The Space Between

By: InitialA

Disclaimer: I don't own Welcome to Night Vale or any properties mentioned here.

"Sir, wait, please—"

The phone slipped in Carlos' hand as he heard the director say, "Look, Carlos, I'm sorry. But my hands are tied. They need you here on Monday."

The call ended. Carlos slumped against the wall. What am I going to tell Cecil?

"What?" Cecil asked. His face was ashen. No.

"The administration pulled the plug. We're done here. I'm leaving Friday," Carlos said monotonously.

"You… No. You can't leave. You can't!" Cecil's voice was reaching a pitch he hated.

"Why? New City Council ordinance?" Carlos asked as Cecil began to pace. He missed the note of hope in the question, staring at the floor as he circled the area, his long fingers twisting around each other as he thought.

"What? No, of course not. That would be ridiculous," Cecil scoffed, his mind working at light speed. "We'd never get any new tourists, and any Desert Bluffs football supporters would be trapped here. City Council knows better than that. No, I mean… You shouldn't leave Night Vale."

Leave me, he wanted to add. But he knew he and Carlos weren't on the same level in their relationship. Truthfully, he'd been in this relationship for a year longer than Carlos had, so it was understandable. That Carlos was telling him in person, and not using the convenient screen of a phone, spoke volumes for how much he cared about him and respected him. "We need you." I need you. "Who else is going to warn us about the sugar turning into black holes, or seek out the invisible clock tower? Isn't there anything we can do?"

We. They'd been 'we' for so little time, and now… Carlos was pinching the bridge of his nose, his glasses in his other hand. "They already assigned me to another position in Virginia… They think the data we gathered here might help with some of the major projects going on there. Cecil… they want me to head the research department there."

Carlos pushed his hair off his forehead—his perfect hair, hair he wouldn't get to touch—sounding wistful as he said it. "It's… it's an amazing opportunity…"

"It sounds like it…" Cecil's voice sounded as hollow as he felt.

"Cecil…"

He stopped pacing. "I'll go with you."

Carlos blinked. "What?"

"To Virginia. I'll come. I haven't left Night Vale in… well, I don't really know how long. A fresh perspective."

"Cecil, you'd hate it," Carlos said.

"It'll be fun."

"You can't go into a public library with a crossbow."

Cecil frowned slightly; crossbows were his favorite weapon against the Librarians, but he could make do with a blow dart in a pinch. Carlos continued, "Night Vale… there's a reason I came to study it. It's so… so different than the rest of the country. You'd go crazy in a week. There's no… small armies living under bowling alleys, no angels, normal dog parks with dogs… no lights above—" He cut off suddenly, and cleared his throat, abruptly turning. His voice cracked when he said, "Besides… you can't let Jackson the Miner overtake you in the record number of re-educations, right?"

"What if I need you more than I need all of that?" Cecil asked.

"What would you do for a job?"

"There are other radio stations."

"Under normal management, with no regular intern deaths."

"I could use a break from that! Even unexpected death becomes mundane!"

"Cecil…"

"Don't you… don't you want me to come?" He hated sounding like that, but his heart hurt too much.

Carlos rushed him, pressing their foreheads together as his hand slid up his neck to cup his ear. "I do," he murmured. "I do, but I know you, Cecil. And I know Night Vale. And I know Virginia. And you belong here."

I belong with you, he wanted to scream. But the words died in his throat when he looked, really looked, at Carlos' face. This hurts him too. He doesn't want to deny him this chance to be together. But this is Carlos. If he thinks… if he knows that Cecil wouldn't be happy… "You're really sure about this?"

Carlos only nodded.

"Okay…" Cecil breathed, and he's breaking into a million pieces inside with that two-syllable word. City Council should outlaw that word. 'Okay' isn't okay anymore, it's the death of Cecil and Carlos. The alpha and omega of their relationship: Carlos was okay. Now they're not okay.

"I want you to call me," Carlos said.

"For personal reasons?" The attempt at a joke fell weakly before them, but Carlos still chuckled. "For anything."

"Can I visit?"

"I'd be hurt if you didn't."

But I can't come permanently… Carlos met his eyes, like he read his mind. "Maybe…" he said softly, "Maybe if you visit and you find it's okay… maybe then you can move in?"

They part on that note of hope.

Friday.

Carlos knocked on Cecil's door, a package in hand. He waited for a while, and then knocked again. He didn't bother with the doorbell—Cecil said he needed to have it rewired, not to mention the last time it had tried to burn his fingerprints off with acid. After twenty minutes of knocking he started to grow worried. "Cecil?" He hollered, banging on the door this time. "Cecil, it's me!"

He stepped back, looking at all of the windows, seeing if there was a light somewhere. Even with all of the blackout curtains drawn back, there was nothing. He walked around towards the garage, peering in to see if Cecil's car was parked there.

It wasn't.

Carlos' heart sank. His flight was leaving soon. He had told Cecil what time he was leaving, hoping that he would see him off.

He slumped as he walked back to the front door, leaving the package there on the step. He glanced down at the garden gnome standing guard. "Please… I know he's unhappy with me, but don't let him throw this away or just ignore it."

The gnome nodded once.

Carlos got into the car and left, hoping that the plane would still be able to take off, even if one of its passengers felt like his very bones had turned to lead.