(a/n: prompts for tomadashi week. these come with photosets on my tumblr. they will be posted on one day after.)
| 001. Goodbye.
Your spaceship, Gogo's saying, looks like crap.
She's mocking his spaceship because there's nothing else to mock. Not his looks, not his brains, not the fact that he has to leave forever after turning her life upside down for six months. Crap spaceship, you dork, she says. Crap spaceship.
He smiles sadly like he knows what she's actually thinking, because he sort of does. There's all kinds of perks to being an extraterrestrial, and telepathy is only one.
I'm sorry, Tadashi is saying.
Liar, Gogo responds.
He enters his crap spaceship, which really isn't crap because it's white and shiny and full of bright technology that the world has yet to see. He looks at Gogo and Gogo looks back. Both of them are crying but pretending not to.
Thank you, Tadashi is saying, for your kindness.
If you're grateful, Gogo is saying, you should stay.
I can't. I need to go back today, or everything disables.
Crap spaceship.
Not just my spaceship. My body.
What?
Too much distance from the Homeworld does whacky things, Tadashi is saying.
Crap body, Gogo responds.
It is.
Then they stare at each other for another long moment and Tadashi blushes heavily, so heavily that his entire face almost washes scarlet. Gogo's eyes widen.
Hey! Were you—?!
I didn't mean to! Honest!
You read my mind?!
I'm sorry, I just, something about your face changed, and I, I had no way of knowing you thought that about my body—
WE ARE DONE WITH THIS CONVERSATION, Gogo is yelling, and she hides her face in her palms weighed with embarrassment.
Silence. Then: Are we? from Tadashi.
And then Tadashi is racing down the boarding ramp, running to her side, prying her hands away from her face, lifting her chin, and pressing his lips against hers. He lingers there, teeth scraping gently across her lip, roving slowly, as if he's trying to memorize her face like a map, storing it for eternity in his mind. She grabs the front of his jacket in a hidden plea.
But then he steps away, eyes too clouded to discern.
I'm sorry, he says heavily, breathlessly. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I have to go.
And Gogo releases his jacket and steps back, fingernails digging painfully into her palm.
Goodbye, Gogo, Tadashi is saying. He boards the spaceship and the hatch begins to close. He stares at her, longingly, and for a moment he is not an alien, he is not an intruder into her life; he is just a man, a man who Gogo wants to stay. But the hatch shuts and that man is no more.
Goodbye, Gogo says.
FIN
s.d.g