His gaze dances over my face, his eyes wild as he takes me in. “I calculate you have five hours of air if the breach remains the same size. Plenty of time for me to figure this out.”
I nod, instinctively holding my breath a moment as if to prolong those five short hours.
I watch as he works, his brows furrowing with concentration. He looks older now, much older than before, or perhaps I just hadn’t noticed it when we saw each other every day.
He always had a serious look about him. Some might call him stern. Hell, he didn’t make many friends during his PhD days. I bonded with my fellow students over our tyrant professor. Not Matthias. He was probably Director Buzzkill, enforcing the procedures and protocols.
But they just didn’t know him. Didn’t try to know who he was beneath the mask he wears. I don’t think he ever let anyone see who he really was.No one except for me.
I watch as he works, laser-focused on the task at hand.He almost frowns, the furrow between his brows twitching.
“Why are you here?” The words are out before I even realise I’ve said them.
“You need help. I’m helping.”
I can barely glimpse the squiggle of red lines on the console from where I am pushed up against the glass.
“No. I meanhere. Space. The station. Why aren’t you back on Earth? Where’s Tiggie?”
He scoffs. “You worry for the cat?”
“You didn’t put him in one of those kennel places, did you? He doesn’t like strangers.”
“The cat is fine.Mutti hat ihn.”
“She’ll make him fat again.”
He snorts out a harsh laugh, as if his throat is unpracticed, and it squeezes at my heart. I know this man. I know his body, his face, his everything.I used to be able to read him like a book. We would laugh for hours, until our throats were hoarse, and now his body barely remembers how.
I try to size him up through the small window. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not the one trapped.”
“Does Dianna know you’re here?” He ignores me. “I always thought you two would be good together.” He ignores that as well. “I’m sure she was quick to step into my shoes.”
Now he looks up, and it feels too intimate, too exposing. “She didn’t. I didn’t want her.”
I pause, considering how he might have been completely alone these past few years, and not as quick to move on as I had always thought. Discarding our memories and focusing on what truly matters to him - his work.
“I–”
“I never wanted her”.
“I…”
He sighs, “She was not you.”
I owe him an explanation. An apology…
“Luca–” I begin.
“I don’t want to hear his name from your mouth.”
“Müll–” A small wrinkle forms between his brows. “Matthias. He’s an engineer, like me, he can help.”
One of his thick brown brows raises. “He collects rocks. I fail to see how that could help.”
I don’t even attempt to hide my eye roll at this infuriatingly stubborn man.
