Chapter Text
Kris really, really never thought he’d be in this situation.
As it is, though, he floats idly through space, banished there by purple aliens dressed in tin foil, all because he noticed that he could easily steal a bike.
Thought crimes, what a stupid notion! Certainly not a reason to establish—what was it—a galactic court? There’s always more pressing business going on in the movies! There’s no way that snitching on private thoughts is on par with taking down intergalactic dictators. Honestly!
He doesn’t even know how to avoid thinking of crime, frankly! Arson. Treason. Burglary. That’s three right off the bat! It’s impossible! That’s how thoughts work! He didn’t even steal that stupid bike…he’s got his own bike…
Really, Kris doesn’t even know how he’s even still alive, sitting cross-legged in space without any suit or oxygen. Some weird alien technology, maybe? They were definitely more advanced in some areas than others, he thinks, remembering the embarrassing excuse for a memory display. If this is to make him think about his punishment, then it’s working, because there’s nothing much to do but think. He’d already tried playing I Spy with himself. It wasn’t very exciting, given that all he can see are distant pinpoints of light and himself. When that got boring (very quickly), he moved to testing how large of a spit bubble he could blow.
Now, he’s mostly thinking about home.
He assumes he’ll die out here eventually. Even if he doesn’t, he doesn’t think he’s getting sent home anytime soon. That stupid alien prick seemed pretty serious about the whole thing.
Does that mean people have already started assuming he’s dead? That’s a dark thought. It would save a lot of strife if the aliens could send down a little hello, we banished your loved one to the furthest reaches of the universe. He’s fine. Cheers!
Kris spins himself around and sticks his legs out, kicking at the distant stars.
Way to make him feel bad about not calling his mum this morning, aliens. He talked to her…last week. That’s fine, right? He sighs and imagines nudging a star with his toe. Sorry, mum. At least Jack will be there to call and deliver the news when he gets it all figured out. She’ll appreciate that.
God…Jack…
Kris closes his eyes and drifts. Jack will definitely be the first to notice, if only because they spend such a weird amount of time together. Moving into a small house had only made sense after knowing each other so long and so well. If he somehow misses Kris’ presence during meals, clattering around in the kitchen, and shouting at his video games, then…well first of all, Kris will be extremely offended. But if he misses all that, then he’ll definitely notice the lack of Kris when he tries to deliver the latest Zedaph script.
He'll give it to Jack that the Minecraft business was a good idea—the money in their bank accounts speaks for itself. Kris gets to have a lot of fun with it, but Jack’s particular writing does often make him feel rather silly. Sillier than he makes himself feel on a normal day, anyway. Sometimes he wonders how much of the scripts are written with the intent to make Kris look like a fool, but knowing his friend, it’s already a significant amount. Worse is when Kris stumbles his own way into something even stupider and Jack eagerly writes it in, elated at the tomfoolery and/or misfortune.
Kris is well aware that he’s being huffy about it. Jack handed him a golden opportunity on a silver platter, which is an absurd amount of metal. He loves his job, but he can’t let Jack know that; he’s already far too smug as it is. It’s mostly that having to work with the guy who actually did get the part of Tango Tek is annoying, but he gets to imagine that his acting is actually important. Kris did make one suggestion for his character: that Zedaph be a little more cool, a little more suave, but Jack had pat his shoulder and told him to play to his strengths instead.
What an ass.
He does have a public facing career, though…his audience will probably be curious about the sudden disappearance. Maybe Jack will write up a killer finale about it. He better, honestly. Tango will probably feature in it, being Zed’s best friend and all. Maybe even Impulse and Skizz, too. Skizz always enjoyed the scripts Jack sent over.
…Hopefully Dot would see it. And understand that his disappearance wasn’t just with her.
Kris kicks at the stars with renewed vigor and groans. He never even got to see where that would go. They’d only gotten a short amount of time together, but she was silly and creative and clever and extremely cheeky. All things he loves. Now that dimpled smile that was already on the other side of a screen is farther than ever, and all Kris can do is mourn the lost opportunity. In another life, maybe. It’s a nice thought to consider amidst the sprawling darkness. If he’s gonna be stuck in space for eternity, he can at least think about the girl he likes. That’s not a thought crime.
If Jack somehow ends up with her though, he’s going to be so pissed. Kris will haunt him so hard about it if he ever gets to actually die.
That would probably be a thought crime by the standards of the Galactic Court, but Jack would totally deserve it!
He’ll probably still haunt Jack regardless, though. If Kris had to pick one person to bother for eternity, it would absolutely be him. He’s already spent so much of his life doing just that; might as well continue on into the afterlife.
What is it now…five years living together?
It hurts to think of how quickly that was cut short, so he chooses not to!
Instead, Kris thinks about how much of a miracle it was that the two of them managed to muster up enough responsibility to secure a place.
He closes his eyes and drifts, folding his hands over his stomach and thinking fondly on that first day together. Jack had lost his keys on six separate instances. By the fourth, he’d given them over to Kris to keep track of instead, then promptly forgot he had done that and declared them lost again. Present-Kris can’t help but smile at the memory. They’d both eaten Tesco’s sandwiches and crisps on the floor for dinner, having failed to buy a couch or set up chairs yet. When night fell, both rolled out sleeping bags side by side, beds still only partially assembled; Jack was used to constantly shifting environments, but Kris had only ever slept in the same place, barring a scattered handful of sleepovers and vacations. Companionship had been allowed for that first night, with morning finding them in a position both swore never to speak of again except in jokes. Kris had only slightly burned their pancake breakfast, and he added cinnamon, which he felt extremely proud of.
He’ll have to rely on that memory of food for the rest of eternity, now. No more pancakes with steaming mugs of tea to start the day off, let alone with the bickering over the breakfast table. No more apple cider, clinking mugs with Jack as they count down the new year, cheeks rosy with intoxication. No more chocolate cake, rich and soft, ringing in one birthday after the next with warmth and sugar. No more scotched eggs, even if his own attempt had been pathetic. How’s he supposed to try again now! At least Dot had seemed impressed with the pictures he’d sent of the earnest attempt. Jack teased him for smiling at his phone during meals, but it was good.
It was good.
Kris remembers knocking out his two front teeth as a child and crying so hard he got sick. His sister had done her best to comfort him, but it hurt and made his smile all weird! Man, he misses his sisters. He hadn’t even realized how long it’s been since he’d seen them…he needs to think of something else.
Oh! His stupid competitions with Jack! Those were always so much fun, even if clipping pegs to their faces had hurt more than they expected. His favorite might still be the day spent playing with slow motion, but that could be in part to his triumphant victory and Jack’s laughable loss. Who knew water-balloon-throwage was a skill someone could lack? The car ride home from the park found them both dripping onto the leather seats and still slippery with oil from their makeshift slip-n-slide, but even that could not tarnish the delicious taste of victory.
And that time with the drawings! Kris actually thought he was going to die, he laughed so hard! It hurt a lot to gasp for air like that, but wriggling around on the floor with Jack losing their minds together is such a silly memory that it makes him smile despite it all.
Or that time with the Christmas tree! Rewatching the footage of Jack groping around blindly for a piece of plastic tree easily became a mandatory holiday tradition in their small household, always followed up by the footage of his own blind panic.
Huh…a lot of his good memories have Jack in them. It makes sense, of course…being best friends and all…
Man…
…
Kris wonders if Jack has noticed his absence yet. If his family has noticed his absence yet. If Dot has.
…
He tries counting the stars he can see but loses track around a hundred fifty.
…
How would an investigation into his disappearance even work? It’s not like he left a note, and more importantly he doesn’t think that alien zappage would leave much evidence.
…
Kris attempts a flip in the zero-gravity but can’t get the momentum right.
…
He cries but the tears stay cold and tacky on his face no matter how much he scrubs at it.
…
Does time even exist in space? How would he know how long it’s been without the sun? It feels like it’s been a while.
…
Meeting aliens was cool, at least. Even though he can’t tell anyone. Even though no one would believe him regardless. He knows, and that’s…something. He had expected them to be green, though. And not dress so much like baked potatoes. He grins at his own joke and wishes he had someone to share it with.
…
He’s probably never getting home. He thinks he might already be dead and just didn’t notice.
If he…is, then Kris thinks that his life was pretty good. Thought crimes and all.
…
There’s a bright light, and Kris feels himself pulled toward it.
“KRIS!”
Kris jolts at the onslaught of colour and sound, feeling like all of his muscles were just stretched thin and snapped back together like a rubber band. He doubles over and hacks onto the carpet. Firm pressure soon settles to clap against his upper back, which startles Kris so badly that he forgets that was to help him cough.
He wipes spit off his chin and sits up to get a proper look. “Jack?”
“Kris! What the hell happened?” Jack shifts to instead hold onto Kris by the shoulders with both hands. His dark, dark eyes are framed by dark, dark bags. Usually styled back, wisps of blondish hair fall over his forehead.
His exhaustion burns with an intensity that Kris can only gape at. He reaches out in turn to press his palms against Jack’s face, squishing thin cheeks. His hands are quickly swatted away, but the touch was enough to feel and affirm that Jack Allum is for real sitting in front of him on the living room floor of their home. “Jack—what—I was—how?“
Jack brings his left hand up proper to tap the tip of the wand he’s holding against Kris’ forehead. “Wizard, mate. Remember?”
That’s…that’s right! How could he have forgotten? He was so bitter about it back then!
A cursory glance around finds Jack’s laptop open to WizardHow, screen glowing with a drawing of a woman in cartoonish wizard clothes and a summoning circle. When he looks around himself, Kris finds a similar layout, featuring a framed picture of himself, packets of his favourite tea, a crocheted Willy the Worm, and what he thinks is his pillowcase. The items are not only specific, but arranged in a particular way, making Kris feel as if a lot of effort went into retrieving him.
“Jack!” Kris gushes, voice pulpy. “You do care!”
“Yeah, well,” Jack mutters, looking away to toss his wand onto the couch, “I don’t fancy paying rent by myself.”
Kris still launches his whole weight onto Jack, squeezing him into a hug that’s warmer than anything he’s felt in quite some time. His friend is squished into what’s undoubtedly an uncomfortable position, but Kris is comfortable and he’s pretty sure Jack melts into it anyway.
“You are really cold, mate,” he remarks, resting his chin on Kris’ shoulder. “Where even were you?”
Kris will tell him about everything, of course. It’s Jack, after all. But right now, he’s got the perfect opportunity. He wriggles cold hands right up under Jack’s shirt and delights in the immediate squeal and thrashing. Jack swats and kicks right back at him, entirely deserved. Kris cackles as he tears away, Jack on his heels, primed with a static shock.
Yeah. Life is really good.