12.

**CHAPTER TWELVE.**

*Specimen.* Really?

I ignore Miranda’s choice of words and hold back a groan as she injects a serum meant to prevent my body from reacting to any of the tools she’ll be experimenting with on me. Great. I’m basically a ‘specimen’ now.

Miranda steps away for a moment and returns holding a scalpel. “Now, I’ll be cutting her skin and—” she announces, lifting a tiny box in one hand and a spray bottle in the other, “—using the spray to seal it back.”

I frown, watching as she places the spray on the floor next to the massage-like chair I’m bound to. “No. You won’t,” I immediately object, trying to stand, but the restraints keep me locked in place. “I didn’t sign up for this. You didn’t say you’d be cutting my skin.”

“You signed up for this when you signed those release documents from NASA. Now be a good girl and sit still,” she replies, the last sentence dripping with veiled threat.

Those fucking documents. I should have read through them more carefully before signing, but the sheer joy of being released blinded me. I take a quick glance around the room again, and this time Xyriel seems to be present—mentally and physically. There’s a look in his eyes as he watches me. Oddly enough, it’s calming… so much so that I find myself losing track of time, his gaze pulling me into a strange sense of peace. It’s only when I hear the sound of something tearing that I’m jolted back to reality.

I tear my gaze away from Xyriel, and a sharp sting hits me as I see the cut on my arm. The pain, however, quickly fades as Miranda places a patch on my neck.

“How do you feel now?” she asks.

I try moving my arm within the restraints. Although the cut is still bleeding, there’s no pain at all. I know it’s because of the patch. “There’s no pain,” I confirm.

She smiles, turning to face the audience, all of whom are staring at us in astonishment. “That’s a patch that blocks the pain receptors for up to twelve hours. It can numb any kind of pain, including severe migraines. Next, we’ll be testing Sprayzilla.”

Sprayzilla…Godzilla?

Without hesitation, she picks up a spray on the floor and immediately sprays it on the cut she inflicted on my arm. The spray seals the wound instantly and that gets her a cheer from the crowd. They're impressed, but I'm not. As Miranda talks about a serum that can help fight against poison from unidentified pathogens or viruses, my mind keeps drifting back to the fact that we’ll actually need these things. That this isn’t just hypothetical training. We’re really going to Xyriel, and it’s really going to be life or death.

Next on the first aid practice is how to wrap a makeshift bandage. I'm thankfully free from the chair and allowed to go back into the crowd. I take my seat next to Xyriel. Miranda tells us to pair up in two's to practice on each other, and it's only normal I pair up with Xyriel, and while he’s quiet, he’s quick and efficient when applying a makeshift bandage to my arm. I try not to flinch as he wraps the gauze tightly, focusing on the fact that this is all just practice. But the knot of anxiety in my chest tightens a little more at the thought that I might one day really need it in a situation capable of killing me.

“Anxious?” Xyriel asks as he ties the gauze finish.

“Asides you, who wouldn't be?” I pass him a small smile that does nothing to unfray my nerves.

“Don't be,” Xyriel tells me as he brings his hand to my head. He pats it gently, surprising me with the act. I have never been patted before, not even as a child. The look I saw earlier at the stage is back in his eyes. Being at a closer proximity, I can finally give a clearer explanation of the look. It's like being in awe at the swirl of colors in his amazonite eyes and it makes my heart increase rapidly. “You have me, don't you?”

I nod, tearing my gaze away from his oddly enthralling eyes. “Yes, I do?” My words come out more like a question than a statement. He draws his hand back. “Um …you patted my head, why?”

“You don't like it?”

“No, it's not like that. It's just…I didn't expect that from you of all people,” I reply honestly.

He chuckles, handing me a fresh roll of gauze. He quickly rolls up the sleeve of his black tank top and turns his side to me. “Why? Because I’m allegedly schizo-something?”

“No, no,” I deny quickly, starting to wrap his arm the same way he did mine. “It’s just… argh, I really don’t know how to phrase this. But I suppose I saw you as a closed-off person?”

“Oh, really,” he says flatly, the word devoid of emotion. “I only did that because I saw two people doing it once.”

I blink, caught off-guard. “Wait… what?”

“I saw a man pat a woman’s head like that before putting his mouth on hers. She smiled. I thought it was… interesting,” he continues, his tone detached, as if he’s explaining the mechanics of a machine rather than a gesture of affection. “So, I tried it.”

I stare at him, the realization slowly dawning. He’s just… mimicking. Copying something he observed without truly understanding what it even means. I should feel unsettled by it—concerned, even—but instead, I’m intrigued. Also, ‘putting his mouth on hers’ — does he mean a kiss? Xyriel doesn't know what it means to kiss? “When a mouth is being placed on another, it's called a kiss,” I explain to him like he's a kid.

Xyriel frowns as if I'm explaining a mathematical expression. “A kiss,” he mumbles then stares at me. “Should I do that to you too?”

I choke on a breath, bursting into a fit of cough as I look away from him immediately. I can’t tell if he’s joking or being serious. How can he not know what a kiss is? Even four-year-olds understand that much. Is it a side effect of his schizophrenia? “No, no, you don’t need to do that to me. A kiss is only shared between people who like each other,” I say quickly, feeling my face heat up.

My gaze drifts back to him and I wonder if he even knows the meaning of *sex.* Xyriel and I are in some sort of a staring contest as I pause the gauze I'm busy wrapping on him. There’s something about the way he watches me now, as if waiting for a reaction, and that makes my pulse quicken.

“So…the pat didn’t mean anything?” I murmur, trying to change the subject.

“No.” He tilts his head, studying me with those intense eyes. It's then I realize that he hasn't even blinked. “But it made you react differently. Your heart rate increased. You looked... calmer.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto mine. “Why is that?”

“I—I don’t know.” My voice wavers, and I quickly look away, focusing back on the gauze. “Maybe because it felt… nice?” The admission slips out before I can stop it.

“Nice.” He repeats the word like it’s foreign, something to be dissected and analyzed. He lifts his hand again, hesitating. “So, I should do it again?”

My breath catches as his fingers brush against the crown of my head, this time more intentional, almost… gentle. The contact sends a shiver down my spine, warmth blooming in my belly. I should tell him to stop—should pull away—but I don’t. Instead, I find myself leaning into the touch, savoring the unexplainable comfort it brings to me.

“I—” I start, but the words die in my throat. I look up, meeting his gaze. His eyes, a deep, swirling mix of vibrant colors, are fixed on mine, unreadable yet strangely captivating. There’s no emotion there, no hint of tenderness or affection. Just a blank curiosity, as if he’s about to study a specimen under a microscope.

And yet… I can’t seem to tear myself away.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, more to myself than to him.

“Studying.” His voice is calm. “I want to understand. Humans are fascinating.”

“Understand what?”

“You.” He withdraws his hand, leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. “I want to know why you walked up to me on the first day here. I want to understand why you reacted to my touch, to words… to things that hold no meaning for me, like patting one's head.”

I swallow hard, struggling to steady my racing heartbeat while also trying to remind myself that he's unstable. “You’re funny, Xyriel,” I force a laugh, hoping it will break the tension between us.

“Am I?” He asks curiously just as I finish wrapping the gauze on his arm.

Compared to the one he did on my arm, mine looks like it was done by an elementary student. I almost want to redo it again, but I stop myself.

“A kiss… should I do it to you?” he asks, making me burst into another fit of coughing that attracts the attention of nearly everyone in the station.

“What—?”

“Should I?” he presses on.

I shake my head frantically. “Like I said, Xyriel, a kiss is only shared between two people who like each other. You don’t even like me.”

“But I’m fascinated by you.”

“I’m fascinated by an ant; that doesn’t mean I want to kiss it.”

“But you’re not an ant.”

“It's just an example. Fascination doesn’t equal likeness. We’re just *friends,* Xyriel.”

He pauses, then asks, “We’re friends?” He sounds so genuinely confused that I can’t even take offense at the question. “What does a friend mean in action? Is it like a family? Brother-sister relationship?”

“No. A friend is someone you have a bond of mutual affection with,” I explain as calmly as I can, quietly wondering if his schizophrenia is eating at his brain. “It’s typically someone outside of sexual or family relations.”

He stays quiet for a moment, as if mulling over my words. Not long after, Miranda comes over to inspect the gauze we’ve wrapped. She commends Xyriel for his work on my arm, while she only gives mine a quick ‘manageable’ before leaving. Once she’s gone, Xyriel turns back to me and asks, “Have you kissed someone before?”