stykera | Room 203, Friday most of the day

Stark's room was packed up. Stark did not want his room to be packed up. Being packed up meant he was now left with an even emptier than normal room. He did not want that, either. That might have been why he kept unpacking and repacking one bag at a time. Or that might have been an excuse to stay in his room longer, in the hope that he would see people. Or it might have just been Stark being his not entirely sane self. It was hard to tell.

He was fairly certain that anyone who might care he was leaving knew that this was when he was doing so. He hoped so, at least. He wanted to be able to say goodbye, and any company would have the added benefit of perhaps distracting him for a few moments. He was tired of goodbyes. But not getting to say a goodbye at all was always worse. He knew that all too well. He would take the goodbyes over the alternative, but he'd rather not have to do either.

[Meant to get this up earlier, but work and life got in the way. Repeatedly. SP is everyone's friend. Really.]

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Inside the box were two dozen cupcakes, carefully iced and painstakingly decorated with sprinkles in the shape of . . . an emo tear.

"I'm not sure why I decided to go with that design," he admitted.

Stark stared for a long moment at the cupcakes, then looked back up at Anders. "Because it fits," he said with a shrug. "Doesn't it?"

Anders had to laugh a little bit at that. "Yeah, I guess it does. It's sort of the general mood around here for me this week." He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Who's gonna make you cupcakes when you go, huh? Can they overnight ship to where you are, so I can at least keep you stocked up?"

It had been Stark's general mood for the majority of the summer, but Anders knew that already.

"I might have to learn to make them myself. If I have the opportunity. And if I can find something close enough to chocolate. It might be a little far, for overnight shipping. And if I find Moya...Rygel would just eat them all."

"The hell he's allowed to do that!" Anders blurted out. "I should give you a couple of my cookbooks. I've got 'em pretty well memorized by now, and you should learn."

"You've never seen Rygel around food. Not a matter of allowed. It would just happen," Stark said with a small smile. "Do you think I'd be able to find what I needed, out there? We don't have chocolate."

"No chocolate?" Anders looked horrified. "Okay, no. You're not allowed to leave. That's inhuman."

"We're not human," Stark reminded Anders. "But you're right."

~~"Neither am I, but I don't know that yet."~~ Anders crossed his arms over his chest and gave Stark a solemn look. "Then your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to discover chocolate or a reasonably chocolatey substitute in your world when you go home. That way I can visit and make you chocolate cupcakes, otherwise you're just gonna have to settle for yellow cake."

Stark nodded very seriously in return. "You don't want to visit. Not a good place to visit. Or live, a lot of the time. But I will do my best to find something chocolate-like."

"You're going back there," Anders insisted. "If it's good enough for you to go back to, then it's good enough for me to come visit."

Stark couldn't really find a flaw in that logic. Or maybe he could. "It doesn't have to be good to go back to. I just am going back. Maybe it will be good. But it wasn't, when I left. For a while before that it was. But mostly...not. At all. Much better to see you somewhere else. Where there won't be anyone chasing me. Or the ship. Or trying to lock me away. Again. I want to come back here. I hope I can."

"I hope you make it back before I have to leave," Anders said, reaching out with one arm to give Stark a manly platonic sort of hug, if he wanted it. "If not, well . . . maybe try looking for me on the other side of the States, huh? And you better be okay, and you better make it back. Or I'm gonna be upset."

Stark was always up for hugs these days. Even manly platonic ones.

"I'll try to be back," Stark said. "And...I'll be okay. I usually am. Mostly." He paused. "Did I ever tell you I was, um, dispersed once? For blowing up a ship even though I didn't? I came back from that. I can survive another while in the Uncharteds, I think."

Anders just facepalmed. "Stark? Not helping. Not helping."

"It was only the one time," Stark protested. "And I got better! And then we robbed a bank and blew it up and that didn't go very well but we all made it out and were all right for a while. So I'll be all right. I promise. At least, I'll try."

"You better be," Anders said weakly. "And you better write, or something, and let me know how you're doing. You're not allowed to just disappear, got it?"

"I will if I can," Stark promised. "And...you too. You'll be all right here?"

"I'll live," Anders replied. At the moment, it was about all he could say honestly. "No doing anything crazy, I promise."

"I know it hurts," Stark said softly. "But it's not forever. And you can be crazy. Just not too crazy. Someone has to be crazy here."

Anders managed to dredge up a half smile. "Promise me you'll try to find chocolate in the Unknown Regions, and I promise I'll carry on your legacy of crazy here."

"I will try, I promise." He was sure his Crichton (both of them) had tried too. But there was always hope. "If I don't...I'll be forced to come back."

"Well, as long as you come back eventually." Anders ran a hand through his hair and blinked in that desperate, half-futile way that meant he was fighting back tears. "You have to."

"I want to," Stark said. "You know that. This was home. More than almost anywhere else ever was."

"I know exactly what you mean," Anders said. "I feel the same way . . . only a big part of my home is going away now, too."

Re: Afternoon

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