Chapter Text
“Is he breathing?” March asked frantically, hands coming up to cover her mouth as he leaned in to check. They’d been sent to check what the hell the explosion in this part of the space station was, to make sure every member of the Antimatter Legion had been dispatched appropriately. Neither of them had been prepared to come across an unconscious stranger.
Dan Heng pressed his index and middle finger to the man’s pulse point on his throat, Head leaning in to feel for any breath escaping from him, but managed to find neither. Shit. He pressed his fingers in just a little harder in the hopes of finding even the faintest trace of a pulse. Nothing. Not even a whisper of it. No time to wait for medical, then. March seemed to clue in immediately. “He’s not breathing. I don’t know how to–”
“Call Himeko,” he cut her off, palms coming down to find the centre-point of the man’s chest, just like he’d learned. Thirty compressions, one second each, and then he had to make sure to get air in his lungs, otherwise the compressions would only do so much good. Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty. He shot March a quick look. “Now, March.”
“R-right!” The pink-haired girl tugged her phone from her pocket, hands shaking as she tapped at the screen, bringing the device up to her ear. Barely a second went by when– “Himeko, we need help! In the storage zone. Uh-huh, that’s it. We found someone, he’s not–” March paused long enough to get a confirming shake of the head from Dan Heng. “He’s not breathing. Dan Heng’s already doing CPR, but we’re not sure if–”
He stopped paying attention to the exchange then, focusing on making sure the man’s head was tipped back at the right angle, index and middle finger supporting his chin. He didn’t even think twice before leaning in to blow air into his lungs, feeling no resistance against it. That’s good at least. That meant his airways weren’t obstructed, but that didn’t explain the lack of heartbeat. Two breaths, and he was back to compressions, shaking his head at March again when she asked if he was breathing yet. Of course they would be the only ones to find someone in need of serious help in this crisis. Wasn’t that how it always was?
“Welt’s on his way,” March said as she shoved her phone back into her pocket, hands ringing together with worry. Dan Heng only offered a curt nod, busy counting. Another round of breaths, and still nothing. Dammit, come on, wake up. “Oh god, is he gonna die?! This can’t be happening.”
Dan Heng might’ve scoffed at the comment if the situation were any different, but he was a bit preoccupied with leaning back in to get air into the stranger’s lungs. Admittedly, he was a bit perplexed – the man didn’t look any older than he did, and there were no signs of injuries or trauma anywhere he could see. In fact, judging by his clothing, it almost appeared he’d just laid down in the middle of the room and simply stopped breathing. Weird. This time, as he sat up to resume compressions, the man laying there sucked in a sharp breath, followed by a series of uncomfortable sounding coughs.
“–the hell–” he gasped out, the way he said it coming out almost annoyed. As his breathing started to settle, he cracked one of his eyes open ever so slightly, squinting against the light. Dan Heng moved above him, partly out of instinct to make the waking process a little less uncomfortable, partly to ensure he was alright.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral in that way it always was, though anyone who knew him well enough might hear the tinge of concern bleeding into it. It was hard not to worry when someone had almost died in front of you, after all.
“Mmh?” The man let out a low groan, cracking his eyes open a little further. He was still visibly disoriented, eyes struggling to focus as he dragged in slow, shaky breaths, swallowing hard like he didn’t quite trust himself to speak yet.
“You weren’t breathing,” March explained, pulling her phone out. Her thumbs flew across the screen faster than Dan Heng had ever seen them move, no doubt typing a message out to Welt or Himeko, likely both, to update them on the situation with their not-so-unconscious stranger.
“I wasn’t?” asked the man, his voice coming out somewhat rough. He blinked hard a few times, his eyes finally focusing on the jade pair looking down at him. Suddenly, he let out a heavy breath, followed by an almost nervous sounding laugh. “Whoa, you’re uh–” He stopped to clear his throat, raising a hand to tug at the overly loose collar of his shirt. “Is it hot in here, or is that just you?”
“Holy shit–” March breathed behind him, followed by a quiet, muffled laugh, surely the result of her covering her mouth with a gloved hand. Typical.
Dan Heng, on the other hand, just stared back at him blankly for a moment, his expression as unreadable as ever, which only seemed to make March 7th that much more hysterical behind him. Finally, he asked in his usual monotone, “What’s your name?”
“Caelus,” the man answered easily, eyes not leaving Dan Heng as he got to his feet. When a hand was extended to him to help him up, he took it without hesitation, bouncing up onto his feet like he hadn't been practically dead a minute ago. Only once on his feet did he notice the pink-haired girl, brows arching up immediately as he let out a low whistle. “Oh, wow, okay, hi. Please tell me I didn’t just hit on the guy giving me CPR in front of his cute girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?!” March sputtered, leaning away from Dan Heng as if she’d been burned. Dan Heng mirrored the action, his expression twisting into a grimace at the thought. Not that March wasn’t pretty or anything, he could acknowledge that much, but she’d always been more like a sister to him. “Maybe in his dreams!”
“Not a chance,” he corrected dryly, earning a sharp glare from her. Not that there was any real heat behind it – they both knew as well as anyone else on the Express that there simply wasn’t any chemistry between them. That, or maybe Dan Heng was just too emotionally cut off for anyone to feel they could get close. He was fine with either of those options, really. “We need to get out of here – the Space Station is still under attack.”
“Space Station?” Caelus asked, staring blankly between the two of them before looking around the storage room like he was only now realizing where they were. Only there was no recognition in his expression, only more confusion. “We’re in a Space Station?”
“Yeah?” March replied almost sarcastically, giving him a sideways look, but Dan Heng was busy watching the look in the man’s eyes change. Looking between the two of them as if searching for something, but not finding it, then looking down, brows furrowed in the same way March’s did from time to time. “How’d you even get here?”
“I—” Caelus stopped short almost as soon as he started talking, and Dan Heng couldn’t quite tell if it was confusion or hesitation this time around. At least, not until one hand came up to scratch at the back of his own head, like he hadn’t really thought about that either. “Uh… I don’t actually know, i just— I just remember someone telling me my name and…” He trailed off, looking somewhere between confused and indifferent. Then, like it didn’t matter all that much, he shrugged. “That’s actually about it.”
“Huh.” March somehow didn’t sound all that surprised. He chanced a look at her and found a curious expression painted across her features. Maybe it hadn’t occurred to her before that there might be other people out there who couldn’t remember things, either.
“We can figure this out after,” he interrupted the moment, acutely aware of the sounds of explosions a few compartments over. The Antimatter Legion was still trying to commandeer the Space Station, and they didn’t have time to play memokeeper right now. “We need to get back to the Express.”
“The Express is the train we travel on!” He heard March start explaining before tuning out the idle chatter. Caelus was probably just another researcher on the station who’d had an experiment go wrong — left him with amnesia or bad memory. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing I’ve heard around here. They’d help him figure out where to go to get that fixed after. For now, they had to get back to the others.
As it turned out, Caelus was not a researcher on the Space Station — in fact, he wasn’t supposed to be there at all, as far as Herta could tell. For the first 24 hours, none of them could figure out who he was, the man himself included. What they did figure out was why he didn’t have a heartbeat, even after he started breathing again. They just couldn’t make sense of the fact he had a Stellaron in place of a normal human heart. Or why he would take the risk of it exploding all to jump in front of an attack from the Antimatter Legion aimed directly at March 7th. It was reckless, at best.
But after Welt had stabilized his Stellaron, the grey haired man was left alone with his saviours. March 7th had dozed off in her hanging egg chair some time ago, arms wrapped tightly around a Pom-Pom plushie that she kept in her room. Dan Heng sat on one of the wooden chairs dragged in from the archives, which he personally found far better for his posture than any of March’s floppy seating. If it had been up to him, he’d have retreated to inputting new information into the Data Bank long ago, and he would have, if it wasn’t for Caelus curiously looking through the photos on March’s board in her room – with permission of course.
“Can I ask you something?” Dan Heng asked, looking up from the book he’d been focused on for some time now. The grey-haired stranger had turned to meet his gaze, head cocked to the side like Peppy often did when Asta made a request of him. “Why did you jump in front of March back there?”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Caelus asked, one hand coming up to scratch the back of his head. His eyes wandered up and around the room as if he was trying to pinpoint what exactly Dan Heng was talking about. “Oh, like when that thing attacked her? Why wouldn’t I?”
“You don’t know her,” Dan Heng pointed out rather matter-of-factly, which only made Caelus’ brows furrow closer together, smile shifting into a small frown as if he’d just made an offensive remark. “What?”
“You guys didn’t know me, either,” Caelus pointed out as if the two situations were somehow even remotely comparable, hands balling into fists and settling on his hips in a weirdly triumphant manner.
“That didn’t put our lives in danger,” Dan Heng calmly pointed out, turning his attention back to the book in his lap as if the conversation were already over. The room was quiet for a bit as if Caelus didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I mean, I wasn’t gonna just stand there and let her die.” The words came quiet, sounding maybe just a little more honest than they were meant to be. When he looked up again, he was met with the back of the man’s head, grey hair sticking up in all different directions. His attention was back on the photo board, which currently featured numerous photos of the crew all together. He gave a small, nonchalant shrug. “I dunno. Just felt like the right thing to do at the time.”
“Hm.” A noncommittal hum was all Dan Heng could offer in response. After the day of flirtatious comments directed toward both him and March and a slew of bad jokes that were exactly the brand of humour that made him cringe, the answer seemed shockingly sincere. Maybe he’s not actually as shallow as he seems. “And now?”
“No regrets.” His hands found their way into the pockets of his jacket, and he threw a look back over his shoulder at the Express’ guard. “Thanks again for the whole savingme thing, by the way.” He paused, then added with a tilt of his head and a wry smile. “You’re pretty good with your mouth, you know.”
There it is. The moment of sincerity buried under comedic deflection as quickly as it had surfaced. Dan Heng’s gaze flicked briefly to the slight curve of his mouth before dropping back to the page, just turning it as if he hadn’t even heard him. He let the silence linger between them for a while before casually asking, “So, what are you going to do now?”
“Dunno yet,” Caelus said with another shrug, turning to fully face him now. His eyes wandered up around March’s room, as if he might find the answers to his future among all her bits and bobbles. “Maybe they’ll let me stay on the Space Station until I figure out who I am.”
“What if you don’t remember?” It wasn’t meant to be antagonistic by any means — he just got the impression that maybe Caelus didn’t think about these things very deeply.
“Then I don’t.” He didn’t seem the least bit concerned about that, but something shifted in his expression nevertheless. Almost like he really hadn’t considered that possibility before. “Kicking around here helping with research also sounds kind of…” he trailed off, one hand escaping his pocket to move in a circular motion in front of himself. “Boring, I guess? No offense.”
“None taken.” Dan Heng was used to it – March wasn’t much of a research person either, and her taste in literature wasn’t exactly what he would call academic in nature. It was at this point that he realized the words on the page were starting to blur together, bit by bit, like his eyes couldn’t quite remember how to focus on them anymore. “You don’t strike me as the type to enjoy data collection.”
“Yeah,” Caelus confirmed, though he was giving him a strange look now, blinking rapidly before shaking his head. “Well, I’ll figure it out at some point.”
“Mm.” He carefully tucked the bookmark back into its place between the pages before folding it shut. Exhaustion was starting to pull at him, and his capacity to maintain casual conversation was depleting quickly. Pushing himself to his feet, he tipped his chin in March’s direction. “It’s late. We should let her sleep.”
“Oh. Yeah, right.” Caelus shot one last look at March, then at the photos on the wall. “She seems like the type to need her beauty sleep.”
“She is,” Dan Heng confirmed, moving towards the door. Caelus followed after a moment, his eyes lingering for a few moments longer on the photo board as the main photo in focus shifted to one of the crew.
March had snapped it shortly after they landed on the Space Station after wrangling Himeko, Welt, Pom-Pom, and himself into one room for an updated group photo. Despite all the grumbling and arguing, the photo had turned out nice. Himeko and Welt stood behind the younger duo, evidently unaware of their linked fingers visible in the gap between March and Dan Heng’s bodies. March was beaming, arms thrown around his own neck, Pom-Pom peaking the top of their little head up through the bottom of the frame. He, on the other hand, looked the same as always, wearing his neutral expression and flashing the peace sign March had insisted on. It was a nice photo.
“Must be nice,” Caelus muttered under his breath, so quietly he wasn’t really sure he was supposed to hear it. Out of courtesy for their new guest, he pretended not to, quietly guiding him out into the hallway. On their way out, he hit the lock button on the inside wall, ensuring March wouldn’t be disturbed until at least breakfast time. She needed the rest after today.
The hall of the passenger car was quiet at this time of night, filled only with the quiet humming of the train’s engine and systems that kept it running. The light under Himeko’s door at the other end of the hall had gone out, and he was sure Welt’s would be out too, if he could see it from here. It had been an eventful day for all of them, but it wasn’t over for him just yet. He had information to enter and properly sort into the data bank before he could even think about sleeping, and he didn’t say a word as he slid the door open, about to vanish inside.
“Hey, uh–” the newcomer started, forcing Dan Heng to catch his closing door with one hand in order to hold eye contact. The grey-haired menace pointed down the hall away from the other passenger cabins. “Parlour Car’s that way, right?”
“Yes,” Dan Heng confirmed, continuing to stare blankly at him before asking flatly, “Is that where you’re sleeping tonight?”
“Yep, sure is.” Caelus rocked back on his heels, hands finding his pockets again. The ghost of a smile crept onto his lips, and Dan Heng could almost see it coming before the words left his mouth, carrying the same flirtatious undertone he’d been slipping back into all day. “Wouldn’t mind keeping you company for the night instead, though.~”
Dan Heng just stared at him blankly, the same way he had every other time he’d tried to make a pass at him. Except this time, he studied his expression – the easy grin that wasn’t quite reaching his eyes anymore, the casual cocking back of his head that seemed somehow stiffer than before. Like he was trying to seem natural about it, but missing the mark ever so slightly. Interesting. He didn’t respond to the advance – that seemed to be the best way to go about handling it without being outright rude. Instead, he just said, “Get some rest, Caelus.”
“Right, yeah,” Caelus nodded, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh before giving a little two-fingered salute and turning in the opposite direction. One hand came up in an almost backwards wave as he walked away, calling back a quiet, “Sleep well.”
Dan Heng stayed at his door for a second longer than was strictly necessary before finally retreating into the archives. The familiar silence was more than welcome after a day like today. He’d lost count of how many times Caelus had hit on him since he’d opened his eyes, but it had to have been at least half a dozen. Possibly more. No, probably more. Maybe if he’d directly shut it down, he’d have been spared the continuous barrage, but he couldn’t be bothered.
Walking farther into the room, he set the book he’d been trying to read down on his desk, free hand coming up to run through his hair, trying not to think too hard about it. It wasn’t like it mattered all that much anyway – with Caelus planning to stay on the Space Station, he’d only be his problem for a short period of time anyway. Dropping himself into his chair, he pulled up the data bank interface, determined to log today’s events before he tried to get any sleep. That, and the sooner he got Caelus’ information plugged in, the sooner he could stop thinking about him entirely.
His eyes dropped to the interface, fingers hovering over it ready to type, but it wasn’t data that kept pulling at his focus. His mind kept circling back to Caelus’ smile and, more specifically, the way it hadn’t reached his eyes in the hallway a moment ago. With a shake of his head, he pulled up a new entry page and started to type. Best to get Caelus’ data out of the way first.
Breakfast on the Astral Express had gotten really comfortable really fast. Maybe a little bit too fast, considering Caelus had only been accepted as the newest member of the crew six days ago. But since he only remembered the last seven days of his life as a whole, maybe that wasn’t actually so bad. It sure didn’t stop him from reaching for the last piece of bacon on the plate in front of him, right at the very same time March did, the tines of their forks jamming together in a standstill.
“Hey, don’t even think about it!” March said, refusing to move her fork.
“Too late. Already thought about it – still thinking about it.” Caelus kept his fork there, trying to slowly tug the piece of bacon away from his rival, which went about as well as one might expect it to. “Hey, come on, I called dibs.”
“You can’t call dibs on communal breakfast food!” March quipped back, taking her turn to try and yank the bacon back from him, and also failing miserably.
“Sure I can.” The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of two forks scraping against the plate and clanking into each other, that last strip of bacon somehow managing to stay in one piece despite the war over who would get to consume it.
In his peripheral vision, Caelus saw Welt reach forward to set his coffee cup down, then slowly lean in closer to Himeko. Whether they were supposed to hear it or not, Caelus couldn’t really be sure, but Mr. Yang didn’t bother to lower his voice. At least, not by much. “Should we be intervening?”
“And ruin our morning entertainment?” Himeko asked, smirking slightly behind her coffee cup. “Absolutely not. They only get to be young once.”
Then, like luck had decided today was simply not his day, the piece of bacon broke, leaving only about two thirds of it under his fork. There was about a split second of both of them staring down at the plate before they immediately scrambled to try to snatch up the bigger piece. Not that he really stood much of a chance, and he knew it, but he had to try. Unfortunately, that effort ended up losing him the smaller piece of bacon, too, March snatching it up from right under his nose.
“Oh, don’t pout at me like that,” she mumbled right after shoving the remaining bacon in her mouth, giving him a furrowed-brow pout of her own. “I can’t give you any now anyway.”
“I meeeeeean, you could,” Caelus pointed out, bouncing his brows at her playfully, which he was pretty sure earned him a choked laugh from Welt at the other end of the table. By now, everyone had gotten used to Caelus being, well… Caelus. The flirting, the jokes, the general chaos he seemed to bring to everything he did. And March had learned to throw it right back at him.
“That’s what you’re going with?” she mumbled around the mouthful, staring at him with a deadpan look. He leaned a little closer into her, giving her a rather theatrical wink, which only earned him an eyeroll. “Really?”
“Hey, a guy’s gotta try, right?” That got him a laugh, at least, even if it was accompanied by a shove to the shoulder. March was probably the easiest for him to get along with on the train, partly because even though he was driving her crazy now, she’d still come looking for him later when she inevitably got bored. Then, they’d come up with another bright idea of how to keep themselves busy, cause some sort of chaos, and need one of their crewmates to clean up after them (or make them clean up after themselves, which was definitely worse).
Luckily, she didn’t take his flirtatious comments seriously – he wasn’t sure how exactly he would explain to her that he didn’t actually mean it like that. As much as he liked her, Caelus was positive he wasn’t going to look at her one day and have an “oh shit, feelings” moment. March was too similar to him in too many ways for him to even entertain the idea, and she’d seemed to come to the same conclusion early on, referring to him as an “older brother” by day two. Which had, of course, devolved into an argument over which of them was older that Dan Heng refused to weigh in on.
Himeko hadn’t had much to offer toward that debate either – she’d just watched them over the rim of her coffee cup with that same amused smirk she often wore. Caelus had no idea how she drank… whatever that stuff was. It sure didn’t taste like any coffee he’d tried before, even though he did his best to pretend it was good when he mistakenly took the offer of having a cup. March had sat and cackled at the other end of the table, and Welt had hidden his amusement behind his own cup of coffee. One he’d had the foresight to brew himself.
Welt was definitely better at making coffee, although Caelus suspected the cup he’d given him had been decaf. That, or the anime the older Nameless had picked for them to watch just wasn’t to his taste. Despite all his interest in them initially, it turned out that giant fighting robots, or rather, people fighting in giant mech suits wasn’t really his cup of tea when it came to media. Not that he said that to Mr. Yang or anything. He just sat there quietly, definitely not nodding off halfway through every episode for the entire four hours that he didn’t have the heart to try and escape from.
He was pretty sure it would’ve been even longer than that if Pom-Pom hadn’t poked their head into Welt’s room to collect him. Caelus had never been so excited about being put on a chore schedule in his life, or to be shown where to find the mops and brooms and which one was for what. Well, the whole like… four days of it he could remember at that point in time, but that wasn’t the point. He wouldn’t remember which tools should be used for what, either, but he still did his best to pay attention. Pink broom for the Parlour Car, green for the Passenger Car. Or was it the other way around?
There was only one person on the Express that he couldn’t quite figure out yet.
Dan Heng was… different from everyone else on the Astral Express. He was quiet, composed in a way Caelus wouldn’t have thought possible if he wasn’t witnessing it firsthand. Seemingly unbothered by the chaos he and March had turned into a daily occurrence. He was pretty sure the world could straight up be falling apart around him, and that carefully neutral expression would still be firmly locked in place. He’d tried everything he could think of, too – compliments, jokes, even casual flirtation, which usually got him some kind of reaction, even if it was just March telling him to shut up.
But all he ever got from Dan Heng was that blank stare. Not a smile, or a laugh. Not even the tiniest flicker of irritation. The newcomer might as well not have said anything to him at all. It was making it difficult to really find where he fit in with him, how their puzzle pieces lined up with each other and the rest of the puzzle. And he was determined to figure that out, one way or another, and maybe that was why he started paying closer attention to the self-appointed archivist.
It was little things he’d noticed, though that was partly because the only things there to notice were the little ones. Like how he always woke up just a little bit before everyone else, even though he was almost certain he was the last to go to sleep at night. The only room he ever heard sound coming from well past midnight was the archives, which he’d since learned were also where Dan Heng slept. What a nerd. He also noticed that he always made his tea in the exact same methodical way, so precisely timed Caelus wasn’t even sure he used a timer to brew it right.
When he did come out to the Parlour Car, he always sat in that same particular way – one leg crossed over the other, book held in one hand, the other supporting his head, elbow propped either on a table or on the arm of a couch. If it wasn’t for the fact that neutrality seemed to carry into everything, Caelus might have almost assumed he was bored by everything he read. But there was something about his eyes, a particularly unique jade colour, that gave away the smallest hints. Like how when something caught his interest, they sharpened their focus, no longer seeming to look straight through everything.
Those eyes were his tell and probably his one hope of ever reading him enough to get somewhere. When he was really listening, his eyes would dart up from whatever he was reading or working on for less than a second before dropping back down. Caelus could have sworn he’d seen the slightest flicker of curiosity in them at one point, but he had yet to draw those eyes towards him in response to anything other than him being completely ridiculous. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have those eyes focused entirely on him instead of looking through him – and what exactly it would take for him to achieve that. The thought lingered for a bit before he was able to shake it off, finally reaching for his coffee, which had apparently gone cold already.
It wasn’t like Dan Heng owed him anything – hell, realistically, Caelus owed him for saving his life. Didn’t really mean much when the person he owed a favour to didn’t seem the least bit interested in interacting with him in any way, shape, or form. But he also didn’t have to stop trying if his now-crewmate didn’t ever tell him to. Basically asking for it by never responding. Which was exactly what Caelus was expecting when his attention shifted off the lost bacon and onto the stoic man sitting directly across from him, a cup of tea pressed to his lips.
“You know, you get this look when you’re reading,” Caelus started, pointing at him with the end of his fork, which earned him a quiet grumble from Pom-Pom a few seats over, syrup dripping from the tines onto the tablecloth. Woops. At least he hadn’t accidentally flung any at his crewmate. “It makes you more unfairly attractive than you already are.”
Nothing. Caelus was about to resign himself to another failure but– jade irises flicked up to look at him, barely long enough to really register him as far as he could tell, then dropped back to the cup of tea in his hands, lowering it onto the saucer. He didn’t say anything, didn’t really even do anything, just picked up the datapad and went back to typing out notes. Did I imagine that? He kept his eyes on him, waiting to see if it would happen again, but Dan Heng was already back to being absorbed in whatever it was he was typing out. Back to giving nothing away.
“How many times has that not worked now?” March interjected before he could fully decipher whether he was just seeing what he wanted to. Which was fine, really, because what difference would it have really made if he did look at him? Not much. March’s attention turned to Dan Heng. “Are you just gonna let him keep going?”
Dan Heng barely looked up from the datapad, almost seemed like he didn’t hear her at first. But after a few seconds, he finally lifted his eyes to look at the pair across from him. They had that distant look he got when he wasn’t fully present, and he maintained that same neutral tone he always spoke in around Caelus. “Why would I stop him?”
“Ugh,” March groaned, rolling her eyes in Caelus’ direction, like this was all his fault. Well, it technically was his fault, but he couldn’t just sit back and let Dan Heng keep ignoring him like that. His partner in crime didn’t seem all that interested anymore, already turning back to him with a giddy grin. “Wanna come see Asta with me later? She said they’ve got some new weird artifact we can look at.”
“Yeah?” Caelus asked, his eyes lighting up. He’d concluded in the last week that no, research was definitely not his cup of tea, at least not the data collection part of it. The helping part – fighting monsters and smashing things in simulation settings? That part, he loved. “Count me in.”
“Please, you two, try not to break anything this time,” Mr. Yang piped up, shooting March a look of warning over the top of his glasses.
“That was one time!” March protested, shoulders coming up defensively.
“It was three times,” Himeko corrected gently, though the smirk she wore told Caelus enough to know she wasn’t actually mad. Apparently, he would know if she was really mad, according to March.
“It was an accident, I swear!” March continued, engaging the crew’s Seniors in a debate over whether she could be held at fault over her clumsiness or not.
Caelus didn’t mean to tune them out, he really didn’t. But his mind had gotten snagged on something, like catching on a rock at the edge of fast-flowing rapids. “Why would I stop him?” Like everything with him, it had been so carefully worded, so neutral in tone, that he couldn’t really make heads or tails of it. Did he care at all that he was persistently hitting on him? Or even trying to talk to him? Was he really that indifferent towards his presence that it wasn’t affecting him at all? Or was that some kind of weird permission for him to keep tossing the one-liners his way? He hadn’t opposed it at all over the last week, just continued to ignore it all.
What if he kind of liked the attention? From someone like me? Fuck no. Self-deprecating humour was something Caelus had evidently retained after his memory was wiped, according to Kafka. He didn’t really know who she was, but she seemed… familiar to him. Warm in a way he didn’t quite know how to place, and knowing what she was to the universe made that familiarity feel wrong, somehow. Difficult to reconcile. And maybe that was why Dan Heng was so indifferent toward him. Maybe he was being cautious, keeping the trash at arm’s length so it would be easier to toss out later. Can’t blame him.
Golden eyes wandered back up to steal a glance at the stoic man, who’d turned his attention back to his tea, eyes trained on March. She was frantically waving her arms, nearly knocking over his way-too-sweet coffee, going off about something that apparently happened two warp jumps ago. He tried to piece it together, but judging by the looks on everyone but Dan Heng’s faces, nobody else had any idea what she’d gotten on about, either. He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him, derailing her mid-thought.
“Hey, what are you laughing at?!” she exclaimed, turning to him with a look of mock offense. He immediately put both hands up like he was being held at gunpoint, but one of those hands quickly had to abandon post in order to cover his mouth and muffle the next laugh. That was all it took for her to crack and start laughing with him, which earned a few head shakes and hidden smirks around the table. “Okay, okay, let’s get going before Pom-Pom puts us on clean up duty.”
The conductor’s ears twitched, and Caelus knew full well they’d heard the stage-whisper, but were clearly choosing not to acknowledge it. For now, at least, and he wasn’t about to waste such a good opportunity. Glancing up, his eyes hovered on Dan Heng for a moment, whose attention was fully back on his research now. He debated inviting him to come along, but something in his gut told him not to bother. Doesn’t really seem like his kind of thing.
“Let’s go,” he stage-whispered back to March, the two of them picking up their plates and scurrying off as quickly as they could manage.
Caelus didn’t get to hear the content but exasperated little sigh Himeko let out as they vanished, nor to hear Welt mutter something about kids these days. Even if he had heard it, his mind was still too preoccupied to comment on it.
“Why would I stop him?”
“Oh, shoot!” March said, both hands coming up to cover her mouth, eyes wide. She lifted her head up to look quickly between Caelus and Asta. “I forgot I promised Mr. Yang I’d help him with something today!”
“Huh? But–” Caelus started, but March was already backing away, the mock look of shock slipping ever so slightly, replaced with a smile that said she was far too pleased with herself.
“Sorry, I gotta go. You two have fun though!” She called as she turned and darted around the corner, leaving the two of them standing alone in the curio room. When he turned to apologize to Asta for… whatever that was, he was surprised to find her smirking, arms folded in front of herself.
“She’s not very subtle, is she?” she asked, letting out a quiet sigh.
“Nah, she never is,” Caelus started, tucking both his hands into his coat pockets. It might have appeared to be a nervous habit if it wasn’t for the confident grin he wore when he leaned in and quietly teased, “Pretty sure you were hoping she’d do that, though.”
The researcher let out a light, bubbly laugh, one hand coming up to rest against her lips as if trying to contain it. Pretty. That same hand moved to tuck a loose strand of pink hair behind her ear, a faint flush tinging her cheeks. “Well, I have been hoping to catch you alone for a few days now.”
“Mission accomplished.” Caelus tilted his head, that easy grin still firmly in place. He might not remember anything from before, but there was familiarity in certain things – this was one of them. This, he knew how to do. “So, what happens now that you’ve got me?”
Asta pushed off from the railing she’d been leaning against, the soft smile she wore stretching ever so slightly. “I was thinking we could actually check out that artifact. Or…” She closed some of the distance between them, eyes tracking over his face. “We could just skip the pretense.”
“I think I like that second option better.” Caelus matched her energy without really thinking too much about it, closing the distance between them enough now that he could make out the individual shades of blue in her eyes. Could see how they crinkled at the corners when she smiled. “I gotta ask though – what were you planning once you got me alone?”
“Honestly?” She reached out, fingers brushing against his sleeve like she was adjusting the fabric where it had gotten slightly wrinkled. It was light, casual – but it lingered just a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary, fingers tracing down along his arm. “I was hoping you might make that part easy for me.”
“Lucky for you, I’m very accommodating.” Caelus leaned into the touch, hyperaware of the point of contact between them. His pulse picked up by a few beats, though it wasn’t because he was nervous. No, it was all in anticipation. The good kind of anxious. “So, should I give you my number, or are you gonna skip that and invite me over?”
“Well, aren’t you ambitious.” Asta’s smile widened, a mischievous air flickering across her features. Her hand was still on his arm, thumb brushing against the skin just below where his sleeve was rolled up to in a way that couldn’t be anything but deliberate. “And what if I want both?”
“Then you must have pretty good taste, if I say so myself.” The words came easily, like he’d known exactly what to say before stepping into the conversation in the first place. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d done something like this before, even if he couldn’t actually remember it. It earned another bright, bubbly laugh from her, and Caelus felt a warmth spread through his chest in response, let himself start to relax into it. It was a familiar rhythm, a back and forth of building tension and the unspoken understanding of where this was almost definitely heading. Easy. Comfortable. Someone actually responding instead of–
“Why would I stop him?”
The echoed words cut through every other thought, sharp and unwelcome. Caelus had to focus to keep his expression from falling, those carefully neutral jade eyes flashing through his mind against his will. He shoved the images away, stuffed the thought down for later. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about that – not like it really mattered anyway.
“Alright, then how about this,” Asta started, already pulling her phone from her pocket and swiping the screen open in one seamless motion. “Give me your number, and then we can–”
Before she could get another word out, a bubble with Herta’s face on it appeared on her screen, a rather loud and obnoxious ringing tone cutting her off. It didn’t seem like the kind of tune Asta would pick, and judging by the look on her face, maybe she actually hadn’t. He raised an eyebrow questioningly, one of his hands slowly sliding around her waist as she tapped the answer button on her phone.
“Yes, Madam Herta? Uh huh… I thought– Well, of course, but–...” Her expression deflated, head tipping forward to rest against Caelus’ shoulder, rolling it back and forth in a wobbly shaking, She was clearly annoyed, but it was actually kind of cute. “Yes, Madam Herta. Of course… I’ll get on it right away.”
“Raincheck?” he asked as she pulled her phone away from her ear, not even bothering to hang up the call. Knowing Herta, she’d hung up before Asta had even finished her last reply – she knew Asta was at her beck and call, and given their agreement, Caelus couldn’t exactly blame her.
“Number. Now,” she said firmly, handing him her phone. There was nothing rude about her tone – just the exasperation of a researcher called back to academia. He tapped his number in like it was muscle memory – whatever he’d been made to forget, this was just another one of those things that seemed to have bled through. He handed her back her phone and she typed something quickly.
His own phone vibrated in his pocket, and he smirked – of course Asta would text him right away. Not that she couldn’t find him if he did give her a fake number, but that wasn’t really his style. How do I even know that? “Should I let you get back to the tyrant?”
“Oh, she’s not so bad once…” Asta trailed off, grimacing when she realized there really wasn’t much she could say to redeem Herta to most people. Shaking her head, she stretched up onto the tips of her toes and unexpectedly pressed her lips to his. It wasn’t a heated or urgent kissed, but the soft kind that left a lingering promise for more. It earned a quiet satisfied hum from Caelus, who couldn’t help noticing the lingering taste of cherries on his lips. Regrettably, Asta broke away from him after no more than ten seconds, planting a second quick peck on his cheek. “Text me later.~”
Shooting a wink back over her shoulder, she darted out of the room, clearly trying to make up for the short liberty she’d taken with her response time. Caelus stood there for a few minutes after she left, clicking open the message she sent. He stared at the winking kiss emoji for way too long, like maybe it could answer why this wasn’t giving him the sense of satisfaction he’d been hoping for. Not that he was disappointed – Asta was pretty, interested, and he was sure they’d have fun when she got some free time later. The kiss had been nice, too – easy, comfortable, carrying a promise of more.
But somehow, he still felt like he was coming up short. The whole amnesia thing aside, Caelus wasn’t all that interested in getting involved with someone in any sort of serious way. Especially not emotionally, not when he didn’t know whether his memory would short circuit again, or when the Express would leave the Space Station and he’d have to let go of whatever it was. And that’s exactly what this was – easy, uncomplicated, no strings attached. But the satisfaction of getting her number felt… hollow. Meaningless. That’s literally what you wanted, dipshit. Oh well. Before he could pocket it, his phone buzzed again, and he looked down to see March 7th’s name pop up.
March 7th: Good luck! ;)
Caelus: Thanks, but Herta interrupted.
He hit send without thinking. Then, for March’s sake, he followed up with a quick addition.
Caelus: Got her digits tho!
March 7th: HOW!? You’re about as smooth as a brick.
Caelus: Not when they actually flirt back lol.
March didn’t respond to that, just reacted to the text with a smirking emoji. Only then did he realize what that must have looked like, and his thumbs flew across the screen faster than he could think.
Caelus: Not what I meant March.
Another smirk reaction.
Caelus: I’M SERIOUS THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT
March 7th: Uh huh, sure.
Caelus rubbed a hand down over his face, shoving his phone back into his pocket and ignoring the repeated vibrating now. He knew it wouldn’t be Asta, and aside from March, most of the Express crew had only texted him once, so he’d have their number. Except Dan Heng – he’d left it up to him to extrapolate it from the Astral Express group chat on his own once he’d been invited. Another thing that hadn’t exactly made him feel like his presence was wanted there.
“Why would I stop him?” The question haunted his thoughts as he shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way back toward the train.
Prior to Caelus’ arrival on the Express, Dan Heng had held a running record for having the worst sleep schedule among the crew. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay awake late in the night adding entries to the data bank, only to rise before everyone else. But his newest crewmate’s idea of a sleep schedule was really anything but. He seemed to operate on a sporadic cycle, going until he’d burned every last drop of energy until he inevitably crashed on one of the couches in the Parlour car for anywhere between four and ten hours. And then he’d be up again, seemingly able to wake up at the drop of a pin and be fully functional.
So when Dan aheng wandered to the Parlour Car while heading to make himself a tea late into the night, what surprised him wasn’t that Caelus was still awake. It was the fact that this usually restless, chaotic human being that never seemed to stop moving was standing almost completely still near one of the windows, head tipped up to look out at the stars beyond the glass. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, no phone in sight, which suggested he hadn’t interrupted one of his thirty second brain breaks, as March had so aptly named them. He was just watching the sky, staring at the stars like he was trying to memorize their shape and colour.
Caelus didn’t look away from the window until he let the door to the passenger car click quietly shut behind him. Only then did his head turn, just enough for golden eyes to dart in his direction and meet his gaze, holding that eye contact for only a few seconds before looking back up at the window. No greeting, no offhanded compliment or flirtatious joke. He should have been relieved at the opportunity to slip past and carry on with his night, that he wouldn’t be subjected to another terrible attempt to get a reaction out of him.
Instead, the silence that hung over the Parlour Car felt weighted.
Maybe that was why, instead of going to make his tea so he could retreat to the archives, he stopped a few feet short of where Caelus stood. Turning to look up at the sky, his own arms folded across his chest as he asked casually, “Can’t sleep?”
“Nah.” Caelus didn’t look at him, eyes still fixed on the stars like they were the only thing in the world right now. “Brain won’t shut up.”
“Mm.” A quiet hum was all he could offer in response, taken aback by the honesty and unsure what to do with it. Caelus had proven quite apt at deflecting questions, either dodging them entirely or answering with a joke to water down the honesty in his words. This wasn’t that.
“Going to make tea?” Caelus asked, looking briefly in his direction with a furrow of his brow. Then, a little quieter, “Earlier than usual.”
“Brain won’t shut up,” he repeated quietly and saw the faintest smile pull at Caelus’ lips. He hadn’t expected him to be attentive enough to notice changes in his everyday pattern. Maybe I really don’t give him enough credit. After a minute of them both staring up at the stars, the silence no longer heavy, but not quite comfortable either, he added, “I could make enough for two if you want some.”
The ghost of a smile that had formed on Caelus’ lips faltered, momentarily replaced by a fleeting look of surprise. As quickly as it showed, it was gone again, the smile slightly softer now. “Yeah. That’d be nice, actually. Thanks.”
He nodded and, before either of them could say anything else, slipped out of the Parlour Car and made his way to the Party Car, where all the fixings were to make drinks, including the kettle. Himeko had offered on more than one occasion to get him one for in the archives, but he always declined. With March around, and now Caelus, he knew nothing good would come of having anything more than a cup’s worth of water in the archives. That was just asking for something to get waterlogged – or someone to get electrocuted. Neither option sounded great to him. That, or March 7th would take it upon herself to borrow it anytime she wanted a hot cocoa, but didn’t want to make her way all the way to the Party Car, which would inevitably lead to dirty mugs being left on his desk.
Besides, there wasn’t room in the archives for the nice setup they had just for him. No one had ever said it explicitly, but he’d noticed when the old, worn down kettle had been replaced with a much nicer one one day. He definitely also noticed how, after that, other passengers rarely ever touched the kettle, only really using it when he offered to make them something. Maybe it was small and insignificant, but to him, the little things mattered the most.
As he set the kettle to boil and pulled tea leaves from an upper cupboard, his mind circled back to Caelus. He had to admit, the man was surprising him on more than one level today. He hadn’t taken him as someone who would enjoy gazing up at the night sky, nor as someone who noticed those little things. Yet he’d paid enough attention to know that Dan Heng didn’t normally come through the Parlour Car until late enough that he wouldn’t disturb anyone.
Just this morning, he’d been loud, chaotic, making terrible jokes that made him want to crawl out of his skin, and hitting on literally everyone – especially Dan Heng, no matter how little he gave him in return. Exhausting was the best word to describe him, really. The kind of person that took up all the air in a room without even noticing that no one else could breathe anymore. He wouldn’t be shocked if it was entirely unintentional, really.
Or, at least, he wouldn’t have been, if he hadn’t stumbled across him in the Parlour Car, hands in his pockets as he watched the stars above like they held the answers to everything. If he hadn’t answered so directly, offering up honesty without any deflections, jokes, or flirtatious commentary he could use to dismiss it as something silly or unimportant. It wasn’t almost like now that it was just the two of them, Caelus had stopped putting on a performance. Like maybe he didn’t need to do that with him. But why?
Dan Heng frowned as he pulled the kettle off the heat right as it started to whistle and poured the steaming water into the small teapot he rarely had any reason to use. Maybe that was why he’d been so willing to offer him a cup, too? It wasn’t like it was difficult or any extra trouble, and he could easily bring him the tea and slip back into the archives. It would be so much easier to keep his distance like that – civil, even courteous, but not overly friendly. Something about the thought didn’t sit right with him.
Maybe it was because he’d assumed that the chaotic, restless energy was all there was to Caelus. That he was genuinely just that friendly, flirtatious, impulsive person that didn’t think too deeply about anything and lived in the moment. Brushed off the consequences of his actions for others to deal with until there was no one left but him to clean up the mess. He’d considered him a surface-level person, at best. Self-focused. Shallow.
But people like that didn’t notice patterns or routines, didn’t pay attention to others in the way he would have to for him to have noticed that he was making tea earlier tonight. That required more awareness – observation. Things he hadn’t ever considered his newest crewmate might even be capable of. He pulled down two cups for them, both adorned with patterns that matched the teapot, and paused to scoop a small amount of sugar into one. He hadn’t bothered to ask how Caelus liked his tea, but based on how much sugar he put in his coffee, he was pretty sure plain black tea wasn’t going to suit his tastes. Now who’s the one paying attention. He shoved the thought away, filling both cups and setting the empty teapot aside.
“Brain won’t shut up.” Caelus probably didn’t realize just how much Dan Heng understood that. How often he thought too much about everything – the little things, the big ones, everything in between. He knew he should just bring him the slightly sweetened tea and retreat to the archives, to not let curiosity get the better of him. It would be simpler to keep his distance, safer even, for both of them. It would keep things from inevitably becoming… complicated.
But standing there in the Party Car with two steaming cups of tea, Dan Heng couldn’t help but wonder if Caelus would say anything if he stayed. Wondered if that quiet version of him was just another act, another mask to put on when it best suited him, or if this was who Caelus genuinely was beneath the boisterous chaos. What would it be like to sit with him when the performance was over? He let out a heavy sigh, knowing already exactly where this was going. Where he was about to spend the remainder of his waking hours, most likely.
Picking up both cups, he headed back toward the Parlour Car, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid as he stepped over the threshold between the train cars. He’d half expected Caelus to have settled in the ten minutes or so that he’d been gone, but was surprised to find him still standing there, looking up at the stars. There was a distant look in his eyes this time around, like he was off exploring a far off corner of his mind while admiring the galaxy above them. The archivist cleared his throat as he approached, not wanting to scare his crewmate or make him jump when he was standing right beside him with a hot drink.
“Hm?” Caelus hummed quietly, slowly turning his head to look at him a few seconds later. He still had that distant look to him, like he wasn’t fully back on the Express just yet – like wherever his mind had run off to still partly had a hold on him. But when Dan Heng silently held out the cup of lightly sweetened tea, he blinked rapidly a few times, a look of slight surprise flickering through his features. He partly turned to face him and reached out to take the cup, fingers just barely brushing against his. Before he could stop them, his eyes flicked down to the point of contact, retreating as Caelus wrapped his hands around the cup and pulled it toward himself. “Right. Thanks.”
“I didn’t think to ask how you drink your tea,” he added as he passed the cup off, raising his own to blow away some of the steam on the surface, cradling the bottom of his cup in his now-free hand. “I didn’t think you’d enjoy it plain, so I added a bit of sugar.”
He didn’t bother to mention why he made that assumption, figuring further explanation wasn’t necessary. It seemed he didn’t need to elaborate for Caelus to put the pieces together, however, because those golden eyes flicked between him and the cup several times before he lifted it to take a small sip that seemed oddly cautious for him. His brows arched up the slightest bit, and he gave a small hum of approval before going silent again.
This time, Dan Heng didn’t pry, just let his own gaze follow the swirling steam from his mug up to the large window. The stars always looked so different depending on where they were in the cosmos. From the Space Station, they had a view of a clear dark sky, speckled with small patches of white dots clustered close in some places and spread far apart in others. It was less like a repeat pattern and more like an artist had spattered paint at the canvas in sporadic bursts, forgetting to add any colour to their brushes. But even in its simplest form, the cosmos was always breathtaking. His eyes absently wandered back to Caelus, brows furrowing a touch when he realized he wasn’t staring blankly out at the stars anymore, but down into his tea cup.
“Is… everything alright?” he asked hesitantly, part of him afraid he might break the fragile peace that had settled over the evening. Caelus didn’t answer at first, at least not verbally – instead, he just slowly nodded, like he was testing the motion before committing to it.
“Yeah… I’m good. Just thinking.” Caelus went quiet again before taking another small sip from his tea and clearing his throat. Opened his mouth as if to say something, but then seemed to think better of it, until he eventually tried again. “Does it ever stop feeling temporary? Like you just… belong here instead of just waiting for something to change?”
The question caught him off guard, and he was sure it showed in the way his eyes dropped back to his cup, the way his hands tightened around it. Maybe he’d be lucky, and Caelus wouldn’t notice. It should be an easy thing to answer by offering reassurances that the feeling was most certainly temporary, that yes, eventually, he would feel like an integral part of the crew, no different than Pom-Pom or Himeko. It should be easy to just put his mind at ease – but the truth was so much messier than that.
After another extended silence, he could almost feel Caelus shifting, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. There was a nervousness about him that hadn’t been there before, like maybe he felt like he’d overstepped by asking something that everyone on this train had felt at least once.
“I… may not be the right person to ask,” he finally answered. It came out much quieter than he’d meant it to, and came across almost apologetic.
When he finally looked up, he found those golden eyes studying him, an expression on Caelus’ face that he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t hurt, not exactly, but something close to it. Confusion, maybe – like he was trying to work something out without having to ask for the answer.
“What makes you say that?” He finally asked, sounding more cautiously curious than anything.
Instead of answering right away, Dan Heng let out a small sigh and motioned to one of the benches in the Parlour Car. It might even have been the one Caelus had been sleeping on every night, judging by the minuscule grimace he made. That didn’t stop him from dropping down onto the cushion, though, leaning back to give him another one of those curious looks. Dan Heng lowered himself onto the bench, not quite at the complete opposite end, but with enough distance that March could have easily filled the space without touching either of them. It wasn’t meant to be unfriendly, just… cautious. Measured, like everything he did.
He cradled the warm cup in his hands, watching the steams rise up from its surface in slow loops and swirls like they might give him the right answer. It wasn’t a complicated one, but it was at the same time, because he didn’t want to give too much. Didn’t want to tear open wounds that still hadn’t scarred and risk them not healing properly. Again.
“I’ve been with the Astral Express a long time.” It wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it, but Caelus didn’t pry. Just sat there quietly in a way Dan Heng never expected, giving him his undivided attention. “A few years now, actually.”
Caelus’ brows arched up, lips puckering to let out a low, quiet whistle. “Years, huh?”
“Mhm,” Dan Heng hummed, giving a short, sharp nod to reinforce the confirmation. He took a sip of his tea, debating how to elaborate on that statement in a way Caelus might understand. “Sometimes, I still feel like…” He trailed off, one hand letting go of the teacup to make an absent circular motion, as if willing the cogs to turn faster. “Like I’m waiting for the right stop to get off at, I guess.”
“You?” Caelus asked, turning to fully look at him, eyes slightly widened, brows raised. “But you’re–” He paused, gesturing vaguely at Dan Heng, then around the Express. “I thought that…”
He trailed off, seeming to reconsider what he was about to say – like he was realizing that maybe he was making too many assumptions. Like maybe he hadn’t considered that things weren’t always how they looked from the outside. There was an honesty about the confusion, and maybe that was what made him keep talking. Keep elaborating on things he would normally just keep to himself.
“Thought I felt right at home?” Dan Heng finished the thought quietly, looking back down at the surface of his tea. There was no longer steam rising from it, the liquid cooling faster with every sip he took. He was quiet for a long moment, aware of Caelus’ attention still fixed on him. “They gave me a room when I first joined. An actual room, I mean.”
He took a sip of tea, suddenly very aware of how much more he’d said than he meant to. It was cooler now than it had been a few minutes ago, sitting right at that comfortable level of hot before it reached room temperature. He could easily have stopped there. Probably should stop there, if he wanted to maintain any kind of distance between them. That would be the safest option.
“You–” Caelus started, his head tilting slightly. “But you sleep in the archives?”
“Yes,” he confirmed, his jaw tightening. His grip on the cup shifted slightly, thumbs pressing against the warm ceramic. This was too much. He should move onto something else, something less personal, something– “I never used it. The room.”
Caelus didn’t respond to that right away. Instead, he just watched him with that same, careful curiosity from earlier. It wasn’t judging or pushing in any way, just trying to understand, and when he finally spoke again, it didn’t really feel like he was prying so much as it felt like genuine curiosity. “Why not?”
“It…” Dan Heng started, eyes fixed on the surface of his tea. Caelus was being so patient compared to how he usually was, nothing like the restless energy from this morning. “It didn’t feel right, so I couldn’t make myself sleep there.”
He paused, trying again to convince himself that that was enough. Caelus didn’t need to know anything more than that, could make due with what little information he’d given. But something about him sitting there quietly, actually listening instead of putting on his usual chaotic performance, was making it a lot harder to hold back.
“Pom-Pom eventually stopped trying to make me. Just put a bed in the archives for me instead.” His mouth twitched in something that seemed to want to be a smile but didn’t quite meet the mark. Caelus was quiet for a bit, processing that information. He’d asked Dan Heng only a few days earlier where he slept and had seemed surprised when he’d simply motioned to the archives. That information, mixed with what he was saying now, seemed to open a new perspective for him.
“So you had your own room,” Caelus started, as if he were still testing the words to make sure he was understanding right. “But you’re still sleeping in the archives?”
Dan Heng hesitated before giving a short, sharp nod.
“Does it… feel more like yours?” Caelus asked slowly, as if he were carefully selecting his words. “The archives, I mean. More than an actual room would’ve?”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected from Caelus – judgment, maybe, or a sense of confusion over why someone might choose sleeping in a workspace over having a private bedroom. One with actual furniture and small comforts rather than a mattress pad rolled out on the floor with a blanket and a couple of pillows, surrounded by the beeping and whirring of technology. This wasn’t that, though – this was understanding, like just maybe his newest crewmate comprehended why he might feel that way. And maybe that’s what made it easy to keep talking. Easier than it should be.
“Not really,” Dan Heng said simply, the admission surprising even himself a little. His thumb rubbed against the side of his cup, moving up to run along the rim of it while he considered how to elaborate. “It’s not that it feels like mine as much as it doesn’t feel like it belongs to someone else.”
Caelus nodded slowly in response to that, his expression more thoughtful than he’d seen it before. Maybe I really did misjudge him. Then, so quietly Dan Heng was sure it was meant more to himself than him, “Yeah… I get that.”
A heavy silence followed, but it lacked the discomfort of previous moments like this between them. Dan Heng found himself more relaxed, the anticipation of bad jokes or flirtatious advances he didn’t ask for barely more than a fleeting thought at the back of his mind. Although maybe now that he knew there was more to him than those chaotic moments, that Caelus was more than just a walking menace seeking him out to annoy him… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe knowing it was all a mask, at least partially, would make it a little easier to respond to going forward.
“How long?” Caelus asked when their drinks had cooled past room temperature, Dan Heng’s almost completely gone.
“Hm?” he hummed quietly in response, quirking an eyebrow.
“How long have you been sleeping in the archives?” he clarified, golden eyes offering an apologetic glance.
“A little over two years now.” He finished the last drink of his tea at that. Normally, he would get up and head straight for the party car to clean his cup and set it away for the night. He’d then retreat to the archives, settle into his bed, and usually read for another hour or so before sleep finally took hold of him. He did none of those things tonight. “They ended up giving March the room when we found her about a year ago.”
“Ohhh, I was wondering what happened to that room.” He watched Caelus take another drink of his tea, the faintest hint of a grimace creeping onto his features. Dan Heng had to assume it had gone too cold for his liking, considering he’d seemed to enjoy it up to that point – even more so when he tipped the cup up and downed the rest in one drink. Setting it back down on the table, he let out a quiet sigh. “She keeps offering to let me sleep in there. Says it’d be more comfortable than the Parlour Car.”
“She’s probably right,” Dan Heng offered, head tilting to one side as he regarded the man beside him curiously. Had March offered more than one? That seemed to be what he was implying, but then why was he still sleeping in the Parlour Car. There was only one logical reason. “You haven’t taken the offer?”
Caelus shifted slightly on the bench, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “No, I… haven’t.”
“Any particular reason?” Dan Heng kept his tone neutral, genuinely curious to understand the logic behind that decision. Him and March seemed to get along great, after all, so why would he avoid spending more time with her?
“This is probably gonna sound stupid,” Caelus said, eyes dropping to his own now-empty cup rather than holding his gaze. It was so out of character for him, lacking the confidence he usually carried himself with – even the small laugh he let out didn’t sound entirely genuine. Almost self-deprecating. “I just didn’t want to make things weird, I guess.”
Dan Heng opted not to say anything to that, watching as Caelus visibly struggled with how much he should say. Like there was more than just a simple explanation to all of this, more than he was saying, but he wasn’t sure how well it would hold up under scrutiny.
“I mean–” Caelus let go of the back of his neck, running his hand through his hair before letting it come down to settle against the now-empty teacup, thumb tracing absent patterns against it. “I’ve kinda been like… flirting with her a lot? Not seriously or anything, but—“ He made a vague gesture with his hand, growing visibly more uncomfortable with every passing second. “If I start sleeping in her room, it might look… bad. Like I’m actually trying to hook up with her.”
He was very obviously avoiding eye contact now, intently focused on the cup still gripped between both hands. His knuckles were white, likely from holding it a little more tightly than was explicitly necessary, his thumb tracing lines along the cup’s lip.
“Which, I’m not, by the way,” he added quickly, finally glancing up at Dan Heng to gauge his reaction. “At all. I just– I don’t want you to think–”
Dan Heng blinked several times, confused as to what any of this had to do with him. Or why Caelus was so concerned what he would think about it. “And that would concern me because…?”
Caelus’ hands stilled on his mug, his face scrunching in a way that suggested he was thinking hard. Possibly recalculating assumptions he’d made or conclusions he’d drawn based on observation — or maybe just suspicion. “So, you two really aren’t, like–?”
“No,” he said flatly, followed by a quiet huff of air that could’ve almost been a laugh. “March is sweet and all, but she’s more like a little sister to me. I don’t know if I could ever look at her that way.”
“Oh.” The word came out so quietly, it was almost more of a breath than a word. Caelus’ entire posture relaxed, his shoulders sinking from how much tension had just unwound itself from his shoulders. He let out a small, almost hollow sounding laugh, both hands coming up to shove his face into his palms. “I’m such an idiot.” The words were muffled, followed by a quiet groan, fingers parting so he could peek over at him.
“No comment,” he offered a little dryly, pushing to his feet and collecting both empty teacups. Caelus dropped his hands, giving him an expression of mock offense. That earned the tiniest smile out of Dan Heng, but his companion for the evening wouldn’t have the fortune of seeing it, not with him turning away.
He slipped away quickly, returning to the Party Car to clean and set away the cups. When that was finished, he ran a hand down over his face, a small sigh escaping him. He was doomed to forever be mistaken for March’s boyfriend, wasn’t he? Even their own crewmate hadn’t been able to tell that their connection was strictly platonic. Not that that stressed him out – if anything, it benefitted him, allowing him the luxury to slip under the radar, away from anyone too interested in looking too hard. He was sure March didn’t feel quite the same about it.
Now that tea was gone and he’d already said too much, he should get back to the archives. Finish off the work he’d left half entered into the data bank and possibly get some sleep. He’d already given up too much information about himself – might as well have given Caelus a knife and told him where to stick it to strike a devastating blow. And judging by the clock in the Party Car. He’d spent over an hour sitting with him in the Parlour Car. That was more than enough for the night. It should have been.
So why, then, did he make his way back into the Parlour Car and reclaim his seat? He kept that same careful distance, but this time he angled his body to face his crewmate a little better, watching the confusion flicker through his features. “Not heading back to the archives?”
“Do you want me to?” He asked flatly, his expression remaining carefully neutral. At least if Caelus said yes, there was no more reason to feel any kind of way about leaving. That made it easier.
Except Caelus didn’t seem to know how to make things easy, it seemed. “No! No, I just – you don’t normally hang out in here much.”
There was something in the tone of Caelus’ voice that caught him slightly off guard. Why does he seem upset about that? That was news to him. “The archives are… quieter.”
“Right. Yeah, you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t like a lot of noise.” There it was again, only this time, it felt more like disappointment, laced with maybe a hint of guilt. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck again, a gesture that was very clearly a nervous habit for him. Because apparently, even Caelus got nervous sometimes. “I’m probably not helping with that, huh? Being all loud and stuff all the time.” He let out another small, self-deprecating laugh, gaze dropping to his own lap. “Not that there’s anything wrong with wanting quiet or anything. I get it. Some people just need space and I should really just–”
Dan Heng watched as Caelus visibly shrank more into himself with every word, shoulders sinking, back slowly hunching. Any semblance of the confident air he usually carried himself with was entirely missing, and it was actually uncomfortable to watch. Not because of what Caelus was saying, exactly, but because he was very clearly feeling guilty for just… being himself in a shared space. What the hell was your life like before?
“Caelus,” he said gently, interrupting the spiral before it could go any further. His crewmate stopped rambling mid sentence, hand dropping down into his lap. He had an apprehensive look on his features when he finally looked over, like he was expecting a lecture. “I don’t stay in the archives because of you.”
The change in demeanour was almost immediate: he sat a little straighter, shoulders no longer drooping, and his expression held a complicated mix of surprise and relief. “You don’t?”
“No,” Dan Heng stated simply, his voice quiet. “I’ve always spent most of my time in the archives, even before you came around.”
“Really?” Caelus’ brows furrowed slightly, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe that or not. “I always figured you were trying to avoid the chaos.”
“The data bank doesn’t manage itself.” A simple explanation, but it was true. Mostly. Caelus didn’t need to know the details of why he had a habit of self-imposed isolation. No one did.
“Right, yeah. That actually makes a lot of sense.” Caelus slowly nodded, his entire body finally seeming to relax back into the bench. “So it’s more about the work than the noise?”
“Mostly,” he agreed, giving a tiny nod in confirmation. “It’s easier to focus in there.”
Caelus was quiet for a few seconds longer this time before asking almost nervously, “So does that mean I’m not driving you crazy?”
“You would know if you were,” Dan Heng said simply.
That earned him a surprised laugh out of Caelus, some of the tension still left in his shoulders unwinding. “Would I though?”
“Mmh.” A hum was all he would offer in response, which really wasn’t much of an answer at all. He knew that, and Caelus seemed to know it too.
Still, after a moment, the corner of his mouth pulled up like he was going to smile but didn’t quite – almost like he’d decided to take it as an answer anyway. The silence that followed felt so much easier than before. Caelus’ gaze drifted back up toward the window, and Dan Heng let his own gaze follow, both of them tracking the stars as they slid past the train.
“Do they always look like this?” he asked after a moment, his voice gone much quieter than before. “The stars, I mean. Is this what they look like everywhere?”
Dan Heng tipped his head slightly, watching the sky beyond the glass. “No. They change depending on where you are in the cosmos.”
“Really?” Caelus turned his head to look at him, eyes bright with curiosity. “Do they change a little or is it a lot?”
Dan Heng was quiet for a moment, turning to look away from the window to meet those golden eyes again, contemplating how best to explain. “Some galaxies have more colour. Blue, purples, and reds bleeding through. Some are so dense with stars, the nights never really get dark, and neither does the sky.”
“Are there others like this?” Caelus asked, looking back out at the dark sky, speckled with sparsely spread out white dots. Quiet in a way some places in the cosmos weren’t.
“Sometimes.” Instead of looking back out to the familiar sky, Dan Heng found himself watching the other man curiously. He seemed content to just observe, to soak in the surrounding galaxy. “Other times there’s almost nothing out there at all.”
Caelus didn’t reply this time around, just shifted in his seat. It was a small, subtle movement, just enough to shift the position he was sitting in. He might not even have noticed it if he was looking anywhere but at Caelus’ face, had he not caught the slight grimace flash across his features. It wasn’t the first time he’d adjusted his position in the last few minutes, either – this had just been the most noticeable.
“Do you have a favourite?” Caelus asked suddenly, eyes still on the sky. “Galaxy, I mean. Do you have a favourite out of the ones you’ve seen?”
Dan Heng thought about that quietly for a moment, finally letting his eyes drift back up toward the stars. Following a thin line of them along the upper edge of the window. “Not particularly. I think all of them have something worth seeing.”
Caelus let out a quiet sound, something between a laugh and a sigh. He wasn’t sure if it was meant as approval or acknowledgement, but Dan Heng chose not to ask. Not after seeing the way his eyes softened when they met the sky again, of the way he went completely still in a way he was learning Caelus rarely ever was. Then, he watched him shift again, rolling his weight slightly to one side – this time, the grimace was much more noticeable, harder to dismiss.
He couldn’t help but turn his head and look around the Parlour Car. The benches were comfortable enough that March 7th had indulged in several naps on them, much to Pom-Pom’s chagrin, though she never spent the night out here. He himself had spent a few nights asleep on those benches – which is also how he knew the Parlour Car never fully went dark, that there was always a risk of someone coming through louder than they needed to right after you’d fall asleep. It certainly wasn’t easy to fall asleep with the starlight bleeding through every window, and the pot lights in the ceiling always dimly lit.
Then, his eyes settled back on Caelus, who had gone still again, eyes distant but fixed on the stars. Quieter than before, he observed aloud, “You look tired.”
Caelus looked over, something flickering through his eyes faster than Dan Heng could make sense of it. Then, his mouth pulled into that same easy smile he wore every day. “I’m fine,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.
Neither of them looked away for a moment, then the archivist looked up at the sky again before pushing himself to his feet. His crewmate still hadn’t looked away – he could see him looking up in his peripheral vision, but couldn’t make out his features, couldn't guess what he might be thinking. “If you want to get a decent night’s sleep,” he started, his voice sounding far more sure than he felt about an offer he hadn’t really meant to make. And yet he still kept talking. “The archives aren’t as bright as out here, or as loud.”
Caelus was quiet for just a moment too long for the pause to be natural. Then, in a tone that wasn’t all that convincing, he said, “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, either.” Dan Heng didn’t need to look over to see his hand come up in that same nervous gesture as before.
It didn’t come as much of a surprise – he’d been flirting with him almost more than he had been with March 7th, after all. Dan Heng understood how that might look to some people. He also knew how well the rest of the crew knew him, knew how he operated, the things he did and did not do. He contemplated leaving it be for a moment, then before he’d fully decided said, “That’s not something you need worry about with me.”
Again, there was no immediate response, just a quiet shuffle on the benches beside him. Whether his crewmate was moving to get up, or to get more comfortable, he really wasn’t sure. But then, he let out a small breath that was almost a laugh. “Yeah, alright,” he said, following suit and getting to his feet, albeit a little less steadily. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” he said simply, sounding far more confident about it than he felt about the impulsive decision to sacrifice what little privacy he had, at least temporarily.
The archives were exactly as he’d left them, the lights already dimmed most of the way down, the light from the data bank’s interface currently the brightest thing in the room. He turned the lights up enough that Caelus could navigate to where he would be sleeping, which was right about when he realized how little he’d actually thought this through.
It wasn’t exactly a large space, given that almost all of the information collected on the Express was stored in the data bank. There was only a desk, on which sat the data bank’s interface and the datapad he’d been using earlier, screen still lit up, a chair in front of it, and just slightly off to the side of it, on the same raised portion of the flooring, a decently sized mattress pad, two pillows, and a blanket. He only ever really used one pillow, often losing the other to March 7th when she fell asleep in there and refused to relinquish it when brought back to her own room, so that wouldn’t be an issue. There was only one blanket, though, and the archives tended to run a little colder than most rooms on the Express.
Behind him, he heard Caelus walk into the room and stop just inside the door. “So, uh…” he trailed off, and when Dan Heng turned around, he was looking down at the only visible bed in the room before looking around, as if he might find a second one hidden somewhere in there. “Are you sure no one’s gonna think–”
“Positive,” Dan Heng reassured him, slipping off his coat and folding it carefully to set it on the edge of the desk. If there was one thing in this conversation he felt sure about, it was that. “Trust me when I say it’s better than one of March’s bean bag chairs.”
Caelus let out a heavy breath that might’ve been a laugh, except that it sounded like he’d been holding it up to that point. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s– okay.” Caelus’s hand came up to run through his hair, and even in the dim lighting, the faint flush his complexion took on was obvious. Dan Heng’s eyes lingered on his face a beat longer than was strictly necessary – Caelus, who’d been making effortless passes at him all week, gone red over something as simple as this. Looking away should’ve been easier than it was – under different circumstances, it would have been.
Dan Heng could easily ask him to leave, if he wanted to, but he did no such thing. Caelus could have left at any time. They could easily go their separate ways and never mention this again. Instead, after a beat of silence, Caelus moved to lay down while he turned off the lights. The faint lights from the databank interface were enough for him to find the empty side of the bed, sliding under the already slightly lifted blanket that he was suddenly grateful was so overly large. As soon as he laid down, he reached a hand up to the desk and flicked a switch that powered down all the lights without shutting off the system entirely, then lay on his side, facing away from his company for the night. He kept his attention fixed on the quiet hum of the data bank, the darkness enveloping him, and tried not to focus on how little space there was between them now.
“Hey, Dan Heng?” The question was hesitant, almost like he wasn’t sure he would get a response. He almost didn’t.
“Mm?” he hummed back after a moment, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Thanks.” There was no joke behind it, no bad one-liner that followed. Just a genuine show of gratitude, followed by the sound of him settling down onto the other pillow.
It didn’t take long for his breathing to even out, Dan Heng following soon after.