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The stars outside the Express parlor car’s window blink and they shine, and really, Stelle adores the sight. So many systems, so many patterns, so many galaxies… both comforting and isolating. One could think about it for the rest of eternity.
Although, it’s hard to lose yourself in the constellations when there’s someone using your shoulder as a pillow.
March passed out some time ago. She didn’t even bother to finish her juice, Stelle notes, taking the last sip of her own juice and picking her phone back up. No wonder why Pom-Pom hates getting it for her.
Though the pink-haired girl is often energetic, her face in sleep is still and peaceful. Stelle can’t help but watch her for a moment— up, and down; up, and down; her breaths are steady. She must really be asleep. With a small smile, she pats the top of March’s head and snaps a quick photo of them together.
Stelle hasn’t been here for long— she’s spent perhaps a total of a day on the Express itself, dedicating the rest of the time to the sealing of the Stellaron in Belobog. But if there’s one thing she remembers, it’s that Pom-Pom is extremely strict about curfew. If they didn’t want to be on their bad side…
“March,” she whispers, poking a finger in her side. “Hey. Wake up.”
Her poke goes unanswered.
“March. March.” Another poke. Another one. No answer.
“March!” She shoves her thumb into March’s ribs this time, making her squeal and bolt upright.
“The heck was that for?” She groans, rubbing her eyes. “I’m sleepy!”
“Pom-Pom’s going to tie us up and throw us out the windows if we don’t get to bed soon.” Stelle shows her her phone, revealing the time. “Plus, I’m sure your actual pillow will be much more comfortable than my bony shoulders.”
March closes her eyes again, resting her head on Stelle’s shoulder. “I dunno. I like them both.”
Stelle’s face feels warm, but she chooses to ignore this. “Come on. Bed.”
“Fine,” March sighs, getting up dramatically and stomping after Stelle.
The two awkwardly shuffle towards the cabins, out of the parlor car. They stop to look at each other— an unspoken challenge.
“Race?” March offers.
“Race.”
Without another thought they take off, sprinting down the hallway. Curse those stupid heels… Stelle almost trips. How does March go so fast in them?
Triumphantly March slams her hand on the doorframe. “You owe me 100 credits!”
“No way,” Stelle insists, breathing heavily. “We never put money on it!”
“Please?” She begs, and suddenly Stelle’s transferring credits to March.
The pink-haired girl flops down onto her bed, toeing off her boots. “Man, now I’m not sleepy anymore. Shoulda thought about that.”
Stelle falls into the bed too, having left her boots at the door. “Mm. Although, I wasn’t really tired in the first place.”
“Oh, well. It’s worth it to beat you!”
Stelle punches her arm lightly, and the two laugh— quietly, though; Dan Heng tends to get grumpy during their nightly pre-sleep gossip sessions. “Well, now I’ve gotta break even.”
“Oh yeah? Up for another race?”
“Nah, nah…” she stares at the ceiling. “Up for a game of blackjack?”
March jumps up— Stelle’s taking that as a yes. March pulls the pack out of her desk drawer, and tosses it on to the bed. “You can deal. Just be fair, alright?~”
“Like I wouldn’t. I’m a winner, not a cheater.”
“You hid all of your cards in Dos just so you could get down to two cards!”
“And?” Stelle looks up, placing the final card down. “I read the handbook. Doesn’t say anything about it.”
Despite March’s protest, the game begins…
And it drags on, and on, and on; changing from one game to the next to the next, until the two are so drunk on laughter (and completely delirious) that they can’t even keep a poker face.
“Okay, okay—” March slaps her cards down onto the blanket. “You win!”
“Told you I would,” Stelle smiles, leaning back onto one of March’s decorative pillows. “You dared to dance with the devil, and you got your due desserts.”
March snorts, collapsing next to Stelle in the bed. At some point, they had both changed into a more comfortable lounge outfit— March in her cute pajama set, and Stelle in Himeko’s old mismatched exercise clothes. They erupt into laughter again, and for some reason, Stelle is thankful for the headache she was getting from all the laughing.
“It’s so much fun to compete against you,” March says, her voice quiet. “But can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“I really admire you, you know? You’re just good at all sorts of things. That’s what I like about you.”
Stelle smiles again. “I agree. As fun as it is to win against you in every card game ever invented, I like your company more.“ She pulls March into a hug, seemingly surprising her. “I’ve never been more thankful for someone.”
March swats at her, and as she pulls away Stelle notices that her face is red. “Ahh, stop with that! You’re making me blush!”
“I think you look even cuter when you blush,” she states, before she can even realize what she was saying. Well… guess it’s time to play along.
“Stelle!” She buries her bright red face in her hands. “Ugh… you— you— waugh!”
“Speechless?” She smiles, raising a brow.
“Hmph!” March turns toward the wall, crossing her arms. “I’m not talking to you anymore! Good night!”
“Ah, don’t be like that.” Stelle tugs on her sleeve, attempting to get her to roll over, and yet March stays where she is. “But I’m still not tired, Marchie…~”
March whips around so fast that her hair strikes Stelle in the face. “Augh! Fine— I’ll play something with you one more time, if it keeps you from calling me that. But once I win I’m kicking your butt back onto the floor!”
“Who said you’re winning?” Stelle hums, tapping the tip of March’s nose. “I haven’t even told you what game we’re playing yet.”
“Doesn’t matter, I’m still gonna win.”
“Oh, yeah?” She sits up now. “We’re playing Chicken. We both move our faces towards each other, until one of us pulls away.”
“And what if neither of us pull away?” March seems less annoyed now, and more… excited? Something Stelle can’t really place.
“Well, then I hope you’re fine with getting kissed.”
Determined (but looking… nervous), March clenches a fist and nods. “I’m totally gonna win this.”
“Like hell you will. I’m the Chicken Champion.”
“Well, prepare to be dethroned!” March beams. “Ready?”
“If you are.”
“3, 2, 1… go.”
For some reason, Stelle’s heart beats so aggressively in her chest that she’s worried it’ll explode. Must be the Stellaron, or something, she reasons. There’s no time to think now. This is the wondrous game of Chicken. March’s face is getting closer and closer, and her eyes drift closed…
Maybe she should have chickened out after all. As March’s lips meet hers, an overwhelming surge of emotions floods over her.
It’s a soft kiss, with their lips barely touching. But god, it was phenomenal. She rests one hand on March’s face, and the other on her shoulder. When they finally break apart, they’re both breathless.
“…I win,” Stelle whispers, to her and only to her.
“I demand a rematch.” March’s giggle is barely contained, but it means the world to Stelle.
“If you say so.”
She leans in again, this time with confidence and passion. Somehow, March’s arms loop around the back of her neck. From the shoulder to the waist, Stelle’s hand drifts down further. She pulls her forward as she leans back into the pillows, making March let out a little whoop of surprise before giggling into the kiss and adjusting herself on top of Stelle. Slim fingers, an archer’s fingers, find strands of gray-brown hair, and suddenly they’re tangled together. A constellation of sorts, and it’s beautiful.
March pulls back, her breath making Stelle’s eyelashes flutter. “I think we both win.” One more kiss, soft and quick. “You?”
“Agree.”
There’s something missing, something needing to be verbalized. I love you. Yes, that’s it. Three words that carry so much meaning. Am I really bold enough to say that?
Before Stelle can think any further, March slips out of the embrace and rolls over onto the other side of the bed. “Um… don’t worry about sleeping on the floor. Your back probably hurts, right? Ahaha…”
Thank you. I love you. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Silence. March slides under the fuzzy comforter, resting her head on the pillow. Her eyes, bright as the reflections that bounce off glass in the light, look up at Stelle, full of some kind of emotion that she can’t place…
“…I think I like playing Chicken with you,” she mutters, closing her eyes and smiling. “Can we play again tomorrow?”
“We can play whenever you want to,” Stelle answers, reaching over to tuck a stray piece of pink hair from March’s face. Even now, in the few moments before sleep, she looks so peaceful. “Anytime.” Because I love you.
“Yeah. I’d like that.” She yawns. “Will you… play with anybody else?”
“I don’t want to.” Just you. Only you.
“Mm… I don’t want to, either…” as if put under a spell, March falls asleep. It must be some sort of super power, Stelle reasons; because she’s never seen anybody fall asleep as fast as March does. Within a minute, her breaths are steady. She’s fast asleep.
Stelle reaches over and turns off the light. Pressing a kiss to March’s forehead, she whispers, “I love you, March 7th,” and pulls the covers over her legs.
For some reason, the early-riser March 7th isn’t chugging juice in the parlor car this morning. Stelle’s not here, either. Himeko swirls her coffee around, staring into it. Did they sleep in? It’s uncharacteristic, but possible…
“Worried about the slackers?” Welt asks, looking up from his own breakfast. “You’re doing the thing with your drink.”
“No,” Himeko lies. “Really. It’s fine. They probably just slept in.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps they’re making plans to sneak out,” he ponders aloud. “Maybe even mutiny.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, looking away from Welt. “They’re supposed to be on clean up duty this morning, and I’m worried that they won’t have time to eat something before they have to get to work.”
“You should go check on them, Himeko.” Welt takes a sip of his own coffee. “You’re right, it’s uncharacteristic. At least we can trust that Dan Heng got up and got his breakfast and is working now. But them? …Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your coffee stays put.”
“Ah, thank you, Welt,” she sighs. “I’m sorry for being such a worrywart.”
“No need. Better you find them than Pom-Pom, I say. Who knows what they would do to those two?”
“…You’re right.” The thought itself was… too much. “I’ll be right back.”
The early-morning mind fog consumes Himeko’s mind as she strides down the hallway, and she preps herself for the needed business for today— research, mapping… Her list doesn’t get very long. She reaches March’s door and knocks on it thrice. When it goes unanswered, she takes to calling for them.
“March? Stelle? Are you two awake?” Again, no reply. “Seriously, now. If you’re pulling a prank, I will show no mercy.”
Himeko hates to intrude into the other crew members’ rooms, especially the younger two. She remembers being their age and wanting nothing more than privacy, a safe space to themselves. But after a certain amount of time, desperate measures must be taken. She pulls out her master key and unlocks the door.
“You two really—” Something about the scene is different than usual. Stelle’s cot is still perfectly made and not slept in on the floor, and instead of one blanketed bundle on March’s bed, there’s now two. The comforter has all but slipped off the bed and onto the floor, showing the outline of intertwined limbs under the soft, lighter blanket. Above all, Himeko notes that Stelle is cradling March’s head to her chest. They’re still fast asleep… and completely entangled with each other.
With a small smile, she closes the door again.
When she arrives back in the parlor car, Welt notices a certain lack of the mischevious bundle of energy and sparkles, and the raccoon that was turned into a human. “No dice? Hm. Perhaps they did escape.”
“Oh, no. They’re in there. They’re still asleep.”
“Really?” He interlocks his fingers, resting his chin on them. “Why did you not drag them out here?”
Himeko titters, taking a sip of her coffee. “I’m sure you’ll hear plenty of it when they wake up.”
Welt still seems confused, but he doesn’t say another word. As the esteemed conductor of the Astral Express, Pom-Pom, toddles by, pushing the breakfast cart towards the cabins, Himeko stops them.
“Ah, Pom-Pom. Please excuse Stelle and March from their clean up duty this morning. They’re resting, as they’re not feeling well. I’ll take it for them.”
The conductor’s eyes narrow. “You’re sure? Pom-Pom knows that nothing stops March from getting her juice. I even made a special batch just for her this morning!”
“If you don’t believe me, you can look for yourself.” Himeko loads her and Welt’s plates into the cart’s disposal slot. “Although I’m sure they’d appreciate it if you left some breakfast for them on their table.”
With a suspicious huff, Pom-Pom pushes the cart away towards the cabins.
“What on earth could be wrong, then, for March to not come out here demanding a cup full of juice?” Welt asks. “Is it serious?”
“No, no. It’s just what I expected.”
“Which was…?”
Himeko smiles, glancing out at the stars, taking another sip of her coffee. “She’s lovesick. And it looks like she might have found a cure.”