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“Dan Heng,” you say. “The beach.”
It’s simple enough. Just a statement, with an underlying pleading tone as you stand in front of him. There’s a good gap between you both. A safety buffer. An airbag of comfort as you shift your weight from side to side and shuffle your feet. March is somewhere behind you, shoving miscellaneous beach items in an oversized tote bag and humming to herself, unaware of the staredown you’re having with Dan Heng.
It’s a very one-sided staredown. You’re trying to dig into his soul through his corneas and he’s looking in every direction except yours. You sigh. Obviously, you have some very one-sided feelings between you both, as well.
“I have work,” he finally says. “I need to organize the archives.” Which is probably a lie. Sure, you barely know how the archives work or where everything comes from, but you really doubt that whatever new entries Dan Heng has are so urgent that he can’t go to the beach with you and March.
It’s always like this. Excuse and excuse. You know you should stop trying by now.
You like Dan Heng, you really do. And he at least tolerates you, but it’s that one bit of decency that makes you cling onto some imaginary hope that maybe he’ll like you as much as you like him. It’s really not a fun mix of things. Sometimes you wish he’d just deny you outright so that you wouldn’t keep clinging onto your wishful thinking, over and over and over.
Aside from that, the beach—the beach is a special thing. March told you it’s been a while since they’ve seen a beach through their journeys on the Astral Express, and so passing through this planet for something-or-other and seeing an open shore was a pleasant surprise. It’s no kidding that you all jumped at the chance to take a trip and relax in the sand. Even Welt was easy to convince.
Dan Heng. Oh, Dan Heng. What an enigma to you. You snap back to awareness and remind yourself where you are right now. Standing in front of this unnervingly quiet man and waiting for him to have a change of heart. It won’t happen. But you stand for a few extra seconds, waiting. Waiting. Shifting your feet. Waiting.
You feel a hand close around yours and turn your head to see March. She has her overstuffed tote bag slung over her shoulder, a camera looped around her neck, and a sorry glimmer in her eyes. You return it, and soften from the almost defensive stance you had taken against Dan Heng. She looks into you for a moment, the way you tried looking into Dan Heng, before she turns to face the aforementioned man.
“Well, if you’re gonna be so lame—then take care of the Express while we’re gone! We’re heading out now,” she quips, and her fingers lock into yours. There’s a frigidity to them, something that would normally be disturbing but right now it serves to cool you down from the heat pouring into the Express through the open doors as Himeko and Welt beckon you to hurry up. “Bye, Dan Heng!”
“Goodbye,” you hear quietly behind you, and you don’t bother saying bye to him because March already said it—and, yeah, maybe because you’re still bitter, too. It’s the beach. Who doesn’t want to go to a beach after living on an intergalactic train for months?!
Well, whatever. The squeeze of March’s hand around yours grounds you and eases the tense look on your face. She lets out a heavy sigh through her nose and glances at you through the corner of her eye.
She knows. She has to know, but you’re fairly certain you’d explode if she ever mentioned it.
Despite her somewhat silly demeanor, March is more emotionally intelligent than she first lets on. Really, within the first week of living on the Express, you realized how wrong your first impression of her was. She’s smart—overwhelmingly so. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s already well-aware of what your feelings towards Dan Heng are.
You feel ridiculous the further you walk with March. There’s a stirring in your chest that’s something parallel to heartache, but not quite. Something like embarrassment. You’re being childish. The Express was kind enough to give you a home with them and you can’t let that be ruined by some awkward feelings. By a crush. That would be so embarrassing.
Before you know it, you’re at the shore, and March’s fingers are still trapped between yours. You can’t seem to mind it. Himeko and Welt are a ways ahead of you, shoes loosely hanging from their hands as they walk through the sand barefoot and go towards the water. Welt is shouldering a large beach umbrella and Himeko has a bag of large towels, so you’re sure they’ll be fine setting up a spot to sit in while you and March hang back for a minute.
As you both trail along the sand in your open flip flops (yours a dark gray purchased from one of the shops in the urban part of town, and hers a bright pink from her own dusty collection), March turns to look at you one more time before opening her mouth.
“He’s not… He doesn’t mean to be so closed off,” she tells you earnestly. “Dan Heng, I mean. If he comes off as mean, he doesn’t mean it.”
“I know,” you say. And you really do know. “I’m not upset or anything. I think I was just… hoping. I always hope, with him.”
And it’s too honest. You’re being too honest, and it’s not that you distrust March with all the soft, tender, icky adoration in your heart, but it’s getting painful to say all these things. You want to just let it simmer out like any schoolkid crush, and you can’t do that if you keep talking about it—whether it’s to yourself or to March.
You clear your throat. It’s beach day. You’re not gonna be upset during beach day.
“Hey…” you start again, an amused tone creeping up your voice. “Do you even know how to swim?” A side glance at her confirms the growing blush along her neck—one that’s certainly not caused by the sun rays beaming down on the both of you.
“Well… I think being trapped in ice is like, basically swimming. I probably adapted to it or something.”
“That’s totally not how it works.”
“Says who!” March makes a disgruntled face, rolling her eyes and letting out a big groan. It’s endearing. She’s endearing.
Eventually, you both catch up with Welt and Himeko, and they’ve already set up the towels neatly and planted the umbrella between them. Himeko brought her own beach chair to lay on and you can’t help but be jealous as you shimmy onto a towel to perch yourself perfectly underneath the shade of the umbrella. March follows suit, laying beside you with half her body in the sun and the rest under the shade.
“You’re gonna get a sick tan line if you lay down like that, you know.”
“I’m not staying here forever! Just waiting for your slow butt to get in the water.”
Your cheeks pull up as you smile at her. Endearing endearing endearing. The stirring in your chest comes back but it’s much different this time. You try not to think too hard about it.
You sit up and hit her shoulder with your hand lightly. “Awe, you just love me soooo much that you’re willing to wait like that? So sweet!” Your voice takes on a lighthearted mocking tone as you tilt your head at her. “Then, let’s go. I won’t make you wait anymore. I know how impatient you get.
She follows you as you stand up and head over to the water. The air gets cooler the closer you get and the smell of salt starts to permeate your senses. “I’m not that impatient! Only about the important things.”
The important things. You think for a moment, and then will yourself to stop.
Your feet touch cold water and you look down to see yours and March’s feet submerged in the blue-green waves of the ocean. A big sigh reverberates through your chest as you feel the tension leave your body. March’s toenails are painted a light blue and pink to match her nails. Cute. You suddenly feel inadequate with your very unpainted nails. Maybe you should ask her to paint them for you when you get back.
It’s hot. So hot. You’d put on sunscreen before leaving the Express but you’re starting to think the sun has melted it off already. A rustle sounds from next to you, and it takes you a minute to even process the noise before you hear the sound of a camera shutter going off and suddenly your head snaps to face March and her stupid, mischievous grin and the sound of laughter bubbling in her chest.
“You did not!”
“Yes I did!”
“March! No way, delete that! I didn't know you were taking a picture!”
You lunge to take the camera away from her, which is a fruitless effort considering it’s still looped around her neck by the strap and she’s much too agile to get caught in your attempts to take it away from her. She lets out an evil laugh and you consider drowning her in the water and telling Welt and Himeko she disappeared in the ocean.
“That’s the point,” she says incredulously, “it’s called a candid, you know.”
“Candid-my-ass! There’s still sunscreen all over my face, I didn't blend it out right, delete that picture! I probably look pasty, oh my god March—”
“No way!” And now she’s looking down at the screen of the camera, probably looking at the horrific picture she just took of you—but she’s smiling. And not in her silly scheming kind of way. She’s smiling and she’s soft and the corners of her eyes crinkle and she’s avoiding looking at you in front of her, but her eyes are locked on you in her camera.
“It looks nice. You really look nice.” She looks up at you, now, finally, and you look at her and you can’t look anywhere else. “I mean it.”
With purpose. There is a purpose in her voice and in her eyes, and she’s looking into you again. You’re trying to close yourself away from her, but you can’t. Not when she’s like this. When she’s opening herself up in the way she looks at you—you can’t just avoid that.
So you soften. Your shoulders droop in a mix of contentment and purpose and you are suddenly lost. You’re suddenly back to being woken up by a maroon-haired woman and wondering where you’ll go, wondering what it’s all for, wondering who you are. The feeling repeats in your lungs over and over and you take a breath.
March says, “Hey,” with a tender smile that’s unlike anything you’ve seen before. You say, “Hey,” and your voice breaks at the end as you struggle to choke it out. She’s close. You didn't notice her feet shuffling closer to you and the depleting space between the both of you.
“Hey.”
And. The voice isn’t March’s. It’s not yours either, you’re sure of that. You turn to the side, and— It’s Dan Heng. In a ridiculous bright floral unbuttoned shirt and cargo shorts, both of which you’re sure are new items because there’s no way he’s owned those before.
It registers in your head after a moment. Dan Heng is at the beach. He’s at the beach, in front of you, in a newly bought summer outfit and the remnants of sunscreen on the tips of his ears.
“Dan Heng.” Now it’s March, and her voice is slightly strained and the flush on her neck has already crawled up to her ears. She backs up from you, and you’re warm now—in a bad way. In the worst way possible. Her hand has unlinked from yours a while ago and your stomach feels empty.
“Hi,” Dan Heng says again, oblivious to you and March’s internal discords. “Sorry. I finished updating the archives early and thought I would join you both. I had to buy new clothes.”
“I see that,” you smile, giving his outfit another once-over with a teasing tone. “The whole neon-florals thing is really going for you.”
A tint of amusement colors his eyes and his mouth twitches with it, too. “This wasn’t exactly my first choice of an outfit. I’m good at adapting to my environment, though.”
March has gone awfully quiet beside you and you resist the urge to reach out. To touch her palm to yours and lock your fingers together again. You don't know what’s happening to you, and you really really don’t want to think about it anymore. It’s beach day. Stop it.
“Sure you are,” you say with sarcasm, and that’s enough to get a hint of a laugh out of March and suddenly you’re easing up again and your limbs are loose. “March just took an awful photo of me, so I think I might jump her. Are you in, or what?”
“Wh— Hey!” The girl exclaims in protest, suddenly clutching onto her camera for dear life as she backs away from you with a mock-horrified look in her eyes. “You didn't say you were jumping me! I didn't do anything wrong! I’m totally innocent!”
Loose. You’re loose, and your hands are loose and your smile is tinting your face in warmth and when you jokingly step closer and lunge at March, you’re cooling down again. It’s a mix of sensations and you’re dizzy from the heat and from goofing around with March and from Dan Heng’s eyes trailing yours. Loose.
“You’re totally not .”
“Dan Heng!” She looks to him for defense, and finds none. “Seriously! Back me up, here.”
He does not. His expression is doused in mirth in his own subtle way and you feel yourself starting to smile—with teeth. You clamp your mouth shut.
“I don’t know, March… You’re not making a good case for yourself.”
“Jerk!”
And you push March around and laugh in her face and feel the cold of her skin brush against yours as you chase each other along the shoreline, Dan Heng following close behind you and letting out short laughs as he watches you both. You lunge at March and run across the water with her and the ocean is cold, almost frigid, and the beating of the sun heats up your blood and you use that as the excuse for why your forehead is so warm when March brushes her fingers against your face.
Excuses and excuses. It’s always that way with you, isn’t it.