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Yi Sang sees from the corner of his peripheral vision his fellow seatmate looking a down trodden. Her golden eyes that usually sparkles with so much life and excitement now dulled with flashes of memories of yesteryears pasts.
Yi Sang strains his ears as he hears Don Quixote sigh for what seems to be the 7th time of the day. He looks around and sees Rodion poking her manicured nail onto Gregor's cheek then sees Heathcliff and Ishmael squabbling for the 5th time for today with Hong Lu as a mediator (if the mediator is angering the parties). He tries not to slump seeing Don Quixote's impassive look in her eyes as she continues to stare at the window.
He meets the golden eyes of his other seatmate and fellow, Emil Sinclair... who has been trying to get his attention apparently given how he looks even more anxious than usual. Maybe after making Don Quixote's eyes sparkle, he must teach Sinclair with breathing exercises to try and alleviate his anxiety.
"Sinclair." Yi Sang murmurs as he sees Sinclair fidgeting in front of him, his eyes shifting from him to Don Quixote and back to him. "Is something amiss?"
"Um," Sinclair starts off and Yi Sang watches how the young man's fidgeting becomes worse. "I... I need your help with something." Sinclair mumbles out, his eyes anywhere but him.
Yi Sang follows his gaze and lands on Don Quixote, who is still not paying attention to anything but out the window. It seems he wasn't being subtle in his stare given how he hears Sinclair sputtering. "Y-Yi Sang!"
"Apologies." And Yi Sang is sincere about it, his gaze going back to Sinclair, the young man's fidgeting coming to a stop and a heavy frown on his face. "Is the help pertaining to Miss Don Quixote's disheartened mood?"
Sinclair turns red that Yi Sang almost worries if his nose would start bleeding from the rush of blood appearing. "Well," Sinclair starts off, the fidgeting coming back full force and Yi Sang’s eyebrows raise at the action. “You’re not…” Yi Sang patiently waits for Sinclair to continue, despite having an inkling on what the young man wants to say. “Yes.” Sinclair sighs, his shoulders sagging in defeat and Yi Sang mentally pats himself on the back. “I want to cheer her up.”
Yi Sang can’t fight the smile appearing on his face, and before he knows it, his hand is on Sinclair’s head and gently ruffling his hair. “A fellow of mine is too kind.” He says, holding back a chuckle when Sinclair looks like he’s about to start protesting about his hair. “Pray tell, what is on one’s mind to cheer Miss Don Quixote?”
Yi Sang watches Sinclair ponder for a moment, his golden eyes drifting to the other fellows of this quaint little bus. “Would a game of chess help?” Sinclair murmurs to himself, beginning to pace around a little. “But she would have that look in her eye again and I don’t want that…”
“Ah, yes…” Yi Sang closes his eyes, imagining such predicament of Don Quixote’s eyes dimming a bit that leaves him shivering. “Let us avoid that from happening, lest we are to see Miss Don Quixote’s eyes as cold as ice like…” He trails off, slowly opening his eyes and frowns when he notices Sinclair fidgeting his fingers to the point he might have made holes in his gloves. “How about making a meal to soothe one’s soul?”
Sinclair looks at Yi Sang incredulous.
Yi Sang blinks, the realization settling in his face. “Let us not have you make a meal. Unless such tidal waves come once we step foot into the battlefield of a kitchen, and you come out like a storm.”
Sinclair sighs in response, much deeper than usual that Yi Sang wonders if he should actually give the young man breathing exercises. “Back to the drawing board it seems.” He places a gloved hand under his chin and worrying his lip that Yi Sang almost worries that it might bleed, yet, knowing Sinclair as a fellow seatmate, that might be the intention.
“Sinclair,” He mutters that his voice almost gets drowned out by the mutterings and chattering of the bus if Sinclair doesn’t strain his ears hard enough. “How about you act as you are?”
“But–”
“Let this one finish,” Yi Sang smiles, his hand back to ruffling Sinclair’s hair. “If you are to sought out the sight of Miss Don Quixote shine once more. One must initiate to begin the conversation.” He simply says, lowering his hand back to his side once more, smiling when Sinclair looks at him, a sparkle of realization in his eye. "I see my companion has reached an understanding?”
“Yes,” Sinclair nods, a small yet determined smile painted on his lips. “Thanks, Yi Sang… I… I needed that.”
Yi Sang gives a small smile in response.
—
“Sir Yi Sang!” He hears a passionate call of his name after a rather rough battle against the Drifting Fox. He wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth and turns to see Don Quixote, her golden eyes has once again, showing a spark of life that he breathes a sigh of relief upon seeing it. “I beseech thee… a request!” She proudly says, a hand on her hip and her spear clenched tightly in the other. “If thou please?”
Yi Sang softly smiles at her, shuffling his way next to her and began walking, internally thankful that Don Quixote matched her pace with his. “Is something ailing your mind, Miss Don Quixote?”
“Art we not comrade-in-arms, Sir Yi Sang?” She says with a cheeky grin. “Thou needst not keep addressing me as ‘miss’!” She then drags him out of the bloody battlefield and back to the bus, uncaring that Yi Sang has stumbled a couple of times.
“Ah, M-” Yi Sang coughs behind his free hand, almost faceplanting on a stray dagger if it weren’t for Don Quixote tightly gripping on his wrist. “Don Quixote, I must request for you to slow down, lest I may have gone to the stars and let Dante open my eyes once more…”
“Ah!” Don Quixote stops in her tracks, dropping his wrist and watches him stumble. “Apologies, Yi Sang! Thine… habit is hard to break.” She explains, her cheeks pink in embarrassment that Yi Sang can’t help but pat her on the head, smiling at hearing her squeak. “Yi Sang…!” She whines. “This must be that of You- ahem- Sinclair hath oft complaining…”
Don Quixote then twiddles her thumbs together, uncharacteristically shy that Yi Sang wonders what if something worse might have happened once Sinclair have gathered the courage he had hidden to talk with her. Surely, it must not have been that bad… he had seen both Don Quixote and Sinclair talking amicably amongst themselves before going to the Mirror Dungeon.
Yi Sang sees Don Quixote turn red, covering the lower half of her face with her free hand, and he can see her legs shaking, almost as if she’s thinking of running away. How peculiar… from what he remembered, Don Quixote has never once- ah.
The realization hits. Right, Don Quixote is still Don Quixote, but with quirks that he has to re-learn once again.
“No need to fret, Don Quixote.” Yi Sang tries to comfort her, but the shaking on her legs intensifies and he worries if possession came in the company and let Sinclair possess Don Quixote. “…I will do nothing but to lend a helping hand to my fellows who are faced with a challenge.”
“Yi Sang…!” Don Quixote’s shaking has come to a halt, her eyes watery with unshed tears. “Thou art of a noble soul!”
Before Yi Sang can respond with anything else, Don Quixote lets out a dramatic cough behind her fist, standing up upright and looking at him straight in the eye to the point he almost feels unnerved by it. He opens his mouth to respond until Don Quixote beats him to it.
“Does thou know how to give gratitude to Sinclair?”
“Huh?”
Apparently his immediate response doesn’t go well, given how Don Quixote turns red to the tip of her ears, hands waving in the air. “T-Think no more of it!” She sputters out. “Prithee, thou must forget what has been said!”
“Don Quixote.” Yi Sang says in a firm tone, afraid that she would run away and leave him to the dust. “I am simply curious as to why you want to thank Sinclair.”
Don Quixote, still red on the face, shyly looking at Yi Sang, her hands clenched tightly to her chest. “I…” Her voice squeaks, then immediately dies out. “Should I truly speak of it?” Her voice breaks and Yi Sang can hear the remnants of what he once heard back in the bloody amusement park.
Yi Sang only blinks in response, utterly lost on what else to do to aid Don Quixote of her dilemma. “Take…” he looks at her in worry. “Take your time, Don Quixote.”
Don Quixote takes a deep breath, covering her face with her hand and drags it down. “Hah…” She sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “I..” She coughs before standing up straight. “I wish to extend mine gratitude to Sinclair for aiding me when I was in my lonesome.” Yi Sang sees a smile appearing on Don Quixote’s face, not one when he sees her so excited, but where he has seen far off in the distance. Of someone who talks nothing but sweet words of their… “Thy desire is to see him find joy as well.”
Yi Sang can’t help but chuckle. “I see,” he starts walking again, smiling when Don Quixote matches his pace. “It seems that my fellows are of pure minds and souls.” He slightly waves to Rodion, who shouts both of their names and waving at them with a relieved smile. “I believe that Sinclair has already found joy by being in your presence, Don Quixote.”
“Eh?”
Yi Sang doesn’t need to turn around to tell that Don Quixote has stopped in her tracks.
“Chiquita! Come on! Dante is getting worried.”
“Ah! Yes, yes. Thank you, Lady Rodya!”
—
Commercial Break:
“They seem to be pestering you more recently, huh.” Ishmael comments as soon as Sinclair walks away, and Yi Sang turns to see Ishmael looking a bit astonished. “Sinclair and… Don Quixote, I mean. I know you three sit together, but I have never seen the two of them be so...” Ishmael makes a vague gesture, and thankfully, Yi Sang understands what she is about to say.
“Ah, yes…” Yi Sang hums in thought, mind going back to yesterday when Sinclair has asked him if his hair is not messy, which is actually the usual, or just this morning, when Don Quixote had asked to switch seats with him so she could talk to Sinclair.
Now, Sinclair has asked if he could have dishwashing duty to be with Don Quixote, who is to keep all the dirty dishes once they have finished eating. “They seem to be trying to have more time spent together in earnest.”
Ismael raises an eyebrow. “You don’t seem… off about that?”
Yi Sang shakes his head. “Sinclair’s dishwashing duty is with Miss Faust, and talking to Miss Faust is as refreshing as morning dew when the sun’s rays stretches to the horizon…” he smiles with a nod, anticipating talking to the genius lady once more. “So, I found no disturbance when Sinclair has asked to switch duties with me.”
Ishmael looks at him, nose scrunched up in disgust as if she smelt something incredibly foul. “Why do I even bother?” She shakes her head with a sigh and turns. “Thanks for answering, Yi Sang.”
She leaves Yi Sang dumbfounded.
“Oi, Yi Sang!” Yi Sang hears Heathcliff call out and turns to see the tall man grimacing as soap bubbles hit his clothes. “Stop standing there and help me in cleaning this damn bus!”
—
“Do you think Quixote would like this?” Yi Sang raises a brow at the drop of the title, but settles for leaning in when Sinclair shows him what seems to be a journal with a matching pen. “She has been telling me that her notebook is getting filled more than she thought, so I wondered if she would like it.”
Yi Sang tries not to hide a smile, remembering all the comments his other fellows have said pertaining about him and Don Quixote.
(”Anything juicy that happened recently?” Rodion leans in close to him, Gregor and Hong Lu trailing behind, the former trying to look uninterested and the latter smiling as always. “Specifically about the kiddo and Chiquita.”
“Faust has predicted this outcome sooner than later.” Faust comments one time, passing a soapy dish to him. “It would mean that there will be more efficiency amongst the two, more so on Sinclair.”
Ryoshu puffs out a breathe of smoke in amusement and smirks. “T.W.G.I.” She says with a laugh, leaving Outis fuming and Meursault who is as passive as ever... like a rock.
“At least this will get people entertained.” Ishmael sighs, but she can’t fight off the small smile creeping on her face.
Heathcliff only watches the two from the distance, before sighing to himself and going in the bus. How odd of him to be so melancholic of it.)
“I believe it is a thoughtful gift,” Yi Sang gave a supportive smile. “Don Quixote would surely be over the moon once she has received something from your heart.”
Sinclair sputters in response, cheeks turning red.
—
The bus screams, either out of excitement, pure confusion, or irritation. Yet, it was music to Yi Sang’s ears as it shows that his fellows are full of life yet again.
“Say that again, Chiquita?” Rodion smirks, hand on cheek as she looks at Don Quixote in excitement. “What did you call Sinclair?”
“You’re at that stage, huh.” Heathcliff mumbles, more astonished than melancholic and sorrowful when Yi Sang last saw him about the two. “Glad to say, it’s impressive.”
Sinclair blushes beet red. “Y-You guys…!” He tries to stand up straight but fails when Ryoshu gives a chuckle. “I-It’s not like that!”
“Sure it is~” Hong Lu hums with a closed-eye smile. “No one has ever called you that, Sinclair.”
Meursault nods and Yi Sang sees Sinclair looks at the tall man in betrayal. “Not you too, Meursault…!” Yi Sang sees the young boy turn to Outis who huffs and grumbles to herself, unable to be heard by anyone.
Yi Sang turns to look at Faust and sees her watch unfold the situation. Their eyes meet and Yi Sang clearly sees a smile on her face that he’s sure it was of amusement.
“Hong Lu got you there, kid.” Gregor huffs out a smoke, smirking and leaning on the window with his bug arm. “It was a pretty astonishing sight to see.”
And the culprit of it all? Yi Sang watches as Don Quixote blubbers, cheeks turning red and shoulders slumping in defeat. “E-Emil…” She calls out softly, causing the bus to have another round of squeals and screams. “P-Prithee… I have something to show thee…”
<Congrats you two.> Dante ticks, sounding like a proud parent that it makes both Sinclair and Don Quixote turn even redder and started shaking their hands and protesting. <The bus does seem livelier with this situation. Plus, seeing you two like that… it brings hope.> Yi Sang somehow feels that Dante stare at Heathcliff for a brief moment before staring at the two with a nod. <Just… make sure it doesn’t affect your work, alright?>
Sinclair tries to protest one last time, before sagging his shoulders in defeat and letting out a rather weak. “Yes… w-we’ll try our best.”
Don Quixote still seems to be frozen on spot, cheeks red that Sinclair sighs and drags her back to her seat, and Yi Sang stares at her in worry until looking at Sinclair who only shakes his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Ah, yes. It was nice to see him, Don Quixote, and everyone else smile after all.