Work Text:
Take a break.
The very moment Himeko had called everyone together to declare the upcoming plans for the week and said that, Stelle felt for the first time in her short, conscious life a general release of tension in all the muscles of her body. March had cheered beside her, her prismatic eyes glittering in the lights of the Astral Express, and scurried off to her room while excitedly muttering her intentions to take many pictures.
At first, Stelle wandered about the Express, urging the sudden sleepiness that tugged on her eyelids to go away. She messed with the music drifting softly throughout the train, a quiet snort escaping her when she heard a crash in someone’s room in reaction to the electric guitar now filtering throughout the Express. She was even tempted to try a sip of Himeko’s coffee, before she recalled Dan Heng’s warning. Doesn’t he use this to knock himself out, she thought, frowning.
Dan Heng…Where did he decide to spend his vacation? Stelle had captured a glimpse of his back as he left for the car with their rooms. Perhaps…the archive?
She yawned, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she trudged along sleepily in that direction. Before she even knocked on the door, she heard a muffled call from beyond it. “Come in.”
Stelle blinked, letting out a huff of amusement, her lips curling up with fondness.
Dan Heng was seated comfortably on his bed, a futon-type arrangement that was simple yet incredibly cozy. In his hand was a sleek tablet, the screen set to a warmth lighting that Stelle remembered had something to do with improving sleep. As soon as she walked around and stopped right in front of him, he glanced up at her briefly, his eyes flashing in recognition. “Hello, Stelle,” he said. “Do you need something?” His voice was soft, pleasant, resting gently against her ears and easing the tension that pinched at her neck.
Without another thought, she tucked her hair behind her ears (it fell back in her face anyway), and inhaled. “I just wondered if you wanted to…I don’t know, hang out.” Silence stretched into the space between them, prompting Stelle to begin wringing her hands. “It doesn’t have to be anything crazy. We could just chill in here.” When he still didn’t say anything, she became laser-focused on the strange shapes she could see on the floor. “Or if you don’t want to, I can leave, it’s no—”
“Of course.” Dan Heng shifted a bit to the side, patting the space beside him and going back to his tablet. “There’s enough room here for the both of us.”
It was peculiar, really, how things you read can show up immediately after you learned about it. In fact, just the other day, Stelle finished watching a historical drama in which many words she was ignorant to before were used, and she witnessed them again while perusing the archives Dan Heng diligently put together.
Just last week she read an archive entry in which exothermic and endothermic reactions were described in so much detail, Stelle’s eyes felt heavy just from reading the abstract of the paper. There was something adventurous about attempting to gain knowledge without regard for whether it’ll be of use to you.
When she explained this concept to him, Dan Heng suggested more topics that would interest her. He was right, of course. He was really good at reading her.
Slowly, she made her way through that extensive list, some entries going by faster than others. Her thumb started to throb from scrolling, her neck aching from craning down and with a sigh she dropped her phone beside her and fell back against the bed in defeat.
“Riveting?” Beside her, Dan Heng’s voice parted the drapes that shrouded her mind.
Stelle pouted, glaring at his face even if he was too focused on his own reading. He was leaning against the wall, his legs bent to accommodate his tablet. When she didn’t respond, green eyes focused on her.
She closed her eyes immediately, her heart thudding slightly faster than normal. Aeons, his stare is so intense. Even if he wasn’t in his vidyadhara form, Stelle swore his eyes retained a draconic nature that pierced through her very soul.
“What were you reading about?” Dan Heng adjusted his position, his legs straightening around her own folded ones.
She was too afraid to move. What would happen if she touched him? She was certain she’d lose her sanity. “It was an op-ed about transformations.”
He said nothing, as if he knew she had more to say. Of course, he knew.
“Well, transformations in different aspects of life,” Stelle continued. “Something about how change is sometimes sudden and frightening, but you should embrace it anyway.”
“That sounds just like you,” Dan Heng said. “Do you not agree?”
“No, I do. It’s just…it makes me wonder what kind of decisions I made before.” Stelle paused, waiting for questions that never came. She pursed her lips, meeting Dan Heng’s worried gaze. “And then I start thinking about all that.”
All that. The memories that were gone, the knowledge of people that no longer existed in her mind. She covered her eyes with her palm, his steady look nearly burning holes through her hand. “I always get tired thinking about it,” Stelle mumbled.
“It’s understandable,” he finally said, his words soft once again. “I feel similarly about my own past. It’s difficult to piece together parts of yourself that are no longer there.”
“Do you think,” Stelle said quietly, “if my memories were intact and I wasn’t there when the Express found me, we would’ve still been friends?”
If it was anyone else, the immediate silence would’ve been alarming. But with Dan Heng, it was a reassurance. He was examining her question in close detail, running through every possible path so he could give her the complete and honest answer. Such a trait was one Stelle couldn’t help but admire. She only wished she could look in on his thoughts, too.
He cleared his throat, his tablet clacking against the floor. “Pardon me,” he murmured. Before Stelle could say anything else, his body shifted. When she opened her eyes, her breath caught in her chest, a splutter escaping her lips.
His inkblot hair fell over like a delicate spill of feathers, right over his eyes that pulsed a deep emerald. Dan Heng, with his arms on either side of her, looked down at her only for a moment, but to Stelle, it was enough. Slowly, she lifted a hand, pressing her palm against his cheek that flushed with warmth. “Dan Heng,” she started.
“Pardon my forwardness,” he interrupted, “but, I think such a ridiculous question warranted a ridiculous response.”
Stelle couldn’t control the smile that flowered from her lips, couldn’t prevent the bark of laughter. “Am I rubbing off on you that much, Cold Dragon Young?”
“Perhaps.” A pause. “Please don’t call me that.” To the tune of Stelle’s giggles, Dan Heng pulled away to sit back on his knees. His expression was adorable, a combination of relieved and miffed that Stelle couldn’t help but reward with a pinch of the cheek. “Hey! Please don’t.”
“Sorry, you’re just so cute,” Stelle said, smiling.
Dan Heng sighed. “Anyway, my point was that such a hypothetical is meaningless. Especially because it causes you stress.” He leaned over, his fingertips dancing delicately over Stelle’s forehead, brushing aside her bangs. “Besides, the present is the most important.”
At his words, Stelle sat up. Alarm hardly registered on his face, quickly shifting into curiosity as she cocked her head to one side then the other. She did this for a while, long enough for Dan Heng to clear his throat. “Is something wrong?”
Stelle lifted a finger to her lips in thought, her eyes squinting. “I thought there was, but nope. You’re still my Dan Heng.”
“Your…Dan Heng,” he repeated slowly, as if unfamiliar with the words entirely.
“Yep.” Stelle poked his nose, grinning. “The present Dan Heng is my Dan Heng. Everything you do, you learned from me, and that could only exist in the timeline where we met.”
“…Right.” Dan Heng was clearly unimpressed, but he chuckled regardless. “Stelle, are you hungry?”
“Probably. You?”
“Let’s grab some food.”
As they left the confines of the archive room, Stelle’s ears perked up. Dan Heng was muttering underneath his breath, his dark brows knitting together in mental anguish. When she leaned closer, she heard him. In a small whisper, he repeated, “‘My Dan Heng.’”