Chapter Text
Despite all the enthusiasm shown as Caelus came barging into the archives earlier, a muffled snore makes itself heard from a corner of the room.
Dan Heng lifts his head from the entry he had been annotating, unsurprised to find Caelus didn't last long in his attempt to read while horizontal after a seemingly exhausting day of Heliobi hunting or some such.
He gives the log one last look over before standing, trying to convince himself that his hurry was wholly born from wanting to save some power by turning off the abandoned tablet by Caelus' side, and surely not to make sure he was comfortable...
Oh, who is he trying to fool. Sure, he does grab the tablet as he kneels onto his occupied cot, giving the displayed entry a curious glance — Long, the Permanence — before putting it to sleep and setting it aside, but his attention soon shifts to the guy taking up two-thirds of his bed.
Maybe he should be more worried about his own comfort seeing as Caelus had requisitioned his pillow, but his standards had never been high — Having a quiet, safe place to sleep under a blanket he could call his own was already more than what he had known for most of his life, and it was all the better for having company he appreciated in it.
Although appreciation may be too weak of a sentiment to express what he feels as he watches Caelus' back, each steady inhale making his ribs reach a little higher, his silhouette easy to follow in his loose white shirt, his jacket hanging from the railing ever since he had laid down to read.
Hopefully he wouldn't wake to find it weird if Dan Heng laid down besides him, Caelus' actions and words contradictory at times, starving touches and smothering words one day, distracted avoidance and dismissive jests the next — But seeing as this was his bed, Dan Heng figures he's entitled to it.
And so he does lie onto the meager remaining available bit of his mattress, listening to Caelus' breaths as he faces his back, now steadied and free of snores. It's relaxing in a way, contagious — Something to focus on rather than the whispers of memories that don't belong that always seem to echo louder in the darkness.
His own memory to make, his own mistake to be hurt by, if that's what it comes down to.
But for now, it feels right to put his hand to Caelus' back, spine at his palm, feeling it move with each breath. Warmth radiates even through his clothes, Dan Heng's fingertips pushing into his back ever slightly, as if he could reach for the sun at his core, as if he could bear a part of its weight for him.
He allows himself to follow the path set by Caelus' spine until his hand comes to rest between his shoulderblades, the periodic pulses of his heart resounding throughout his body, as if amplified, reverberating in pairs against Dan Heng's fingers.
Sounds and warmth lull him, and so does safety — Letting his hand rest against the mattress as his eyes struggle to keep the sight of Caelus' back in focus, barely a thought separating the moment he presses his forehead to Caelus' back and the one where sleep finds him.
"Dan Heng~" She knocks at the door twice, even knowing she could just barge in, her room neighbor likely lost in his reading. "You didn't show up for breakfast! You'll break Pom-Pom's heart if you let the food go cold!"
March presses her ear to the door, and without an answer, slides it open with her hip, tray of food in hand.
"Oh!" It would have been unexpected enough to find Dan Heng still asleep by now, but even more surprising is that it's Caelus' sleeping (drooling) face that she sees first, their friend taking up most of the space on the floor mattress, the only visible hint of Dan Heng from here being a tuft of black hair sighted on the body squeezed between Caelus and the bookshelf.
Oh! Well, maybe it wasn't that surprising after all.
She leaves the tray on a nearby shelf, resisting the temptation to tease them or to immortalize the scene, much more enthusiastic at the thought of letting them play this out for themselves — At least now she knew where to bring Caelus' own share of breakfast.