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It shouldn't be a surprise to see Welt awake in the middle of the night. Sunday would've known, if taking into account all the times the older man caught him wandering aimlessly in the Express while everyone was asleep.
Sunday once thought it was a coincidence with how often Welt found him in such a state, but after a few weeks, it was clear to him that he’s not the only one with trouble sleeping.
It shouldn't be an odd sight to see Welt sitting on the bay window in his own room. It is his room, and he’s allowed to do what he wants. Sunday had always feared it would break, despite how many times Welt had assured that the Express was made from the sturdiest material, that a simple action like this wouldn’t cause much damage.
Back to the present, and there’s Welt staring far into the sea of stars outside on the bay window. There was no emotion evident in his gaze, yet Sunday knew Welt was reminiscing, lost in his thoughts.
It takes an insomniac to know an insomniac.
Sunday sighed, and got out of the bed he shares with the old man. They were supposed to be asleep 2 system hours ago—Sunday remembered falling asleep in Welt’s arms, even remembering feeling Welt’s breathing steadying, which indicated they were both close to sleep.
So at what moment did Welt woke up and left the bed without him noticing? Sunday wondered.
“What’s wrong?” Welt asked the moment he noticed Sunday was approaching closer.
I would ask the same to you, is what Sunday would like to say, but from the experience of their relationship together, the Halovian is well aware how fast Welt would deflect that question if it’s anything personal. So quick to turn the attention to something or someone else. Sunday understands — he, too, wouldn’t like it if his problem became the center of attention most of the time.
So without saying anything, Sunday climbed up the bay window and sat next to Welt, leaning onto the old man. “What star formations are visible at this hour?” he asked instead, placing his head on top of Welt’s shoulder. He felt the other hummed, a hand slithering behind his back before it settled on his waist, pulling him closer. So Sunday opted to move his head onto the man’s chest and tangled their leg, practically cuddling.
“Well,” Welt started, “The star position appears to be the same as it was yesterday.”
“They haven’t moved?”
Welt shook his head. “Doesn’t seem so. However, if you look at the far corner there,” he pointed to help Sunday see, and started explaining how he noticed a subtle shift in the space.
And Sunday listened. He listened to whatever the older man had to say, like he always does. But this time, he also included his input here and there. To strike up a conversation, to keep both of their minds off the thing that had kept them awake.
They stayed like that, observing and discussing the stars for a few more minutes, before falling into silence, enjoying each other's presence for the rest of their supposed sleeping hour.