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The Astral Express sailed through the star sea with the gentle steadiness of a heartbeat, its familiar hum filling the lounge with a quiet calm. Outside, galaxies passed like drifting lanterns, soft gold and pale blue reflecting across the glass and scattering warm light onto everyone within. It was one of those rare peaceful days where nothing demanded attention. No emergency signals, no collapsing worlds, no crisis to rush toward. Just quiet. Just home.
Himeko sat with one leg crossed over the other, a steaming cup of tea resting between her hands. The subtle rose scent complimented the warm glow of her crimson hair, pinned into a rose shaped bun to one side. Welt sat close by, leaning back into the couch cushions as he read a thick book, glasses slightly lower on his nose than usual. His cane rested neatly against his leg, never far from reach.
Dan Heng occupied his usual corner seat, posture relaxed yet still impossibly straight, a datapad held lightly in one hand. Despite pretending to be entirely absorbed in his documents, his eyes flickered up every so often, quietly monitoring the room without drawing attention. It was an instinct rather than a conscious effort.
Across from him, March 7th lay upside down on the long couch with her legs against the backrest and her pink hair hanging toward the floor. She was fiddling with her camera, making little “hmph” sounds whenever a button clicked wrong.
And Caelus, as always, sat on the rug near the center of the lounge, cross legged, comfortable, and completely surrounded by items. Random bits and pieces picked from the bins, the scrapyard corner of the storage deck, and places nobody could guess. Metal fragments. Broken trinkets. A chipped Oneiric Shard pattern keychain someone probably tossed. A bent spoon.
“Caelus, I swear I just cleaned that area yesterday,” March mumbled from her upside down position, squinting at the collection forming at his feet.
Caelus looked up with his usual half smile, sheepish but amused. “It is not that messy.”
“It is messy,” she insisted, lifting her head and accidentally hitting herself in the nose with her camera. “Ow. But that is not the point.”
Himeko laughed softly behind her teacup. “Let him be, March. If it makes him happy, it makes him happy.”
“But I am curious,” March whined, flipping herself upright and scooting to the edge of the couch. She stretched her legs forward, nudging Caelus’s shoulder with her foot. “Hey. Tell me the real reason you like trash so much. I want to know.”
Caelus blinked, as if caught off guard not by the question itself, but by the way March suddenly asked it with no warning whatsoever.
“Uh. Why?” he replied weakly, trying to make his smile seem natural.
March puffed her cheeks. “Because it is weird. Really weird. So there must be a story behind it. Maybe a treasure hunting adventure, or an emotional childhood event.”
Himeko hummed thoughtfully. “You do tend to collect things others throw away.”
Welt lowered his book slightly. “And you seem to attach sentimental value to them.”
Dan Heng’s eyes finally lifted from his datapad. His voice, calm as always, carried the soft weight of careful observation.
“You do not merely like trash, Caelus. You protect it.”
Caelus tensed.
March scooted even closer, leaning forward with wide, eager eyes. “So? Tell me. Is it a hobby? A habit? A secret philosophy? A”
“It is nothing,” Caelus interrupted quickly, waving his hand. “Really. I just think trash is interesting because you can find treasure in it. Things people overlook.”
March narrowed her eyes. “That is the faintest explanation ever.”
“It is,” Dan Heng agreed quietly.
Caelus made a wounded noise. “Hey.”
March poked his cheek. “You are hiding something.”
Himeko leaned forward, elbows resting gracefully on her knees, her voice gentle.
“Caelus, sweetheart, you do not have to force yourself. If something is weighing on you, you can share it. You know that.”
The warmth in her tone softened the room instantly.
Caelus swallowed, eyes darting between them. Everyone’s attention suddenly on him, not in judgment, but in genuine concern. He looked down at the small bent gear in his hand. His thumb ran across the rusted edge.
“It is not a big deal,” he tried again, but his voice had lost its strength.
March’s expression softened. She scooted even closer, close enough that her knee touched his thigh.
“We are not teasing you,” she whispered. “We just want to understand.”
Dan Heng set his datapad aside completely, something he almost never did. The small, silent act said enough. We are with you. You are safe.
Welt gently closed his book. “Take your time.”
Caelus felt something twist in his chest. Not pain, but that vulnerable ache that came when someone cared more than you expected them to.
He stared at the items around him, the broken things, the forgotten things, the useless things someone decided were no longer worth keeping.
His voice came out quietly.
“I guess…”
Then he stopped.
March reached out and took his hand. Not forcing. Just holding. Warm and steady.
“It is okay,” she encouraged softly, her usual bubbly tone now softened into something gentler and more fragile. “You can say it.”
Caelus finally exhaled.
“I guess I like trash because I understand it.”
The room stilled instantly.
He kept his gaze on the floor.
“All these things people throw away, things they decided did not matter anymore, things they did not want.” His fingers tightened. “I guess it always felt familiar.”
March’s breath trembled.
Caelus continued, voice steady but small, much quieter than the boy who usually joked about everything.
“I did not come from anywhere. I did not have anyone. No memories, no past, no family. Just me. Dropped into this universe without purpose, without belonging.” He swallowed harshly. “Sometimes I felt like, if I disappeared, nothing would change. No one would miss something they never had.”
“Caelus,” Himeko breathed, her heart breaking at the edges of his words.
He let out a weak laugh, soft and empty.
“So yes. Maybe I like trash because it is unwanted, like I was. Or maybe because if I take something someone threw away and treat it like it matters, it makes up for the times I wished someone had done the same for me.”
March covered her mouth with both hands, eyes watery.
Dan Heng’s expression shifted. Subtle, but deep. A faint grief. Quiet understanding.
Welt stared at Caelus with the calm sadness of someone who had seen many kinds of pain.
Himeko moved first.
She set down her teacup, stood, and knelt gracefully in front of Caelus, bringing herself to eye level with him. She reached out and cupped his cheek, the gesture impossibly soft.
“Caelus,” she murmured, wiping a tear he did not realize had escaped. “You were never trash.”
Her voice, warm and gentle, wrapped around him like a hug.
“You are not unwanted,” she added. “Not now. Not anymore.”
March threw her arms around him from the side, hugging him so tightly her pink hair smothered his shoulder.
“You are not allowed to say things like that,” she cried, her voice shaking. “You are important. You are one of my favorite people. You cannot just”
Caelus froze in surprise, but slowly, very slowly, his hands rose to hug her back.
Dan Heng approached last, not one for impulsive gestures, but his presence alone felt like a blanket. He rested a hand on Caelus’s shoulder, steady and grounding.
“You belong here,” he said quietly. “You belong with us.”
Welt nodded, his tone firm with conviction.
“The Express did not just accept you. We are better because you are here.”
Caelus trembled, tears slipping down his cheeks freely now. Not from sadness, but from relief.
From being seen.
From being understood.
From being wanted.
March tightened her hug.
“Do not ever think you are unwanted again,” she whispered fiercely, voice cracking. “Because I will chase you through every world to prove you wrong.”
Caelus let out a trembling laugh, burying his face slightly into her shoulder. “You are so dramatic.”
“That is not the point,” she protested in a watery voice.
Himeko smiled softly, brushing his hair back with gentle fingers.
“Our home is your home,” she whispered. “For as long as you want it.”
Welt leaned forward slightly. “And even longer if we have any say.”
Dan Heng gave a small, rare smile. “Which we do.”
The warmth around him was overwhelming, but in the best way. He let himself sink into their affection, into the comfort he never thought he deserved.
He exhaled, voice trembling with emotion.
“Thank you. All of you.”
Himeko squeezed his hand.
“No, Caelus. Thank you for letting us in.”
March sniffled loudly. “Group hug,” she demanded. “Group hug now.”
Himeko laughed softly. “Well, if March insists.”
And she did.
Dan Heng hesitated only two seconds before joining, placing one hand gently atop Caelus’s head.
Welt leaned in from behind, resting a comforting hand on Caelus’s back.
March pulled everyone closer until they nearly tipped over.
Surrounded by warmth, wrapped in gentle arms and steady hands, Caelus closed his eyes.
For the first time in a long time, maybe for the first time ever, he felt whole.
Not found.
Not rescued.
Not discovered like a shiny object in the trash.
But chosen.
Wanted.
Loved.
“I am glad I am here,” he whispered into the tear damp space between them. “Really.”
And the Astral Express carried the sound of his trembling smile into the stars.