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The nights following the conclusion of their escapade in Amphoreus felt like a dull ache. Stelle’s insomniac tendecencies found themselves exacerbated by impeding memories of the journey. The stellaron’s angry hymn became drowned by the death and pain plaguing the journey.
Stelle sat on her bed, shakily clutching a warm mug of coffee in her hands. The steam rose up past the dark gradient under her amber eyes. Had the gradient been on her eyelids instead, March may of jealousy demanded a tour of Amphoreus’s beauty stores.
Stelle deeply regarded her mug, and in a swift move chugged it until not a single drop lingered. The mug soon found itself resting lonesomely on her nightstand, next to a gaggle of peculiar items that were most definitely out of place- each in their own way.
In fact, her entire room looked like a tornado had fit it. She couldn’t even doomscroll (which she’d been filling the void with) because her charger was missing in action.
She’d likely find a spare whenever she felt like it. Anything but asking someone else. Everyone already knew she wasn’t well put together, but she was aware that this shell-like state would warrant too many questions.
Stelle ran her fingers through her near matted hair, stoically regarding the strands in dim light. The coarse ashen strands reckoned a sculpted neglect like she was their abusive parent.
Her body scolded her for the trashy ignorance of the fact her actions had consequences by controlling what it could: her. But, the same body being commanded by a self obsessed brain caused her actions.
It felt pathetic. Pale skin and dull eyes. The feeling of darkness gagging her and throwing her into a pit, only to be watched at. She’d scream for her loved ones, but the more she bit the gag the more she began to bleed black and the further her energy was sapped. It became exhausting, so she stopped.
Every now and again a hand would stretch out to her, and she would refuse to take it. The shadows claimed that nobody would truly love her, and that any help would be futile.
A sense of mistrust managed to fester, as did one that nobody could help and that nobody was trying “hard enough”. A sense that the only way to get help was to sit and wait or do something drastic. But she didn’t have the balls for that.
The idea of accidentally hurting herself too much terrified her, but the idea of someone finally expressing their care along with pity was tempting.
She shoved that idea into her back pocket with the idea of hitting her sorrows with her bat.
Maybe she oughta end it all, but that pesky stellaron would never allow her to do so. It’s like the stellaron hunters installed it just to prolong her suffering.
It’d never work.
Nothing would.
At least something had to.
Stelle took a look at the clock, deciding that maybe finding chips or something would heal at least some sort of wound. If it couldn’t, then aeons help her.
1 am.
Too late for most except for the stoic hermit. He never impeded on her business when she wandered the express at this hour, so it’s unlikely he would now.
Stelle couldn’t comprehend approaching the other passengers. She wasn’t clean enough to listen to high pitched chuckles, smell the pungent aroma of black coffee, take any responsibility, or chat like a family.
Wouldn’t family always be there for one another?
Stelle stood up, the clothes she hadn’t changed in a week clinging to her exhausted body. Tears wanted to fall, but like usual, superglue-like resilience clogged her tear ducts from any release. She lifted her hood over her head, so that if anyone was wandering at this hour nothing would immediately appear wrong.
Comfort food, then disappear for as long as she could. That was the plan.
The other express members had already caught onto Stelle’s apparent need for aloneness, so water, food, and other necessities had been left at her door. So thankfully, excursions were not on the daily.
Stelle nearly tripped over unclean clothes at the door way, but besides that, she was off.
The express embodied a refreshing quiet peace at night. A secluded force to live alongside, one that wouldn’t force you to dive in deep if you didn’t want to. The vacuum of space outside the windows proved similar, you didn’t have to interact with it if you didn’t want to.
Stelle lived- more like existed- neutrally along with her environment. It’d be there with or without her, and wouldn’t care about when she was gone.
Maybe it was beautiful, or horrifying, depending on who you’d ask, that comfort in the darkness can be found through perceived unimportance.
The party car wasn’t her destination, more so her hidden snack stash for boring team meetings in the parlor car.
She sluggishly climbed the steps and gingerly slid the door open. She rubbed her eyes viciously at the bright lights illuminating the car in the bright early morning hours. Great.
She pulled the strings of her hoodie as tight as she could while retaining the ability to see. Not like she could anyway, this is the most light she’s gotten in days.
Her eyes took their sweet time adjusting, so she quickly leaned down to avoid being seen. Only a short walk to retrieve the snacks, and whoever it was (hopefully) wouldn’t ask too many questions.
So anyone but March.
Although, she thankfully slept the heaviest out of anyone on the express. Stelle, insomniac #2, and Sunday, someone that could be woken up by a feather falling, envied her for that.
Insomniac #1, Dan Heng, could care less.
Although, it was her, so maybe he’d be worse than March.
The most emotion she’d felt in a while was the pleading with the aeons that it would in fact be March and not Dan Heng.
When her phone was alive- she probably oughta grab a charger from down here alone, it just dawned on her- he texted her more than anyone else. Of course short messages, but every other day was the most sparse they ever got. Normally 1-2 a day.
The frequency of his texts should’ve been enough of a sign that something was wrong, considering he’d always been more of a fan of in person communication. However, Stelle really didn’t have the energy to think about that unless it was spelt out to her that something was wrong.
Her eyes had finally adjusted a passable amount, so she swooped up and shuffled over to one of the cushions, head down.
She discreetly lifted it up, and grabbed a bag of her favorite chips and a sizable bag of her favorite candy. She also took a flat bottle of soulglad because it felt right.
When she turned around, she saw the express’s archivist was nowhere to be found. Along with the other rare emotions now she was outside of her territory, guilt decided to pluck at her ribs like guitar strings.
Yet another force contributing to the need to open her ribs like a latch to tear out her heart.
A guitar with broken strings won’t play.
Okay, maybe she’d check. It wasn’t like him to leave the lights on anywhere at night. He’d probably say that being a hermit wasn’t like her, or something to that effect.
No amount of shadows could remove the fact she cared about others. Whether that was a good or a bad thing, she didn’t know. Some would argue that it was her saviour.
Stelle crept across the car, and slid open the door to the passenger cabin. She glanced around the corner, and thankfully, light only peered from one door. The door to the data bank.
Dan Heng said that Stelle was welcome there any time, so surely a simple check in wouldn’t hurt.
She sat her snacks down in the hall, and cracked his door open slightly, only to see a wilted archivist, in his newer, much taller form, staring blindly off into space. Stelle solemnly nodded, taking a step in although her feet urged her to turn back. What did she have to lose, and what did action have over inaction?
She tightened her hoodie further, and kneeled next to Dan Heng. Her eyes quickly adjusted back to the comforting dimness, and that allowed her to see at least a little through the fabric of her hood.
“Dan Heng.” She muttered, her voice hoarse from unuse. He didn’t even blink. Concern flared, along with guilt. Others had it much worse, and she was holed up selfishly in her own pity rather than helping others, all that she was good for.
“Dan Heng.” She covered his hand with hers, and he seemed to jolt out of some sort of trance. Surprise and fear coated his expression, surprise that she was there and fear of whatever the hell he’d just seen.
It seems that the pain doesn’t even spare the secure.
“Are you-“ Stelle spoke, voice monotone. The archivist pulled her into a tight hug, setting her in his lap to fix the awkward position. The rare display of affection felt warm, and sent her into a state of shock.
It felt like someone’s hand had finally reached her, even if it maybe only brushed against her fingertips. She didn’t know how to react, arms clad in a set position resisting the second nature to return the embrace.
This sort of action wasn’t even characteristic of him, but so many recent developments weren’t. He’d changed so much, maybe this was a part of it.
Did a millennia make him more affectionate or something?
“Are you okay?” She asked calmly. “This isn’t like you.”
This isn’t like you, really, Stelle? She immediately regretted the words.
Dan Heng pulled down her hood and rested his arms around her shoulders, taking a look at her unkempt form.
“This isn’t like either of us.” He replied. “I see that you haven’t been sleeping either.”
Stelle gazed upon his features as well, his eyebags only slightly more prominent and his ears tipped downward. The pain appeared kinder to him than her.
She chalked it up to a difference in personalities.
She didn’t reply to his statement, not wanting to concern him further.
“I take that as confirmation. I…” he sighed. “I don’t sleep much either, but I find I sleep less and less as well.”
Neither of them wanted to spell it out.
“I can’t even close my eyes.” Stelle admitted, voice just above a peep. Dan Heng nodded in understanding.
“You have that and the stellaron.” He stated. “If you needed remedies or comfort you could’ve come to me anytime.”
Fuck, did she hurt him?
“I….” Stelle mumbled. Dan Heng’s expression was unreadable.
“I…” fuck it. “I wish you would’ve come to me.” Stelle shut her eyes for a moment before shooting them open again.
Dan Heng fidgetted with the handle on the back of her jacket. “It’s hard.” He swallowed, grounding himself with the hum of the technology around them.
“I know.” Stelle agreed, finally moving her arms so that they were wrapped around his waist. “I’m so sorry.” She mustered. “I should’ve-“
“It’s not your fault that either of us feel this way. Amphoreus…” he clenched his jaw “was an experience for everyone involved.”
“I feel like it’s eating me alive. I was too scared-“
He embraced her again.
Her heart beat like the stellaron was going to explode, although it itself remained calm. She felt like none of this was real, and that the world was going to end. It felt like the shadows were anguishing, searching for the leash they kept her on, whilst she walked through the dark forest housing them, with a quaint lantern.
“We handle things in our own way. I should’ve reached my hand further, I am scared too.” Dan Heng admitted.
We handle things in our own way.
“Let’s be scared together, I dont know why but the second I left my room I felt a little better.” Stelle nuzzled her head into his shoulder. “I think that was some part of me telling me that seclusion and self pity wasn’t the answer.”
“I think you entering my room told me that playing it safe wasn’t the answer either.” Dan Heng ran his fingers through a non matted strand of her hair. “A millennia gave me time to think about most of it, but some of it still burns.”
“It feels like everyone expects you to move on like nothing ever happened when in reality it takes forever to even get there.” Stelle remarked. “I’m so fucking tired.”
“Rest here, I’ve got you.” Dan Heng reassured.
“I don’t think sleep will accept me anymore.” Stelle shook her head.
“I will, besides, you’ll never know if you don’t try. I’ve told you before that I’m here to help. You think I’d quit after a millennia of searching?”
Stelle weakly smiled. “No, I don’t.”
“Then rest, I’ve got you. Who knows, it may help me too.”
——————
The next morning Dan Heng’s phone buzzed right next to the two of them, he must’ve forgotten to put it on silent after another stretch of waiting for a message from Stelle.
Thankfully, the two of them found good sleep, and seemingly both of their sleeps were dreamless.
It was the express family group chat. It seemed that Stelle had left her door open that morning, and March was reacting lividly to the state of her room. More that than the fact she wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Speculation hit the chat, and the half awake Dan Heng typed with one hand “she’s with me”.
March seemed relieved.
The mom of the group, Himeko, did urge Stelle to pick her room up, and to not leave snacks in the hallway.
She’d already guessed the trailblazer’s whereabouts that morning by the snack’s placement, and just put them back in her stash.
Welt backed the coffee drinker up.
And again, the group chat oozed with life, among the realization that the two insomniacs were sharing the same space.
Sunday hesitantly typed that “if it’s no trouble, please cease communication as the notifications woke me up even though my phone was across the room.”
Himeko offered him some coffee.
Dan Heng chuckled at the sight of everyone being themselves.
That was enough to wake up Stelle. She leaned up and rubbed her eyes with her hand. “Mmmm….what time is it?” She said, soon bewildered by the fact she’d achieved a peaceful night of rest.
“Not particularly early, if you want to go back to sleep you can. March won’t hunt you down, yet.” Dan Heng assured.
“That’s future me’s problem, for when I have my bat in a close radius.” She yawned and shut her eyes again.
The archivist smiled, and responded to one of March’s messages.
“She said she’d take care of you when she had her bat, and then immediately fell back asleep.”
The morning felt like a nice return to form.
Sleep truly was a rejuvenating process.