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There are 231 different scenarios that could pan out when Sunday finally works up the nerve to enter the archives unannounced. Some of the worst possible outcomes include: losing a limb, poking his eye out, having his boarding pass for the Astral Express revoked, and being dumped. All of which are things Sunday would greatly prefer not to happen. However, one should always be adequately prepared for the potential consequences of their actions before committing to anything.
Or so Sunday convinces himself in order to justify the several hours he’s spent lingering just beyond the threshold of Dan Heng’s room. One more step and the automatic door would slide open, removing the final barrier between him and the other man. This is the fifth time today he’s found himself in this exact position—and over the fiftieth staring contest he’s lost with the wall.
He’s anxious enough that his wings fly up and his heart nearly leaps out of his throat at the sound of March and Stelle snickering at him as they walk around him. The first dozen times they had passed him by they had teased him mercilessly. Now he’s been standing in the same place for so long that even they’ve given up on outwardly pestering him.
Sunday breathes in, allowing the lingering scent of parchment and pine to comfort him, as he tries to quell the restless clamor of his heart (and wounded pride).
Dan Heng is his boyfriend. They’re dating.They’ve been together for months.
That train of thought doesn’t bring him the peace of mind he wishes it would. If anything, it only makes his heart throb painfully and his concerns intensify.
It's only been a few days since the events of Amphoreus had come to pass. Everything remains fresh on the minds of all those aboard the Astral Express, but especially so when it comes to Dan Heng and Stelle. The former has spent almost the entirety of his time holed up in the archives, ceaselessly converting his every memory into files for the data bank. Dan Heng has become so elusive that he barely eats with them, turns down invites to game nights, and does his assigned chores in the middle of the night.
But Sunday is intimately familiar with Dan Heng’s subtle tells of the familiar exhaustion that once plagued him far more frequently. After finally just starting to clear up, the bags beneath Dan Heng’s eyes have grown darker yet again. His long tail, now thick and solid, drags on the ground behind him as he walks, occasionally knocking into things. His coffee intake has increased to an amount Sunday would hardly consider healthy, and he’s been prone to forgetting about his own basic needs.
All of it reminds Sunday of the earliest days he spent with Dan Heng, back when the other was still leery and distant.
‘Give him space, everything will be all right. I’m sure he’s just tired,’ Himeko had urged him when Sunday asked her for advice. And so he has.
Dan Heng endured so much, surely it would take anyone quite a while to process all of it, not to mention the rather drastic changes to his body that occurred alongside everything else. Changes Sunday is still getting used to himself. He’s yet to be able to stand in front of Dan Heng without a silent prayer leaving his tongue thanks to the fact that he now just so happens to be perfectly eye level with Dan Heng’s rather… ample chest. If the Aeons are trying to test him, Sunday has little doubt he’ll receive the only failing grade he’s ever gotten in his life.
But Sunday is a chronic worrier so giving anyone space isn’t something he’s all that good at. Which is also why he can’t get Stelle’s advice after watching him sulk for an entire day out of his head: ‘If you’re so worried about Mr. Grumpypants just barge into the archives and ask him about it. It’s not like he locks the door nowadays.’
Firstly, doing so would be an invasion of Dan Heng’s privacy, not to mention an affront to the trust he affords all of them. Secondly… It's been five days since Dan Heng joined them for supper and Sunday is concerned. Thirdly, as his boyfriend, it’s Sunday’s duty to address Dan Heng’s distance from everyone on behalf of the Astral Express. And, finally… finally, Sunday misses him dearly and the space stretching out between them is beginning to gnaw at his heart bit by bit. If he leaves it unattended for much longer, there won’t be anything left of it.
So, unfortunately, for once in his life, Sunday is going to listen to Stelle’s advice.
It’s a risk he’s willing to take–for Dan Heng’s sake, of course (and not at all for his own).
So, Sunday prepares himself by rehearsing those 231 possibilities just one more time before finally taking that single step forward and opening the door to the archives without knocking.
“Dan Heng.” Sunday knows he needs to be quick, if he doesn’t immediately launch into the subject at hand he’ll crumble over the atrocity he just committed. “No matter what may befall us, I will always be here to listen and lend you a–”
As Sunday’s left foot enters the room, the door automatically slides shut behind him with a soft click that is brutally devoured by a loud and high-pitched squeak. A full body shiver races through Sunday’s veins at the abhorrent sound and every last feather on his body stands upright. Sucking in the gasp that had nearly escaped him, Sunday’s wide-eyed gaze drifts from the pet toy beneath his foot to Dan Heng.
His heart, which had been on the verge of jolting out of his chest, stops entirely.
Dan Heng is sitting on the floor in front of the hazy blue screen situated by the window. The mellow light makes his newfound scales shimmer like the ocean’s surface at dusk and the golden horns atop his head glitter as if they were the very sun itself. All of that alone would have been more than enough to make Sunday’s breath catch within his throat, but Dan Heng’s breathtaking beauty isn’t what currently has him mesmerized (though it’s not helping).
No, it’s the ethereal image of Dan Heng with a small, feline-like creature rolling around on the floor behind him that does Sunday in. With the animal’s tiny claws extended, the creature is busy playfully batting at and chewing on Dan Heng’s tail that’s purposefully swishing along the floor for him to chase.
Loose pages flutter in every direction as the feline remains entirely heedless of the disorganized journals on the ground. Stacks of books also come tumbling down whenever he pounces at the tip. Judging from the condition of those books, it looks as if Dan Heng has picked them up over a dozen times already.
But, what’s even more enthralling is the gentle and warm smile upon Dan Heng’s face as he watches the creature–the same one that turns to surprise when Dan Heng’s attention snaps to Sunday after hearing his name.
Sunday’s mouth opens and closes wordlessly at least ten times as he continues to watch the creature spring at Dan Heng’s tail, which has long since stilled. Clearly, the animal is completely unbothered by the awkward tension and strained silence stretching out between the two bipedal creatures in the room.
Without his own voice to fill the void, Sunday can hear tiny whimpers coming from Dan Heng’s sorry excuse for a bed. The blanket covering it shifts with every sound.
Dan Heng gives in first. His gaze drifts down to the creature clinging tightly to his tail instead of trying to maintain eye contact. “Sunday… I can explain.”
Dan Heng looks guilty. Guiltier than March when she forgets to wash the dishes, or Welt when he quietly pours out one of Himeko’s coffees into the plants, or Stelle whenever she gets caught digging through the trash–actually, that last one isn’t a good comparison. Sunday is fairly confident Stelle has never felt an ounce of guilt in her life.
Of all 231 scenarios Sunday had managed to come up with–this had not been amongst them.
Despite nearly becoming an Aeon and all of the years he spent serving as a Bronze Melodia, Sunday is only human. There’s no amount of power or training in the world that could have made him witness such an incredible sight and keep a straight face. Against his best efforts, a heartfelt smile curves the corners of his lips upwards until his cheeks hurt and his entire face turns a vivid pink.
Focus, Sunday reminds himself as he awkwardly clears his throat. He’s here to support Dan Heng, not ogle him.
“There has been no harm done, Dan Heng.” Sunday tries to reassure the other without his voice cracking as he crosses over the cluttered floor.
Somehow, despite logic dictating it impossible in Sunday’s mind, the archives are in the worst state he’s ever had the misfortune of seeing them in. Though piles of books and open journals are always commonplace here, all of the cat toys, tiny beds, and various other knick knacks are new additions to the clutter littering the floor.
Every single part of Sunday wants to turn heel and organize the entire room, but, for Dan Heng’s sake, he shoves that urge down. He’ll address the mess later–after he’s addressed the elephant in the room. Or, should he say, cat? He’s still not entirely certain what Dan Heng’s companion is. He’s distinctly feline in shape, perhaps a bit rounder, but cats don’t typically have the horns and tail of a dragon.
Especially not ones that happen to look suspiciously like Dan Heng’s.
Vidyadhara are infertile, are they not?
Sunday dismisses the thought the second it rears its head. How absurd that it would even cross his mind.
Regaining his composure, Sunday sits down beside Dan Heng and extends his hand to softly scratch beneath the creature’s chin.
“Is this little one why you’ve been so distant as of late?” Against his palm, Sunday can feel the soft fur of the animal brushing along his hand, and from within the cat’s belly, he can hear a deep and loud purr begin to rumble.
It would be a relief if this was the only reason for Dan Heng’s absence.
Yet, from the corner of his eyes, Sunday sees the tips of Dan Heng’s pointed ears go red.
“Actually…”
As if summoned by the shame lurking in Dan Heng’s voice, the lumps beneath the blanket stir from their slumber.
The first thing that emerges from its depths is a hat that’s followed by gray fur and a wiggly tail as another feline pops out into the open. She takes one glance at Sunday, almost seems to snicker, and then bounds over to the trashcan in the corner of the room–promptly knocking it over onto her head.
The second is a similar creature. She sports black and pink fur with a lovely flower upon her head instead of a ridiculous baseball cap. She catches sight of Sunday briefly, then sticks up her nose and trots off to stare at the swaying blue lights on the floor. Sunday can’t place why, but there’s something deeply unsettling about that one, though she seems far less troublesome than the gray one.
The last one that crawls out is a second black and white one that looks quite similar to the one he’s petting–though his horns and tail resemble Dan Heng’s other form. When the second dragon-cat spots him, he wags his chunky tail and cautiously approaches him. With only a wag of Sunday’s fingers, he gingerly bumps his round head against Sunday’s palm to ask for attention Sunday is overjoyed to give.
Sunday’s been told that pets are supposed to resemble their owners, but this seems a bit extreme.
“I stand corrected, are they the reason?” Sunday tries, but fails to suppress an airy and quiet laugh.
They are quite the handful, Sunday is swiftly learning as the very first one decides he’s not willing to share. Shamelessly, he scurries into Sunday’s lap while shoving one of his paws in the face of the second dragon-cat in the process. With his sibling’s toe beans shoved into his nose, the second snaps his tail and leaps gracelessly into Sunday’s lap with a soft thud–managing to land directly on the first one’s head.
“Yes…” Dan Heng admits sheepishly. “Though, I’m still uncertain how they managed to follow me here.”
Not entirely discretely, Dan Heng slides his tail between the two bickering animals in order to prevent them from wrestling on Sunday’s lap. Sunday; however, believes he might have ulterior motives judging by the way in which that tail then coils around his waist.
He’s jealous. It’s cute. Everything about Dan Heng interacting with these felines is adorable. And Sunday is determined not to utter a single word about it because he called the other man’s tail cute once and it took him months to coax Dan Heng to let it manifest again after that.
“If I may ask, what are they?” Sunday chooses not to point out the uncanny resemblance they have to several members of the Astral Express as he aimlessly strokes the two in his lap–occasionally running his fingers along the smooth scales of Dan Heng’s tail as he does so.
“Chimeras, they hail from Amphoreus.” The very tip of Dan Heng’s tail sways in delight whenever Sunday’s hand touches it. “They’re fairly intelligent and capable of understanding human speech. Perhaps, because they’re the accidental result of humans attempting to revive lost species, they often seem to bear a resemblance to those around them.”
Resemblance seems like an understatement to Sunday.
“They’re rather fascinating creatures, honestly. While I was able to observe them in Amphoreus, this is the most amount of time I’ve been able to spend with them. Even their habits seem to reflect the humans they take after. It’s a–” Dan Heng clears his throat. “Sorry… that was a bit much, wasn’t it?”
“Not at all.” Seeing Dan Heng so animated after all of the short and brisk conversations over these past few days is a breath of fresh air to Sunday. If Dan Heng wishes to lecture him about the origins of these creatures, he’s more than happy to sit in the archives and listen to the other speak for hours on end. Though, that likely wouldn’t get them very far.
Sunday will also mull over Dan Heng’s observation far too much if he continues to think about it. What exactly does he mean when he says their habits reflect the people they resemble? Does that mean Dan Heng wants him to pet him?
Sunday’s rose-tinted wings draw closer to his body and he quickly shakes his head. He needs to move on from those thoughts before the temptation gets the better of him and he actually tries to pet Dan Heng’s head.
“Do they have names?”
For a moment, the purring of the two chimeras in Sunday’s lap and the rattling of the gray chimera as she tries to paw the trashcan off of her head, are the only sounds in the room.
Then Dan Heng exhales.
“... The two on your lap are named Toasty Dragon and Stuffed Dragon. The gray one is Grey-mera, and the pink one is… Gummy Roll.” Every word sounds like a struggle, and makes the tips of Dan Heng’s ears redder and redder.
Truthfully, the names are so absurd that Sunday would have been shocked speechless if not for all of the wild confessions he’s heard in the past.
“I see.” Sunday purses his lips, trying not to let out the laugh lingering in the back of his throat at Dan Heng’s embarrassment. “So… one could call them Toasty, Stuffy, Greyie, and Gummy for short. It’s… less of a mouthful at least.” He feels ridiculous saying that out loud. Now he understands how Dan Heng must have felt.
Dan Heng’s gaze flickers back to him. “I wasn’t the one to name them,” Dan Heng says, like he needs to defend his honor.
Sunday hums softly in acknowledgement as he watches the tip of Dan Heng’s tail twitch. There’s a distinct person who comes to mind when he considers who could have possibly given them such absurd names.
“This does explain your absence, but why not tell everyone about them? Would it not be better to have some assistance in caring for them?” Judging from the state of the room, Dan Heng’s sorely in need of a second set of hands. Though, Sunday feels as if a certain chimera is far more troublesome than the others.
“I don’t want the others to get attached to them.” Dan Heng reaches over to run the tips of his fingers along Toasty’s back, feeling the soft fur squish beneath his calloused touch. “Truthfully, I haven’t decided what to do with them yet. It’s not possible for them to return to their home, and I’m still uncertain of how they could impact the ecosystems of the various planets that I’ve deemed most hospitable towards them.”
There’s a heaviness to Dan Heng’s voice that Sunday recognizes. A deep loneliness and a desire to belong–to have a place to return to at the end of the day. It's a feeling that both he and Dan Heng know all too well.
But times have changed. They do have a place where they belong.
“Dan Heng,” Sunday calls his name softly as he runs his fingers idly along the other’s knuckles. “If they have nowhere to call home, is the Astral Express not, exactly, where they belong?”
Dan Heng’s gaze drifts over each chimera–from the way Toasty’s chest rises and falls as he sleeps in Sunday’s lap, to the way Stuffy sneaks the occasional lick at Sunday’s hand when he thinks the other isn’t paying attention. Then he glances at Greyie as she dislodges herself from the trashcan and flops down dramatically against his leg as if she’s just defeated an overpowered enemy. Then, finally, he looks to Gummy who senses his eyes on her and lets out a quiet sound before trotting over and curling up against his side beside Greyie.
Dan Heng’s expression softens as he regards them. Even amongst the other chimeras, these four had always stuck together–even if they caused trouble from time to time. Well, mostly Greyie caused trouble and dragged the other three down with her. They… truly are like them.
“I worry they’ll yearn for their former home or feel constrained by the limited space aboard the Express.” Dan Heng flips his hand over, wrapping his fingers around Sunday’s and rubbing his thumb along the other’s palm.
“I think they yearn for you far more, Dan Heng.” So does Sunday, but those words linger, unspoken, in the air between them. “Without you beside them, I’m certain they would be lonely and frightened.” But, with Dan Heng, they’re comfortable and happy. After all, they’ve been content to stay in this one room despite the entire train being at their disposal. All they would have to do is nudge the door open, and the rest of the train would be theirs to explore.
They remind Sunday of his first days aboard the Express, when Dan Heng was still weary of him and never far away. In a strange sense, the other’s presence had been comforting to him, even back then.
“Perhaps, you are right.” Dan Heng traces patterns in the shape of each chimera’s face on Sunday’s palm, his tail flicking in thought. “The Astral Express has become just as much their home as it is ours.”
“So it seems,” Sunday shifts a bit closer to Dan Heng, resting his knees against the other’s. “I also assure you the moment that Stelle and March realize they’re here, they’ll never let you release them.”
He’s actually impressed that Dan Heng has managed to keep them a secret for so long given how nosy their companions can be. Though, Sunday supposes, they do tend to leave pestering Dan Heng to him these days–joining in only after he’s smoothed things over for them.
Ah, in hindsight, maybe they’re just using him as a sacrificial shield whenever they’re worried Dan Heng might be in a sour mood. Like right now, with Stelle encouraging him to check in on Dan Heng, but not daring to do so herself.
Somehow, he always ends up falling for her plans.
“You’re right,” Dan Heng admits quietly, his attention still on the chimeras sleeping in Sunday’s lap, and on how soft Sunday’s palm feels within his hand.
Sunday smiles at him gently–with a tenderness that’s reserved only for Dan Heng.
“Dan Heng,” Sunday reaches out, and gingerly rubs his hand over top of Dan Heng’s head. “Welcome home.”
Sunday feels Dan Heng’s tail tighten around his waist–not with force, but rather with affection.
Then, slowly, Dan Heng seems to relax as he leans closer. Cupping Sunday’s jaw with his free hand, Dan Heng tilts his head up slightly so he can gently press their foreheads together and nuzzle into the warmth that radiates off of Sunday.
Sunday thinks, this time, the purring he can hear is coming from Dan Heng and not the chimeras.
“It’s good to be home.”