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No one knows why this happened. Not even Misha. But.. He has returned, and become his own person! With his own dreams, and newfound ability to make more unique memories of his own! Not exactly. When he awoke he had no clue where he woke from. The void? A liminal space? The only thing obvious to him was the pounding headache he experienced, and quick flashes of Mikhail's memories. He knew that much.
But none of that matters! What does is that he somehow found himself to become a Trailblazer!!!
When the members of the express had accepted and welcomed him with open arms despite his clumsy, a bit mentally disheveled and troubled person, Misha couldn't help but feel so warm and grateful. Really! He was! Well, his first impressions on Sunday when he reemerged as his own person was a bit rocky and off-putting. When Misha greets himself to everyone, he couldn’t put his finger on why Sunday looked at him with a cold shoulder.
No biggie though, that's what talking to others and connecting with them is for!
And so that's what he did during the first few weeks of his stay on the Express. March 7th told him all about her interests in photography and silly stories about everyone, Dan Heng gave him lessons on typical days and even gave him a routine to follow! Himeko loved requesting Misha’s help in the dining car and Welt enjoyed Misha’s presence despite dropping.. A lot of dishes..
That's okay though!
Welt only gave him a stern warning to be careful and that was it. Who knew life could be so fun and forgiving?
At night life wouldn’t be so fun, and Misha would often get flashes of past memories that he dreaded of reliving. Even if they weren't his own, it still stung and stabbed at his body with physical jolts of pain and headaches. His room was already dark to begin with since it would be around the time he’s sleeping, and sometimes it was like he could see scenes play out on the walls. It was horrible for him to still have a connection to the fragmented memories; his past life. It saddened him how much he can't run away far enough to become his own person.
But that's well, you know!!! It’s just a minor thing in his life!
The most he could do was make the most of his time with his unbound and free body, while simultaneously having a shadow loom over his shoulder!
“AAHHH-CHOO!”
A series of sneezes come in a thundering barrage behind Misha’s assigned room. Inside was thoroughly decorated; walls strung with photos from his adventures and endeavors with the rest of the crew on the Express, and other personal touches to show his personality and to make it feel more like home.
With uhm, a lot of snotty tissues that littered the floor like thin patches of snow on a dirt path.
“AAH-HAAH….” Misha sits in his bed under the blankets to keep his shivering body warm, and his face becomes numb from sneezing and coughing so much. His hand could barely block his nose from the stinging pain. “...CHOO! Ugh…”
Today was not ideal. Though it was a travel day throughout the cosmos and whatever, Misha had wanted to go out and observe the lands they passed by and the wonders that time has yet to show him. But today was just not his day.
Coughing a few times from his bed, he hugs his knees to his chest as he is bundled up like a burrito. “..Maybe some.. Food from the kitchen.. Can help me..” He whispered weakly to himself, then had to force his body to move from the burning hot covers and kept his body wrapped in his thick blanket.
‘My body is so heavy now dang it!!’ Misha cried in his head. ‘Huhuhu…’
Opening his door and trudging away from his sauna-like room that was quickly becoming a recycling room due to all the tissues on the floor, Misha makes his way down the car to move into the next one. His vision was so blurry he thought he was going to faint and started seeing double of everything.
When were there so many doors everywhere?!
He was starting to hallucinate a bottle of water floating in the air, and he reached out like a baby to a fun rattle with a relieved smile. “Oh.. Finally..!” He cheers in excitement.
Thud. Completely falls on his face.
Thank goodness he was wearing a cushiony blanket over his body and head, so he only suffered a numbing pain on his face. Well, that’s the ideal outcome anyway. That is, if he was conscious..
“...Misha..”
“.....Misha!”
“..MISHA!”
Eyes fly open and are blinded by fluorescent lights in an unknown room, 5 more thick blankets all over his body that made it hard to move an inch, and a lot of blurry faces surrounding his peripheral vision.
A.. red tomato..
Pink and blue cotton candy..
A dark chocolate ball!
Garbage can…
A coffee latte with a white streak..
Even a cute little bunny bread thing!
And yummy coated chicken…
Misha starts drooling at all of the food swirling around his vision. “...Mmmm… Yummy.. Food for me..!” He muses in a deliriously quiet voice. His head was pounding, but the food sounded so good right now!! “Hahahahaha…”
“He’s lost his mind.” The chicken flapped its wings and looked away.
“You think? He’s burning up so much!” One of the garbage can’s handles (or.. Was it hands?) pointed at Misha’s face.
“Poor thing!!! What do we do?!” The cotton candy cries out and turns to the nearby coffee cup.
“Get him medicine of course. What else?” They responded back with a calm and stable tone.
The chocolate piece looked to be thinking and looked deep in thought. “I don't know if we have any….”
“Dan Heng you’re not helping!!!” Then all of a sudden the cotton candy attacks and shakes the chocolate violently by its shoulders!! A battle of the sweets..
“..Relax everyone,” A wise tomato pipes up before leaning in close to Misha’s face. “..Misha.. Are you alright?”
The whole conversation was a blur to Misha and he could only blink drearyly at everything around him. Talking food… “..What..?” He replied back with a hoarse voice.
It was only then his vision seemed to return back to him and he could process that the food had ACTUAL faces!
The tomato was Himeko, coffee was Welt and the chocolate bonbon was Dan Heng, cotton candy was March 7th and the trash can was Trailblazer!! The cute bunny bread was Pompom, and Sunday was the chicken. Misha felt so embarrassed at that moment. Who wouldnt?? Sure he may be fragmented in the head, but he wouldn't think that he would act all drunk and delirious just because he fell and mistaken his friends for delicacies!
By this time Sunday had already gone away to some other place on the Express, which Misha felt strangely saddened by. “..Where's Sunday?” He asked quietly, sitting up with the help of Dan Heng supporting his back. “Wasn’t he just here?”
Himeko laughed and patted his head. “Oh, Sunday just stepped away just now. Why? You should be more worried about yourself, you know!”
“Oh,” Misha blinked at the gentle touch on his feverish head. He sneezed again and everyone recoiled a little bit.
“Yikes, how did you get so sick??” March 7th cringes, but scrambles to find a tissue box.
“I.. I don’t know..” He shivered, clutching the blanket tighter around his body. Misha felt like passing out again, and he would’ve if his mind wasn't reeling with a pounding headache and questions. “Wait, how did you guys find me? Did I fall too loud?” Misha worried if his accident caused a major disturbance, and felt guilty about it.
Trailblazer just looked down at Misha with a kind smile. “Nope. It was actually Sunday who found you first.” They explained. “I guess he heard a thump too in the hallway, so I went to check it out and found him hunched over your body. Then I helped him carry you into the spare room!”
“Ah.”
Sunday found him? Misha couldn't help but have complicated feelings. He knew Sunday didn't always have the post optimal opinions and feelings towards him, though he also knew that Sunday didn't harbor many negative ones either. Still, hearing about that made Misha confused.
“But why?” He asked next.
“Not sure. But he looked pretty frazzled back there. Almost..” Trailblazer thinks for a moment while looking at the ceiling then back down at him. “..Maybe concerned? Frightened isn't the right word, but indifferent isn't either.”
Sunday being concerned for Misha. Now things were just even more confusing!
What did Misha even do to get that kind of attention from him? He is aware of how Mikhail and Sunday’s dynamics were in the past from the fragmented memories and also hints the latter drops and makes obvious. So he couldn’t help but ponder his reasons for this happening.
“..Unfortunately,” Dan Heng speaks up. “..Oh, sorry to break up the moment. But we arrived at our destination and it called for our attention.” He stands up and glances at Misha and apologetic stares. “Sorry Misha. But we can’t stay in the Express for too long unless we want this opportunity to go to waste.”
Not really bothered by the announcement, Misha nodded and rubbed at his nose in understanding. “No worries Dan Heng.” He looked around at the circle. “Will all of you be going?”
“Er… Yes; unfortunately all of us have to be present, as there is something afoot with this new environment.” Himeko answered sheepishly. “But fear not,” She helped bundle Misha up more in the blanket and handed him a drink of water. “Sunday will be staying behind with Pompom. He didn’t want to go on this exploration! So you won’t be completely lonely. And we will also be coming back to the Express frequently, so you’ll still see us around!”
Strangely, that didn’t make Misha feel any more relieved than he should've, and instead gulped down the water that cooled down his burning soul and immediately craved more. He coughed and stood up with some help.
It was time for everyone to head out on their jobs with the helpless Misha behind. ‘Darn.. If only I wasn't so sick.. I could be going out and exploring with them..’
Lucky for him, Sunday would be keeping him company! Though.. He didn't really wave the others goodbye when they left and instead kept to himself.
Misha was mainly in the lobby car and was sitting on the couch as he watched everyone talk amongst each other before officially leaving. The blankets were great, but he was going through the cycles of it being too hot and too cold at the same time, and his body couldn't decide which temperature it wanted the most. So he could only sit there and shiver. Sneezing and wheezing a ton on the couch, he flops over and lays sideways on the cushions. ‘So not awesome..’
It was unclear when he had fallen over again, but Misha rolled off the couch due to him dozing off. Which elicited another loud thump on the floor and jumps from everyone nearby. However what was the more surprising factor was how quickly Sunday came over by Misha’s side and helped him up with gentle hands.
“???” Misha was so confused, and he ended up tearing up. Maybe it was the sickness coming to his head again, or why Sunday was acting this way after being so distant; What was obvious was the strange things that were happening today.
“Hey!” Sunday shook his body a few times before stopping and regaining his composure with a cough. “..Are you alright Misha?” He asks with that steady tone of his.
The members of the Express run over with shock and worry. They all look at Misha with that same kind of concern from earlier, and ask what happened.
“..Oh nothing.. I..” Misha waved his hand in a dismissive manner, but still had tears streaming down his face. Then he starts coughing and sneezing with his face all red and hazy, causing Sunday to grasp his shoulders tighter with the blanket wrapped more closely.
Alarmed, Himeko clears her throat and looks down at the sight before kneeling and fixing the blanket covering. “..You know.. Maybe we should just skip the expedition for today. Misha should come first.” She says seriously.
Welt stared as well and put the back of his hand on Misha’s forehead. “..He’s.. Got a very high fever..” He says grimly and with a fatherly expression of care. “..So tending to him is very critical.”
Misha didn’t look so good; that was a fact based on how much he was shivering under Sunday’s grasp. Which seemed to change something about Sunday’s demeanor. From him being distant and standoffish towards Misha, his face was now one of worry and showed brotherly affection to Misha.
Taking initiative, Sunday stands up and hoists Misha against his bigger body. “..I.. Can take him to his room.” And without saying much else, he turned on his heel and walked down the car hallways with haste in his step.
Dumbfounded, everyone stood behind and watched the passenger act strangely from his usual persona on the train.
“..You know, half of us can go out and the other half can stay in..” Dan Heng starts before he gets shook again violently by March 7th.
“How can you be so heartless Dan Heng?? Clearly we should all stay to help!” She lectured.
To prevent his brain from getting shaken up like a smoothie, Dan Heng surrenders and looks down at Misha. “..But Sunday seems to have it under control?” He asks with that kind of look on his face.
March 7th hits Dan Heng’s back. “That doesn't mean we can't help?!”
“...”
Meanwhile, Sunday has begun to bring the awkward and silent Misha to his room. Yes, Sunday has been given a room at last! What a joyous thing for him, congratulations Sunday.
The main reason why Misha was quiet was because he has been using all of his energy to hold back a nasty cough and sneeze out of fear of getting snot all over Sunday’s garbs. But unfortunately Misha being incredibly sick, couldn’t hold it back anymore and sneezed all over Sunday’s front.
“...” Flinching, Sunday stops his walk as his expression was blank and later turned into a grimace when he looked down at Misha in his arms.
In that moment, Misha could only stay quiet as he swallowed back his anxieties and another sneeze. “...”
“..Sorry.” Misha squeaked out with a shy and apologetic face. To be honest he feared how Sunday would react to such a disgusting act. After all, the two only just seemed to recently get along and form some kind of friendship.
With a heavy sigh, Sunday kept his frowning face and resumed his route to his room without saying much. “It’s fine. Just don't sneeze on me again,” He grumbled. “Understand?”
Nodding without protest, Misha could only shimmy in Sunday’s arms. “..Yes sir..” His meek voice whispered out. Maybe due to him being sick, curled and bundled in the blankets, or maybe out of fear of destroying this moment.
They arrive in Sunday’s room where Misha is laid on the bed and the bedside lamp turned on. Expectantly, Misha observed Sunday’s room which was mostly empty save for the necessities and little personal items. And also some polaroids on the wall. Of course!
The situation was incredibly silent and awkward, as Misha didn't know what to do or say with Sunday in the room, and Sunday had finally caught up with his consciousness as to why he started to care for Misha in this way; resulting in a grimace, Sunday could only look pensive on his seat on the corner of the bed. In the end, no one knows what happened or why they are acting this way. The sickly trailblazer keeps himself bundled under the covers as his nose twitches, indicating a sneeze being on the way. With a quick reaction, Sunday turned over and hastily reached for a tissue and held it up to Misha’s nose, the younger boy reflexively sneezing into it and thanked the man with a nasally response of gratitude.
“..No need to thank me.” Sunday replied back in his usual curt manner, disposing the tissue away in the wastebasket.
There was an uncomfortable silence after.
“...”
“...”
“Sunday-”
“Ah! Yes?” The Halovian turns over with a different face than before, and this time exhibited one of alert consideration, but then quickly schooled his expression.
Taken back by the sudden mood switch, Misha flinched and coughed as he leaned back in the blanket of pillows behind him, head hurting and hot. “..I’m… I’m sorry.”
“..What?”
“I’m sorry..”
“For… What?” Sunday was appalled. What would Misha even be sorry for?!
Looking uncomfortable, Misha closed his dreary eyes and swallowed down the collection of saliva and snot in his throat. “For you know.. Burdening you with me being sick.. I’m sure you’d rather do something else-”
“Not necessarily.”
There was growing tension that was so palpable, you can just cut it with a fork and it’ll shatter like glass.
“..Actually, it should be me who should be apologizing for the grievances I’ve been giving you.” Sunday says rather seriously, but after seeing Misha’s horrified and nervous face he softened it.
“Ever since you have come to join us on The Express, I’ve been nothing but cold and distant to you. Realizing that now, which might be an inconsiderate time seeing how you’re ill, it wasn’t fair because you have done nothing wrong but just simply exist.”
Listening with a beating heart and sniffling, Misha seemed to tear up at hearing Sunday’s admission and nearly started to cry right then and there.
Or at least, that’s what he thought he heard Sunday say..
“You’ve done nothing but just exist. You’re part of Mikhail’s lineage and had a connection to him, so I couldn’t help but naturally act distant to you.”
“...”
For some reason when Sunday said that instead of what Misha thought he said in his head, the apology was more less of one, and was actually like Sunday saying it was partially Misha’s fault for being the way he is. And he couldn't help but feel a bit hurt after that thought.
“..oh.”
The silence grew even more, now that Misha had gone even more quiet than he was before, and Sunday more awkward. Though, when he sees Misha start to cry, he could only assume that his so-called “apology” wasn't the most helpful. Groaning into his hand as a headache began to form, Sunday looked to the side and turned off the lamp.
“..I..think you should rest now after you take this.” Sunday holds a medicine bottle from his pocket , just to make the awkward tension go away after his stellar apology. “A lot of things happened to you, and it would be beneficial to take this medicine and relax.”
Blinking, Misha sniffled and shuffled in the blanket burrito and didn't say anything. After all, how could he? It felt like he was getting stabbed in his fragile heart!! And also because his head was pounding. Though because of that reason, Misha decided against his pain and took the medicine offered to him by opening his mouth lazily and ignoring the cramps in his jaw.
Without question, Sunday shifts closer to Misha on the bed and slowly pours some of the medicine into the sick boy's mouth, careful not to pour too much and quickly so he doesn't choke. Wiping away a dribble of medicine on the corner of Misha mouth with his finger, Sunday closes the medicine bottle and stands up off the bed; he also brushes and smoothes the bedding and blankets to make sure Misha is warm, such actions were done unconsciously.
Turning to the lamp, Sunday grasps the little string; pausing first to look at Misha, to which he offers some water. “Would you like some water?” His voice is gentle despite his rather uncomfortable face. “The medicine would've tasted bitter, so you can wash it down if you'd like.”
The medicine was indeed bitter, but Misha couldn't bring himself to ask Sunday any favors, so he shook his head and turned away. “No, I’m alright; thank you Sunday.”
Not objecting to the rather flat response, Sunday nodded and pulled the string of the lamp to turn it off and walk out of his room. “Then rest well.” Opening the door in the now darkened bedroom, Sunday was careful to open the door and have it close not too loudly, and walked away in silent patter.
Since it was dark now and his cold, feverish body is being roasted inside of the mounds of blankets, Misha found sleep easy. His eyes were heavy anyway, and his body numb and shivering. As he slowly fell into dreamland, Misha felt his body subconsciously relax as it slipped into a dreamspace of creating images out of his imagination.
Images were being forced into his view, and Misha could only watch and be one with the landscape projected to him. It looked to be set in the dreamscape, where he was simply doing his duties around the hotel as the bellboy!
He was laughing and smiling during this time, since this would be around when he first meets Trailblazer and the rest of the lovely crew.
Even just as he was conversing to them and seeming to have true fun with them, his body suddenly feels heavy; before he knew it, Misha falls through the cracks of the floor as his weight was dragged down into the unknown, effectively causing his stomach to flip upside down and for him to scream in silence.
Body slamming into a hard floor, Misha wearily lifts his head to look around him, which was just a sea of black that gave the illusion of him not seeing anything at all. Shaking and numb, he forces his somewhat bruised body onto his feet and takes steps forward in curious dread.
There was utterly nothing around him. Nothing at all.
For what seemed to be forever, his aimless walking of dragging feet gives his mind the edge of going truly insane and manic. In a liminal, infinite space of pure blackness, anyone would go insane especially if it felt like they were walking for miles, but never even left the space they started on. Misha swallowed as his mind was at the breaking point of this madness.
This wasn't a dream nor nightmare, it was like he was stuck in the darkest depths of his mind!
Starting to nervously laugh that started to crack to reveal his rising insanity of being in a loop of his own, his body suddenly had energy that released him from the shackles of numbing pain, and Misha ran in what he thought was forward. It wasn't until a few seconds, or maybe a couple hours that his running concluded in running into a wall. Since it was so dark, he couldn't even tell there was anything solid!
Face and body being slammed, his kind reeled with dizziness as he fell back. Rubbing his head and legs in an exhausted caress, Misha blinked at what he had run into, only to find a reflection of himself. Like a mirror!
Only until he squinted a little bit till he noticed that his reflection was quite different from what he was used to. Misha looked like… well, Misha! But upon closer inspection, the ends of his limbs were fading away, and his joints looked to be lined with what looked to resemble parts of a puppet! Alarmed, Misha touched the mirror in front of him, fingertips on both sides touching before a stinging, burning pain transmitted into Misha's own.
Yelping in pain and retracting quickly, he looked down at his fingers, which now appeared cracked and broken off. Think of it like smashing a porcelain teapot on the ground.
Face ridden with horror and anxiety, he tried to scream in pain, but he couldn't because there really wasn't any pain for him to scream about. It was all in his head but everything was so real.
Looking from his decimated fingers and up to the black mirror in front of him, his expression of fear was not reflected in the face before him. In fact the reflection portrayed a smiling, serene Misha as it started to fall apart one limb at a time.
Beyond traumatized already, Misha just squeezed his eyes shut so he can just wake up from this nightmarish punishment. But then when he opened them again, he was met with another face that was both him, but not his own. Not recognizing it, it looked to be him but much older and charismatic.
Blinking rapidly as he holds his wrist as if preventing his entire arm from cracking and falling away, his breathing was hard and desperate for any air that was being stolen away in this suffocating liminal space.
Quickly realizing that the space was in fact actually losing oxygen somehow, Misha starts to panic as his breathing was loud like a frightened fish out of water. Releasing his arm as the cracks then traveled up his forearm without the blockade, Misha ignored it as he grabbed his throat and clenched his rumbling heart in a need for breath. And yet the reflection in the black mirror, the older version of himself just watched him suffer as Misha’s very body - his identity - breaks away from his own life.
Crying and sobbing as there is invisible pain all around his body, Misha screamed in no particular direction as if that would stop the pain.
Then it stopped. Only for the momentary break to be interrupted by a voice that echoed through his ears.
“...hurts doesn't it?”
Alarmed, Misha’s attention strayed away from the confusing situation, and looked around only to find the reflection speaking. “What?”
“Being alone.. And experiencing the horrors of life.”
“What are you… talking about?” Misha whispered in confusion, scooting his body closer to the mirror and resting his forehead against the surface.
“Haha, so naive you are. You truly are like myself..” The voice muses as a haughty laugh escapes and clowns in front of Misha. “Really though, does it hurt?”
Misha shook his head as he looked down on his body. It was broken and numb, but he wasn't in pain so he disagreed. “No. It doesn't." Yet he had a feeling that the male behind the mirror wasn't talking about physical pains.
“Silly child. I mean being alone. You are alone. Aren't you?”
The audacity!
Offended, Misha looked at the reflection with contempt and also fear that he was right. “What?! No! I have friends on the express! Like Dan Heng and Trailblazer! March 7th and then!!!”
“And Sunday. Right? Who knew out of all people he would become a trailblazer.. Even if it’s temporary.” The voice interrupted, causing Misha to look at him in confusion. A laugh escapes again.
“You seriously don't know who I am? Oh come on… I am you, you are me-”
“MIKHAIL!” Misha exclaimed in shock. How could he not notice?!! This was ridiculous. “But!”
“..Now do you understand? You know how lonely I was. You’ve seen it. And don't you ever feel like you’re alone on the Express too?” Mikhail whispered in an arrogantly quiet voice as if giving a therapeutic conversation. “Be honest.. You have this whole new life of your own.. But do you really think anyone truly cares and accepts you for the identity you created?”
“Do you believe that your wishes for Sunday to come around will come true? I mean, the man was always stubborn to his belief, and you are the embodiment of me. The one who he clashed with the most..”
“No matter how much pain either you and I go through.. We will always be alone. Whether it be us against the monster that plague the Dreamscape.. Or against the people we trust most only for them to abandon us later.”
“Isn’t that right?”
“Misha?”
Misha awakes suddenly.
With heavy breaths, his jaw was sore and his cheeks felt wet and cold. And there was a weighty presence beside him, in which he could only see a blurry image of a man in grey.
“Misha! Are you alright? What were you dreaming about?” A careful and highly concerned voice shouted in worry. It was Sunday!
After the whole fiasco within his dark, liminal space of a mind, Misha was not mentally prepared to come face to face with Sunday. And the words of Mikhail echoed in his mind as he tried to regain his composure.
“You were hyperventilating and sweating,” Sunday explained, to which Misha now notices that the blankets around his body were kicked off. “I had come to check on you so..”
“Do you believe that your wishes for Sunday to come around will come true?”
Misha blinked and clenched his eyes closed at the sudden reminder. Yet.. He couldn't bring himself to believe it. After all, Sunday said he had come to check on him right? Surely he is coming around!
“..Oh.. Thank you…” Misha muttered quietly, voice hoarse. Maybe he was screaming. Or it was all just an illusion. But it really did feel like that.
There was a pause between them as Sunday turned and stared at the wall in contemplation. Misha just laid on the sweat soaked sheets as his body shivered with heat and trembled with cold fever.
“..And you were also crying about… What was it.. Mikhail?” Sunday reveals softly, his voice gentle as his face was hardened as the name clawed out of his mouth. “What happened?”
Misha flinched at the mention, and swallowed. All of a sudden a rush of anxiety and nervousness spread throughout his body like a wave over soft sand that crushed beneath its strength and weight.
“...Nothing. I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it.” Misha whispers tearfully. It was true, he’d rather not talk about his time when he slept and went through it all.
“So be it..” Sunday mumbled, not convinced at all. He was still somewhat curious about what Misha had been dreaming about. “..Himeko has made you some tea.”
“What?”
“She made you some tea whenever you woke up.” He points to a red cup on the side table beside Misha’s head. “It was also a small apology for not being able to immediately contribute to caring for you. But she still wanted to show that she will always be here.”
“Ah, and Welt has also instructed you to take medicine every few hours so you’ll recover faster.
“And.. March 7th, Trailblazer, and Dan Heng had also contributed to this…” Sunday’s hand slips into his pocket and hands Misha a card.
The card had some polaroids of Peppy and candid photos of Misha and the group together. As well as a “Get Better Soon” stanza. How sweet!
Shocked by this, Misha looked at the card as he took in the care that his friends were giving him, even if they weren't physically here. “..What?” The shock still remained as Mikhail’s painfully foreboding words continued to haunt his consciousness.
But… He doesn’t seem lonely? Not anymore. In fact, Mikhail is wrong. There are people who truly care for him. Even if they left him physically for the time being, they made their presence known in his life!!
Misha couldn’t help but tear up as he listened to Sunday. “Thank you..”
“Don't thank me. Thank them instead.”
“No really. Thank you as well..!” Misha shook his head as he had a dry cough and a little sneeze. He sniffled snot up his nose. “For being here.”
Dumbfounded for once, Sunday blinked in shock and his face grew a bit warm. He turns away and presents his usual facade. “..No need. You are ill and need someone to take care of you. Nothing to thank me about.” But really, Sunday feels a warm emotional trill within his chest, similar to how he felt a couple years ago when he would care for Robin.
A small smile spread across Misha’s face. Suddenly, he feels his fever receding. Even if sicknesses don't work like that.
There was comfortable silence as Misha would crack out of his little blanket cocoon. He would drink the lukewarm, borderline cold tea Himeko made for him and made little laughs at the “get better soon!” card and took some more medicine. Ordered by Welt.
Even if these two had a complicated relationship with each other, just by Misha being sick really did show Sunday’s caring side. The man was attentive in his own way, even if it was him being a bit blunt and cynical. But that was just him being himself.
And before anyone knew it, Misha would recover from his fever. Good timing too, because when the members of the Express took Misha to see Bailu during a spontaneous trip to the Xianzhou Luofu, it was revealed that Misha’s immune system was...
Shit. Literal shit.
Pardon the language. And Misha would’ve been so close to going down under. Much to the Express Crew’s fear and made them all sigh in heavy relief that nothing truly horrible happened.
And ever since that day he recovered, and adding all the days of Misha’s recovery and sickness, his bond with the rest of the Express had strengthened, not weakened at all. Including Sunday, who showed a bit more warmth to him, and was more interactive and conversed with Misha frequently despite having the face of his old enemy. Maybe that’s all it took for Sunday to carefully handle and speak to Misha more gently. As if a younger sibling to him, their dynamic quickly changed to being one of fun and protective observation.
Not so lonely now huh Mikhail? In your face!