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“A hotel in Planarcadia?” Stelle asked, glancing up at Welt. “We’re not just staying on the Express?”
“Himeko and I discussed it. We think it’ll be easier to stay in a hotel than get off the Express every morning, especially not with our… fans crowding us.”
“Where are we staying? Oh my Aeons, is it going to be like one, big, happy Astral Express family sleepover?!”
Dan Heng pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess you could say that, March. But you’d better not keep the rest of us up.”
“I make no promises~”
The group ventured about Himeko’s home planet - March and Stelle were excited about trying Planarcadian snacks. They’d decided to stop by a coffee shop, only for Dan Heng to discover - much to his chagrin - that the coffee there was akin to Himeko’s: utterly unpalatable.
When Himeko looked away, Dan Heng poured it into a nearby plant. Foul. Drinking coffee such as this should be considered a form of punishment.
Cruel and unusual punishment.
They stopped by a convenience store - March eagerly grabbed a copy of The Fluffy, flipping through the pages and showing all of her fellow Trailblazers how they looked as animals.
“Look! Stelle is the baseball raccoon - so cute!! But March Bunny is the cutest, of course!”
Sunday didn’t appear in the series at all - which made sense, because he was technically a fugitive.
It was subtle, but Dan Heng noticed the slight tilt of his feathered wings: he was slightly upset, wishing he was included in the colorful comic book, too.
Dan Heng took the book from March’s hand, opening to the blank underside of the front cover, and doodled a cute little bird with a recognizable halo.
Sunday offered him a soft smile. March squealed.
“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute! GIve me the pen, give me the pen, I wanna add the rest of us-”
As Stelle and March bickered over the drawings (“You made my eyes too far apart!” Stelle was insisting; “It’s cute, stop arguing!” March argued back), Himeko sipped her “coffee” (it felt wrong to call that abomination by the name of such a wonderful beverage), and Welt was fixated on some mecha displays in a nearby store.
Dan Heng made eye contact with Sunday.
“...Thank you, Dan Heng. It’s… cute.”
“You’re cute,” came out of Dan Heng’s mouth before he could stop it, and he froze, trying to pretend he wasn’t as red as he felt. He coughed, cleared his throat, and turned away. Luckily, Stelle hadn’t overheard - she’d never let him hear the end of it if she had.
“Mr. Yang,” asked March, “are you interested in those figurines over there? The mechatrons?”
“They remind me of things from my youth-”
“He-he, Mr. Yang’s so old.”
“March!” Himeko scolded.
“She’s not wrong.” Welt pushed his glasses further up on his nose with a subtle smile.
“We can go take a look,” Himeko offered, downing the last sip of her… ‘coffee.’
“It’s no big deal,” said Welt, but he was already walking towards the window.
They spent a few minutes admiring the figurines - Welt was explaining all of the little details to them, and it was interesting to see their usually-reserved guardian so animated and excited.
Dan Heng checked the time. “It’s getting late. Should we head to dinner and then check in at our hotel, or…?”
“Dan Heng, it’s barely 18:00! What’s ‘late’ to you? 20:00? Are you old like Mr. Yang?” March teased.
“I mean late for dinner,” he clarified, “And hey, I’m not old!”
“Old,” coughed Stelle.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, just a cough, Dannie~”
“Hmph.”
They decided on a restaurant advertising “the happiest food in Planarcadia” (whatever that meant), and Himeko explained the different food items to them. Half of it didn’t quite sound like food, but the other half sounded normal enough. Dan Heng settled on a pasta dish- basic, he knew, but something basic sounded better than something made with “Aha’s laughter.” What did that even entail? Stelle branched out, ordering a “Cold Joke,” which turned out to be an ice cube with smiley faces that she said tasted like “rainbows and chicken nuggets.” March got some Fluffy-inspired treat - a baseball bat shaped… thing that was apparently “pleasantly lemony.” Dan Heng, Himeko, Welt, and Sunday stuck with more predictable foods - pizza, pasta, the like.
Dan Heng still refused to look at Sunday, the memory of accidentally calling him “cute” earlier too fresh in his mind. He wasn’t sure he could look at the other man with a straight face.
He couldn’t avoid looking at Sunday forever, though. Dan Heng looked at him, pleased to note that Sunday didn’t seem embarrassed. The other only looked a bit confused about why Dan Heng was staring at him.
“...want to try mine?” he offered.
The rest of their meal was amicable, the earlier (one-sided) tension between Dan Heng and Sunday completely gone. March ordered dessert to share, a weird fruity amalgamation that no one had actually ended up liking.
Himeko yawned. “Ah… I’m stuffed. Ready to check in and get some rest?”
“Yes to the first part, no to the second! March and I are going to stay up alllll night!” Stelle replied eagerly with a mischievous glimmer in her eye. March nodded in agreement.
“If you’re tired tomorrow, don’t blame me,” sighed Welt. “And don’t keep up Sunday or Dan Heng.”
“Are we sharing a room?” asked Sunday.
“Mm,” Himeko affirmed. “Welt and I will share one room, and you four will have the other. Six rooms felt excessive, it’s not like the express has that kind of budget. There should be plenty of space… booking a room on the website was confusing, but I think Welt and I handled everything.”
“Old,” coughed Stelle, again.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
The group followed Himeko as they went to their hotel, trying their best not to get mobbed by their overexcited fans. Himeko ducked into a back alley to avoid the calls of “Himekat! It’s Navigator Himekat and the rest of The Fluffy’s crew!”
March and Stelle didn’t seem to mind the attention, but it made Dan Heng feel awkward, and he could tell that Sunday felt uncomfortable too - especially because he was trying to keep his identity and whereabouts a secret.
Eventually, they reached their destination (with minimal impromptu fan meet-and-greets) and entered the hotel. It looked nice enough both outside and inside, although Dan Heng felt like they had spun a roulette wheel when deciding which colors to use and where they should use them.
The young woman working at the front desk glanced up as they walked in.
“Did you book in advance?”
“Yes. Should be under ‘Murata Himeko’?”
“Ah, yes. Oh, you’re the Na-”
“Don’t… say that out loud, please. I wouldn’t like to draw too much attention to ourselves.”
“Alright. Pleased to have you. You’ve got rooms 402 and 404. I hope you have a truly elating vacation, and happy Phantasmoon Games!” She handed Himeko the room key for 402 and Dan Heng the room key for 404.
They took the elevator up to the fourth floor.
“Hotels… I sure don’t have great memories from hotels! Remember that time in Belebog where they ambushed us? And Penacony…”
Sunday shuddered.
“Sorry, Sunny,” said Stelle. “My bad.”
Himeko turned the key of room 402, and entered alongside Welt.
“Don’t keep each other up too late, don’t cause problems for anyone else, and don’t destroy anything. See you in the morning,” said Welt sternly.
Himeko closed the door and locked it. Dan Heng opened the door to their own room.
“Wow! It’s like a rainbow threw up in here!” March remarked, eyeing the bright colors of pretty much every surface in the room. “Is this ‘elating’? My eyes hurt.”
Sunday’s attention was on something else. “...guys. Look.”
“At the colors? I’m good, maybe if I close my eyes- ohmygods there’s only two beds.” Stelle was right. There were indeed only two beds - both rather small. There was no couch in sight that one of them could sleep on.
“March and I call the one near the door!!”
“We do? Okay, sure! Stelle and I call the one near the door! Ahhh, it’s just like a super-fun sleepover party!!”
“I’m gonna go put on my pajamas!!” Stelle announced to no one in particular, slipping into the bathroom.
“Oh, me too, me too!” March followed her. The room suddenly felt very small and very, very quiet.
Sunday looked at Dan Heng. Dan Heng looked at Sunday. Both looked at the very small bed they were to share.
“Uh….”
“Ummm…”
“...”
“So… I guess we’re… sharing, huh?” Sunday’s voice came out soft and shaky, unusually hesitant.
“Yeah, I … I guess so.”
Dan Heng stared at the wall, then, deciding that the colors hurt too much, tried the floor. Everything was too bright. He settled for closing his eyes.
“We should… probably change into our nightclothes too, huh?” Sunday suggested, unusually flushed. “Um… just look away. Please?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course-” Dan Heng’s eyes were still closed. Eventually, he heard Sunday speak again.
“I’m all done. Now you?”
Dan Heng opened his eyes reluctantly, gathering his pajamas from his suitcase and slipping them on. Seeing Sunday in casual wear was… weird. March and Stelle would often wander about the express in pajamas - or occasionally nothing but their undergarments - so it was nothing new to him when they emerged from the bathroom, giggling, dressed in cute pastels. March donned a matching pink-and-blue pajama set, and Stelle wore an oversized tee with a raccoon on it. March’s hair was tied back in a messy ponytail; Stelle’s was down as usual.
Sunday, on the other hand, looked a bit… out of place. He wore silken pajamas in a light silvery-blue color that nearly matched his hair.
March tossed her clothes across the room (normally Dan Heng would have minded, but it helped cover the atrociously neon hues of the carpet, so he forgave her this time) and leaped onto the bed she had agreed to share with Stelle. Within moments, they were whispering and giggling like little girls at a sleepover.
Which, they were, more or less.
Sunday sat down tentatively on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the little white bow on the collar of his pajamas.
It was at this point that Dan Heng remembered that he usually slept shirtless.
He sat down next to Sunday, praying that his face wasn’t red (and if it was, that Sunday wouldn’t notice).
“Sunday, do you care if I take my shirt off?”
“Um, yeah, yeah, that’s- that’s fine.”
Dan Heng pulled it off and tossed it aside, feeling awkward about the whole situation. He hoped Sunday wasn’t uncomfortable.
“Uh… good night, Sunday,” he said quietly, laying down. Sunday gave a “mm,” of agreement and laid down next to him.
It was awkward. The room was silent (March and Stelle talked a big game, but neither of them were actually able to stay up all night talking, and both were already asleep) except for the soft sound of Sunday’s breathing.
They were close.
Really close.
Really, really close.
Sunday’s back was pressed against Dan Heng’s, his feathery wings brushing against Dan Heng’s ears whenever he moved slightly (since there was only one large pillow instead of two smaller ones). Dan Heng could feel Sunday’s every breath and was suddenly very aware of two things:
One, he was shirtless, in bed, with someone else.
And two, that he didn’t actually know Sunday very well - he knew a little, of course, but not as much as he did about the other Express members. If it had been March or Stelle, it wouldn’t have been nearly as awkward, right?
There was no other reason it felt more intimate with Sunday.
An hour passed. Dan Heng was still awake, exhausted but unable to sleep. He suspected that Sunday was in a similar position.
Another hour passed and Dan Heng remained restless. He didn’t want to move and disturb Sunday, who had fallen into an uneasy sleep.
Another hour. Dan Heng lay awake, staring at the ceiling (that, too, was colorful).
He glanced over at Sunday. The other’s face was pallid and sweaty, and he trembled slightly. Nightmare? Dan Heng had faced his share of nightmares in the past, and even now would have them occasionally. Sunday, he supposed, must have them more frequently.
“...Sunday,” he whispered, turning onto his side and nudging the other man. His eyes fluttered open and he let out a soft gasp.
“Where am I- who are you-” he took a deep breath. “Dan Heng…? Right, we were in Planarcadia…”
“Yeah. You alright?’
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a… bad dream.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Dan Heng stood up, remembering how Welt had helped with his nightmares when he’d first joined the Express Crew, and ventured into the bathroom for a glass of water. He returned shortly, offering the water to Sunday.
“...Thank you, Dan Heng.”
“Mm.”
Sunday took a sip of the water, his breathing steadier now.
“...I dreamed about Robin,” he said quietly, despite having not wanted to talk about it earlier. “I hope she’s doing alright out there…”
“I’m sure she is. She’s strong.”
Sunday shifted, sitting fully upright now.
“...come closer?”
Dan Heng sat down next to him on the small bed. Their shoulders brushed, and Dan Heng remembered he was shirtless.
“You… um… don’t mind, do you…?”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
Sunday rested his head on Dan Heng’s shoulder.
“Did you get any sleep? I didn’t keep you awake, did I?”
“...no, I didn’t. It wasn’t really… you. It was just… awkward.”
“...yeah.”
It wasn’t awkward at the moment, with Sunday using Dan Heng’s shoulder as a pillow. So why was it so different laying down..? Was it simply the fact that he had been trying to sleep?
Sunday rubbed at his eyes drowsily.
“Sorry for keeping you up.”
“It wasn’t really your fault. Try to go back to sleep.”
Sunday laid back down, resting his head on their shared pillow.
“What about you?”
“I… yeah, all right.”
Dan Heng did the same. It didn’t feel as weird as it had earlier, but it was still uncomfortable - neither of them had any personal space.
Sunday shifted a little bit closer to Dan Heng, not wanting his arms or legs dangling off the bed. Dan Heng felt his face grow a little warm at the gesture, but he found - surprisingly - that he didn’t mind.
Dan Heng hesitantly let his arm snake around Sunday’s slim waist, pulling him a little closer. Sunday let out a soft, surprised noise, but didn’t protest or try to pull away. On the contrary, he leaned in, resting his head on Dan Heng’s chest.
His bare chest.
Dan Heng was suddenly glad for the relative darkness of the room, because he knew that his face must be the color of Himeko’s hair by now.
“S-sorry, should I have-”
“N-no, it’s fine. You just surprised me, that's all.”
Dan Heng’s fingers came to rest in Sunday’s hair, then traveled down to his little wings- the feathers were soft and well-groomed, as it turned out. Sunday didn’t seem to mind.
The two settled into a more comfortable position. Sunday was warm and smelled faintly sweet, like soap or maybe some sort of mild cologne.
Dan Heng’s eyelids started to droop. He was sleepier now that he was more comfortable and warmer. It felt… surprisingly nice, to have Sunday curled up against him like this.
“Night, Sunday,” he mumbled.
“Mmm,” he heard the other agree, and promptly fell asleep.
~~~
“Wake up, sleepyheads~! We’ve got stuff to do today!” March poked Dan Heng’s shoulder, vibrating with energy. He opened one eye blearily and discovered that she was fully dressed already.
“Oh~?!” She covered her mouth eagerly with one hand. “Dan Heng, did you two-?!”
“No, March. It was just… the most comfortable sleeping arrangement, that’s all.”
She squealed. “Sure, whatever you say!”
“If we had, ahem, done… what you’re implying, Miss March, you would have heard,” added Sunday, whom Dan Heng hadn’t realized was awake.
“Probably, yeah. Now c’mooon, get up, get ready!”
She tugged on Dan Heng’s hand, pulling him partially out of bed, and he carefully untangled himself from Sunday before he got to his feet.
March dragged them (and Stelle, of course) out as soon as they were all ready, and they met up with Welt and Himeko.
Planarcadia didn’t seem so bad, so far.