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The Astral Express hummed along the star rail. Akivili stood alone in the parlor car with a damp cloth in their hand. They were wiping down a table after finishing a small snack. Outside the window, the universe stretched on forever, stars scattered across the empty space. It was a peaceful moment, maybe too peaceful for someone who had spent their life seeking out new horizons.
Then, a glowing blue screen appeared right in front of their face.
URGENT MISSION
Time Limit: 00:29:58
Objective: Kiss Aha, the Aeon of Elation.
Failure: The Astral Express will explode.
Akivili froze. Their hand stopped, the cloth still pressed against the table. They blinked at the screen once, then twice. The timer kept counting down. 29:54. 29:53.
“What?” The word came out barely louder than a whisper.
They waved their hand through the screen, trying to make it go away. The screen stayed. They tried thinking it away, the same way they might tell the express to change direction. Nothing happened. The screen stayed exactly where it was, bright and harsh, counting down the seconds until their home—every car, every memory, every passenger—would be blown to pieces.
This had to be some kind of joke, a cruel one at that. But Akivili knew the system well enough after all their years of travel. It didn’t lie. If the screen said the express would explode, then it would explode, no matter how weird it seemed.
Their heart started pounding. Their mind raced through possible solutions. They could try to find the bomb, but they had no idea where it might be hidden among the express’ many cars. They could get everyone off the train, but there wasn’t enough time. Twenty-nine minutes wasn’t enough to save a train this big. And besides, the screen had already given them one clear, terrible solution.
Kiss Aha.
Aha. The Aeon of Elation. The masked fool who could turn tragedy into comedy, disaster into a show. The one who had once destroyed half a galaxy just to see the looks on people’s faces as their worlds ended. Aha was unpredictable like a wildfire, dangerous in the way that laughter could be dangerous when it came from the wrong source. And unfortunately, they were somewhere on this very train.
Akivili had invited them three days ago. Aha had shown up at the express’ door wearing a wide grin and carrying a suitcase filled entirely with whoopee cushions. At the time, Akivili had thought it would be fine. A short visit, a bit of harmless fun to break up the boring parts of star rail travel. Now, that fun had turned into a countdown timer threatening everything they cared about.
They ran. Through the parlor car, past the observation deck where starlight painted patterns across the walls, and down the narrow hallway to the guest rooms. The timer screen followed them like a shadow, stuck in the corner of their vision no matter where they looked. 27:12. 27:11.
“Aha!” Akivili called out, throwing doors open one after another. “Aha, where are you?”
No answer came, except for a faint laughter from the last room on the left. Akivili didn’t bother with the handle and just kicked the door open.
Aha was lying across the bed, one leg hanging off the edge as they tossed a rubber chicken in the air and caught it. Their mask covered their face, but their amusement was clear in the way their shoulders shook with silent laughter. They glanced up as Akivili burst in, catching the rubber chicken one last time.
“My Akivili!” Aha said, their voice warm and teasing. “You seem stressed. Want to see a card trick?”
“No,” said Akivili, still catching their breath from running through the express. They pointed at the glowing screen. “Did you do this?”
Aha tilted their head in confusion. The rubber chicken slipped from their hand and fell to the floor with a sad squeak. “Do what? I’ve been in this room for the past hour, playing with my chicken.”
“The system screen. The mission. The bomb.” Akivili’s words came out clipped.
Aha sat up slowly, taking their time despite how urgent things were. They looked at the screen for a long moment, then looked back at Akivili. Their smile, visible even through the mask, grew wider. “Oh. That. How interesting.”
“Interesting?” Akivili’s voice cracked. “The express is going to explode in twenty-six minutes if I don’t kiss you.”
A moment of silence passed. Then Aha laughed—delighted, like a child who had just found a fun new game.
“Well,” Aha said as they stood up, “then you should kiss me, my Akivili!”
They started walking toward Akivili, each step slow and calm, as if they had all the time in the world instead of just minutes. Akivili found themself stepping backward without thinking, their back hitting the cold wall. There was nowhere left to go.
“This isn’t funny,” Akivili said weakly.
“It’s a little funny,” said Aha, still coming closer.
“It’s not.”
Aha stopped just centimeters away. Even with the mask hiding their face, Akivili could feel their attention pressing down like a weight. Aha reached out with one hand, their fingers brushing across the timer on the glowing screen. 25:48. 25:47.
“The clock is ticking,” Aha whispered, their voice dropping lower. “And I’m standing right here. So what’s the problem?”
Heat rushed to Akivili’s face. Their hands started shaking. They had kissed people before in their long life, so that wasn’t what made them hesitate. The problem was that this was Aha, the Aeon who had once replaced every star in a constellation with plastic eyeballs just to see if anyone would notice, the Aeon who found humor in suffering and fun in chaos. Kissing Aha felt less like completing a mission and more like walking into a trap. But the other option was watching everything they loved turn to dust.
“Fine,” Akivili finally said through gritted teeth.
They reached out and grabbed Aha by their shirt collar, pulling them forward harder than necessary. The kiss was clumsy at first, with Akivili’s lips pressing hard against the lower half of Aha’s mask. Before that act, Aha just laughed and reached up to remove the mask themself. Underneath was a face that shifted and shimmered like water reflecting starlight, never settling into one fixed shape. But the smile stayed the same, always there no matter what features appeared.
Aha kissed back with an energy that caught Akivili off guard. One of their hands came up to cup the back of Akivili’s head, fingers threading through their silver strands. The other hand pressed flat against the wall beside Akivili’s shoulder, trapping them in. Aha leaned forward, and Akivili had nowhere to go. Their back was already against the wall, and Aha’s body was close enough that Akivili could feel the warmth coming from them.
This kiss was different from the first. That first one had been quick and mechanical. A mission objective to check off and nothing more. But Aha didn’t seem to believe in doing anything half-heartedly. They deepened the kiss slowly, carefully, and Akivili felt their knees start to weaken. A small sound escaped from their throat. Aha’s smile pressed against their lips, a curve they could feel rather than see.
“There we go,” Aha murmured against their mouth, barely audible. “That’s much better.”
Akivili tried to pull back and create space. “We did it. The timer should’ve stopped by now.”
They looked at the screen, hope rising in their chest. 23:15. The countdown kept going, completely unaffected.
“What?” Akivili pushed at Aha’s chest with both hands, trying to make space. “Why isn’t it stopping? We did what it said.”
Aha didn’t move. They just glanced at the screen with mild curiosity, then looked back at Akivili’s face. “Maybe you didn’t kiss me with enough…authenticity.”
“What does that even mean?” Akivili demanded, frustration creeping into their voice.
“Maybe it needs a real kiss,” Aha said, their voice dropping lower, sending a shiver down Akivili’s spine. “A genuine one. The kind that has meaning instead of just going through the motions.”
Akivili’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “This is a trick.”
“Is it?” Aha shrugged casually, their smile staying in place. “The screen’s instructions are clear. Kiss me. It just didn’t say how. So kiss me again, my Akivili. And this time, I suggest you don’t hold back.”
The timer showed 22:58 when Akivili made their decision. They reached out again, fingers curling into Aha’s shirt as they pulled them close. This time, they didn’t treat it like a task to complete, but they allow themself to relax into it, let their eyes close and let their hands move up from Aha’s chest to rest on their shoulders.
Aha made a pleased sound deep in their throat. Their hands moved from the wall to Akivili’s waist, fingers gripping as they pulled Akivili closer. The space between them vanished completely. Aha’s mortal form was taller and stronger, and they used that to tilt Akivili’s head back at an angle they wanted. They kissed Akivili with more depth than before, moving slowly as if they had infinite time instead of minutes running out.
Akivili’s mind went blank, their thoughts scattering. The timer disappeared. The mission faded away. The threat of the bomb became distant and unreal. There was only the heat of Aha’s mouth against theirs and the steady pressure of their hand at Akivili’s waist. Aha’s teeth caught Akivili’s lower lip gently, just enough pressure to make them gasp but not enough to hurt. Then Aha’s tongue followed, soothing the spot with tender attention.
When they finally broke apart, Akivili was breathing hard, their chest rising and falling. Heat had flooded their face, and they could feel that their lips were swollen from the kiss. With effort, they forced their eyes open and looked at the screen.
00:00.
The screen flickered once, twice, then changed.
MISSION COMPLETE
Thank you for your participation.
This message was brought to you by Aha, the Elation.
P.S. There was never a bomb. Lol.
Akivili stared at the words, their mind struggling to process what they were seeing. Their mouth fell open in pure shock. The screen dissolved into a shower of golden confetti that rained down onto the floor. Aha was laughing now, their whole body shaking, head thrown back in triumph.
“You,” Akivili said, their voice dangerously quiet despite the storm of emotions building in their chest.
“Me,” Aha agreed cheerfully, as if they hadn’t just put Akivili through almost half an hour of utter terror.
“There was never a bomb?” Akivili asked, needing to hear the answer said out loud.
“Nope!” Aha confirmed.
“The express was never in any danger of exploding?”
“Not even close. Not for a single moment.”
Akivili’s hands curled into fists at their sides, their knuckles white. A thousand angry words built up in their throat, each one competing to be said first. But before any of those words could escape, Aha stepped forward and reached up to tuck a strand of Akivili’s hair behind their ear, the gesture almost tender.
“But you kissed me,” Aha said softly, their voice losing some of its earlier teasing. “You kissed me twice, actually. And that second one, my Akivili. That kiss was genuine. That one was real.”
Akivili wanted to be furious. They really did. The desire for righteous anger burned in their chest. But Aha was looking at them with an expression that looked like affection, or something close to it. And the truth was that Akivili hadn’t completely hated the kiss, or hadn’t found it entirely unpleasant. That realization was, maybe, the worst part of this whole thing.
“You’re impossible,” Akivili said, the words lacking the heat they should’ve had.
“I know,” replied Aha.
“If you ever try something like this again, I will personally throw you off the express while we’re still traveling at full speed.”
“No, you won’t.” Aha’s grin returned in full force. “You’ve grown too fond of me to do that.”
Akivili opened their mouth to argue. Then, they closed it again without speaking, because somewhere in the back of their mind, they had to admit that Aha was right. That realization was, arguably, the second worst part.
Aha laughed again, bright and unrepentant, before throwing an arm around Akivili’s shoulders in a casual manner. “Come on, my Akivili! Let’s go to the observation deck and get something to drink. I’ll tell you the story of the time I convinced an entire planet that their moon was made of cheese.”
“That was your doing?” Akivili asked, a hint of disbelief in their voice.
“It certainly was,” Aha confirmed proudly.
Akivili let themself be guided out of the guest room, Aha’s arm still draped across their shoulders like it belonged there. The golden confetti continued to sparkle on the floor behind them. The Astral Express continued its journey, safe and whole and completely unbombed. And somewhere deep in their chest, Akivili felt something warm starting to grow. Something they weren’t quite ready to name or think about too closely.
They were in trouble, big trouble.
But as Aha gave their shoulder an affectionate squeeze and leaned in close to whisper a joke in their ear, Akivili found themself smiling. Just a little.