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“What does it mean to be free?” The night had dimmed the light of a man, a man whose sun had faded. His eyes locked onto the moonlit night, as the echoes of his cries, and the question therein lies remained unanswered. A man who had wholly, and utterly lost himself in the price of his own reckless dream.
The man who had called himself Sunday. The bird who had not yet flown from his cage, the cage that was the price for his own reckless gamble. To think back to the past, where his happiness resided—was too painful for him to bear. So all he could do for the world was to ask a question. A question for those above himself. To the full constellations that surrounded the morally bankrupt, and those with a great abundance of morality.
That was until the sound of footsteps echoed from down the hall of the train, his ears perked up the wings at the side of his head pardoned themselves from concealing his tear filled faculties. He hurriedly wiped the water from his face, standing abruptly from his chair. His hand landed on piano keys, causing a blare so harsh that not even the deaf would be pardoned from such a disturbance.
What a farce, it would only take a couple minutes to have been more careful…Causing such a ruckus on his first day on the astral express, he ought to be thrown out where he stood! Sunday stood up abruptly, head snapping towards the sounds, bracing himself for correction.
That was when the door opened, “March, Caelus, I’ve told you that you cannot!—…Sunday?” It was Dan heng, one such victim of my own precipitous actions, and my failure. He couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Out of everyone on this train that he could disturb, it was the most striking member of the express. “Ah…Dan heng, Uhm…. I apologize for the disturbance…I’ll be more attentive, next time. I assure you.” Sunday couldn’t help but move his eyes towards those luminous eyes of the man in front him.
Apologies could appear for bluff, and he didn’t want to seem insincere towards a member of a faction that he had wronged before. He sighed inwardly, before his eyes met the other. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem bothered by his uncouth display. Dan Heng lightly tensed, his eyes scanning him up and down before his apprehension seemed to disperse. The man moved closer to him, eyes landing on the piano .
“Fantaisie impromptu…” Dan Heng murmured. Sunday helped but widened his eyes. Under the high of his own curiosity, he blurted out— “you’re…familiar with this piece?” Before he could stop himself. Dan Heng nodded, a moment of silence passing before he acted with great enthusiasm displayed behind his intention.
He sat down onto the piano chair, his fingers moving along the keys with familiarity, before he started to play. And the familiar melody that brought him to the edge of his fantasy’s reality had graced his ears once more…only— he wasn’t the one playing. The wings lightly swaying with every note, a smile had slowly begun to materialize on his lips. Sunday felt breathless….
It was a childish recollection, to fantasize about the days where he, and his sister were joined at the hip. Where he had not known misery, where suffering was far from where he stood. The last time another had played for him like this, was when his sister had been by his side. Though, the way this man played it was different. It was most certainly more pained in its interpretation, like a dream, destined to end.
Sunday wished that those moments would stay, after all, they were beautiful. Dan Heng was beautiful. Though he’d never say such nonsense out loud, in his mind, he could. So even if this moment would end, even if the beauty of another man’s piece would end with time— there was still worth knowing that it had happened. That he had witnessed this beauty with his own eyes…
That was what made moments like this, beautiful. Wasn’t it? How had he not seen it before? How had he spent so much time being a caged bird? How long will the marks of those shackles remain on him, until it finally dissipates?
“Ah…Uhm…” Dan Heng looked at him, awkwardly. “Don’t worry, you need not act so furtively…Playing the piano is hardly a great offense, it is akin to an error at best.” Dan Heng spoke. His tone was quite imperious, though he couldn’t judge…He himself had acted egregiously imperious before he had been humbled.
“As I said, you don’t need to act furtively. Something's bothering you, I assume.” Dan Heng glanced at his expression, “it’s quite obvious that you’ve been crying…” Dan Heng gestured to Sunday's robes, still soaked with the tears he shed earlier.
Sunday felt taken aback, he hadn’t expected to be called out by his man’s meticulous observation. Then again, surprises had graced him at every turn—another one wouldn’t hurt. Though he was hesitant, it was no hard question to answer. “…”
“I was just troubled, with the amount of time I spent…there, is all” He murmured. He felt the other man’s scrutinizing gaze befalling upon him, he was bracing himself for the coming moment, whatever answer given would not be enough to satiate his needs either way. After all, even the question itself seemed to terrify him.
The silence that came was much longer, the tension suffocating him. Like a chain around his neck, dragging him back to the cold destitute darkness of his prison. That prison of his own making.
“Don’t dwell on the past.” The words brought him back from reality, eyes flicking to the other man’s gaze.
“Be glad you didn’t spend another lifetime in that gilded cage, you are not the prisoner of yesterday you imagine. There’s no use torturing yourself over the shackles that once held you—“
“You are free from them today, that is all that matters”
It was a ridiculous statement born either from arrogant presumption and ignorance, or an observation and wisdom. Nevertheless, Sunday had not expected such a simple statement to evoke such a stir in his own heart. “…I see, it seems you’re very knowledgeable on such topics sir Dan Heng.”
Dan Heng paused, before nodding his head lightly— standing up with a pep in his step. “Not as much as you seem to assume, Mr. Sunday, I couldn’t possibly be as fruitful as you.”
“You flatter me, ” What a mediocre answer, Sunday felt himself dissapointed in his own lack of response. Given the comfort that this man stepped out of just to console him on this quiet night, the heart beating inside him could not tolerate his own cowardice— Nor could it stop itself from beating. Why was it that these feelings of sorrow that had trapped him— had dissolved into nothingness the moment those words had pierced through his heart? So…so thoroughly as well…
“Seeing as you’re feeling better now, I believe I have the right to leave.” Dan Heng rubbed his eyes, already retreating “If you so choose to, you can stay up, just do not continue the ruckus. I have a low tolerance for repeated errors.” There was a sarcastically satirical edge towards the end, that nearly broke Sunday's composure.
Huh. So this is what it meant, to feel peace, the winged man did not take himself to be someone who could enjoy such a disrespectful answer, but…It was still welcome. “Oh ye of little faith, I would not. I apologize again for disturbing your slumber.”
Dan Heng nodded, as the door shut behind him. Leaving the man alone in the express lounge, piano glistening. Sunday turned to the night sky, the constellations shining a bit brighter than before.
The rest of the night passed by like a blur, emotions he’d never felt before materializing in his being, his thoughts cloudy. Beyond popular belief, Sunday wasn’t exactly a holy priest with the purest of thoughts, he himself has felt attraction before. Being frank, he’d be able to discern why he felt his face heat up at the thought of that man.
He wasn’t foolish, nor ignorant, he had enough wisdom for the subject matter Even though he knew that, it still felt unusual. To think that a few simple words were enough to capture his heart?…haah, it didn’t matter. These feelings must not get in the way of his goal.
He must never act upon it, right?…
_____
“Ah, wait!— I'm sorry for the trouble I’m causing you, Caelus—but…perhaps, do you know what type of dessert he likes the most?…And does he have any allergies?” Sunday asked, a book held close to his heart.
“Eh?” Caelus looked up from his phone, a lazy expression on his face as he tilted his head in confusion . “You mean Dan Heng?”
“Ah…yes, precisely…” Sunday replied, awkwardly.
Caelus raised his eyebrow, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. He put the phone down,
Spreading his legs as he rested his face on his arm “Why are you asking?~”
“Just curious.” Sunday cut in. “I simply wish to know.”
“Uh huh…Sure….” Caelus nodded, he didn’t believe Sunday for one bit.
“Well, first off Dan he’s not really one for food— Any desert would work, but if you wanna give him a drink, try giving him green tea. He’s not one for gifts but he likes reading, aka his type is someone as…mature, and uh…mysterious as he is. Preferably someone with an…”
“Alter ego?” Caelus winked.
Sunday was stunned speechless, he had forgotten to write it down because of how egregiously fast Caelus was reciting information. A few moments of silence passed, before Sunday spoke again “…Why would you give me so much information?…” Eyes blinking with the absurdity of the raccoons words.
“Oh it’s because I don’t have patience for a slow burn.”
Sunday paused.