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It’s quiet aboard the Express, for once.
Not really though, the voices of the other passengers and guests echo, the tap of footsteps and machinery, the distant shake of a drink being mixed idly, a bubbling kettle. None of it reaches here, not tonight.
The only noise that dared become the ambience of this space was the soft creak of a model planet, the ripple of its ring and the faint flutter of loose photographs.
This room, unlike its regular state of warm familiarity to her, was dark. Only the soft glow of stars filtering through the tinted window, further obfuscated by the pale blue curtains. March’s room wasn’t exactly what her own choice would have been, but she hardly minded.
She was here for March.
March, her Dearest March ♭. She had been crying when she cracked a metaphorical eye open.
Of course she woke up, such transgressions would eventually be tied and snipped at the root. Tossed out with the rest of the weeds. She would find who made her Dearest cry.
Now, Evernight finished stepping out of the reflection, a boot splashing into the tears over the deck plates. March sat against the wall, silent, knees to her chest and hair tussled in a most irritating way.
She was the least qualified to help any other person in the vast cosmos, but this one light was her thesis, known in and out.
“Dearest March… ♭ “
The constricted crying hitched. March audibly gasped, continuing to cry more loudly.
“… March. ♭”
Evernight dropped to a squat, slowly lowering to her knees, still taller than the slouched and balled March. It hurt. It hurt so much. She hated this, hated when March found trouble. She hated when it was trouble she couldn’t stomp and tear until March was safe. She hated how March’s friends would be able to fix this better than she, and hated more that they dared be better at her in this small way.
She shuffled closer, her knees bumping the ends of March’s shoes. This definitely got March’s attention, confusion and no small amount of fear.
“Eve- what? How are you-? You touched- what?”
Evernight brushed it aside, sliding her right hand from where it had been supporting her bent posture to take one of March’s. Bringing it away from her muddled eyeliner, four fingers laced with her Dearest’s while her thumb wiped the worst of it.
March had stopped crying, shock and confusion stunning her. The expression would have been amusing if it did not quickly devolve into more wrenching sobs. Evernight’s faint sense of satisfaction draining with it, she smothered the urge to demand a cause for March’s distress. It would only make March- in all her wonderfully distinct compassion- refuse to let Evernight handle the origin.
“I know- I’m-… March… ♭ “
She raised her occupied hand to extricate it and better clean March’s muddied appearance.
Five faintly painful stabbing pricks caused Evernight to flex her fingers involuntarily, finally breaking her iron stare into March’s eyes to glance at her hand. March continued to cry, her shoulders shook slightly.
Evernight’s pain was caused by March’s fingers, she had clutched at the retreating palm so violently that four small beads of blood formed against Evernight’s corpse pale skin, right between the knuckles of her digits, like faintly curved string lights on street poles, connecting her knuckles. March’s thumb had failed to inflict such superficial marks, instead digging into the skin and webbing between Evernight’s hand and thumb.
Evernight turned her head to resume her careful exploration of her Dearest’s eyes. Every tear, every sob, every shake of her shoulders made Evernight want to twitch. It made her want to do so, so much. She hated this compulsion, she knew it was- in all logical ways- her own nature of being, she was little else, obsession.
She raised her unmarred left hand to palm March’s right cheek, she watched in flat fascination when March opened her eyes- still crying- to meet Evernight’s maroon stare.
Evernight decided that this glance would be cherished, not as some other memories would be for her, not the laughter of reunions she hadn’t actually been a part of- not the fixation she placed on the drunken grin March had flashed at her friends once at a party, one she had only been given the grace to remember because of the warped reflection of the glass being dangerously waved around- no. None of those, she would remember this to pay back those who caused it, and because…
Because those Irises.
True purple almost deep enough to mix with the lashes and liner above it, fading into a plush violet, to an amethyst- then a lilac that cast the contours of her darker blackberry pupils. All outshone by near white teal pooling at the very bottom of her Dearest’s pallet, for that was truly what it was, March took photos based on what she saw as worthy of being photographed, making her eyes the pallet that her beloved camera drew from. But by far the colour Evernight loved the most, the seafoam blue that made the rest of that opposing transition of white to blue
March mumbled again- mostly indistinct through her spiral-
“Eve… Eve?”
She blinked slightly, coming back to the rest of the room.
“Of course. ♭ “
March opened her mouth to say something- Evernight wouldn’t have heard it anyhow, already trying to stay in the present and not fixate again- but she sobbed instead. A line of tears continued to drip down March’s left cheek, the hand that had been trying to soothe it now in jagged poise between them, four small trails of red dripping down Evernight’s arm, pooling as they fell off her elbow. It felt good.
March’s other line of tears flowed too, tracing where Evernight’s left hand pressed to her, a thumb numbly wiping the streaks of black that marred her perfect image. Still, they fell, not joining the other waterway at March’s chin, but at Evernight’s wrist. It still wasn’t enough. Evernight didn’t feel any lack of something she needed to do, she felt a lightness in her chest, a compelling force that needed, just, needed, to stop this.
She leant towards March, one leg knocking March’s hunched knees away from their post, Evernight would do a far better job than them.
Her Dearest March’s crying didn’t falter, but the shaking did lessen as March payed more attention to the physical world. Evernight pushed her reddened hand forward, pushed March’s hand forward until her fingers relaxed their staking.
Evernight kept leaning in, the hand on March’s cheek trailed a feather like path down to loop under her arm, gently pulling March off the wall. She pressed March’s left hand onto the wall, her fierce grip matched by Evernight now, pale knuckles pressed into the bulkhead as March’s fingers faced to the open air.
It was so, so loud. For such a quiet, quiet room.
Evernight tugged March around, enough to sit against the wall herself.
She shifted the crying young woman again. The back of March’s knees rested the peak of their formed triangle on Evernight’s legs now. March sobbed all the louder for it.
Evernight would have wondered if she had worsened this, but the clogged unhappiness radiating through them March didn’t continue to pound at Evernight’s skull, it stopped building and started to settle. Like water in an overflowing bottle.
“March… ♭ “
March shook again with a sound Evernight hoped she wouldn’t commit to memory.
She had squeezed her eyes shut at some stage of Evernight’s careful reorientation, a shame, even while crying they had been unhelpfully distracting.
March jerked again, she gasped and exhaled with such a shudder that Evernight was sure her fingers twitched and clenched against March’s back. She would do anything, anything at all, to make that sound stop.
She pulled her right hand towards herself, supporting March’s weight with the arm against her spine. She ignored the surprised and indignant half sob – half cough as March was flipped over to lay on Evernight. She didn’t give her time to seize her hand again as she slipped it free, pressing March to her with both arms.
March was… March didn’t know. Confused. Horrible. Tired. Scared. More scared, partially of the same woman she was found herself being comforted by.
Evernight had… agreed, for all intents and purposes, that they couldn’t coexist, March disagreed back then and still did. So- she truly did panic when the figure that had done so much she hadn’t wanted it to, hadn’t wanted anyone to do. Much less do for her. When she had appeared, she expected her to be wielding some form of blade, demanding to know who she was to find and blatantly murder.
It was strange- to say the least- when Evernight had touched her. She had appeared before, mirrors, her thoughts, all shared mediums really. But- she had touched her. There wasn’t any static shock or anything, but- it truly scared her.
In hindsight. It shouldn’t have.
Evernight would never hurt her, at least not in any way Evernight thought of hurt. She had taken great care to avoid hurting her, even her friends to an extent.
March eventually gave in. The crushing, invisible weight upon her head winning. She let her neck relax, her nose above Evernight’s collarbone, her forehead against the side of Evernight’s throat… She tried not to flinch at the cold.
She certainly did flinch when Evernight rested her face in March’s hair.
Her chest hurt.
Her eyes were sore.
Her voice ached.
Her knees were smarting.
Her back was warm.
Her head was cradled.
Arms were around her.
It was too much.
Evernight internally cringed as March’s crying became a whole body shake, warm breath erratically fluttered at her collar.
She didn’t complain a bit as a particularly heavy sob jolted March’s head into her nose painfully.
The lines of blood still trailing down her hand were starting to drip onto March’s attire- nothing to be done, for now. Each shake of her charge was matched by a disturbed quartet of red droplets.
The beating heart of the Astral Express was an earthy thrum underfoot, yet still, it felt so light, so inconsequential in the face of the other heart she held. And by all her power, she would hold it, whether March wanted her to or not. She wasn’t going to let anyone else hold this one.
She hugged March closer. It wouldn’t ever feel close enough for Evernight, even when she had March’s body, it was never enough. She wished she could do more than silence the outside world from this room, do more than flick the lights off and hold her Dear March close.
Evernight drew circles with her good hand on March’s back. Even as the sobs faded and the quiet of two breathing cycles filled the room, eventually evening to mirror eachothers lungs.
Evernight closed her eyes, her attention undivided as she felt March’s heart rate slowly wind its way down to her own. She waited until they were in parallel, matched, perfect- no. March was already perfect, she didn’t need Evernight for that.
Evernight wanted her to need her for that.
She wondered, feared, if she would see Evernight when she relaxed her squeezed shut eyes. Wondered if it would have been Stelle all along. It wasn’t anticipation.
Would it be better if it were Stelle? Would it?
If this were real, Evernight would have lied, wouldn’t have become her subconscious, part of her, at all.
Would that be so bad? ♭
She bit the inside of her lip as Evernight whispered into her thoughts. Whispering her response in her spent voice.
“how?”
“I don’t care. ♭ “
She cracked an eye open, taking in the neck she had been crying into, the shoulder she was resting on. It was white, a pale that she knew Stelle didn’t have, not even in the dark of a sleepover or the comforting arms after a particularly bad nightmare.
“What do you m- mean you don’t care? You don’t know?”
Nothing, she felt the head atop hers shift, a sigh against her scalp.
“You’re tired, Dearest March… ♭ “
The way March could hear that emphasised ‘D’earest made her shiver, she had missed hearing Evernight’s voice, so similar to her own, so much more scathing in its inflection.
“You should get to bed, March ♭ “
She lent back, staring at the maroon vastness staring back, the only colour other than star-bathed pink and grey deck plating behind her in the room. It was… distinctly otherly, so- different than how she remembered that look, it had been playful- it still was- but now, it was searching, like Evernight thought she could find the problem in the way March looked at her and take it away.
Evernight sat up from against the wall, gently rising to tug March up after her. Not wasting the opertunity to brush her other’s appearance down, wiping a little more at her face. She resisted a smile as March lent backward to avoid the dabbing thumbs.
She coached March backwards, eventually forcing her to sit on her bed.
She allowed herself to finally- finally give in.
Evernight was glaring at her. March felt all her doubts return, fear clenching at the edge of the mattress.
“Eve? Did I-”
“No, never, March. ♭ “
The ever present inflection, that flat ending to most of her sentences, somehow it felt different when she said her name.
Evernight bent over her slightly, crimson matching to her pink and blue.
“Tell me why, or promise you’ll have someone get rid of it for me. ♭ “
March blinked, she hadn’t expected the easy out handed to her.
“… I- I promise”
零
“Good. ♭ “
Evernight crashed into her, almost rolling March over. She yelped in suprise- this was truly out of character for Eve, especially given how she had been glaring. If March didn’t know better- she’d have thought she was being lunged at.
“You are far- far too much trouble for yourself. I return to awareness and you’ve almost always done something stupid.”
Evernight had spoken with a lilt, almost, almost a rush in her words. March began laughing.
While the precious laughter was beyond appreciated, it was unmatched to the situation. Evernight was slightly puzzled to say the least.
“Why are you laughing? ♭ “
“You- n-nevermind-”
March continued to laugh, and- well, she wasn’t opposed.
She was never opposed. She hugged March close, lifting the edge of the blanket and throwing it to fan unevenly over them. Evernight tugged March’s head to her collar, ignored the hiss of complaint as her freezing cold feet brushed March’s leg. She couldn’t care much.
She held her other tenderly, there was no other way she could imagine holding her. She forever felt as if March were both fragile and so much stronger than herself. The other girl had been through… a lot, a lot that Evernight didn’t know she would’ve been able to handle if she had been at March’s ability at the time.
She strained to stay awake long after March fell asleep. She didn’t know if she would return to her half slumber at the gates of her precious charge’s mind and vanish from this more tangible reality. She didn’t want to risk letting March go. She spent those hours memorising the feeling of familiar hair pressed to her chin, breath on her chest, hands clasped around her sides, legs tangled in hers, how it felt to twist her hands in March’s shirt…
As her eyes grew dangerously heavy, Evernight reached a hand to March’s hair and ruffled it lightly, the exhausted girl didn’t wake.
She pressed a kiss to her Dearest’s head, fighting hard to stay just a bit longer.
Apparently, sleep fought hard too.
March opened an eye, her room was bright again, no longer brisk and chilled. She felt cold despite the warm covers. Disappointment gripped her, she spoke deflatedly to the ceiling.
“… One hell of a dream, huh.”
She rolled onto her side to get out of bed, blearily glancing around her room.
A small stain of blood marred the otherwise perfect floor.
March smiled all morning.
No reason why.