Archive of Our Own

Dates, keywords, order. Dan Heng scrolled through the endless pages he had written and compiled so far, fitting them into distinct categories.

Planarcadia had provided him with much more data than he initially expected. After all, Himeko had guided them here with the intention of having a much needed vacation, but as usual they ended up in yet another pickle. With another Lord Ravager, no less, right after the First Genius in Amphoreus. It completely tired the crew out. Now, before they left for Astropolis, they decided to catch their breaths first.

So now, the express was stagnant and paused on the starting point of its silver rail from fifteen years ago, yet thrumming with some newfound energy, especially after what had happened during their confrontation with Asat Pramad.

Himeko kept herself busy with her coffee concoctions, a bit more affectionate than usual, as if to reassure the rest of the crew she was still here. Mr. Yang was more vocal about his concerns for her, though he’d also taken an almost childish yet endearing liking to her mech, the Starblazer. March and the trailblazer didn’t quite leave her side either. It was sometimes a bit excessive, yet Dan Heng could say nothing when he felt the same and knew their experience in Amphoreus had made them a little more scared, a little more clingy, and so much more protective of each other.

Right now though, the express was already dipped in its night simulation. Everyone else ought to be asleep. The lights in the parlor car had long been dimmed, and the entire place was washed in the blue lights of the gigantic whale on the ceiling, and the numerous stars that appeared both close and far from the windows. The corridors were lit with only the walking guides. The only noise that pierced the lull of the express was the distant hum of the engine, whirring right underneath Dan Heng’s room. The waters beneath the glass floor muffled the sound, but he quite enjoyed the warmth that rose undeterred.

As was obvious with how he refused to untangle his long tail from where it wrapped tightly around Ren’s torso. The man was warm, warmer than anyone.

Ren sat on the floor, seemingly unaffected by the muscled tail coiling like a snake around him. He sat with his back to Dan Heng, his fingers plucking through the pages of a comic book March had left in the room when she last visited. It didn’t seem like something the craftsman would particularly like or even care to read, but he oddly enough hadn’t put it down since the last half hour. He didn’t have his glasses out either, though he assured it was because the typeface wasn’t small enough nor his eyes so bad to need them now.

They didn’t talk. Neither were good talkers anyway, and while it pleased Dan Heng that they didn’t need to speak to be so in sync, he still wished to interact. Be a little closer. Surely now he could? When Ren had finally came back from his prophesied death?

It had scared him. The idea that Ren’s funeral was just near, so suddenly, so out of nowhere. When Dan Heng had initially set out to find him, and had been told his new mission in Planarcadia was connected to death, he’d joked about it. No, he’d been rather sarcastic about it, hadn’t he?

To his horror, General Yao Guang had right after offered him the funeral he so desired. Something, like death, that’ll finally free Ren from his burdens, his sins. Furthermore, she’d promised a way to even exact revenge on Shuhu. Dan Heng hadn’t needed Ren to speak to know he’ll accept. And in that moment, before he even knew how the funeral was going to take place, or when, an intense feeling of loss had already burrowed itself in his chest. Loss, and even regret. Suddenly, time was moving a lot faster, and he no longer had any to spend with Ren.

And to think Ren had refused to let him accompany him to his funeral! It angered him then, bringing hot tears in his eyes unbridled, that surprised him, and Ren even more so. But it convinced Ren, that Dan Heng must stay behind. “You’re needed here more,” he’d said.

Dan Heng had wanted to argue, of course. Did Ren not need him then? But what threw him off more was that he was livid at the fact Ren was cutting their time shorter than it had to be, and not that he made Dan Heng a liar. Accompany him to the end, he’d promised, at the time with a sense of duty. Now, it was more a selfish desire.

But Ren had come back. Of course he did; but it didn’t make his anger at his abandonment any less, it was simply overwhelmed by the tidal wave of relief that washed and clogged all his senses. The sight of his face, the fluttering of his new yet familiar coat, the lighter, brighter sunset of his eyes, when he appeared to fetch him and Mr, Yang back. It stole his breath away. The relief almost made him want to fall down on his knees, or better, run to him and throw his arms around the wide shoulders, clutch the dark hair, see his face up close that now seemed so much more self-assured. He did neither, his body held up by the remade Cloudpiercer amid the debris.

On the way back, they acted normally, or rather, civil would be a better word. All the while as Dan Heng wanted to pull him aside, command all of Ren’s attention to himself and do the same to Ren. The taller man understood well enough, if the way his eyes lingered on him was any tell. Curiosity at his taller build? Amusement at the way his hand never let go of his cut red sleeve? It didn’t matter.

When all of it ended, Dan Heng had decided. Well, it had, and he finally had Ren with him.

There was much to talk about, the past they lost, the present they had, and the future they could make, just like how they wanted to. Dan Heng had almost gave in to the thought Ren would want to entertain him no more. That his funeral had returned a newly made man, unfettered of his bygone days; but his doubts and his fear were laid to rest when the other had approached him first. He’d asserted that some things of the past had yet to be repaid, and it made Dan Heng’s heart soar. They were still a thing. They could not possibly be parted. Ever.

Before he knew, the trailblazer already invited both Silver Wolf and Ren on board the express. The previous hostility towards the Stellaron Hunters had considerably dwindled down, by the fact they’d cooperated with them against Asat Pramad. Particularly for the trailblazer. Ever since they found out they shared some forgotten past with them, they had mellowed out. The crew respected that, and let them on.

They also respected that Dan Heng wanted Ren in his room, in a bubble of privacy that he wasn’t willing to open to anyone else. They left the archives alone whenever Ren was on board. It embarrassed Dan Heng, but his gratitude was more.

Dan Heng found himself lost in thoughts more frequently these days. Perhaps he simply had not allowed himself to sit back down and let his brain process all that he’d experienced. The millennium he’d spent lost in Amphoreus, they blurred in his memories, impossible to separate one from the other. The past few weeks threatened to be lost in the same whirlwind, but now that they had gone nowhere for a few days now, they were clearer than ever. Ren’s presence felt like the shore to this endless sea.

Before the data bank on the wall, Dan Heng sometimes skipped over the words he was supposed to read, the letters floating up and around. He blinked at the open record, the bluish screen unchanged. He quickly scrolled down, one free hand moving to his nape to brush his long hair to a side.

He was in his Imbibitor Lunae form, hence the tail currently one wayward thought away from choking Ren. At first, this form displeased him due to the bad histories he associated with it, but now it had started feeling more natural to him. After all, the short haired express member Dan Heng was a cloudhymn disguise he’d simply gotten too used to.

Still, there were some parts of his draconic forms, even his Permansor Terrae one, that he hadn’t gotten used to. They were mundane struggles. The way his horns got in his way at doors or when putting on shirts, or the way his tail was a heavy limb, an extra one, that he sometimes forgot he could control, either limp or abrupt in its movements. Even so, these forms felt inherently his, and he no longer had the urge to escape his own skin.

Dan Heng clicked out of an entry about the World in Canvas to then click on one about the Lord Ravager Asat Pramad. He had in mind a few points he could write, and erase some old ones. As he wrote, his hair fell in his view. He pushed the long tendrils behind his ear, his finger unconsciously stroking the lotus earring that dangled off it.

“Your hair giving you trouble?”

Ren’s voice broke his reverie. He turned to his side, where Ren sat on the floor. His warm eyes were fixed on him, trailing down the length of his hair, towards the ends where the black faded to a teal the colour of his waters. Ren still had in his hand the newest edition of Fluffy across the Blue, the cutesy cover entirely in contrast with the look of his reader, but Dan Heng liked it just the same.

Had Ren spoken to him? “What?”

“Your hair,” Ren raised a bandaged finger to point at his own head, “you’re not too used to it.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. It’s fine, though.”

What did Ren mean? Dan Heng imagined he must be disappointed, seeing him fumble with the parts of himself that must come naturally to his previous incarnation. Dan Feng had long hair; Yingxing had gave him many a hair pins and other accessories to put on through his mortal life, in adoration and endless love. Did Ren find in his personality all these small holes of inefficiency? All the little things that proved Dan Heng was different? Not quite the one Yingxing had fallen for. He must’ve been angry when he first saw Dan Heng with short hair, all those years ago on that IPC ship that neither remembered even the name of.

He said softly, “You like it? When it’s long?”

Dan Heng knew that wasn’t all. Ren had been reforged. In a way, it was a kind of rebirth. They were both new people who were made of their shared pasts, the one that set them from a point of love on a long path of suffering and hurt. But their new paths were constituted of new experiences and new love. They found each other either way.

Somehow Dan Heng had grown to love Ren despite it all, despite Yingxing and despite Dan Feng. And if he knew anything about Ren, he knew the other was a similar case.

Ren spoke blankly, like there was no way anything else could be the case. He said with all the confidence one had when saying the stars were a source of light, “Trivial matter. You could shave all your hair off and you’d still be Dan Heng.”

“I’ll hope it never comes to that.” Dan Heng couldn’t help but smile. It was true.

The comic in Ren’s hand dropped close, and he raised it from where he sat towards Dan Heng. “You’re not reading that anymore?”

“I’ve read it twice already. Comics are unsurprisingly easier to finish.”

The shorter man filed it away on one of the shelves. When he looked back, intending to join the other on the floor, he found him unwrapping the red ribbon from his hand. Carefully, his fingers swaying in the air to let the ribbon detach easily.

Dan Heng asked, “What are you doing?”

The ribbon fell beside him in a puddle, the red sitting prettily on the blue of the glass floor. Ren’s now bare hand came to rest on the cool tail that still coiled around him. The warmth of it was shocking, almost scalding against the coldness of his scales. Dan Heng’s face turned from quizzical to alarmed in a moment’s notice, as Ren’s hand rode up the length before it stopped at some distance from his hips.

“Come here.”

“What–?” Dan Heng’s tail was pulled abruptly. His knees buckled, and he fell crashing down onto the floor, a messy tangle of limbs. His tail loosened from its grip. “Ren?”

Ren’s arm came round his waist, pulling him to sit upright. It would’ve been no problem at all, if only it didn’t mean Dan Heng was being bodily manhandled and situated onto Ren’s lap. Mortification settled in him, and seeing the other’s smug look, it must’ve been obvious on his face. In this form, there was seldom any heat in his body, and his blood was as cold as spring water. But if he’d been in his human disguise, Dan Heng scowled lightly, he knew his face would’ve been flush red.

“Sit still for a moment, would you?” Ren hugged him from behind, the feeling of it so heavenly that he let him do as he pleased. The intense warmth that came off him softened any sharp edges in Dan Heng, and to make it better, against his principles of decency, he could feel the planes of his chest pressing onto the small of his back.

He chuckled against Dan Heng’s bare shoulder, the warm breath sending shivers down his spine. Ren must’ve felt that. His grip grew a bit tighter before he let go. “I’m not gonna kill you, if you must know.”

“I know that.” The dragon couldn’t help but smile.

“Hmm.”

Ren made him shift a little, settling his legs in a way that made Dan Heng relax between his legs. The latter found the distance odd, before he felt Ren’s fingers carding through his long hair. They ran down the length of it. He pinched him at his waist, making the shorter man yelp. And he had the audacity to smile.

Ren tugged at the few knots in his hair, patiently untangling the fine strands until they fell in a smooth and wide curtain on Dan Heng’s back. Slowly, he parted the dark hair into quarters, and with his free hand picked the red ribbon to tie around one of them. Dan Heng sat quietly, almost fascinated by the degree of care Ren spared in his work, his dexterity plainly obvious in the way his hands flexed, and the way he felt no pain at his scalp.

After a few minutes, he was at the end.

“Use your phone camera if you must.”

On the screen, Dan Heng saw the long dark braid faded into the hidden blue, and in its loose twists his hair held the ribbon, skipping from one side to the other like a stream of red. It vanished from one spot only to appear on the other, coiling around so naturally it didn’t feel quite foreign. With expert hands working at something lost but familiar, Ren tied the end of the ribbon, securing the braid at the dragon’s waist. It was pretty, from where he could see. Dan Heng held the end in one hand when Ren offered it for his due inspection.

Dan Heng didn’t know much about such routines, but even he could tell. Ren was good at this. He had fumbled a few times, but he pulled through anyways. Ren must remember from long ago. Perhaps Dan Heng could indulge in these things more; he had little to complain about if he could spend more time with him.

The braid being pretty as it was, it was just a bonus.

“Well?” Ren turned to him. He raised a brow, clearly expecting praise to fall from Dan Heng’s lips, but glee was equally visible. It didn’t show, but the dragon had learnt to read him now. “Do you like it?”

“It’s acceptable.” The dragon still held his hair in his hand, blatantly admiring the handiwork.

That didn’t discourage him though. Ren smiled. “If you say so.”

Ren pulled him closer again, onto his lap. His body wholly enveloped the dragon’s, and he rested his chin on his shoulder, closing his eyes. It was such a rare sight to have the craftsman relax so well that the dragon didn’t think to move, lest he parted from him. Dan Heng eventually let go of his braid. He turned halfway around to face Ren, and put an arm around the other’s shoulders, pulling him in by his loose hair into a kiss. It seemed to have surprised him, taken him aback. Ren’s lips were unmoving, but soon enough, his kiss was reciprocated tenfold.

The kiss was warm, soft between them, better than anything else before but that was simply how Dan Heng felt every time. It wasn’t new, but it made his stomach swoop nonetheless, an oddly gentle caress from the man who’d spent years chasing him down.

They broke apart too soon, and a single shared look of a mutual desire was enough for them to fall into each other again.

Soon, Ren’s tongue lapped at his lip, urging him to open up to him, and Dan Heng acquiesced easily. He went along with most things Ren asked of him, with words or without. He knew the other would follow him back the other way if he wished. But, perhaps the dragon could indulge him a bit more.

One of Ren’s hand settled on his waist, his hold tight and a brand of heat. But it made Dan Heng feel both safe and slightly insane. It made his mind spin a little, at the tinge of possessiveness lacing the other’s fingers, the way they pressed just a little more at the tips. His other rose up to Dan Heng’s nape, almost forgetting that his hair wasn’t loose anymore. Even so, Ren didn’t touch the braid, he simply touched lightly at the exposed skin, even digging into his collar, following the column of his spine.

Dan Heng was growing impatient, and just a little hazy from the lack of air in his lungs. But instead of moving away, he pressed closer. Closer and closer, until the two couldn’t be differentiated from each other. He snuggled his hips closer, pressing his crotch to the other’s.

Distantly, Dan Heng heard Ren groan at the friction, but the sound was nothing but air and the motion of his tongue against his.

They soon ended up flat on the small futon Dan Heng used for himself. Usually messy, but on such nights sodden beyond repair. He’d once thought of buying another for the nights Ren stayed, but the craftsman had made him forget all that the same night he brought it up, and since then he used it as an excuse to lie closer. Neither particularly spoke up on it, even when they could, like in the next mornings.

But if anyone was going to point this anomaly out, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be them.

***

The door to the archives opened soundlessly, hinted at only by the faint shape of the corridor lights filtering into the room.

It was further obstructed by the tall figure that currently stood there. Before he even came in, Ren said, “Someone told me you didn’t change out of your dragon form for 3 whole days since the last I came here.”

That was a lot of words for the first thing he said upon arriving. Ren wasn’t a talker, sure. But Dan Heng couldn’t exactly rejoice right now at the expense of his dignity.

From where he stood before the data bank, the dragon stiffened. He said woodenly, “Was it March?”

“The pink one? Then yes.”

He came in, and despite the fact that Dan Heng was rolling his eyes at his refusal to learn his friends’ names, he dropped a chaste kiss on his lips. Ren was obviously feeling quite smug. “She said you didn’t undo your hair all that time. You liked that so much?” He kissed him again. “I’m honoured.”

“You’re awful,” Dan Heng chastised.

Ren only laughed, finally letting his fingers go from where they hooked at his trousers.

Dan Heng was in his human form now, his hair cropped short, the tips of his ears rounded like Ren’s. He had forgone his coat though, and preferred to move about the archives in his long sleeved black shirt. The wire across his earrings fell on the back of his neck, suddenly tugged at by Ren.

“What is it?”

“I have something for you,” Ren said stiffly, as if in nervousness.

But that was unlikely. As Dan Heng saw the other retreat to the corner where the futon laid, gesturing at him to follow, he corrected his thought. Ren could be nervous, he was human after all, but it must be something significant for him to feel so. And that troubled him. Whatever it was, Dan Heng must help if he could.

His anxiety was present on his face it seemed, because Ren thoughtfully softened his voice when he spoke next, “What’s got you so worried?”

The craftsman took his place on the floor, as he usually did because Dan Heng didn’t keep any other seats. He offered a hand, beckoning the archivist to join him. This surprised the latter even further. Their usual routine, after all, involved simply reading through the data bank entries until one or the other felt sleep finally creep up behind their eyes, finally dragging them both to slumber in each other’s embrace.

Dan Heng settled down.

“I have something,” Ren repeated, “I think it’ll suit you.”

He brought forth a hand from his inner pocket, fingers tightly closed in a fist for a moment before they unfurled. The long scar-ridden digits that Dan Heng knew were hidden underneath all those layers of gauze. But right now, in his palm were a few beads, a bit larger than the ones he’d seen adorning the strings of a Zhuming native, colourfully fragile in its glassy appearance, yet impossibly sturdy. Dan Heng could sense his craftsmanship in them before he even touched them. He knew when he did, he’d feel the carvings on them so intricate he’d never stop finding new corners in them, nor would they ever run out of the surfaces that reflected light from within.

Ren held them out for him to inspect, clearly. Dan Heng, however, didn’t really know what to make of it.

“They’re pretty,” he finally managed to say.

Just that, and the craftsman was already beaming, a look of arrogance that to anyone else would be too rude. To Dan Heng, it was what made his heart swell. He found some courage to continue, “They are. May I ask what they’re for?”

“Well, I made them to put on your hair of course.”

Dan Heng picked one of the beads, a brilliant crimson, shinier than a red sugar candy but less than a ruby. He held it to the only light on the ceiling. A thought occurred to him, and he quickly put it back in Ren’s hand.

Before the other’s perplexed look, Dan Heng leaned back. In a flash of light like one seen underneath the surface of a cold sea, he changed to his Imbibitor Lunae form. The more he did, the easier it became. And, perhaps, he was too fond of the look of reverence that glazed over Ren’s amber eyes, half dripping with adoration, that came on when he changed. He wanted to see it all the time, even if Ren’s love never wavered regardless of how he looked.

Crystalline horns rose on the crown of his head. A watery tail manifested right at his tailbone, immediately curling and lapping at Ren. And, the part he needed the most right now, Dan Heng’s hair grew and grew until it fell down on his back like a curtain of black that let no light in.

But there was one part of it that he knew was odd. Dan Heng bunched some hair near his right ear, and found what he was looking for. The odd red streak that had grown and now ran down to his waist, buried in the rest of his dark hair. The red hair where at one point there used to be Dan Feng’s red earring, a mirror of Yingxing’s, of Ren’s. He looked up at Ren, and as always, he understood.

Ren’s features softened. With steady hands, he clicked the beads in place, the red line cutting through them, one crimson, the other azure, and falling into the teal ends at his waist. So easily obvious just what they meant, but the dragon knew if he asked, the other would just redirect the conversation. So neither addressed it, but he could feel relief in the way Ren was so patient with him.

Dan Heng had never particularly thought about his looks, but he could say he almost felt pretty. At least, he could tell Ren he appreciated his gifts.

“There’s something else.”

“More?”

The dragon felt giddy, glee and anticipation lining every inch of his body. He couldn’t help it, could he? Dragons were naturally possessive beings, and having such a lover who was so dedicated to gift giving was all that a dragon could ask for. Dan Heng almost chastised himself for being so greedy, always adamant to receive things, always ready to take them and never part from them. Selfish. But Ren entertained these whims of his, this habit. Even encouraged them. While Dan Heng had complained about it, he only ever laughed.

Ren was spoiling him, and let Lan strike him down if he ever didn’t enjoy it.

Ren slowed his actions, almost as if teasing now that he had all of the archivist’s attention.

But then he brought something out, long and thin. He held out his hand to show, and Dan Heng finally saw it.

A hairpin.

“It’s not much. Just...”

Dan Heng knew, however. He understood easily. The last time Ren was here, or who knew since how long before that, he’d noticed Dan Heng wasn’t used to his long hair. He saw how he kept fumbling with it, and how troubled he was, even if Dan Heng himself never realised it.

“Oh.”

The hairpin was long, perhaps even longer than the dragon’s own handspan. It was a curved beauty, really, entirely golden and made with an immensely keen eye. At the end where it was to be held by his hand were golden leaves that wrapped about the curved stick like the petals about the thalamus of a flower. And in the centre, Dan Heng admired, a bud made of seaglass. The leaves were thin yet they curled around the spine up to the bud as if to protect, despite their own apparent fragility.

Ren took his hand and dropped the pin on it. “For you.”

For a moment, he stared at it. He blinked. “Oh um.” His face felt ice cold, because he’s cold blooded, right; but Dan Heng could imagine that if he was human, his face would be red and positively on fire.

Clumsily, he clutched the metal in one hand, warm from Ren’s body, his other at his neck to bunch his hair. Twist. Bunch. And up. Up. And then the pin was to go in one side and out the other. Dan Heng didn’t really have anyone to learn from, simply doing what he thought were possibly the steps. No sooner had his hands left his hair, the pin fell to the floor, and all his work was unravelled.

Almost in fear of breakage, the dragon grabbed up the fallen accessory, blowing off scratches and dust that didn’t exist.

“Put it on for me?”

Ren chuckled and gestured at him to turn around. First, he combed the hair with his fingers again. With expert hands – though Dan Heng had never seen him with his hair up – the craftsman twisted his thick hair, leaving a long tendril near each pointed ear. One of them held the beads on it, and it now fell on his chest. Ren raised the rest up, and slowly, with a grip so light that the dragon felt nothing, he inserted the pin.

When he was done, Ren planted a small kiss on Dan Heng’s now exposed nape.

He asked, “You like it?”

“Very much.” Dan Heng felt the urge to be honest, suddenly. Like a dam about to burst with several months’ worth of rain, he felt the same pressure build in his chest. “I love it, Ren. I love you.”

It’s strange how such proclamations still took Ren by surprise. Dan Heng hoped to make him used to it, sooner the better. He had to.

“I love you too.” Ren smiled, and Dan Heng wished the night would never end.

The craftsman brought his reading glasses out. Dan Heng expected him to read something more serious tonight. Maybe one of his own entries? But then he pulled out his phone too.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t focus too much on the lens, alright?”

And then suddenly Ren put his glasses on Dan Heng, even letting the thin golden chain fall on the back of his neck. He raised his phone and the camera clicked.

Dan Heng was dumbfounded. What was that?

Before he could manage to utter anything, to relay his questions, Ren plucked the glasses off.

“Huh? What was that? Ren?”

Ren put away his glasses, and opening up the gallery on his phone – that Dan Heng secretly noted had quite a few screenshots of some gacha pulls he only recognised because of the trailblazer – clicked on the latest image. Proudly, he showed it to the confused archivist.

The picture, captured just now, was that of Dan Heng. It blurred at the edges a little, a tell-tale sign that it was clicked in a hurry, in the tiny moment that he’d been too taken aback to react. But the centre, him, he was clear enough. It was like a frame around him.

In it, Dan Heng’s features were twisted in confusion, but just so bright still from what had happened only a moment ago. It almost embarrassed him, the idea that his thoughts were so visible, but perhaps that was only Ren who could read him like that and had managed to capture his meanings in his camera as well. His hair was up, some loose strands falling in loops, almost intentional. Behind him he saw the leaves of the pin peek out, with a glimmer of blue. Thin rimmed glasses of gold sat on his face. He looked, Dan Heng realised soon, different. Like someone who wasn’t of the Astral Express, and probably grew up on the Xianzhou. Some other life. His Imbibitor Lunae form tended to do that.

“You look like a scholar, don’t you, A-Heng? A Shifu.”

Ren seemed to be able to guess the thoughts in him.

The dragon let out a soft breath. “Hah... what’s up with you?”

He was met with a shake of the head. Ren smiled ruefully, “I’m leaving early tomorrow.”

Dan Heng’s breath suddenly came short. “You’re leaving?” He glanced at the picture again, a perfect moment. Unlikely, he thought suddenly, to come back again for a while now. “New mission?”

“Yes. I came here tonight to give you these.” The sad smile turned a bit ironic. Almost amusement, mostly reassurance.

But Dan Heng was long lost. He’d spent the days leading up to Ren’s funeral in fear, and reprehension towards something that he knew was inevitable. The anxiety had eaten at him all hours of the day, even as he moved about Planarcadia doing what he ought to do, his missions, his duty. It had only worsened when he was turned away.

Ren knew that. Then he also must know that parting now would upset him equally as much. However, as Dan Heng watched Ren’s eyes flicker like the warm flames of a hearth, he reconsidered.

Ren had to go. The script required his presence, and his loyalty to the Stellaron Hunters was also important. They had been there for him when Dan Heng couldn’t. Surely, the latter tried figuring it wordlessly in his understanding look, surely they would meet again. They both travelled among the stars. How utterly unlikely it was that they should never cross paths again after this! Even the express crew, the others, were deeply, intricately connected to them.

“How nice of you, Ren.” The words still grated against his throat. “That you came here.”

“Dan Heng–”

“I’ll close the data bank for tonight. Just a moment.”

The archivist stiffly rose from the floor to walk to his working space. The screen was dimmed from inactivity, and at a click, it blinked back into its previously bright blue again, only to be shut down completely the next moment.

Dan Heng came back to Ren.

Slowly, as if it’d make the moment last longer, he spread his futon, smoothing the creases. Ren joined him wordlessly, in the tight space that they were content with. They had needed nothing else but to feel the other close again, and right now Dan Heng felt it more than ever.

Delicately, Ren pulled the hairpin out, and Dan Heng’s hair fell down in waves. He placed it somewhere that the latter didn’t note.

When the lights were turned off and they finally laid on the futon, Dan Heng said, maybe a bit impulsive, “When you’re away, can I text you?”

In the dark, Ren’s voice came from somewhere, undoubtedly close by, with the way his breath lingered on his bare skin, like a caress. “Of course. I’ll reply to every single one of them.”

“Even if there’s nothing to say?”

“I doubt there’ll be nothing, but yes. Even then. Maybe I could send those weird videos Silver Wolf sometimes sends to me.” He chuckled, “They’re supposedly funny, but I don’t see how.”

“Hmm. Sometimes I get those as well. It could serve as something to talk about if need be.”

“Okay.”

“Can I call you as well?” Dan Heng knew by Lan’s name he’d miss the sound of Ren’s voice. The timbre of it, and the way it made shivers dance on the dragon’s skin.

“It can be a problem on missions.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine. I could call you instead.”

“Yes. That’s perfect.”

There’s no answer for a long moment, and Dan Heng almost thought the other had fallen asleep. But then he’s squeezed closer, and Ren said, “I’ll see you soon, A-Heng. It’s a promise.”

***

The next morning, Dan Heng woke to the sounds of knocking on the archives door.

Sleep still tried to claim him, but by now he knew it was futile. And, if he knew anything about the ones behind the door, it was that they’d never leave him alone before seeing his face.

Dan Heng slowly pushed himself up on his arms, stifling a yawn. He blinked at the ceiling. When he looked down, he realised he was still in his Imbibitor Lunae form. His horns were still on his head, his ears were still long, and his hair was still falling past his waist. His tail was draped across the cold floor, and wasn’t coiled around a body that he knew well. That was how it clicked in him, the lack of a familiar warmth sticking close to him.

On this morning, Dan Heng woke up alone on his futon. And his heart broke a little.

But against the backdrop of the constant noise at his door, he still caught the two beads clinging to his hair. To the side of his pillow, there was the golden hairpin, but there wasn't the red ribbon he'd hung at the railing. Dan Heng sighed and mentally noted to learn how to use the pin.

Most importantly, Dan Heng found his phone screen brightening with a new notification. ‘Ren’, it said. And below it, he sent something, a vague icon. The grey square loaded soon and he saw the picture he’d seen the previous night. Blurry, and candid. Dan Heng of last night stared back at him through gold rimmed glasses, when he still had Ren within an arm’s reach. Immediately after it, there’s something else, and he saw it was an image of a cat in a heart, with sparkles around it. A sticker. Ren just sent him a sticker.

Ren texted first. A ‘good morning’, and Dan Heng already couldn’t wait till he heard it next time.