Chapter Text
The bus was unusually quiet.
Not silent, silence was something the bus rarely managed to achieve; but quiet enough that Dante could hear the faint rattling of the windows whenever they passed over a particularly uneven stretch of road.
Most of the Sinners had settled into their usual habits.
Hong Lu was staring out the window.
Outis was scanning the bus (which of course, meant watching for threats, outbursts or signs of weakness.)
Don Quixote had somehow fallen asleep while sitting upright.
And Faust,
Faust was sitting beside Dante.
Not unusually close.
Not unusually far.
Precisely the distance one might expect between two people who happened to be sharing a bench.
At least, that was what Dante told themself.
Tick.
The clock hand moved.
Dante glanced toward Faust.
She was reading one of her books, expression as neutral as ever. Her fingers rested lightly against the page, and every so often her eyes shifted downward.
Dante looked away.
A few seconds passed.
They looked again.
Faust was still there.
Dante's clock-face gave an embarrassed little *tick-tick-tick*.
Faust's eyes lifted.
"You have been looking at Faust for approximately three minutes."
Dante froze.
*Oh.*
They quickly shook their head.
"No, no, I wasn't-"
"You were."
Dante gestured frantically.
*I was just wondering what you were reading.*
Faust looked down at the book.
Then back at Dante.
"That is not what you were wondering."
Dante's clock tilted slightly.
*Then what was I wondering?*
Faust closed the book.
She considered them for a moment.
"Faust does not know."
A pause.
"Which is unusual."
Dante's clock face flickered.
*For you?*
"For anyone."
She placed the book in her lap.
"You have been staring at Faust with increasing frequency over the past several days."
Dante nearly combusted.
*I have not.*
"You have."
*I haven't.*
"You have."
*Okay, maybe a little.*
Faust's lips curved.
Barely.
It was so small that Dante almost wondered if they had imagined it.
"There."
Dante stared.
*What?*
"That expression."
*What expression?*
"The one you make when you are embarrassed."
Dante's clock hand practically spun.
Faust's smile became slightly more apparent.
It was strange.
Dante had seen Faust smile before. Usually after explaining something everyone else found incomprehensible. Usually with the quiet confidence of someone who had already reached the conclusion everyone else was still trying to understand.
This smile was different.
Smaller.
Softer.
Almost private.
Dante found themself staring again.
Faust noticed.
Of course she did.
"Again."
*Sorry.*
"You do not need to apologize."
Faust shifted slightly closer.
Just enough that their shoulders touched.
Dante went completely still.
Faust didn't move away.
Instead, she reopened her book.
"Faust has determined that your behavior is harmless."
*You determined that?*
"Yes."
*And what else did you determine?*
Faust turned another page.
"That you enjoy Faust's company."
Dante paused.
Then slowly nodded.
*Yeah.*
Faust's eyes remained on the book.
"And Faust enjoys yours."
The ticking stopped.
For one terrible, wonderful second, Dante wondered if their clock had broken.
*You...do?*
"Obviously."
*You never said that.*
"I am saying it now."
Dante stared at her.
Faust finally looked over.
Their eyes met.
There was no smugness in her expression this time.
No teasing.
Just something warm.
Something Dante couldn't quite put a name to.
"You are important to Faust, Dante."
Dante's hands tightened around the edge of their coat.
*You're important to me too.*
Faust was quiet.
Then she reached over.
Her fingers lightly tapped the side of Dante's clock.
Once.
Twice.
An almost imperceptible gesture.
"Good."
Dante's clock began ticking again.
Much louder than before.
Faust opened her book.
After a moment, she leaned her head against Dante's shoulder.
Dante nearly stopped functioning.
*Faust?*
"Hm?"
*Are you comfortable?*
"Yes."
*You're sure?*
"Yes."
A pause.
"Do not move."
Dante smiled beneath the clock.
*Wasn't planning to.*
"Good."
And for the rest of the ride, Faust continued reading.
Dante didn't understand a single thing happening in the book.
They didn't care.
For once, they were perfectly content simply sitting there,
shoulder to shoulder,
listening to the bus,
and pretending that the warmth beside them wasn't the nicest thing they'd felt in a very long time.