Astro

More about my interests:

Assassination classroom

Attack on titans

Epic the musical

Honkai starrail

Gachiakuta (anime)

Genshin Impact

Miraculous ladybug

My leisury time (maybe niche but this game is actively healing things it didnt break in me.)

Love and deepspace

Omniscient reader's viewpoint (Novel)

The freak circus

The promised neverland (manga)

Toilet bound hanako-kun (manga)

Witch hat atelier (manga)

"Have a radiant day, Dannie!" You stepped into the archives room, cradling a box like a tiny treasure, like it held your heart instead of sweet treats. You placed it next to a half empty bottle of water on a small table, the smile coming as easily as the greeting slipped past your lips.

It took him only a second to pick up on the scent of the sweetness mixed with an underlying freshness that seemed vaguely familiar. Lotus?

"Thank..." He replied, quiet in the way he always was. His deep azure eyes falling on the small box. "You didn't have to bother yourself with it."

You shook your head. "Where's the bother? March and I went through almost every shop in the area. One more or one less hardly made a difference." You replied, half joking.

The truth is that it did make a difference. The shop wasn't anywhere near where you and March had spent your evening. You had to send her to the express first before making a run for it to snatched the few last pieces of what you knew was his favorite desert.

He fell silent for a while, and for a moment, your heart gave a sunken beat. Had he picked on your little lie?

"Still... that's... very thoughtful of you." He ended up replying in a tone that suggested that his silence came from the lack of a proper reaction to the small act of attention.

It was heartwarming in its own way, to see him taken aback by something so... silly. Cute, even.

"Its a pleasure, really." You replied curtly.

His silence came from the uncertainty of how to accept your advances. Yours came from a place with a little more bitterness to it.

You had a few more lines you wished to say. Perhaps more than a few, actually.

Since the day you had stepped first on the express, he had always occupied a corner of your mind.

From the way he introduced himself: paced, assured in a way that felt more natural than practiced, measured tone that made him come off as both reliable and unattainable at once.

The first impression had you a bit confused... or rather intrigued. Yes. Intrigued would be more accurate of a word to describe it.

The first few days, he had been remarkable in the most invisible way. He never announced his presence in big bright bursts of laughter and chit-chat like March did, nor did he stand out for a questionable sense of humor like the gray haired trailblazer did.

Instead, he remained the same as when he had spoken his first words to you: calm, measured, responding when needed.

That was when you had started to learn to read his silence.

It turned out to be a surprisingly expressive thing, and its shifting sometimes felt almost physical.

For instance, the way it would be a light, welcomed thing in a conversation with the rest of the crew, a sign of attentiveness and care to what is being said.

The way it would lighten when a silly joke is made. You never managed to see the smile on his face, but it felt as though the air around his did it for him. It wasn't rare for that to happen, and when it did -aeons above- it was contagious.

The way it would loosen and let a few more words slip through in late nights where he ended up alone with you on the red sofas of the passenger cabin.

The way it had started to grow into something uncertain lately in some moments...

...Just like now. It want really intentional on either side, but it would quietly press against your chest, always making you question whether you had taken a step too far into a territory where no one was allowed.

That was why you couldn't allow yourself to say any of it in anything more than a whisper to your mirror when alone.

You lacked the courage.

You lacked the time.

How cowardly of you... truly laughable.

DanHeng's eyes haven't left the box all that while, so he missed the way your smile had twitched into something a little more mocking as you remembered your situation.

The Express was his home, not yours.

For him, it was a life. For you, a simple stop in your journey.

And no matter how welcoming they were, you still wouldn't want to burden them with your presence.

You were better than that. A lovesick admirers? Perhaps. But one with enough self-consciousness not to let it become anyone's problem but your own.

So you turned towards the door. "I think I've interrupted your work for long enough." You tried to smile, and could only hope it wouldn't reflect any sliver of the ache that rose in your chest. "I hope you'll enjoy the pastries."

"Wait." The scrapping of his chair as he stood in a hurry made your hand pause around the handle. "You could- you could at least stay and share some."

The words made you pause before you slowly turned to look at him. He was standing unnecessarily, looking as awkward as someone who spoke before thinking. He hurried to add. "I mean... it must have been a hassle. You could at least enjoy some of it as well."

You paused for a moment, met his gaze, looking at the box before looking back at him.

What was worse than loving a man? Loving a man who didn't seem to realize how much ruckus he was causing inside your chest.

You smiled faintly, shaking your head as blood rushed to your ears. "I already told you, it's no hassle. Besides, I already had some on my way. I couldn't possibly pass on the sweetness, could I?" Another lie. You could only hope he is too busy to notice the way your fingers twitched or the way your breaths occasionally came out shorter than they should.

You had to leave before the silence and the weight got worse.

"I'll be resting in my room!" You forced a smile as you pushed the door open.

"Alright..." He mutters, watching your figure disappear beyond the frame, leaving behind nothing but the ghost of a smile and the subtle lingering floral scent he couldnt quite decipher. Something that tickled memories he had long tucked safely in the back of his mind.

Have you always smelled like morning dew and misty ponds? Or was it the flavors of whatever bakery you had gone to that clung to your clothes? Even his senses, sharp as they were, couldn't cut through the answer with certainty.

He turned to the box once more.

A dozen meters away, you shut the door of your own room as quietly as possible despite the bubbling urgency in your guts. You rushed to the bathroom, opening the tap so violently that it was a wonder how it was still attached to the sink. You splashed water over your face before making a cup of both of your palms and taking a few mouthful of water.

It was pointless. It didn't to a thing to ease the uncomfortable itch in the back of your throat.

It never did.

You looked up at your reflection in the mirror. It looked back at you: hair falling over in hazardous directions, face growing more and more red by the seconds, eyes watering as breathing became harder and harder with each inhale. No matter how much you tried, you couldnt get much air in.

It only took a few of there very inefficient cycles for your vision to start blurring at the edges from both tears and dizziness.

And if all this wasn't enough to bring you to your knees, then the next fit of pain surely was. It stabbed mercilessly through your chest, so agonizingly intense that you thought your chest was split open for your heart to escape.

You braced yourself on shaking hands as you felt what can only be described as the drag of needles through your chest. It started deep withing your lungs, then moved across the branches to your trachea, then climbed to your throat so slow, cutting off almost all your air supply, before the metallic taste of it finally flooded your mouth.

And like a dam cracked broken, you coughed it up. Mouthful after mouthful of blood staining the tiles under your palms adorned with pale lotus petals that were far too beautiful to be causing so much pain.

Then again, anything would cause pain when forced somewhere it didn't belong: feet in a shoe one size too small, flowers inside lungs made for air, and your love for a man who had no idea about it.

Your reflection was still looking at you, but this time through the viscous puddles of crimson.

You lifted a shaky finger to reach for one of the petals, noting how the droplets of blood gathered on its back like morning dew would. It was getting worse: the petals were growing in size, the fits in frequency, and the pain in scale...

Perhaps you wouldn't have to hold your words back for much longer, after all. Its not like there was much time life with all this in sight.

Your reflection kept looking at you with red rimmed eyes and blood trailing down her cheek.

You looked back and whispered in a hoarse voice. "I just hope the pastries are to his taste."

Perhaps then, after your gone, after the maggots carved ways through your flesh to finally devour your soul, they would taste the love you held for him in the remnants of your no longer beating heart.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹ [Masterlist]