1. When you’re both in the archives, Dan Heng sometimes reads out loud interesting facts or quotes from the books that he finds especially profound or amusing. He may also ask you a random question to start a conversation, and, as you later understood, to show off his knowledge of the topic. 

+ Dan Heng isn’t really used to compliments, but his smile gets ever more genuine when you or other people he likes point out his intelligence. He’ll never tell this, but you can see it in his eyes – he’s happy to make people interested in learning something new. 

2. Phainon became a very heavy sleeper since you came into his life and settled comfortably in his routine. He now rarely has nightmares, for you became an anchor, a light, a pleasant dream he is able to see even with his eyes open. But nothing comes for free, because now he misses all his alarms (he sets them for every 5 minutes: 7:05, 7:10, 7:15… And still wakes at 8:53), can’t hear you shout in his ear, but! He’s instantly awake once you gently put your arm on his cheek and say with the tenderest of your smiles: “Phainon, you overslept”.

3. Aventurine never keeps boxes from new phones, laptops, watches, earphones – he just throws it away. So when he first bought you something that ordinary people would consider costly and you carefully placed an empty box in the drawer, he was… smiling. He knows the feeling – Aventurine himself still keeps a box from his first ever expensive wristwatch – but even so, he comes over to you and places a hand on your waist, saying: “If it’s not for the memory, then why keep it? I can buy you as many more as you want”. 

4. Gepard has a soft spot for sticky notes. It seems the order a soldier values is either a part of his nature or a professional deformation, for he keeps reminders to “meet with Serval”, “take food” (that is – to take a homemade dinner you prepared on the night patrol), and, of course, to “water the flowers”. Yet you always find yourself giving a food container right to him, freezing yet smiling, and you water the almost withered plants, hoping they’ll bloom once more just for him to see it. But there is a shining silver lining – among all the notes, you always find a new one every day, saying: “Love you. Gepard”. 

5. Sunday stays up late almost every night. Sometimes you catch him stargazing in the Party car or reading quietly in the dimly lit room, while other times you cross paths in a corridor, your hands and shoulders brushing ever so slightly against each other for a second or two. Either way, he always acknowledges your presence with a knowing smile and a light nod, never asking you why you are up so late. And in case you wish to have a late-night talk, he turns to you and politely gestures to take a seat on the couch, or closes his book and listens to your sleepy rambles like only he can do. 

6. Childe sometimes adds Russian words to his speech, leaving you with a question of whether he was flirting or swearing just now. Sonorous “r” and strong syllables never fail to get your attention and equally never fail to make him look even more robust and vigorous, because it’s “prekrasno” when you show him your new outfit and he gives you an approving smile, and it’s “prekrasno” when you both return home and see that you left a window wide open while a storm rages outside. It’s “toska” when there’s nothing fun in the fridge, and it’s “toska” when you look at the white plains of Snezhnaya, where wind howls like an animal and the scenery's colour palette is only shades of grey. 

(Prekrasno (adv.) – wonderful-ly, beautiful-ly; toska (n.) – a complex word, meaning boredom, sadness bordering with sorrow, melancholy, deep yearning and so much more).

7. Wanderer does all his assignments on the day before the deadline. He says all year that he couldn’t care less, yet when you come to the library late in the evening to study before the exam, you see him buried in a book with his forehead in his palm, brows furrowed in concentration, all while a pen in his hand moves feverishly like a metronome – left-right-left-right-left-right. If Nahida was here, you think, she would gently pat him between the shoulders to make him straighten up, even if he doesn’t really need it. But you’re no teacher to disrupt a diligent student from his studies, so you just take a vacant seat you’re closest to and dive in your own lectures, somewhat relieved to learn that you weren’t the only one neglecting schedules and education all this time. 

He’s a 0/10, because when you first stepped foot on the Express, he just gave you a scrutinizing look and didn’t say a word. And it happened again – at the first passenger meeting, first shared dinner, even first cleaning of the Express’s cars. It’s not threatening, it’s just… cold.

He’s a 1/10, because he always holds doors for you, no matter how far you are, and he’s always the first in the group to stop and wait for you when you’re falling behind. On your never-changing “thank you” he only nods.

He’s a 2/10, because he never says “you’re too loud” when you get excited about two moons in the sky on one of the planets and share your admiration with him. He never points out that you should be quieter when you laugh about something, never nags at you for being yourself. His maximum is an exasperated sigh or an eyeroll, but never a complaint. 

He’s a 3/10, because sometimes you wake up in the middle of the astronomical night to find yourself in the archives, covered with a blanket. You exit quietly, and when presented with a question of “Why didn’t you wake me up?” the next morning, Dan Heng only shrugs and says: “You didn’t hear me”. Now – are you really that much of a heavy sleeper? Or maybe – but you decide to hold it to yourself – Dan Heng didn’t even try?

He’s a 4/10, because when it’s time for the usual souvenir exchange after exploration of a new planet, Dan Heng seems to know you like you know yourself. To think that of all trinkets on the stall he picked this exact thing of this design and material, and of an excellent quality, too! Expressing your gratitude, you notice how his faint smile becomes more gentle. 

He’s a 5/10, because he knows your habits. When you lose all hope in finding your phone after checking every corner, every gap, he calmly hands it to you and says: “Found it under the pillow on the couch. Just like three times before”, and gives you a mocking look. Strangely enough, you also see a tiny drop of pride in the blue of his eyes. 

He knocks on your door exactly when you give yourself one final look in the mirror before heading out for breakfast, and you feel his hand fall lightly on your shoulder just a moment before a wave of sleepiness hits you in the late evening. 

He’s a 6/10, because he listens to you. No matter how big or small the problem is, he never stops your train of thoughts, never denies and never lessens your experience. He lets your words settle down in the archive or in a suite of the hotel, giving back just a few words. But reassurance in his eyes and steadiness in his voice soothe your anxiety, and before long you find yourself relaxed and protected by this tranquil silence. And more often than not, by the next morning your trouble has magically vanished.  

He’s a 7/10, because his compliments stay with you for a long time. He may note how a new eyeshadow color makes your eyes brighter, or how this particular shirt depicts your versatile personality. He never speaks for the sake of a mere flattery, so you know it’s true when Dan Heng calls you clever or alluring, even if it’s barely audible and makes his gaze glued to the screen or a tea in his cup, to anything – but your face. 

He’s an 8/10, because he makes you feel safe, in every situation. You know you can always ask him about almost anything in this vast universe through which you blaze, and he will explain calmly, softly and interestingly. You know that his spear will hit the enemy faster than you turn around to shield yourself, and you know that any nightmare can be dissipated in his quiet, soft embrace. He’s the first to speak up when you’re met with bad criticism, and he’s the last to leave your bed when you’re ill. 

He’s a 9/10, because he teaches you to be strong and grateful. A horrible day, a nice meal, a storm that caught you two by surprise and a bad photo of you, taken by March 7th – all these things deserve praise and a heartfelt “thank you”, said in the quiet of the dimly lit room or to yourself. Because there wasn’t and won’t be anything identical to these moments, and because you will never be the same – Dan Heng knows it well. 

And still, he points to March to take a photo of a giant tree that is older than your ages combined, and he steals glances at you when you’re not looking, just to make sure that he remembers, just to say “thank you” again. 

He’s a 10/10, because he says “I love you” while typing something on the keyboard and stopping just to check his long empty mug for any tea left. Just like that, like wishing someone a good morning when the morning is truly blissful. His words linger in the air, but somehow, they envelop you in a comfort you only feel when he’s around. Amidst a white noise of the archives, you say: “I love you too”, and then leave to put the kettle on.  

Bonus:

He’s a 10/10, because when you tell the crew that you’re leaving the Express, he only nods and says: “The door to the archives is closed, but never locked”. 

– You’re looking grim. Something the matter? 

His blue eyes had been fixed on your face for a while now, you suddenly realise. You look at him – in the golden sunlight of the Parting Hour his hair becomes a few tones warmer, and the gilded details of his garment reflect the colour of the sky. “Please”, you think to yourself, “not right now”. 

– No, of course not, – you let out a weary laugh, trying to conceal your sigh. – I’m perfectly fine, thanks. 

As expected, he doesn’t buy it. 

– You’ve been like that for a few weeks now. Maybe it’s not my business and I shouldn’t pry, but… – He lets out a chuckle – a habit forged through days of devastation and sorrow; he’s nervous, and he tries to cover it; he tries to lift up the mood. – Did someone fall in love? 

His eyes flicker with something unknown. There’s a spark of curiosity, of course, and a hint of boyish mischief, but in the depth of it you also see a small, almost unnoticeable glisten of… hope? No, it’s just light and shade here, nothing more. You know well: nurturing your own expectations will only transform them into delusions. 

So you shake your head slightly and give him a smile – just the right amount of friendly playfulness, just enough to disguise all the emotions inside. 

– I can’t be sad for any other reason but love now, huh?

– That’s not what I meant, – he scratches the back of his head, and you can see how his ears become more pink. – I just took a guess.

– Come on, Phainon, – you nudge him with your shoulder lightly. He doesn’t move even an inch. – I was just joking. And what if I said “yes”?

– Then I would naturally ask who that is, – he picks up, – and give you my most sincere and valuable appraisal of this lucky person.

You laugh openly. He has this ability – among many other good qualities – to make you feel better with just a few words. 

“And if I said it was you?” 

You don’t even dare to savour these words on your tongue. It’s too risky, too dangerous to say something like this on such a beautiful day, full of sunshine and wind, caressing your cheeks. This friendship with him is too precious for you, and it is also too fragile now that you’re having it solely in your hands. You can shatter it with doing what you want, but don’t have courage for; and even if you did, it would simply fall into many sparkling, yet useless shards, and every each of them would be beautiful, mesmerising, but it would cut you eventually – because it’s just a broken peace with sharp edges, a part of something that used to be greater and more stable than it is now. You can’t destroy it. You simply can’t. 

And you keep your smile plastered, trying to put yourself together:

– I think I’ll manage without the expertise of someone who mistook a rock for obsidian a few days ago, – you tease him. 

– Hey! – Phainon exclaims, but you know he’s not offended, – I already told you: this merchant said it’s a natural obsidian, just covered in mud!

– Yeah, yeah, sure, – you laugh, getting up from the ground of the Garden of Life. – I think it’s almost time for your daily mockery training session with Mydei, no?

– Well, I hope there is a word for “being late” in the Kremnoan, – Phainon chuckles. He gets up leisurely, stretches, and looks at you. 

There it is again, this unexplainable expression on his face. 

– But if you ever wish to tell me about anything – sad or happy, silly or serious, – he stops for a second, trying to find the right words, – I’ll always be there. Today, tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, – he smiles at you warmly. And you trust him like you could never trust yourself.

– Of course, – you answer, words no louder than a whisper dissipating in the coming breeze.

He’s right. If not today, then tomorrow.