Chapter Text
‘It’ll be fun!’ said March about the celebration.
Nothing prepared either of them for how much walking they did. 6 straight hours on their feet, only getting a respite when Bronya gave a boring speech.
When they return to the Express, they don’t so much ‘sit down’ as they collapse upon it together, weary and withered.
“March?” Stelle calls out through laboured breaths and a splitting headache.
“Yeah?” Not that March is doing much better.
“Next time we should just find a nice balcony somewhere and watch from afar, yeah? I’m not built for lollygagging.”
“Lollygagging?” Exhaustion is kicking her ass, but March still manages to force out a laugh. “Okay, Mr. Yang.”
“Shut uppppppppppp.” While it may not restore her stamina, March’s jab does restore her spirit. “You want a juice or something? I’m parched.”
“Soda, actually… Marmar needs her sugarrrrr.” Moving her limbs takes herculean effort. Nonetheless, March fights through the pain to reach for her phone and check the time. “Hey, it’s 5pm. Do you wanna go for a little nap?”
Her question hangs in the air for a few seconds while Stelle’s brain, while not quite as smooth as March’s, takes time to process the question.
“A nap? Together?”
“Duh.” March quickly scans her surroundings. Beside Stelle, Pom-Pom dusting off the music player, and the stars beyond the window, they are completely alone.
“It’s fine for you to be in my bed, right? You’ve already been in my-”
“MARCH!” Stelle blurts out, as hushed a shout as she can muster. Pom-Pom mercifully does not hear.
“Yeah. I’d love to nap. With you. I need a good rest, really.”
Hehe, with me… She loves me.
March shambles over the sofa, Stelle as her target, and collapses onto her. They sit there for another three minutes before they rise in sync, two scarecrows animated by forces beyond their ken. With an arm over the other’s shoulder, they lurch towards their bedrooms, silently thankful that nobody is around to quiz them on their sudden closeness. Behind them, the great and free Jarilo-VI hovers in space - what was once their surroundings is now a backdrop. Such is a Trailblazer’s life.
Stelle has paid visits to March’s room before, but only in an official capacity. One would be forgiven for calling her a tourist in this regard.
Upon opening the door, Stelle’s body begins to fight her. A week of terrible sleep, constant overexertion and stress are taking their toll. Her joints feel less like bones and more like lit braziers welded to her skeleton, and her head suddenly weighs the same as Jarilo out in the distance.
March takes note and wordlessly guides her towards the bed, lowering her arm around Stelle’s back so as to not aggravate her back on the way down. Once Stelle is safely lowered, March frees her and runs her hand up towards Stelle’s face, looking into painstricken half-lidded eyes.
“My poor bear…” March leans in, lifts up Stelle’s fringe, and kisses her forehead. “What can I do for you?”
The answer does not come immediately. Stelle weakly pulls herself up the bed until her head is perched atop one of March’s heavenly soft pillows.
“Just being here is enough, bun.” Pain has a distinctly transformative effect on Stelle’s wider smile. It no longer looks charming and handsome, but vulnerable. Like a smile drawn upon wet paper.
“Say no more!”
In an impressive display of speed, March kicks off her shoes and dispenses with her jacket in record time, plopping down on the bed before Stelle even realizes she’s dressed down. Emulating a bear trap in the most romantic sense, March’s arms entrap Stelle’s lanky torso, substituting steel for pure love. Stelle meets her weakly, wrapping an arm around her head and stroking her hair idly. Despite the circumstances, this is joyful to the lovesick.
She’s so sweet, ohhhh how did I ever get a catch like this?
Horrible choice of mental words, for March has now tripped and spilled her insecurities everywhere. More than insecurities, it’s the repressed guilt from yesterday and beyond that’s eating away at the fabric of her wellbeing, hundreds of little spirit moths hungry to feast.
“Stelle…”
“March?”
“I’m sorry.”
Stelle looks downwards, utterly befuddled.
“For what? You’ve only done good things for me today.”
“I know, but, but-” An orb of sadness calcifies in March’s weak throat. “I don’t think I’ve earned it. Ever since you woke up, I’ve been so mean and bitchy to you whenever you’re just being you. I don’t feel like I deserve you, I don’t know why you love me, and and and-” Every syllable, March struggles not to cut herself off sobbing.
”Everyone else noticed it, but you haven’t said a word and I-”
Stelle cuts her off. Not abruptly, or roughly, but gently. She places a finger - an ungloved finger - to March’s lips.
“March… You’re right.” These are the worst possible words to hear in this situation.
“Sometimes you are bitchy. Sometimes you’re rude… I don’t care, though.” Stelle grazes her fingernails over March’s tear-stained cheek.
“You’re my Marmar. I don’t want a perfect girl. I want you.”
March, overwhelmed, collapses into Stelle’s chest and lets it all out. Stelle’s poor shirt has been through so much today, its inevitable visit to the washing machine will see it greeted as a saint.
“I hope I never lose you.”
“Me too… Can I tell you something?”
“Uh-huh.” March inhales, filling her throat with all manner of gunk that was on its way out.
“When Cocolia stabbed me and I fell backwards, I didn’t feel anything at first. It didn’t hurt, I wasn’t afraid, and I was in awe of the massive sky I saw above me…” In love with the enormity of it, of its permanence. People live and die, plants grow and wither, cliffs erode and wildlife migrates but the sky is eternal.
“But then I realized I was afraid. Not afraid of dying, no no. I was afraid of never seeing you again. I think that’s why I got back up.”
March is no longer alone, for Stelle has joined her in crying. Tears have been stockpiling since they first fell in love, and they’re all coming out now. Alllll over March’s bed, hair and shirt.
“I love you.” It is March that breaks the silence that threatens to fall upon them. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Marmar. More than words can convey… Hey, promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
“Of course!” March leans in, kisses her nose, and buries herself in the crook of Stelle’s neck, prepping for a grand rest.
She keeps her promise.
March and Stelle drift off within a few minutes, lulled by their respective ice pack and space heater body temperatures. In spite of being notoriously rough sleepers, neither one of them tosses or turns in their slumber. There are no dreams, no thoughts, nothing. Only a wave of contentment, upon which they sail silently through the night.
An hour into their rest, Himeko peeks her head in to ask if March desires a juice or one of the cupcakes that she bought while perusing Jarilo’s various stores. Instead, she finds two of the young Trailblazers locked together, so sound asleep that Himeko could fire a gun and not wake them. A comedy of errors leads to Dan Heng and Welt piling in behind them, and the trio take turns prodding Himeko for not expecting this.
After the impromptu Roast Of Himeko subsides and her bullies depart, the Navigator of the Astral Express discards her heels, tiptoes into the room, and tucks the surprise lovers into bed. They do not stir, even when she accidentally kicks one of March’s plushies that inexplicably produces a song.
She debates leaving them a note, a letter, or what have you. A treat, maybe? Love aboard the Astral Express is uncommon, and has never occurred in Himeko’s tenure aboard the vessel. Even putting aside her official position, Himeko wants to do something to commemorate the occasion, as their friend and queer elder.
But something occurs to Himeko as she watches them sleep, smiles etched on their face so deep that they may be permanent:
These two are so in love that there is no rush.
There’ll be another day to celebrate their love, of that she’s certain.
Himeko smoothes out the covers, moves Stelle’s hair away from her face, and rises to her feet. She carefully picks up her heels, dims the room’s lights, and utters:
“Goodnight, sweethearts.”