Work Text:
“Weird…”
“Did you find out anything, Mr. Yang?” Sunday asked the older man. He didn’t answer immediately, frowning as he swiped at the communication hub. They had borrowed a small pod from the Express to visit the Space Station and consult Madam Herta, but for some reason the entire place was plunged into darkness and seemed devoid of any life.
“There’s no response from any staff….” Mr. Yang huffed as he gave up on the screen. “The entire place seems to be running on the last dregs of its emergency power….”
In the dim light of the fluorescent strips that ran around the room, he could see Mr. Yang had begun to pry open a panel on the wall behind the console with the screen. Sunday was still not familiar with all the powers Mr.Yang wielded exactly, but in the dim light he could tell some of them were being used. Mr. Yang’s eyes were different when he used these other abilities, their usual warm deep gold replaced by rings of starlight red.
Sunday turned back towards the door that led further into the Space Station. It was amazing how doors that were equipped to move at the slightest tap of an access card could be sealed so tightly shut otherwise. He moved closer to the doors, hand resting at their seam as he gave a perfunctory push, and when they didn’t budge he leaned into them with a sigh.
Tuning out Mr. Yang’s increasingly technical mumbling, he found himself thinking about the situation at hand. It was rather peculiar. According to Mr.Yang, the Space Station should be able to contact the Express in case of any emergencies…to go dark like this suddenly was rather concerning. What if-
“Aha! Got it!”
The other man’s excited exclamation was the only warning he got before the door in front of him slid open silently, almost leading to him stumbling right through into the pitch black beyond it. Thankfully he pulled back in time, Mr.Yang’s hand already on his back to steady him. Sunday ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the contact.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized sheepishly, “I got the door open for now but beyond this point even the emergency lights don’t seem to be working.”
He moved away and before Sunday could mourn the warmth of that steadying hand, he found himself panicking when the older man moved towards the dark entrance.
“Mr. Yang, wait!” Sunday exclaimed, reaching out to stop him. He was relieved when his companion paused. His wings fluttered nervously , “It’s pitch black in there and while I don’t sense anything sentient nearby….it doesn’t seem very safe to just walk in.”
Mr. Yang blinked but didn’t argue. Then he looked down between them and Sunday belatedly realized he was still clutching on to Mr. Yang’s sleeve. He let go of the fabric like he had just touched a hot candle. He felt his face grow warm and he fought the urge to cover his face with his wings, hoping the dim lighting concealed any redness of his face.
“Apologies, you’re right”, Mr. Yang relented. “While it isn’t entirely pitch black for me, the visibility is still quite low.”
Before Sunday could ask how in Harmony’s name he was able to see anything at all, Mr. Yang reached back and took his hand in his.
Mr. Yang was holding his hand.
He was holding hands with Mr. Yang.
“Come, it wouldn’t be wise to get separated. I’ll make us a-”
It was the one without the glove too. It felt so, so warm. Sunday didn’t know whether to thank the Aeons or curse them for the gloves he always wore. If he hadn’t worn gloves…Sunday found himself imagining their bare hands locked together in a hold like this and felt like he was being filled with light.
“Or… you could do that.” Mr. Yang said, “Nice thinking, Sunday.”
Sunday startled when he realized he was literally lighting up. The glow of his halo was bright enough to light the path ahead. Mr. Yang was thankfully too busy examining the new path, allowing Sunday time to get his face and halo under control.
“It seems even the large windows have been sealed to block out the light from outside. What on Earth is going on here?” Mr. Yang muttered. He then glanced back at Sunday,”I do hope keeping the halo up that bright isn’t a strain on you? If so, I can-”
Before the other man could even consider unlinking their hands, Sunday tightened his hold the slightest. “It is no burden, I am glad I could be of help to Mr. Yang”
“Alright then, but be sure to let me know if it gets tiresome” Mr. Yang said, considerate and thoughtful as ever. He offered a reassuring squeeze with his hand and Sunday embarrassingly felt the halo brighten behind him. “Come on, let’s head for the Master Control Zone first.”
Sunday stabilized the glow emitted by his halo. His personal crisis over such a blaring tell can come later. Right now, Mr. Yang needed his help. The people who took him in so kindly needed his help. He could not let them down. He mustered up a serene and calm smile, one befitting the former Bronze Melodia.
“I’ll be relying on Mr. Yang to show me the way then.”