Chapter Text
You descend the passenger cabin of the Astral Express, careful not to disturb any of your colleagues residing in the adjacent rooms. Since joining them, you’ve had to scrounge for a place to sleep every night; as all the Express’ cabins are currently occupied. This does little to upset you though, you’re just lucky some kind-hearted people decided to take you in despite the complicated circumstances of your situation. And by kind-hearted, you mean willing to not treat you like a guinea pig to run some simulated tests (thanks Herta).
In lieu of your own room, Pom-Pom has graciously allowed you to sleep in the parlor car for the time being; at least until a room can be freed up for you use. Tonight, however, you’ll have to seek refuge in a different area of the Express; preferably in someone else’s abode.
Out of everyone in your found family, there’s only one person you would assume to be awake at this ungodly hour. You walk up to the door and mentally prepare yourself before giving it a soft couple of knocks.
“Yes?” A voice answers from behind the door.
“Mr. Yang? It’s me,” you respond. There’s a slight pause and some shuffling before the sound of a lock can be heard from the other side. You take a step back as the door slides open to reveal the man in question.
“Good evening, I wasn’t expecting you to still be awake at this hour. Is something the matter?” Mr. Yang asks, leaning against the door frame. You look him up and down, not used to seeing him in anything but his usual trailblazing attire. He’s dressed in a simple white t-shirt and flannel bottoms, socks adorned with patterns of robots wearing party hats of various different designs. How adorable.
“No, nothing’s the matter. Ah, actually, Pom-Pom kicked me out of the parlor car so I— uh, have nowhere to sleep for the night,” you reveal sheepishly, rocking back and forth on your heels.
“You look guilty, did you do something to agitate Pom-Pom?” Mr. Yang presses. You let out an exaggerated gasp and clutch your chest.
“How dare you, sir! I would never ever do anything to upset Pom-Pom,” you respond in your most offended tone of voice. Mr. Yang raises an eyebrow at you and crosses his arms. You look away as your face starts to heat up. “At least not on purpose. You see, Pom-Pom was really, really sad when I came back to the Astral Express today. They said something about feeling sentimental over some song that’s playing on the phonograph, and I wanted to do something about it.”
Hopefully that’s enough of an explanation.
“And?” Mr. Yang prompts, sensing your hesitation.
Dammit.
“And… I thought that… maybe, pushing a mug... off a table would... cheer them up, ” you whisper the last bit, embarrassed. Mr. Yang lifts one hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose before letting out the dorkiest snort you’ve ever heard. The heat from your face creeps to the back of you neck as you let out an exasperated huff.
“It’s not funny! I wanted to distract them and thought this would be a good way to— I said stop laughing!” You interject as the man before you crumples in his own laughter. You turn on your heels with a hmph , wanting to leave behind this conversation immediately before you can make a fool of yourself any further.
“No, wait!” Mr. Yang says as he reaches to grab your wrist before you can distance yourself from him. This startles you, but you don’t retract your hand from his grip. Surprisingly, his fingers feel rough and callous in comparison to the soft skin of your arm. “Ah, my apologies.”
Mr. Yang lets go of you in order to gather himself; a phantom touch still lingers on your wrist where he releases you. Now it was your turn to cross your arms, giving a small pout to convey your displeasure.
“I’ll accommodate you for tonight, I wouldn’t want to leave a young lady to wander around this late,” he continues, opening the door wider and stepping to the side to let you through.
“Wow, you’re such a gentleman. How will I ever repay you?” You respond flatly. Internally, however, you give yourself a pat on the back for being able to score a place to sleep for the night.
“No payment needed, I only ask for your forgiveness for my reaction to your… situation.”
“Forgiven. Nice place you got here,” you reply, looking around Mr. Yang’s cabin. Albeit being plain, especially in comparison to March 7th’s room, the cabin is decorated tastefully in wooden furniture and shelves upon shelves of books and other items. The room itself is quite dark, lit only by a single lantern placed on a large desk topped with piles of papers.
“Please excuse the mess, and feel free to move anything to make yourself more comfortable.”
“It’s fine, I kinda like it. It feels very… you— if that makes any sense.”
“Disorganized and unkempt?” Mr. Yang questions, sliding the door back and locking it. He pauses for a second before going back and unlocking it again.
“I was thinking more studious and sophisticated, like one of those professors that all the students have a crush on,” you answer back as you hop onto the bed, cringing slightly at the loud creaking sound made by the bedframe. “Sorry about that.”
Mr. Yang makes a gesture to ignore the bedframe before moving to the armchair positioned in front of his desk. He turns it slightly, so that it’s facing you, before he sits down.
“I… don’t know about that,” Mr. Yang starts, clearing his throat. “I think I’m way past the age of anyone having a crush on me.”
You bolt upright from your comfortable position on Mr. Yang’s bed to give him an incredulous look.
“What makes you say that, Mr. Yang? I never would’ve assumed you were as old as you say you are just based off of appearance alone.”
“You don’t have to flatter me, young miss. I already said you could stay in my room for the night,” Mr. Yang replies, giving a self-deprecating laugh. You feel your heart break a little at his lack of self-confidence.
You sit crisscross on his bed and give him the most serious look you can muster. How dare this man be blind to his own looks, he can’t be that dense.
“I would never say things to try and gain favors from anyone, especially from someone I think of as highly as I do you, Mr. Yang,” you begin, straightening your back for emphasis. “I actually think you’re a very handsome man, and I’d totally have a crush on you if I were your student.”
Mr. Yang is taken aback by the sincerity of your words. He shifts a little in his seat, crossing his legs before uncrossing them again and folding his hands on his lap.
“I— well, that’s very…”
Soon the weight of your words hit you like a speeding Starskiff, and your cheeks start to burn a bright shade of crimson. Your previously serious demeanor crumbles as you lift your hands up to cover your face from embarrassment.
“I- I mean, you don’t have to be in a position of power for me to have a crush on you! I’d have a crush on you right now— I mean, it’s not like I do or anything. B- but, hypothetically, I would if— no, that sounds weird, I SOUND SO WEIRD!”
You’re practically screeching by the time you decide to take Mr. Yang’s pillow from next to you and stuff it in your face to stop your ramblings. The scent of his pillow is strong and it overwhelms your senses to the point you start to feel lightheaded from anxiety, embarrassment, and… affection? That doesn’t seem right…
After a moment, and a couple of muffled groans into the sweet-smelling pillow, you sneak a glance at Mr. Yang. He’s still seated on the armchair, not having moved an inch after your outburst. His fingertips are lightly touching the bottom of his glasses while his palm obscures the bottom half of his face. His ears are tinted slightly pink, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the lantern light or not.
“Mr. Yang?” You try, releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“It’s fine, thank you for the compliment,” Mr. Yang says, shakily. “You’re… no, never mind. Thank you.”
Your heart starts to sink. You look down at the pillow in your arms to hide your shame.
“... I’m sorry for making things awkward.”
“It’s— not that. I was just a bit surprised is all.”
You peer up again and see Mr. Yang looking at you with a small smile on his face. You feel a bit of relief knowing that you didn’t ruin everything between the two of you, especially after having gotten so close within the past hour or so you’ve spent together.
“Maybe it’s time we head to bed, it’s getting pretty late and we don’t want to oversleep,” Mr. Yang breaks the silence to redirect the conversation elsewhere. You didn’t even consider the time, everything happened so quickly.
“You’re right,” you agreed, nodding your head. “I should head to bed soon if I wanna sneak out of here before any of the others can see me leave your room. Don’t want them making any assumptions.”
Ah crap, did I make things weird again?
Mr. Yang nodded his head in response, and that puts you at ease again.
“You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the armchair so I won’t be in your way.”
“A- are you sure? I feel bad for barging in here and stealing your bed.”
“You didn’t barge in here, I invited you into my room. Don’t worry about the bed, I’d rather you be able to sleep comfortably,” Mr. Yang says as he begins to shift his body to sit in a more comfortable position on the chair. “You are my guest after all, it would be rude of me to make you sleep anywhere but a bed. Especially… after you’ve shown me such a good time tonight.”
Your heart flutters in your chest, or is it your stomach? Either way, his words make something inside of you ache and your hands start to feel clammy from all your emotions. Before you can say anything else though, Mr. Yang shuts off the lantern on his desk to plunge the room into semi-darkness; some of the knick-knacks on his shelves emanating a little light of their own to cast peculiar shadows on the walls of the small cabin.
You scoot up the bed and pull the blanket over you while you lay in the fetal position; arms snaked around Mr. Yang’s pillow so you can still smell his scent without compromising your breathing. You begin to close your eyes, bringing you leg up to wrap around the pillow slightly.
“Good night, Mr. Yang,” you throw out into the void, unsure of whether or not you’ll get a response.
“Good night, young miss.”