Chapter Text
A loud crash woke Sunday from his slumber.
Bleary eyes roam around, trying to find the source.
Another crash.
His attention drifted to the twins room, Stelle and Caelus.
A loud bang made Sunday wince.
His nap should have been relaxing.
With furrowed brows he stood up and walked up the stairs.
Pausing in front of the Trailblazer's door, Sunday could hear some rustling.
Should I knock?
His answer is a body, colliding with his own.
"What-"
"Oh, sorry, Sunday. March texted. I have to go, bye!"
Stelle was gone, before Sunday could even try to reply.
He sighed.
And with a slight shake of his head he descends the stairs.
What to do now?
His stomach rumbles.
Slightly embarrassed his eyes search around but aside from him the party car is empty.
Curious about the time, he grabs his phone.
15.35.
Time for a Snack.
He puts his phone away and studies Shush.
He remembers Mr. Yang telling him about it. It serves cocktails and loves to tell jokes, but you could also eat a salad.
Sunday liked the salad well enough, he could eat it again, without the wrenches.
He would just leave it in the bowl, like last time and give it back to Shush.
Before, he didn't have to talk to Shush alone, Mr. Yang helped him.
Unsure on how to proceed but having to get used to it Sunday decided to just try his luck.
He grabs the seat and sits down.
His fingers fiddle nervously with each other, a bad habit from his childhood.
His mind going miles, trying to form a sentence.
"Shush-"
"At your service. Do you want a meal or a drink? I could even tell you a joke if you want."
"No- I- ... I mean.. yes.. I.. I -"
Frustraded Sunday shuts his mouth.
His hands automatically squeeze each other, hard.
In the mean time Welt entered the party car, his own hunger for a Snack and meeting a certain Halovian on his mind.
His attention is fixed on the very figure of the young man who can't seem to escape his mind.
He's sitting in front of Shush, trying to talk to him but failing, his nerves standing in his way.
Quite endearing, though I should help him out, his hands deserve a break.
"Good evening, Sunday. Do you need help?"
Welt waits patiently for Sunday to answer.
Sunday opens his mouth but his stomach beats him to it, rumbling and demanding food.
Welt can't help but chuckle.
How could his own body betray him like that?
Sunday's hands grip his thighs and his wings cover his face.
Welt unterstands by now.
Sunday's embarrassed.
He always covers his face with his wings, when he's embarrassed.
Welt studies Sunday carefully.
Not wanting to aggravate him future and losing his connection to the younger man.
Still, his reaction is delightfully sweet.
Welt grabs the chair next to him and takes a seat, putting his cane down.
His hands search for Sunday's, pulling them off his thighs.
His thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the back of Sunday's hands.
Sunday hears a chair scraping the floor and a cane being set down.
What comes next scandalises him.
Mr. Yang's hands find his own and he's being soothed by the older man.
He gulps nervously.
Then Welt starts talking again.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Hunger is a basic need. A good meal gives the body strength to withstand whatever should come your way."
Tentatively, Sunday wills his wings to lower but he can't look Welt in the eyes.
Instead his focus is on his hands in the grasp of Mr. Yang.
His words still echoing in his mind.
You're one of my trailblazing goals.
"Sunday?"
A noncommittal hum escapes his lips.
"Do you want to eat the salad that you liked or should we go and see what we find in the buffet car?"
"Whichever you like, Mr. Yang."
"Sunday, I already told you. You can call me Welt. And I asked you a question."
The slight dominant undertone didn't go unnoticed.
Sunday finally lifted his head, locking eyes with Welt.
"I want to go with you to the buffet car"
"Fantastic!"
Welt lets go of Sunday's hands, much to the latters dismay.
He grabs his cane and stands up.
Now, Sunday has to look up.
He sees a friendly face.
Eager to not be left alone, he rises as well.
Both of them quite happy about the company, walk side by side to exit the party car.
And if their hands are touching, no one will care.