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Sinsa opened his wallet, fumbling with the Nightium that would always be too small for his mecha fingers. Now, perhaps one would wonder, why doesn’t he simply switch hands instead so that he can handle the money with his non-gigantic hand? But you see, Sinsa is an absolute fucking dumbass.
A dumbass in love at that too.
“Two boxes of Lumopolis Mooncrown chocolate, you say? Of course, of course! For the cheap price of 1.5 million Nightium, they’ll be yours, sir!” Unfortunately, Lumopolis had run out of chocolates, and Sinsa had to resort to some questionable methods situated in the alleys of Umbraton to procure these gifts. If not for the fact that he’d been able to make some quick bucks from auctioning off pink sandworm scales and some more pay from the Navigator, he wouldn’t have been able to afford these without burning a hole in his pocket.
“Yes, now shut up and hand them over.” Sinsa thrust the money into the seller’s hands, wishing to get out of there as soon as possible. He never liked Umbraton’s dark atmosphere, much less when he seemed to be doing some kind of illicit deal with a backstreet merchant.
“Patience is a virtue, sir! Just hold on for a moment!” The merchant slid his comically large bag of goods off his shoulders and dove into it with almost his whole body. Sinsa wondered how early he got those chocolates if he had to search that deep. A moment later, he popped out of the bag, two heart-shaped containers in his hands and a devious grin on his face. “Here you go! I can guarantee you, these are the real deal, sir!”
“Would you mind if I checked them?” Sinsa pretended to snatch the boxes away, while gingerly making sure that they weren’t damaged.
“Of course not, sir! Only the best of the best goods for my customers!” From the tone of his voice, Sinsa couldn’t tell if it was the money that made him so willing or if he actually ran on a decent moral compass.
Sinsa took a peek inside both of the boxes while making sure that he didn’t spill anything or get dust onto the chocolates. It seemed to be the real thing, with intricate packaging and the correct goods inside. Surely Eve and Cha- ahem, no, no one in particular, would be happy with these.
“See, sir! I told you these are the real thing, hehe.” The merchant rubbed his hands together, even though the weather wasn’t particularly cold.
“Lucky for you, you won’t be eating my wrench today.” Sinsa stuffed the chocolates into his bag and turned around to leave. Fleur and Brock would be waiting outside for him in their car.
“Ah, wait, my good sir! May I ask you a question?” Perhaps Sinsa should’ve expected that the merchant wouldn’t let him go this easily.
“You better make it worth my time,” Sinsa grumbled, hoping to scare the much less bulky merchant off. “What is it?”
“Well you see sir, here in Umbraton, we don’t see the high and mighty Rediesel Wrench leader here very often! Naturally, we want to gather more information about you so that we can serve you better, my good sir!” The merchant didn’t seem to be trying to advertise anything other than the various flyers originally on his backpack.
“Get straight to the point. Stop flattering me.”
“Well, sir, I noticed you bought two boxes of chocolates instead of one. I know you have a sister, so one goes to her, but I can’t help but wonder, sir, who’s the other box for?”
“What if I say it’s for myself?” No one can know it’s for that stupid, dramatic, grey-haired fucker with a pet train. A pet train , of all things.
“Oh, dear, sir… Then may I interest you in some cheaper chocolates meant for solo enjoyment instead? I’m sure they’d fit your taste!” The merchant grinned. As much as Sinsa had a brick for a brain, he was not that dumb to pay even more than what he already did.
“I’ll pass. You take care, I’ll head back to the desert.” Sinsa made sure not to look back this time. Of course the merchant would advertise more things to him.
Getting into Brock and Fleur’s car, Sinsa listened to the idle vrooming sound of the engine and the two’s banter as he, as carefully as possible, put one of the boxes in a little handmade satchel along with a note. Why was he doing this? What was his purpose? To get that grumpy smug fucker who always uses one specific brand of red eyeliner to like him? No fucking way.
“Boss, why is your face so red?” Sinsa heard Brock ask out of the blue. Out of a little panic that probably made him look even more suspicious, Sinsa tried to pretend he was totally not fiddling with something in his bag. “Are you mad?”
“Yes, you guys remember that Illumina guy that had a really big train?” Totally not suspicious.
“Oh, him? Did he do something to you, Boss?”
“Not particularly, just that he’s so damn annoying! I can still hear those dramatic lines of his in my head.” Sinsa huffed, ignoring the gentle smile that came with the words, and the sharp yellow eyes that pierced right through his soul.
“Well, Boss, if you ever need someone to beat him up for ya, I’m your man!” Brock, as usual, also had cement for a brain and fortunately did not notice Sinsa’s cheeks turning even redder.
However, Fleur, being the only person amongst those three with any braincells, noticed Sinsa’s oddities. “Boss Sinsa, are you sure you’re fine? You look very warm--did the air conditioner break again?”
“No, it’s fine. Focus on driving, or Brock’s going to crash into something again.” Sinsa brushed his concerns off.
“Boss, I’m not that bad at this!” Brock said, as he rode over a large rock and Sinsa’s head hit the car’s roof.
Sinsa, too exasperated to say anything more, simply shut his mouth and kept turning the satchel around in his hands. He later realised he might be damaging the goods inside, so he stuffed it into his bag and started tapping his foot instead.
At the Rediesel base, Eve practically ran over to greet Sinsa. “Big brother! You’re back!” she exclaimed, hugging Sinsa as tight as she could. “Did you get the chocolates?”
“Of course, of course.” Sinsa ruffled Eve’s hair and reached into his bag, pulling out one of the boxes. “Here, I made sure that I didn’t get scammed!”
Eve gasped, and took the box, gently cradling it in her fragile hands. “You actually got it!” Opening the box and taking one out to eat, she turned to Sinsa again. “Was it expensive?”
“Not for your brother! It was a piece of cake to buy.” Sinsa laughed, then turned to Fleur and Brock who seemed to be discussing how to replace one of the rearview mirrors that had come off a while ago. “You two, can I borrow the car for a bit later?”
“Of course, Boss! Just a quick refuel and it’ll be good to go!” Brock replied. Fleur still seemed to be fixated on fixing something on the door.
“Where are you going, big brother?” Eve looked up from eating and asked.
“Illumina. I’ve got something there I need to settle.”
“Is it related to that train guy you were talking about earlier?” Brock piped up.
“No, this is another thing,” It was, in fact, not another thing.
“In that case, have a safe trip, Boss! We’ll await your return here.” At least Brock wasn’t one to be too inquisitive. Perhaps his cement-headed thinking had some advantages sometimes.
“You’re leaving again?” Eve seemed a little dismayed. Sinsa sighed--technically, he could just not do what he was about to do. It was a little indecent, after all, yet then his heart would be clawing at him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before dinner,” Sinsa assured her. “It’ll just be for a bit.
“Okay, make sure to come back quick! I’ll ask everyone to prepare something nice, since you’ve been running around the whole day.” Eve nodded, a smile on her face.
“Boss, the car is ready!” From behind was Brock’s voice. Of the duo, Brock was much more outspoken than the other--not that Sinsa had any preference, it was a mere observation. It made sense.
“I’ll be going now, Eve. Remember to take care and drink more water, okay?” Sinsa instructed her as he plopped onto the driver’s seat with his bag, his large figure making the vehicle shake a little when he entered.
“See you, big brother!” Eve waved goodbye, as did Sinsa, as he stepped on the gas and pulled out of the Rediesel camp, heading for a particularly secluded entrance to an Illuminan Undercity.
It’s been a long time since he had to do this. Most of their other meetings had been in the Navigator’s Colossus--a peaceful zone where he didn’t have to pretend to be distant from that person. But recently, due to the Moon-something season… Moonswoon? That person had gotten more busy with his roles in Illumina, and Sinsa had to resort to this method despite that guy’s promise that he’d be free today.
The desert scenery passing by evoked something in Sinsa’s emotions. Something like longing, but for what, he didn’t know. One person in the car, travelling a lone road to somewhere only he knew.
The Undercity loomed ahead of Sinsa as the car screeched to a stop at the designated location the person had asked him to come to. Stepping out of the vehicle, Sinsa slammed the door shut and grabbed the small satchel nestled in his bag, holding it comfortably within his mecha hand. In front of the vehicle was a metal door that blended in almost perfectly with its surroundings--if that person hadn’t told Sinsa of its existence, he wouldn’t have seen it at all.
“Hello?” Sinsa rapped twice on the door, then rapped thrice, and twice again. “Are you there?”
The door creaked open, and out of some kind of unknown instinct, Sinsa hid the satchel behind his back. What was he so scared of? He was going to give the satchel to this person anyways.
“You’re finally here, Sinsa.” The person in the doorway said, smiling, his hair swaying in the slight breeze that started blowing at this impeccably perfect time. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Sinsa wondered why his heart would not stop making such a big deal out of this. It was just a present exchange between acquaintances, he told himself. “It’s good to see you too,” Sinsa breathed, trying to appear normal, “Charon.
Charon smiled and stepped out of the doorway, his coat gently fluttering as he moved. Perhaps it was just because of Sinsa’s own delusions, but he seemed to have applied more eyeliner today, and his clothes looked more ironed than before.
Every time Sinsa looked at Charon, he seemed to notice those very same things. The way his hair always had a few disobedient strands sticking out here and there no matter how brushed it was. The way his long coat fit around his body, and his pistol’s chains lightly clattered as he moved.
What a stupidly, unnecessarily fancy outfit, yet Sinsa wished he could stare at it forever.
“Here, take this.” Trying to get himself out of his reverie, Sinsa stuffed the satchel in his left hand in front of Charon’s face. “It’s for you.”
“Oh?” Charon received the satchel, and made a move to open it. “How intriguing! I had not known you had this side to you, Sinsa.”
Sinsa stopped him from opening the gift. “Don’t open it here. Do it when you're somewhere private.” Honestly, what did he care about that guy opening his gift in front of him! It wasn’t anything confidential or important anyways. Sinsa paid no attention to the stuffy feeling in his chest.
Charon raised an eyebrow. “High and mighty Sinsa, leader of the Rediesel Wrench--where did all your gusto go? Were you not driving here all tough on that rackety convertible of yours just a little while ago?”
“You flatter me too much.” Sinsa did not, in fact, know where his gusto went. “I’ve completed what I came here for. I’ll go now.” As he turned to leave, he felt a tug on his cape.
“So soon? I prepared something for you too, you know.” Charon reached behind him and with a graceful motion, whipped out a neatly wrapped box. It was tied with a red ribbon that turned a spotted white at its ends, and reminded Sinsa of his own hair. “Here, a special gift for you, prepared with the very strings of my heart that you so often tug on.”
Sinsa pretended he did not hear that as he grabbed the gift from Charon. Compared to his mecha hand, it was a dainty little thing, obviously hand-painted and knotted. There was a slight fragrance that Sinsa couldn’t tell on it.
“Now I’ll really go.” Sinsa tucked the giftbox into his bag, and bid Charon goodbye. He paused, and with perhaps a hint of reluctance in his voice, said, “... Thanks for the gift.”
“I must thank you too, my dear friend. I will cherish your present.” Charon bowed. Sinsa wasn’t sure if he was doing that for dramatic effect, or if he was trying to- no, it’s definitely not that. Charon wouldn’t try to woo him… right?
Without another word, Sinsa got back into his car, making sure that Charon wouldn’t see his clumsy fiddling with the ribbon through the door. As he spared one last glance at the Undercity’s secret entrance, he swore he saw Charon smiling and quickly waving at him, before it completely shut.
For some unknown reason, Sinsa felt the urge to call out to him.
Delicately unwrapping the gift, the first thing that caught Sinsa’s eye was a note. It had been neatly folded into a small rectangle, and on it said “For: Sinsa and Sinsa only” in Charon’s signature smooth handwriting.
Rightfully curious about what it said, Sinsa unfolded it and read what it contained.
My Dearest Sinsa
Happy Mooncrown Day! What a coincidence that we’re meeting up today to give each other gifts. Ah, do you think if someone saw us, they’d think we’re a couple? How dramatic, the Rediesel Wrench’s leader and the Illuminan Chief of Transport, spending time together!
Jokes aside, thanks for everything this past year or so. Even though you’re still unable to appreciate the glory that is my acting--you’ll learn one day, I promise--I’ve enjoyed being your friend even if we’re from two completely different factions. I know your daily schedule must be busy since you’re Rediesel’s leader and all, so thank you for taking time off to spend with me.
I packed some cinnamon rolls for you--it’s Illumina tradition to gift these to the precious people in our lives on Mooncrown Day, and I figured, what better person to give these to you than you? I made and baked these by hand with the help of Unimet, please make sure to try them as soon as you can! The warming Luminatics I put on the package will only last so long, and they won’t taste good anymore if they get cold.
I know that this is cheesy and very unbecoming of me as the glorious Charon, Acheron Ferryman, but I hope that we can be friends for even longer--perhaps the rest of our lives, if you’re willing to accompany me to the end of this world.
Yours sincerely, with the warmth of a thousand fires,
Charon
P.S. I promise I won’t break my promise about being free next time! There was something unexpected that came up today :(
Instead of smiling and putting away the letter like a normal person, Sinsa laid down on the front seats of the car, holding the letter above his face, against the sun, reading it over and over. He didn’t understand why he didn’t want to let go of it even though there was obviously more stuff in the box. He thought of Charon’s expression, Charon’s posture while writing the letter. Did he smile? By the lantern light, pen in hand, swiftly scribbling words onto the parchment, twirling his hair with the other hand. Those citrus eyes of his must’ve looked beautiful then, gentle swirling sparkle under the dimly lit night.
And how would he have baked those cinnamon rolls? In his mind, Sinsa imagined Charon sitting in front of an oven, watching the rolls rise as they got baked, resting his chin on his palms, even though he knew they wouldn’t be ready for another hour or two. Would he be wearing an apron from making the rolls? Would his hands be unwashed, with remnants of flour and dough still on them, because he was too entranced by the rolls slowly puffing up in the oven?
If Sinsa was there, would Charon ask him to taste the rolls after they were done? Sinsa would have been annoyed at various amounts of dough and flour getting stuck in his mecha hand, because then his joints wouldn’t move as smoothly as he’d like them to. Would Charon have laughed, then gently cleaned them out for him under the running water, as they stood shoulder to shoulder?
Would Charon teasingly hide the letter from him as he wrote it, a cheeky smile on his face, as he tells Sinsa he can’t see it yet? And as Sinsa wraps his arms around Charon’s thin shoulders, playfully trying to catch a glimpse of the letter, what would he see then? Would it still contain the same content as the letter before him right now?
What would they be to each other, in that scenario?
Sinsa pushed himself back up into a sitting position, igniting the car’s engine. It was getting late, and he’d promised Eve that he’d be back before dinner. No matter how much he wanted to linger at this place, he didn’t want to break that promise.
The sun would almost be setting over the horizon, and in the distance, Sinsa thought he could see the silhouette of Charon facing the sun, the desert wind brushing his hair, and Sinsa wondered how one person could look so effortlessly ephemeral.
When Sinsa returned to the Rediesel base, dinner preparations were already under way. As usual, Eve was the first to greet him, tugging him to the bonfire where everyone else was starting to gather around. Sinsa still had Charon’s gift in his left hand, hidden safely behind his back where no one would suspect a thing.
At this kind of dinners, the atmosphere was always warm and exciting, with chatter about the past days’ events of each person being passed around. To Sinsa, Rediesel Wrench was like a big family of people from all kinds of different lives, gathered in one place, relying on each other. Even if none of them were blood-related.
As Sinsa munched on a stick of roasted sandworm meat, he heard Eve scoot up next to him. “Big brother, what’s that in your hand?” she asked, and Sinsa only then noticed that a part of the box’s ribbon was dangling out of the gaps between his fingers.
“A present that the Illumina guy gave to me.” No one can know about Charon.
“Are you close to him?” Eve asked, a loaf of bread in her hands. That reminded Sinsa--there were some cinnamon rolls in the box too.
“Just acquaintances.” If anyone had even half a braincell, they’d see through that lie. “Acquaintances” wouldn’t give each other hand-wrapped gifts on Mooncrown Day, the day where lovers profess to each other. Not that he and Charon had that relationship in any way, unless…
No, no unless. Sinsa will not let himself think such thoughts.
Thankfully, Eve did not pick up on the lie, and simply nodded in acknowledgement. Sinsa finished his sandworm roast and reached into the gift box, taking out two cinnamon rolls. He handed one to Eve.
“Where did you get this from?” Eve asked, taking a bite. “It’s delicious… and soft and sweet!”
“The Illumina guy also gave it to me. He said it was custom there to give cinnamon rolls to people close to them on Mooncrown Day.” Sinsa took a bite of his own cinnamon roll, almost falling into the fragrant heaven that it was. Sweet and soft, yet still bearing a hint of spices. Slightly burnt, leaving an aftertaste in Sinsa’s mouth. “Not that I’m close to him or anything.”
“But if you’re not close to him, then why would he give you these?” Eve mused, a carefree frown on her face. She smiled again when she noticed Fleur and Brock approaching them, and waved at the two men. “Fleur, and Brock! It’s good to see you two.”
“Hello, Eve.” Fleur nodded and waved back. “Tell your brother to drive more carefully next time, there was quite a bit of sand stuck in some parts of the car’s underside.”
“Oh, okay! Big brother, did you hear that? You better not go too fast next time!” Eve grinned.
Meanwhile, Sinsa seemed to notice Fleur looking rather… bewilderedly at the cinnamon roll in his hand. “Fleur, is something wrong?” Sinsa said as he took another bite out of it. “You should try one of these if that’s what you wanted to ask, they’re really good.”
“Ah! N-no, it’s not that…” Fleur snapped back to attention, frantically rejecting Sinsa’s offer. “Er… I just remembered I have something to fix, see you in a while, boss!” He promptly dragged Brock, who seemed to be about to speak up, away, an unreadable, possibly flustered expression on his face.
Sinsa finished the last of the cinnamon roll in his hands and reached for another. “Wonder what that was about. It is a real Illumina custom to do this, right?”
“Maybe that’s what he was confused about, because he didn’t think you had any friends there.”
“Hm…” Sinsa thought about it. Thinking about it that way wouldn’t be too surprising, but from Fleur’s expression, it had to be something different. He didn’t just look confused, but also a little awkward. Sinsa didn’t know why; did he know something more about the custom than Charon had let on?
But if Fleur wanted to tell him about it, he already would’ve, so Sinsa didn’t question it further. He must have his own reasons for this, and maybe something did come up suddenly. After all, Rediesel’s equipment wasn’t anywhere as pristine as that in, say, Illumina or Lumopolis.
After dinner, Sinsa returned to his quarters, and slipped the note out of its box again. It was a little crumpled from the journey back here, and Sinsa did his best to smoothen it out so it would look more like something Charon would give--pristine and polite. Under the dim light of his room, dust swirling around him, Sinsa read the letter yet again.
He didn’t understand what it was about it that evoked such longing within him, and brought the comforting, fleeting image of Charon, smiling and laughing with him, to his mind. Charon, who had probably never eaten roasted sandworm in his life. He’d probably hate it. Charon, who would definitely get along with Fleur as they ramble on and on about engineering. Fleur would probably love to study Other End too.
Charon, who could play the piano so, sitting on Lepidoz’s bridge, playing that instrument, the moonlight spilling over his slender figure, reflecting off his hair, as if he were a star that had fallen to the earth. Gentle melodies that dance about in the night, a moment of respite and solitude. A place that, for just one night, would belong to the two of them, as the universe ever so slowly rotates in the sky, as wisps of clouds blow by.
He wondered what song Charon would be playing.
The moon was lonely today, and so were the stars, as Sinsa laid his head in his arms and fell asleep in a field of camellias, dancing with the chalk-haired man of his dreams.
---
“That’s all for today, sir!” The Illumina soldier confirmed, saluting Charon. “Sorry that we had to call you back on such short notice, sir!”
“Not a problem! It is still my duty to take care of the transportation--you made the right decision to call me back today!” Charon stood up, dusting his coat off. “I’ll take my leave now. All of you be sure to rest too, don’t let me catch you staying up too much!”
“Yes, sir!” The engineers chanted in unison as Charon walked through the depot’s exit. Once he was out of sight of his employees, Charon reached into his coat’s inner pocket to retrieve the gift that Sinsa had given him
Walking along the streets of the still-rebuilding Undercity 27, Charon listened to the constant hum of the Undercity, the clattering of metal and cement, the roaring of machines and the chatter of all the late night workers as he fidgeted with the satchel in his hands. In the Undercity, the boundary between day as night was blurred as metal walls lined every inch of the beneath-ground metropolis. Only by going up to the surface using a lift situated within the tower at the very center of the Undercity could one see the sky.
Or, alternatively, using the secret door located at the south side of the Undercity, heading to the desert.
Charon made sure to hide the satchel from whoever he came across that talked to him. Illumina was still at odds with the Rediesel Wrench--if Reinhardt found out about him meeting Sinsa outside of the Colossus, the consequences would be less than pleasant for him.
Yet, on this Mooncrown Day, he went ahead and met with Sinsa anyway.
As Charon stepped on the lift that would take him to his quarters, he noticed his right foot tapping the floor. He was getting a little impatient--his clothes felt rougher than usual, and the air felt stuffy on his face.
“Oh, it’s you, Charon! You’re finally off work, nya.” As the lift dinged and Charon alighted, Philyshy’s voice caught his attention.
“Philyshy,” Charon greeted, curtsying. “It’s good to see you. Have you not signed off for the night yet?”
“I’m hungry, so I went out looking for fish, nya. I was just going to go to bed, then you came out of the lift!” Philyshy said. “Speaking of, nya, isn’t today Mooncrown Day?”
“Yes, it is.” Charon nodded as he unlocked his room’s door. “Did you have anyone in mind for this day, Philyshy?”
“Sadly not, nya… But Philyshy will have someone soon! Philyshy is sure of it!” Philyshy seemed less displeased than excited. “What about you, Charon nya? Did you have anyone?”
“Well, an artist’s greatest gift is loneliness, as I have said. Days like this, I’m more suited to spending them by myself.” That was a lie, a painful lie that Charon told himself. If only that red-headed hunk didn’t exist.
“That’s true, nya… Well, see you tomorrow! Philyshy is tired, nya!” Philyshy entered her room and closed the door behind her, leaving Charon alone in the corridor.
Sometimes, he envied how carefree she was, being able to live without things holding her back, even if they both belonged to the Support Division of Illumina.
Charon’s own door creaked close behind him, as he stepped onto the metal floor of his chambers. Click, went the light switch beside the door, and the room brightened. It wasn’t a big place in any regard--in fact, Charon much preferred staying on the Colossus instead. Alas, the Navigator had his own matters to attend to as well, and he could only stay here for the time being.
With a wave, Charon beckoned Other End to emerge from the walls. At least during the night, no one would mind if he went out on a spin on his train. The only thing he would be worried about, would be if some emergency happened during then. How would he explain to Reinhardt that he’d been wandering around the sky after dark?
Sitting down at his table, Charon swept the scraps of metal still on it aside, remnants of a project that he had been working on the last time he was here. He’d brought it over to the Colossus in the end, because there were more resources there, and being able to use Fireflies was definitely much more efficient.
Quietly, Charon opened the satchel, and retrieved a note. It was the opposite of neat, even though it was obvious that its sender had done its best to fold it as neatly as his clumsy hands would allow him to. On its cover, in scraggly letters, “To: Charon” was written. The paper used to write the note was dry and yellow from sun exposure, stained with ink in a few areas.
Opening the note, Charon read what Sinsa had to say.
Dear
To Charon,
I cannot believe that I am writing this. Fuck you for convincing me to do this, I will never forgive you.
A while ago, Eve said that she wanted some of Lumopolis’s Mooncrown Day chocolates, and she couldn’t finish them in the end, so here are the leftovers. I promise it’s not a new box of chocolates. Make sure to refrigerate them if you can’t finish them all in one sitting (weak) or they’ll melt.
You know, two months ago, I would have never in my life thought I’d be friends with an Illuminan of all people. I will never forget what Illumina did to Eve, and I will never forgive it either. Even though I don’t hold a grudge against you personally, I hope you understand that. I think you’re not that bad of a person, or a friend.
I quite like spending time with you, actually, but don’t let that get to your head or anything. I hope you enjoy the chocolates. Also, you should come to the desert sometime, our head mechanic here was from Illumina and I think you’d get along well with him. Both of you nutheads are obsessed about mechanisms.
Sinsa
P.S. Fuck you >:(
While reading the letter, Charon had already gotten the box of chocolates out to eat. Sinsa was most definitely lying about it being half-eaten--Charon hadn’t even gotten through a quarter of the chocolates, and it still had the seal on it when Charon took it out too.
How bold-faced, but also how endearing.
Charon never thought of himself as someone very interested in finding a partner, even if his acting roles say otherwise. Even so, it seems that those feelings of attachment have found their way to him regardless, as he read the note over and over, thinking about how Sinsa would look writing it. He was a fairly large person, so Charon imagined him hunched over a table, a scratchy pen in his hand, a frown on his face, furiously scribbling on the piece of paper.
Mooncrown chocolates would always sell out very fast--there was no way that Sinsa got a pristine case of some on Mooncrown Day itself without resorting to some questionable means, as cases bought a day or two ago wouldn’t taste so fresh. Thinking about where Sinsa had to go to obtain it, and how he might’ve looked like then amused Charon. A large, bulking man with hair the colour of flames buying chocolate in a heart-shaped container. It must’ve been an interesting sight to behold.
And Charon wondered, what it would be like if he’d been there with him. He wasn’t one to visit the desert often. The wind gusts there would probably blow all his hair into his mouth, and Sinsa would laugh while trying to help him with it. Perhaps he’d finally end up tying his hair again in forever, just because of the wind.
Outside Charon’s room’s window, the Undercity was going to rest too, like a giant factory grinding to a halt. One by one, the remaining lights of various shops and workplaces switched off, as more citizens returned to their quarters to rest. Beside Charon, Other End was resting too--thin wisps of red steam emanating from her chimney, and her headlights dimmed.
A sudden longing to see the sky surged up Charon’s body, but where he stayed was nowhere close to the central life--he could only use his imagination for now.
So he thought of himself sitting at the bridge of Rediesel’s colossus, playing the piano just like how he would on the Navigator’s Colossus. And Sinsa would be standing beside him, gazing at the moon as melodies flowed out of Charon’s fingers, prancing about in the still night air. The moonlight spills over Sinsa’s hair, enveloping him in an ethereal light, as if part of the sun had fallen down to the earth. There would be only the two of them, basking in starlight, as the universe ever so slowly rotates in the sky, as wisps of clouds blow by.
The clock on Charon’s wall ticked--it was getting late. If Charon didn’t want to wake up bleary-eyed tomorrow, he should rest for the night.
And so he laid his head on his arms, a relaxed smile on his face, a finished box of chocolates at the side, as he drifted off to sleep in a field of camellias, dancing with the scarlet-haired man of his dreams.