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Sunday had seen light as he fell from grace, his eyes falling shut into darkness as his sister hugged him. He expected darkness would be all that awaited him after the sins he had committed—whether that be a prison cell or death, he did not know—so he was surprised to see light when his eyes opened again, surprised to see a white hospital ceiling instead of a prison cell.
Though he wasn’t entirely off on his assumption, as metal chains rattled when he sat up. There was one attached to each of his arms and legs, preventing him from leaving the bed. He groaned, pain shooting through his body when he moved. He felt like he had been hit by a train—well, he wasn’t wrong.
Faint footsteps quickly grew louder— someone was coming.
Sunday quickly laid back down, closing his eyes and feigning sleep. The footsteps stopped for a brief moment, the sound of a card being swiped before they resumed. The next time they stopped was right beside his bed. He breathed in and out slowly, praying his performance was enough to fool whatever guard was checking up on him.
It seemed to have worked, as after a moment, the footsteps began to walk away. Sunday quickly sat up, refusing to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. He raised the metal chain wrapped around one of his wrists, bringing it down hard on the guard’s head. The guard crumpled like paper in the rain, hitting the top of the bed on his way down. Sunday grabbed the guard before he could fall, snatching any keys he had on him before letting him crash gently to the floor.
Sunday tried different keys until he found the one that unlocked his chains, shame washing over as each one slipped off of him. They thought he was dangerous enough to need such heavy restraints… He brushed it aside, there was no time for remorse—not that he deserved it anyway.
He stood up, making sure he made as little sound as possible as he approached the locked door to his room. He swiped the keycard, waiting a moment as he listened for any footsteps. When he heard none, he pulled the door open just enough for him to peek out. As expected, there was no one in the hall. But as a now wanted criminal, Sunday couldn’t afford to not be cautious.
Sunday snuck down the hall, hiding behind corners whenever anyone passed by—whether they were guards, doctors or other patients; he could not risk being caught. He was light on his feet, making as little noise as possible to not arouse suspicion. A few times he was nearly caught, barely able to hide at the last second before someone rounded the corner and spotted him. He cursed his injuries every time, his body not fully recovered from the fall yet—though thankfully nothing dire enough that would require him to stay trapped in the hospital. Despite his setbacks, Sunday was able to make out without anyone noticing in the end.
Sunday breathed a sigh of relief, though it did not last long.
Alarms blared, the guards finally noticing his absence. Guards rushed out of the building, giving chase as Sunday sprinted away from them. Sunday knew the family’s tricks inside and out, easily able to evade them as they hunted him down. Yet no matter how many times they lost his trail, they refused to give up searching for him until they were on his heels once more. Though he had one advantage that they did not, Sunday knew this city better than the back of his hand—possibly even better than he knew himself. And so he always managed to escape their grasp, no matter how hard their claws nicked him.
Sunday fled, hiding around corners and running as fast as he could till his feet led him to the only place left for him in Penacony—Dreamjolt Hostelry. He burst into the lounge, swiftly walking over to the bartender.
“Where is Gallagher?” He gasped out, attempting to catch his breath.
“Hello to you too.” Siobhan chuckled, looking up from the Memory Zone Meme she was petting. Sunday remembered Gallagher had called her Sleepie. It was strange, was it possible for such a thing to look sad…?
“Yes, hello. Where is he?”
“There’s no time, the guards are hot on your trail.”
Most would not have noticed the slight changes to the woman’s face, but Sunday was not most. He was a professional at reading others, and despite her efforts to hide it, he could see her face drop when he mentioned Gallagher. Sunday’s heart sank.
“Take him and go to Dreamflux Reef.” Siobhan spoke to Sleepie, ignoring Sunday’s question entirely.
“No, I’m not leaving until you answer my question.” He tried to protest but Siobhan just smiled sadly.
Sunday didn’t want to think about what that meant.
“Take care of Sleepie, you two will need each other.”
That was the last thing Sunday heard before a sharp pain burst through his chest and everything faded to black.
The experience of getting transported to Dreamflux Reef wasn’t any better the second time.
Sunday woke up on the ground of Dreamflux Reef to a very sad Memory Zone Meme trying to cuddle up to him like she was a dog and not a gigantic and quite honestly terrifying creature.
He eyed her warily, as the last two times he’s interaction with her she’s stabbed him through the chest. Sure it was how she carried people from the Golden Hour to Dreamflux Reef, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant.
Though it seemed to be the wrong course of action, as Sleepie began to cry. Sunday didn’t know a Memory Zone Meme was even capable of such a feat, yet the proof was right in front of him. He froze, unsure of what to do. Her cries grew louder and louder, so Sunday placed a hand on her head.
“There, there…” Sunday awkwardly pet her, doing his best to comfort the crying Meme. It's been many many years since he last comforted someone, let alone anyone that wasn’t his sister, and so he felt out of his depths like a fish thrown onto land. “It's okay.”
Though even he himself didn’t believe his own words.
Despite his mediocre attempts at comfort, it seemed to work well enough for Sleepie. Her cries gradually grew quieter and quieter until they came to a stop. She cuddled up to him, gently placing her head onto his lap. If he listened closely, it almost sounded like she was purring.
…He supposed Sleepie was cute in her own way.
“Ah, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Micah stumbled upon Sunday being nearly squished by the large Meme. “What brings you here?”
“...Where’s Gallagher?” Sunday demanded despite knowing he would not like the answer.
Micah’s face grew sad and Sunday feared the worst.
“...Follow me.”
Micah led Sunday and Sleepie a few streets before stopping in front of a small graveyard. Three plaques littered the ground, but it was a hound shaped statue that caught his attention. Sunday knew the horrible truth before Micah even had the chance to speak.
“...Gallagher is gone.”
Sunday felt his world shatter, time seemingly coming to a stop. Since he had entered the bar, Sunday had had a feeling something was wrong—but he never imagined it would be this wrong. Or perhaps he had, but just didn’t want to accept it. The clues were all there—Siobhan’s refusal to tell where Gallagher’s whereabouts, Sleepie’s sadness, Micah’s solemn expression.
Sleepie nudged against him, trying to cuddle up to him again. Something wet fell onto her, confusing him. He swiped a gloved hand across his cheeks, surprised when it came back wet. Sunday didn’t know when he had started crying, nor did he know the last time he had cried. He was sure it's been many many years—back when he was but a boy, back before the order had sunk its claws into him, back when it was just him and Robin all alone on a destroyed planet.
Micah left, giving him the space he needed to process his grief.
Sunday wrapped his arms around Sleepie, hugging the Meme close as sobs wracked his body. The two held each other close as they cried together, mourning the loss of Gallagher. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, doing their best to comfort each other, but eventually he pulled away, remorse gnawing at his poor shattered heart.
The grave of the man he loved was right in front of him, yet Gallagher never knew how much Sunday had loved him.
Regret haunted him—since Gallagher was gone, Sunday could never confess his feelings. He wished he had done so when Gallagher was still alive, even if it would’ve broken his heart into even tinier pieces, at least then he wouldn’t be haunted by the what ifs.
As Sunday cried, he couldn’t help but reminisce on the past...
The first time Sunday had met Gallagher was long before any of the events of the Charmony Festival began to unfold.
The two hadn’t started off on the best foot, in fact Sunday did not like the man at all during their first encounter. Sunday had been rushing, called by members of the Family to tend to a very urgent and very sensitive situation. Gallagher hadn’t been looking where he was going and ran right into the Oak Family Head.
Most would’ve apologized in a rush, some might’ve even been on their knees begging for forgiveness—but Gallagher hadn’t been phased in the slightest.
“Oops, sorry.” He had spoken so nonchalantly. As if he hadn’t just spilled his drink all over the Head of the Oak Family. As if Sunday’s pristine white suit was not dirty thanks to him. “Ha, I suppose that’s one way to add color to someone’s outfit.”
Gallagher was so calm it had annoyed Sunday, who was stressed beyond belief. Not only was he in a rush, but now he was covered in some unknown drink. Luckily it had mostly landed on his jacket and so all he needed to do was remove it and he’d look good as new, but Sunday detested having his lower wings so exposed. But as the Oak Family Head, it did not matter what he wanted.
“I’ll make it up to you.” Gallagher promised. “How about next time we meet, I treat you to a drink?”
“You already have, so that won’t be necessary.” Sunday’s eye twitched, all of his strength put towards maintaining his pleasant smile. “Good day.”
And with that Sunday was gone and he had assumed that would be the last he’d see of the bloodhound.
Oh how wrong he was.
They meet again only a few days later. Sunday was honestly surprised that Gallagher was talking to him because of what Sunday had said before, but Gallagher had responded that he was a man of his word. Sunday had apologized for his behavior, but Gallagher had simply waved it off, claiming it was water under the bridge. He had made Sunday a drink that somehow managed to both match him perfectly and catered to his tastes at the same time. He wasn’t sure how Gallagher knew what he liked, perhaps he was simply good at guessing from his many years of experience as a bartender.
To top off the drink, Gallagher had used a feather as decoration, which unfortunately led to him talking about Sunday’s wings. He had touched them, remarking how soft they were before teasing Sunday for his flushed face. Sunday had hid behind his wings, but it only made the man chuckle and tell him he looked cute like that.
Sunday had stormed off after that, his face embarrassingly warm for much too long afterwards. He avoided Gallagher like the plague after that, but he always managed to run into the bloodhound. Sunday hated it at first, but over time, he began to enjoy his time with Gallagher. On a planet full of masks and fakes, Gallagher was a breath of fresh air. As days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, the two grew closer and closer.
Sunday wasn’t sure when he began to develop feelings, but he remembers the day he had realized them vividly. He was in denial despite the signs, suppressing any feelings for the man that weren’t platonic. He had more important things to focus on. He was the Head of the Oak Family, plus the Charmony Festival was fast approaching. That was the only reason he had convinced himself, refusing to humor the thought that it was because he didn’t deserve to be happy, not when his fate was destined to be alone for the sake of the people’s sweet dream.
Gallagher must’ve sensed his reservations, for he never made any moves beyond light teasing or flirting. He was more than aware that if he said anything outright that Sunday would flee like a startled bird and never return. Sunday was more than aware of what Gallagher thought, but he did what he always did and pretended not to see it.
Yet despite Gallagher’s best efforts, the more that Sunday fell, the more he distanced himself from Gallagher.
A move Sunday had thought was for the best, especially once all the clues pointed towards Gallagher being the one that killed his sister. He blamed himself for letting his guard down, assuming Gallagher had made him fall for him as a ploy to get close and hurt the siblings.
His heart had hurt so terribly that day, but it could not compare to when Gallagher had confronted him. He had been killed by the man he loved, cursing himself for still loving him despite everything as his vision faded to black.
At least he would get to see his sister again…
Sunday was right, but not in the way that he thought.
Not only was he alive, but so was Robin. He’s glad it was a misunderstanding but still kept his distance from Gallgher, his heart too raw and he needed to be focused as it was almost time for the Charmony Festival.
Then Sunday had fallen, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize to everyone he had hurt. He wanted to see Gallagher and reconcile after everything, but he was gone. Gallagher was gone, and Sunday would never be able to see him again.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t finally say the words left unsaid, if not for closure, but so Gallagher could also rest in peace.
“I love you…” Sunday confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. Despite that, those three small words held so much weight that he could feel himself cracking underneath them. Tears flooded his vision, his chest physically hurting.
A hand rested on his shoulder, but it wasn’t Sleepie’s.
“What’s with the long face, Birdie?” A gruff yet familiar voice asked. “And here I thought you’d be happy to finally be free from this old dog constantly chewing on your wings.”
Sunday thought he was hearing things, staring forward in shock as Gallagher stood before him. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t breath—scared that if he did, it would be revealed to be a hallucination created by his grief stricken mind.
“It's me.” Gallagher reassured him, hand gently taking hold of Sunday’s and guiding it to his chest. He placed Sunday’s hand over his heart, allowing him to listen to its beat. “Seems your feelings for me are so strong it brought me back to life. Lucky for you, I’m a history fictionologist or else it wouldn’t have worked.”
Sunday and Sleepie practically tackled him into a hug, nearly knocking Gallagher over.
“Don’t ever leave like that again!” Sunday yelled, attempting to sound stern but it was hard with sobs breaking up his words.
“I would’ve stayed if I could, birdie.” Gallagher ruffled the feathers of Sunday’s wings, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “Speaking of, you’re stuck with me now. History Fictionologists exist until their purpose is completed, and thanks to you my purpose is now to stay with you for the rest of your life.”
“I love you.” Sunday confessed properly this time, his hands gripping tight onto Gallagher, as if he’d disappear again if he let go.
“I love you too, birdie.”
Sunday pulled Gallgher down by his tie, clumsily pressing his lips against his. Gallgher returned the kiss just as eagerly, pulling Sunday against his chest. The kiss was brief, but full of all the feelings the two had held back for so long.
Sunday was so glad Gallagher was back, Sleepie too based on how she pounced on him, but there wasn’t a way for this story to have a happy ending—not on Penacony at least.
“There’s nowhere for me on Penacony, not anymore…” Sunday admitted, saddened by the loss of his home. “I’m now a wanted criminal here.”
“I might know somewhere we could go.” Gallagher’s eyes looked up towards the stars. “How do you feel about trains?”
Sunday grimaced, his body still aching from the last time he had seen the Astral Express. But it meant not only freedom, but a new life with his beloved.
“...They’re nice.”
Gallagher called the members of the Astral Express, who were all overjoyed to hear that he was alive. Despite some reservations, the crew let the two join. Gallagher was happy to see the train Misha was always talking about, marveling at the impressive sight. Meanwhile Sunday was glad to be able to spread his wings and learn to finally live for himself instead of others.
The train warped away from Penacony towards its next destination. Sunday was sad to see the planet go, but maybe one day he would be able to return. If not, he’d ask the express for help to at least be able to see his sister again. As he was now, Sunday wasn’t ready to see her again, not after everything he had done. But he knew she would wait patiently for him until the day he was ready. For now, he focused on the present. Sunday held Gallagher’s hand as they both stared out the window, watching as endless stars rushed past them.
The two were excited for their new life together, wherever it may take them.