[Sunday figures it's been nearly a year since he's left Penacony and said his goodbyes to the life he used to know. Travelling the stars with the Astral Express now has been... interesting. Cathartic, in several different ways. While he hasn't travelled to other planets as much as the others have, Sunday has come to enjoy the different planets and cultures that they've come across. There is something new to learn in each galaxy and planet that they see. Something new to discover about the stars they see and about ... himself.
While Sunday wouldn't say he's found his perfect paradise just yet, he has come to terms with quite a lot of things. Easing up on the way he has to control every little bit around him. Realizing that the surrounding worlds are more than capable of taking care of themselves, despite the little bumps and mistakes along the way. He has done a lot of reflecting. And searching...
There are still points of his life that he hasn't forgiven himself for. The darker things. The lost things. The people he used to see...
Sometimes he finds his thoughts wandering to the man that he used to quietly speak to in the lonely corners of Penacony's bars. Wonders what happened to him after he mysteriously vanished and was presumed dead after everything was revealed. Sunday sometimes dreams of his face and wonders if he still has the details right. The jawline, the scruffy hair, the messy unshaven look.
He's sitting in the Party Car of the Astral Express now in a quiet spot in the corner with a good book. It's late and he can't seem to sleep. The train has been making circles around Amphoreus again, probably in hopes of catching word from Dan Heng and the trailblazer. He's worried, of course... And yet, his thoughts are starting to drift again.
People comes and go from the Astral Express all the time. So he barely takes notice When the car doors open and close again.]
[ Gallagher knows he is breaking the rules in more ways than one.
His existence was meant for only one story, and since that has since reached its conclusion, he no longer had any reason to exist— and yet, here he is anyway. Perhaps he doesn't quite look the same, because many parts of him were borrowed (stolen) from others who belonged to Penacony's tale, but the sunset in his eyes is still there. He has the same scruffy hair, the defined jawline... The messy look, the kind that makes it obvious that his whole person is stitched together.
At the very least, he exists. That's more than enough for now.
The Astral Express is quiet, but he supposes the crew might be tucked away in bed. Maybe his arrival can be a surprise for them, considering the way he said goodbye before they left for the stars. He makes his way over to the Party Car, not quite sure where exactly he is headed, but that doesn't matter once he sees the only other occupant in the room. This is where he's meant to be.
Quietly, he approaches where Sunday is settled, walking up to him from behind. ]
... Hey, birdie. Shouldn't you be in bed?
[ Funny, considering Sunday has been asleep for so long, but still. Leave it to him to act like no time has passed between them at all. ]
[At first, Sunday thinks he might be hearing things. The deep sound of Gallagher's voice... That can't be something he's actually hearing right now. He lifts is head up, wings twitching curiously at the greeting.
He's had dreams of Gallagher in the past. Quiet, lonely dreams of what was left unsaid between them. He's dreamed about what he might say if he could speak to Gallagher one last time. But ... Is he dreaming now?
Sunday turns around slightly, expecting to see nothing but shadows in the party car. But ... Seeing the taller man there has Sunday staring ...
... Is he dreaming? Maybe he should try to get some better sleep? This isn't-]
[ The disbelief on Sunday's face is not that surprising. After all, even Gallagher himself knows what his presence here means. He's breaking a lot of rules, some of which he's set for his own good, but simply seeing the other man again makes it tall worth it. Who would punish him for such a selfish wish, anyway? Fate, perhaps, or maybe even himself.
He smiles at the other, offering a shrug. ]
If it's easier for you to believe that, then sure, I'm not here.
[ He reaches for Sunday, anyway, his hand stretched to brush his fingers along the man's cheek. ]
[Sunday's thoughts are whirling. His eyes are wide and the moment that Gallagher's fingers brush so lightly across his cheek, Sunday flinches back. He's afraid. He's afraid that the moment that Gallagher touches him that he'll wake up and realize this is all nothing but his mind playing tricks on him again.]
Do not touch me.
[There's an old coldness in Sunday's voice. He has an unseen urge to pull back and become cold and calculated like he used to be. To protect himself or his secrets. Or his desires.]
I don't play with dreams, any longer. Gallagher is supposed to be dead. His story was over the moment that mine ended in Penacony. So, how are you here now...?
[He needs some sort of proof. Something that shows or says that this isn't a dream.]
[ Sunday's reaction doesn't surprise him. If anything, what surprises him more is how he feels about it. There's an ache in his heart that doesn't seem right, if only because he'd never expected to be regarded so coldly by the other man again. Aren't they past this stage already? Then again, he supposes this is a lot like starting over.
He offers him a small smile. ]
Would you believe it's because of selfishness?
[ He doesn't have a better excuse than that.
It's true that Gallagher's story is over, but now that he's found his way back here, he doesn't know what he wants to happen. Sunday isn't the only one trying to learn how to move past his old script. ]
[Likewise, there's a deep ache in Sunday's chest. He spent a whole year wondering what truly happened to Gallagher. Wondering if he was truly dead or merely hiding away somewhere. Busy being enigmatic. Or busy being dead. They had kept promises to each other, Gallagher even said that he would try to find Sunday if their paths ever took them to the stars. And it's that promise that left Sunday reeling all these long, lonely months.
How do you want me to prove it to you?
The question lingers and only makes Sunday's fear and desire mingle in his heart. He closes his book and gets up from his seat, still careful not to get too close to the man he dreams of. Then he softly replies,]
... Make me a drink. Like you used to.
[They're in the party car and there are plenty of tools and supplies for it. Perhaps the request is entirely silly. But Gallagher had been a drinksmith and had made Sunday special drinks occasionally. If the man is truly his Gallagher, then certainly he would be able to make a drink that he used to make Sunday on those quiet evenings between the two of them.]
[ Isn't that why he's here? Because of a simple promise, a selfish wish. Not that Gallagher can fault Sunday for distrusting him, considering how long it took for him to even try to keep his promise. Thankfully, it seems he's been granted one last chance to make things right. He doesn't intend on messing this one up.
He nods once. ]
Sure. I can do that.
[ A drink is easy enough to make. Despite having lost the parts of him that made up the drinksmith in Gallagher, he was interested enough in the skillset because of how mixing drinks can be likened to what he did to himself. He makes his way to stand behind the bar counter, peering at the available supplies.
As he gathers his chosen ingredients, he tries to spark a bit of small talk. ]
So this is what you've chosen to do? Chasing after the stars?
[ The Astral Express wasn't the first choice Gallagher had in mind for Sunday, but then again... perhaps it's simply meant to be. He's always terribly fond of those who knew how to move forward, regardless of what they have to leave behind. ]
[Sunday goes to follow him, each one of his steps careful and timed. Almost like he's worried about getting a step too close to Gallagher. When he slides into the seat at the counter across from Gallagher... It's a painful reminder of those old memories. He watches the man quietly and wonders just how much of Gallagher is still the Gallagher he knows ... And misses.]
It's ... temporary. At least for now.
[He realizes very quickly just how much he has to tell Gallagher and that only makes his chest ache again.]
I'm looking for the meaning to my own journey. What lies before me now that Penacony is in its own hands is something that I have to experience and find on my own. I thought that by joining with the express... I might find what I am looking for.
[He is still somewhat lost and trying to find himself. Although Sunday's expression is much softer, quiet and sombre than it used to be. Like he's come to enjoy the quiet travelling. Even when the travelling isn't so quiet thanks to the other rowdy trailblazers.]
[ Sunday isn't the only one experiencing the nostalgic ache. It has been so long since the two of them were able to enjoy each other's company like this, when it was just the two of them without any worries at all. Gallagher wonders if Sunday had been doing well since his absence, because it wasn't like he could've kept up with him even if he wanted to.
But that's neither here nor there. He's here now, and all he can really do is make up for the time lost. ]
They're good people. Mikhail trusted them, so I have no doubt you'll find what you're looking for if you stick with them. [ The gentle clinks of glass and other tools are the only ambient noise they both have while Gallagher works away at the drink. ] Are you worried?
[ After all, this is likely the first time Sunday has travelled so far away from home. ]
[The gentle clinking of glass is oddly comforting. He didn't know how much he would miss the simple sound of Gallagher working.]
I ... I do not have the right to be worried, even though I often am.
[Of course he's worried about Penacony. He didn't spend his entire life surrounded by the idea of leading Penacony and keeping its peace, for nothing. It's hard to be so far away from home, his sister, everything that he worked so hard for. But he does not have the right to own those feelings anymore. Not until he's atoned for the sins he committed.]
Perhaps a part of me knew that you would have said that about the Nameless. That is why... I've let myself trust them as well.
[He glances up at Gallagher. His expression his sad, a little lost... but soft.]
[ What meets Sunday's lost gaze is a soft smile. It's rare to see one as sincere as this on Gallagher's face, but there it is. Sunday has always been someone who easily draws it out of him, even if the Halovian isn't aware of it. ]
Even if you don't think you have the right, you're still allowed to think about the land of dreams. It's your home, after all.
[ He finishes the drink soon enough. The colours are a nice blend of blue, gold, and white — Sunday's colours. Just like the skies once dawn arrives. It's a nice mix of vodka, two types of liqueur, and a dollop of cream, which makes for a strong drink, but the sweetness might balance it out.
[The moment is a moment of quiet reflection. He looks at the glass and feels a small comfort in knowing that Gallagher made this drink for him. He looks up and sees that expression, only to feel the same old ache. The one he feels when he thinks of Gallagher, often.
He reaches out for the glass. Although, his fingers gently stop on top of Gallagher's hand before the other man can pull away.]
Thank you, Gallagher.
[... For more than just the drink? He takes it and takes a small, easy sip. It's cool and delicious.]
[ Sunday's touch lingers, and Gallagher tries not to look too disappointed when it finally goes away. He wonders just how easy it would be to reach out and hold the other man's hand in his. When things were much simpler between them, he wouldn't be hesitating as he is now, but it's fine. An old hound knows how to be patient.
His head tilts to the side, a curious gesture. ]
Did you think I wasn't going to?
[ Not that he would blame Sunday if he did believe that, considering how long it took him to find the other. Still— ]
[Sunday looks down at this drink and watches the ice clink as it beings to melt.]
If I'm being perfectly honest... no. I didn't think you would. There was a time I let go of such hopes. When I convinced myself that things like this weren't meant for me. Another quiet dream, shelved and gathering dust. One more thing I told myself I didn't deserve.
[There have been many things that Sunday has wished and wanted for in his life. And very few of those things have been in his grasp. He is not sure what he is deserving of, least of all the idea of Gallagher actually keeping that old promise.
[ Gallagher gets an answer that breaks his heart piece by piece. Perhaps it's because he can relate to what Sunday is saying, because someone like him, a lie that shouldn't even exist, doesn't deserve to want. To be selfish. And yet here he is, standing before the only person he wanted to see.
He gives Sunday an easy, but tired smile. ]
You deserve to have this, [ a beat ] because I want you to.
[ He moves from where he stands behind the counter, stopping right by Sunday's side. ]
And I don't know what I'll do now, but maybe we can figure that out together.
[ If you'll allow it, goes unsaid. Even someone like him can be a coward. ]
[Sunday feels that painful ache in the centre of his chest. He doesn't know where his life will lead him now. And it's difficult finding what he's supposed to do or where he's supposed to go. But that is exactly why he's with the Astral Express, at all.
When Gallagher comes near Sunday finds his body tightening. Because he wants...
His hand reaches out and grips Gallagher's wrist, almost like he's demanding that the man never leave his side again.]
Then... stay by my side.
[If they're allowed to want things. If they deserve to have things.]
[ Whether or not they're allowed to have such things doesn't matter at the end of the day, because they deserve to be selfish after all they've gone through. But, and he's sure this goes for Sunday too, it all depends on whether or not they're willing to reach out and take it.
In Gallagher's case, his wishes are simple. He wants to stay by Sunday's side, so he does. He reaches out to pull the Halovian closer to him, strong arms winding around that waist. ]
Don't mind if I do.
[ Perhaps this will come back to haunt him later on, but he couldn't care less right now. ]
[The breath leaves Sunday the instant Gallagher's arms wrap around him. Strong, warm, encompassing. Real. More real than anything he's felt in a very long time.
Perhaps this will slip out of his fingers one day. Gallagher will become nothing but a thought-up memory again. Yet, for now ... He can't help but to drop his forehead to Gallagher's shoulder and to slowly allow himself to be close to this man's enigmatic heartbeat.]
What I want...
[It's still hard for Sunday to say those things with the depths of his heart. Perhaps that makes him soft. But he looks up carefully at Gallagher, and the look on Sunday's face might say more than ever.]
I want you to not say another word until you kiss me.
[ Once Sunday rests his head against the Hound's shoulder, he might hear the steady rhythm of Gallagher's heart. This is nothing short of a miracle considering what he used to be, but he's more real than he's ever been. His fingers card through soft hair, a quiet reassurance that says he's here to stay. For as long as Sunday wants him to.
It takes everything in him to resist saying a word when Sunday finally gives voice to his desires. Instead, Gallagher simply smiles at him.
A beat passes, and then he leans in close. Their foreheads touch first as he brings one hand up to frame the side of Sunday's face. The look in his eyes should say it all— Sunday is the most precious thing in the universe to him. Beautiful. Ethereal.
He slots their lips together, sealing his promise with a kiss. It starts gentle, uncertain, but then he gradually becomes needier (greedier). The kiss is full of all the yearning and desperation that he couldn't reveal back when things were more fragile between them. Now, things are different. He won't hold back anymore. ]
[Sunday shivers. His heartbeat feels too fast in his chest. For the first time in a very long time, he feels like his heartbeat is all his own. It scares him... But Gallagher's steady hold on his body and his face sends a stronger thrill of relief through him that he cannot deny. So, he shivers, pressing closer to Gallagher as their lips come together. Gentle and uncertain...
He grips the front of Gallagher's shirt hard when it grows deeper, needier. A strangled noise whimpers out of his lips before he throws his arms around the man, letting him shift upwards to kiss him more. He holds onto Gallagher like he might be worried he'll slip away again.
He better not slip away again. He'll be very angry...]
[ Luckily for Sunday, Gallagher has no plans on disappearing again. (Even if the idea of being raptured by the other man is very, very tempting.)
The kiss they share between them tastes sweet, and he wants more of it, taking advantage of when Sunday's lips part slightly to let the noise out so he can lick into his mouth. He doesn't try to push him too much, because he'd rather have Sunday stay in his arms than be scared away.
He lingers near him for a few seconds more before breaking away, but he rests his forehead against the other's, unable to bear the thought of separating again. ]
... Wasn't so bad, right? Asking for what you want.
[The deep and heated kiss is enough for his temper, right now. He shivers against the other man as they kiss deeper, enjoying every puff of affection that blooms in his chest for it. When they part, Sunday's breathing is slow and his eyes are half lidded, cheeks blushing.
He still tries to resist the urge to admit anything but with Gallagher... Now that he is here and whole. It's easier to admit. He's getting better at this, even if it is slowly. Perhaps it'll be even easier now that Gallagher's here to remind him.]
It was significantly harder than it looks. [Was that Sunday? Making a little joke?? He huffs.] I ... hope you know that I'll be asking the others if you'll be allowed to stay on the Express for a time.
[... Once again. Sunday trying to get used to saying what he wants. Not just ordering it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a reunion;;
While Sunday wouldn't say he's found his perfect paradise just yet, he has come to terms with quite a lot of things. Easing up on the way he has to control every little bit around him. Realizing that the surrounding worlds are more than capable of taking care of themselves, despite the little bumps and mistakes along the way. He has done a lot of reflecting. And searching...
There are still points of his life that he hasn't forgiven himself for. The darker things. The lost things. The people he used to see...
Sometimes he finds his thoughts wandering to the man that he used to quietly speak to in the lonely corners of Penacony's bars. Wonders what happened to him after he mysteriously vanished and was presumed dead after everything was revealed. Sunday sometimes dreams of his face and wonders if he still has the details right. The jawline, the scruffy hair, the messy unshaven look.
He's sitting in the Party Car of the Astral Express now in a quiet spot in the corner with a good book. It's late and he can't seem to sleep. The train has been making circles around Amphoreus again, probably in hopes of catching word from Dan Heng and the trailblazer. He's worried, of course... And yet, his thoughts are starting to drift again.
People comes and go from the Astral Express all the time. So he barely takes notice When the car doors open and close again.]
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His existence was meant for only one story, and since that has since reached its conclusion, he no longer had any reason to exist— and yet, here he is anyway. Perhaps he doesn't quite look the same, because many parts of him were borrowed (stolen) from others who belonged to Penacony's tale, but the sunset in his eyes is still there. He has the same scruffy hair, the defined jawline... The messy look, the kind that makes it obvious that his whole person is stitched together.
At the very least, he exists. That's more than enough for now.
The Astral Express is quiet, but he supposes the crew might be tucked away in bed. Maybe his arrival can be a surprise for them, considering the way he said goodbye before they left for the stars. He makes his way over to the Party Car, not quite sure where exactly he is headed, but that doesn't matter once he sees the only other occupant in the room. This is where he's meant to be.
Quietly, he approaches where Sunday is settled, walking up to him from behind. ]
... Hey, birdie. Shouldn't you be in bed?
[ Funny, considering Sunday has been asleep for so long, but still. Leave it to him to act like no time has passed between them at all. ]
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He's had dreams of Gallagher in the past. Quiet, lonely dreams of what was left unsaid between them. He's dreamed about what he might say if he could speak to Gallagher one last time. But ... Is he dreaming now?
Sunday turns around slightly, expecting to see nothing but shadows in the party car. But ... Seeing the taller man there has Sunday staring ...
... Is he dreaming? Maybe he should try to get some better sleep? This isn't-]
...? You...? You're not here.
[Somehow, he's speechless. Opp.]
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He smiles at the other, offering a shrug. ]
If it's easier for you to believe that, then sure, I'm not here.
[ He reaches for Sunday, anyway, his hand stretched to brush his fingers along the man's cheek. ]
At least it'll be a pleasant dream?
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Do not touch me.
[There's an old coldness in Sunday's voice. He has an unseen urge to pull back and become cold and calculated like he used to be. To protect himself or his secrets. Or his desires.]
I don't play with dreams, any longer. Gallagher is supposed to be dead. His story was over the moment that mine ended in Penacony. So, how are you here now...?
[He needs some sort of proof. Something that shows or says that this isn't a dream.]
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He offers him a small smile. ]
Would you believe it's because of selfishness?
[ He doesn't have a better excuse than that.
It's true that Gallagher's story is over, but now that he's found his way back here, he doesn't know what he wants to happen. Sunday isn't the only one trying to learn how to move past his old script. ]
How do you want me to prove it to you?
[ That he's real. ]
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How do you want me to prove it to you?
The question lingers and only makes Sunday's fear and desire mingle in his heart. He closes his book and gets up from his seat, still careful not to get too close to the man he dreams of. Then he softly replies,]
... Make me a drink. Like you used to.
[They're in the party car and there are plenty of tools and supplies for it. Perhaps the request is entirely silly. But Gallagher had been a drinksmith and had made Sunday special drinks occasionally. If the man is truly his Gallagher, then certainly he would be able to make a drink that he used to make Sunday on those quiet evenings between the two of them.]
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He nods once. ]
Sure. I can do that.
[ A drink is easy enough to make. Despite having lost the parts of him that made up the drinksmith in Gallagher, he was interested enough in the skillset because of how mixing drinks can be likened to what he did to himself. He makes his way to stand behind the bar counter, peering at the available supplies.
As he gathers his chosen ingredients, he tries to spark a bit of small talk. ]
So this is what you've chosen to do? Chasing after the stars?
[ The Astral Express wasn't the first choice Gallagher had in mind for Sunday, but then again... perhaps it's simply meant to be. He's always terribly fond of those who knew how to move forward, regardless of what they have to leave behind. ]
no subject
It's ... temporary. At least for now.
[He realizes very quickly just how much he has to tell Gallagher and that only makes his chest ache again.]
I'm looking for the meaning to my own journey. What lies before me now that Penacony is in its own hands is something that I have to experience and find on my own. I thought that by joining with the express... I might find what I am looking for.
[He is still somewhat lost and trying to find himself. Although Sunday's expression is much softer, quiet and sombre than it used to be. Like he's come to enjoy the quiet travelling. Even when the travelling isn't so quiet thanks to the other rowdy trailblazers.]
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But that's neither here nor there. He's here now, and all he can really do is make up for the time lost. ]
They're good people. Mikhail trusted them, so I have no doubt you'll find what you're looking for if you stick with them. [ The gentle clinks of glass and other tools are the only ambient noise they both have while Gallagher works away at the drink. ] Are you worried?
[ After all, this is likely the first time Sunday has travelled so far away from home. ]
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I ... I do not have the right to be worried, even though I often am.
[Of course he's worried about Penacony. He didn't spend his entire life surrounded by the idea of leading Penacony and keeping its peace, for nothing. It's hard to be so far away from home, his sister, everything that he worked so hard for. But he does not have the right to own those feelings anymore. Not until he's atoned for the sins he committed.]
Perhaps a part of me knew that you would have said that about the Nameless. That is why... I've let myself trust them as well.
[He glances up at Gallagher. His expression his sad, a little lost... but soft.]
no subject
Even if you don't think you have the right, you're still allowed to think about the land of dreams. It's your home, after all.
[ He finishes the drink soon enough. The colours are a nice blend of blue, gold, and white — Sunday's colours. Just like the skies once dawn arrives. It's a nice mix of vodka, two types of liqueur, and a dollop of cream, which makes for a strong drink, but the sweetness might balance it out.
(He figures Sunday needs it.)
He slides the glass over. ]
If it isn't to your liking, just let me know.
no subject
He reaches out for the glass. Although, his fingers gently stop on top of Gallagher's hand before the other man can pull away.]
Thank you, Gallagher.
[... For more than just the drink? He takes it and takes a small, easy sip. It's cool and delicious.]
So you did keep your promise to find me again.
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His head tilts to the side, a curious gesture. ]
Did you think I wasn't going to?
[ Not that he would blame Sunday if he did believe that, considering how long it took him to find the other. Still— ]
... I try to keep my promises, whenever I can.
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If I'm being perfectly honest... no. I didn't think you would. There was a time I let go of such hopes. When I convinced myself that things like this weren't meant for me. Another quiet dream, shelved and gathering dust. One more thing I told myself I didn't deserve.
[There have been many things that Sunday has wished and wanted for in his life. And very few of those things have been in his grasp. He is not sure what he is deserving of, least of all the idea of Gallagher actually keeping that old promise.
But here he is.]
And what will you do now?
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He gives Sunday an easy, but tired smile. ]
You deserve to have this, [ a beat ] because I want you to.
[ He moves from where he stands behind the counter, stopping right by Sunday's side. ]
And I don't know what I'll do now, but maybe we can figure that out together.
[ If you'll allow it, goes unsaid. Even someone like him can be a coward. ]
no subject
When Gallagher comes near Sunday finds his body tightening. Because he wants...
His hand reaches out and grips Gallagher's wrist, almost like he's demanding that the man never leave his side again.]
Then... stay by my side.
[If they're allowed to want things. If they deserve to have things.]
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In Gallagher's case, his wishes are simple. He wants to stay by Sunday's side, so he does. He reaches out to pull the Halovian closer to him, strong arms winding around that waist. ]
Don't mind if I do.
[ Perhaps this will come back to haunt him later on, but he couldn't care less right now. ]
Is that all you want?
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Perhaps this will slip out of his fingers one day. Gallagher will become nothing but a thought-up memory again. Yet, for now ... He can't help but to drop his forehead to Gallagher's shoulder and to slowly allow himself to be close to this man's enigmatic heartbeat.]
What I want...
[It's still hard for Sunday to say those things with the depths of his heart. Perhaps that makes him soft. But he looks up carefully at Gallagher, and the look on Sunday's face might say more than ever.]
I want you to not say another word until you kiss me.
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It takes everything in him to resist saying a word when Sunday finally gives voice to his desires. Instead, Gallagher simply smiles at him.
A beat passes, and then he leans in close. Their foreheads touch first as he brings one hand up to frame the side of Sunday's face. The look in his eyes should say it all— Sunday is the most precious thing in the universe to him. Beautiful. Ethereal.
He slots their lips together, sealing his promise with a kiss. It starts gentle, uncertain, but then he gradually becomes needier (greedier). The kiss is full of all the yearning and desperation that he couldn't reveal back when things were more fragile between them. Now, things are different. He won't hold back anymore. ]
no subject
He grips the front of Gallagher's shirt hard when it grows deeper, needier. A strangled noise whimpers out of his lips before he throws his arms around the man, letting him shift upwards to kiss him more. He holds onto Gallagher like he might be worried he'll slip away again.
He better not slip away again. He'll be very angry...]
no subject
The kiss they share between them tastes sweet, and he wants more of it, taking advantage of when Sunday's lips part slightly to let the noise out so he can lick into his mouth. He doesn't try to push him too much, because he'd rather have Sunday stay in his arms than be scared away.
He lingers near him for a few seconds more before breaking away, but he rests his forehead against the other's, unable to bear the thought of separating again. ]
... Wasn't so bad, right? Asking for what you want.
no subject
He still tries to resist the urge to admit anything but with Gallagher... Now that he is here and whole. It's easier to admit. He's getting better at this, even if it is slowly. Perhaps it'll be even easier now that Gallagher's here to remind him.]
It was significantly harder than it looks. [Was that Sunday? Making a little joke?? He huffs.] I ... hope you know that I'll be asking the others if you'll be allowed to stay on the Express for a time.
[... Once again. Sunday trying to get used to saying what he wants. Not just ordering it.]