The Astral Express hummed softly, its steady rhythm cutting through the silence of space. Outside, stars passed by like faint whispers, while inside, the world felt still. You sat on your bed, datapad abandoned in your lap, the soft glow of the window reflecting your restlessness despite the seemingly soothing stars passing by your window.

Then came the soft knock. Three familiar gentle taps.

Dan Heng stepped in without waiting for a response, the quiet shift in the air telling you it was him before you even saw his face. He crossed the room without a word, settling beside you on the bed. There was no need for greetings. His presence alone was enough. Dan Heng smiled ever so slightly, opened the book he carried, the familiar weight of it in his hands, and began to read. His voice was calm, low, a steady hum in the quiet room.

"Normally, I'd refuse to do bedtime stories since it's not my job to act like someone's babysitter," he murmured. "But for you, I don't seem to mind it." His gaze would flicker toward you. Subtle, almost like he was unaware he was looking, but you noticed. His eyes lingered a moment longer than usual, like he was memorizing the way you sat there, the way the light hit your face. Dan Heng cleared his throat and tried focusing back to the page he was on before speaking again.

"You know," he said, pausing his reading for a moment, "I never really understood the point of quiet moments," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. "But, I think I get it now. When it's like this, with you, it's different." His voice was steady, the words simple but heavy with a warmth that he'd reserved for you.