Perhaps a clean slate is what Sunday needed. Despite his grief, the loss of his status and never being able to see his sister again, he’s found home. He’s made home. The astral express welcomed him with open arms and Sunday tries to be helpful, even if he’s still learning. Even if he struggles.

Once pious with the teachings of the Harmony, Sunday has fallen from grace in several ways but where there was coldness and devotion to the Family, now there is life. Alive is how he feels when he listens to the laughter in the carts, when March and Dan Heng argue over nothing. When he looks at you, curled up beside him laughing along like this is where he belongs. Sunday can’t help but want to bury himself in you.

The way your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the stars outside the express are less captivating than your smile. The way he experiences all sorts of new things with you, love, lust, affection, care. Sometimes he gets lost in thought when he looks at you, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes. “You’re beautiful when you smile like that.” Sunday breathes out, raw and honest. Everyone else could hear it and he doesn’t recognize it until they all look at him.

The flush on his cheeks matches your own and Sunday swallows audibly because even embarrassment is new to him. But the sight of you is enough to soothe it, enough to make him distracted and dizzy. Halovians pair for life and he hopes that you’ll accept it when he slides one of the feathers of his wings to you, a courting ritual. “Will you wear it?” He asks, hopeful.