Chapter Text
The process of fragmentation hurts.
Dan Heng doesn't have many memories from before. Most of what he can recall is in pieces. He remembers the sound of rain beating against a thin roof and the cool metal of something (a handle?) in his palm. He remembers feeling jittery with that loose kind of adrenaline that comes from thrill rides or doing something you shouldn't. Most importantly, Dan Heng remembers the feeling of his hand intertwined with another. He can recall the touch of smooth, porcelain skin and can remember perfectly how well his own hand fit into the other's.
Dan Heng also remembers fire, a scream ripping from his own throat, and the deep, ugly feeling of pure fear.
His mind is unpleasant, to say the least. In the beginning, he used to have bouts of fracture; moments where flickers of past memories would invade whatever he was doing for seemingly no reason and send him into a state of paranoia. These bouts occurred frequently and to the point where just thinking about his past at all led Dan Heng into a downward spiral.
So, he learned to hide it. Even when he managed to secure a job at the Astral Express Floral Shop he made sure to keep his past a secret, brushing off his bubbly coworker March 7th whenever she asked about his home life and avoiding the keen golden eye of the shop's owner, Himeko. It wasn't hard to do; when things got rough, and the shadows of his unknown history rose up to choke him again, he just retreated into his room (the storage room of the Express, where all the seeds were kept) and no one batted an eye.
Now, after four years of working at the Express, Dan Heng has a better understanding of what to avoid in order to not expose the extent of his breakdowns to his coworkers. Fire and too much heat make him want to retch, but that's not a prevalent issue in a flower store. Conversely, the rain makes his head pound with migraines and anxiety, but a simple joke from Stelle saying "well duh, he's a cat, of course he hates water" is enough for them not to question anything.
It's easy to hide, here. They treat him like family regardless of his seemingly weird phobias. Maybe he'll tell them someday, but that would require talking about the painful flickers he remembers from his dreams and panic attacks, and Dan Heng isn't ready to reopen those wounds.
He'll take what he can get, for now.
"Hey, if you were bald and washing your face, how far up would you go??"
"Please just fucking put your Uno card down, March."
March 7th scoffs and places a blue card on the counter, sticking her tongue out at Stelle. Her bright pink hair stands out like a highlighter amongst the neutral earth tones of the flower shop. Dan Heng watches as Stelle stares at March's move and then narrows her yellow eyes in irritation.
"You can't put a 2+ on a 2."
"Uh, said nobody ever," March insists, firmly keeping her hand down on her card, "they're both twos! You can stack numbers in Uno, and these are numbers!"
"That's like, sacrilegious." Stelle puts her own hands on the edge of March's card, attempting to pull it away from her. "First, you ask me about bald peoples' washing habits for an hour, and then you violate the rules of Uno. I veto your turn."
"Well, I veto your veto!" March returns viciously, pulling back on the card. "I won't stand for your injustice, nor will I stand for your disrespect! My bald head washing question is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much!"
Dan Heng watches as the middle of the card begins to tear. He considers saying something, but then decides he doesn't get paid enough to bother. He returns to sweeping the mahogany floors and brushing all the dead petals off the ground. Soon enough, he hears the sound of paper ripping, and then March shrieking. Unfortunately for Dan Heng, her screams of fury are soon redirected at him.
"Stelle ripped my Uno card despite my fair play! And she hates bald people! Dan Heng, tell her I'm right!"
"This is why we get zero customers," Dan Heng deadpans, dumping the rest of the dirt and petals he'd collected into the trash. "I'll turn you into a bald person. Please stop yelling."
March gasps dramatically, clutching her chest and sinking down the stool in front of the desk. Stelle claps a hand over her mouth in exaggerated shock.
"He just threatened to de-wig you," she informs March as she continues falling off her chair in slow motion. "You should run."
"This is terrible. There is no March 7th justice in this world."
At that moment, Welt opens the door from the staff room with a cup of tea in his hand. He blinks at the two girls around the front desk, the sea of Uno cards around them, and Dan Heng's I'm-Tired-Of-Your-Shit face.
"...Everything okay out here?" He asks. March has slumped far enough to hit the floor. Her head clunks against the desk with a thump and Welt winces at the sound. Stelle, ignoring March's ragdoll body, shrugs.
"There's almost nobody here today. March and I got so bored we started playing Uno," she explains. "We genuinely have nothing else to do. Well, except take out the garbage, but none of you ever let me do it."
"That's because you like to dig through it," Dan Heng reminds, "I never forgot the last time you did it."
March shudders at the memory. "You were fully submerged..."
Stelle huffs and sticks her tongue out, a perfect replica of March's expression earlier. They mimic each others' actions a lot; though Stelle is a relatively new recruit, she was able to quickly compliment March's energy and adopted most of her mannerisms not long after joining. Dan Heng was worried at first that Stelle would just be March 2.0, but she's got a decent amount of responsibility. Unless it has to do with taking out the garbage.
"Why don't you head on over to our new neighbors, then? Do some door-to-door advertising. Networking is essential to growing a business," Welt suggests. "It'll get you moving, anyway."
"New neighbors?" March perks up. "Since when??"
"Ah, you didn't see the trucks?" Welt questions. They were hard to miss. Last week, Dan Heng had seen a flurry of UPS trucks going to and from their location every time he looked out the window. Most of the boxes were properly sealed, though he could occasionally see a stool leg hanging out of the top or other miscellaneous objects. He remembers seeing multiple canvases as well, all of various ink paintings. Maybe their neighbors were an art gallery?
"No. I was busy being a good employee without getting distracted," March rolls her eyes pointedly at Stelle, despite being the only employee sprawled out on the floor at the moment. "Who are our neighbors, anyway?? Are they cool?"
"It's a tattoo parlor. My brother's one of the artists there," Stelle answers. "He's a loser, but the rest of the parlor is cool, I guess."
Welt raises a surprised eyebrow. "Your twin brother? Caelus, right? He works at the parlor?"
"Yep," says Stelle, popping the p, "he only works part-time there. I've never seen it myself, but they just relocated to here, so maybe I'll pay him a visit at some point."
March's eyes grow as wide as saucers. "Let's pay him a visit now!! I can't believe you didn't tell us about this, Stelle! You never talk about your family!" She jumps up from the floor out of excitement, but proceeds to immediately slam her head into the desk. Dan Heng catches the decorative flower pot that falls off of it while Welt concernedly scans over March's head. Instead of worrying about her growing bruise, March whips her head over to Welt, nonverbally asking for his permission.
"...I suppose I can stay and watch over the shop while you three are out. Don't be gone long. And don't make a bad impression- they're our neighbors, after all," the older man decides eventually. "Be smart."
"Sick! We're always smart, Mr. Yang. Don't worry about it! Now c'mon, let's go see Stelle's mysterious brother!!" March throws her arms around Stelle and Dan Heng's shoulders. He ducks away from her attack while Stelle accepts her fate.
"Bruh."
"Don't bruh me, Stelle, get a move on!"
And that's how Dan Heng finds himself walking maybe twenty feet out the door to the front porch of the Stellaron Parlor with Stelle and March in tow. Most of the blinds are down and the store seems a little dark, but Dan Heng wouldn't have expected a particularly bright-colored tattoo parlor either. While Stelle and March bicker over who gets to open the door, he steps up and knocks onto the gray wood twice.
A woman with magenta colored hair and strikingly alluring eyes opens the door. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail and a pair of sleek, black sunglasses lie on top of her head. Dan Heng can already hear Stelle drooling, knowing full well she's dragging her eyes across each inky black tattoo on the woman's arms and neck unashamedly. He should probably smack her out of it before it gets embarrassing.
"Oh, what a surprise. The Astral Express, was it? It's a pleasure to finally meet all of you," the woman smiles. There's a tricky charm to her smile that Dan Heng can't quite define.
"You already know who we are?" He questions.
"It's natural to scope out your local competition before starting a business," she responds coyly, and Dan Heng is about to raise an unimpressed eyebrow before she lightly pats him on the shoulder with another smile.
"Just kidding, of course. I'm good friends with Himeko. She likes to talk about you all. It's sweet, really."
March pouts from behind Dan Heng. "What? Himeko knew, too? Why does everyone except me get to know about our cool new neighbors??"
The woman gives a polite laugh. She steps aside, allowing the trio space to walk through the doorway. "Well, you get to know us now. You can call me Kafka. We don't have many artists just yet, but our consistent workers are Silver Wolf and Blade. If you'd like, you're welcome to step inside and meet them."
Silver Wolf and Blade? Interesting names, Dan Heng notes, but doesn't comment. Kafka appears to see right through him, however.
"Oh, those aren't their real names. But the code names are part of our...hm, environment. I think they add a little bit of character, don't you think?"
Dan Heng doesn't respond. He's more unsettled by how well Kafka can read him, considering he's put a great deal of effort into keeping a steady mask on, but senses no malicious energy from her. Actually, he can't sense much from her at all, which makes him feel even more on edge. Regardless, he follows her through the doorway and scans his surroundings.
As expected, most of the furniture inside is still in boxes. A few pieces of art are up; Dan Heng sees some calligraphy and multiple ink drawings of flowers adorning each wall. Fake vines crawl around the few decorative lamps and shelves holding ink containers in the corners of the store. So far, a pleasant place to be in.
March snickers as she steps inside. "Silver Wolf? Blade? Pfft. They sound like video game characters. Like, straight out of Genshin Impact."
"Hey, watch it. We're way better than Genshin," a new voice scoffs. "I mean, think of all the wolf-like characters. I think my fashion sense is way better than homeless Razor and shirtless Cyno." A teenage girl sprawled out on a still-wrapped couch comes into view, her silver hair messily put up into a ponytail. Pixelated tattoo art crawls up and down her arms, the most prominent being a pinkish-gem object on her right shoulder. Dan Heng recognizes it as a primogem from the game March just mentioned- he's never played the game before, but he's seen Stelle punch walls because of it.
March puts a hand to her chest. "No way! Leave my boy Razor alone! Who even are you, anyway??"
"I'm Silver Wolf, moron." Silver Wolf rolls her eyes and she looks extremely young to Dan Heng- and she acts like a proper teenager, too. He guesses she's maybe 17.
Kafka chuckles as she walks past them and towards the front desk. "Be kind to our Astral friends, dear Silver. They mean no harm."
"Sounds like a skill issue. 'Cause I mean harm," Silver Wolf scoffs, but quiets anyway as she aggressively taps buttons on her phone. March opens her mouth to counter, but Stelle flicks her on the forehead.
"Wh, Stelle-"
"Shh. Don't piss off the hot woman's friend. You'll ruin my chances."
"Hot woman...?? Are you thirsting over Kafka???"
Stelle puts her finger over March's lips. "Quiet. I'm appreciating her beauty."
"Dude."
Dan Heng sighs, hoping Kafka didn't catch any of that. Luckily for him, she seems occupied, staring at something on her phone screen from behind the front desk. She glances up with an apologetic look.
"I apologize. We'll have to reschedule our little tour another time- my boss is calling. Feel free to take a look around, though. Maybe we can work out some places to display flowers from your store, hm?"
She then puts her phone up to her ear and Dan Heng turns away, idly looking around. There's not much to look at- even if Kafka wasn't available, he's not sure what exactly she could give them a tour on. March has wandered over to Silver Wolf's spot on the couch, likely about to ask her questions about the washing habits of bald people, and Stelle not-so-subtly shoots glances at Kafka from the corner of the room.
There's a door slightly ajar in the back. The only thing Dan Heng can see past it is a box holding more paintings- one of which he recognizes from when he was watching the parlor's moving process earlier in the week. Hm. Without any real thought he walks towards the door, steps inside, and inspects the box full of art.
It appears to be a concept sketch of a spider lily tattoo, each brush stroke splaying out gracefully in different directions. It's almost perfectly identical to a real life spider lily. Dan Heng thinks the artist did a good job. Maybe Kafka did it, or maybe it was commissioned by a different artist.
He looks up to inspect the room he's in. It's nothing special, just an old office of sorts, with a beat up desk to his right and a few file cabinets to his left. The least mundane objects in the room are the boxes of paintings and the shelves, which hold various trinkets on them; Dan Heng can make out some video game character figurines, a violin bowstring, and some extra jars of ink. At the back wall is yet another door with a sign that says "storage" on it.
Curiously, Dan Heng steps forward to look at the figurines in closer detail, but the back door opens.
And the shadows rise up to close his throat.
The newcomer has navy blue hair with red undertones and strikingly crimson eyes, but the first thing Dan Heng picks up on is his scent.
He smells of smoke. Not the friendly campfire smoke born of golden embers and shared memories but of violent, suffocating smoke rising out of a burning window frame. His hands are rigid and covered in more tattoos than both Kafka and Silver Wolf combined, the lines of ink spreading across his ghostly pale skin in waves of black. The kaleidoscope of the world spins into terrible existence around Dan Heng as the mere presence of this individual makes bile rise into his mouth.
"You. It's...you."
His voice is rough, likely sanded by cigarettes, and it's full of such loathing that Dan Heng isn't sure what he did wrong but he's almost willing to apologize for it.
"I..." Dan Heng swallows. "I don't know what you mean."
"Of course." The man lets out a bitter, mirthless laugh, and it's something broken and heartless at the same time. "You always disappear when you're needed."
Dan Heng desperately searches through his memory, trying to figure out how this stranger seems to know him. He hasn't had any conflicts that weren't with angry customers, and they've never held such deep contempt for him. Which can only mean this man is a remnant from before, and Dan Heng can't handle anything from before. "I'm...sorry. I don't recall..."
"Hah...you don't recall. Even your mind runs away. I fucking knew you were...damn it all." He can't seem to piece full sentences together from the rage reverberating in his bones. Dan Heng can see his hands shaking with barely held restraint. "I despise you, you know. Years and years of radio silence before you show up here, of all places, happy in that quaint fucking flower shop. Isn't that something? I spent all this time wishing to rot away while you pranced around in flower fields!"
He steps forward, bloody crimson eyes slicing a hole through his heart, and if Dan Heng wasn't falling apart he'd notice this man truly fits the title of Blade.
"Look! How do you forget this?!" Blade steps closer and he's in touching distance now, but Dan Heng can't move from his spot. A dark hand roughly grabs the back of his head, and something stings just above the back of his neck, like an old wound getting reopened, and he's struggling and twisting and he definitely just knocked something over but he won't let him go-
"You're nothing but a cowardly fool, Yinÿ̸̞̙̲ừ̷̬̑̾̚ě̵̝̻͈̗̗͙͓-̶̱͎͒J̷̝͇̥̼̩͌̀̈́̓̈̆̈́̎ŭ̸̠̲̘͑̎̄̓̀͘n̸̮̻̞̙̱͙̜̺̾͋̄̓̆̒."
The word that falls from his mouth sounds like empty air, like the inner space of a black hole. It's completely and utterly foreign, like a different language, and yet it pierces something in his brain. It smells of rain, of smoke, of old wooden rafters and static electricity. The area is pungent with fear, and he can feel it crawling up his veins and into the sockets of his eyes despite his attempts to close them. The beeping of a heart monitor cuts through the air just as easily as the screams do. It echoes through the warehouse.
Warehouse? Where is he? Dan Heng looks down, but he can't see his hands, can't see anything. It's dark. There's nothing. He is nothing.
You were someone to me, a voice says, and it sounds familiar but the thread is lost before Dan Heng can follow.
And then the door slams open.
"Drop him, Bladie."
Dan Heng feels himself fall to the floor. Something juts into his palm. He blearily looks down to see the corner of the shelf on the floor with him and every object he'd previously seen scattered on the ground. Blade is in front of him, expression unreadable, and Dan Heng feels his breath catch in his throat before hands hook under his shoulders and lift him up.
"Easy, easy. You're okay, Dan Heng. Breathe," Stelle's voice murmurs into his ear. "It's November 3rd. You're in the Stellaron Tattoo Parlor. Uh, I'm here. March and Silver Wolf are just outside. Kafka's also here, and she looks really ho-uh, nice in that leather jacket. My brother's coming in an hour. He's got gray hair, just like me, and yellow eyes. Identical twin things, you know? Uh..."
Stelle continues rambling and it's completely unlike her- the endless tangents are more of March's thing - but it helps. Dan Heng focuses on her voice and lets the darkness fade, completely blocking out the silhouette in front of him.
"Better?" Stelle asks after a few minutes, and Dan Heng doesn't have the strength to do anything but nod. His head hurts.
"Glad to hear it. I'm sorry, Express friends, but I think it'll be best for you to leave," Kafka hums. "We can discuss what to do about the broken items later." When Dan Heng looks up at her, he is nowhere in sight. The back door is wide open now.
"We will. Uh, Dan Heng, you don't have to say now if you can't, but...what happened?" Stelle questions.
"I don't...remem...." Even your mind runs away. Dan Heng shakes his head. "...Not right now."
"It's okay. I'll talk to Bladie," Kafka says. "Go rest at home. Feel better, Dan Heng."
The minute long walk back to the flower shop is long and difficult. Dan Heng takes off his jacket, which is drenched in sweat, walks to the couch, and passes out.
He dreams of a gentle hand cupping his cheek before it lights ablaze.