Dan Heng’s favorite book he can’t read

White hair.

The memory was fading now. He often recalled white hair, it meant something to him, to his past he couldn’t quite remember.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just resting in the familiar. Maybe he could push at his memories again, prod at them with his metaphorical stick and see what popped out.

He opened his eyes.

It was such a lovely day, sun shining through the big bay window they rested in. Any time Dan Heng let his eyes drift from his book his eyes met one of two sights, both taking his breath away.

If he turned to his right, he was met with endless blue; grand, white clouds being cut through by their mighty vessel. Bird-like creatures flew alongside, most of them residing upon the ship while they were on planet, curious of the people aboard that threw them snacks and imitated their funny noises at them. The beauty of a planet with a blue sky, he loved this atmosphere. By far his favorite of them. Water vapor based clouds, safe to the physical touch, rain, natural and cold on this planet. All just outside this pane of thick, space-proof glass.

And to his left, a beautiful man, resting against his lap reading his own book. Long, white hair pulled up and out of his face, comfortable clothing well suited for their lounging afternoon. Dan Heng had braided his hair earlier and even without a secure tie, it still kept its shape. He had left a bit out of the braid, enough for him to run his fingers through subconsciously as he finished his book.

This was the white hair from his memory. The one he could never recall.

How had he known he had braided this hair himself? How did he know they had been here all afternoon? Together like always?

Always..?

Neither said a word. Something felt strange, like he should know where they were, what they were doing. Where they were going.

Who this was.

“Dan Feng. What are you reading now?”

Silence broken. That was his name. He was Dan Feng just as much as he was Dan Heng wasn’t he?

“I’m re-reading Winterfallen Dragon.”

The words came out of him without him speaking. As if this is what the Dan Feng had said. He figured he should split those two in half, what he said and what Dan Feng said. Because they didn’t seem to match up. All Dan Heng wanted to ask was Who are you?

“That book again? You do love your fiction.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you reading?”

“An independent study posted recently. This guy thinks he knows everything about swords because he researched one. I plan to read his thesis and refute back.”

“Oh by what? Stabbing him?”

This man was violent? That wasn’t in his memories. Not the immediate ones. Not the ones he could see, the ones he could access. As far as he remembered he just recalled white hair.

White hair and sad red eyes.

Red. That color pushed on his mind from behind, memories tucked away that longed to be released. Those ones he wasn’t ready to hear yet. Those ones would have to wait.

“You think you’re very funny. Tough talk for someone who skipped our last two sparring sessions.” The man in white was playful about it, he didn’t mean anything. Something stung about that though; the way he said it. Or maybe it was what he said.

“You need to switch weapons when we spar. You’re too good at a sword. I’d rather keep this body intact.”

They were silent for a moment, each reflecting on what he said. Dan Heng didn’t understand the problem. That was until the man spoke again.

“Dan Feng. If you are to reincarnate.. do you think we will find each other again?”

Dan Heng’s heart screamed. Comfort him, he’s afraid. Afraid of what might happen. He didn’t understand why he was feeling like this, what was the memory attached to such a yearning to comfort him.

“When I reincarnate I won’t remember you. It won’t be me anymore. The me you know will die with me if that happens.”

The man with those sad, red eyes sat up, lifting his body off of his. He looked at him, worried and hurt. Like a wounded dog.

Dan Heng wanted to comfort him. Say something please. Maybe just say ‘find me instead’.

“So since I won’t remember. Find me instead. Don’t let me forget who you are and what you mean to me.”

A blink. That’s all it took.

Dan Heng’s eyes opened into his room, same familiar location.

What had he been doing just now?

He looked down at his hands, book still grasped. It was closed. A very well loved novel, he remembered loving this a very long time ago. He hadn’t read it in many years.

His tail flicked uncomfortably as he went to open it. His body froze. Tears rushed from his eyes, filling him with a grief he couldn’t comprehend. He sobbed loudly, dropping the book to hide his face within his hands. He didn’t cry. He definitely didn’t sob. So much overwhelmed him, gripping him tightly.

A knock at the door.

“Dan Heng? Are you awake sleepyhead?”

Without waiting for a response the door handle twisted, the door opening inwards. He quickly rubbed the tears from his fur, hoping it wasn’t obvious how wet his face was. March stepped into the room, face turned down into her phone. She looked up and saw him there, smiling as she flopped on the thin blanketed mattress he laid on.

“I hope you don’t mind, it was getting really cold in my room.” If she had seen his tears or heard his light sniffles as he composed himself, she didn’t show it.

They sat that way for a minute, him trying to fix himself up and her silently playing on her phone. A stupid little app she had just downloaded. It’s dumb music and jaunty sound effects were the only sounds over the whirring of the machinery in the room.

She moved to lean against his lap, he stiffened at her physical touch. Something felt weird but so familiar about sitting like this. He slowly felt himself relax, heart slowly getting back to normal.

“Our rooms aren’t soundproof. I hope you’re doing ok. You don’t have to talk about it, I just wanna be here with you.”

“…Thank you March.”

He felt his chest release, pressure escaped. The tears had stopped.

“You’re my best friend Dan Heng.”

You’re mine too March.

He couldn’t say it, but hopefully she felt it. He looked back down at his hands, opening the book again. Nothing came to him except warmth and love. Books could capture their readers, this one certainly had.

He looked at the first page, taking it in as he got ready to read it. It was addressed to someone, someone he didn’t think he knew.

‘Dan Feng, I’ll find you, I love you.’

That was odd. He turned the page. The book began all over again for him.