"It works how I say it works," Daiju declared.
Juniper made a helpless sound somewhere between a sigh and a tiny defeated squeak, which only made Daiju smile wider.
Juniper let himself slide into the seat with a faint, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The heavy knot in his chest from the hospital hadn't vanished, but the pressure eased a little.
Daiju shot him a sideways glance as the engine hummed to life. "Demetrius said the word 'heavy mood' in his message so let me comfort you a bit."
Juniper stared out the window as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, the military complex shrinking behind them. The high steel walls and guarded gates disappeared into traffic, replaced by glass towers and skybridges glittering in the late morning sun.
It felt strange.
Not long ago, the air had been cool and damp, filled with the scent of antiseptic and salt. The heavy topics inside the medical bay.
Now Daiju had the windows slightly down, warm air rushing in, music playing low and cheerful.
The shift made Juniper's chest ache in a different way.
Daiju reached into the center console without looking and held something out. "Snack."
Juniper glanced over. "…what is it?"
"Spiced skybeast jerky," Daiju said matter-of-factly. "High protein, low effort. You get sad, you forget to eat. I've observed you."
Juniper turned the strip over in his fingers, inspecting the dark glaze and unfamiliar seasoning.
Juniper gave him a look — then took a tentative bite.
He blinked. "…Oh. That's actually really good."
Traffic thinned as they left the central district. The skyline opened up, layered highways curving between vertical gardens and suspended transit rails. Distant shuttlecraft lifted and descended in steady lines.
Juniper rested his forehead lightly against the window.
"It feels strange," he said after a while. "Leaving when something so serious is happening."
Daiju didn't answer immediately. He adjusted the music down a notch instead.
"The universe doesn't fall apart if you take a day to breathe," he said, voice softer than his usual playful tone. "Don't carry every burden yourself, It just gives you a backache and a bad mental state."
Juniper's shoulders eased, just a little.
They drove in comfortable quiet after that. Daiju occasionally pointed things out — a new holo-theater opening, a food district he wanted to drag Juniper to next time, a massive sculpture installation that looked like twisted metal waves frozen mid-crash.
Juniper listened, letting Daiju's voice fill the spaces where his thoughts threatened to spiral.
The spaceport was a gleaming expanse of glass and steel, layered with platforms where shuttles docked and departed in precise intervals. Screens overhead flickered with departure times and planetary weather patterns.
Juniper slowed as they stepped inside, eyes lifting.
Even after months in this world, places like this still made his breath catch.
People of every species moved through the terminal — scaled, furred, winged, mechanical — voices blending into a low, constant hum. Overhead, a transport cruiser detached from its moorings and drifted upward with a deep, resonant vibration Juniper could feel through the floor.
Daiju nudged his shoulder. "You're doing the wide-eyed tourist thing again."
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
Juniper didn't deny it.
Security was quick with Daiju's priority clearance. Within minutes, they were walking down a boarding tunnel toward a sleek mid-range passenger vessel bound for Elowen.
Inside, the cabin curved in smooth white panels with wide viewing windows along one side. Soft ambient lighting shifted in gentle gradients, designed to keep travelers relaxed during ascent.
Juniper chose the window seat without hesitation.
Daiju slid in beside him, close enough that their arms brushed. "I like this side of you," he murmured. "The 'everything is still amazing' side."
Juniper watched ground crews move like tiny figures below. "Back where I was before… we didn't have anything like this."
Daiju didn't ask what before meant. He just nodded slightly. "Then I guess I get to be your extremely handsome tour guide."
Juniper smiled, small but real. "You're very confident in that title."
"I earned it."
The cabin lights dimmed as the engines powered up. A low vibration spread through the structure, steady and strong. Juniper's fingers curled slightly against the armrest.
Without looking, Daiju let his hand rest over Juniper's.
Not tight. Not drawing attention. Just there.
Juniper glanced at him.
Daiju kept his gaze forward. "In case you decide to panic."
"I'm note panicked."
"Mhm."
The ship lifted smoothly, the city dropping away beneath them. Buildings shrank into glittering shapes, roadways into threads of light. Clouds swallowed the view for a moment — then they burst through into open sky.
Juniper inhaled sharply.
Above them, space unfolded in deep, endless blue fading to black. The curve of the planet stretched below, oceans reflecting sunlight like sheets of glass.
Juniper leaned closer to the window, ears twitching faintly.
Daiju wasn't looking outside.
He was watching Juniper.
The wonder on Juniper's face, the way his eyes tracked every movement of distant satellites and passing traffic lanes, the quiet awe he never tried to hide — it made something warm settle in Daiju's chest.
"Is it pretty?" Daiju said softly.
Juniper nodded, barely hearing him. "It's… beautiful."
The ship angled toward a bright point ahead, engines adjusting with a gentle shift in pressure.
"Elowen's coming up on the long-range feed," Daiju said, tapping the display between them.
A rotating planetary image appeared — streaked with silver and deep blue, rings of industrial zones glowing faintly along one hemisphere while the other shimmered with vast oceans and scattered green landmasses.
Juniper stared.
And Daiju, still pretending to be casual, didn't move his hand away.