#surface screen repair

[repairmyphonetodayoxford]

Microsoft Surface Water Damage Repair at Repair My Phone Today in Oxford

Introduction:

Water damage is a common issue faced by electronic devices, including Microsoft Surface tablets. Accidental spills, leaks, or even exposure to rain can lead to significant damage, rendering your device inoperable. If you find yourself in such a situation, Repair My Phone Today in Oxford is the go-to destination for professional and reliable Microsoft Surface water damage repair.

Expertise in Surface Water Damage Repair:

Repair My Phone Today boasts a team of highly skilled technicians who specialize in repairing a wide range of electronic devices, including Microsoft Surface tablets. With years of experience in the field, our technicians have the necessary expertise to diagnose and fix water damage-related issues efficiently.

Diagnosing Water Damage:

When you bring your water-damaged Microsoft Surface tablet to Repair My Phone Today, our technicians will conduct a thorough assessment to determine the extent of the damage. They will inspect the internal components, including the motherboard, display, and battery, to identify any signs of water ingress.

Water Damage Repair Process:

Once the extent of the water damage is determined, our technicians will proceed with the repair process. They will carefully disassemble the device and clean all the affected components using specialized tools and solutions. This ensures that any corrosion or residue caused by water exposure is removed, preventing further damage.

Repairing or Replacing Components:

Depending on the severity of the water damage, our technicians will either repair or replace the damaged components. They have a vast inventory of genuine Microsoft Surface parts, ensuring that your device is restored to its original functionality. From replacing the motherboard to fixing the display or battery, our technicians will handle the repair with utmost precision.

Water Damage Prevention:

In addition to providing water damage tablet repair services, Repair My Phone Today also offers valuable tips to prevent such incidents in the future. These include using protective cases, avoiding exposure to liquids, and being cautious while using the device near water sources.

Convenience and Customer Satisfaction:

At Repair My Phone Today, we understand the importance of your Microsoft Surface tablet in your daily life. That's why we strive to provide a convenient and hassle-free experience for our customers. Our technicians work diligently to ensure that your device is repaired as quickly as possible, without compromising on quality. We also offer a warranty on our repairs, giving you peace of mind.

Conclusion:

When it comes to Microsoft Surface water damage repair, Repair My Phone Today in Oxford is the trusted choice. With their expertise, professionalism, and dedication to customer satisfaction, you can be confident that your water-damaged device will be restored to its full functionality. Don't let water damage disrupt your productivity – visit Repair My Phone Today for reliable and efficient repairs.

📞 Contact: Repair My Phone Today

📍 Address: 99 St Aldates, Oxford OX1 1BT, UK

📧 Email: info@repairmyphone.today

☎️ Phone: 01865 655 261

💻 Website: https://www.repairmyphone.today

[aleenascorption]

[fix-spot-electronics]

https://fixspotelectronics.com/services/microsoft-surface-repair-abu-dhabi/

Abu Dhabi's Trusted Microsoft Surface Pro Repair Experts.|Fix spot.

Cracked Surface Pro Screen in Abu Dhabi? FixSpot Saves the Day! We specialize in repairing all Microsoft Surface Pro models, from screen replacements to battery fixes and water damage recovery. Our certified technicians use high-quality parts for fast, reliable repairs at affordable prices. Free diagnostics & upfront quotes! Get your Surface Pro back to peak performance - like new! Visit FixSpot Abu Dhabi or call for a no-obligation quote today. Contact us now: +971 58 883 8410‬

[elservicecentre]

Efficient Microsoft Surface Pro Repair Services in Singapore

Explore top-notch repair solutions for your Microsoft Surface Pro at Esmond Service Centre in Singapore. Our skilled technicians provide expert diagnosis and comprehensive repairs, addressing various issues from screen damage to software glitches. Trust us for reliable and swift solutions to restore your device's functionality and performance.

[sdscdd]

Surface Pro Repair Dubai

For Surface Pro repair services in Dubai, Scorpionfix is your trusted destination. Scorpionfix offers expert solutions for Microsoft Surface Pro users in need of efficient and reliable repairs. Whether you require a screen replacement, keyboard repair, or any other service for your Surface Pro, their skilled technicians are well-versed in handling Surface devices. With a commitment to quality and a reputation as a trusted Surface repair center in Dubai, Scorpionfix ensures your device is in capable hands. Their efficient services and prompt turnaround times make them the preferred choice for individuals seeking Surface Pro repairs in Dubai. Whether you're in the city or the surrounding areas, Scorpionfix offers convenient accessibility for all your Surface Pro repair needs.

[diygeardo]

Microsoft Surface GO 2 LCD Touch Screen Replacement

Before Starting, we need the right tools to proceed with the repair, which You can find in the description. The most crucial aspect of tablet repair is Proper heating to separate the screen from the body. For this, we use a heating pad designed for tablets and mobile phones. To remove the screen On Surface Go 2, heat the front side of the screen. Select the Tablet heating option and leave it…

[iphonerepairmelb]

Efficient Solutions for Urgent Repairs: Express Phone Repair and Microsoft Surface Screen Repair Made Easy

Our smartphones have become an integral part of our lives, and a damaged or malfunctioning device can disrupt our daily routines. Whether you need an express phone repair or Microsoft Surface screen repair, finding a reliable and efficient service provider is crucial. In this blog, we'll explore the benefits of opting for express phone repair services and highlight the expertise required for Microsoft Surface screen repair.

Express Phone Repair:

When your phone encounters issues such as a cracked screen, battery problems, or software glitches, opting for express phone repair can save you time and hassle. Reputable repair stores, like Fonecast, offer quick turnaround times, allowing you to have your device back in working order within hours. This service ensures minimal disruption to your daily activities and prevents the need for lengthy phone replacements.

Microsoft Surface Screen Repair:

Microsoft Surface devices are known for their sleek design and powerful performance. However, accidents happen, and screens can crack or become unresponsive. In such cases, it's crucial to choose a repair service provider with expertise in Microsoft Surface screen repair. Specialists like Fonecast have the necessary skills and knowledge to handle the unique intricacies of Surface devices, ensuring a professional repair that restores your device's functionality and appearance.

Expert Technicians:

Express phone repair and Microsoft Surface screen repair require skilled technicians with extensive knowledge of various device models and brands. These technicians are adept at diagnosing issues accurately and efficiently, using their expertise to provide effective solutions. They possess the necessary training and experience to handle intricate repairs, guaranteeing the highest quality of service.

Quality Parts and Warranty:

Reliable repair stores prioritize the use of genuine parts sourced from reputable suppliers. This ensures the longevity and performance of your repaired device. Moreover, reputable repair providers offer warranties on their services and replacement parts, giving you peace of mind and protection against any unforeseen issues.

Convenience and Customer Satisfaction:

Choosing a repair service that offers convenient options, such as online scheduling or mail-in repairs, makes the process more streamlined and hassle-free. Additionally, reputable repair stores prioritize customer satisfaction and aim to provide excellent service from start to finish. They offer transparent pricing, friendly customer support, and clear communication throughout the repair process.

Conclusion:

When faced with a damaged phone or Microsoft Surface device, swift action is essential. Opting for express phone repair services ensures minimal disruption to your routine, while relying on expert technicians specializing in Microsoft Surface screen repair guarantees professional results. With their expertise, use of quality parts, convenience, and commitment to customer satisfaction, reputable repair providers like Fonecast is your go-to options for efficient and reliable phone and Microsoft Surface repairs.

Source

[sanjanaopstech]

Microsoft Surface Pro Repair Services in Dubai, Sharjah - UAE

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 2

Part 1

Damian glared at the envelope. He and Father were in the process of analysing the letter for any signs of toxins, explosives or other traps. Obviously he wasn’t fool enough to open a missive from a questionable source without taking precautions. So far, all their scans had come up empty. Literally. The letter was defying all their attempts at chemical or spectroscopic testing, x-ray and magnetic resonance scans were inconclusive, it defied all properties of ordinary matter. It was frustrating. It was vexing. He was blaming magic.

For all intents and purposes, the letter looked like ordinary paper, with an ordinary wax seal, bearing the initials CW. The looping handwriting addressing it to Damian was precise and neat. Swiping the surface of the letter for chemical traces yielded no results. When Damian had tried to cut off a corner of the paper for analysis it had resisted all attempts, including a laser and a diamond headed cutting tool. Damian’s only satisfaction was that when Father had grunted and taken over the task from Damian, he had no more success than his son. As if Damian didn’t know how to perform the standard array of tests!

It certainly didn’t help that his siblings wouldn’t stop their incessant chattering!

“I’m just saying, ghosts wouldn’t be the weirdest thing we’ve encountered, Red. I’m not sure it would even make my personal Top 5.”

It seemed gossip among heroes travelled faster than the speed of light.

“Really, Nightwing? Ghosts? It’s far more likely to be a meta with something to hide. Or a few screws loose.” Damian could practically hear the eyeroll in Drake’s voice “And since when do ghosts act as glorified mailmen?”

“I don’t know Red, since when do aliens pretend to be Kansas farmboys? C’mon, we deal with magic users all the time!”

“And lets not forget people coming back from the dead” Red Hood interjected over the open comm line.

“Magic is just science we don’t understand yet. Any sufficiently analysed magic becomes indistinguishable from science!”

“B, a little help here?”

“Hn” Father straightened up from his position at the lab table “Oracle, any progress on clearing up the footage from Robin’s mask?”

Grayson threw up his hands with a frustrated huff while Drake smirked.

“The program is almost finished rendering. Whatever scrambler they used did a real number on the video quality. I’m surprised the audio is as clear as it is.” Oracle replied.

“Hn. And the isotope tracer on the money?”

“Sorry B, no hits on the local sensors. Wherever the guy went it’s either outside Gotham or shielded somehow.” she said, mildly frustrated.

“Maybe it’s ghost magiiiiic” Drake sing-songed. Grayson lightly cuffed the back of his head, to which the former Robin responded with a firm shove. Their interaction quickly devolved into a childish tussle.

Damian gave an annoyed huff. “Don’t you two imbeciles have anything better to do?”

“Aww, we’re just here to look out for our baby brother!” Nightwing teased.

“Yeah, we gotta make sure your ghost encounter didn’t leave any lasting psychological damage!” Red Robin added.

Before Damian could retaliate for their needling, Oracle chimed in. “Uh, guys? You’re going to want to see this. Most of the footage was corrupted beyond repair, but I was able to pull some partial stills and, well…” she threw a handful of pictures up on the screen. There was artifacting marring them, but parts of the stranger were visible in each of them. Oracle magnified one that had a pretty good view of his face.

“Holy shit” Drake whispered.

Damian frowned. “What?”

“Dami, he looks like you. Just… older.” Grayson said softly.

“What are you talking about?” Damian snapped.

“Disregard the pale colouring for a second. The nose, the chin… he looks like you if you had a growth spurt,” Drake wrinkled his nose “and went through puberty.”

The commlines erupted into chaos. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Spoiler exclaimed “are you telling me there’s an older version of Robin running around Gotham?!”

“Copy?” Batgirl inquired.

“Don’t tell me Talia cooked up Demon Brat 2.0!”

“Given that he looks older it’s more likely version 0.1 if anything,” Drake snarked, “though there’s the possibility of artificially accelerated growth rates…”

Damian had had enough. “Tt. You are ignoring the obvious - if this is some kind of supernatural entity it likely copied aspects of my appearance in an attempt to engender feelings of familiarity.” he said haughtily, pushing down the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. There was no way Mother would replace him with a cheap copy. She couldn’t! “Besides, the creature has obvious powers and neither of my bloodlines has any trace of the meta gene.”

“That’s ignoring the ghostly elephant in the room.” Grayson chimed in, “Maybe it’s a dead ancestor?”

Drake gave their older brother an annoyed look “Even a time travelling descendant from the future is more likely than that. And delivering a ‘prophecy’ to boot?”

Oracle pulled up an aged up picture of Damian next to the stranger’s, highlighting several reference points. “On closer inspection, there’s a couple of discrepancies. The cheekbones for one - Robin definitely takes after his mother, while our mystery meta looks more like… well… Robin’s grandmother on the paternal side.” she finished hesitantly. “B?”

They turned to look at Batman, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. If they hadn’t known him so well they would have thought him unaffected, but the tightening around his mouth betrayed his agitation.

“There’s no use in pointless speculation until we have more data to work from,” he growled, “Oracle, look for any reports of a meta matching the target. Since our regular methods have failed to yield results, I will contact the JLD about running tests on the letter.” He turned to Drake, “Red Robin, see what you can find on recent League activities. If this is another scheme by Ra’s or Talia we need to know about it.”

“The last thing we need is more demon spawn running around!” Red Hood groaned over the comms.

Damian was furious. This was absurd! To even indulge the possibility that that creature was in any way related to him was making him feel like he had swallowed battery acid. He was the Demon’s Heir! He was not replaceable! There was only one thing to do.

“Robin? Stop!”

He ignored his Father’s shout. He stomped over to the lab table, snatched up the envelope and broke the seal.

Nothing happened.

He unfolded the paper and saw the same handwriting that had been on the outside.

Brother of blood, brother of soul

Never buried but already mourned

In lightning and ice the scorned child returned

To strike down the Demon’s Head

With all that Death earned

Damian’s hand shook. He reread the lines over and over again, refusing to comprehend. He could feel his Father standing behind him, scrutinising the letter as well.

“Son…”

Suddenly, the paper burst into green flames, going up into smoke that dissipated unnaturally quickly.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Then…

“Well that was needlessly melodramatic” Nightwing remarked.

Part 3

[falling-endlessly]

The Lesson

Vox x Reader

Summary: Vox comes home to find you lying in a pool of your own blood.

As soon as the security cameras in your shared penthouse went dark, he knew something was very, very wrong.

His screen shut off as he focused on any nearby surveillance cameras, only to find that he couldn't get a good angle no matter which direction he turned them to. With a feral growl of frustration, he sent himself through one of the ground-level cameras, ignoring the startled yelps of unsuspecting pedestrians as he zapped into existence.

A path parted for him as he stormed into the building, flashing into the elevator and rigging it to move four times as fast.

He barely restrained himself from just busting down the door in his terrified fury, instead carefully twisting open the doorknob with a white-knuckled fist.

Silence was the second warning. The apartment was never silent, either with Vark thumping around cheerfully or you humming to yourself as you moved through the hallways or tapped away at your keyboard.

The eerie lack of background noise sent an ice cold chill down his spine. He found that he could barely breathe.

With soundless steps, he crept further into the apartment, afraid of what he might—or might not find waiting for him.

He found Vark first, nearly stepping in the growing puddle of blood if he hadn't pulled his foot back in time. Vox strangled a noise in his throat, hastily dropping to his knees as he shrugged off his jacket and tied it as tightly around the shark's mangled side as he could, trying to staunch the bleeding. A numbing thought surfaced in his mind. If Vark was in this condition, then you...

No longer concerned with being silent or careful, Vox flashed into different rooms in your apartment. The bathrooms, the kitchen, the living room.

He found you in your shared bedroom, slumped against the wall as your hair shielded your face. Vox spasmed and glitched, having to mentally force himself to shove his worries in the back of his mind in order to keep control of his movements.

"Y/n?" He whispered, afraid to approach you. Terrified of what he might discover.

You didn't respond, making the cold ball in his chest expand until it felt like his airways were freezing solid. Like his entire body was shutting down.

No. NonoNONONONO.

He half stumbled, half fell at your feet, clawed hands grasping your soft arms and shaking lightly—then harder, when you stayed unresponsive. His knees were wet, something warm—blood, his mind unhelpfully supplied—and his vision was getting concerningly blurry. His hands slid up your shoulders, ignoring the large oozing gash across your chest, and cupped your limp face, where blood was also dripping down the right side in slow rivulets.

"Y/n?" His voice cracked.

When you didn't stir, he let out a choked sob, hastily divesting himself of his dress shirt and pressing the scrunched up ball into your open wound. You didn't even flinch. Fuck.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't do this to me," he said, voice strained as he desperately checked your vitals. His heart nearly stopped when he discovered that yours had.

"Noo," he moaned, sending bolts of electricity into your chest, fruitlessly trying to restart your failed heart. Cursed his lack of proper lips that made CPR that much more difficult.

It took a while before he stopped trying, tiring himself out until crushing sadness replaced the pulsing adrenaline. Vox leaned against the wall, panting as he cradled your cooling body in his lap. He held you when your lips went blue, stroking your hair tenderly like you were still alive. He held you until the first notes of color started to replenish your cheeks once more, until your chest began to delicately rise and fall as your insides repaired themselves.

When your eyelids finally fluttered open, it was to bloodshot, red rimmed ones staring back at you.

"Vox?" You whispered softly, causing your lover to let out a ragged breath. "W-What—?" And then suddenly it all came back to you with a jolt. The demons who broke in and killed you. They didn't want anything you offered them, only to cause as much pain to the TV demon as they possibly could. And what better way to kill him than with his heart? Your bottom lip shook as the horrible memories replayed in your mind, only cut off by the warm chest your face was shoved into.

"Don't," he croaked, shaking his head. "I can see what you're doing, stop it."

Your eyes welled as you let out your own shuddering breath, weak fingers coming up to clutch at the bare skin of his back. He held you as silent tears ran down your face, holding you tighter every time your fingers flexed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you."

"They didn't want anything," you heaved, burying your face deeper in his shoulder. "Th-they just said they wanted to hurt you and—oh my god, Vark!" You immediately moved to get up, only to be pulled back down again.

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed. "The cameras are back online, I can see him moving around in the kitchen." Internally though, his heart pounded with an incredible rage. So some suicidal fuckers thought they could break into his house and lay their hands on you? Holy fucking shit, when he got his hands on them they were going to wish they'd just stayed in the shadows. That was a promise.

You sagged with relief against him, and he let you stay curled up against him for a few more minutes, before he carried you to the shower. After gently helping you clean off, rubbing your tense muscles when your hands trembled, he dressed you in the fuzziest sleepwear you owned, before depositing you carefully under the silk covers.

"Don't leave," you pleaded, making his heart ache. He acquiesced, staying until he was sure you were asleep, before his screen went dark as he lost himself in the flowing web of information that he'd built himself.

His screen flashed red as a single eye opened. "Found you."

That morning you woke up to lean arms draped over you, a defined chest pressed tightly to your back. A small smile graced your lips.

"Morning," he whispered into your ear.

"Morning," you smiled back. And when you asked the silent question, did you do it? He nodded, pulling you closer.

You leaned your head on his chest, thank you. He squeezed your hand, of course.

***

Art inspiration for the scene “Found you.” HERE (from zerochan, as unfortunately I could not find the direct post)

Artist above (Kwiisha) twitter account HERE

[crguang]

meet me in the afterglow

The Astral Express landed on your sick planet and removed the cancer of your world. Even though Himeko belongs with stars as bright as she shines while your place is on steady ground, you would suffer the distance if it meant knowing her.

long distance relationship, hurt/comfort, 7k words.

A/N: this really beat my ass. himeko pov practice, i wanted a more emotional piece so she feels a bit ooc to me

The video call connects and your slightly obscured face is viewed at a low angle. You look down at the screen, smiling with your teeth when you see her, and Himeko easily mirrors your happiness. Her cheek rests in the palm of her hand, elbow on the desk’s surface as she gazes at you through the phone.

“Hiii,” you wave at her cheerfully. Himeko hears the sound of a door closing in the background and with a couple of steps into your apartment, the lights flicker open, illuminating your bright expression born from the mere sight of her. The weariness of her eventful day washes away faced with the striking love you hold for her and she can’t help a short giggle from falling past her lips at your greeting. The musical sound lights up the color in your eyes. 

“Hi. Did you just get home?”

You hum in agreement, your keys rattling in your hands. “Today was so long. I’m happy you called.”

You step out of your shoes and walk around your apartment, only looking up from the screen to open your bedroom door. Himeko watches you prop the device on top of your desk and wander around the room while you discard your jacket. A full-length mirror stands across from the desk, showing your figure even when you’re not in the camera frame.

“Me too, we haven’t talked in a while,” Himeko says as you rummage through your drawers. “How have you been?”

“Yeah, we’ve both been really busy,” you find a clean shirt and begin pulling the one you’re wearing over your head. “Oh!” 

You excitedly walk back in front of the phone, shirt hanging around your neck and exposing your torso. You seem too thrilled to care, but Himeko’s gaze unashamedly lowers to your chest until you clap your hands once and speak again. 

“I got the promotion yesterday! I wanted to tell you. I’d say it was worth being worked to the bone this last month.”

“You did?!” She beams. “I knew you would, no one worked as hard as you have for this. I’m so proud of you.”

The delight on your face warms her from head to toe. It’s a wonder how light you make her despite being multiple warp jumps away, you shine through the distance and effortlessly reach the depths of her chest, filling her with hot air until she’s drifting among the stars she knows so well, weightless. You take the work you do seriously, so she does as well. Your victories are hers, and it feels as though she’s gone through them all with you even though she’s not often physically present. 

“Thank you. How are you? Is the Express parked somewhere?”

“I’m doing good. We’re on the way to Herta’s space station right now for a few minor repairs and to stock up on supplies. We should be there for a couple of days.”

You change into a graphic t-shirt and thin pyjama pants, nodding along to her words. You pick the phone back up and bring it closer to your face. A small, fleeting crease appears between your brows as you truly take her in and notice her lack of sleeping clothes.

“Are you still working?”

Himeko hums lightly, a finger absentmindedly tracing patterns on the desk. “I need to finish up a couple of things.”

You take her with you to the bathroom, and the brighter light makes the concerned down curve of your mouth apparent. “Don’t sleep too late.”

You miss her fond smile. “I won’t.”

You set her up near the sink so you can start brushing your teeth. It’s nice to be privy to these mundane moments, these glimpses of domesticity, even if Himeko wishes she could witness them in person. Her smile twitches at the corners at the cursory thought, but it zooms past when your eyes light up with an idea and you rush to spit the toothpaste into the sink to talk properly. Your expressiveness is a treasure she deeply cherishes. 

“I forgot to tell you,” you quickly rinse your mouth and wipe it with the back of your hand, “I need your advice on something. I was invited to this formal-ish dinner this week and I’m not sure what to wear.”

“What kind of event is it?”

You pick up the phone and make your way back into the bedroom. “An acquaintance’s birthday dinner. It’ll be a good way to make some connections, though, hence my hesitation.”

Upon Humeko’s request, you adjust the screen on your desk to show her the outfits you visualized for the event. You’re too engrossed in your task to feel shy as you change in front of the camera and the endearment of it all almost overshadows the desire bubbling in Himeko’s lowered gaze. She finds her fingertips aching to trail down your bare biceps and forearms, across the tender skin of your wrists and over the lines of your palms; a homogeneous mix of gentle yearning and lingering melancholy simmers inside her chest. The distance between you suddenly feels as immense as it is because no matter what either of you does right now, she cannot touch you. It’s an imposing part of her, touch. Tangling her fingers in your hair, tracing the faint marks of your hips and thighs, pressing reverent kisses on the apple of your cheeks or behind your ears— they are confessions she slowly realizes that she can’t go without. She will utter warm truths meant solely for you, and even shout them if you wish, but her hands are growing restless. She does everything with her hands, she tinkers and soothes and creates, but she cannot touch you, not as often as she craves to. The feeling isn’t unfamiliar, she simply tells herself that she misses you particularly hard on this day and counts the next ones until you reunite. Tonight… perhaps it’s the month-long absence with only scattered messages exchanged between you or the fact that you’re trying on clothes for yet another event she won’t get to experience with you, but the longing curled around her rib cage tingles uncomfortably. 

You turn to face the camera, showing off one of your outfits, and Himeko’s smile holds a sad tint that you don’t notice straight away. It’s hidden behind genuine affection, but she unknowingly becomes slower to answer and you send her a quizzical look. 

“Are you okay?” You ask, stepping closer to the phone to see her better. 

“Of course.” Himeko blinks, not expecting the question, and answers reflexively. You don’t seem convinced, so she adds, “This outfit is my favorite, you look gorgeous in it. You should put your hair up to go with it.”

You nod slowly, eyes flickering over her features in search of what lurks beneath her easy demeanor. When she doesn’t expand on the matter, you let it go. You start taking off the outfit to change back into your pyjamas. It’s briefly quiet for a moment and in usual circumstances the silence would be comfortable but there’s a persistent weight on Himeko’s chest that she can’t part with, it manages to cloud your sunny smiles and bright eyes enough for a soft sigh to escape her. She’s full of affection as you settle into bed with your phone in your hands and look at her with half your face squished into your pillow, it is exactly what this discouragement is born from and she can’t elude it. She feels a touch of guilt come into the mix for having something so beautiful bred such negative emotions. 

Your thumb hovers over her image on the screen as you speak. “If you’re not too busy… I have this weekend off. We could see each other?”

Himeko quickly runs through the tasks she has to complete this week. If she moves some things around and delegates others well, she should be able to free up at least an entire day to visit you— and she will because just the thought of having you close has her floating a few inches from the ground. 

“I can do Saturday,” she replies. The promise of seeing you soon almost melts away every other thought.

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

Her pout is playful but her question is not. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing. I just miss you.”

Right. Though you don’t often complain, she’s reminded that the distance also weighs on you sometimes. Guilt grows steadily in the dark confines of her guts like a slow-acting cancer. Himeko knows it’s not anyone’s fault that she’s a Nameless fated to travel among the stars while you’re rooted to your world, helping its recovery from a Stellaron disaster. You’re needed where you are, she’s walking the path of the trailblaze, but she can’t help feeling awful at the dismissive way you imply that it’s been some time since you last saw each other in person. She bears the responsibility of your happiness and a sense of failure overcomes her whenever it’s clear that her absence saddens you. It’s easier to blame herself when she’s the one who never stays too long in one place.

“…I miss you too, you know.”

“I know,” you offer her a soft smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. Himeko does her best to return it. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too.”

—

Himeko doesn’t show up on Saturday. You’ve left her multiple messages, called her phone throughout the day, growing increasingly worried every time you reached her voicemail, and waited in your apartment for hours in case she would appear on your doorstep. You stand in front of the kitchen counter where two cold servings of her favorite dish lay and stare at the phone screen, opened on your private texts, like the familiar three dots indicating that she’s online will suddenly pop up. You tell yourself that she likely got caught up in something important and ignore the mocking voice that asks, “Are you not important, too?” You feel the food under your nose is laughing at you, its carefully plated vegetables reminding you of your previous excitement and exacerbating your current disappointment, so you put it in a container and throw it in the fridge. You’re not hungry anymore. It’s not the first time your plans have fallen through but Himeko usually warns you that she can’t make it or calls you with soft apologies on her lips. Because of your schedule, you’ve had to cancel a couple of times too, these things happen and no one’s to blame for them. That thought doesn’t dissolve the dejection burning your throat. 

It’s late in the evening, and you settle on the couch with a book you’ve been meaning to read for weeks now but have been lacking the free time to do so. Two chapters in and the words stop making sense; they dance on the page and merge to form completely different sentences as your mind wanders to what lies beyond your skies— the grandiosity of the Astral Express. You visited it a few times, back when its crew parked on your planet and helped seal the Stellaron that was eating at your world. You still remember its large panoramic windows and the boundless stars beyond them, its long hallways and cozy parlor. Traveling with such an extraordinary companion makes each day worth remembering. That train is her oldest friend, she saved it from erosion and has taken great care of it since, it’s witnessed her growth as a Trailblazer and showed her sights you can’t picture. You understand, a little because Himeko introduced you to the constellations with a hand on your forearm and you smell coffee beans whenever you look up at them from your balcony. 

You mark your page and put down the book. There’s no point in attempting to read more tonight, your head is full of those first days spent learning Himeko; her talent for diplomacy, a strength that could shake the seas and a regard for life just as unwavering. She sometimes says your meeting was meticulously etched into the firmament. You didn’t care much for the truth behind fate before her, she single-handedly turned you into a believer like she was an angel apparition bringing news from above. You’d argue being loved by her is akin to a religious experience, her palms soften your woes and her sincere words touch parts of you that you’ve never known until she spoke. You wish to revere her without constraints. 

You’re so lost in memories that the sudden melody of your ringtone startles you. You reach for the phone on the coffee table. You stare at the contact, hesitant, before erasing all wistfulness from your features and accepting the video call.

Himeko waits for the call to connect with a thundering heart and guilt pooling in her stomach. She dreads this so much, dreads seeing the frown on your lips knowing she’s the cause of it, that she’s put back talking to you for two hours now. She owes you an explanation, of course, and she doesn’t seek your forgiveness for her lack of communication. Her apprehension comes from the disappointment she’s sure you’re feeling, and a familiar sense of failure washes over her at the thought of letting you down again.

Your pouty face appears on the screen and Himeko can’t even force a shaky smile. 

“I’m so sorry,” the words are quick to tumble from her lips like they’ve been uncomfortably sitting in the back of her throat for days. “I should’ve called. The Express needed some last-minute repairs and I’m the only one— I’m sorry.” 

It’s the truth, but her voice is small to her ears because it sounds like she’s making excuses when she has none. She should have taken a few minutes to explain the situation to you instead of leaving you hanging for hours after assuring you that she’d be there this weekend. Getting lost in her work is easy and happens more often than not but she has a foreboding feeling that she truly messed up this time around, something curls around her throat and squeezes, forcing unsteady breaths out of her. 

“It’s… It’s fine, Hime. Is everything okay?”

Your easy understanding is not a facade and it worsens her guilt, she could swim in it and not touch the bottom. She sees the hurt you try to push away for her sake, it’s in the depths of your eyes and the slight curve of your mouth. A recurring thought lingers in her mind; she doesn’t deserve you. 

Himeko nods once, futilely swallowing to loosen her throat. “Everything’s alright, I had to sort out some complications with the suspension components and the HVAC systems. I didn’t forget about you, I just… got caught up in other things. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s a bit of a bummer, I made your favorite,” you sigh playfully, hoping to lighten the mood, “I’ll just have to eat it all.”

Your teasing has the opposite effect. Her heart drops knowing you must have been cooking for a couple hours in anticipation of her visit. The scroll of missed opportunities she keeps locked in a corner of her mind grows longer and the longing in her chest expands to her fingertips. 

“You… made my favorite dish? I didn’t deserve that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I wanted to surprise you.”

Himeko rubs at her eye with a weary sigh in an attempt to partially conceal her mournful expression before she has the chance to shift it into something less melancholic. A taunting voice, her voice, whispers in her ear that your efforts are wasted on her, that they’ll forever be wasted on her because she can never be away from the Express for too long. You’re at home, staring at the heavens, waiting for her to land and she breathes easier among the stars. You deserve to live your life without your head constantly in the clouds. She’s holding you back, the voice rings inside her head like multiple murmurs on top of each other, she’s stringing you along despite the weight of circumstance dragging you both down. 

“Hey,” you say softly, noticing the far-away look in her eyes and the quiver in her brow. “We can set up another time to meet. When are you free?”

She wishes she had a definite answer. Pom-Pom is currently reworking their timetable to ensure the Astral Express doesn’t run out of fuel and in the meantime, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be able to see you. Still, she can’t bring herself to tell you the harsh news so she softens the blow to give you some hope.

“I’m not sure… Hopefully next weekend?”

You try hard to keep your face from falling, she can tell, your expressiveness is one of the things she adores most about you. Tonight, it only hurts.

“I’m out of town, it’s my parents’ anniversary, remember?”

“Right.”

The following pause in the conversation is tense with the unsaid, what you both know to be true yet refuse to vocalize; it’s getting harder to make time for each other due to the drastically different, busy lives you’re living. The voice in her head gets louder. It turns into an insistent ruckus fiercely protective of you meant to preserve your wellness even at the cost of her heartbreak. You deserve someone who will take the time to celebrate your accomplishments, who will share the most intimate part of your life with you, and she… Himeko can’t simultaneously be that person and a Nameless. She wants to be there, her body yearns for your proximity to confess all the things she can’t find the words for, but she would have to sacrifice a piece of her identity for that consistency, something she can’t bring herself to do. Her love for you shouldn’t hurt this much. It’s unfair, how her affection is the source of your pain. How much longer can she lie to herself and pretend that having you this way is better than not having you at all? How much longer can she stand the defeat in your eyes?

“...I miss you.” It’s a pitiful sound, helpless and small. She wills herself to be strong against the sad smile you respond with.

“I miss you too. But we’re both where we want to be, right? You get to blaze a trail every day and I make a difference here.” You speak the truth, and yet it doesn’t soothe the tightness of her throat. 

“It doesn’t make it easier, does it?”

“...No. It doesn’t.”

Himeko knows what she has to do. Your smile falters, the following silence weighs on her bones, and she comes to a conclusion long overdue. A quiver runs through her fingers and she has to keep them out of the frame so you can’t see her growing distress. She takes a slow breath, blinks her unshed tears away and forces the words out of her mouth.

“What if… What if we—”

“Don’t say that,’ you interrupt her readily, firmly, furrowed brows worsening her guilt. 

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t take it back.”

She knows that, too. Even so, it was always going to end like this. Himeko feels like she’s falling apart, flayed layer by layer until she sits painstakingly raw in front of you. A screen and millions of miles separate you from her, burning her desires to hold you tight and bask in your comfort to ashes. She is reduced to heartbreak and guilt and yearning, she is an amalgamation of emotions impossible to contain in a human body; her hands shake, her next exhale is wobbly but she can’t bear to look away from you and your sorrow. It’s her fault, it was her pursuit of you that doomed you to where you are now. She was so intrigued by your determination and selflessness, your aching need to create a better life for you and everyone around you despite the corruption of the Stellaron plaguing your planet. Your attention was intoxicating and gave her the same feeling as watching the stars breeze past from one of the Express’ panoramic windows. It hurts now, but she could never regret knowing you. 

“What if it’s the right thing to do?” Himeko asks weakly. Her eyes flicker all over your face as if etching the image of you into her mind. 

“How can this feel right?”

“...Because I love you.”

She loves you and she can’t withstand being the cause of your pain. She can’t string you along knowing she can never give you the companionship you’re worthy of. She can’t keep holding you back from fully enjoying the life you’ve built for yourself. What she can do is spare you months of disappointment. 

You swallow thickly. “And ending things will make it better?”

“I don’t know, but it’s better than… than this.”

She’s not expressing herself properly, her emotions cloud her mind and she finds it difficult to choose the right words to convince you that this is the best decision for both of you. 

“How?”

“Because it’ll hurt less.”

Her eyes shut briefly at your stunned silence and her head tilts away from the screen so you can't see how much this is affecting her.  

“It’ll hurt less than being with me, you mean.” 

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t reply. She wants to say she’s doing this for you, to save you the agony of waiting around for her, but she doesn’t trust her voice to stay steady. Her fingers grip the edge of her desk to keep her grounded. She hears a shuddering breath coming from the other line. 

“Are you breaking up with me, Himeko?” 

Your words announce the point of no return. If she doesn’t do this now, she’ll never find the strength to bring it up again. 

She looks at you, and her reply comes out a choked whisper, “Yes.”

The train’s engine is loud in her ears to fill in the quiet between you. You nod absentmindedly, slowly, as you compute her answer. Your eyes don’t settle on the device in your hand, avoiding her mournful gaze, and the camera shakes a little when you straighten up on the couch. The air is heavy around her, it seems to weigh on her like gravity, and her pulse drums in her head like a haunting tune. Your lips purse to control the quiver in them. 

“...I’m sorry,” she says uselessly.

“I have to… I have to wake up early tomorrow,” you don’t want to look at her a moment more and despite how much that hurts, she can’t find it in herself to blame you. She can’t stand herself either. “Um… Goodnight.”

The call ends before she has a chance to speak. Himeko is left staring at the dark screen, tears blurring her vision at the edges, and without the need to appear fine in front of you, she crumbles. A quiet, choked sound escapes her and she slaps a hand over her mouth to muffle the pitiful sobs that start racking through her body. She spends a lifetime hunched over her desk, forehead resting on its cold surface, crying over the loss of you. Memories of moments shared with you— your sunny smiles and melodious laughter, your sleepy voice over the phone, her adoring palms on your full cheeks— every wishful happy ending that she wanted for you torments her mind. She’s drowning in an ocean of her own making. Regret accompanies her guilt and self-loathing, and she starts telling herself that perhaps she should have fought harder to keep you. She should have sacrificed more, she should have stopped herself from uttering words she can’t erase, she should have… 

A week passes so slowly that it feels like she’s been in this state for a decade. The Astral Express crew have all noticed the changes in Himeko’s mood, her prolonged quiet and red-rimmed eyes, but they’re used to her comfort and don’t know how to ease her mind. They try, clumsily, and she appreciates their efforts even if they amount to nothing. She would turn to you for these sorts of things, now she has no one to tell about how she lost you. Her thoughts circle back to you, she wonders what you’re doing when she wakes up, if you’re mourning her like she is you, if your softness has been replaced by hatred or worse— indifference. She goes through the motions because she has to, as the navigator of the Express she can’t afford a week of feeling sorry for herself when so many things require maintenance regularly. All of it is second nature. Her mind wanders to the tremble of your lips while she goes through her checklist. She blinks tears away as she discusses the conductor’s timetable with them. At night, she stares at her phone and fights the urge to press the call button under your contact name. 

Himeko finds herself in the Express parlor on a night she should have gone to bed early. The universe beyond its big windows no longer offers the same comfort it used to and she sits on one of the large couches, huddled in on herself. A half-empty bottle of wine stands on the floor next to her frame. The warmth in her chest and the fog of mind dull her heartbreak to a tolerable ache, tears are drying on her flushed cheeks and her sniffles are fewer than a half hour earlier. The bright phone screen light hurts her tired eyes but she can’t look away from the last video you sent her of you showing your look before leaving the house for that event you once mentioned to her. In her state, she can’t remember the details. Her stare is on the little twirl you make, the white smile you direct at the camera and the movement of your lips as you ramble about your hopes for the night. The clip plays over and over, it has been in a loop since she started drinking. The train car is quiet, there’s only your excitement livening up the place. She stops hearing most of your words at one point, lost in your features and the way you address her so affectionately. 

The desire to call you simmers inside of her like the alcohol she ingested and makes her fingertips twitch. You’re speaking to her in the video, but it’s not enough. It’s not truly you, just a captured moment of a time she hadn’t broken your heart. She wants to hear the real you, to ease the worry that you hate her now even if she can’t fault you for it. Her muddled mind replays the same thought like an annoying chorus and she sluggishly picks up the bottle on the ground to bring it to her lips. All she feels is a little warmer and a little more numb. She wants you. She wants your arms around her, your murmurs close to her ear. The last time she’s held you dates to around two months ago, maybe, she can’t be sure. Her thoughts are a blur. 

Himeko stares unblinkingly at her screen and doesn’t register that her thumb has navigated to your contact and pressed the call button until the line rings. She puts the phone to her ear with apprehension, heart thundering, and holds her breath. The call goes to voicemail. The defeat that crashes over her almost nullifies the effect of the wine, she sucks her lip into her mouth before calling again. And again, and again, and each time she’s met with the same automated message of you asking to leave a voicemail. Her throat tightens. She feels fresh tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She knows she has no right to expect an answer from you after what she’s done but her distress grows with every call she makes. She just wants to hear you, that loving undertone in your voice when you’re speaking to her like she’s special and cherished. She doesn’t count the number of times she’s pressed the redial button and she doesn’t stop to think off how pathetic she must seem, desperate to hear from someone who wants nothing to do with her. 

The call connects when she least expects it. 

“Himeko?” Your groggy voice answers the phone, leaving her quiet. “Is something wrong?”

Part of her can’t believe you picked up, the other cringes as it realizes that you were asleep. She doesn’t move the phone away from her ear to check the time, she’s frozen in place with her fingers clutching the device. Her mouth opens and closes while she figures out what to say, and the longer she takes the more awkward the silence becomes. Her reply comes out slightly garbled, like she’s biting back her tears, and at first all she manages is your name.

“You… Y-You picked up,” she finally says, swallowing hard to keep her voice from breaking.

“Is something wrong?”

Her eyes squeeze shut. She’s so relieved to hear you again, but the fatigue lacing your words breeds a familiar sense of guilt that washes over her in an instant. She’s woken you up with her insistent calls and your first thought is to worry about her. On one hand, it means you must not despise her as much as her mind has made it seem like. On the other, she’s ripped you from needed sleep and she doesn’t even know what to tell you. She’s wasting your time and if you still felt anything for her prior to now, you surely won’t after that. 

Himeko wills her pulse to slow down enough for her to focus. The wine went to her head thirty minutes ago, and it’s making her hazy. She lets out a shaky exhale, taking a moment to steady her breathing before she answers quietly.

“I miss you.”

“...You called for that?”

She can’t help but flinch at how tired you sound, a hint of annoyance in your tone. She deserves it, she tells herself. It’s the middle of the night and she’s calling you to whine about how she misses you, however true that may be, it’s ridiculous and unfair. Her fingers grip the device tighter, her bottom lips trembles, and she tries to think of a response that won’t irritate you further. 

“No. I mean, yes? I just… I missed you.” She gets progressively quieter as she speaks, eyes shut tight in apprehension. The alcohol slurs her reply slightly and slows her delivery. 

“You don’t get to do this, to call me eight times in the middle of the night after you ended things just to say that you miss me.”

“I know… I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have called you…” Regret fills her lungs and tightens her throat. She wraps an arm around her knees and curls in further into herself. “Are you mad at me?”

“...Are you drunk?”

Himeko pauses longer than a sober person would. “Yes…” She says shamefully. “I’m sorry.���

“Drink some water and go to bed.”

It feels like you’re shutting her out, refusing to speak to her when all she wanted was to hear your voice. Her heart sinks and she tightens her hold around her knees. She barely manages a response after a bit of hesitation. 

“Okay. I will… I just— missed you and it was stupid to think…” She can’t string a coherent sentence together, her thoughts are jumbled because of how little she’s been sleeping lately and the alcohol she’s been sipping on for the past hour. She also has no idea what to say. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and betrays her by spilling unfiltered sentiments. “I can’t stop thinking about you and it’s making me miserable.”

She’s only ever felt this bad after talking to you when she broke up with you over the phone. It’s obvious you don’t want to hear her drunken blabbering  and she feels like a fool, holding back tears as she listens to you breathe on the oher end of the line. She just needs something from you, anything that might provide her some comfort even though she knows she doesn’t deserve it. 

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“Huh?” It takes a minute to understand you. She bites back a sniffle, almost certain you’re about to end the call. You would have every reason to. In a moment of drunken confusion, Himeko forgets herself and blurts out,  “N-No, of course not, I wouldn’t… I love you.” She’s forgotten she can’t say that anymore, and Himeko is left breathless and horrified at the realization. 

The line is silent. She can’t hear your breaths from how loud her heart beats in her ears. Her body tenses, the grip on her phone turns white-knuckled and she doesn’t dare speak another word until you do. 

“...You’re the one who broke up with me. Now you miss me? You love me? Seriously?”

“I do miss you. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing, that it would be better for both of us because you get so sad and it breaks my heart to know that I’m to blame.”

“You don’t get to decide what's good for me. Do you have any idea how I’ve been feeling? It sounds like you did it for you, not for me.”

“No, I…”

“Get some sleep. Goodnight, Himeko.”

Himeko’s body jolts upon hearing your reply, her eyes snap open and she sits up a bit on the couch. There’s more she wants to say to you, but you hung up the phone before she could even call out. She wants to say that it’s not true, she did have your wellness in mind when making that decision. She’s left sitting there, the quiet around her almost deafening. She stares into space as she slowly lowers the phone from her ear. 

After a few more minutes of sitting in her sorrow, Himeko finally heaves a sigh of defeat. She can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much. She sets the phone down on the couch, the urge to throw it across the room almost unbearable. She can still hear your words ringing in her ears as she buries her head in her hands, her fingers digging into her hair, and she desperately tries to hold her emotions from spilling out of her in undignified, strangled noises. Her throat feels like it wants to close in on itself while her chest heaves with the effort it takes not to break down in the middle of the parlor. She needs you. She feels so empty without you, and it’s her fault. She thought she was sparing you unnecessary pain and that you would eventually be better off without someone like her, who you can’t see or talk to consistently. She believed that being apart from you would hurt less than having to sit behind a screen and watch you for hours, longing eroding her bones. She was wrong, and the longer Himeko sits there, the more she’s convinced of it. The arguments she’s made up in her mind to justify her decision feel meaningless. She can only feel the weight of your absence as warm tears stream down her cheeks.

The next day, Himeko reminds herself of the path she follows. The spirit of the Trailblaze lies within her, she’s a Nameless and that means she fights to the end no matter the outcome. Three days after that, there’s a knock on your door.

You’re staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom one evening, letting the comforting patter of the rain against your window panes soothe the melancholy of your heart. The breeze is also welcome, you almost doze off against the pillows, eyelids heavy, when a firm fist knocks on your front door. You hear it through the rain, and a frown tugs at your lips. You’re not expecting anyone in this weather and frankly, you’d rather be alone. You consider ignoring it, hoping whoever is vying for your attention gets discouraged and leaves. After a minute, three strong knocks sound from behind the door again. You leave your bed with an irritated sigh. You stride towards the entrance of your apartment, unlock the door and sharply twist the handle to reveal your visitor. 

Himeko’s soaked figure stands on the porch. The rain darkens her long hair and seeps into her thin clothes, strands of red sticks to her forehead and her coat uselessly hangs around her shoulders, drenched like the rest of her. Water streams down her face but her eyes are clear as they look up at you, wide with nerves and determination. Her body trembles with a cold shiver. Her lips part in fleeting surprise like she wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. She’s been rehearsing what to say to you in her head on her way to your place, making sure she would leave having said everything she meant to tell you. However, now that she’s standing in front of you in the flesh after so long, the words melt on her tongue and all Himeko can do is utter a single word.

“Hi.”

“Himeko…?” You blink at the sight of her like she’s an apparition meant to mock you. “What are you…”

“Before you say anything, please, let me start,” she swallows once and stands a little straighter, head high. Confessions that have been sitting on her chest for what feels like an eternity come tumbling out of her lips. “I was a coward. I gave up on us when times were toughest and let my insecurities make up reasons for it to justify the fact that I was scared. I was scared you would realize that I don’t deserve you and that you’re better off with a woman who can actually be present in your life. I still believe you’re worthy of that but it was wrong to end our relationship over the phone with no proper discussion, and it was worse to call you afterwards while I’d been drinking. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to be without you, no matter what form our relationship takes. I feel you under my skin like the muscles that make my heart beat. Knowing you is part of what makes me happy, it’s as much a part of me as the Trailblaze, and without you, I’m incomplete. Whether that means anything to you now, I… I love you. I’m in love with you. You don’t have to take me back, but I needed you to hear it.”

You stare at her in disbelief. She has to blink the water out of her eyes as she speaks but her voice never wavers, her conviction shines through the pouring rain and sends your pulse into a frenzy. Himeko’s bare shoulders shake with the cold and she gazes at you with a heaving chest while her words settle in the air. At this distance, her fingertips ache to reach out for your touch. She stands in front of you, and she suddenly forgets how you feel under her palms; the texture of your hair between her fingers, the curve of your back, the plane of your stomach. She longs to experience it all. 

It feels like a lifetime before your body decides to obey your mind again. Your heart swells, your lungs fill with air, and you do the only sensible thing you can do. Stepping into the downpour, your palms cup her frozen, rosy cheeks and pull her close. Your lips press into hers with a desperation you didn’t know you were capable of, melding with the softness of her mouth in a passionate kiss. You immediately feel her cold arms around your waist and her wet lips reciprocate your affection. Himeko holds you flush against her as she kisses you with equal emotion, gripping your clothes like she can’t bear the thought of being apart a moment longer. Under the heavy rainfall, you’re as drenched as she is in half a minute. Her breath mingles with yours, your senses become attuned only to her loving mouth and soaked chest pressed to your own. You don’t feel the cold. The water turns your kisses slippery, your lips slide together like you’ve been kissing her your entire life, and Himeko makes a breathy sound into your mouth. In the next instant, her hands are wandering up your back and down your sides, pulling you impossibly close to her body until you’re two pieces of a whole that will never be broken. Her touch spills confessions she will repeat over and over.

Your pace slows to gentle kisses on each other’s lips, foreheads resting together as you catch your breath. Your clothes cling uncomfortably to your skin and a shiver runs through you from the temperature, but your chest warms at the way Himeko’s nose nuzzles against yours. 

“You’ve always been worth the distance, Hime. How could you not be?”

“I’ll find a way to be with you more often. I promise.”

She seals that promise with a revering kiss wet with the heavens’ tears.

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