Honkai Star: Rail x Reader Oneshots

"And it feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders" | Sunday x Reader

Summary: In the quiet of the Oak Family's garden, Sunday faces the heavy burden of his duty to protect others through an illusion of peace. When you find him struggling, you offer comfort, helping him realize he doesn't have to bear it alone.

Tags: Ficlet, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, Garden Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comforting Touch, Soft Moments, Burden of Responsibility, Compassionate Reassurance, Inner Turmoil, Realization of Self-Worth.

Warnings: Emotional Anguish, Mentions of Escapism, Themes of Burden and Responsibility, Melancholy Atmosphere.

Some people are like candles, they burn themselves to give others light. -Someone from Pinterest

The moon cast a gentle glow over the Oak Family's garden, illuminating Sunday's lonely figure on the marble bench beneath the ancient willow tree. His normally composed features were marked by anguish, his golden eyes-usually so bright-dimmed with sorrow. His halo, hovering just behind him, flickered weakly, its eye-like details reflecting his turmoil. He rested his head in his hands, the angel-wing earrings drooping, their color muted by the darkness around him.

"Sunday?" The soft voice came from behind, laced with concern. You approached him cautiously, sensing the fragile state of his heart. Sunday looked up slowly, his gaze hollow, and the weight of his unspoken burdens was evident in the dim light.

"It's... too much." He finally admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "The burden of leading, the constant need to protect everyone... it's overwhelming." He sounded exhausted, as if the words themselves had taken what little strength he had left.

You knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand over his, feeling the coldness that ran deeper than just the night air. "Sunday, you don't have to carry this alone," you murmured, your voice filled with quiet reassurance. "It's alright to let someone else be there for you."

For a moment, he was silent, as though he could hardly allow himself to believe those words. "But... how can I let anyone else bear this?" His voice trembled, betraying the hidden vulnerability he so carefully concealed. "They all want an escape, a way to avoid their suffering. If I can give them that, isn't it my duty to do so?"

The pain in his words struck you deeply, and you understood then the twisted compassion he bore-the willingness to bear the burden alone to give others a sense of peace, even if it was a fleeting illusion. Yet, you could see how this choice had corroded his spirit, burdening him with a weight that no one should have to bear alone.

"Sunday," you whispered, lifting your hand to gently touch his face. He flinched at first, but then leaned into your touch, searching your eyes. "People may seek escape, but true peace comes from facing reality, from growing even when it's painful. You can't protect them from everything; sometimes, you have to let them find their own way."

He closed his eyes, as if letting your words settle within him, and you felt a slight release in the tension that had clouded him. The dim light of his halo grew a touch brighter, flickering with renewed strength. When he looked at you again, something softer shone through his sorrow.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice trembling. "For seeing through it all... even when I couldn't."

A gentle silence wrapped around you both, and the garden's stillness seemed to absorb the unspoken understanding. Sunday allowed himself, just for this moment, to rest in your presence, letting his guard down. And as he leaned into your embrace, a fragile peace bloomed in the quiet night-a rare, genuine comfort amidst all the illusions he had sought to create.