He held her slender arm and turned to find her propping her head with one hand, sound asleep.
The traces of sleeplessness under her eyes were particularly clear and noticeable.
The soft touch from her fingertip was from her wrist, which looked fragile, yet he knew very well what kind of brilliant sky these hands had upheld.
Indeed, everything about her was good; the only thing missing was a trace of joy or anger. She was as cold and tranquil as the night sky, with stars shining mysteriously and enchantingly, yet impossible to pursue. After all, what she yearned for was the real stars and the ocean, leaving no room for anything else.
However, when one has walked in darkness for too long, even a fleeting flash of light becomes something to grasp, even if it's a weak and indifferent glow, there's still a longing to possess it.
