Tatsuki
While Sakamaki-san was on the phone, I silently stared at Sakurai who was still sleeping. He looks like his life was drained from him; pale skin, swollen eyes, and skinny body—different from him who I met about over a month ago back in the café.
“He looks pitiful, doesn’t he?” Alaster muttered. His words sounded harsh, yet they were all true. Only the word pitiful is able to describe how Sakurai looks right now. I nodded in agreement.
Alaster gently caressed the wounds on Sakurai’s neck, checking it’s condition. “Who would’ve thought that even a fated pair—who most of us deemed as romantic—ended with some cases of severe injuries like this or even death.” His brows arched into a look of pity, sympathy was reflected inside his piercing amber eyes.
His words got me thinking about
