His husband was too frail and sickly, always taking medicine from his body, and would cough when he breathed in the cold air, but he had a soul like the moon, transparent and gentle, and he would not be burned if he pursued it.
His smoky gray eyes were like crystals, always with a hint of melancholy and illness. Although the adjective he was thinking of might not be appropriate, in his eyes, the only word that could describe his appearance was beautiful, and his talent was unparalleled in the world.
The novels written by my husband always use spicy writing to satirize human nature, probably because he has thoroughly seen through human nature. My husband always likes to go to the harbor to watch the sunrise on misty days. Nakajima Atsushi is worried about his health. The salty sea breeze is always unfriendly to my husband's fragile lungs and respiratory tract. Whenever he brings this up, my husband always touches his head with a smile and tells him that it would be a pity if he misses the beautiful scenery because of a little discomfort.
Ever since he met his husband when he was fourteen years old, he has always been taken care of by him. He is his salvation to him.
Intention: I've hit the mustard