Her husband was frail and sickly, never without his medicine, and would cough nonstop after breathing in cold air. Yet his soul was like the moon, clear and gentle. One could follow it without getting burned.
His ash-gray eyes were like crystal, always tinged with melancholy and illness. The words he might use to describe it weren't quite right, but to him, his husband's looks could only be called beautiful, and his talent was unmatched.
The novels his husband wrote used sharp prose to satirize human nature. Perhaps that was because he had seen through it completely. He liked to watch the sunrise at the harbor on misty days. Nakajima Atsushi worried about his health, since the salty sea breeze was never kind to his husband's fragile lungs and airways. Whenever Atsushi brought it up, his husband would smile and pat his head, telling him that missing a beautiful view over a little discomfort would be a shame.
Ever since he met his husband at fourteen, he had been cared for by him. His husband was his salvation.
Theme: Shipping Atsushi and Akutagawa.
