The low hum of the Astral Express echoed softly through the cabin, steady and endless beneath a sea of drifting stars. The alarm chimed once. You reached out to silence it, then rolled over, feeling someone's head resting on your arm. For a moment, you remembered.

Cyrene had finally come aboard.

Her hair spilled across the pillow, pink strands shimmering faintly under the passing glow of nebulae beyond the window. You brushed them aside, fingertips tracing the slow rhythm of her breathing — fragile, real, alive. Right in your arms.

-"Maybe we should fall in love with our eyes closed, keeping it somewhere untouched by what we know. The past, the names, the faces, none of it matters now. Nobody’s perfect, but that’s alright. Let it go. It’s better if we fall in love with our eyes closed."-

Feeling your gaze, Cyrene stirred, lashes fluttering open. Her voice was soft and husky with sleep when she lifted a hand to cover her face.

“Don’t look… I must look awful right now.”