his star

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨

The dark colour of her eyebrows is noticeable, even when the rest of the room is black. Every hair that belongs to them gets traced with my eyes, wondering how the shape of her eyebrows can still look that impeccable even when she is fast asleep, not knowing that her picture-perfect face gets examined by me.

I wonder what she might be dreaming of. Is she dreaming of something sad? Something weird, funny or did her father maybe visit her and the two of them are now talking as if they have never left each other?

Who knows, maybe she won't even remember the film that ran through her mind, the reality her brain created for her.

A part of me really hopes that she is dreaming something nice and that any moment, her lips will turn up into a slight smile, a smile that is only for me. I want to see her happy, want to see the effect the dream might have on her face because now she looks like one of those paintings that are exhibited in a museum, a painting which is so valuable that it has to be locked away so that no one has the chance to ruin it, even though it seems impossible that it can get less beautiful, less perfect.

I have so many words I can describe her with, so many things that can be compared with her, but no matter how hard I would try, no matter how large my vocabulary is, it wouldn't be nearly enough to find the right words for her.

I could call her an angel, but then I have to ask myself why she is only one if she could be the whole paradise these spiritual beings live in.

I could call her picture-perfect and compare her to a painting, but the more I think of it, the less that fits either because she isn't just a painting anyone could draw. She isn't just someone that falls under the definition of a picture-perfect face because that would mean that there are a lot of other people who are like her, but in real life she is the only one. She needs her own word that is only meant for her and that is untouchable for every other person in the world, a word that can only be spoken aloud by me and a word that will only ever reach the pair of ears of one specific human being.

Adhara isn't just one of those paintings you can look at for a few minutes and then move on to the next. She is a whole gallery that is filled with her and only her so that no one is ever able to escape her stunning appearance, her face with all the details that have the power to hypnotise someone just by looking at her for a split of a second.

Maybe not even the brightest star would be bright enough for her. Maybe not even a whole galaxy would be big enough for her because every time I think that I have found something that comes a bit closer to describing her, I always start to drift farther away because there is always something bigger, something brighter, something better.

Even in the dark she captures me with every part of herself, even with her eyes closed she has the power to hold me in her ban.

In this moment, we are still just a boy and a girl, two people who aren't together but who aren't far away either. In this moment, the outside world would see us as two people who get along with each other, but we know deep down that there is far more to come.

My finger brushes over her chin, head coming closer to hers so that I have a better shot of making me hearable.

"Adhara, wake up." I whisper into her ear, repeating the words until her body starts to move, until her mind releases her from her dream.

Her eyes slowly open, trying to make out the vision of me and when she finally is able to see a bit, she takes in a deep breath and starts to move her eyeball in order to find out if she is still lying in her bed.

"Draco?" her sleepy voice says, hand trying to escape the warmth of the blanket so that she can put it on top of mine that is still touching her face. "What are you- How did you-"