𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧.

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You took a peek, opening one eye, and saw the boy's fingers merging with your own. At this distance, his large hands seemed cruel, as if he could snap your wrists with a handshake or two. They feel rough, calloused, but the way he held your hand with such gentleness and warmth that you might've thought of him as a friend instead of a mere stranger.

You blink up at him, feeling confused yet grateful at the same time. It was clear that he was making an attempt to comfort you from your fears (or rather, maybe he wanted you to shut up?) but nevertheless, you didn't know why he was kind to someone like you, an unknown person.

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