There was something so sweet about when the lights went out. There were no sounds, except light breaths that skittered across skin. If her hands followed certain lines on his body, he would shudder, and pull her closer. She only wished she could see his eyes.
They had said she should do it, just look at him while he slept, but she felt pained every moment she thought of it. The candle was right there—right there—and she held on to the small thread of will that was left. If he hadn't cradled her so close to his cheek, or if he hadn't kissed her forehead in that special way, perhaps the thread wouldn't have broken.
It snapped.
And his eyes were so beautiful.