I… can’t sleep.

Lyra lay on the floor, staring into the dark, her body still but far from relaxed. The blanket was wrapped around her, yet it did little to keep the cold from seeping through. The floor beneath her felt harder than before, like her body had become more aware of it the longer she stayed awake. Every now and then, the yacht shifted slightly, just enough for her to feel it through her back, a quiet reminder that nothing around her was stable.

The storm had settled compared to earlier, but it hadn’t disappeared. It lingered in the distance, low and constant, no longer overwhelming but still present enough to fill the silence. Without the loud crashes from before, smaller sounds became harder to ignore—the faint creak of the structure, the uneven rhythm of water brushing against the hull, the way the air felt heavier than it should have.

She adjusted slightly, shifting onto her side, but it didn’t help.

Across the room, Ren lay on the bed, staring up into the same darkness.

One hundred and two sheep… one hundred and three… one hundred and—

He stopped.

The numbers slipped before they could settle. They didn’t stay long enough to follow through, breaking apart somewhere between one count and the next. Every time he tried to focus, something interrupted it—the subtle movement beneath him, the quiet but constant sounds of the yacht, the way his body refused to fully sink into the mattress.

He exhaled quietly and shifted, running a hand through his hair before letting it rest beside him.

This is pointless…

Lyra didn’t turn, but she noticed. The small movements, the slight shift in the bed, the quiet rustle of fabric—it stood out in the silence more than it should have. She stayed still, listening for a moment, before letting it pass.

Neither of them spoke.

Time passed without anything to measure it by.

After a while, Lyra pushed herself up slowly, careful not to make unnecessary noise. The blanket slipped slightly from her shoulder as she moved, and she adjusted it without thinking. Her feet met the floor again, colder than before, but she didn’t hesitate this time.

She stepped toward the window above Ren’s head and stopped at the side of the bed, closer than she had been before.

Her hand reached toward the curtain. It paused for a moment, then pulled it aside.

The fabric dragged slightly before giving way, and moonlight entered the room all at once. It cut through the darkness in a way that felt almost sudden, landing across her face and forcing her to flinch. Her arm lifted instinctively to shield her eyes, her brows tightening slightly against the brightness.

She stayed like that for a moment before lowering her arm.

Her eyes adjusted.

The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass, reflecting the moon in broken fragments that shifted with every movement of the waves. The light didn’t stay in one place—it bent and reformed, scattering and gathering again, never quite settling into a fixed shape. The moon itself felt larger than she remembered, not just in size but in presence, as if it belonged to everything around it instead of sitting apart from it.

Lyra didn’t move away.

Her breathing slowed without her realizing it, her shoulders easing slightly as she took it in. There was something about it that didn’t need to be understood, something that simply existed in a way that felt complete on its own.

I really wish I could listen to some music right now…

The thought came quietly, not out of habit, but because of what she was seeing.

She lowered her gaze.

Ren was already looking at her.

He hadn’t moved.

For a brief moment, neither of them reacted. The moonlight caught part of his face from where he lay, leaving the rest in shadow. His eyes held steady, not intense, not soft—just aware, like he had been watching longer than she realized.

Up close, the details stood out more than they should have. His hair fell loosely across his forehead, slightly wavy, not styled but not messy either. His eyes were sharper than she expected, darker in the low light, holding a quiet focus that didn’t shift. The bridge of his nose caught the faint glow, clean and straight, leading down to lips that rested slightly parted, relaxed without effort.

She didn’t look away right away. 

Lyra stilled.

She hadn’t expected him to be awake.

“Sorry… is it too bright?” she asked, her voice low.

“Yes…” he replied, just as quietly.

“I’ll close it.”

She didn’t wait for anything else. Her hand reached forward again, pulling the curtain back into place, shutting the light out as quickly as it had come.

The room returned to darkness.

Lyra stepped away from the bed and went back to where she had been lying before. She lowered herself onto the floor again, adjusting the blanket around her as she settled in, this time facing slightly away.

Ren shifted on the bed, turning his head in the opposite direction.

The silence returned.

Time passed, slow and undefined. The storm outside continued to settle, its presence fading into something distant, something that no longer pressed against them the same way. The yacht still moved, but it felt less noticeable now, easier to ignore.

Lyra had almost closed her eyes when she heard movement again. The soft rustle of sheets. The shift of weight. Footsteps crossing the room.

She opened her eyes.

Ren was heading toward the door.

“Wait… where are you going?” she asked.

Ren paused.

“I need to use the toilet,” he said.

He reached for the handle.

“Wait.”

He glanced back.

“Hm?”

There was a small pause before she spoke again.

“Can I come with you?”

“…What?”

“Can I come with you?”

Ren looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable in the dark.

“…Sure.”

Lyra got up and followed him.

They stepped into the hallway together, the door closing behind them with a soft sound. The air outside felt colder, carrying a faint dampness from earlier. The storm was still there, but it no longer surrounded them the same way. It echoed faintly through the structure instead of pressing against it.

Ren walked ahead. Lyra followed just behind him. Close enough to hear his steps. Far enough not to touch. Neither of them spoke. They reached the bathroom without saying anything.

“You wait here. I’ll be back,” Ren said.

She nodded.

He stepped inside.

The door closed.

Lyra stood still, her arms drawn slightly inward, her fingers resting against the fabric of her sleeve. The quiet returned almost immediately, settling around her in a way that felt heavier without movement.

She waited.

The sound of running water, followed by a flush, faded into silence before the door opened and Ren stepped out. 

“You wanna go?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she murmured.

“I’ll wait outside.”

She stepped past him without replying.

The door closed again.

Ren leaned lightly against the wall, his gaze drifting down the hallway. It felt longer than before. Quieter.

He didn’t think much of it at first.

Time stretched longer. Ren shifted his weight slightly, the quiet settling around him again before the door finally opened and Lyra stepped out. He looked at her without thinking, his attention catching before he could pull it away.

Something from earlier stayed with him. The way the light had caught her face, the stillness in the room, the way she had stood there without trying—it lingered, clearer now than it had been in the moment. Even in the dim hallway, it didn’t fully disappear.

Her hair rested naturally along her shoulders, slightly out of place but not enough to matter, a few strands shifting as she moved and brushing lightly against her cheek. Her eyes remained steady, framed by soft lashes that curved without effort, her skin catching what little light there was in a way that made it seem smoother than it should have. There was nothing exaggerated in it, nothing that stood out on its own, yet everything settled together in a way that was hard to ignore. 

He blinked.

Then looked away. 

This time, he didn’t hold it. They walked back to the room together in silence and lay down again, the distance between them unchanged, yet not quite the same. 

The storm outside continued to settle, and slowly, without either of them realizing it, so did everything else.

Sleep came not long after.