He looked at it for a while, only wanting to laugh.
Mockery.
He truly still found Archer detestable.
The fireplace had long been cold, but Seventeen still wanted to destroy the painting.
"That's my belonging."
As he hesitated, a slightly hoarse voice came from the doorway.
It was Hannah.
The girl, who had been absent for so long, reappeared in front of the stone house, her red cloak covered in dust. Her eyes were dull, like a night sky that had lost its stars, with nothing left but a deep blue expanse.
"That's my belonging."
She spoke again, pointing at the painting Seventeen was holding.
"Hannah," Seventeen stood still, unsure of what to say, remembering the thoughts that had just flashed through his mind, now feeling nothing but tension.
He had wanted to destroy the painting.
Hannah did not respond to him but walked over and took the painting from his hands.
She looked down at it, lost in thought.
"Hannah, come with me," Seventeen suddenly said.
