Page 113 of Eternal
DAMIR
“How To Save A Life” by The Fray
Present
B eing domestic with someone always felt like a joke.
The whole “ laugh in a room that smells like love and food ” thing. The coziness of affection in the smallest acts.
It's like a twisted beautiful dream built for people who aren't broken like me.
I've seen it before, what that life looks like for other people. The quiet dinners, the soft smiles and laughs, the way a man’s hand brushes over a woman’s waist like she belongs with him, the way her happiness fills the room, and he thinks it's the best sound he’s ever heard.
I never thought that could be mine if I’m being honest.
I thought I’d die taking a bullet deep into my skull way before that could ever happen. I’m not wired for it. I don’t have the patience, the softness, the kindness to fit into that world.
Fuck, I barely know how to exist in my own skin most days, let alone in someone else’s space and life.
It's pathetic, really, how much I've wanted it, craved it so much I made it an unreachable goal in my head, a small part of me that I've tried to kill again and again.
The part that dreamed of sitting at a table, feeding my person pasta or whatever food she wanted, and letting her steal bites from my plate.
The part that imagined her body against mine, her laughter singing through a place we both called home.
I hate that I wanted it. I hate that even now, I can still feel the sting of being unworthy of that kind of simple love. Because men like me? We don’t get that.
We get cold lonely nights, empty bottles, and silence, we get bloodstains on our hands and ghosts that keep us company forever, grief that drains the final drop of hope we’ve ever tasted in a lifetime steeped in pain.
But then… The thought hits me like a hard slap.
Because she’s here. My Azra is right here. Right now, in this room, and against every rule of this fucked-up world, I'm the one she’s with.
The scent of pizza fills the air, Azra is barefoot, wearing my shirt, her curly hair messy yet perfect. She’s talking about Viktor and Kat, but honestly, I'm not listening. Not really.
I’m too busy watching her.
She stayed .
She stayed when I asked her to, and she never stays, she’s scared of this.
When we sit down to eat, I can't help but keep my eyes on her, like my soul has left my body, floating and witnessing this. The way she grabs my plate, even though I told her to stay on her side of the table to piss her off. How she rolls her eyes at me but still smiles.. .fuck , that smile. It’s the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
She keeps it as I feed her a slice of my pizza, like I didn't argue with her for five minutes about not sharing just to see her pissed off, because she looks adorable when she’s angry.
I listen to her voice, the soft gasp she makes when she leans into my kiss, letting me taste the sauce still lingering on her lips, and then there’s the heat, the passion, the way her breath catches when my hands slide up her thighs slowly appreciating the way she’s so responsive while lifting her onto the counter.
The way her back arches inviting me in even deeper while her fingers tangle in my hair, as if this moment, this simple, quiet chaos, could go on forever and ever.
And it hits me harder.
This isn't some unreachable dream and for once.
It’s real.
And somehow, I’m living it.
It’s the little things that hit hardest, because it is hitting.
She’s mine for tonight, at least, maybe longer. But for now, she’s letting me pretend that I belong in this moment. Even though I know I never will entirely, I’ll try though, for her.
I think … I think I’ll do anything for her.
And when we sit on the sofa, she cuddles up to me, letting the sound of the TV blend with the sound of her voice as she stretches lazily across my lap.
She picked the movie and threatened me to never talk as long as it was on.
Casablanca plays softly in the background, but I can’t stop playing with her hair. I love her curls.
“You’re ruining this movie. Focus. And stop playing with my haaaaiiir!” she mutters, her eyes sparkling with affection I probably don’t deserve as she looks up at me.
I raise an eyebrow, half-watching the screen. “Not gonna lie, I can’t stop looking at you, partner . The movie can fuck off or be background while I fuck you up.”
She scoffs, a lazy smirk pulling at her lips. “You’re lucky you got to touch me yesterday. Don’t push your luck.”
I lean down, my fingers brushing her hip. “Yesterday?” I murmur. “Pretty sure I touched you tonight, too.”
She rolls her eyes, laughing softly. “Fucking hell… just watch the movie.”
I chuckle. “What? Okay, let me focus and see if it’s more interesting than looking at you.”
She shifts again, her head resting against my chest. “It’s my favorite,” she whispers. “If you don’t like this movie, you probably don’t understand what love really looks like.”
I stare at her for a long moment.
Maybe I do, maybe I know exactly what my version of love looks like.
“It’s not all about dramatic goodbyes and sacrifice, partner .
” And then the words slip before I can stop them when I catch her smile.
“What are you smiling for? If you ever leave me, I’ll find you.
” A beat. “Maybe kill you. Then haunt myself to death. Very romantic in my humble opinion.”
She laughs and elbows me in the ribs. “Right. And they say romance is dead.”
“Gotta keep it interesting,” I mutter. “I like you. A lot.”
Silence.
I freeze. Shit. Why did I say that?
She stops the movie and starts putting on her music like she needed it to keep talking like that, heart open, and the movie was too distracting to her.
She looks at me with something unreadable in her eyes. “ Oh ?” she teases gently, leaning in. “You really like me?”
I nod, painfully honest. “Yeah. So don’t run. I’m bad at grief. Might go full tragic villain.”
“Are you trying to be romantic using that weird, toxic and possessive threat?”
“I mean... maybe?” I brush her hair back from her face, my voice softer than I intend. “I’ll forever be romantic for you. Even when it’s messy. Especially then.”
She goes quiet, her fingers rest lightly on my chest. “I don’t like thinking about forever ,” she says finally. “Feels… heavy . Scary. Like tempting fate.”
I don’t answer right away. I let my hand trace slow, steady circles on her back. “Why’s it scary?”
“Because things end. People leave. Everything changes. Even the good stuff.”
“Maybe,” I say quietly. “But you being mine doesn’t feel temporary.”
She doesn’t respond immediately, but she shifts closer. “I think… I like being your partner,” she mumbles, like the words are new in her mouth. “ Your only one.”
My lips twitch, almost smiling. “My favorite and only partner. As long as you promise to never try to kill me again just to make forever possible.”
She hums, glancing up. “No promises. But if it’s with you… maybe forever wouldn’t be so bad.”
I brush a thumb down her cheek, voice low. “Then it’s settled.” I grin now, darker, playful. “I’ve got you now. My eternal partner.”
She hummed softly, staring up at the ceiling, her voice dropped to a whisper. “ Eternity ... that's a long time, though. How are you even going to entertain me for that long?”
I slid my fingers under her chin, tilted her face toward mine.
“I’ve already got you, don’t I?” I murmured. “You’re mine now. My eternal Azra. You just don’t get to back out.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a threat.”
“Nah. Sounds like foreplay .”
Her breath hitched, just slightly.
I dragged my thumb along her lower lip, watching it part. “I don’t care what it means or what it’s called. I just need you to stay exactly where you are.”
“Possessive much?”
“Deadly.” I kissed the corner of her mouth. “And I mean it. No one else gets you. Not in this life. Not in the next.”
She stared up at me like she was memorizing something, then: “Fine. You win. Eternity it is.” A pause. “But if you get annoyed, I’m stabbing you, again.”
I grinned. “That’s right.”
She sighed into me, and I let the silence stretch before leaning in again, lips just above hers.
“We’re eternal , partner,” I whispered.
And this time, when I kissed her, she didn’t flinch or pull away. She kissed me like she believed it too.