Page 131 of Eternal

AZRA

“And I Love Her” by Kurt Cobain

Present

W e stumble inside, dripping wet, the cold rain still clinging to our skin. I start peeling off my jacket, but he stops me with a sharp look.

“Wait. You need to finish eating first, ma’am.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He crosses his arms, stubborn. “Yes, you are. I’m filling the tub. You eat. Now .”

I sigh but grab the burrito he handed me earlier and sit down, eating fast while he moves around the bathroom.

When I’m done, I find him in the tub, testing the water with his hand, his brow furrowed like he’s doing a science experiment.

In the corner, a bottle of shampoo sits next to some hair products. He’s reading the labels, like he’s trying to learn how to wash my hair right.

He turns suddenly, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Get naked now.”

I laugh, shaking my head, but I do it anyway.

We sink into the warm water together, the steam curling around us and I feel like I’m daydreaming again. For the first time in so long.

He reaches up and starts gathering my curls in his hands. “So… you start with this?”

I chuckle, watching him carefully follow the routine. “Yeah. You gotta be gentle, no pulling.”

He frowns in concentration, trying to get it right. “I think I’m learning.”

I smile softly. “You’re doing better than most.”

His fingers thread through my curls again, this time slower, like he’s savoring the feel. “I love your hair.”

I shrug, a little vulnerable. “They used to be ugly. I wasn’t allowed to take care of them when I was younger.”

He leans down, lips brushing the shell of my neck. “I’ll wash them. Take care of them.”

I sigh, leaning into the warmth of him. “Romantic much?”

He grins against my skin. “What can I say? I’m the perfect partner.”

I laugh softly, dream-heavy. Inside, I feel sharp edges of old pain, like I’m glass again, broken in pieces. Every touch risks cutting him. But he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, his hand slides down, resting on my stomach.

Warm.

His hand is so warm…

His fingers draw lazy circles and I close my eyes, but his arms tighten around me, holding me like I matter.

Sleep claws at me, exhaustion breaking through years of guardedness.

I want to pull away, afraid to let myself fall, but I don’t.

His voice is soft in my ear. “You can rest. I’m here. Let’s go to bed, Azra.”

I nod, and we climb out of the bath, tired. He quickly dries us both with a towel, then helps me slip into a loose t-shirt and then he puts on his shorts.

I close my eyes, trying to memorize the feel of his hands, the scent of soap and skin, the soft scrape of his breath against my neck.

He dries my hair gently, his fingers soft and careful against my scalp. Then he takes my hand and leads me back to the bedroom.

As I settle into bed, he sits beside me, brushing my hair back, slowly, thoughtful.

Tears sting my eyes. He’s so gentle it actually hurts. Gentle with me. Me . The girl who’s never been gentle with herself.

I don’t deserve this, but he’s here anyway.

“Tomorrow,” he says quietly, “We’ll pack some of your stuff. Then you’ll stay at my apartment, okay?”

I nod. “I’m excited. Are you going to cook for me every day?”

He chuckles, gripping my unfinished braid tight before pulling my head back and kissing me.

“I’ll cook for you every day and eat you out every night, I promise.”

A laugh escapes me, so real it’s scary.

I close my eyes, feeling the softness of his touch, his breathing on my back. I like it. I don’t want to forget. I want to remember. It feels warm, delicate. I really like this feeling.

“You know,” he murmurs, “I never thought I’d care about something like this.”

I opened one eye, surprised. “What, hair?”

“No. You .”

Me.

I can’t do this. My heart is going to explode.

When he’s done, he stands and looks up at the ceiling, where tiny stars I’d drawn look back at us. No names under any of them. I couldn’t name them. I think it was too much for me.

But then he pulls a pen from my nightstand and adds another star next to them. It’s bigger, brighter, almost glowing against the pale ceiling. Then he writes my name beneath it.

I watch him, breath catching, feeling exposed and safe all at once.

I caught my eyes tattooed on his back. My eyes. The ones I hated for so long. On his skin. Forever.

I want to say something, anything, but the words are stuck in my throat. When he turns back, I get up, take the pen again, and write his name beside mine. Then I add one more word: Eternal.

Then I settle back, reach out, and pull him down until he’s lying fully on top of me. Now, I’m kissing him.

Our lips meet, tentative at first, then deeper.

I think I love him. I think Kat is right.

How the hell am I supposed to keep my guard up when he makes me feel like this?

“You’re dangerous for my heart,” I whisper against his mouth.

He chuckles softly. “We’re even, then.”

And just like that, I know, I’m completely, hopelessly fucked .

He curls around me, hand warm on my stomach. Slow circles. Soft breath.

And I close my eyes. Breathe. And I don’t ever want to forget this.

For a second, I let myself want . A home. Safety. Him. Somewhere I don’t have to flinch. Somewhere I can simply… be .

It’s quiet in my head for once. And God, I don’t want this night to end.

Sleep comes soft. Maybe this time, I’ll be okay.