Page 138 of Eternal

AZRA

“Do I Wanna Know” by Hozier

Present

I hate crying. Maybe it’s because I stopped doing it so early on. Or maybe it’s because they told me to stop. That I had to be strong, when all I wanted was to break down and sob until I couldn’t breathe.

When I started living alone, I gave myself one night a week to fall apart. Only one. I’d turn off all the lights, lie on the floor, and put a song on full volume. Then I’d cry until my head throbbed and my eyes went numb.

It became this weird routine. Like maybe if I fell apart on schedule, I could keep it together the rest of the time.

I thought it would help me keep the rest of the week together, like if I stuffed the grief into a single night, I could pretend it wasn’t always there.

At first, I visited them a lot. I’d sit by my brother’s grave for hours, sometimes saying nothing. Just being there. Sometimes I’d talk to him like he was still around. Like he might answer back if I said the right thing.

I miss him more than I know how to say.

So why am I thinking about all this now?

Right now, I’m surrounded by the people I love most. Kat’s cooking dinner. Damir and Vik are outside, smoking and playing with the dogs.

I’m here on the couch with a cup of tea, staring at a file I can’t bring myself to open. The invitation. A few days before my birthday. And all I can think is: I want it to come faster.

Damir promised me this birthday would be better.

Maybe this time I’ll have a cake. And love .

The front door creaks open again, heavy boots, familiar voices, cold air rushing in. Then the sofa dips beside me. A hand finds its way into my curls, twirling them lazily. I don’t even have to look.

Damir is smiling. He always is when he looks at me.

Vik drops onto the other side of the couch with a sigh. “Just threatened Damir to take care of you.”

I roll my eyes. “Are you insane?”

Damir laughs under his breath. “He’s protective, right?” he mutters.

“I need a girl with me,” I called out toward the kitchen. “Kat, help!”

“You realize I could kill you both, right? So why would I need to be taken care of?” I add all serious and confused.

That makes them laugh harder.

Damir’s hand disappears behind my back, I feel a pinch near my waist. He leans in, lips brushing my ear. “Kill me later,” he whispers. “Keep all that sexual tension inside.”

I burst out laughing. God, he’s so annoying.

“Oh!” Vik groans. “Stop whispering stuff like that when I’m right here. Makes me wanna shoot you, Damir.”

Damir kisses me quickly then looks at Vik with fake innocence. “Should’ve kissed her earlier.”

I laugh again. And right on cue, Kat walks in carrying a full tray.

“DINNER IS READY!” she shouts like we’re in a dorm. She grins. “Tonight: borscht night.”

Vik whoops and high-fives her. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

We’re not even at the dinner table. I grab the remote and put the movie on.

“Casablanca again?” Vik groans, already sinking into the cushions.

“Don’t complain,” I smirk. “If you do, we'll watch it twice.”

Damir takes my hand and kisses it. “Don’t tempt her.”

I catch Kat smiling across the couch, giving me a thumbs up.

He’s a good one, Visha.

She’s right. He is. And for a second, I feel this weird pressure in my chest. Like my past and my future are both here, and I’m sitting exactly between them. Hopeful. Scared. Happy .

I notice Damir checking his phone again, smiling.

“Hey,” I nudged him. “What are you looking at?”

He shrugs. “Jealous?”

“Stupid.”

“It's a surprise, partner. Focus on the movie.”

We eat, talk, and fall into the warmth of each other. It’s late by the time we go out again. The dogs run toward me, excited and soft and familiar. I kiss them, hug them like they’re my own.

“Why don’t you keep them?” Damir asks behind me, smoke curling in the air.

“Because I don’t have a home for them yet,” I say. “And they’re happy here.”

Vik crouches down next to me, rubbing behind one of their ears. “They love you.”

“I love them too.”

Damir wraps his arms around me from behind, lifting me slightly off the ground. I squeal.

“I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs against my ear. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

Another surprise?

I wave at Kat and Vik as he pulls me toward the bike. “I’ve got some stuff to do these next few days, but I’ll be back.”

“Come for your birthday,” Kat says, hugging me.

Damir squeezes my hand. “I’ll bring her. Don’t worry.”

And then we’re gone, the night cold and bright behind us, the dogs still barking in the yard, and me… pressed against his back on the bike, wondering how long this little bit of peace will last.

After a few minutes, we pulled up outside his apartment, and he parked the bike in front of the building. As we walk toward the door, I spot a small box sitting on the doorstep.

“There’s a box here,” I say, squinting at it. “What are you planning?”

He shrugs, picks it up without a word, and reaches for my hand without letting go of the package. “Come inside first. You’re too curious, partner.”

The door clicks shut behind us. I finally let go of his hand and slipped off my jacket. He sets the box down on the coffee table, then disappears into the kitchen. A moment later, he returns with a water glass and fills the vase beside the box, where a fresh iris is already waiting.

It makes me smile.

The way he keeps buying irises for me. So I can see them, smell them... maybe love them again. He promised he’d help me fall for them, even after everything. And somehow, he’s doing it. It’s… sweet . I think this is what people call romantic.

He’s awful with plants, flowers especially.

But he still tries.

He even bought vinyls in secret. Thought he was being clever, but I saw the bag two days ago. Then it disappeared. Maybe he’s hiding it for my birthday, I don’t know.

Now he’s leaning against the table, hands tucked behind his back, grinning.

I narrow my eyes. “What is it?”

He smiles, shyly. The kind of smile that makes something tender ache inside me.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Good thing I have no virtues.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Oh, I know that.”

I smile without meaning to. I don’t think he realizes how easily he makes me smile, when it used to hurt so much. Smiling got me hit.

Life taught me, early on, that joy was dangerous.

I used to be a happy kid. Until I wasn’t.

He holds out his hand, palm up. I take it without hesitation. He pulls me closer, and the package is already in his other hand.

“Close your eyes for me, partner ,” he says, brushing his fingers gently under my chin.

“I’m not a kid, you know.”

He leans in, kisses me softly, and murmurs, “I said, close your eyes.”

So I do.

I hear the slow, careful sound of paper being peeled away. My heart thuds harder in my chest.

“Open them,” he says quietly.

And when I do, I freeze.

Inside the box is a red fox plush.

Sunny .

My lips twitch into a smile before he even speaks.

“You said you had one like this when you were little,” he says. “I found a similar one online. I thought it might make you happy.”

“You’re serious?”

He nods, not even a hint of a joke in his voice. “Dead serious.”

The tears build fast and hot behind my eyes. But I smile anyway, even though it feels stupid.

He presses the plush into my hands. “Happy almost-birthday.”

I hold it gently. It’s soft . Familiar. Like something from a time when I was just as small and fragile. I don’t say anything. My fingers move over the fabric like I’m afraid it’ll disappear.

Then, without thinking, I wrap my arms around him. The plush squishes between us. He laughs softly into my hair.

“You’re an idiot,” I whisper, my voice trembling as a tear escapes.

“I know.”

His breath is warm against my neck. My heart stumbles. I look up at him and before I can talk myself out of it, I kiss him.

His lips are warm against mine, soft, patient, like he’s afraid to push too far, too fast. I kiss him again, firmer this time, my fingers tightening around the plush still squished between us.

When I finally pull away, I laugh quietly, pressing my forehead to his.

“Thank you,” I whisper, voice thick with emotion. “For Sunny . For everything.”

His hands rest gently on my waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of my shirt. “You’re welcome,” he says, then raises a brow. “You sound really thankful.”

I nod, smiling up at him. “I am.”

“Like... really thankful?” he teases, leaning in until his nose brushes mine.

I give him a playful look. “ Mhm . So thankful.”

He hums low in his throat, eyes darkening a little. “Is that so?”

Without waiting for an answer, he tugs the plush away, and then I’m suddenly falling backward onto the couch. My knees hit the cushions and I laugh, like a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. He’s above me now, warm and heavy in a way that somehow grounds the spinning mess inside my head.

“You wanna show me how thankful you are, partner ?” His lips skim under my jaw, teasing and rough.

I want to say yes. But instead, I choke on it and say, “ Maybe .”

He grins and leans down, kisses tracing a slow fire along my throat, and my fingers twist into his hair without thinking, because when he’s here, the broken parts of me stop screaming for a second.

Then the belt. His belt. The way he pulls it off is slowly. My heart hammers like it’s trying to claw out of my chest.

He doesn’t break eye contact as he lays me back, his hands sure and careful on my back. The leather is cold and soft as it brushes my skin.

He wraps it around my neck.

Not tight. Not yet.

But it’s enough.

Enough to drag up memories I’ve shoved down so far they almost don’t hurt anymore.

The choking. The gasping. The helpless panic that made me want to disappear.

And here I am, letting him do this.

Because maybe this time it’s different.

Because maybe it’s him .

“You’re beautiful like this,” he says softly, like he’s telling me a secret no one else deserves to hear.

I want to laugh, because how fucked up is it that this makes me feel safe?