Page 45 of Eternal

He doesn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, I think he’ll leave it alone. But then, his breath brushes my neck, and his voice is lower, closer, “Try me.”

I shake my head, “You really need to stop trying to flirt with me,” I say.

Damir doesn’t respond right away, instead, he finishes drying my hair, his movements still gentle, almost reverent. And when he’s done, he pulls me up, guiding me carefully out of the bathroom, like he’s afraid of breaking something.

“No protests,” he says, his grip firm on my arm. “I’m not letting you walk to the couch by yourself.”

“I can walk just fine,” I protest, kicking my feet at the floor, trying to push myself away, but he pulls me back with an arm that’s too strong, too secure. I’m not ready for this kind of closeness, especially not when I’m feeling like a damn wreck.

“Your wound reopened, and you stitched it back yourself,” he says, his voice firm, eyes sharp. “You’re not in a position to ask me anything. You’re pale, and you’re still sweating from the pain, Voron.”

“I’m not in pain at all,” I mutter, but I let him guide me to the couch.

We both sit, and for a moment, it’s too quiet.

He doesn’t say anything, he focuses on my hair, his hands fumbling slightly as he tries to braid it.

The clumsy movements make me want to pull away, but I don’t.

I let him work, even if it feels really really strange.

The warmth of his hands, the way they hold my hair a little too tightly, a little too gently, it’s disorienting.

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me, despite everything. It’s so ridiculous .

“You’re terrible at this,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth and turns my head lightly to see him.

He grumbles something under his breath, but the frustration in his voice is softened by the way his hands work, slowly and carefully. It’s a mess, the braid uneven and barely holding together, but there’s something... almost adorable about how seriously he’s trying.

Something so strange about it, like he's trying to do something for me without thinking about the why.

It feels different, and I don’t know why, but I don’t want to push him away for once.

He smirks, looking at the disaster of a braid. “This was my first try.”

I smile, genuinely smile, but feel the warmth creeping into my cheeks. “Please. I don’t need another failure tonight.”

“No failure allowed. Got it.” He keeps working on the braid again, slower this time, like he's determined to get it right.

He tries again and again, and I can feel his frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Let me show you how it’s done,” I say suddenly. I turn around, meeting his surprised gaze.

“What?”

“Okay... let me. I'll show you,” I reply, my tone firm now. “Follow my fingers and you’ll get it.”

He steps back, letting me take over. I catch his reflective look, the focus on his face, and for a moment, he looks almost like a child learning something new.

I untangle his messy attempt, the strands slipping through my fingers and I bring all my hair at the front so I can show him clearly what I’m doing, before I begin braiding my hair the way I know it should be.

Don’t fall for this, Azra. You still need to be cautious.

Yeah, the little voice is right, even if he looks completely adorable, it doesn’t mean he’s harmless.

I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up, not when everything in me is screaming that this, he , is still dangerous.

I shift to sit on my knees, tugging Damir’s hand gently as I pull it toward my hair. “Here, let me show you now with your hands,” I say, my voice lighter than I intend.

It’s odd, this sudden need to teach him something as simple as this, but it feels... easy . Natural, even. He watches, his gaze intent, his fingers brushing through the strands in a way that makes me want to bite back a smile.

“Hold it like this,” I say softly, guiding his fingers to the right spot at the crown of my head, “and cross them over like this, one by one.” My hands move through my hair with ease, showing him the slow movements, and he’s watching me like he’s studying a map he needs to memorize.

His hands move awkwardly at first, fumbling with the strands, and I can’t help but laugh softly. “You’re supposed to pull gently, not like you’re trying to tear the hair out of my skull.”

“Hey, I’m trying,” he says, his tone teasing but with that edge of concentration. “I don’t pull hair like that... not unless the situation calls for it.”

“Gross!” I yell almost mimicking a throwing up face as I swat his hand away, but he laughs. He continues trying, taking his time, getting the feel of it, though it’s still clumsy. I let him work, guiding him when he falters, watching his brows furrowed in concentration.

Finally, after a few tries, he pulls back with a satisfied grunt. “There,” he says, inspecting his handiwork. It’s not perfect, loose and a little messy, but it’s better than I expected.

I turn to face him, my lips curving into a small smile. “It’s… not terrible. I guess you can have a passing grade.”

He looks at me, his eyes softening, and for a moment, I think I see something deeper there. “You always made it look effortless, doing that so quickly before training,” he says, his voice low, his gaze shifting from the braid to my face. “But, yeah… it's always pretty on you.”

I feel warmth flood my cheeks, more from his words than the heat around us. “Cut the crap,” I mutter, trying to downplay it. “You’ve got no chance.”

Damir’s lips curve into a smirk, his tone low and confident. “A man can dream, right?”

He’s too close, and for a second, I forget what we’re supposed to be doing, lost in this stupid activity at 4 in the morning. He picks up the braid, inspecting it again with that intense look of concentration.

“I’ll get it right next time,” he says, more to himself than to me. Then, he shifts, his tone turning teasing again. “If you teach me too much, I might start trying to braid your hair every night.”

“Try it and see what happens,” I reply, my voice still playful but with an undertone of warning. I muse stabbing someone’s neck with my hands.

He laughs a bit and replies. “Oh? I thought you liked the attention.”

“Not really,” I say, taking another bite of my ice cream.

We talk a bit more, and for a moment I feel sleepy.

I pull the blanket up over my shoulders, wrapping it around me, my skin tingling as I shift closer into the couch.

Damir is still sitting next to me, his eyes on something distant, but I feel his attention drift toward me, as if he’s noticed my change in energy.

I blink, the world starting to blur a little. I try to focus, but my mind is floating, like a cloud drifting away from my body.

When I glance at him, his face is a little too close, his gaze warm but curious. And I reply with a smile before looking up. I lie there, eyes tracing the ceiling, as I feel the exhaustion creeping in heavily this time, and the warmth of the blanket is starting to feel too soft on my body.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask, not bothering to look at him. My voice is thick, tired, but the words still come out cold in a way.

He’s there, though, watching me. I can feel it.

Damir’s voice is calm, but there’s something different about it tonight. Something more... delicate. “You look tired.”

I hum softly in response. “What, you’re a doctor now?”

“Not a doctor, simply noticing you’re not acting like a little brat for once.”

I shake my head, but the movement is slow, sluggish. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” I murmur, half-laughing but already feeling my eyelids drop.

Damir’s gaze softens a little. He leans closer, his voice lowering, like he's trying to be gentle with me. “Everything’s okay, partner?” he asks, his words brushing against the haze clouding my mind. His hand shifts, hovering for a second before he slowly caresses my cheek.

The proximity of him is too much for my exhausted brain, and I find myself leaning into his presence, my head resting between his shoulder and neck.

I can feel the heat of his skin, the comfort. For a second, everything feels too close, too warm. Too... real .

I mumble, voice thick with sleep. “You really know how to ruin a girl’s need to nap with all this... flirty eyes.”

He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates through his chest. “This is me being nice,” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not a trustworthy person.”

I try to smile, but it’s weak. “Don’t worry. I’m not that stupid enough to trust you.”

Damir’s lips twitch like he’s holding back a smile, but his fingers move again, resting lightly on my arm. “You look tired and thoughtful.”

I blink, trying to stay awake, but my body’s having none of it. “I’m tired, yes,” I mutter, my words slurring a little. “And… overthinking .”

He tilts his head slightly, a touch of amusement in his voice. “What are you overthinking? Couldn’t be about me, right?”

“No, definitely not about you,” I reply, a shy laugh escaping as I shift closer, my head unconsciously leaning toward his shoulder. “Just stupid, irritating and useless stuff… Actually , it could’ve been you.”

His smile fades, a touch of concern creeping into his voice as he shifts, pulling me closer. “Yeah, well, let's forget about what you said at the end. But I’ll need details, partner ,” he says, his shoulder solid against my cheek, his hand still gently brushing through my hair.

“ God… I wouldn’t even know how to explain it.”

He’s still staring at me, and I’m too tired to care.

“Do you believe in any of that God stuff?”

The question catches me off guard.