Page 67 of Eternal
AZRA
“Christmas Lights” by Coldplay
Present
I t’s cold these days.
I’ve never been scared of winter, just… wary of it. I’ve always hated December.
Maybe because I could hear people celebrating outside while I was locked in a room inside.
Maybe because it never felt like it belonged to me.
But this year is different, still cold, still strange. But different.
I’m on the bench again, waiting. I didn’t ask him to come tonight, I’ve been trying to give us space, or maybe trying to give myself space.
It doesn’t work. He always shows up anyway, and when he smiles, I always end up smiling back.
The cold air catches in my lungs as I exhale, my breath fogging the night like a ghost drifting away.
For a moment, I’m not on the bench anymore. I’m back in that loneliness, in that room I never truly left.
The thin walls, the window from where I could hear laughter, children playing, families celebrating, lovingly.
But my house wasn’t like that, it was always quiet.
I remember thinking about Mischka and Notch because I knew how much they hated the cold.
My dogs, I missed them a lot back then, I was secretly hoping that Vik had found some way to keep them warm.
It was strange, though. That feeling in my bones, like something was off.
Not with them, but with me. Like the way I was surviving wasn’t really living anymore.
I had this stupid habit of pressing my cheek against the cold and small glass, wishing I could disappear, or be anywhere but there.
Open your eyes, Azra. Open them, you’re not there anymore.
I blink, forcing myself back to the present. The bench creaks beneath me and the streetlamp as I pull my coat tighter.
My thoughts drift to the files I found last week, reports on a girl who disappeared. No family, no witnesses, no real leads.
It’s the kind of case the world quickly forgets, like the child never existed.
But I know it could help to follow this girl’s traces because the last step, the cleansing one was missing from my board.
It’s complicated, and fucking hard . Focusing on my mission when all I want to do is stay here and never think about it again.
But maybe it means something, maybe it means I’m doing more than just surviving.
The familiar rumble of a bike engine comes closer. I’d recognize that bike everywhere.
My heart picks up immediately.
Stop being so stupid.
But the smile I feel on my lips is screaming that it’s not stupid. Being excited to see him again. Creating memories with someone who makes them all happy.
It can’t be stupid.
He parks behind me, helmet tucked under his arm, wearing that warm oversized sweatshirt I love to steal after our training sessions, layered under his jacket. There’s a paper bag in one hand and something else, something hidden.
“Close your eyes, partner,” he calls, already grinning.
“You’re late, idiot.”
He laughs and comes closer to me. “So impatient. It’s Christmas!”
I shut my eyes, and feel his hands brushing through my hair, light and careful. Then something soft and a little too big settles on top of my head.
“Fuck, that’s perfect,” he murmurs, adjusting it. “Okay, open those pretty eyes for me.”
I open them slowly, and his phone is already in front of me. A flash, then he grins like a kid caught doing something he loves.
He flips the screen to me, all proud, and what a surprise. Me , in a giant red Santa hat, looking half-annoyed, half-caught off guard.
“First the cat ears on Halloween, now this?” I sigh, shaking my head. “Are you making this a thing?”
“Absolutely,” he says with a lazy smile. “It’s my emotional support tradition from now on.”
He’s already pulling containers from the bag, miso soup, sushi rolls, and everything I love.
We eat quietly, the cold air making the warm broth taste even better.
He glances at me mid-bite, eyes soft.
“Your nose is all red.”
I glare playfully. “Your cheek’s gonna be red too if you keep flirting.”
He laughs, the kind of laugh that shakes his whole body. “No violence tonight. Oh yeah, also… " He reaches into his jacket pocket this time slower, like he’s unsure.
And I’m curious…
“I, uh… found this,” he says. “Thought of you.”
He pulls out a thin cardboard square, wrapped in a plastic sleeve, it’s … it’s a vinyl. My heart stutters before I even see the cover.
It’s OK Computer.
It’s all blue . One of my favorites…
“You remembered,” I say, softer than I meant to.
He did … he remembered.
“You love this group,” he replies. “I liked listening to it with you last time.”
I don’t respond, I just run my fingers over the corner of the sleeve. He doesn’t ask if I have a record player, he doesn’t ask if I’ll listen to it tonight.
He just hands it to me.
“I... I don’t have any players on me now…” I awkwardly.
That makes him smile.
He takes his phone out and searches for something on it. “You like sad music, right?” before hitting play. A few seconds later, a song comes up, and my smile is instant.
“Proud of me?” He asks as he leans closer.
“You’re ruining this song…”
He laughs, pulling me gently against his side, his arm wraps around my shoulder, warm. It’s... so warm…
I lean in without thinking.
The city flickers below us, bright and too far away, the music plays, and suddenly I’m not here, I’m there. In the one place, the one moment, where I wasn’t just surviving.
When the last notes fade out, he stays close, not moving away.
Pulling a small pack from his pocket, he fishes out a cigarette and lights it, then nudges the pack toward me.
I take one without thinking, and soon we’re sitting side by side, smoking silently, it’s calming, relaxing, and fresh. My mind stops thinking. He reaches out, fingers brushing the edge of my Santa hat, gently twisting the fabric.
“I’ve been missing you,” he says softly, voice low enough that it almost sounds like a confession.
I shrug, trying to keep my expression neutral. “You’re always busy.”
“Yeah,” he admits, “but still.”
“You kinda abandoned me.”
Who is even speaking…
We can’t… we can’t be feeling? We’re not allowed to, I am not allowed to, he isn’t too…
“I’d never. Told you, I’m just a call away.” He takes a slow drag, eyes never leaving mine. After a long pause, his breath brushes my ear as he whispers: “Merry Christmas, partner .”
And just like that, December feels a little less cold.
“Merry Christmas, Damir .”