Page 92 of Eternal
What did the world do to you, Voron?
“You really think liking someone is only about a price?” I pressed, trying to understand her.
She shrugged again, “I used to,” she said quietly. “Then I figured out some people simply love being liked. That’s not the same.” Another bite, then, barely above a whisper, “The regret, the anger... it wasn’t worth my affection.”
How does someone carry that much pain and still look detached?
I don’t even think she realizes how much it still lives in her. Or maybe she does, and that’s the worst part. No one gets that kind of quiet without bleeding for it first.
“They were dumb for hurting you, partner.”
A laugh followed, cold, short, nothing special. But it reached her eyes. For a moment, the detachment slipped. “Probably.”
I watched her as she ate slowly, her gaze drifting between the half-finished food and the city lights.
She had this way of being there, but not really. Like some part of her had never left wherever she’d last been hurt.
How interesting is she?
“You look pretty cute when you eat,” I said, almost without thinking.
She looked up at me, pretty eyes narrowing slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was irritation or amusement. Either way, she nudged me with her shoulder before pushing me away with her hand.
“Don’t make me regret letting you sit here,” she said, shaking her head, but there was a softness in her voice that wasn’t lost on me.
I leaned back, smiling. “I’m just saying.”
She snorted. “You need to stop, Damir.”
I loved the way she said my name. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it. So long I almost forgot it.
I barely glanced at her, the corner of my mouth twitching. “You’re cute. Don’t make me say it again.”
Then I took a bite of my burrito, eyes still on the city.
We’re finally talking without the usual intense cautiousness. Is she letting me in? I hope so.
“You really don’t smile much,” I said, setting my burrito down. Why the hell am I asking? I don’t even know anymore. At this point, I’m not trying to understand anything about how I act around her. She’s an anomaly. And I’m a victim of it. “Is that how it always is?”
She shrugged, not looking at me. “You don’t smile much either. What’s there to smile about?”
I wasn’t expecting that. I could guess some reasons, but... maybe it’s better not to ask. Not yet at least.
“True,” I said, finishing the last bite of my burrito. “But you could always talk to your partner about it.”
She shifted; her body still angled away from me. “I don’t do that.”
I raised an eyebrow, picking up on the shift in her tone. “Why not?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted out toward the city, then she sighed. “When you lose everything, there’s nothing left to care about. Not even yourself. Smiling doesn’t change anything. I can smile, but it won’t make me a better person, or in a better mood. So why bother?”
It was the first time she’d said anything like that. Her voice was so matter of fact, but there was something raw underneath it, something she was trying not to show. I knew better than to push too hard, but I didn’t let it slide.
“I get that,” I said, my voice low. “Makes it easier to keep people at a distance.”
She glanced at me then, and I could almost see the calculation in her eyes, as if deciding whether or not to say more. She didn’t.
“You’re not wrong,” she said after a beat, sounding almost resigned.
