Theea
they may say you're too small, you're too young
to do it all, but you're a giant on the inside
to do it all, but you're a giant on the inside
His promise to go with me to King’s End slips into my bones like heat, and I take a full breath for what feels like the first time tonight. I’ve never kept a friend long enough to make real plans—future-tense always felt like a language I wasn’t allowed to speak. But going with him? Gods, that sounds like the greatest thing I could say yes to.
The cub—tiny menace—reaches up and hooks my hair again with claws that already feel like talons. I let out the smallest laugh, careful not to tug at the stitches, and Damien reaches to untangle me. He doesn’t drop my hair right away. He feels it between his fingers, thoughtful, like he’s considering something new. When he lays it back over my shoulder, he lingers for a heartbeat—just long enough for my heart to stumble at the soft, oddly intimate shape of it.
He repeats the name back. Aria. He looks down at the cub, checking for her approval, and when he looks back at me and keeps looking, my smile tilts into something quieter. Curious, a little bewildered by my own body—why my face feels hot, why my pulse trips. He breaks whatever that is by looking away, his voice turning matter-of-fact as he confirms the name, and the moment folds itself neatly shut.
Then he lets go of my hand.
He rises, careful with the blanket, careful with Aria, and the space where his warmth was is suddenly cold. The shift in him—soft to blunt—makes something in my chest cinch tight. I tip my face up to him, brows knitting at the change in tone, and try to smooth it over with a threadbare joke. “I was warm, you know.”
I look at the fire for a moment, and then glance up again, aiming for neutral and landing somewhere near it. “Where will you sleep?” Neutral isn’t natural for me, though, so I put on a crooked smile instead. “Tell me you brought a second bedroll and a blanket, because I’m not letting you sleep on cold stone.”
I fuss the blanket around Aria and me, pretending not to notice the empty space where his shoulder used to be. The fire pops, the wind hums low at the mouth of the cave, and the warmth doesn’t quite reach the place that just went cold.
The cub—tiny menace—reaches up and hooks my hair again with claws that already feel like talons. I let out the smallest laugh, careful not to tug at the stitches, and Damien reaches to untangle me. He doesn’t drop my hair right away. He feels it between his fingers, thoughtful, like he’s considering something new. When he lays it back over my shoulder, he lingers for a heartbeat—just long enough for my heart to stumble at the soft, oddly intimate shape of it.
He repeats the name back. Aria. He looks down at the cub, checking for her approval, and when he looks back at me and keeps looking, my smile tilts into something quieter. Curious, a little bewildered by my own body—why my face feels hot, why my pulse trips. He breaks whatever that is by looking away, his voice turning matter-of-fact as he confirms the name, and the moment folds itself neatly shut.
Then he lets go of my hand.
He rises, careful with the blanket, careful with Aria, and the space where his warmth was is suddenly cold. The shift in him—soft to blunt—makes something in my chest cinch tight. I tip my face up to him, brows knitting at the change in tone, and try to smooth it over with a threadbare joke. “I was warm, you know.”
I look at the fire for a moment, and then glance up again, aiming for neutral and landing somewhere near it. “Where will you sleep?” Neutral isn’t natural for me, though, so I put on a crooked smile instead. “Tell me you brought a second bedroll and a blanket, because I’m not letting you sleep on cold stone.”
I fuss the blanket around Aria and me, pretending not to notice the empty space where his shoulder used to be. The fire pops, the wind hums low at the mouth of the cave, and the warmth doesn’t quite reach the place that just went cold.
