Damien
He didn’t say anything right away. He just watched her, arms still folded, the fire throwing long, restless light across her face. The honesty in what she said hit him harder than any cough or sneeze could have. He knew that kind of loneliness — the kind that lingered even when you had a roof and warmth and something to do with your hands.
Aria’s purr filled the space between them, a steady yet soft rumble, and Damien let it fill the silence a few seconds longer before he finally spoke.
“Doesn’t sound like rambling to me,” he said quietly. “Sounds like you’ve been chewing on that for a while.”
He pushed away from the window frame, stepping closer to the fire. The heat hit him across the front, warm enough to pull the stiffness from his jaw. “Truth is, bein’ alone’s a lot harder than people think. Everyone talks about independence like it’s some kind of prize, but they don’t tell you how damn loud the quiet gets once you’ve got it.” His tone stayed matter-of-fact, like he was talking about weather or timber yields, but something under it carried weight.
He crouched by the stove again, nudging one of the embers with the poker more to have something to do with his hands than any real need. “Your dad’s probably just scared to see you sick or hurting. Parents are like that, from what I hear.” He glanced back over his shoulder, mouth pulling into a faint, wry line. “But you’ve built a good life here. You’ve got work, your place, a fire that stays lit. That’s more than most ever manage.”
He set the poker aside, straightened, and faced her fully. “You don’t suck at being alone, Theea. You just don’t like it. There’s a difference.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward into the ghost of a smile. “And that’s not a weakness. Means you still got some part of you that wants to reach for people instead of shutting them out... Don’t lose that.”
Then, with a slow exhale, he tipped his chin toward the kitchen. “Now. You feeling up to helping me make some soup? And by that, I mean you can sit at the counter and keep me company while I cut vegetables.” He smiled at her, a look that seemed to silently ask please?, before strolling back into the kitchen.
Aria’s purr filled the space between them, a steady yet soft rumble, and Damien let it fill the silence a few seconds longer before he finally spoke.
“Doesn’t sound like rambling to me,” he said quietly. “Sounds like you’ve been chewing on that for a while.”
He pushed away from the window frame, stepping closer to the fire. The heat hit him across the front, warm enough to pull the stiffness from his jaw. “Truth is, bein’ alone’s a lot harder than people think. Everyone talks about independence like it’s some kind of prize, but they don’t tell you how damn loud the quiet gets once you’ve got it.” His tone stayed matter-of-fact, like he was talking about weather or timber yields, but something under it carried weight.
He crouched by the stove again, nudging one of the embers with the poker more to have something to do with his hands than any real need. “Your dad’s probably just scared to see you sick or hurting. Parents are like that, from what I hear.” He glanced back over his shoulder, mouth pulling into a faint, wry line. “But you’ve built a good life here. You’ve got work, your place, a fire that stays lit. That’s more than most ever manage.”
He set the poker aside, straightened, and faced her fully. “You don’t suck at being alone, Theea. You just don’t like it. There’s a difference.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward into the ghost of a smile. “And that’s not a weakness. Means you still got some part of you that wants to reach for people instead of shutting them out... Don’t lose that.”
Then, with a slow exhale, he tipped his chin toward the kitchen. “Now. You feeling up to helping me make some soup? And by that, I mean you can sit at the counter and keep me company while I cut vegetables.” He smiled at her, a look that seemed to silently ask please?, before strolling back into the kitchen.
i want you by my side
so i can never feel alone again
so i can never feel alone again
