Zavien
Never regret anything that made you smile
The discomfort was forgotten, understanding and sympathy taking its place as he watched her talk. He didn't cut in or interrupt, letting her share what was on her mind without the disrespect of his interjection. And yet she said it all with a calm nonchalance that made his heart ache. Time had obviously dulled whatever emotions might have once been there, but there was something else, a sadness that he couldn't place, one that went deeper than missed breakfasts.
His lips tightened just enough to show his dislike, hoping she didn't think someone making her a meal was the epitome of 'care.' "I'm sorry you haven't felt that more. Everyone deserves to be cared for." Whether it was a friend, family, lover, or loved one of another kind, it broke his heart to think Soh hadn't experienced that. How had she learned to give what she'd received so little of?
Zavien propped his elbows on the counter, tilting his head as he shared a truth of his own. "My mom used to cook me breakfast when she got home from work." A knowing, secret smile spirited across his face, followed by a breath of laughter. "She was the worst cook." Probably one of the many reasons for his own culinary skills.
His smile softened like the faint rays of dying sunlight, his voice following suit as he asked gently,"How old were you? When you lost your parents?"
His lips tightened just enough to show his dislike, hoping she didn't think someone making her a meal was the epitome of 'care.' "I'm sorry you haven't felt that more. Everyone deserves to be cared for." Whether it was a friend, family, lover, or loved one of another kind, it broke his heart to think Soh hadn't experienced that. How had she learned to give what she'd received so little of?
Zavien propped his elbows on the counter, tilting his head as he shared a truth of his own. "My mom used to cook me breakfast when she got home from work." A knowing, secret smile spirited across his face, followed by a breath of laughter. "She was the worst cook." Probably one of the many reasons for his own culinary skills.
His smile softened like the faint rays of dying sunlight, his voice following suit as he asked gently,"How old were you? When you lost your parents?"
