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Kimberly’s Upper East Side apartment was deathly silent, if not for the soft sound of her own breathing. Even the usually noisy streets of New York seemed to be asleep that Sunday night.
To the redhead, it just all seemed eery.
If it were not for the slow and steady rise and fall of Damien's chest underneath her head, she might have wondered if he was even still alive. She could not tell if he was sleeping or not, and after the night they had had, after all the fighting and screaming, she would not blame him for wanting some rest, but she could not bring herself to turn off her thoughts just yet.
Instead of sleeping, something she also craved dearly, the young woman lay awake, staring at the ceiling and relishing in the feeling of his hot skin pressed against hers and his arms wrapped around her naked torso beneath the duvet.
It was strange to think how close they came to not being able to enjoy that simple pleasure ever again, and, in all honesty, the threat of loss endeared her heart to it. To him.
Kimberly and Damien had been close friends for years now, but it had not been long since they after finally throwed caution to the wind and allowing themselves to have more than platonic feelings for one another.
To avoid being honest with their desires by saying they would jeopardize their close friendship with one another and with Nadia by getting involved with one another had been a poor excuse to begin with. She knew that now. She did not know why she would ever let herself believe it.
Well, there were some reasons, some justifications, even if bad ones. Perhaps the woman had been afraid. She trusted Damien, but part of her was so scared of losing him, and his intrapersonal relationship philosophy coupled with his atrocious actions when she had considered trying the dating services of Eros made her worry even more than she already did. That had been a long time ago, but who was to say it could not happen again?
Besides, there was the Interpol stuff. Espionage, international crime syndicates, weeks away from home without so much of a phone call. Long-distance was not much her cup of tea, she tried once and it failed miserably, and that was just a her in New York, him in Washington type of scenario. Damien spent more time in the Amazonian jungle than in a subway this month.
Honestly, she was just worried. Concerned. Everything in this situation made her feel insecure and afraid, and she does not know how else she can deal with it all, so she blew up. Not her wisest move, true.
"Kimberly?" The husky sound of Damien's voice jolted her from her train of thought and she tilted her head to peer up at him, her green eyes dilating to make out the soft contours of his face in the darkness.
She reached up with one hand, the hand that had been previously resting over Damien's exposed chest, to rub her eyes briefly before responding. She was not very surprised that he was still awake.
"Yeah?" The redhead responded in a thin whisper.
"Define love." He demanded, also demure and quiet.
The question caught her off guard and she found herself watching him, confused, for several seconds as she tried to understand just what he was asking her. She knew his stance on love. She disagreed with it, but she knew.
Simply put, Damien did not think it existed. He acknowledged that he harboured strong, indescribable feelings for her, yes, but he believed the concept of "love" went against human nature. That people in love were just selfish and cruel, destroying the world around them to pursue a feeling of ecstasy and control.
He did not love, he cared. He cared for his sisters, he cared for his parents, he cared for Kimberly. Nothing more, nothing less.
It was not as if Kimberly blames him for being a sceptic, either, as experience had proven more than once that he could be right, but she did not want to accept it, she wanted to have hope. If anything, she knew that she would not destroy Damien, and she was pretty sure he would not do her, either.
However, the impasse remained, so she had decided never to push him to tell her he loved her, and he had never complained whenever she told him she loved him. It was as if they had reached a mutual, if silent, agreement.
Nevertheless, she answered him after another minute of thought.
"Love... It is hard to explain. It's when you... You care so much about someone that you'd do anything for them, to make them happy, no matter what the cost to you. It's... Learning the little things about a person and relishing in them. Like how I know Nadia’s favourite kind of ice cream for each occasion... And I know all your little nervous quirks."
She could not help but smile as she reached the end of her description. It was true. She had picked up on so many of Damien's little habits and rituals over the time that they had known each other, and she loved those things about him.
A few minutes of silence stretched between them and for a while, Kimberly wondered if she had either upset him or if he had simply fallen asleep. Then, his voice broke the silence one last time.
"I love you, Kimberly."
Her cheeks flushed red in the darkness but she smiled even wider. Perhaps his heart also grew fonder, or perhaps, and that is what she would be taking out of the situation, she managed to make her point across, even if just a little better, so Damien could reconsider his stance.
Placing a chaste kiss on the base of his left collarbone, she whispered back just loud enough for him to hear, "I love you, too, Damien."