Aven blinked, expression cracking for the tiniest of moments before he settled for a resigned look. “Will it help?”
I could hear the ‘you’ at the end of his sentence without him even breathing it. Aven seemed to know more about my intentions then what he gave away, but he continued to help me anyway. I wondered, sometimes, whether Aven would be able to forgive me when my secrets were revealed. He always looked so calm, and unlike most of the people in the house, lacked the bitter aftertaste that clung to them when they mentioned their past. Would I become the memory that would turn that gentle smile into a sneer? The thought haunted me more than I allowed myself to realize.
The junk yard around us faded, image by image, object by object, until all that was left is what was real.
“Yes.”
