Fighting hearts

One

Glassville Pines, 1901

"It could be worse," Evie said, dabbing a piece of linen cloth on the small but still-pouring wound just below Roth's eyebrow. "I think you need about three stitches."

"Only three? That's not too bad," Roth replied.

If Evie knew the orc let himself get wounded just because he wanted to feel those soft little hands on his skin, she would surely think he was a pathetic man. But it was the truth. He'd taken a few punches on purpose.

Roth worked as a fighter in the pits, a huge arena in the valley, where orcs fought and rich men could place their bets on every match. Roth was the top fighter, and he had been for months. Nobody was able to hurt him, unless he let them, which he sometimes did. He pretended it was for a good show, but the truth was that he did it to see her.

Evie didn't seem to be impressed with his victories, though. She was a nurse. She was always solely focused on her job: patching up the injured fighters.

"Lie on the table, please," Evie said when she was done cleaning the wound. "I'll prepare to stitch you up."

"Yes, Miss," he replied, gazing back into her eyes.

Oh, those eyes.

Those kind eyes were Roth's favorite. They were big and blue like forget-me-nots, the pupils circled with honey. Actually, everything about Evie was his favorite. He had been in love with this woman for months now. In love with those eyes and her strawberry blond hair, which was often covered by her white nurse's cap. And her cute little nose and those rosy lips. They looked so soft. He wondered how they would feel against his lips. He wondered about such things a lot. From morning to afternoon.

Roth wanted her. But he couldn't say that. Because what if she rejected him?

This wasn't the first time that he was in love. He had loved before. It was years ago that someone had rejected him, and it was the worst kind of feeling. Way worse than having one's eyebrow busted open, and he swore he never wanted to feel like that again.

It wasn't like he hadn't tried anything. He'd tried. He'd tried to flirt with her more than once, but she didn't seem to recognize his advances. Then again, maybe she did get it. She probably just didn't want to flirt back because she found him an uninteresting, dumb orc, who wasn't good for anything but fighting.

Sometimes, however, it felt like there was something there between her and him. A spark. A connection. Whatever it was, it was enough for Roth to feel dizzy.

Other times, he could curse himself for hoping for something that could never be. He was an orc, after all. The chance she was interested in him was small, although orcs and humans sometimes found happiness together. It just didn't happen often. Species rather stayed with their own.

"Make sure I can keep this handsome face," Roth said, watching how Evie displayed her tools on the small table next to him.

"I will. But you should be more careful," she answered. "I know you have to take a few blows for show, but perhaps you shouldn't let them punch you in the face, to prevent injuries like these."

"You don't like having me as your patient?"

"I do. I like your company," she answered, sitting down next to him. She bowed over him. "Of course, I do. I would just rather not see you in pain."

The orc chuckled, right as she was about to start.

"Be still!" Evie was stern. She pulled the wound together, ready to start stitching.

"I'm sorry." He lay motionless. "I think it's funny that you think a mere scratch causes me pain. And... I like that you like my company." He closed his eyes right before he felt the first pinch of the needle, piercing through his flesh.