Because I Am Used to Them

Irene had quickly moved to her room to freshen up.

Ilyan was beginning to slightly regret staying back. He was growing a little uncomfortable being at someone's place at that hour of time, especially when that someone did not belong to his family but it was a fleeting moment. He let go of that thought far too quickly than usual when his eyes fell upon Melissa who was preparing coffee in the kitchen.

Their kitchen was separated from the hall with a half partition which made it visible for people sitting in the Hall.

It was almost 8 p.m. and the weather was acquiring a ghastly monstrous form. Even with the doors and windows of their home tightly shut, the sound of winds speedily slapping the window was hinting toward destruction.

"Here," Melissa called Ilyan as she reached in the Hall, forwarding the mug of coffee to him.

Curling his fingers around the mug-handle, he was quick to take it from her hand. As Melissa took a seat across him, there began their conversation.

Melissa was pleasantly welcoming toward Ilyan. "I really appreciate your help. She did tell me that you were kind and generous."

Ilyan returned her a smile as he silently acknowledged the gratitude Melissa was expressing.

"So, what do you do?" Melissa tried to keep the conversation going when she found that Ilyan was not able to do that.

"Um, I work. I do quite some things simultaneously. It's going good so far," he replied with an incredible satisfaction reflected by the glow on his face.

"Ah, that's nice," Melissa bobbed her head, "I am glad to hear that it's going good for you. So, how did you two stumble upon each other again?"

Ilyan bit back his smile as his mind went back to the day when he had met Irene and the entire pastry conversation that had happened.

"I had promised to treat him with pastries for helping me out," Irene spoke while descending the stairs.

"Oh, that's lovely. Did you like them? She is amazing at making them." Melissa shifted her gaze back to Ilyan, complimenting Irene's baking skills.

"Oh, I loved them," Ilyan admitted, not taking a moment longer to answer.

Irene laughed as she reached the couch and got herself comfortable over there. "You like everything that I make, Angel."

"That I do but that's also because you ARE amazing, right, Ilyan?"

"Of course." He supported with a thumbs up, accompanied by a bright smile. As he took a sip of the coffee, he complimented Melissa for the same.

Irene lifted her mug kept on the brown wooden teapoy at the front. Meanwhile, the silence was interrupted by the ring of Melissa's phone. Once she looked at the caller ID, she couldn't help but let out an exhausted sigh. "I have to take this."

"You are over-working again?" Irene frowned as she put the mug aside, concentrating on Melissa.

Visibly upset Irene hated that it hadn't been even an hour since Melissa had returned and she had to make herself available for the work again.

Melissa's working schedule had been awfully messed up for the past fifteen days. And just when Irene felt that it was easing up on her since the last couple of days, that call told her otherwise.

"Sorry. Work calls." Melissa shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"Okay." Irene blinked her sad eyes.

"Dinner?" Melissa knew that the call was going to eat a lot of her time and she couldn't predict how much.

"I will prepare," Irene assured but Melissa was not sure. She pointed at Irene's feet and asked how she was going to be able to do that.

"I am fine, Angel. It's much better already and if I could walk up to my room and come down, then I can definitely make dinner. Don't worry."

Melissa gave a quick side-hug to Irene before she walked toward her room, answering the call.

Irene checked the time once to be sure of when she was supposed to get up to cook the meal. She had got quite a lot of time because they usually ate around 11 p.m.

As she remembered that she was not alone, she instantly looked at the front. Ilyan was quietly sipping on to his coffee, without making slightest of a sound that could disturb her.

But she had got questions to ask. "Why would you do that?"

"Why would you do that?" He repeated her question, with calm composure.

Knowing that he was referring to her lie, she said, "I didn't want her to worry."

"I figured out that it was the reason so I just did my bit that I could," he voiced casually as if it was the most natural and obvious thing.

Irene's furrowed brows did not seem to agree with his unspoken thoughts but she chose not to express it.

She felt a sudden urge to thank him for being thoughtful for yet another time but she suppressed it. Hadn't she thanked him enough for the day? It was beginning to get borderline weird.

'Just drink your coffee.' She reminded herself and just as she picked up her mug, the entire place fell into darkness and the mug in her hand crashed on the ground as the loss of light startled her.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

She heard his concerned voice but couldn't bring herself to respond. She passionately disliked darkness. It terrified her. Every time. She shut her eyes, but the uneasiness just increased. Damn it. Why did she have to leave her phone in her room to get it charged?

"Irene?" He called for her again while roughly shoving his hands in his pockets. Once he got his hands on what he was looking for, he turned on the flashlight and held it to the front.

In the small light of his phone, he found her sitting frozen in her place with closed eyes. As he stared at the traces of fear on her face, he couldn't help but reach out to her side.

Bending on his one knee, he placed his hand on hers. "Hey, it's okay," he whispered, softly to her.

His touch seemed to alarm her because her eyes were snapped open right at the same moment, revealing the myriad of emotions in them to him. The anxiety that he witnessed sharply twisted something in his heart.

She fought to wear an expression that could make her look okay but the struggle it demanded did not go unnoticed by him.

Her hand trembled under his and he couldn't help but feel bad. "Are you afraid of the dark?"

She was slowly trying to get a grip on herself but once the question was spoken, she got that grip. "I am afraid of a lot of things and you can let go of my hand because I am used to them."