Sour Candy | T. Drake ✔

[48] Progress

Tim woke up in the same position he had drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in a dozen blankets and mufflers. His eyes flickered toward the clock that was striking way past midnight.

He disentangled himself from the bundle of blankets and got off from the couch as he ran a hand through his damp hair, shaking his head to dry it off.

He felt terrible about the way he had shut Dora out even though she had just wanted to help him; her tired and concerned features swam in his vision again and guilt stabbed through his heart.

Why do you always do and say things that require an apology afterward? Her words rang in his ears and he knew she was absolutely right.

Tim lost control over himself when he was troubled to such an extent and though it happened very rarely as he managed to keep himself composed usually, still it was not a good thing. And in those times when he was unstable, he would do or say something hurtful towards the people he held dear and it would cause a rift between them.

As far as Dora was concerned, he couldn't bear to cause a rift between her and himself because they had already been through too much.

He stepped out of the room, finding the manor awfully silent as he went downstairs. His head was throbbing so he decided to make a cup of coffee before going to Dora. He didn't even know whether she was still at the manor or if she had gone back home.

Tim didn't even bother to switch on the lights as everything seemed quite clear to him even in the dark and he took out the coffee jar and his thermos. He knew a cup of coffee could never be enough for him so he resorted to making a full thermos instead.

Not long had passed when the light switched on and someone stepped in but Tim either didn't notice that or chose to ignore it.

But when he turned around, he got a shock to see blue eyes so unnervingly like his own that it seemed as if he was looking into a mirror. The only difference was the flecks of green dancing within those irises.

He took in a deep breath to compose himself, placing the thermos back on the counter, his hands resting on the marble countertop as he looked at the little girl in front of him.

She was silent, her wide eyes studying him with what seemed like a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Baba," she spoke up at last and he stiffened at the word but didn't move from his spot, "are you alright?"

"Yes," he replied, "why do you ask?" She stared at him blankly so he spoke in Arabic, "I understand your language. You don't have to speak English with me if it's hard for you."

A wave of relief washed over her because it was quite hard for her to communicate in English and as far as she knew only Damian could understand Arabic. But finding that her father was fluent in the language too made her realize that there was one more person she could freely talk to.

If he wanted to talk to her, that is.

"Dora said you were not well," she spoke up, the brokenness from her word gone as she was using her native tongue, "I wanted to know if you're okay now or not."

He chose not to reply to that, instead, he asked, "and where's Dora?"

"In my room."

"Can you take me to her?"

She nodded her head, readily agreeing to his request.

Tim couldn't overlook the eagerness in her demeanor to do anything he asked of her and he was suddenly reminded of his own self; of how he put others before him and would go to hell and back for the people he loved.