The Witch's Toy ✔

8: an inquiry on disease

I'd planned on avoiding Raphael in the morning by getting up an hour earlier than usual and leaving for school without rummaging around the kitchen for breakfast, but it seemed like that wasn't going to happen.

When I opened my eyes, slowly adjusting to my dimmed room, I nearly had a heart attack. I could see crimson eyes peering at me from the darkness, but in my half-frightened and half-groggy state, I didn't have the mind to piece together who exactly it was. I immediately thought it was another demon, or worse — a ghost who had wandered inside the house. The last thing I wanted was some sort of a haunting. I'd never been able to feel safe within the boundaries of my own home.

Forcing down a scream, I scrambled back, hitting the wooden headboard of my bed as fingers fumbled with the lamp switch beside me. When I finally managed to pull it, letting the yellow glare of artificial light filter into the room, my short burst of fear turned to confusion. Then anger.

Raphael smiled at me from his position, head propped up by a hand. Amusement sparked in his eyes. "Good morning, darling."

"What is wrong with you?" I snarled, moving the push my covers back and slide off my bed. Way to put me in a bad mood so early in the day.

"What? I can't even say a simple 'good morning' to you now?" His voice trembled. He was obviously trying not to laugh.

"I don't think someone I just met a few days ago should be lying in the same bed I sleep on," I said, taking a fresh set of clothes out of my closet. I laid them on my bed, smoothing out the creases of my skirt and blouse. "I can see otherworldly beings like ghosts and demons, so these things really scare me, Raphael." I paused, then added, "you'd think that by now, I'd be used to seeing them, but that's not the case."

"I'm hurt, darling." He sat up, crossing his long legs together. Propping his elbows up on them, he rested his chin on his hands, pouting. "Really, I thought you would have already recovered your memories of me."

"Well, I haven't."

He considered this for a few seconds. Something lit up his face as he smiled slowly at me. "And, you shouldn't be so sensitive at me for being in your bed. You've already made your move on me, remember?"

I blushed, heat crawling up my face and reddening my cheeks. This was exactly why I didn't want to face him. I knew he'd bring up what had happened yesterday to embarrass me. "That was to save you from being impaled!"

He raised his brows. "Darling, you didn't have to kiss me."

My face flushed even redder. I swore my cheeks were actually on fire. "I hugged you! Like a genuine, actual hug that required a bunch of going into personal space and touching. And, well, that didn't work, so I figured that something more... more intimate was needed."

"But why the personal contact?"

"Because, oh I don't know, you're generally a super touchy person and because it's a cliché that somehow works, and... And..." I trailed off, biting my bottom lip. I wasn't going to tell him I did it partly out of the fear that I might lose him just like how I lost almost everyone I ever cared about in my life. It was cheesy, but it was true. I just... didn't want him to know. He'd tease me even more about it.

Still in my thoughts, I hadn't realized it when he'd gotten off my bed and started towards me. By the time I decided to look up, opening my mouth to start where I'd trailed off on, he pulled me to him. I momentarily blanked, wondering where to put my own arms, but finally returned his embrace. I let myself sink into him.

"In any case, darling, thank you for not impaling me. I like being alive," he said, a smile in his voice. He pulled away. "Get dressed and come have breakfast. I'll be waiting."