NIRELLE - Chapter 54: Chapter 54

I step into the living room and find the place almost too cosy. Lucien seems to have outdone himself with the preparation. The room was dimly lit, the kind you'd find in a theatre. He had dropped all the wall-length curtains and switched off all the lights. The only sources of light in the room were the television, moving pictures and a lamp on the floor. I glance around with my fingers gripping the edge of the sweatpants I had put on.
Whoever built my closet was a well-rounded person; there was a dress for every occasion in there. I want to ask Lucien if he had done this for me or if this was for someone else, and in that moment, I had just been unlucky enough to be chosen by him.
"Come in," his voice snapped me out of my thoughts as I looked around. I settled on him and walked right towards the comfy fort-like structure he had built on the ground.
"Did you do this?" I ask as I lower myself and feel the layers of soft blankets soothe my skin. When did I get so used to comfort? It has barely been a month since I arrived here, and already soft blankets were soothing? I look up at him when he drops a blanket on my body, creating an even warmer atmosphere.
My eyes trail him as he drops an arm's length away from me and takes up the remote. "Want to choose what we would see?" His question was direct, but for some reason, I did not trust myself enough to be able to handle a remote. I had just gotten used to a mobile phone; I was not sure if I could say the same about other electrical devices.
"You can choose it," I reply, trying to keep a quiet tone.
"Okay," he nods as he begins to navigate the television, choosing a movie. I did not pay attention, not with him breathing a few meters away from me and the hairs of my body standing as if one wrong move could change everything. I stare at the screen, but my mind is already so far away that I do not know how I am going to be able to get it back here.
"Here," he says, and I turn to him, handing me a bowl of popcorn. "I had them make it like the ones from the movies so you don't miss out on the taste," he says, and I want to tell him that I had never been to the movies; the best I had ever seen was on television.
"Thank you." I take the bowl from him, and my hands graze his, leaving me with a funny feeling down in my stomach. I can't describe the feeling at all, but it is not bad.
"You are welcome." His hand jerks away before the words come out, and I see it drop to his lap.
"Did you see a lot of movies while you were growing up?" I ask, and I see his eyes twinkle with excitement, as if he were almost too excited to talk about it, and it was foreign to me; I had never seen this kind of reaction from him since I had been here.
"My mom used to have a movie marathon on Friday once every month; we sat around and watched movies the entire night," he said, and I smiled.
I don't remember a single thing my mom did for me, even though she claimed that all she did in life was for me. I remember having her take me to the Thamore mansion, but before then, I could barely remember anything. I had always made peace with myself that my life started at the age of ten when she took me to the Thamore mansion.
"That's nice," I say, gulping down. I am grateful he does not return the question because I would not have had an answer, and maybe I would have cried. I had cried more here in a month than I had in the last five years.
"Do you have a genre you like?" His voice came alongside one from the television, and I looked at him to be sure he was talking to me.
"Me?"
"Of course," his eyebrow went up in confusion. "We are the only ones here," he adds as if I am being ridiculous.
"Oh, I don't; I barely watched movies." I sat, and then in my mind I added, 'That is the only reason I want to watch them.'
"Let's have a movie marathon then; we'll watch various movies, and then you can tell what genre you like the best."
"Aren't you busy?" I ask, and he shakes his head. I cough and shift, putting the popcorn bowl beside me. "I like the gesture, and I truly do appreciate it, but I have to ask, why are you doing this?" My question was like ripping off the Band-Aids without mercy.
He looks surprised that I would even ask him such a question, and my heart is beating to hear the answer. I might not like it, but I still deserve to know.
"You had a list, and I thought it would be a nice gesture for me to help you," he says as if it is that simple.
"You avoided any form of conversation with me for days; things were awkward, and then one morning, you are offering to join me in a movie marathon? One that might take all day? Do you see how that might raise questions?" I ask, and he looks away.
"I just wanted to do something nice for you," he adds in a low voice.
I should not be complaining; spending time with him was not as bad as I was painting it to be. The only problem was that I was not sure about any feelings while we sat that close to each other.
"If you do not want this, then we can stop now," he says, seeing how uncomfortable I was. "I just thought this might be a good icebreaker between us," he adds.
I close my eyes and feel all the veins on my forehead pop. "I am sorry for making a big deal. Maybe we should just watch the movie."
He makes a sound of approval from the back of his throat, and we both face the television. The room is quiet, too quiet, the kind that makes you fear what would come next, but if we aren't quiet, I don't know what else we would be doing.