Abditory

1858.

She hated being compared to her older sister.

A black-haired youth stormed out of the Villan Manor, Lucilia calling out for her with a pained look on her face. She watched as her younger sister stomped into the rain and considered stopping her, but it was likely that her father would just scold her like he scolded Monika, and her face paled slightly. Glancing sadly at her retreating figure, she stepped back into her home and closed the door.

On the other hand, sixteen-year-old Monika Villan didn’t mind as the rain poured down. Lightning struck the sky and she walked faster, tightening the coat around her and wishing she had gotten something warmer. But the girl willed herself to keep walking. After all, his house was only a few more minutes, a couple of steps away.

She had gotten tired of walking when finally; the sight of the bricked house caught her eye. Monika rushed to the front door and knocked, standing there and shivering as the winds blew harshly on her skin. The door opened, and she found herself looking at Christophe Gregory, who took in the sight of her drenched because of the rain.

“…what happened?”

“I ran off. Again.”

And he smiled sadly, bringing her inside. Immediately, Monika was comforted by the sight of warm orange and sea blue walls, he sitting her down afterwards.

“Tea, mon cher?” she nodded.

“Where are your parents?”

“Out.” He walked to the kitchen, and she could hear the assembling of materials. “I don’t know when they’ll be back…either way; I think they would be happy to see you.”

“I don’t want to intrude-”

“You won’t.”

Monika stayed silent and shrugged out of her wet coat, hanging it up and sitting back down. Soon enough, he came out with her tea and gave it to her, the lady murmuring a ‘thank you’ before taking a sip. Hot and sweet, just as she liked it.

He sat across her and quietly watched.

“So what happened this time?”

“The usual.” She bit her lip and sighed, setting the cup down on the table. “Another talk, something slipped out of my mouth and then boom – things like ‘you should be more like your sister’,” her voice dripped with bitter sarcasm, “Stop wasting your time and do something worthwhile like Lucilia. Sit up straighter like Lucilia. Lucilia, Lucilia, Lucilia! It’s all I hear every single day in that house. Just because..."

And she stopped.

Christophe frowned.

“…that isn’t quite fair, Monika.”

“It never is.”

“Can’t you block him out?”

“I try to, but I always end up hearing him no matter what I do. I sometimes think that a flash of lightning would strike the house whenever I got mad,” she joked and sighed yet again. “I don’t want to go home yet. I might get scolded – again – and be sent to my room without supper. No supper tonight, Monika. If only he knew about the treats you sent,” she added with a slight smile in his direction.

And he laughed.

“I have much, much more in the pantry. Would you like some?”

“Maybe later, but thank you.”

And she finished her cup of tea.

“Don’t mind your père,” he said next. The French accent lit up his words, twisting them into interesting ways. “And besides, I think your soeur is on your side. Isn’t she?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” she muttered.

And he got the impression that she didn’t want to talk about it.

“The rain will clear up soon,” he nodded at the window, which displayed the lessening rains. The sky was turning a lighter gray, and soon, it would be white again.

“I know. And that means that I’ll have to go back there.”

He looked at her.

An expression of irritation and worry lit her young features.

“Not yet.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“You don’t have to go back there yet,” he offered. “Stay here for a while. Keep me company while my père and mère are out.

And she blushed, looking away and suddenly gaining interest in her skirt.

“I-I wouldn’t like to be a bother-”

“You won’t.”

“Christophe, are you sure?”

He met her gaze and finally smiled.

“Of course.”