Illusory

"Is this what you wanted to show me?" I asked as I stepped into the kitchen. The entire first floor was pitch-dark except for this room, lit by what had to be hundreds of candles spread all around. Every inch of counter space but for the center island was covered in brightly burning candles, and the sweet smell of vanilla filled the air as a result. Only two tall candles burned in the center of the island, both dripping melted red wax onto the steel surface. A white ceramic plate set to either side of the candles, laden with what looked to be lasagna, which just happened to be my favorite food. I crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes. "Really, Van? What are you trying to pull here?"

"I just wanted us to have a nice dinner together," he told me, leaning against the island with his arms crossed casually over his chest. He was wearing his best black suit and his best calm mask. "Sort of like a date."

"Do you really think this is the best time for us to be on a 'date'?" I asked, somewhere between aggravated and homicidal. "You just told me that you won't teach me magic anymore. I've already punched you in the face twice. I will do it a third time."

"I know, I know," he said, "and I don't blame you. To be honest," he went on, turning away from me to stare at the lasagna, "I had this planned out before I told you. I was originally going to wait until now to tell you."

"You were going to tell me that I couldn't learn magic anymore...over a candlelit dinner?" I couldn't believe a word of what I was hearing. Just…Just…Seriously?! "Enjoy eating by yourself, Van," I spat, spinning on a heel and starting back toward the stairs.

"Wait, wait," he said, rushing to grab my wrist. "I know that wasn't the best idea. That's why I didn't go through with it."

I glared up at him. "So, instead, you wanted to tell me first, completely devastate me, then have a romantic dinner with me? How does that make any fucking sense?"

He sighed, and I could see in his eyes that he knew that he was just digging himself deeper and deeper into this hole. "It doesn't, I suppose. But I've already made the food and lit all of these candles. Won't you at least sit with me for long enough to eat and enjoy this for a moment?"

"Fine," I sighed, though I still glared up at him. "But don't expect much good to come of this. I'm not happy with you, and I probably won't be for a long, long time." I jerked my arm from his gentle grasp and stormed over to a stool, where I promptly flopped down and dug into my lasagna with the fork lying next to my plate.

I heard him sigh again, but he said nothing as he sat down on the stool across from me. He began to eat his own food, and I felt his eyes on me between the melting red candles. "You know," he finally said, unable to hold his tongue, "I don't think it's very fair of you to be mad at me."

I stopped eating and straightened to my full height on the stool. My glare now was so icy that I was surprised the candles weren't melting my eyes. "And how is that, Van?"

"I could've lied to you," he explained, his eyes dropping to his food as he picked through it. "I could've given you other reasons as to why I couldn't teach you, reasons that wouldn't have hurt you so much until you found out the truth. I could've simply avoided the subject altogether and kept putting you off whenever you asked to learn something until you finally grew suspicious of me. I could have done something other than told you the truth like an adult. Doesn't it count for something that I did tell you the truth?"

I dropped my fork onto my plate with a loud clatter. "No, Van, that doesn't count for anything," I snapped, and I could already feel tears beginning to well up in my eyes. "You said you didn't trust me to learn magic anymore before you said anything about not teaching me. You could've just told me that you didn't think it was a good idea and just gone on from there, but you didn't."

His eyes met mine boldly, narrowed in a glare filled with a heat that nearly rivaled the ice in mine. "If I would've said that," he said, his voice rising in volume and intensity, "you would have argued with me until I told you why I could no longer be your teacher. You would have made me hurt you eventually, and you would have continued to be hurt every second of every day until then."

"You said you didn't trust me, Van!" I screamed, springing to my feet with such speed and force that the stool toppled to the floor and slid across the tile behind me. "You didn't say that I couldn't handle it; you didn't say that you couldn't handle me; you didn't say that you were worried for my safety. You just said that you didn't trust me with magic." The tears began to fall, and I shouted, "Did you think that wouldn't hurt me?!"

"So this is about the phrasing?!" he yelled back, standing with only a bit more care for the stool than I had.

"No, you ass! It's about the sentiment behind the phrasing!" With a sweep of my arm across the counter top, I knocked my plate of food and the candles to the floor, a raw cry of rage ripping through my throat. "You're so stupid!" A sob wracked my body, and I ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Ember, wait!" Van called after me, and though I could hear the regret in his voice, the guilt for what he'd just unknowingly done, I didn't stop until I was in my bedroom with the door shut and locked behind me. "Ember!" he yelled again, and I heard his footsteps thundering up the stairs.

Krekkel gazed calmly at me from her spot beside the bed, where she'd curled into a ball to take a nap while I was downstairs. The bloodied steak packaging lay spread across the floor around her. "Would you like me to go?" she asked in a soft purr.

I shook my head, feeling horrible that she'd seen me with tears streaming down my cheeks twice in one day. "I don't care if he sees you anymore. I just don't care." I leaned against the door, pressing my back into it, and it soon shook beneath Van's fists as he pounded on the wood.

"Ember, let me in!" he called. "We need to talk, and we need to do it without getting so angry." Yet he was still pounding away at the door, jerking me about with every knock.

"Are you sure that's wise, tiny human?" she asked, raising her head from her paws to gaze up at me seriously. "He'll know how I came to be here."

"I don't care!" I cried, both to the cat and to Van. "I just don't care anymore!"

"Ember, come on!" he pleaded, and he stopped beating at the door. I heard his hand hit it one more time, an open-palmed slap, then nothing. "We need to talk."

"Talking isn't going to get us anywhere anymore," I said, my body still jerking with the occasional sob. "It's only going to make us angrier."

"Come on," he begged again. "We can do this. We're both adults. We can make this work."

"I don't think we should work together anymore," I said softly. "After we get those books back, I'm going to leave."

There was silence in the hallway, and I began to wonder if he had heard me. But soon enough, I heard his fist against the door again, just once. "Ember, no. We can make this work! This isn't as big of a problem as we're making it out to be. There's no reason for you to leave."

"I have every reason to leave now, Van," I said with a pathetic sniffle. I swallowed back the rising lump in my throat and whispered, "There's nothing to keep me here." It was unspoken, but we could both feel it. Not even you.

"But...Ember..." He didn't go on. His palm smacked the door one last time, then his footsteps retreated down the hallway. I heard a door slam, and my back slid down my own until I was a pathetic heap on the floor.

"Tiny human," Krekkel purred as she rose to her feet, approaching me to nudge my head gently, comfortingly, with her own. The flames weren't hot. I barely felt them but for a tickle against my cheek. "You will be better off without him. He only holds you back." I nodded numbly, lying a hand gently on the cat's head to thank her for her words. She rubbed against it, a purr rumbling through her chest.

"We leave for Washington tomorrow," I whispered, my eyes empty and unfocused as they stared down at the floor. "We only have a couple of days left together."

"Savor it, then," she told me, "and keep in mind that you will soon be free to do as you wish with no one to tell you that you can or cannot practice magic."

"You've only known me for a few hours," I said softly, turning toward her. Our eyes met, and the gentle emotion in her red irises was shocking. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I told you," she said, lying on her belly beside me, her chin on my lap. "I've grown fond of you."

"But why?" I whispered, a hand resting on the back of her massive neck. The fire made my fingers tingle.

"I just have a feeling about you," she murmured in response, then closed her eyes. "You're someone worth caring for."

"Thank you," I breathed. "I guess someone has to think so."