Fallen Queen

~ C H A P T E R E L E V E N ~

"It's nice," I mumble between mouthfuls of the delectable omelette Melian has made for me. She's quiet as usual; I'm now used to being the only one making almost all of the conversation minus the times she hums or occasionally talks like a normal person. Melian has always been quite quiet of a person, only gossiping with me to death occasionally. However, when we are down to topics of her interest- like the stupid biology, her mouth almost kills me.

"Mmm," she mumbles and concentrates on her eggplant. I hate eggplant- Ian pretty much eats everything and anything which is edible. Ian being short for Melian- Mel is too common of a nickname and Melian is just a long-ass, old-fashioned word.

"How's work?" I ask her curiously, making it my aim to drag a few words out of her mouth. Oh, it's such a pain in the ass to get to my last resort, her job, every time. She'll now probably perk up like a fucking notification.

Melian Frostine is just as her name suggests- frosty and an ice princess, but not the kind who looks down at people. She's the kind of nerd who's quite sophisticated- an intellectual genius who denies the offer of being social for once. Melian Frostine is the studious kind who doesn't normally speak unless she's spoken to. She's the kind who steers clear of guys and bitchy girlish squealing and conversation, scrunches her nose at makeup stores and rolls her eyes at sappy dramas- every bit that I need in my best friend is right in there, beside me, eating eggplant.

Now, the food choices and silence can be avoided.

Melian stays in the flat opposite to mine. She's more of a morning shift person- I'm the night shift kind, but, office sucks and I will have to wake up, ugh. Speaking of Ian, she's one of Cali's top surgeons in Ronald Reagan UCLA hospitals. She was a sucker for biology since she was a child, her nose either in a biology book or hands always at the hobby she loved- painting. Painting stuff meant the world to her- and her fingers were God-gifted all the same, adding liveliness to every stroke of her brush.

"Good," she mumbled and looked up at me. I rolled my eyes and heaved a sigh out, "Today will roll out with one-word answers from you, you duck. I'm trying, for God's sake!"

"Erm," she mumbled, the smile back on her face, her cheeks flashing embarrassment, "It's the work and stuff. I'm just bored and tired."

"Bro, why am I even here?!" I feign surprise, "I only came so that my best friend Ian, who always looks up to me as a role model and an inspiration in her life, would be happy," I place the fork down and push the bowl of soup towards her.

"That's enough," she rolled her eyes, "You talk too big, Isa. Now, now, don't make me force the soup down your throat as well. It's good for your health."

"Yeah, sure, Doc-tor," I say with a glint of sarcasm and she shakes her head in visible exasperation, "I need a break, for God's sake," she looks at the ceiling while she mumbles and then looks at me out of the corner of her eyes, "Isa, you should be the one initiating this, but," she sighs, "I wait and wait and you don't come up with the brilliant idea, but oh, giiiiirl," she stretches it out and I narrow my eyes in suspicion at her forthcoming attitude, "I needa get drunk."

"Are you saying, wait, no-," I pause and press the back of my hand to her forehead, "No, you're not ill- you want to go clubbing?!"

"Yep," she pops the 'p', pouting.

I sit cross legged on the chair, "An interesting aspect of a parallel universe. Perhaps, somewhere," I act as if explaining stuff in a geography class. She flashes a poker face at me.

"I really do," she shrugs, "I haven't been to a bar since, like," she starts thinking and counting on her fingers and finally flashes four fingers, "Four years. The last time, it was when I was promoted to the Chief Surgeon of Neurosurgery and Cardiac Surgery."