The Bucketlist

31| HEAVEN OR HELL

"Should I turn on the heater? You look like you will freeze to death." Will said sympathetically. He can sound caring if he wants to. I nodded my head. He went on to turn on the switch when all the lights closed off. Pitch-black darkness engulfed us.

"Whoa. There's a power cut. We might have blown down a fuse or two. Though that's unlikely." Will said across the dark room. I couldn't make out his face, but his voice was as clear as ever. Faint days of street light entered through the curtains.

"Oh my god!" I yelled.

"Are you afraid of darkness, little girl!" He mocked me.

"It's rude to mock others all the time. I am just a bit cold."I lied.

I am afraid of the dark.

I sleep with my lights on, but I can't just tell him that. He would make fun of me and  call me silly names. We haven't been friends since my confession, and we barely talk about anything other than work. No matter how grown up we looked, we were typically those kids from kindergarten who never got along. Did I mention that Will Turner could be a baby when he wants to?

"Wait, I might have some candles in my drawer." Will turned on his phone's flashlight. Jerk. He could have done that moments ago. Even his ignorance haunts my existence.

"Umm, why do you have candles in your drawers?"I asked out of curiosity.

"To perform black magic." His eyes turned a dark shade of grey.

His lips shut in a straight line, and he positioned the flashlight to highlight the sideline of his jaw. Then out of nowhere, his hand flung out of the air and landed on my shoulder.

"Ahhhh!" I screamed aloud, and he broke into laughter.

"Shut the fuck up. That is not funny.  I am scared, but you are a true asshole!"I nearly cried, not worrying since no one could tell in the dark.

"I am sorry. I am sorry, Eva. I was messing with you. I love scented candles, that's why I have them. I will light up some. " His tone was apologetic.

"Your apology is not accepted, but candles are welcome," I said, shaking in my clothes.

"Do you need something to change in? You might catch a cold if you keep on wearing that. I might have spare shirts." He said, pointing towards my drenched blouse-skirt attire.

"Why do you have spare shirts?" I asked suspiciously. Was Tyranny a spy or something? One of Charlie's Angels? Or maybe Caroline's Muse? Something like that, perhaps.

"I live in my office." He chuckled. 

That was practically true. He always came before the rest of us, and no one saw him leaving the building when the work hours were done and dusted. If Will Turner were to die, Tyranny's ghost would occupy the swivel chair in his office.

"Here, grab onto this. You can go and change anywhere you feel comfortable. The CCTVs are as good as the lights."

He tossed some fabric with buttons. It was satin. A satin shirt! The texture was soft, and it screamed posh.

"Do you have any spare pants too?" I mocked. 

However, there was a slight possibility there might be a wardrobe installed somewhere in the office. That's just the way he always was. Work. Work. Work. Nothing more, nothing less.

"No. But I can give you mine!" He smirked. This guy knows how to take a joke. I decided not to tamper with his sarcasm. The last thing I'd expect is him to get his fly undone, get on his knees and offer me his pants. The image itself was highly repelling. At least I could pretend, that is.