APH :: Scotophobia :: Canada

Your heart pounded in your chest as sweat trickled down your forehead. Just moments before, you had been sitting on the sofa with Matthew and his brother Alfred, watching some ridiculously bad horror movie, which postulated that people felt tingles up their spine when they were afraid because of an alien parasite which had affixed itself to the vertebrae. Alfred had been squealing in terror, while you and Matthew had been laughing and rolling your eyes at the ludicrousness of it all. [1]

Then an earthquake had struck. It had been small, but it had managed to do some serious damage, knocking the power out and causing Alfred to scream like a little girl about to be slain by a serial killer.

Matthew had sighed and gone to hunt up the emergency flashlights and candles.

And you? Well, let's just say the parasite affixed to your vertebrae was sending you plenty of tingles.

"Maple hockey," Matthew grumbled, coming back into the living room, "These little earthquakes are so annoying."[2]

You had never been so happy to see Matthew before in your life—and that was saying something. You two had known each other for quite some time, and you deeply felt quite fond of his company. But at the moment, he was carrying something invaluably precious to you—a flashlight. "Yeah," you mumbled, grabbing for it wildly, "super annoying."

"DUDE HOW ARE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT?!" Alfred shrieked from his place under the sofa.

With a roll of your eyes, you leaned forward and shined the light on him. "Haven't you lived in North America your whole life?" you asked, "Shouldn't you be used to them by now, Mr. Hero?"

"Sh-shut up!" Alfred stammered, snatching the flashlight from you and clutching it to himself, "I am so not afraid of earthquakes! It was that stupid movie."

You were too busy struggling with your abrupt onset of panic to tease him further. "ALFRED!" you all but shrieked, "Give it back!"

"_-__-____?" Matthew said, holding a candle out to you, "It's okay. I have more…"

You swallowed, embarrassed for overreacting, and took the candle from him while he dug for the matches. "Thanks, Matt."

Okay, ____, you told yourself, You can do this. So it's a little dark! So what? It's not like there's suddenly a monster behind every—HOLY MAPLE WHAT WAS THAT?! [3] You shivered as a rustling sounded from beneath the sofa, only to realize it was probably Alfred, trying to shuffle out.

"Um….____?" Matthew called.

You turned your attention to him and noticed that he was extending a lit match. You instantly connected the candle's wick with the flame, and sighed with relief as it caught.

"Are y-you okay?" Matthew asked quietly, waving out the match before it could burn him.

"Of course," you whispered, blushing, "Just fine."

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could see in his eyes that he didn't believe you. But the Matthew you knew and adored never pressed uncomfortable issues, and he didn't start now.

Alfred, on the other hand, was not of the same disposition.

"Whassamatter, dude?" he teased, poking your reddened face, "You're like a strawberry right now."

"Shut up!" you snapped, shoving him with one hand while tightening your grasp on the candle anxiously. If it went out now…

Alfred laughed, and a devilish grin spread across his features as he noted your death-grip on the simple wax stick. "Oooh, I get it," he said, "You're scared of the dark!"

Blush roared over your cheeks, and your fists clenched defensively. "I am not!"

"You so are!"

"I am not!"

"You are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Oh, yeah?" In one swift motion, he simultaneously blew out your candle and turned off his flashlight, plunging the room into blackness.

You shrieked and started in surprise, grasping wildly onto the thing closest to you—which happened to be Matthew's arm.

You heard Alfred's obnoxious laughter ring out in the darkness. A second later, the flashlight came back on and shone over you and Matthew brightly.

"Oh, this is rich! Is poow widdle ____ scawed of the dawk?" Alfred taunted.

Embarrassment and rage flooded your body. A sound that resembled a growl escaped you as you reared back and slammed your fist into his shoulder.

Matthew looked on in silent horror as you pummeled his brother to the floor, shouting and sending a beam of light flying around the room.

"ALFRED F. JONES WHAT YOU JUST DID ONLY PROVES THAT YOU'RE AN ENORMOUS JERK!" you shouted, turning and storming angrily out of the house.

*~*~*~*

"Jeez…" Alfred grumbled as ____ slammed the door behind her, "Can't she take a joke?"

Matthew didn't reply. He was too concerned. ____ was normally a bright person, if a little—well, very—guarded. Even as long as they had been friends, there were many things he didn't know about her. He always figured, though, that they'd have time to learn everything.

But this had come up abruptly out of nowhere. And for her to respond so violently, it was obvious that Alfred had hit extremely close to home.

And if she really was afraid of the dark, then she was currently walking home...at night.

With no streetlights.

Matthew snatched the emergency backpack from the coffee table and chased out the door after her.

Maybe, just maybe, I can be the hero this time. [4]

*~*~*~*

Okay, note to self, you thought, clutching your cell phone tightly, next time, plan your rage-quits a lot better.

The street was dark, much darker than usual, and walking at night had never been anything close to your favorite pastime. At least you had some luck—the typical post-earthquake weather had meant there were no clouds in the sky, and moonlight filtered down to you.

Your phone went dark, and you fervently pressed the keys, desperate to keep it as bright as you could.

Alfred had been right, of course. And how it infuriated you.

It was a stupid fear, you told yourself constantly. Sure, it was common for children. But most rational, mature people had long outgrown the need for sleeping with a nightlight, or keeping the hall lit all night so you never had to walk down black passages. It was one of your biggest weaknesses, and you hated it. It made you feel ridiculous.

Then again, phobias aren't exactly known for their reasonableness.

You turned onto your street, where not a single light could be found. You groaned. That meant your house wouldn't have power, either.

The sound of quiet footsteps echoed from behind you, and a brand new terror washed over you. Blindly, you flew as quickly as your feet could carry you down your street, hopping over every shadow that could possibly be an obstacle.

You cursed under your breath as you fumbled with the key to your home. As soon as the stubborn lock gave way you rushed in and slammed the door behind you. You sighed as the deadbolt slid easily into place, forgetting for a moment that you were still wrapped in dimness.

You tried the lights longingly—to no avail. The momentary peace you had was gone.
You were just about to run for your emergency lights when a soft knock came from the door behind you.

"____?" the barely-audible voice called, "C-Can I co-come in?"

You'd know that stammer anywhere.

You flung the lock back, threw door open and launched yourself into Matthew's comforting arms. Long-suppressed tears found release in the reassurance you found there.

He froze in surprise for only a moment before tenderly wrapping his arms around you and nudging you back inside your home. "It's okay, ____," he said. He wriggled a little in your vice-like grip, but he didn't try to push you away. There came a gentle click, and he was holding a flashlight in front of you. "Th-thought you might want this…"

Forgetting to argue, you took it from him appreciatively. "Thanks, Mattie."

He blushed deeply, and smiled that sweet, adorable smile you'd grown so attached to.

It gave you a different kind of tingle than the darkness did.

This tingle, you liked.

***

Within five minutes, you and Matthew had set up a variety of candles and pressure-activated lights all around the house—from the kitchen to the bedrooms to the bathrooms, and even those pesky hallways—so nowhere you went was shrouded in secrecy.

You then sat together on the sofa, reading peacefully in the quiet, warm lights. You felt a new appreciation washing over you.

You wouldn't mind having power outages more often, if they meant being with him, like this.

"Thank you," you said quietly, "For all this."

He offered another gentle smile and shook his head. "I-It's no big deal."

You chuckled a bit darkly. Yeah, easy for him to say. "No, seriously. I really appreciate it."

His blush deepened, and he only shrugged. "I w-was just worried about y-you…"

Now it was your turn to blush. "You didn't have to be."

"W-well, what do you e-expect?" he whispered shyly, "I c-care about you. A l-lot…"

Your eyes widened dramatically. You wanted desperately to ask what he meant by that—of course, you knew he cared about you, but such a confession from Matthew was unprecedented, and you couldn't help but feel there was more he wasn't telling you. But no matter how curious you were, did you really have the right to interrogate him? Especially when he never tried to pry stuff out of you?

Very slowly, you leaned over and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. "I'm afraid of the dark," you whispered quietly.

Matthew gazed at you intently with a beet-red face before carefully and gently covering his lips with yours. "I love you, too."