A Fairy Out of Her Tale - Dear Diary - 54. Scene 54

22nd January 1995

Dear Diary of Inspired Wardrobes,

I won't have time to talk about my date with Lydia before it's officially too late to be awake. All I'll say for now is that I'm definitely going to remember every single detail of it by the time I wake up tomorrow, so you don't have to worry about not getting the full account of it.

Now, though, I want to tell you what happened in Kris's room. Because if I hadn't been there and lived through it all, I would never have believed it.

I knocked on Kris's door and he shouted some word I didn't understand. Nothing happened for a while. I knocked again. He shouted the same thing, louder this time. So I knocked again, and finally I heard the sound of a chair scrapping the floor and his heavy steps marching towards me. He seemed ready to shout and intimidate me like he usually does, but once he realised it was me he actually stood there with his mouth open and body completely frozen while his face got progressively redder.

'You ok?' I asked. Was it even normal for someone to look that red? Or were shape-shifters capable of skin colours that were technically impossible (they could have pink hair, so red skin shouldn't be much harder to do, right?)?

'It's you. Sorry. Wrong language. Come.'

My voice probably set Kris's brain back into motion. He gave me space to walk into his room and I had to take some time to admire it. It wasn't my style, I would never be able to spend any extended amount of time in that place, but it was still quite impressive. For starters, I couldn't even guess what colour the wallpaper was because everything was covered in posters of either groups of people wearing dark clothes and holding strange musical instruments, or huge texts in Daisenian caligraphy. He had one poster of Fairy Fun Greenhouse above his bed. His duvet had a cover that resembled the onesie he wore yesterday for breakfast: grey with black bats. The desk next to the door was completely covered in scattered papers and some dolls I didn't recognise. He had a computer too (I don't think I ever saw one of those outside of mum's workplace). And an entire wall of the room was dedicated to his wardrobe, a monstrosity of doors and drawers carved in the darkest wood I had ever seen. One of the doors was half-open and I could see a pink something peaking out.

'Your room is...' I wanted to be polite and say "nice", but the word couldn't leave my mouth.

'You want dress. Choose.' He pointed to the wardrobe. Did he understand I was trying to give him a compliment?

'Thank you. Why did you decide to help me?'

Kris stared at me blankly. I guess he didn't understand the question? I didn't know how else I could say it, so I did as he told me and opened the wardrobe door that had the pink thing poking out of it. Kris must have tried to cram fifty dresses in a space made for thirty, because those dresses came really close to exploding in my face the moment I set them free. I was afraid to try fish something out and cause a horrible avalanche effect, but with the proper concentration and nimble fingers, I looked my way through those fifty dresses, taking out the ones that called my attention the most. I figured Kris would be keeping an eye on his belongings, but when I glanced at him, he was at his computer with his back turned to me.

The more I shuffled through his things the more questions I had. Where did he get all this stuff? What made him like pink summer dresses as well as black leather jackets? Why was he letting me touch and consider wearing his rich red velvet dress with a huge cleavage and open back? Would he really be ok if I said I wanted to wear the purple sparkly dress that showed 80% of my legs and was held together by a single shoulder strap?

And, most disturbing of all, what would he look like wearing the sleeveless flowery dress that seemed as delicate to the touch as a feather?

Was this really him? Did he have a "flowery" personality he kept hidden? Why did he keep it hidden?

'Can I have this one?' I showed him a (really, really short) cocktail pink dress that seemed the right mixture of sexily gorgeous and painfully uncomfortable to wear.

Kris didn't even look up from the computer. 'Yes. Anything.'

Really? Was he not worried or interested at all? Then why invite me in the first place?

'Thanks.'

I headed to the door, but he stood up just as I was passing by him. I did fear for a moment that he would reveal it was all a trap and I was doomed forever, but he just pointed to his screen, indicating I should read it.

The text was some kind of auto-translate to Fadalesh. A lot of it didn't exactly make sense, but I got the idea of what he wanted to say:

I know you don't have clothes. I have a lot, so we can share. We're the same size. It'll fit. You want to go shopping for clothes with me? Unn and Lydia don't like clothes shopping. So we can go just the two of us one day. Sorry I was in a bad mood before. I sometimes don't like people. But I'm trying to be better. Lóránt said I have to be nicer to people.

I have to say, the whole thing surprised me more than anything I had seen in that house so far. I would never had expected Kris to... I don't know, to have some hidden side to him? Even if "hidden" meant "something I have been told I need to develop in order to function in society".

'I don't know what to say. I'm really thankful for you offering me your dresses. That's nice of you. Maybe... I guess I can think about shopping with you? I need my own clothes too, after all...'

Kris stared at me with blank eyes again. I guess he didn't understand all the words I said. So I tried to make it simpler.

'Thanks. Yes?'

And then he smiled. I swear he did! Showed his teeth and everything (and they were kinda pointy. Is that a shape-shifter fashion statement?)!

'Great! Good meeting to you and Lydia!' (I guess he meant "date")

And then I went back to my room to put on that gorgeous dress and enjoy my day with Lydia.

But I didn't stop thinking about that smile until I was face to face with Lydia, and her sexyness wiped out everything else from my mind.

Good night, Dear Diary, good night.