Sweet fear

He took a drag on his cigarette and blew out smoke rings. They slowly melted and floated toward the ceiling.

"Fear, you say? Fear has nothing to do with it. When I say 'they scare me' or 'I'm afraid,' it doesn't mean it's fear. Or rather, not the kind of fear you're used to."

"What kind of fear?" the boy looked at him in confusion. "I'm afraid of monsters under the bed." Well, that is, I was afraid. I'm afraid of grades. But it's the same fear. Even if it's about different things. I'm sweating, my legs are shaking, and probably these little hamstrings—I don't know where they are, but they're definitely shaking. How is that not the same kind of fear?"

He looked at the boy with a grin. Small, with dark circles under his eyes, skinny. A smart guy, but still a child.

"When you grow up, you'll understand." He took another drag on his cigarette.

"Everyone says that. Explain." 

The boy was offended and sat there sulking, but curiosity compelled him to continue asking.

"When she speaks, it hurts. No, that's not it. Human languages have too few words to describe it. I don't sweat, I don't shake. I just want to press myself deeper into the floor, into the wall, to seep through the pores of the earth and hide from this screeching, from this thunder. It drenches me like hot caramel... you've touched molten caramel, haven't you?"

"I've touched it. It hurts," the boy winced. "But it's sweet."

"Exactly! Sweet. Pain and sweetness, these hands, this voice. Fear like a roller coaster, but you want to disappear," he thought. "No, not that again."

"Ah..." the boy began, but soft, stealthy footsteps sounded in the hallway. The boy froze, looking at the door of the room. The door slowly opened.

 "My little darling, my sweetie, my darling cookie, you're my sweetie. Why aren't you sleeping, my little one?"

"That's what I meant," he whispered, quickly disappearing into the darkness of the closet.

"Mom, the monster under the bed said you give him a sweet fear. How so?"

Mom hugged her son tightly, kissing his forehead and face:

"Sleep, sweetie, monsters don't exist, my sweet little darling. And who smoked under the window to make the room stink like that?"