Naminé didn't know how, but she was afraid of the dark. It had too often brought tormentors over, hidden the far-away corners and blanketed her notepad.
So, when by a stroke of luck it was the illusionist walking out of the portal, book in hand… she tossed herself into his arms.
"I'm scared of the dark" – she whispers.
"Would that mean you are scared of me too?"
"No!"
"Well… I'm part of the dark… it isn't that bad, Naminé"
"Mind staying over here, please?"
She woke up the next 'morning' to see him still sleeping on the desk, his cloak over her like a blanket. The dark wasn't so scary now.