Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“That’s different.” Her roommate was sitting in the corner, cozied up under a patchwork quilt when she walked in. There was a thick, well worn book in her hands that she appeared to be close to finishing. Only a single bronze floor lamp illuminated the cramped space, since she was fond of the dark.

“Yeah! I was walking home and--” she began excitedly, proudly holding up her newfound treasure. The bottle had probably been red at one time, but it had acquired a greenish-brown patina with age. Its intricate lid was sealed tight, which she knew because she had already tried to remove it.

“Frey… you dug in the trash again,” the pink-haired woman interrupted calmly, gazing back down at her book. She turned a page and the crinkling sound was as hushed as her voice.

“Not exactly! It was at the bottom of a crate with some random junk on the side of the road. It’s not like I climbed into a dumpster or something.” She sighed, disappointed in Dolce’s reaction even though she knew better than to expect enthusiasm.

“But you have done that before.” Dolce managed to sound both indifferent and judgmental. Her sharp maroon eyes remained fixated on her reading material, quickly skimming across the page.

“Just a couple of times! And it was only because I saw some really great stuff poking out,” she replied defensively, placing her free hand on her slender hip.

“You mean the broken clock and the rusty sword.” A meager grin graced Dolce’s shapely rouge lips as she briefly glanced up at her, delicately turning another rustling page.

“They’re antiques! Just like this bottle.” Frey’s green eyes lit up as she ran her fingers across the rough, barely discernible inscription. “I have no idea what these characters mean, but I’m going to try and find out. They look ancient.”

“You could probably take it to the museum,” Dolce suggested with a slight shrug, finally seeming interested when Frey stepped closer. She placed a black ribbon between the pages of her book and set it on their refurbished wooden coffee table, another of Frey’s roadside discoveries. “That’s a curious design.”

“I know! Isn’t it fantastic? The lid is shaped like the head of a jackal," she gushed, carefully extending her hands so Dolce could see. The worn jar was slightly larger than a standard drinking glass, but much heavier. “Do you think there’s anything still in it?”

“If there is, it’s not going to be pretty.”

Frey found herself torn between whether or not she should take the unique--likely one of a kind--bottle to the museum. She was dying to discover its origin and what the inscription meant, but at the same time, she was oddly compelled to keep it a secret. It almost felt like the artifact itself had a vague influence over her decision, but she laughed to herself and shook her head dismissively at the thought.

Before she left for work the following morning, she wrapped the bottle in a small towel and hid it safely in her closet. She wasn’t sure why--who was going to take it? Certainly not Dolce, and they weren’t expecting visitors anytime soon. Deciding that she was simply protective of her rare find, she grabbed her backpack and stepped outside onto the front porch, making sure to lock up securely.

The house that she and Dolce shared was quaint. The white exterior was starting to weather and the shutters could use a fresh coat of paint, but it was sturdy and had good bones. Their friends never had trouble finding their house because the door was cherry red, as well as the porch swing. It was surrounded by azaleas, which Frey herself had planted, and the walkway leading up to it was bordered by an assortment of flowers.

She practically skipped down the porch steps and began the short walk to work, enjoying the invigorating sunshine and the brisk wind. Spring was, without a doubt, her favorite time of year. The temperature was ideal and she always looked forward to starting her vegetable garden anew with a fresh clean slate. There wasn’t much she loved more than playing in the dirt, as Dolce liked to call it.

As a result of that, she had taken a job at the local garden center a couple of years earlier. Most of her day was spent caring for plants and keeping them in near-perfect condition, but she also frequently helped customers. She enjoyed giving them advice about growing, fertilizing, and harvesting; it was information she knew by heart at this point. Honestly, her job was hardly a job--she was getting paid to do her favorite hobby.

The sprawling garden center, Carnation’s, was situated across the street from the grocery store and the library. Since it was a small town, those were the only stores of its type. If you drove ten miles down the highway in either direction, there were more densely populated towns that were gradually spreading outward. They had a museum and larger retail outlets, which Frey didn’t feel the need to visit very often. Just about everything she needed was right there in Selphia.

“Morning, Amber,” Frey called cheerfully as she entered Carnation’s. The bell jingled above the door in greeting and she slid her backpack off of her shoulders. She brought it nearly everywhere in case she found something interesting, and her friends frequently teased her about it. It had come in handy far too many times for her to let the jokes bother her.

“Good morning, Frey!” Amber’s bright voice sounded like it came from behind the counter at the entrance of the flower department, but Frey couldn’t see her, so she was probably digging around in a drawer. She was always so optimistic in the mornings and she maintained her pleasant attitude throughout the day, which everyone appreciated.

Frey went to the break room to put her belongings away, and as she lifted her backpack to hang it on a hook, she noticed it seemed bulkier than it should have. It had felt considerably heavier on her walk, too, but she hadn’t thought much of it. Looking back, she only remembered packing a book to read while she was on break, a small sack lunch, and her water bottle.

She furrowed her brows in confusion as she quickly unzipped it, parting the canvas material and peering inside with curious eyes. What she saw made her squeak in alarm and stumble backward, losing her grip and sending her possessions tumbling to the tile floor. She nearly ended up on the floor, too, but she managed to catch herself with her hands. They stung from the harsh impact but she scarcely noticed.

“No, no, no!” she gasped, dropping to her knees and yanking her backpack upright. “Please don’t be broken…”

She gingerly reached inside and cradled the fragile object in her hands, finding it fully intact. She exhaled sharply through her parted lips and took a shuddering breath. The ancient, stony face of the jackal gazed expressionlessly back at her. 

“Huh…?” Frey shook her head and blinked her eyes quickly in an attempt to refocus. “I’m so sorry, Blossom. What were you saying?”

"Are you feeling under the weather, dear? I've repeated myself twice now." The older woman's voice was gentle and laced with concern. She was leaning on the handle of her cart, which was bursting with an array of perennial flowers.

"Oh, no, I'm--" Frey stuttered, attempting to gather her scattered thoughts. She felt like her brain had been taken apart and reassembled without the correct pieces. "I'm f-fine."

"It's time for your break, Frey," Amber interjected, patting her reassuringly on the shoulder. Worry was evident in her gray eyes and she observed her carefully before turning to assist Blossom.

Frey started to protest but she hesitantly nodded instead, blushing from embarrassment. Her knees were still shaky and her stomach was unsettled, making her feel lightheaded. She couldn’t stop wondering about the mysterious bottle--how had it appeared in her backpack? She was absolutely certain that she had wrapped it up and placed it in the very back of her closet. There was no logical explanation. She broke out into a cold sweat.

“What’s the matter, Frey?” Illuminata asked quizzically, her aqua eyes sparkling at the prospect of solving another mystery. She was the eccentric owner of Carnation’s, as well as her boss, and Frey had nearly bumped into her as she walked around the corner to the breakroom.

“S-sorry. I’m just feeling a little out of sorts,” Frey replied with as much confidence as she could muster. She forced a smile, aware of the tell-tale way her bottom lip trembled.

“You don’t look sick--you look scared!” Iluminata’s perceptive abilities were always causing her employees grief, and today, Frey appreciated it even less. “What happened? I need all of the details!”

“Okay, I’ll be honest.” Frey tried with all of her might to sound convincing, managing a self-deprecating laugh. “I thought I saw a ghost in the supply room. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“A ghost…,” Illuminata murmured thoughtfully, touching a finger to her chin. “Now that’s a mystery if I ever heard one. What did it look like? Quickly!”

“Well, um.. I barely caught a glimpse of it, but it looked kind of smoky and white,” she lied, worrying her lip and fidgeting restlessly. “It floated behind the rack with the, uh, gardening tools. I looked back there even though I was frightened, but it had disappeared.”

“Good job gathering that information, Frey,” Illuminata praised, clenching her fists with determination. Her lengthy red braid trailed behind her as she rushed away, heading in the direction of the supply room. “I’m going to investigate immediately!”

Frey sighed in relief, grateful that Illuminata had bought her little story. A ghost mystery would keep her boss occupied for a while. She would surely interview every employee, set up a night vision camera, and recruit someone as bait to try and draw it out. Hopefully Forte, Selphia’s diligent sheriff, wouldn’t catch wind of this. She was incredibly brave unless she was dealing with the supernatural.

Still feeling dazed, Frey continued on to the break room and eyed her backpack warily. She was fearful, yet she still found herself tempted to take another look. Her nerves were so rattled that she was trembling as she approached, forcing her feet to shuffle forward. She removed her backpack from the hook and opened it as cautiously as she would if a snake were inside.

The strange bottle was still there, much to her relief--she wasn’t sure she could tolerate it moving independently again. She heaved a sigh, hastily zipping her backpack closed and dropping her hands to her sides uncertainly. Where did she even go from there? If she tried to get rid of it, would it endlessly reappear among her belongings? 

“A ghost, huh?” Amber’s chipper voice sounded behind her, completely out of the blue, and Frey jumped before turning around with a sheepish expression. “Sorry! Wow, you must really be on edge!”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it scared me so badly! I’m sure it wasn’t a real ghost, of course.” She reached up and adjusted her mint-colored ponytail, trying to appear casual. “I guess I’ve been hanging around Forte too much.”

Amber laughed at that, seeming to believe her story as well. She moved to the sink to clean her hands, washing away the traces of potting soil. “Illuminata is on a rampage, you know. She’s not going to give up until she has evidence.”

“I know.” Frey sighed wearily, suddenly feeling exhausted by the bizarre day. “I regret telling her already, but you know how she is--she could sense something was wrong as soon as she saw me.”

“Yeah, there’s no escaping her detective side,” Amber giggled, drying her hands on a paper towel and tossing it in the trash. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and shot her a hopeful glance. “So are you coming back to work? I could use your help with a few tomato plants that are looking funky. You know I’m better with flowers.”

“Sure, I’ll be right there.” Frey glanced at her backpack once more when Amber left, and then an idea abruptly dawned on her.

Selphia’s library wasn’t very large, but its owner took advantage of every inch of space. It was absolutely packed to the brim, from floor to ceiling, with every genre Frey could imagine. She often wondered if it was possible for one person to read them all, and hopefully it wasn’t, since picking out a new book was always one of the highlights of her week.

She had the unfortunate habit of rushing inside and letting the heavy door slam behind her--Kiel should really install a quieter one--but today she actually remembered to close it gently. He was assisting someone when she approached the counter, so she waited as patiently as she could manage, feeling like the bottle was burning a hole in her back. It was impossible to ponder anything else; it was consistently visible in her mind’s eye.

“Hi, Frey!” Kiel greeted once he was free, grinning happily. His cherubic face made him appear younger than he actually was, and his soft blue eyes and kind demeanor were immensely comforting in that moment. She instantly knew she had made the right decision by visiting him. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she breathed, carefully removing her backpack and placing it on the glossy counter in front of him. She quickly glanced around before she unzipped it, making sure no one was paying attention, and then she motioned for him to peer inside. “Take a look at this.”

“Oh!" He gasped in awe, as taken aback as she had been when she found it, and she felt validated. He ran a hand through his unruly blond hair and his eyes were wide with wonder. “Wow. This is…”

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” she asked in an excited whisper. She leaned across the counter eagerly, meeting his bewildered gaze. “In books or otherwise?”

“I’ve seen similar artifacts in books before,” he replied incredulously, “but nothing quite like this.”

“Do you think you have a book that can help translate these characters?” She attempted to dampen her optimism in case he couldn’t solve it, but she definitely had her hopes up. “I’m dying to know what it says.”

“I think I have enough reliable references to figure it out.” He shook his head in wonderment, gazing down at the mysterious artifact again as he spoke. “This has to be hundreds of years old. Where in the world did you find it?”

“Believe it or not, in a pile of trash on the side of the road,” she grinned, watching expectantly for his reaction.

“No way!” His head snapped up and he gaped at her, astonished. “Your dumpster diving paid off!”

“I’ve only done that twice,” she growled, having already defended herself to Dolce the night before. She screwed her face up at him.

“Okay, okay. Let’s call it thrifting.” He chuckled lightly and removed his phone from his pocket. “Is it all right if I take some pictures? I’ll research it when I’m done for the day.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” she enthused, more than happy for his help. “Thank you so much!”

“No need to thank me.” He snapped a couple of pictures before looking up at her and smiling brightly. “I’m just as excited about this as you are! Thank you for sharing it with me!”

The next couple of days passed so gradually that on Thursday night, she was anxiously pacing circles in her room. If it was possible to wear holes into her carpet this way, she would surely succeed. She felt like the mystery of the bottle was slowly driving her insane, worming its way into her psyche, and she wrung her hands together as she walked.

That morning when she left for work, she had attempted to leave the bottle behind once more. This time she had placed it in a chest beneath her bed and padlocked it, yet when she arrived at Carnation’s, it was inexplicably occupying her backpack once again. Reeling in panic, she had shouted an excuse to Amber and sprinted home as quickly as her legs would carry her. When she pulled the chest out to examine it, it was perfectly intact--still locked, even--but it was empty.

She suppressed a whimper as she relived the memory, glancing warily at the discolored bottle. It was on top of her dresser in all its ancient glory, projecting an air of what she sensed was unbridled chaos. Since the events of that morning, she had decided not to let it out of her sight, lest it animated itself again. She was considering the possibility that she might actually be losing her mind when her phone rang, startling her so thoroughly that she yelped.

As she reached for her phone where it was plugged in on her nightstand, she glimpsed Kiel’s name on the glowing screen. She practically lunged at it, yanking it off of the charger and gasping his name with more desperation than she had intended.

“Frey? Is everything okay?” His typically lighthearted voice was laced with concern.

“Y-yeah, Kiel. I’m fine,” she lied, painfully aware that her quivering voice was betraying her. She took a deep breath and swallowed her pride. “Actually… do you have a minute to come over?”

“Sure! I’ll be there in five minutes,” he replied without hesitation.

Frey was eternally grateful to him when she opened the door precisely five minutes later. Dolce was at work and she couldn’t bear being alone right then, as frantic as she was feeling. She almost hugged him in relief but she restrained herself, biting her lip to stanch her tears. She cradled the distressing artifact in her trembling hands.

“Frey!” he exclaimed, sounding even more concerned than before. He shut the red door behind him and placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders, gazing into her eyes worriedly. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost! What’s wrong?”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that this week,” she breathed, surprising herself when she burst out laughing. Maybe she really was losing her mind. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Sit down and tell me what’s going on.” His voice was calming as he led her to the overstuffed green couch in the center of her living room, his hand supportively resting in the middle of her back. 

He sank down alongside her and cautiously reached for the bottle, but she involuntarily yanked it back, hugging it protectively against her chest. Her green eyes grew wide and her pulse hammered in her ears as she scooted away from Kiel, completely against her will. Her arms squeezed the bottle more tightly and she whimpered in horror and confusion. 

“Frey…” Kiel’s voice was gentle and calming, but she could clearly see the alarm reflected in his blue eyes. He laced his fingers together in his lap. “I won’t take it from you, I promise. Just tell me what’s happening.”

“I… I can’t really explain it.” She was so upset that her own voice sounded unfamiliar to her; she couldn’t remember the last time she had been so overwhelmed. She drew a slow, deep, shuddering breath. “When I found this bottle on the way home from work Tuesday night, I brought it home and showed Dolce. I got up for work the next morning and felt like I should hide it, so I put it in my closet, and…”

“It’s okay,” he soothed as she bit back a sob. He wore a gentle smile that spoke of his good nature. “Take as long as you need.”

“W-when I got to work, it was in my backpack. How does that even…? There’s no logical way--” She trailed off abruptly, shaking her head in a futile attempt to render this situation nonexistent.

Kiel’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, then, and she thought he must be suppressing his reaction out of kindness. Anyone else probably would have gaped at her in shock and checked her temperature, but he waited silently and patiently.

“I was already freaked out enough, b-but… this morning, I decided to leave it behind again to see what would happen. I locked it in a chest beneath my bed, and when I got to work…” She couldn’t finish her sentence and she swiped at her tears with one hand, huffing miserably.

“I admit that sounds…”

“Crazy? You can say it, Kiel. It is crazy.”

“It is, but I don’t think you are.” He sighed and looked uncertain, like he wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words--a rare moment for the human thesaurus. “The thing is… I figured out what the inscription says.”

“What does it say?” she gasped, leaning forward with tumultuous eyes. She was gripping the bottle so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“It says, ‘fire is a good servant, but a bad master.’” He seemed to study her carefully after those words left his mouth, somewhat tense. His lips were set in a thin line.

“‘Fire is a good servant, but a bad master,’” Frey repeated shakily, and she could have sworn the bottle shuddered in response and emanated warmth. She swallowed thickly, struggling to speak coherently. “What… what does that mean?”

“Well, it’s an old proverb… it basically means that fire is useful when controlled, but left unchecked, it’s dangerous.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, inhaling deeply before he spoke again. “However… in this case, I suspect the meaning is more literal.”

“What are you getting at?” she asked cautiously, staring at him pleadingly for an explanation. Her head hurt from clenching her jaw so harshly and for so long.

“I think the symbolic fire contained within that bottle is the servant, and whoever takes possession of it is the master. It’s a warning that the spirit dwelling within is inherently benevolent, but destructive if it’s handled irresponsibly.”

“A spirit,” she murmured, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. Her mouth went dry.

“I know this seems impossible, but…” He threw his hands up in the air and grinned wryly.

“Nothing seems impossible at this point, Kiel,” she mumbled weakly, managing to return his smile. All she could do was laugh at this point--at the lunacy of this entire situation.

“I think the spirit dwelling in that bottle is actually a djinn… a genie, if you will,” he continued, gazing into her eyes earnestly. “When you found it, it chose you as its master. That’s why it won’t leave your side.”

“But.. but what happened to its previous owner?” She could hardly squeeze the words out. She was nearly paralyzed with a mixture of shock and fear.

“Well, they must have used up all three of their wishes. That or they died, I guess.” He ran his hands through his disheveled hair and sighed, looking as astonished as she felt. “From what I read, those are the only two things that can separate the bond between the servant--the djinn--and the master, who is now you.”

“So I have to release the djinn from its bottle, use all three of my wishes, and then it will leave me alone?” she asked hesitantly, glancing down at the object in question. It struck such an intense, unidentifiable sensation in her heart that she had to look away.

“Theoretically. I’m so sorry that I can’t be more certain than that,” he responded apologetically. His eyes were brimming with sympathy for her.

“This can’t be real! I mean--” She suddenly found herself in fervent denial and she was practically shouting. “How have we never heard about this before?! If genies or djinns or whatever existed, someone would have reported it!”

“The only possibilities I can think of are pretty far fetched, but then, so is this entire situation. Maybe the previous masters’ wishes ended in their deaths. Or maybe it’s been such a long time since a djinn found a master that it’s ancient history. There are numerous accounts of djinns that were recorded hundreds of years ago, but nothing since.”

“Surely someone must have picked this bottle up between then and now… whoever put it out by the road, for one.” Her tone was becoming desperate. She wanted to set the bottle down, but her arms felt like lead.

“Bear with me… what if this djinn is selective about its masters? Maybe it gets to choose, and for some reason it chose you. Or alternatively, it’s fated to be entrusted to certain people.”

“Kiel… no way. I can’t handle this,” she insisted adamantly. “What if I just carry it around with me everywhere, concealed in my backpack, and never release it from the bottle?”

“I suspect the temptation will become too great over time,” he replied sympathetically. “It already seems to have bonded with you. You’re holding the bottle against your will right now, aren't you?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered as a single tear trailed down her cheek. She was crying more out of shock than anything. Her tranquil life had been moving along without a hitch until now.

“That probably happens when other people are nearby. I don’t think you have to keep holding it after I leave.” He sighed heavily, regarding her with friendly affection in his eyes. “Just don’t tell anyone else about the bottle. I’m sure there are many people out there who would love the opportunity to order a djinn around. It will be extremely dangerous if word gets out.”

“I wish it would have picked one of those people instead of me.” She suddenly felt so drained that she just wanted to crawl into her bed and sleep endlessly. Maybe when she woke up, this would all turn out to be a nightmare. “I think I’m going to go to bed. I appreciate you so much, Kiel. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Frey. If you need anything, even if it’s just company, let me know. And I promise to keep your secret safe.”

She followed him to the door, sniffling and unwillingly holding the bottle. Night had fallen and the porch light was on, bathing the front yard in an eerie glow. She shivered.

“Oh, and one more thing--if you do make a wish, word it extremely carefully. Legend has it that djinns grant the literal meaning of your wish, so if you aren’t careful… just please take care.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes regretfully. “I’m almost certain the djinn won’t reveal itself around other people, so unfortunately, I can’t be there to help you.”

“I’ll be okay.” She mainly spoke those three words in an attempt to convince herself.

Chapter Text

Frey rolled over in bed and readjusted her pillow for the umpteenth time that night. Huffing with exasperation, she yanked the sheet over her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel the power of the ancient, patinated bottle like it was emanating an electric pulse; its energy was palpable. Even though she had placed it across the room and draped a scarf over it--in a futile effort to dim its intimidating presence--her skin prickled with the sensation of being watched.

Several more minutes passed, punctuated by her near-constant tossing and turning, and she finally surrendered to the realization that she wouldn’t be sleeping that night. Sighing heavily, she blindly reached for the lamp next to her bed. It took her a moment to locate the dangling chain and pull it, and as soon as the light illuminated her room with a soft yellow glow, she recoiled like she had just been burned.

The bottle was on her nightstand.

“That’s it!” she nearly snarled, clawing her way out of bed. The thin strap on her blue nightgown slipped off of her shoulder and she angrily tugged it back into place. “If you want me to make a wish that badly, I’ll make a stupid wish!”

Her hands were trembling as she reluctantly held the object of her distress. Despite her bold words, she was almost paralyzed with fear. If it had this much power unopened, what would happen when she unleashed the spirit--djinn or otherwise--that was dwelling inside? Kiel was of the opinion that it had a benevolent nature, but there was no way to know for sure. What if he was wrong?

She was close to setting it back down, unable to summon the courage to open it, when it suddenly began to emanate heat again. Its rough surface grew even hotter than before, but not enough to scald her hands. Incensed, she grit her teeth and wrapped her fingers around the carved lid. She imagined the jackal was mocking her although its expression was as stoic as ever, and she pulled on it with all of her might. She grunted and ground her teeth with the effort.

Just as she was tempted to give up, straining her arms, the bottle depressurized with a satisfying pop. She stood, wide-eyed and shaking, holding the halves in separate hands. Nothing seemed amiss at first, but as she hastily set them down on her nightstand, the atmosphere surrounding her seemed to shift. It reminded her of static electricity--an initial shock followed by a tingling sensation--but instead of being isolated to one appendage, it engulfed her before gradually fading away.

She suddenly realized she was holding her breath and gasped, pressing her hands over her heart. She could feel it pounding and fluttering wildly beneath her clammy flesh. The room remained silent, eerily so, and still nothing emerged from the bottle. Her quivering eyes focused on it warily; she was terrified to avert her gaze in case it relocated again.

"Finally. You took your own sweet time, didn’t you?”

She spun around with a startled yelp and her panicked eyes darted across the room, seeking the owner of the mischief-laden voice. She gulped, swallowing thickly as her gaze settled upon the vague outline of an imposing figure. Her confusion heightened when she realized he was lounging casually in her chair, leaning back with one leg draped over the side. The other was stretched out in front of him and his arms rested lazily at his sides. His face was obscured by shadow, just outside of her lamp’s range.

“You’re--” She stuttered, immobilized with bewilderment. Her trembling lips formed words but no sound traveled between them.

“Before you speak, allow me to establish a few things: this isn’t a dream, I’m real, and I only grant one wish--so choose wisely.” His tone was completely different than what she had conjured up in her head. She had imagined the djinn would have a brusque, spine-chilling voice. His was pleasing to the ear and velvety, but he sounded… bored.

"J-just one?” She managed to reclaim her voice but struggled to maintain her composure, clasping her hands together to disguise how intensely they were shaking. “I thought there were always three."

"This modern-day genie nonsense complicates things every time. One. And I won't kill anyone or resurrect anyone, so don't bother asking." His weary sigh indicated that he had suffered through this conversation dozens of times. He produced a vibrant blue and green peacock fan, seemingly out of thin air, and tapped it against his knee repetitively.

"I'm actually relieved to hear that you only grant one. I can't even think of a single wish,” she replied honestly. While she had been trying to fall asleep, she had wracked her brain, unable to decide on anything that wouldn’t potentially complicate her simple life.

"Well, that's unexpected." His demeanor noticeably perked up and he shifted in the chair, lowering both sandaled feet to the carpeted floor. He leaned forward just enough that she could glimpse a smooth, tapered jaw and a lopsided smirk. Long, light blue hair spilled over his shoulders and pooled in his lap. "Surely you must desire something. Every human does. Riches, love, fame…"

"I don't want any of those things... I'm happy with my life the way it is." She shifted her weight anxiously, sensing that he was observing her intently. A shiver inched its way up her spine.

"Hm. I suppose I should have anticipated this, as stubborn and reluctant as you've been since you found me. Even still, I'm surprised, and nothing manages to surprise me anymore." He stood unhurriedly, then, and she gulped as the lamplight gradually revealed his unexpectedly attractive countenance. His striking cerulean eyes were significantly more mischievous than his voice sounded.

“You don't look anything like I expected." She strove to take a full breath, her chest tightening due to her renewed anxiousness. It had been easier to talk to him when his face was hidden, but now she could see how curiously he studied her.

"I have no doubt that I exceeded your expectations.” He smirked impishly, crossing his arms casually over his abdomen as he stepped into the light completely.

She was stunned to see that, although most of him appeared human, he possessed large, pointed ears and a fluffy tail that matched the shade of his hair. A white turban, embellished with golden accents, crowned his head. His lean, muscular torso was mostly bare, save the partial vest that scarcely covered his shoulders and back. A large belt was slung around his waist and various shades of elaborate cloth, trimmed with tassels, hung from his hips. He wore green pants which were loose around his legs and tapered at the ankles. Altogether, he truly was otherworldly.

She failed to suppress the nervous giggle that welled up in her throat, nor the risky question that followed. "Are all djinns so conceited?"

His smirk deepened and his intense eyes bored into hers, forcing her to glance away. "Interesting. No one has referred to me as a djinn in ages. It's always 'genie' now."

“My friend did some research,” she replied, deciding a simple explanation was best.

“Was that before or after you dropped my bottle?” He idly flicked his colorful fan open and closed as he stared at her pointedly.

She blushed hotly, narrowing her eyes at him. “That was your own fault, you know. You scared me, appearing in my backpack like that.”

“I had to attract your attention somehow. I’m bound to you until you make your wish.” He turned around and began to aimlessly pace the floor, fanning himself as he walked. He appeared to fidget with the fan out of restlessness, and something about the way he moved reminded her of a caged lion. “You’re the most stubborn human I’ve ever come into contact with, you know.”

"Over hundreds of years?" She stared at him incredulously. "I'm not sure if I should take that as an insult or a compliment."

The corner of his mouth tilted upward almost imperceptibly, but he didn't answer. "Let's resolve this so I can go back to sleep. Make your wish."

"So… what happens after that? Do you go back inside the bottle right away?" she asked curiously, wondering why he seemed so rushed. Surely he didn’t want to return to that dark, cramped receptacle.

"Yes. As swiftly as I left it.” He didn’t sound the slightest bit reluctant and continued to pace, retracing his steps since he had already covered her entire room.

"Isn't that… lonely?" She spoke softly, acutely aware that it was an invasive question. She couldn’t imagine enduring a reality like his, existing only to grant others’ wishes without reward.

He pivoted on his heel and shot her an odd look, tilting his head inquisitively. "I'm accustomed to it. I'm never free for more than a minute or two, normally. Almost everyone immediately wishes for money, and that's that."

"So... if I don't make a wish, what happens?" Just a few minutes ago, she wouldn’t have imagined that it was possible to feel somewhat comfortable around him, but she gradually began to relax. Kiel had definitely been correct regarding his temperament, at least so far.

"That, curious one, is a question I don't know the answer to,” he responded, staring across the room at her. He crossed his arms again and closed his fan, which came to rest on his hip. 

"Don't you want to find out?" She sank down on the edge of her bed, facing him with a somber expression, and absently fiddled with the hem of her nightgown. Somehow she had forgotten what she was wearing until that moment, and she felt herself flush.

"Not particularly. My sole purpose is to grant wishes. Nothing more." His inhumanly blue eyes belied his claim, if only briefly. He wanted to know, too, even if he was in denial of it.

"But you should at least enjoy being free for the moment… it’s dark right now, of course, but don’t you want to look up at the moon? See the stars?” Her tone was earnest and she hoped he would agree. At least then, when he was back in his bottle, maybe he would have something to look back on--and maybe she would feel less guilty about banishing him to it.

"Hah. Not only are you the most stubborn human I've ever come across, but you're also the most amusing… willing to delay your wish so I have the opportunity to enjoy the scenery." He shook his head slowly in disbelief.

"I just… I feel sorry for you," she admitted gently. "I can't imagine being trapped in a bottle most of the time."

"What?" His ears twitched with apparent annoyance and his tail flicked repetitively against the floor. He reminded her of an agitated cat. Even his eyes narrowed like those of a feline preparing to hiss and scratch. "Don't take pity on me. It's demeaning."

"I didn't mean to offend you,” she said apologetically, attempting to diffuse the situation. She had finally stepped over the line with her endless chattering.

"Then don't say such absurd things." He scoffed derisively, stiffening and placing a hand on his hip. “I'm an all-powerful djinn. I have no need for your sympathy."

"Hey, I was just trying to be nice.” She scooted off of the bed and stood, glowering openly at him before she considered the consequences. “You don't have to be so rude about it."

His eyes widened dramatically and he was obviously taken aback. He began to slowly close the distance between them, stopping several feet away and quirking an eyebrow. Much to her relief, his expression had transitioned seamlessly from anger to amusement. "Aren't you afraid to talk to me like that?"

"Umm…,” she mumbled, rendered speechless by his proximity. Up close, his unique appearance was overwhelming and dangerously captivating.

"And here I thought one of the first lessons humans learn is not to play with fire," he chuckled, snapping his fingers. An orange spark materialized out of thin air and hovered between his palms, and as he splayed his fingers apart and increased the distance between his hands, the writhing flame grew brighter and more volatile. He effortlessly cupped his palms around it like he was shaping it, and before her very eyes, it transformed into an undulating sphere of fire.

"I’m fine with just watching now," she breathed, awestruck. She eagerly stepped closer as it grew in magnitude, emitting an impressive amount of heat. It was impossible to glance away, even for a second.

"You should be more cautious, little moth,” he drawled, watching her attentively. The way the flickering flames reflected in his eyes, further increasing their intensity, was mesmerizing. 

Unpredictable shadows danced across the sharp angles of his face as he gradually pushed his hands toward one another, trapping the agitated sphere between them. The flames licked his fingers and seemed to be struggling against him, but he was obviously in control--his demeanor was calm and collected as he deprived the fire of oxygen, suffocating it between his palms, and it vanished without a single trace of smoke.

"Wow,” she gasped, meeting his eyes enthusiastically. Her pulse was racing with adrenaline. “What else can you do?"

"Heh, you're something else,” he chuckled, grinning down at her smugly. “I'm not here for your entertainment. Make your wish."

“But I still haven’t--” She jumped as they were interrupted by a sharp knock at her bedroom door. She glanced meaningfully at the djinn, who didn’t look the least bit concerned, before quickly crossing the room and placing her hand on the knob. “Dolce?”

“Who else would it be in the middle of the night?” Her pink-haired roommate sounded agitated as Frey opened the door. Her long tresses were slightly disheveled and she was wearing a lacy vintage nightgown that was considerably more elegant than Frey’s. “I thought I heard something out of place.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you to check on me, Dolce,” Frey cooed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to tolerate it--she needed to get her out of there, and fast.

“I suddenly regret it." Sure enough, she immediately grimaced and set her pale lips in a thin line. “I guess I just heard that annoying ghost again.”

“You still think there’s a ghost here? I haven’t noticed anything lately,” Frey replied quickly, willing Dolce not to peer inside her room.

“She only desires to torment me, for some reason,” Dolce groaned with a slight roll of her eyes. “Anyway, I’m going back to--Frey! What is that doing in our house?!”

Frey cringed and spun around, shocked that the djinn hadn’t bothered to hide himself, but she didn’t see him anywhere. Instead, a magnificently red fox was sprawled across the middle of her bed, yawning lazily as it closed its eyes.

Chapter Text

Frey hastily decided to pretend the motionless--was he sleeping?--fox had been there all along. It was difficult to resist bursting into laughter when Dolce was standing there wide-eyed and slack-jawed, an expression Frey was certain she would never witness from her stoic roommate again. A situation this strange would leave anyone reacting similarly, no matter how calm and collected they usually were. She was still in disbelief and freaking out internally, herself.

"Well… it's a long story,” Frey began hesitantly, mostly to buy herself time to come up with a believable explanation. She had to glance away from Dolce so she didn’t lose her composure.

"Start talking, then,” Dolce muttered as she took several steps toward the bed, observing the fox warily. She looked like she didn’t quite believe it was real.

"When I was walking home last night--" Frey began, moving to stand next to her. Her eyes landed upon the mystifying animal, as well, and she noticed how glossy and vibrant his coat was. He could pass for a wild fox, but he would definitely catch anyone’s attention.

"It's never a good sign when you lead with that,” Dolce interjected, shooting her a sidelong glance and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Dolce! Do you want me to tell you or not?" She huffed and put her hands on her hips, frowning annoyedly.

"Continue,” she deadpanned, apparently having recovered from her state of shock.

"I came across some abandoned furniture and stopped to see if any of it was salvageable, and then I noticed this poor fox scavenging for food. He followed me home and I felt sorry for him." As Frey spoke, the fox moved for the first time--the end of his fluffy tail flicked back and forth across the comforter, reminding her of when she had irritated the djinn earlier. He likely wasn’t fond of her story.

"He's a wild animal. You can't just bring him in the house." Dolce shook her head judgmentally and smoothed her lacy nightgown with a sharp sigh. Frey felt as if she were being scolded by her mother. "What are you going to feed him?"

"Um, I haven't exactly figured that out yet," she replied sheepishly, combing her hands through her hair.

"It's not like you can feed him dog food.” Dolce motioned exasperatedly toward the fox and dropped her hands back to her sides defeatedly.

"I know that!” Frey narrowed her eyes and frowned at her, but honestly, she hadn’t thought that far. Did he even need to eat? “I can... let him outside to hunt."

"And then he'll run away. You didn't think this through at all." Dolce shook her head again and turned around, starting to walk toward the door.

"If he does, then that's his choice,” Frey replied, following her. She was eager for her to leave so she could ask the djinn more questions--things just kept getting weirder and weirder.

"You're an odd one, Frey,” Dolce commented flatly as she stepped into the hallway.

"It takes one to know one,” Frey retorted at her back.

"I suppose it does," Dolce acquiesced, turning around and grinning subtly. "But now you're on another level."

"Ugh, fine. I admit this is a little much, but I'm sure he won't be around for long." Frey wasn’t positive whether that was true or not, at this point. She still couldn’t imagine what she would wish for, unless he was capable of granting something like world peace.

"Let’s hope not. I'm going to try and get some more sleep." She yawned daintily, pressing a delicate hand to her lips as she retreated down the hallway.

"Me, too. Sorry for waking you up,” Frey called apologetically. If the djinn ended up sticking around for another night, she would have to be more cautious.

"I forgive you… just this once,” Dolce muttered as she disappeared into her room.

Frey shut the door firmly behind her and quietly engaged the lock, then spun around to see that the fox had vanished. In its place, the djinn was lying on his side across her bed, leisurely propped up on his elbow. He was entertained, judging by the mischievous sparkle in his eyes and his apparently-characteristic lopsided grin.

“Scavenging for food? That’s the best you could come up with?”

"Geez! Are you trying to give me a heart attack so I'll die and you won't be bound to me anymore?" she whispered harshly, crossing the room to stand next to the bed. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at him.

"Surprisingly, I hadn't considered that yet. Now that you mention it, it's rather tempting.” He made no move to get up and he appeared as comfortable as if he were in his own bed.

"And why didn't you just hide instead of turning into a fox? Now my roommate thinks I'm crazy,” she continued, throwing her hands up in frustration. "Which is probably true, especially now."

"I shapeshift into a fox when anyone besides my master approaches, so get used to it if you're not going to make your wish anytime soon,” he replied pointedly, leaning his cheek against his fist.

“Umm… do you think you could call me something else?” She stood awkwardly before him as she felt a searing blush creep up her neck, hoping he didn’t take notice. She tried to casually drape her lengthy, mint-colored hair over her shoulders to help camouflage it.

“What, you don’t like being called master? I hear it’s popular in certain circles,” he drawled. The obnoxious grin that spread across his impossibly handsome face told her that, yes, he had definitely noticed.

“Not any circles that I’m in!” She immediately realized her flustered reaction was a mistake because his fiery eyes lit up wickedly and his unnerving grin grew wider.

“Actually, as my master…” He paused dramatically, his expression roguish. “You could request that I call you something else. Remember that I do have free will, though, for the most part. I’m not obligated to agree. In fact, I think I’ll continue calling you master just to watch you sweat.”

“How about you just call me Frey?” she asked pleadingly, biting her lip. There was no way she could endure being called ‘master’ for however long this lasted.

“Master Frey it is,” he chuckled, half-lidded eyes brimming with mirth.

She sighed hopelessly and shot him a petulant look before deciding that her best bet was to change the subject. "Why a fox?"

"Every djinn is capable of shapeshifting into the animal that most closely matches their personality,” he explained, smoothly sitting up. His cyan hair was so long that it still grazed the bed, even when he sat upright on the edge of it.

"Hmm… that makes sense, then--sneaky, mischievous, cunning." She emphasized each word without relinquishing his gaze, and he stared back at her amusedly in response.

"'I prefer sly." He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his fists. He seemed to be fond of languid positions, always lounging this way or that. “So, tell me more about yourself. Maybe it will spark an idea for your wish.”

“Um… most of my life revolves around gardening. Not very exciting to most, but I love it," she replied, suddenly feeling shy. She didn't talk about herself very often.

“Ah, then I’ve got it: wish for every plant you touch to flourish." His confident expression said he was absolutely certain this was the solution, that it was the obvious choice, but she cringed and shook her head quickly.

“That’s cheating. If everything grew perfectly without any effort, I’d never be fulfilled again. It’s satisfying to see the results of my labor.” She stood with one hand grasping her opposite elbow, shifting her weight uncomfortably as he studied her with an air of impatience.

“Hm. How noble.” He tapped his long fingers against his chin thoughtfully, and then the corner of his mouth tilted up like he was reconsidering something. “I can’t figure you out and it’s extremely frustrating, but also exciting.”

“Exciting?” she asked, confusion evident in her voice. She hadn't expected this reaction at all. Just moments before, it had seemed like he was fed up with her indecision.

“My existence is fairly dull," he responded flatly. Now his expression was stoic, his lips closing in a straight line. She was starting to think that maybe his identifying animal should be a chameleon instead of a fox.

“So you are bored." She spoke impassively, careful to avoid sounding pitying.

He still glowered at her, but he seemed more sullen than angry. He lifted his chin from his hands and studied her openly, tilting his head to one side. She had never felt more exposed. Apparently djinns weren't familiar with certain etiquette, like how long to maintain eye contact.

"Why are you anxious to return to your bottle if you think your existence is dull? Isn't it more interesting to be outside of it?" She was curious to hear his answer, but she was also hoping to distract him from staring at her so intensely. That tactic seemed to be successful because he glanced away pensively.

"One afternoon a fox was walking through the forest and spotted a bunch of grapes hanging from over a lofty branch.

'Just the thing to quench my thirst,' he said.

Taking a few steps back, the fox jumped and just missed the hanging grapes. Again the fox took a few paces back and tried to reach them but still failed.

Finally giving up, the fox turned up his nose and said, 'They're probably sour anyway,' and proceeded to walk away."

"One of Aesop's fables…" She thought for a moment before realization dawned on her and it was clear how well the fable related to his situation. She felt sorry for him again, but she did her best to conceal it. "You pretend to despise that which is beyond your reach."

He gazed at her meaningfully and she had the feeling he had accepted his fate long ago. “So it stood the test of time. That fable was well-known when I was a boy. Now, once again, about your wish…"

“Wait… you were human once?” she gasped, unable to withhold her shock. She had never considered that djinns might be created from humans.

“So many centuries ago that it’s of little importance," he replied tersely, and it was obvious that he was completely opposed to discussing it. "Stop trying to change the subject.”

“Actually, I really need to sleep,” she said reluctantly. After that last revelation, there were dozens more questions she wanted to ask him, but she doubted he would budge anyway. “I have to get up for work soon, and I’m sure it’s going to be a busy day. Fridays always are.”

“Excuses, excuses. What am I supposed to do all day?" Now he looked annoyed and impatient again, sighing heavily. "I can’t return to my bottle until you make a wish, and I’m too conspicuous to leave the house.”

“Well… why don’t you come along in your fox form? We’ll pretend you’re my pet," she suggested, biting the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't laugh. He was looking at her like she had just slapped him across the face.

“Your pet,” he growled, crossing his arms resistantly. He was actually sulking and she was surprised to see a blush stain his cheeks. "I see you've fully embraced your title of master."

“Unless you’d rather sit in my room all day…” She shrugged and looked down at him knowingly. As restless as he was outside of his bottle, he would be doing little more than pacing her room if he stayed behind. 

He sighed resignedly and narrowed his eyes at her, and then as quickly as she blinked, the fox was perched on the bed in his place. He curled up and closed his eyes, wrapping his furry tail around himself and tucking his snout beneath it. Even in this form, he still appeared to be sulking.

Frey barely resisted stroking his soft coat--she had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it, especially after she referred to him as her pet--and crawled back into bed. No sooner had her head hit the pillow than she was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

When Frey sat up in bed the following morning, she was sure it had all been a dream--the bottle, the djinn, and the fox. It was some elaborate story her sleeping brain had concocted on a whim, probably because she liked to stay up past her bedtime reading fantasy novels. Yes, this was definitely a sign that she needed a healthier amount of sleep.

She crawled out of bed sluggishly, stretching and yawning loudly as she stood up. When she reached for her phone so she could turn off the shrill alarm she had set for 7:00 AM, it took her several moments to register the significance of the antique bottle that was next to it. She rubbed her eyes and looked again, just in case she was imagining things, and then she abruptly snapped out of her fatigue-induced stupor.

“Do all humans sleep as erratically as you do?”

She gasped sharply and spun in place, causing her long tresses to whip wildly around her. She hadn’t even noticed him across the room, lounging in her chair exactly as he had the night before, but this time his face wasn’t obscured by shadow. His provocative smirk was clearly visible as the early morning light streamed through her window. “Why do you insist on startling me?!”

“My apologies, Master Frey.” He stood unhurriedly, crossing his arms over his bronze chest, and she noticed his lengthy tail was swinging back and forth almost playfully. She wondered if he always had this much attitude or if he was just set on irritating her for some reason. He probably didn’t have the chance to tease people very often and he was fully taking advantage of the opportunity. “Would you feel more at ease if I wore bells around my neck? I am your pet now, after all.”

“Just Frey!” she groaned, stomping around her bed to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest, mirroring him sassily. That only served to encourage him further, judging by the lopsided grin that instantly appeared. “And why were you watching me sleep?”

“It was impossible not to, with the way you were thrashing around. I was curious whether or not you would end up on the floor,” he replied flippantly, uncrossing his arms and placing one hand upon his elaborately-attired hip. The golden embellishments glinted in the sunlight and his azure eyes bored attentively into hers as he awaited her response.

“Hmph!” She frowned grouchily and stared right back, striving to match his intensity. Her show of defiance undoubtedly fueled his impishness but she couldn’t resist snapping back at him. “Didn’t you sleep at all, or did you just entertain yourself by watching me?"

“I have no need for sleep. Nor food, for that matter.” His tone was impassive and she didn’t detect the slightest bit of melancholy in his voice.

“Meaning you can’t sleep or eat, or you just don’t have to?” She found herself intensely curious, unable to fathom it. Her annoyance was quickly forgotten and she stepped closer, tilting her head questioningly.

“I lack both the ability and the desire,” he answered matter of factly, producing his vibrant peacock fan out of thin air. She had witnessed it a couple of times now, but it still managed to startle her and she momentarily lost her train of thought. 

“So… a pet that doesn’t need any care?” she asked teasingly once she regained her composure, watching him turn the feathered accessory over in his hands.

"Would you prefer that I did?" He had projected an air of indifference only seconds before, but somehow his eyes had turned sultry without missing a beat. His lips formed those words so suggestively that she instantly blushed in reaction to the tone of his voice.

"Er... not exactly…” She froze and struggled to look away, squirming beneath the intensity of his gaze. He briefly camouflaged his mouth with his fan and when he revealed it again, another telltale smirk had bloomed across his face. He was toying with her and she knew it, but that didn’t make it any less unnerving. “A-anyway, I need to get ready. Wait here."

"Ah, more waiting… yes, why not? I do have all the time in the world, after all,” he drawled derisively. He snapped the fan closed and tapped it against the side of his jaw as he stared at her glumly.

When they left the house, the djinn disguised as a fox, she could tell his senses were overwhelmed. His pointy ears were twitching to and fro, picking up on every sound, and his alert greenish-yellow eyes immediately examined anything that moved--birds hopping in the grass by the mailbox, a pair of butterflies dancing around the azaleas, windswept leaves unpredictably skittering across the sidewalk in front of them. He stopped momentarily when a beam of sunlight peeked out from behind a dusting of clouds, appearing to savor its warmth. She wondered how many years it had been since he basked in it.

He stayed near her, just a few short steps ahead and to her left, skirting the edge of the sidewalk nearest the road. She had warned him about cars before they left and he mentioned having seen them before, but only briefly through the windows of previous masters. He didn’t seem concerned about the potential dangers of the outside world, barely glancing at the light stream of traffic that passed, and she didn’t know if he was incapable of being injured or just reckless.

“We’re almost there. Stick close to me, okay? And whatever you do, don’t act aggressive.” She looked down at him as he turned his head and glanced at her with a peculiar glint in his eyes. Even in this form, he exuded an air of mischief and she hoped he wouldn’t cause any trouble.

She pushed the front door open and held it for him, and as he trotted past her, he flicked his tail against her leg. Because he couldn’t speak now, he was probably trying to find subtle ways to irritate her, and she rolled her eyes at him. He seemed pleased, wagging his fluffy red tail back and forth as she motioned for him to follow her into the break room.

“Are you going to do that every time?” she hissed as they stepped through the door and he slapped her with his tail again. When he turned to look up at her, she could have sworn that he was wearing an almost imperceptible grin. She reached down to tap him on the head in retaliation, but he hopped backward agilely.

“Maybe this was a bad idea. You’re going to bug me like this all day, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically as she hung up her backpack. When she turned around again, he was sitting on the floor and swishing his tail in a way that suggested impatience.

She shook her head at him as she opened the door again, anticipating the flick of his tail, but he didn't touch her. She suspected that he was mainly tempted to poke at her when she wasn’t expecting it, preferring the element of surprise. There was no chance that she would let him out of her sight any time soon.

“Aww! What are you doing here?!” Amber’s voice cooed as she rounded the corner, and Frey quickly moved to stand next to the now-wary fox. He had flattened his ears and his tail was swinging low to the ground, brushing the concrete floor.

“I found him yesterday and he’s been following me ever since,” Frey explained hastily, and then she realized she had the perfect chance to annoy him right back. She patted him on the head, causing him to stiffen, and she raised her voice cheerfully. “Isn’t he cute? I didn’t have the heart to turn him away.”

“He’s adorable,” Amber gushed, clasping her hands in front of her chest. Her gray eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Do you think he’ll let me pet him?”

“He seems to love being petted.” Frey glanced down at him and his furry ears flattened further, causing her to bite back a grin. Revenge was even sweeter than she expected.

“Oh my gosh, really?!” Amber knelt in front of him and smiled, extending her hand to scratch him between his ears, and Frey suppressed a snicker as his tail drooped dramatically. “Aww, I could just pet you all day!”

“What’s going on here? Why aren’t you two--” Illuminata had appeared, apparently to scold them for being absent from their stations right before they opened. Her reprimand was soon forgotten as she spotted the fox, and her eyes sharpened like they always did when she was overanalyzing. “Stand back! Where did this animal come from?!”

“He came with me, Lumie! No need to worry.” Frey smiled reassuringly as she crouched down next to Amber, resting a hand on his back. “See? He’s tame. He’s been following me around since yesterday.”

“There’s something strange about this fox,” Illuminata declared, making a show of observing him as she stalked closer. “Let me examine him! I’ll determine if it’s safe or not.”

“Er…,” Frey started, unsure of how to defend him without seeming overprotective. Illuminata would surely notice anything that sounded fishy. The aspiring detective hadn’t successfully solved any mysteries that she could remember, but she was observant--Frey would give her that.

“Please let him stay, Lumie!” Amber pleaded, stroking the back of his neck. Several wild animals had wandered into Carnation’s over the years and she was always the one who insisted on taking care of them. She had once tried to convince Illuminata to adopt a temperamental opossum as their official mascot. “Look how sweet he is!”

“He’s a perfect specimen… suspiciously so.” Illuminata ignored Amber and tilted her head as she adjusted the monocle enhancing her left eye. She knelt alongside them and thoughtfully held her hand to her chin, squinting. “His coat is well-groomed and shiny, suggesting that he hasn’t wandered here from the woods. He’s too tolerant of us to be a wild fox… hmm…”

The fox in question was growing increasingly agitated and Frey felt him bristle beneath her hand. Despite how aggravating he had been all morning, she was starting to feel guilty for exposing him to scrutiny. He definitely wasn’t accustomed to this much attention, much less being touched, and it probably wasn’t a pleasant experience. She patted him comfortingly, hoping he recognized that she was apologetic.

“It’s almost as if he’s not a real fox at all. There’s only one possibility,” Illuminata continued, and Frey tensed. There was no way she could possibly know, was there? She never managed to actually solve anything, although the eccentric redhead was convinced that she was the town’s best detective. “He’s the ghost that’s been haunting the supply room!”

“Uh... Lumie…” Frey grinned awkwardly, secretly relieved. She released the breath she had been holding. “If he’s the ghost, then why is he letting us see him and touch him? That doesn’t really make any--”

“To throw us off his trail, of course! He knew I was going to discover him at any moment, so now he’s revealed himself directly under my nose.” Iluminata placed her hands on her hips triumphantly as she stood back up, smirking down at him. “But you can’t fool me! Not such a clever fox, now, are you?”

“Lumie,” Frey repeated, struggling to suppress a giggle. Her boss never appreciated being laughed at, especially not when she was investigating. “I found him on the way home. He wasn’t even hanging around Carnation’s.”

“That doesn’t mean a thing. I’m sure he can appear here and there at will.” Illuminata had no idea how correct she was about that particular detail, at least when he was inhabiting the bottle. “He’s a trickster, all right.”

“How about we do an experiment?” Amber spoke up so eagerly that Frey imagined a lightbulb appearing over her head. The smaller woman practically jumped to her feet and tucked her bright green hair behind her ears. “If we keep our eyes on the fox all day but the ghost still appears in the supply room, we’ll know he’s not the culprit!”

“Hmm... it never hurts to gather more evidence.” Illuminata continued to stare suspiciously at the fox, but she appeared to be considering Amber’s suggestion. She crossed her arms and tapped one foot restlessly. “I’ll give him one chance. Don’t let him out of your sight or I won’t be able to clear him as a suspect.”

“He’ll stick by me,” Frey assured her, but she was mostly saying it to remind the fox not to wander off. “I’ll make sure he’s accounted for at all times.”

“Good. Don’t fail me, Frey!” Illuminata exclaimed before glancing down at her watch. “Now both of you, get to work! We open in five minutes.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, and the fox huffed dramatically as he slumped beneath the outdoor table she was working at. She was repotting seedlings that had grown too large for their old containers and were almost ready to sell. “I shouldn’t have encouraged Amber to pet you. That was probably degrading.”

She glanced under the table and he narrowed his yellow eyes as if to say, ‘Yeah, you think?’ The white end of his fluffy tail tapped the ground testily, and he rested his head upon his black paws. She racked her brain for another way to apologize, but obviously he didn’t like to be petted, and he couldn’t eat or drink. He was bored and restless, though, so maybe she could find something interesting for him to do when they left.

The morning was busy, as expected, and it was time for her break before she knew it. The fox had spent most of his time hiding nearby as she worked, presumably avoiding the threat of further affection, and she didn’t blame him. He moved stealthily and stayed low to the ground when he followed her to the break room.

She held the door open for him and he slinked through. No one else was inside, luckily, so she didn’t have to worry about him for the time being. She grabbed water from the fridge, which only took a couple of seconds at the most, but it was enough time for the fox to transform back into the djinn and sit at the table soundlessly. He was leaning on it with his chin in one hand when she turned around, staring gloomily at her.

“I said I was sorry,” she sighed, sinking into the hard plastic chair opposite him. She fiddled with the cap on her water bottle as she met his narrowed eyes sincerely. “How can I make it up to you?”

“A suitable apology for the humiliation I endured is beyond your capabilities, I’m afraid.” He idly tapped his fingers on the table, regarding her glumly. He definitely had a penchant for the dramatic. “And I can hold a grudge for years. Hundreds of them, in fact.”

“Wait, I have an idea. How about--” She stopped speaking mid-sentence when his ears abruptly twitched to one side and he disappeared seamlessly into the air. She felt the fox sitting beneath the table near her feet, and several seconds later, the door opened and Illuminata burst inside.

“Where’s the fox?!” she shouted exuberantly, and Frey knew that look--it was the look of Detective Illuminata solving another mystery, at least in her own mind.

“He’s here,” Frey answered hesitantly. She stared at her unpredictable boss with wide, bewildered green eyes. “He’s been with me the entire time. Why?”

“Because I just saw the ghost with my own two eyes! The fox was a decoy! The mystery is solved!” the redhead cried gleefully. Her intensity was jarring.

“Umm…” Frey started to ask for more details but Illuminata sprang back outside as quickly as she had entered, slamming the door shut behind her.

Before Frey could blink, the djinn was once again sitting across from her with a mysterious look on his face. His thoughtful gaze drifted across the room and he seemed to be listening intently before settling his blue eyes back on her. "Heh, that's interesting. The entity that haunts your house made its way here. I wonder why…"

"Wait… what?" She leaned forward and held her breath, convinced she had misheard him even though he always spoke exceptionally clearly. She fidgeted with an uneven nail that she had broken while relocating flower pots.

"The ghost your roommate mentioned last night,” he clarified, as casually as one would describe the weather. Despite the nonchalant tone of his voice, she suspected he was entertained due to the sudden glint in his eyes. “Normally spirits won't change locations like that, unless they're tethered to something… or someone."

"Y-you saw it in my house? And you can sense that it's here now?" she asked incredulously, searching his face for any hint of deception. Something akin to mischief graced his striking features, as always, but she didn’t think he was lying.

"You're sitting next to a djinn and you're surprised by the existence of ghosts?" He arched an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, smiling subtly at her.

"You have a point, but… geez. My life is never going to be normal again, is it?” She sighed and worried her lip, surprised to see his eyes soften momentarily.

"Now, now, take it easy. Any memories involving me will be revoked once I’m gone, so you don’t have to fret about it for long.” His tone was calming, even soothing to her ears, but then he crossed his sinewy arms behind his head and grinned. "Depending on how much longer you delay your wish, however, you may have to endure a substantial amount of sleepless nights."

“But what if I tell someone? Or write it down?” She furrowed her brows and stared intently at him, seeking to understand.

“You’re welcome to try,” he chuckled, gazing challengingly across the table at her. “You’re bound by magic that prevents you from sharing what you know, in any shape or form, until you make your wish. And afterward, any memories you have of this little adventure will cease to exist.”

“But… okay, let’s just say I wished to be rich like most people do--I’d suddenly have more money than I knew what to do with, and I’d have no idea where it came from?”

"Think about it. Have you ever seen proof of genies existing in modern times? Have you heard of everyday people amassing fortunes out of the blue? When someone wishes for money, the world is rearranged in subtle ways so it appears to come from a legitimate source. Then false memories are fabricated as necessary and everyone goes about their lives none the wiser."

"So I'll forget everything about making a wish..." She attempted to wrap her head around it, but as with everything she had heard in the last few days, it was impossible to come to terms with. "Even you?"

"Of course." His cerulean eyes flickered across her face and he appeared to be deciphering her tense expression. "You seem considerably more reluctant to make your wish, upon learning that particular bit of information."

"It's just…" She nibbled her lip and glanced down at the table, running her finger over a worn spot where the surface had been chipped. "I don't like the idea of being forced to forget things."

"But especially me… that's understandable." He wore a smug expression when she snapped her head up to glare at him. Before she could deny it, his ears flicked toward the door and he vanished in the blink of an eye. She could feel the fox’s tail lightly brush her leg beneath the table.

"H-hey, um…," Amber stuttered as she opened the door and popped her head in. She looked paler than normal and Frey quickly rose to her feet in concern. "You're going to want to see this."

Chapter Text

“Amber, what’s wrong?” Frey followed her through the break room door hastily, swallowing the lump in her throat. She almost forgot about the fox and glanced at him apologetically when she turned around to hold the door.

“I-I’m not even sure how to explain it.” Amber’s voice quivered slightly as she led Frey around the corner and into the center of Carnation’s, wringing her small hands together anxiously. “Lumie put a sign on the front door saying we’re closed for the day. Thankfully all of our customers had left for lunch before this happened.”

Frey gasped at the chaotic scene before her, freezing in her tracks as she tried to rationalize it. Nearly every surface--the floors, the walls, and even the sides of planters--displayed scrawled, cryptic messages. They appeared to have been scribbled with purple chalk and some of them were accented with surprisingly cheerful doodles, such as stars and flowers.

The most mind boggling detail of all was the content of the messages. Almost all of them mentioned her quirky roommate, and stranger still, they used her nickname--which Dolce hated. Only her parents referred to her as Dolly and Frey highly doubted anyone else in town was familiar with it. What in the world was going on, and how could this week possibly get any weirder?

"Er…," Frey began, but she couldn't organize her thoughts enough to speak coherently. Amber had turned around to look at her hopefully, like she might be able to offer comforting words or some sort of explanation, but Frey merely threw her hands up in confusion.

"This has to be a prank, right? Is it April Fool's Day already?" Amber glanced around the room warily and fiddled with the beaded pink bracelet that adorned her wrist. Her gray eyes conveyed her bewilderment and her thin eyebrows slanted worriedly.

"Not quite," Frey murmured, staring down at the fox who was sitting calmly next to her. Surely he didn't have anything to do with this--she hadn't let him out of her sight for a single moment all morning, and apparently the messages had appeared while they were both in the break room. "It's only March 28th. We still have a few days."

"Then why…?" Amber trailed off and glanced toward the supply room, beginning to shuffle in that direction. "Let's go talk to Lumie. Maybe she's found another clue."

Frey followed hesitantly and looked to the fox for insight as he trotted alongside her. He met her eyes steadily, but unsurprisingly, she couldn't glean anything from his passive expression. When they reached the supply room, he trailed her closely as she stepped inside behind Amber.

As expected, Illuminata was examining every inch of the room with an oversized magnifying glass. She crouched here and there, presumably looking for footprints--what kind of ghost left footprints?--and then she focused her sights on the metal shelves lining the walls. Frey had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate the interruption, but this was a special situation.

"Do you have any idea what's going on yet?" Frey looked around the fairly organized room, trying to determine if anything was missing or out of place. When she had claimed to see a ghost in the supply room a couple of days before, she had fabricated the story in order to redirect Illuminata's attention. Now that there was an actual ghost, according to the djinn, Frey was thoroughly flabbergasted.

"I deduced that the ghost is a child, based on the frequent mentions of a dolly in most of the messages," Illuminata began, and Frey didn't have a chance to correct her before she carried on matter of factly. "Perhaps she lost her favorite dolly here as a child and she can't cross to the other side until she finds it."

"That's so sad," Amber whimpered, slight shoulders sagging. “Her dolly must have meant so much to her!”

“Hold on a second.” Frey spoke up before Amber grew anymore despondent, patting her soothingly on the shoulder. “Dolce might kill me for telling you guys this, but under the circumstances--”

“You’re correct. I will kill you,” replied a familiar, exasperated voice from the far end of the room. Dolce appeared from behind the shelves and frowned at her before sighing resignedly. “My parents call me Dolly, but no one else besides Frey knows that.”

“And considering that several of the messages say things like ‘This is Dolly’s favorite flower’ or ‘Dolly considers you all friends,’ it would make more sense that it’s referencing her instead of a doll,” Frey mused. She noticed that Dolce glanced away, attempting to disguise her blush. “Do you really feel that way, Dolly? Err, I mean Dolce!”

“Of course not.” Dolce’s blush deepened and she turned completely around, facing away from the group as they stared at her in surprise. In Frey’s experience, when Dolce’s typically pallid cheeks turned pink, she didn’t want to admit something. “And if this is the work of a spirit, why would--”

“Is everyone okay?” a concerned voice called through the door before it swung open. Sheriff Forte, in her crisp blue uniform with her long blonde ponytail trailing behind her, surveyed the room cautiously as she entered. She looked satisfied that everyone was unharmed and there was no sign of an assailant.

“I have this under control, Forte,” Illuminata insisted as she approached her. “No need to get involved.”

“It’s my responsibility to investigate any crimes, and if there’s someone vandalizing local businesses, I need to catch them immediately.” Forte’s voice was stern and determined, causing Illuminata to reluctantly shut her mouth. “Amber, when you called, you said this happened during lunchtime and there were no customers present. Are you sure they all left?”

“I think so…” Amber looked uncertain and slightly guilty for failing to be more helpful. “I always pay attention to customers in case they need help, and I don’t remember seeing anyone right before this happened.”

“Whoever did this timed it perfectly, so they must have been lying in wait,” Forte replied, looking thoughtful. “Which employees were present when this happened?”

“Myself, of course, as well as Amber and Frey,” Illuminata answered, but then she abruptly snapped her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at Dolce. “Aha! Wait a minute. Dolce showed up just before I noticed the graffiti.”

“Why would I go to all of that trouble to write embarrassing messages about myself?” Dolce asked flatly, crossing her slender arms over her chest.

“Also, some of the messages are too high up for anyone to reach. There’s no way Dolce--or anyone, for that matter--could manage it without a ladder... unless they can fly.” She giggled softly before she realized that wasn’t outside the realm of possibility anymore, and then she anxiously chewed her lower lip.

“So the culprit could be someone exceptionally tall.” Illuminata tapped her chin, wearing a confident smirk. “Forte, who is the tallest citizen you know, and do they have a criminal record?”

Forte almost laughed before she apparently recognized that the redhead was serious, and then she abruptly cleared her throat. “Um… there’s no one nearly that tall in Selphia.”

“Aha, an outsider! You should ask surrounding towns for lists of their tallest inhabitants!” Illuminata exclaimed, obviously pleased with her reasoning. Everyone else was stunned into silence.

“Er, of course… I’ll do that,” Forte responded awkwardly. She shifted her attention to the pink-haired woman, who at this point looked extremely impatient and frustrated. “Were you here to shop, Dolce?”

Dolce hesitated, apparently reluctant to answer, and a blush once again dusted her pale skin. “Frey left her lunch in our kitchen, so I thought I’d bring it to her... I didn’t realize she was on break yet, so I walked back to the vegetable garden where she usually works.”

“I was wondering where that got off to,” Frey groaned, cringing. Her newly chaotic life was making her scatterbrained. She quickly recovered and smiled brightly at her roommate, causing her blush to deepen. “You’re so sweet to bring it to me!”

“It’s not like it’s very far,” Dolce grumbled, staring down at the floor like it had suddenly attracted her interest.

“And then what happened? Was the graffiti there when you returned to the front?” Forte asked, ignoring the sideline conversation and regarding Dolce seriously. Her light eyebrows were furrowed and her lips were set in a thin line.

“Yes, Illuminata and Amber had just discovered it,” Dolce responded evenly, to which Forte looked mystified.

“Okay, wait. I’m confused,” Frey interjected, shaking her head as her wide eyes drifted over the group. The fox was so quiet, observing them from the corner, that she had almost forgotten he was there. “I thought we were all in agreement that a ghost is responsible for this. Didn’t you see it, Lumie?”

“Did… did you say a g-ghost?” Forte stammered. Her left eye twitched nervously and she shifted her weight from side to side.

“Good going, Frey,” Illuminata groaned, shaking her head exasperatedly. “I was withholding that information from her on purpose.”

“Oh… oops.” Frey rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, glancing apologetically at Forte before turning back to Illuminata. “So you just made all of that up for her benefit?”

“Of course! Did you really think I believed an abnormally tall person was responsible for the graffiti?” Illuminata scoffed.

“Well…” Frey trailed off before she accidentally replied truthfully. That was exactly the type of thing Lumie would believe.

“I was trying to send Forte on a long, fruitless errand so she wouldn’t be present while we continued investigating the ghost. Now my plans are foiled,” Illuminata sighed.

“H-hold on. Let me make sure I’m following this correctly.” Forte gulped and glanced around the room warily, probably worried that the ghost in question was going to pop out at her. “You saw a g-ghost… and you believe it’s responsible for the graffiti?”

“Precisely,” Illuminata replied, back to business. “After the graffiti appeared, I ran to the supply room--where Frey thought she saw a ghost earlier this week--and I saw a transparent figure float behind this shelf and vanish.”

“O-okay…” Forte appeared to be stunned speechless and her skin noticeably paled. She steadied herself by placing her hand on the door frame.

“How about you take a break, Forte? Come sit down and have some water.” Amber placed a comforting hand on the sheriff’s arm, and the blonde complied without resistance as she was led away.

“Well, this entire investigation has gone down the tubes.” Illuminata sighed wearily and shook her head, once again deploying her comically large magnifying glass. “Give me some space so I can continue without more interruptions.”

Dolce grabbed Frey’s lunch box off of a shelf, where she had apparently left it during the chaos, and handed it to her as they left the room with the fox in tow. Dolce glanced down at him before smirking subtly at Frey. “I can’t believe he’s still following you around.”

“I guess he likes me,” Frey shrugged, making light of it to take the attention off of him. His tail flicked against her leg again when Dolce turned away, and Frey barely resisted the urge to shove him with her foot.

“What a strange morning,” Dolce sighed, examining the erratic graffiti as they walked by it. “I’m still not convinced this has anything to do with me, but the messages appearing out of thin air… it’s unexplainable.”

“Wait, Dolce! I just remembered something,” Frey gasped, and suddenly everything made sense… well, as much sense as it could make considering the current situation. “Someone told me--er, I read somewhere--that spirits sometimes tether themselves to people or things.”

“Okay… and?” Dolce questioned impassively. She tucked a strand of pink hair behind her ear, bumping the cross-shaped earring that dangled from it.

“You keep thinking there’s a ghost haunting our house, right?” Frey gazed into her maroon eyes meaningfully, grasping her shoulders and shaking her lightly. “What if it’s tethered to you and that’s why, as soon as you showed up, the graffiti appeared? Especially since it used your nickname!”

Dolce stared blankly at her, blinking slowly, and then her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chapter Text

“Look at this mess,” the djinn drawled, clucking his tongue. He stood next to her with his arms crossed, gazing out over the sea of scribbled purple messages and doodles.

Since he had masqueraded as a fox for the majority of the day, she had to reaccustom herself to how captivating he was. Not only was his appearance otherworldly, but the way he moved and spoke was so unique that she still had trouble comprehending him. She felt hyperaware when he was this close to her.

“It’s going to take Lumie, Amber and I hours to clean this up,” Frey groaned, trying to decide where to start. The sheer volume of the task at hand was overwhelming. “Too bad you have to return to your fox form when they get back, otherwise I’d make you help--since you’re clearly so amused.”

“Oh, do you require assistance? I could be persuaded.” He didn’t bother to turn his head, merely glancing down at her from the corner of his lively eyes. 

“I’m not going to waste my wish on this. I’m no stranger--” She grunted as she lifted a large bucket of warm, soapy water and began to lug it across the room. “--to hard work.”

“You don’t need to use your wish. In fact, you don’t even need to ask.” She could practically hear the smirk he undoubtedly wore as he watched her struggle.

“Um… I’m not following,” she panted, setting the bucket down too heavily and causing sudsy water to slosh over the edge. She stepped aside to avoid getting her shoes wet, then looked back at him with a frustrated grimace. “Why don’t you just--”

He firmly held a finger to her unsuspecting lips and she nearly jumped, staring at him dazedly. It felt like there was energy humming beneath his skin and it made her mouth tingle oddly, even after he pulled away. “Ah-ah-ah. Don’t directly ask me for anything, with the exception of your wish. If I do any favors for you, it has to be of my own free will.”

“H-hey! That kind of stung.” She pressed her lips together and glared at him, puzzled by the unfamiliar sensation as it gradually dissipated. “So... how are you supposed to know what I need if I can’t ask?”

“It’s not difficult to perceive,” he replied breezily, fanning himself with the colorful accessory that had once again materialized out of nowhere.

“Okay… so are you going to…?” She trailed off and tilted her head quizzically, holding her hands out to her sides.

“Not yet.” His inscrutable gaze lingered on a cluster of orange tiger lilies that crowded the center of the room.

“What do you mean, not yet?” she asked impatiently, struggling to dampen her aggravation.

“I specifically said that I could be persuaded.”

“Um... what does it take to persuade a djinn?”

“Hmm, that’s an intriguing question.” His azure eyes gradually drifted across the room and back to her, followed by a beguiling smirk.

“Oh, geez…” She was about to hang her head in defeat and start scrubbing, but then she remembered her idea from that morning. “Hey! Earlier, when I was thinking of ways to apologize to you…”

“Ah, yes. I assumed you had conveniently forgotten,” he said pointedly and with a disgruntled look, idly tapping the fan against his chest.

“We kept getting interrupted. And then I did forget, but now I remembered! That counts for something, right?” She smiled brightly and with purpose, aiming to dissolve his skepticism.

“I’m listening…” He expectantly tilted his head to one side, gazing intently down at her through his thick lashes, and her cheeks burned against her will.

“I thought you might like to go to the library and pick out some books, so you can read at night…” She paused, suddenly worried that her offer wouldn’t be sufficient, and fiddled with the squishy yellow sponge she held in her hands. “You know, instead of watching me sleep.”

He stared at her with an indecipherable expression and the corner of his mouth turned down slightly. Even his fan stilled, the vivid feathers resting against his chest. His voice sounded subdued, even mellow, when he finally spoke. “I’d like that.”

“Oh… okay,” she managed, pleasantly surprised by his candid response. She perked up and grinned at him lightheartedly. “Then let me finish up here and we can--”

She turned around to start on the graffiti, eager to get it over with. Her hand went slack and she unintentionally dropped the sponge directly into the bucket, splashing water across her jeans, but she scarcely noticed. Every last one of the purple marks had vanished without a trace.

“Huh?!” She spun on her heel to face him and, judging by his smug expression, he was responsible. “Did you…?”

“No, it was the other djinn in the room,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now let’s get out of here. I think I’ve had my fill of this place.”

“Yeah,” she breathed, feeling exhaustion grip her out of the blue. Lack of sleep and a day packed with strange surprises had finally taken its toll. She had never been so relieved to have her work done for her. “Thank you!”

“There’s no need to thank me. I do have rather selfish motives, after all,” he admitted with an impish grin, closing the distance between them. She involuntarily held her breath as he lifted his large hand and--for some inexplicable reason--thoroughly ruffled her hair. Then he abruptly disappeared and his fox form stood before her, instead, depriving her of a chance to retaliate.

She glanced toward the front door, aware of what his sudden transformation indicated, and then his intention dawned on her. Thinking quickly, she fabricated a story as she mussed her clothing and splashed herself with more soapy water. It had gone cold and she gasped sharply, attempting to maintain her composure as the door swung open and the bell chimed.

“Hi, Frey! Sorry we took forever!” Amber’s sunny voice was apologetic as she hurriedly crossed the room with an armful of various cleaning supplies. “Have you been here long?”

“Um, yeah, for a couple of hours. I just thought I’d try to get it done by myself, and…” She didn’t have to worry about appearing suitably worn out, since she legitimately was, and she was glad she had already put the ladder in place--they would probably notice that.

“You’ve been working hard, I see. You look exhausted,” Illuminata commented as she studied her disheveled appearance. She set her own armful of cleaning supplies on the floor next to Amber’s, then turned around to observe the graffiti--which, of course, no longer existed.

“Wow! How did you clean it all up by yourself, Frey?” Amber gasped as she scanned the room in awe. “And weren’t you afraid to be here alone with the ghost?!”

“Yeah… how did you manage this?” Illuminata’s tone was more suspicious than Frey had hoped it would be. The redhead’s alert aqua eyes zeroed in on her face and she tried to resist squirming uncomfortably.

“I focused on one message at a time, and before I knew it, I was done!” she replied cheerily, lacing her fingers together in front of her. “It was just chalk, so it wasn’t hard to wipe off, and there was no sign of the ghost.”

“I’m so impressed!” Amber praised, clapping her hands and smiling widely at Frey. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help, though…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she responded casually, trying to ignore Illuminata’s analytical stare. It felt like her boss’s eyes were boring into her.

“Hmm…” Illuminata adjusted her monocle and tapped her fingers against her chin, regarding Frey thoughtfully. “Well, you always have been an exceptionally hard worker. Good job!”

“Er… thanks!” She could hardly believe Lumie was letting her off the hook this easily; she had expected to endure at least 20 minutes of interrogation. Maybe even the unstoppable detective was tired.

Frey picked up the unneeded bucket of water and hauled it to the sink so she could dump it out, noticing that the fox looked impatient. “I guess I’ll head home, then, unless you need something else…? I’m pretty tired.”

“I think we’re done here,” Illuminata replied confidently after giving the spacious room another once-over. “I’ll lock up. See you two in the morning! We’ll reopen on time, assuming that mischievous ghost doesn’t write more messages.”

As Frey and the fox walked across the street to the library, the glowing sun was sinking toward the purplish-orange horizon. She had left work much later than usual, thanks to the chalk graffiti fiasco, and she knew Kiel would be closing up soon. He was so sweet that he would probably let her in after hours, but she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

“Oh, hi, Frey!” the blond greeted as she opened the door. As soon as she glimpsed his friendly face, her nerves calmed somewhat. He had been kind enough to research the djinn's bottle, as well as rush over to check on her the night before, and she felt indebted to him.

“Hey!” she called, waving enthusiastically and ensuring the fox was safely inside before she shut the door. She made her way over to Kiel, who was removing books from his library cart and reshelving them with care. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend.”

“A friend? I don’t see anyone.” Kiel looked around and glanced toward the door with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Down here,” she giggled. She motioned near her feet where the fox was sitting, swishing his long tail passively.

Kiel peered around the cart and his eyes widened in disbelief. “Huh? A fox! Where did he come from?”

“Long story short, I found him and he’s been following me around.” She decided a simple explanation was best.

“He seems incredibly tame for a wild fox. I wonder if he was someone's pet.” Kiel studied the fox thoughtfully, who stood still and slightly flattened his his ears. “Frey, you seem to be stumbling across quite a few unusual things lately! It’s too bad that the bottle turned out to be faked, though. I thought you had found a real djinn.”

“Er… yeah.” Frey swallowed thickly, wondering how and when his thoughts had been altered. She definitely hadn’t told him that, but she decided to bolster his false memory. It was safer that way. “I’m glad it wasn’t real, though. Can you imagine an actual djinn appearing in front of you, then having to decide what to wish for?”

“Yeah, you were pretty scared. I’m glad everything turned out okay,” he replied with a gentle smile. “Oh, but by the way--did you ever figure out how it moved by itself?”

“Um, well… there have been some strange things going on recently,” she replied uneasily, meaning it in more ways than one. Now she wasn't sure which pieces of information he remembered from the previous night, so she didn’t know what to say--although, from what the djinn had told her, she was bound from sharing sensitive information regardless.

“I think I already know what you’re talking about. Forte dropped by on her way home and told me there was a suspected ghost at Carnation’s. She was really shaken up.” The blond didn’t seem surprised by the possible existence of a ghost directly across the street, which made her wonder if he had previous experience with the supernatural. Or maybe something had turned up in his research. “So you’re thinking the ghost moved that bottle around, too?”

“Yep, that’s what I was going to tell you. It’s been a crazy day, to say the least.” She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, meeting Kiel’s cornflower blue eyes wearily.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Frey?” He raised his brows and regarded her curiously. She could have sworn he had a mysterious twinkle in his eye, suggesting that he possessed more knowledge on the subject than she thought.

“After today… I guess I do.” At this point, it was undeniable. The djinn had confirmed their existence while she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he was real. When she thought about the last 24 hours too deeply, she felt dizzy and a little sick to her stomach.

“Me, too! But don’t tell Forte,” he replied with a sheepish grin.

Immediately after they entered her bedroom and she locked the door, she handed the small stack of library books to the djinn. Then she stumbled to her bed and collapsed upon the plush surface, kicking off her shoes. She was so exhausted, both physically and mentally, that she felt boneless and incapable of further movement. Sighing gratefully, she closed her eyes and nuzzled her face into the sheets.

“I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be tired,” the djinn chuckled. His voice sounded close, only a few feet away, and it was soft around the edges.

“You sleep while you’re in the bottle, though, right?” she mumbled, confident that his triangular ears were sensitive enough to understand her.

“I did refer to it as sleep yesterday, but it’s little more than a temporary lapse of consciousness.”

“Do you ever miss things like that? Truly sleeping?”

“More than almost anything else, I’ve missed holding a book in my hands.”

“I’m sure you don’t have the chance to read very often.”

“Opportunities are exceedingly rare, yes.”

“How do you know so much, then? I mean, you seem well-read.”

“I listen.”

“Huh?” That piqued her interest enough that she opened her eyes and sat up, but not without considerable effort. She crossed her legs and leaned her elbows on her knees, supporting her chin with her hands.

“When I’m inside the bottle, if I so choose, I can listen to my surroundings,” he explained from her armchair, having made himself comfortable again. The heavy, slightly worn history book was in his lap, and she noticed he was idly running his fingers along the spine.

“Oh. Did you hear me say anything… interesting?” She was too curious not to ask, although his answer definitely had the potential to be embarrassing.

“Let me think… how did it go?” A teasing smirk tugged at his lips and he made a show of trying to remember, staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. When his striking eyes met hers again, they were brimming with mischief. “Oh, yes, that’s right... ‘If you want me to make a wish so badly, I’ll make a stupid wish!’”

“Well, you were tormenting me!” She bit back a laugh as a wide grin spread across his face.

“Tormenting you with the prospect of never having to work another day in your life. Truly horrific.”

“That does sound horrific to me. I’d rather wish for just about anything else.”

“Which you still haven’t done, by the way,” he commented, instantly sobering. “Just a friendly reminder.”

“I know… let me get some rest and I’ll try to think of something tomorrow.” She uncrossed her legs and wearily slid off the bed, trying to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. As she headed to the bathroom to shower, she sensed his eyes on her and stopped in her tracks.

For several long moments, he studied her pensively as he turned the history book over in his hands. “Perhaps after I finish reading.”

“Can I ask you something?” She sank down on the edge of the bed, clad in pajamas that were dotted with sleeping sheep, and began to quickly braid her damp hair. Somehow she had managed to stay awake in the shower, but just barely. Now that she was warm and cozy, she was more drowsy than ever.

“What is it?” he responded after several seconds. He didn’t even glance up and appeared to be thoroughly engrossed in the history book. In fact, it seemed like his eyes were devouring it, eagerly soaking up every bit of information. The library had been a genius idea, if she did say so herself.

“I keep meaning to ask… what’s your name?” She tied off the end of her mint-colored braid and smoothed it over her shoulder, watching him expectantly.

This time he immediately stopped reading and stared at her blankly, setting the open book in his lap. She had the feeling that no one had bothered to ask that question in a very, very long time. “I don’t have one anymore.”

“Then what should I call you?” She didn’t feel right merely referring to him as ‘djinn’ or ‘fox,’ even just in her head. He deserved a real name. Also, she imagined it would be more effective to use his name when he annoyed her.

“Pick something.” He shrugged nonchalantly and leaned back in the chair, puffing out a sigh. “Within reason.”

“You seem like a Leo,” she mused, tilting her head observantly. He even looked like one, somehow.

His eyebrows knitted together and then he slowly sat up again, gazing at her intently. She noticed that his jaw tensed and his posture was rigid as he spoke. “You arrived at that rather quickly. Why?”

“Well… to be honest, your personality reminds me of the astrological sign,” she answered cautiously, sensing his uneasiness. “And the corresponding element is fire, so it fits.”

He closed the book, which was so thick that it thumped shut, and set it on the small wooden table next to the chair. His lips were set in a thin line until he spoke again. “There must be hundreds of millions of names in the world, yet you picked that one.”

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” She nibbled her bottom lip habitually, discouraged by his negative reaction.

“It’s… eerily similar to my human name.” He sounded reluctant but he continued after a temporary pause, and she was stunned to have guessed so accurately. “One letter short, in fact.”

She considered for a moment and then responded gently, green eyes soft. “Your name is Leon?”

He didn’t confirm it verbally but his brief, melancholy expression clearly revealed the answer. His long fingers tapped the arm of the chair and he suddenly seemed restless. He even relinquished eye contact, which in their short time together so far, he hadn’t often done.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized regretfully, wringing her hands together in her lap. “I didn’t mean to--”

“I can’t remember the last time I heard it spoken aloud. That’s all,” he confided quietly, and she was struck with the impression that he was lonely. He camouflaged it with mere boredom, but maybe the isolation tormented him significantly more than he let on.

“Would you rather be called something else?” she inquired delicately, unable to disguise her concern. This time, at least, he didn’t seem so irritated by it.

“If you insist on calling me something, Leo is acceptable.” His cerulean eyes flickered across her face and the last vestiges of discomfort faded away. Then, as if nothing had transpired, his lips quirked upward and he reclaimed the book from the table. “Now go to sleep so I can continue reading in peace.”

“Gladly,” she tittered, covering her mouth as she yawned widely. She crawled beneath the smooth sheets, lying on her side and facing toward him. Her heavy eyelids slammed shut and she mumbled two final words before she passed out. “Goodnight, Leo.”

Chapter Text

When her beeping alarm shattered her dreams bright and early the following morning, she opened her hazy eyes to find that Leo was still reading. The bulky history book had been replaced by a newer, more compact one, and this time the chosen subject was astronomy. She couldn’t imagine absorbing such a vast amount of information in one sitting, but evidently his mind was capable of it. It would be an enviable perk if the opportunities to use it weren’t so few and far between, not to mention the centuries--eternity?--of entrapment that went along with it.

“Have you been reading for the entire night?” She sat up and rubbed her face, groggy and unprepared to leave her cozy bed. Once she was able to focus, she noticed the sun was streaming through the window behind him at exactly the right angle, giving the illusion that he was glowing ethereally. He exuded a peaceful aura and she felt slightly guilty for breaking the spell.

“Despite an environment not conducive to learning.” He was absorbed in the text, his eager eyes flitting back and forth across the pages as he spoke. It was difficult to comprehend how he was still so alert and focused after reading nonstop for somewhere between seven and eight hours. Each time he paused to turn a crisp white page, he did so with apparent reverence.

“Does that mean you were watching me sleep again?” she inquired, cringing. Surely she wasn’t that animated while she slept, but he had officially made her self conscious about it. She shielded her mouth as she yawned and tried to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

"Watching and witnessing are not one in the same,” he replied easily and without hesitation. He shifted his position in the chair, leaning leisurely to one side as the long, tapered fingers of one hand carefully cradled the spine of the book. The only person she knew to treat books so lovingly was Kiel.

"Why can’t you just answer the question?” She huffed and glared annoyedly, even though he wasn’t looking at her, and crossed her slender arms over her chest. “Geez."

He finally raised his head, then, tearing his gaze away from the immersive text. He furrowed his expressive eyebrows in what was almost certainly feigned confusion. “Did I not?"

"Ugh… it's too early for this," she grumbled as she crawled out of bed. His word choice, as well as how he arranged them, was misleading to an aggravating extent. It was also easy to misread his facial expressions, especially when they contradicted his tone of voice, but he didn't strike her as dishonest--just foxy, which didn't exactly come as a surprise. "You’re so... tricky."

"I occasionally leave things open to interpretation,” he responded tersely, continuing to read and once again avoiding the heat of her stare.

"Which is tricky!" she insisted, taking a few steps toward him as she began to unwind her sleep-tousled braid. It was still slightly damp but considerably more manageable than if she had slept with it unbound.

"Mhm. Why are you argumentative? I didn't disagree with you." His voice had turned velvety, but with a cunning undertone, and he met her narrowed eyes in a way that was clearly meant to provoke her further.

"But you just said…" She started to bite back before she realized that he actually hadn't disagreed, although his curt tone had insinuated it. His smug expression conveyed that he had intended to deceive her.

"That's rather amusing. You misinterpreted me as we're having a conversation about interpretation.” He chuckled blithely, wearing a lopsided grin.

"Hmph." Her cheeks flushed and she glowered at him, managing to capture his mischievous gaze this time.

"I anticipated that you would be angry,” he remarked, quirking a brow and maintaining steady eye contact. He placed the open book in his lap, folding his hands on top of it.

"Huh? I am!" she growled, clasping her pajama-clad hips and frowning.

"Ah. You look awfully cute when you're angry, then.” He tilted his head, placing a fist beneath his smooth chin thoughtfully, and the corner of his mouth twitched when she inevitably blushed. “I couldn’t tell."

"Strange… I don't remember checking out a book on how to be incredibly annoying, but apparently you read the entire thing overnight!" Now she was biting the inside of her cheek to resist laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation--arguing with a djinn at the crack of dawn, wearing pajamas that were patterned with sleepy sheep, and sporting undoubtedly disheveled hair that she had just finished releasing from its braid. Nonetheless, he had referred to her as cute, but probably only to embarrass her.

"I managed to squeeze it in between history and astrology.” He didn’t miss a beat, unsurprisingly, and shot her a teasing wink that immediately darkened her cheeks further. “It was quite enlightening."

"Obviously," she huffed, rolling her eyes in an attempt to distract from her flustered state. As she did so, she happened to glimpse the clock on her nightstand and she gasped. "Damn, I spent too much time arguing with you! I'm going to be late."

"Not if you start walking now." 

"I can't," she groaned, rushing into her closet to grab a change of clothes. "I'm still in pajamas, I need to fix my hair, and--"

Mid-sentence, she was engulfed by the tingly static electricity sensation. She yelped and glanced down in awe to see that her pajamas had been instantly replaced by jeans and a pink Carnation's t-shirt. Upon checking her hair in the mirror, which reflected her shocked expression, it was styled like she had worn it the day before--in lengthy twintails that flowed down to her waist.

When she burst out of her closet on wobbly legs to stare at him in disbelief, he had casually continued reading and paid her no mind. She crossed the room to stand directly in front of him, trying to catch her breath and come to terms with what had just happened.

“That was impressively fast,” he commented, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise when he lifted his head.

"If this is your way of apology, I guess I'll accept," she breathed, heart racing. Her skin was still tingling from the rush of magic, goosebumps prickling along her arms. "Even though I'm kind of freaked out… really freaked out, actually."

"You'll still manage to be late despite my help, if you don't hurry,” he replied dryly, already engrossed in the book again. 

"Are you going to stay here? I only have to work a half-day, so I'll be back pretty soon." She had finally managed to catch her breath, but the tingles hadn’t yet subsided and she felt dazed.

"I've had my fill of attention for the time being. Bring back more books."

Frey returned home in the early afternoon, surprised to see Fox-Leo lying in the grass near the front porch. He had either finished reading the library books, which was unfathomable, or he had decided to take a break in the sun. Alternatively, maybe he missed her and was waiting for her--that thought made her laugh quietly to herself.

"You got tired of being stuck inside, huh?" She crouched down to check if the vibrant flowers bordering the sidewalk needed water, finding that they were well-hydrated, and then continued along toward the porch. She decided that she felt like sunbathing, too, and settled comfortably on the springy grass alongside him.

He didn't lift his triangular head from his paws, continuing to lounge lazily, but he did gaze up at her. His yellow eyes were even shinier up close, glinting in the sunlight and flecked with green, and his dark pupils were narrowed into slits due to how bright it was. She slid the straps of her heavy backpack off her shoulders and plopped it on the ground between them.

"There was no sign of the graffiti ghost at Carnation's," she told him, and his black-tipped ears flicked toward her as he listened. "So if it's tethered to Dolce like you said, I wonder if it followed her to work today. Her parents are a doctor and a nurse, and she works in the office for them, so I really hope it doesn't scare away the patients."

She paused when a sudden and refreshing gust of wind rattled the trees, tilting her abundance of garden flowers sideways. Her azalea bushes shed vivid pink petals that floated through the air, two of which landed on Fox-Leo--one between his ears and the other on his muzzle. She giggled as he shook his head and sent them tumbling into the sweet-smelling grass.

"It's kind of nice to talk to you like this, when all you can do is listen… and you can't make any smart remarks," she teased, then laughed as he growled softly. He stared off across the well-manicured yard but his ears were still tilted toward her, so she continued. “It’s weird how quickly I got used to this whole situation. I guess it’s possible that I’m just in shock, still, and I’ll completely freak out later. But I won’t remember this in the end, anyway...”

He drew in a deep breath and sighed forcefully enough that the grass in front of his nose moved. She wondered if it signified that he was also dreading the day she would forget everything. Or, more likely, he was considering how improbable it was that he would ever have another opportunity like this--to expand his knowledge, breathe the comfortable spring air, simply be . It was now Saturday afternoon and they had only just met Thursday night, but somehow it felt substantially longer--probably because the days themselves had seemed longer, too, packed with so much mind-boggling information that her brain was struggling to process it all.

“Oh!” she chirped, remembering she had something to show him. He raised his head and tilted it inquisitively as she hefted another library book--even thicker than the previous two--from her backpack. “I brought you another book. Since you’re so interested in ancient history, I thought you might like it. This one’s on archaeology.”

The tip of his white tail tapped the grass in what seemed to be a gesture of approval, giving her hope that she had chosen correctly. His yellow eyes were curiously studying the cover of the book when his ears perked up, shifting toward the front of the yard. Following his gaze, Frey saw Dolce’s svelte form approaching from the sidewalk.

“Don’t tell me you’re reading to your fox.” Her roommate’s face wore a soft smirk as she crossed her arms, looking down at them with a rare expression of amusement. She was clad in all black, contrasting sharply with the rainbow of colors surrounding them.

“So what if I was?” Frey grinned and returned the book to her backpack, rising to her feet. Fox-Leo remained in the grass, lying on his side and yawning widely. “You’re about to try talking to a ghost, so who’s the crazy one now?”

“I’m beginning to think this whole town is crazy,” Dolce replied flatly, beginning to climb the stairs of the creaky porch. Even though her steps were quite delicate, her heavy black boots still thudded noisily against the aging wood as she ascended.

“Yeah, me too.” Frey followed her and glanced back at Fox-Leo, smiling to herself when he lazily stretched before standing. He was truly making the most of his little vacation. “When are you going to start?”

“As soon as night falls.” Dolce opened the bright red door and hung her coat up as Frey and Fox-Leo walked inside.

“Of course...” Frey giggled uneasily as she shut the door behind them and they stepped into the small, old-fashioned kitchen. The cabinets were natural wood and the checkered flooring was probably the original tile from when the house was built. Their appliances were all secondhand and didn’t match, but they were in good working condition. “Did you invite anyone else?”

“No. The last thing I need is more people hearing my supposed feelings,” Dolce scoffed, removing a drinking glass from the cabinet.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

“Leo, since you seem to know so much about ghosts… do Ouija boards even actually work?” Frey asked once they were safely inside her bedroom. 

“It wouldn’t be much fun if I told you, now would it?” he replied with a smirk as he turned around to face her, tail swishing back and forth passively.

“Maybe not for you…” She stared at him dully, sighing. “By the way, I've been thinking--it can’t be a coincidence that as soon as I released you, the ghost started acting out. We weren’t even sure it existed until now; Dolce just had her suspicions. Did you have something to do with it?”

“My, my, aren’t you observant,” he marveled insincerely with a teasing gleam in his eyes, placing a hand on his trim hip.

“Don’t patronize me!” Taking several purposeful steps forward, she locked her eyes with his frustratingly mischievous ones, determined to drag a straight answer out of him. “Of course I noticed things have been weird ever since you showed up. What did you do?!”

“Ah, but now you’re jumping to conclusions,” he responded smoothly. His smirk had deepened and she intensified her scowl in response. She could sense that he was going to continue evading her questions.

“But you did have something to do with it.” Refusing to back off, she gradually shortened the distance between them. He didn’t budge, merely crossing his arms over his chest and regarding her with apparent amusement.

“If you weren’t so little and cute, I might be intimidated right now,” he drawled. He moved closer until they were only a couple of feet apart, presumably to show her that he wasn’t the slightest bit daunted.

“Leo!” she growled, blushing hotly and clenching her fists. She could feel magic rolling off of him in waves and she involuntarily shivered. “Argh, just--give me something! And quit calling me cute.”

He stared down at her for several moments, in the same way a parent would if they were preparing to explain something to their child without revealing the complicated details. “It’s possible that the spirit is feeding off my energy.”

“That can happen?” She gasped softly, more surprised that he had actually divulged something than she was by the information itself. Her frustration gradually began to dissipate and she felt her flushed skin cooling.

“Theoretically.” His expression had turned mysterious, suggesting he knew more than he was letting on--as per usual.

“How do we find out for sure?” She spoke hastily, hoping to continue along the more cooperative path he had unexpectedly veered onto, and gazed up at him with expectant green eyes.

“So many questions, little moth,” he purred with an instigative tilt of his head, which immediately had the impact on her that he undoubtedly desired--she groaned with irritation. Of course he would return to being elusive just as they were making some headway. “You’re curious to a fault.”

“Well, I still want to know!” she insisted, glowering at his back when he turned and approached the window. She suddenly found herself annoyed that his long, straight hair was so effortlessly flawless, so that’s where she focused the brunt of her glare.

“Perhaps you’ll receive an answer directly from the source. I can’t say for sure.” He sounded uncertain, but that didn’t mean a thing. She would definitely question the spirit tonight. It would probably give more concrete answers than he did, even though it had to communicate letter-by-letter through the board.

“Yeah, I definitely like you better as a fox.”

“Have you ever done this before, Dolce?” Frey felt apprehensive but she was equally excited, wondering if the graffiti-ghost would be cooperative. 

“Yes.” Dolce’s tone was flat as she walked to the other side of the room, turning off the lamp and flipping light switches.

“And…? What happened?” Frey pried as she sparked a lighter, igniting the wicks of numerous mismatched candles they had arranged in the center of the coffee table. The lighter quickly grew hot and burned her thumb, causing her to curse under her breath and release the trigger. She stuck the wounded digit in her mouth to soothe it, and then her eyes grew wide when the remainder of the candles lit up simultaneously.

“Nothing, really, but that was before I moved here with you. I didn’t have a stalker ghost back then.” Dolce chuckled wryly as the room was plunged into darkness, save the cluster of brightly flickering candles.

Frey glanced over at Dolce, who still had her back to her, and then looked around for Fox-Leo. She hadn’t even noticed him jump up on the couch behind her, but there he was--he was even sneakier in this form than he was as a djinn. She popped her thumb out of her mouth, which now felt a bit numb, and knew that he was responsible for the candles. She also knew that he would be laughing at her right now if he were capable.

Dolce returned to the coffee table and knelt on the plush blue rug in front of it, her expression solemn. She removed the polished wooden Ouija board from its box, placing it alongside the matching planchette next to her, and Frey circled around to observe. She had seen a Ouija board before, but only in pictures and movies, and it was pretty intimidating up close.

“So… how do we start?” Frey asked somewhat hesitantly, lowering herself to the rug in front of Dolce.

“It’s best if we sit on our knees opposite each other, then balance the board across our laps.” Dolce shifted into position, carefully lifting the board, and Frey mirrored her.

“Okay, now what?” She brushed her mint-colored twintails back over her shoulders, getting them out of the way, and then they set the intriguing object over the tops of their legs.

“We both place our fingers on the planchette--very lightly--and wait for it to move on its own. Stay quiet. I’ll ask the questions.” Dolce's tone was firm and no-nonsense, her maroon eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Got it,” Frey responded quietly. They delicately placed their fingers on either side of the heart-shaped piece of wood, waiting with bated breath.

“Speak to me, little annoying one. I know you’re there.” Dolce’s tone was derisive, her full lips curved downward.

“Dolce…,” Frey murmured, wincing. “Are you sure you should talk to her like that?”

“Shh.” Her pink-haired roommate didn’t even glance up at her.

For what seemed like an entire minute or two, but was likely only seconds, nothing happened. The room was completely still and so quiet that Frey only heard two sounds: her own rapid heartbeat and shallow breaths. Then, with no warning whatsoever, the planchette rapidly began to glide across the board. Frey and Dolce made eye contact briefly, silently acknowledging what it had spelled out as their fingers trembled with adrenaline.

“D-O-L-L-Y.”

“You keep calling me that. Why?” Dolce asked, not bothering to mask her irritation.

“D-O-L-L-Y.”

“Is that all you’re capable of saying?” Dolce sighed sharply, working her jaw.

Without a moment's hesitation, the planchette began spelling her nickname for a third time.

“That’s enough. Why don’t you tell me your own name instead of constantly repeating mine?”

“P-I-C-O.”

“What do you want, Pico?”

“D-O-L-L-Y.”

“Yes, we’ve established that. Why are you bothering me?”

“M-I-L-A-D-Y.”

“Milady? Why are you calling me that now?”

“F-R-I-E-N-D-S.”

“How can I be friends with you? You’re dead," Dolce responded evenly. "Did you die here?”

“Dolce!” Frey whispered harshly, eyes wide.

The planchette immediately jumped to "YES."

“In my room? Is that why you’re so attached to me?” Dolce watched the planchette intently, appearing to grow more impatient by the second.

Now it circled around the word "YES" several times in quick succession.

“Well, detach yourself. I don’t appreciate you writing messages about me, especially in public places. Why did you do that?” Dolce glared down at the board and the planchette began to flit around so quickly that they had trouble keeping up.

“S-H-A-R-E-Y-O-U-R-F-E-E-L-I-N-G-S.”

“...To share my feelings? How would you know what I feel?” Dolce questioned with venom in her voice, eyes sharpening.

“I-W-A-T-C-H-Y-O-U.”

“What are you, some kind of pervert? Go haunt someone else,” she snapped.

“I-W-A-N-T-T-O-B-E-W-I-T-H-Y-O-U.”

“Aww, Dolce…” Frey waited for her to look up, then gazed at her imploringly. “I feel sorry for her.”

“You can have her, then. Do you hear that, Pico? Frey likes you,” Dolce grumbled as the planchette began to move again.

“D-O-L-L-Y.”

“Argh! You little…” Dolce scowled and shook her head, cross earrings jingling.

“Can I ask her something, Dolce?” Frey nibbled her bottom lip anxiously, imagining that this was her best chance.

“Fine,” Dolce permitted, shrugging her narrow shoulders.

“Pico… are you drawing energy from something?” Frey inquired cautiously. This time the planchette hesitated to move, but only briefly, then approached a different first letter.

“L-E-O.”

“Who is Leo?” Dolce glanced up at Frey and raised a delicate eyebrow, frowning. The bright orange candlelight reflected in her dark eyes, making her appear rather wicked.

“Umm… I have no clue. Another spirit, maybe?” Frey lied through her teeth. So that confirmed it. She covertly glanced over at Fox-Leo, but he didn’t visibly react. He was curled up against the arm of the couch nearest her, his yellow eyes glowing in the dark.

“Great. Just what we need, another spirit,” Dolce deadpanned with a roll of her eyes.

“Heh. Yeah, no kidding,” Frey tittered awkwardly.

“Pico, how can I get rid of you?” Dolce seemed to have abruptly lost her patience and she was noticeably clenching her jaw.

The planchette immediately shot across the board again, so quickly this time that they barely managed to keep their fingers on it, and skidded to a stop on “GOODBYE.” 

“Does that mean… is she gone?” Frey slowly raised her hands from the board, looking around the room. The candles cast eerie shadows on the walls and she almost expected to see an apparition at this point.

“Hopefully. I’ve had enough.” Dolce slammed the board shut as she and Frey stared wordlessly at one another, wearing matching stunned expressions. Then she placed it back in the box, huffing out a weary sigh as she rose to her feet. 

Frey stood and stretched her legs, which were stiff from sitting in the same position for so long, and crossed the room to switch on the lamp. No sooner had the light clicked on than the bulb flickered ominously, blinking erratically for several seconds before the power went completely out… along with every last candle, as if a phantom gust of wind had extinguished them all in one breath.

Chapter Text

“Um, Dolce… I think you made her mad,” Frey whispered as her vision gradually adjusted to the darkness. She could scarcely glimpse her roommate in the pitch black room; the only thing she could see clearly were Fox-Leo’s yellow eyes, which were glowing eerily. The bright orbs seemed to float through the air like a pair of fireflies as he hopped down from the couch.

“...It does appear that way,” Dolce acquiesced, sounding irritated as she crossed the room. Now she was near enough that Frey noticed the grimace marring her delicate features, as well as the way she anxiously wrung her hands together. Discovering that a wayward ghost was tethered to you couldn’t be an easy thing to swallow, to say the least.

“You should apologize! Maybe she’ll turn the power back on.” Frey strove for optimism, gazing into the maroon eyes that were partially concealed by shadow.

Dolce expelled an exasperated sigh, silently declining to answer as she approached the window. Dappled white moonlight decorated her flowing pink hair.

“Come on!” Frey persuaded, carefully following her. The last thing she needed was to catch her foot on something and introduce her face to the floor. “Aren’t you scared?”

“Are you?” Dolce turned the question on her with a hint of amusement in her voice, resting her pale hands on the windowsill as she stared outside. Although she tried to appear unflappable, Frey had known her long enough to see through the facade.

“I need to go to the bathroom, and I really don’t want to go in the dark.” In truth, she needed an excuse to leave the room so she could talk to Leo--or more likely, argue with him and further muddle her thoughts, failing to come to a resolution.

“Take a candle and your fox with you,” Dolce replied impassively, shrugging her slight shoulders.

“Dolce!” Frey scolded. She resolved to pester her until she relented.

“Why should I apologize?” Her body language was stiff, tone defiant.

“Because,” Frey whispered pressingly, “you’ve been pretty rude to her. And I’d like to, you know, have electricity again in the near future.”

“Ugh… fine.” Dolce shot her a sidelong glance, complete with a heated scowl.

“Be sincere!” Frey insisted, locking eyes with her meaningfully once she turned around.

“Pico, do you hear me? I’m...” Dolce sighed reluctantly and was obviously having to force the words out. She made it look painful, lips compressed into a thin line as she considered what she was going to say. “Actually, you owe me an apology first. You’re the one who started all of this.”

It felt like the air was sucked out of the room and there was a prickling sensation along Frey’s spine, suggesting that there was a presence behind her. She pivoted on her heel to witness the wooden drawer of the nearby desk rattling open, seemingly on its own, and then invisible hands were hastily rummaging around inside of it. Various pens and markers levitated above the desk before the ghost apparently chose one, because the utensil hovered across the room until it found a blank spot on the ivory wall.

“Milady! Please forgive me!” the marker scrawled in large, capitalized magenta letters.

Oddly, Frey’s first thought was to decide how she would remove the gaudy message without damaging the paint. After that, she considered that pink and purple were probably Pico’s favorite colors. Lastly, she recognized the impossibility of this situation--which apparently wasn’t impossible at all anymore, as daunting as it was to accept. Nothing was out of the question at this point.

When Frey glanced over at Dolce, she appeared to be vexed instead of fearful. Her arms were tensely crossed over the intricate black lace that adorned her shirt, and she glowered resentfully at the now-stationary marker. If looks could kill, Pico would die--again.

“Y-you’re forgiven,” Dolce mustered. She spoke with apparent difficulty, her soft voice strained. “And I’m sorry, too... I guess. Now turn the power back on.”

The marker abruptly sprang into action again, scribbling a much shorter message this time, and then the writing utensil tumbled to the carpeted floor. “Wasn’t me!”

“I don’t trust her, but it is possible the power is out for the whole street,” Dolce mused, turning back to the square window. Raindrops were scattered across the glass panes, sparkling subtly in the light of the moon. “A storm is rolling in.”

“That’s too much of a coincidence. And how do you explain the candles?” Frey argued, beginning to feel weary.

As soon as the words left her mouth, the wicks reignited and sprang to life, casting irregular shadows on the walls again. The sudden resurgence of light startled her and she glanced around, unsure which one of the supernatural beings was responsible. She wondered how many more surprises her heart could endure before it simply gave out.

“I guess I’ll just have to take a candle with me to the bathroom. I’ll be right back. Unless you’re scared to be left alone?” Frey asked when her pulse began to regulate. She meant for the question to come off teasingly, but her nerves were too rattled and her voice sounded a bit shaky as a result.

“I’ll survive,” Dolce grumbled, continuing to gaze aimlessly through the window. “I’m going to walk out on the porch and see if the neighbors’ lights are on.”

“Okay, good idea.” Frey nodded and chose a candle that was atop a small saucer, lifting it gingerly from the table and starting down the hallway as Fox-Leo trotted ahead. The second they had privacy, she plunked the flickering candle on top of her dresser and impatiently waited for Djinn-Leo to blink into existence.

“I know you turned the electricity off.” She crossed her arms and stared into his cerulean eyes glumly when he materialized, clearly expressing her disapproval as a mirthsome chuckle erupted from his chest. If only he didn’t have such a nice laugh, it would be considerably less difficult to keep a straight face.

“Why are you so quick to accuse me?” He wasn’t even attempting to feign innocence, wearing a grin so mischievous that it would shame the cheshire cat. Since his visage was mostly obscured, illuminated solely by the flame of the single candle, it intensified the air of unpredictability that surrounded him.

“Your face, for one thing!” She shook her head at him, sighing. “And the ghost, Pico--she said she’s drawing energy from you.”

“That doesn’t prove that I’m complicit,” he replied easily, unbothered. He shrugged his broad shoulders and the impish grin was replaced by a self-satisfied smirk.

“I bet you’ve been encouraging her this whole time,” she grumbled, her voice taking on a chastising tone. She shifted her weight and put a hand on her hip. “No more games.”

“Playing games is in my nature.” He had composed himself by this point, meeting her eyes steadily. The corner of his mouth edged downward but he didn’t otherwise react to her plea.

“Can’t you at least give it a rest?”

“Ha… it’s an innate characteristic, not unlike your stubbornness and curiosity.”

“Have you forgotten that all I have to do is speak a few words? And then, poof, you’re back in your bottle,” she warned, shooting him a charming smile. Of course she didn’t mean it, but maybe he would reconsider treating her so flippantly.

“Oho, I didn’t take you for the threatening type.” His impossibly blue eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and excitement, the complete opposite of the reaction she had intended to elicit. “I’m calling your bluff.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but not a single word surfaced and she felt herself flush with embarrassment. When she turned her head away in a poor attempt to disguise her cheeks, he closed the distance between them and openly feasted his eyes on the color. His rapt attention, paired with the half-smile that tilted his shapely lips, left her reeling.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I… I just haven’t decided yet!” she stuttered defensively, attempting to gather her wits. She had to take a step backwards before she dared to look directly at him again. “But if you don’t turn the electricity back on, I’m going to wish for something ridiculous.”

“Oh, really? Such as?” he queried with a teasing lilt to his voice. His expression was disbelieving as he produced his feathered fan with a flourish.

“Like a pony, or maybe a lifetime supply of Twinkies.” She giggled, unable to pinpoint why those were the first two things that came to mind, and it relieved some of the tension that had stiffened her shoulders and tightened her jaw.

“What in the world are Twinkies and why would you want a lifetime supply of them?” He looked perplexed, wearing a lopsided frown with his eyebrows scrunched together.

“They’re over-processed snack cakes. And I don’t even like them very much--it’s just that it would definitely be the most foolish wish you’ve ever granted.”

“Hm. I don’t know about that,” he drawled, tapping the closed fan against his chin thoughtfully.

“Huh? Someone’s really wished for something worse than that?” She quirked a brow, genuinely surprised.

“Several people have panicked and wished that they knew what to wish for.” He glanced skyward for a second, then shook his head dismissively. “The one I had the most trouble comprehending, though, was for a rice cooker that would never break.”

“That’s oddly specific," she laughed. "I guess all of these people don’t have to live in regret, at least, since they don’t remember.”

“They’re unaware of the wasted opportunity.”

“By the way, I assume that you can’t grant world peace or anything like that, but I never actually asked…” She trailed off when his neutral expression transitioned into one of displeasure.

“As much as it pains me to admit...” He paused and crossed his arms over his chest with a heavy sigh, subtly pouting. “This is one of the few things that I’m forced to answer honestly. No djinn possesses that level of power. I’m unable to grant any wishes that would alter the fabric of society, change the course of history, or the fate of the world as a whole.”

“So, basically… nothing very useful,” she teased, grinning openly in an attempt to goad him.

“Maybe not to the likes of you…” He inclined his head toward her and narrowed his eyes, lips twisting into a playful smirk. Tendrils of pale azure hair streamed over his shoulders. “As I said, you’re the most difficult human I’ve ever come across.”

“I’m actually beginning to consider that a compliment.” She definitely wasn’t offended by it, having never fit into the archetypal mold. “Anyway, back to the point. Turn the--”

“What did I tell you about ordering me around?” He clucked his tongue and cut her off, this time by brushing the tip of an ornate feather against her bottom lip. She shivered involuntarily. It tickled even more intensely than the tips of his fingers, and she glared as she swatted him away. “You’re lucky that I’m gracious enough to continue reminding you.”

“Are you just saying that so I won’t ask you for favors all the time?” she asked suspiciously, already familiar with his tendency to skirt around the truth. Her lips continued to tingle and she pressed them together in an attempt to dull the sensation.

He neglected to answer and stared at her impassively, and as she was trying in vain to decipher his stoic expression, there was an abrupt, thunderous crash. In the midst of the placid silence, it made her yelp, and she reflexively lunged toward him. Her fingers trembled from the rush of adrenaline and she gripped the edges of his intricately-embroidered vest, jerking her head toward the direction of the sound.

“H-hey! What are you doing?” He sounded startled and thrown off guard, but she only vaguely registered his question and the placating warmth that emanated from him.

“Was that you or Pico?” she breathed, still attempting to determine the source of the commotion. It sounded like it had originated from her adjoining bathroom, but it was impossible to see that far in the dark, so she couldn’t be certain.

“What do you think?” His voice was atypically subdued, which finally caused her to turn her head and look up--way up, considering his height and proximity--and then her lungs felt paralyzed.

“You don’t have a great track record so far.” She swallowed thickly as her eyes roamed across his angular face, which was still mostly shrouded by darkness. Despite that, she noticed his bronze cheeks were unexpectedly tinted red. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“W-what are you talking about? I’m not capable of blushing,” he insisted, but his rapidly darkening cheeks belied his claim. His normally penetrative gaze had transitioned to one of bashfulness, and he glanced off to one side instead of directly meeting her eyes.

“Are you sure about that? Your cheeks are bright red.” She was practically mesmerized by his sudden change in demeanor, considering his typical carefree flirtatiousness.

“Heh, you’re so frightened that you’re imagining things,” he replied dismissively. He continued to avert his gaze, pretending to be interested in the candle’s tear-shaped flame, before flicking his anxious eyes back over to her with a scowl. “Stop staring!”

“There’s a mirror right there above the dresser, if you don’t believe me.” She was undeterred, reveling in this fortunate turn of events. She maintained eye contact until he frowned at her and grew uncomfortable enough to turn his head again.

“I’d rather not see my reflection.” He gazed pensively in the direction of the mirror. The residual color that dusted his cheeks began to fade.

“Huh? Why not?” She wondered if it was painful for him to study his own image, to see a glimpse of the man he once was. Her triumphant grin was replaced by a sympathetic frown.

“My handsome face is too entrancing. It’s difficult to tear myself away,” he purred as he met her eyes once again. His arrogant, cocky manner returned with such quickness that she nearly doubted she had witnessed the shy side of him at all.

“Wow, that’s…” She stared at him incredulously, having hoped for a response that was less vain and more introspective.

“And you’re of the same opinion,” he stated with inordinate confidence.

“Y-you don’t know that!” she stammered, sensing that his blush had been contagious. His beauty was undeniable, which he was clearly aware of, but that wouldn’t stop her from opposing him and refusing to admit it.

“You may want to check your own reflection--that is, if you can manage to let go of me first.” He pointedly looked down at her hands, which were still grasping his vest, and she recoiled with a squeak. He chuckled softly and with apparent amusement before blinking out of sight, and then there were glowing yellow eyes peering up at her from the floor.

“Frey?” Dolce’s voice was elevated in volume, but she didn’t sound urgent or overly concerned as she approached with her own candle. The modest flame barely cast any useful light, just enough to see directly in front of her. “I thought I heard a crash.”

“Y-yeah. I’m not sure what it was,” Frey fibbed, shrugging her shoulders even though Dolce was unlikely to notice. “I guess we should get used to it, since Pico is apparently here to stay?”

“Only until I learn how to perform an exorcism,” was Dolce’s blunt reply.

Frey gasped and began to shush her, but then she abruptly froze as the bulbs began to flicker, repeatedly bathing them in white light before plunging them into pitch darkness. When the lights stabilized at last, both women squinted and blinked rapidly as their eyes readjusted. They stared at one another with blank, weary expressions, and before long, they simultaneously burst into near-hysterical laughter. They only managed to stop when their sides cramped and they were in tears.

Chapter Text

“You’re so lazy,” she laughed mirthfully, glancing over at Fox-Leo as she knelt in the dirt. She was patting her hands around the base of a new cucumber seedling, carefully embedding its fragile roots in the fresh-smelling soil as he looked on.

If anyone asked her about her favorite part of gardening at this moment, she would answer without hesitation that it was securing these tiny sprouts to the earth--but then she would claim that it was the first sign of new growth, like an additional leaf; later on, she would insist it was when the first promising bud appeared, or more excitingly, when the first vegetable began to flourish at the end of a leafy vine. Truth be told, it was impossible for her to settle on a favorite--she adored every phase, and each spring brought with it a renewed sense of fascination.

The fox was carelessly sprawled out on his stomach in the plush green grass, yellow eyes narrowed into slits to shield them from the blazing sun. From time to time she assumed he was dozing, before she remembered that he was incapable of sleeping at all. His red coat glinted so brightly beneath the harsh rays that it reminded her of the element of fire that resided within him; she had almost forgotten what he was capable of these past few weeks.

Leo, in either form, had simply been… living.

Her mind wandered as she gripped the worn handle of her tiller and dragged it through another plot of soil. She always meticulously loosened and aerated it prior to planting, believing it necessary to properly prepare the earth, and she imagined it was at least partially responsible for her healthy plants and abundant harvests. Regardless, the repetitive action calmed her, clearing her mind and relaxing her in a way that nothing else ever had--until now.

She wondered… she couldn’t stop wondering. Every night as she drifted off to sleep while he read by her window, every uninterrupted moment at work, every time she looked at him--she wondered. How many days did he have left? How many additional chances did he have to bask in the sun? How many more books--of which he had already read dozens--would he be allowed to discover? Which of their pointless arguments and intriguing late-night conversations would be their last?

They were quickly approaching the day that weeks would become months. She had released him from his bottle on March 27th, and tomorrow would mark the same day in April. Time had flown by so quickly, beginning in the throes of a chaotic whirlwind that had gradually abated, now merely a serene breeze--yet she sensed they were only standing in the eye of the storm, a temporary comfort as destruction lurked on the horizon, its arrival and severity unpredictable.

He yawned and her troubled green eyes drifted across the backyard again, over the rows of promising seedlings and the sea of gently swaying grass. She had grown accustomed to his near-constant presence and it was difficult to imagine that he might simply disappear at any given moment. It was also worrisome that he might have to endure some consequence or punishment for failing to grant a wish for an extended period of time, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care. It was more likely that he didn’t care--but she did.

She watched as he stretched languidly, slowly approaching her while she stood and brushed damp, dark brown dirt from her jeans. When she twisted the spigot to turn the water on, grabbing the hose and yanking it nearer to the garden, she couldn’t resist the idea that popped into her head. He had admitted that teasing her was his new favorite hobby, even surpassing reading--and, well, payback was long overdue. She knew that he would cross his arms and sulk the second they got back to her room, and she giggled in anticipation. 

Initially she ignored him as she misted the garden just enough to dampen the soil, careful not to overwater. She averted her eyes as she finished, beginning to reel the hose in to avoid rousing suspicion, and then she abruptly switched the sprayer to the ‘shower’ setting and let loose. He tried to retreat but the water saturated his fur in the span of a few seconds, so efficiently that even he couldn’t hope to outrun it.

She released the trigger, halting the flow of water, and doubled over in laughter at the sight of him. He was soaked to the bone and droopy-eared, glaring at her--or at least it appeared so, considering he currently had a limited range of facial expressions--as water puddled in the dirt beneath him. The whole situation was even more amusing because of his boundless vanity, which probably extended to his fox form, as well.

He stared at her motionlessly as she finished rolling up the hose and situating it against the side of the house, and then he abruptly charged at her. Droplets of water splattered her from head to toe as he brusquely shook his fur, and she threw her arms over her face and shrieked, laughing breathlessly as she turned and ran to the back door. She sensed that he was hot on her heels and she prepared for another onslaught of water, but Dolce chose that moment to open the back door and peek her head through.

“What’s so funny?” She quirked a brow as her coal-lined maroon eyes flickered across the yard and back to Frey, and then she apparently noticed Fox-Leo because she emitted something like a delicate snort. She pressed a hand to her lips and shook her head. “I guess that answers my question.”

“He was trying to eat some of my plants,” she fibbed, laughing. "The water hose is the only thing that stopped him."

"And he still didn't run away, even after that treatment? Strange."

"Speaking of strange, do you think Pico will follow you to Clorica's again?"

"Shh, don't tempt her," she growled, glancing around like she was attempting to sense her presence. "Anyway, I just came to tell you that I'm about to leave. Don't bring your wet fox into the house."

Frey did, in fact, bring her wet fox into the house, not anticipating him to be wet for long. Since they had the place to themselves, he transformed as soon as they crossed the threshold. Exactly as she anticipated, he crossed his arms and sulked--but what she didn't expect was for his djinn form to be completely soaked through, as well, complete with larger, droopier ears.

“I didn’t think--” She dissolved into a fit of giggles, taking a moment to compose herself beneath the heat of his glare. “--that you would still be wet when you changed back!”

“Unfortunately for you,” he replied crossly. He looked positively outraged, lips set in a hard line as another rivulet of water trickled along his sculpted cheekbone, dripping from his chin.

“Unfortunately for me?” She stifled another laugh, clamping her hand over her mouth as his expression remained unchanged. “It seems like you’re the only one experiencing misfortune at the present moment.”

“We’ll soon share in that misfortune,” was his cryptic response, and then he took a couple of deliberate steps toward her. His cerulean eyes softened as they transitioned from anger to mischief, pinning her down with their unrelenting intensity.

All at once she was aware of his intention, yet she was powerless to stop it, and she squeaked as she was enveloped in his sopping wet embrace. She struggled hopelessly in the circle of his steellike arms, her cheek smashed against the soggy fabric of his vest, and the low chuckle that resounded against her ear made her shiver. If he mentioned it, she would blame it on the chill of the cold water, but in truth, the timbre of his voice had a more complex effect on her.

She groaned in protest, thankful that he was unable to glimpse her undoubtedly reddened cheeks, and cringed as she felt moisture begin to seep into her clothes. Her arms were trapped beneath his own, but she still had adequate range of motion, so she managed to wrap them around his waist and tug at the ends of his long, wet hair.

“Hey! Stop that.” His tone, irritated just a few short moments ago, had lost its edge. His demand was half-hearted.

She felt his grip slacken and his stiff muscles relax, but he made no move to release her. He actually leaned into her a bit more and then, to her surprise, he lowered his head and rested his chin on her shoulder. A subtle, content sigh ghosted her ear and it struck her that he almost certainly hadn’t experienced a hug for an unfathomable amount of time. The energy that pulsed beneath his skin--like a steady electric current--warmed and soothed her despite the state of her clothes, and she found herself squeezing him tightly in response.

However long they stood there and clung to one another, it wasn’t enough--it occurred to her that she didn’t want to let go; she wanted to hold him so tightly that he would be rooted in this spot, unable to vanish. She kept thinking that there had to be a way, that it had to be possible to keep him here... but deep within the recesses of her mind, she knew she was just suppressing a reality she refused to accept. He would leave, she would stay--and she would forget.

Inevitably, as desperately as she wished not to--if only that could be her wish--they separated. His eyes were partially obscured by his light cyan hair, several strands of which were clinging to the sides of his face, plastered there with water. She wanted to brush them aside, and she almost did, but his expression stopped her--he was clearly distressed, an emotion he hadn’t often displayed.

“Um, I… I should probably change my clothes," she stuttered, flustered by his reaction. She couldn't decide whether he would appreciate her attempts at comfort or not. "I feel kind of bad, now, that I got you all wet. I really didn’t think--”

“Oh, I could have instantly dried off the moment we came inside. I just wanted to make you feel guilty, which seems to have worked.” He grinned smugly and just like that, as usual, he seamlessly masked his sadness.

“Ugh, I should have known. I was going to take you somewhere, since Dolce’s gone, but now…” She held her hands out in a dismissive gesture, playfully shrugging her shoulders in an attempt to cheer him up.

He hesitated long enough to make her uncomfortable, grin deepening. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“It--it isn’t a date! I just thought of something that I know you’d be really interested in.” She puffed out her cheeks and hurried down the hallway before he could glimpse her blush, hiding in her closet and removing the wet clothes that were uncomfortably sticking to her skin.

When she emerged in a clean, dry outfit--another pair of jeans and an unremarkable blue t-shirt, the opposite of proper date attire--he was reading in his typical spot without a trace of water on him. It seemed that every aspect of his appearance could be reverted to normal with a snap of his fingers, meaning he always looked immaculate--except for when she decided to intervene, of course.

“So… just out of mild curiosity… where were we going to go?” He didn't look up, obviously pretending to be less interested than he actually was. Her ability to interpret his expressions had improved greatly over the last couple of weeks.

“I knew you couldn’t resist asking," she replied smoothly, sitting on the edge of her bed in front of him. When she parted her lips to continue, she abruptly decided against it. It was fun to give him a taste of his own medicine and respond to a question without actually answering it.

He flipped a page before eventually raising his head, staring blankly at her. When she didn't react, he blinked slowly and frowned before returning to his reading. She wondered how long it would take for him to grow impatient enough to question her again, and with substantial difficulty, she remained completely silent.

As it turned out, his patience wore thin just shy of the ten minute mark. He lifted his head again and his expression was annoyed enough that she involuntarily cracked a smile, causing his lips to tilt in the opposite direction. Before she knew it, they were having a staring contest, and he had an unfair advantage--he frequently maintained steady eye contact regardless of the situation, so he had plenty of practice.

Since she couldn't relinquish his gaze to glance at the clock, she had no clue how much time had elapsed, but she was beginning to lose the battle. His eyes were startlingly blue, for one thing, so gorgeous that apparently a whole month wasn't long enough to grow accustomed to them. Combined with how soft--almost affectionate?--his expression was, it made her think back to their lingering embrace. Her cheeks burned in remembrance and she cursed internally, gnawing her lip.

She could swear he was even struggling then, blinking his full eyelashes more often, so maybe her flushed skin was distracting him. As embarrassing as it was, she tempted herself to blush deeper by imagining the sensation of his chest molding against hers. She could still feel his body heat, which had persisted despite how cold and wet their clothing had been, as well as the tickle of his impossibly silky hair against her ear.

Suddenly he forcibly exhaled, like he had been holding his breath, and his eyes flicked to the side. His face was clouded by sorrow, reminiscent of the expression that had followed their hug, and her heart panged. "It's not fair when you look at me like that."

"Like what…?" she breathed, her voice scarcely above a whisper. She couldn't even revel in her victory because his reaction was so unexpected; she had been certain that he would win, tease her about it for the remainder of the day, and that would be that.

"Nevermind," he replied curtly after several tense moments. All traces of warmth were leached from his eyes as he shifted his attention to the book once again. Following the tender moment they just shared, his abrupt change in demeanor was startling. "Forget it."

"Why does it matter if you tell me? I am going to ‘forget it’--forget everything--anyway, right?" Her voice sounded harsher than she intended, and his head immediately snapped back up. She hadn’t meant to lash out, but she was frustrated by his tendency to open the door, only to close it right in her face every time.

"You won't remember, but I will." He slammed his book shut, the only time she had ever seen him treat one without the utmost respect. He carelessly dropped it on the table and stood, crossing his arms defensively as he approached her. "So forgive me, but I'd rather not indulge in human sentiment any more than I already have."

"Then why do you want to stay, if I’m torturing you so much?" She rose to her feet, as well, facing him head-on. Her voice increased in volume, a far cry from her usual, amicable way of speaking. It felt like their emotions had finally boiled over, unleashing a torrent of scalding words, and they were past the point of containment. "I thought you were happy like this, and if you aren’t, why pretend? You haven’t mentioned my wish in weeks.”

"It’s not like I ever had a choice in the matter, so I’ve been making the best of the situation. And now I am happy, which is precisely the problem--don’t you understand?" he growled through clenched teeth. He was more successful at dampening his volume, but he matched her harsh tone. She had never seen him like this, so wrought with emotion that if he had actual fire in his eyes, it wouldn't surprise her. "I'm in the palm of your hand. You should have made your wish as soon as I appeared, like everyone else does, and then we wouldn't be in this predicament."

"You're right... I’m sorry, Leo.”

She didn’t want to, and she knew she would never want to, which was exactly why she had to do it now. It was too late, but ‘better late than never’ was painfully accurate in this case, especially as the truth struck her--she had been essentially holding him hostage out of selfishness, knowing he would be the only one to endure their separation in the end. What had begun as an honest inability to settle on a wish had rapidly evolved into something else entirely, and it was all her fault.

Her hands were shaking and she clenched them into fists. Her eyes quivered with tears and she squeezed them shut. She couldn't look at him when she said it. She couldn’t handle the knowledge that she would never again witness the mirth in his cerulean eyes when she blushed, the aggravatingly endearing smirk he wore when he teased her, or the way his blue hair glowed white when he read beneath her window, bathed in the light of the moon.

Most agonizing of all, their connection was undeniable. It was painful to imagine life without him, even though scarcely a month had passed. They had spent hours conversing every day, often continuing into the night--and when they weren’t talking, he was always nearby, whether he was reading or watching her work.

But in a few brief seconds, she wouldn’t know what she was missing, and maybe she could spare him any additional grief--that was the only thought that gave her the courage to part her lips.

"I wish… I wish that--!" 

Chapter Text

He had been an undetected guest within the walls of countless homes and establishments, but their occupants had all been blissfully unaware. They had continued living their lives normally each day, completely oblivious, ignorant to the fact that he was privy to nearly every conversation that passed through their lips. Whether those discussions were conducted in hushed whispers or raised voices, he heard them, gleaning any information that sounded useful.

Even after all of this time, it seemed strange--wrong, even--to eavesdrop so eagerly. He never felt particularly guilty, though. Sounds from the outside were his sole source of entertainment, as well as the only opportunity for him to learn about the ever-changing world. He avidly committed new words and terminology to memory, for he didn’t recall the sensation of physical hunger or thirst, but his mind longed for nourishment of the intellectual kind.

He had been effectively invisible within the confines of this bottle, a reality he had long ago accepted--so long ago, in fact, that he had lost track of the precise number of years. He could easily calculate them, if he so wished, but merely considering it terrified him. And so he remained, a specter of the ancient past, until some unwitting human temporarily granted him a brief reprieve… a bitter taste of the life he would never again experience.

And then one day, that human was her.

The fleeting taste of freedom, as bitter as it was--maybe that wasn’t an accurate way to describe it, actually, because his favorite foods were bitter. He still remembered that, even though he was incapable of truly recalling its flavor, nor the tanginess of sour, salty cuisine. He couldn't even imagine the sensation of spices searing his tongue, and especially not the tingle of pungent, mildly poisonous dishes numbing his lips. Not anymore.

He missed that--in the same vague, ungraspable way he missed fishing and bathing in a hot spring--but not enough to let it bother him. If he had the chance to experience those things again, however, and the memory was once again fresh in his mind, the pain would be renewed. It was foolish to slice open a healed wound, especially one that had scarred over literal centuries ago.

And yet he had done precisely that--several times over, in fact, just in the past month.

Because he was at the mercy of Frey's wish, he had no choice but to remain here. The temptation of pretending to be human--and gods, did he feel far removed--in the meantime had proven to be too much. Recklessly, he had allowed enough time to pass that he had tasted far, far more than a sample of what life had to offer. If he had any semblance of control left, he had misplaced it somewhere.

He regretted that, in the heat of the moment, he had unfairly blamed her for their predicament--he was ultimately the one at fault. He could have bothered her incessantly until she made a wish; he could have insisted on it. He could have distanced himself instead of fostering attachment. The decision to spend inordinate amounts of time with her had been his own, and in the same way he had greedily devoured every book she brought him, he had soaked up her attention--even subsisted on it.

It was difficult to reject her compassion, her empathy. When was the last time a master had even bothered to consider that he might be bored or lonely? That somewhere hidden beneath his provocative, ostentatious exterior lay the remains of a man tricked into eternal servitude? There wasn’t a last time because it had never happened before. Not ever. Not once in 400 fucking years.

She was an enigma. Nothing to wish for? Ha. It was absurd. Every previous master had needed a few minutes to deliberate, at most, before predictably coming to an extravagant conclusion. But after spending a single day with Frey, he realized she wasn’t bluffing; it wasn't some self-satisfied act of humility or a self-imposed exercise in restraint. She was just happy, plain and simple, and he would find her cheerful optimism contagious in another reality.

In an effort to preserve that happiness, he had denied knowledge of the consequences he would face--that he was already facing--as a result of lingering outside for so long. He had been lying about it since their very first conversation, and he didn't think she had noticed yet, but his power was dwindling. He had lost the ability to summon fire with an effortless snap of his fingers, and he could no longer silently influence a flower to bloom on a whim. She had reacted to both with pure, childlike wonder, and he would miss evoking that response.

As his magic faded, so did he. He sensed a strange, hazy blurriness in his peripheral vision, like the familiar darkness of his bottle was gradually closing in on him. It took him twice as long to finish a book because he wasn’t absorbing information as efficiently. The last time Frey complained about being tired, he asked her to describe it because he couldn’t remember what it felt like. She answered that it was like every muscle in your body went on strike, so you had to give yourself a pep talk just to get off the couch… he was tired.

He had known this would happen, of course--none of it was a surprise to him. In the same way he innately knew he was incapable of granting a wish as grandiose as world peace, he knew that failing to return to his bottle would eventually drain him of energy. Once he was exhausted of it, he would be forced back inside and essentially reset. The aftermath would be the same as if she made her wish--as far as her memories were concerned--and he would move on to another master against his will.

Although she would forget, that didn’t justify implying that her feelings were insignificant, and he regretted his harshness. For that reason and a multitude of others he didn't quite comprehend, when the two dreaded words unexpectedly left her mouth--with abrupt, impassioned determination--his instant reaction was to stop her. He desperately wanted to stop her--to apologize to her, to thank her, to tell her he would miss her every day for the rest of his miserable existence.

The magic phrase hung in the air once, then twice when she faltered and repeated herself. He was frozen, focusing on her trembling lips in anticipation of the subsequent word, and his skin tingled uncomfortably. The spark originated in the palms of his hands, similar to the sensation of conjuring fire, except now it burned a trail up his arms--wrapping around his neck and projecting from his eyes, striking a path along his spine and down the backs of his legs, inundating him with power.

Her eyelids remained tightly shut, countering her parted lips, but the magic permeating the room was palpable. He knew she could feel it envelop her as the invisible energy tousled her mint hair and ruffled her shirt, and she reacted by ducking her head and clenching her fists. If she peeked, she would have witnessed him levitating several feet above the floor, surrounded by undulating waves of fire, eyes aflame.

As much as he wanted to gaze into her effervescent green eyes one final time, he was thankful that she refused to open them. It was upsetting enough that their last conversation had become a heated argument; it would torment him if the last expression he saw was distressed--or worse, terrified as she recoiled from him. He wanted to remember her smiles, especially the one that had accompanied her blush every morning when their eyes first met.

He wanted to commit her melodic laugh to memory, too, and he was meditating on the sound of it when-- instead of continuing to make her wish--she sobbed despairingly. He stared at her in bewilderment, fiery eyes blown wide, shivering as the undulating flames surrounding him dissipated... and his magic fizzled out.

Her throat felt sore, constricted by her uncontrollable sobs. Hot tears sprang from her closed eyes, lips quivering as a result of the immense power the magical words commanded. Even though she had every intention of following through, speaking them had shaken her to the core, and her voice had rebelled against her--she couldn't force the rest of the words out.

The fathomless energy that emanated from him, overwhelming her with searing, tangible waves of magic, was proof of how close she had come to losing him. Her vision was blurry, flooded with persistent tears when she opened her eyes, so she couldn't see Leo. He was little more than a hazy outline as he remained stationary on the opposite side of her room, but she could imagine how angry he was.

She was still incapable of following through with a wish after all this time, even after acknowledging it would benefit him, and she felt crushed by the weight of her guilt and shame. She roughly swiped at her tears with the backs of her hands as she turned away from him, stumbling down the hall. He was always so stealthy that she had no idea if he was following her as she shoved through the back door, slamming it behind her and storming through the gate. Dusk had arrived with a quickness, blanketing the field behind her house in purple shadows.

She walked so quickly that she was practically jogging, even on unsteady legs, and she only stopped when she arrived at her favorite stargazing spot. It was a fairly large, isolated hill that was steep enough to roll down, and she wasn’t embarrassed to admit how she knew that. Carpeted with plush green grass, decorated with tiny yellow wildflowers and situated near a huge, gnarled oak tree, it was the most comforting place she knew of.

As she dropped heavily to her knees at the peak of the hill, panting softly, she wondered how she had allowed herself to act so selfishly--and even worse, to live in denial of it until now. His existence was surely torturous enough without her meddling in it, and if every additional memory of her would make it considerably more painful for him, why couldn't she let him go? She dwelled on that harrowing thought, brushing away tears that had dried in long, thin rivulets across her flushed cheeks.

The moon was full and the sky was clear, the ideal night for stargazing, but she couldn’t manage to appreciate it. Instead, she sorrowfully made a mental list of everything she had forced him to endure: he had been awake for thirty straight days, since he couldn’t sleep outside of his bottle; he essentially lived in her room, only capable of leaving it in fox form; he witnessed her daily routine and habits, constantly reminded of the simple tasks that he would never experience again. Those were only a few of the biggest things; there were so many more. And yet he had never even complained, unless she counted his playful jabs and sarcastic comments.

He seemed happy most of the time, which was exactly the problem, as he had just reminded her. All of this--every second he remained outside his bottle--was delaying the inevitable, prolonging his suffering, and he must be acutely aware of that. The only thing she had to do in order to help him was speak a few words. That was it! Then why couldn’t she?

Sniffling, she sank into the grass and crossed her legs. The ground already felt cold beneath her, following the departure of the sun, and the evening breeze was brisk as it skirted around the hill. She was so preoccupied with her troubled thoughts, idly stroking her fingers through a patch of delicate wildflowers, that she didn’t realize she was shivering--nor did she sense that she wasn’t alone anymore, not until he was right behind her.

When he spoke, she didn’t turn around--she still didn’t have the courage to face him. His voice was husky and he sounded drained… fatigued and sapped of energy. Waves of magic always rolled off of him and caught her in their wake, which she had grown accustomed to, but now they felt subdued. She blinked away fresh tears that stung her reddened eyes, brimming with remorse and riddled with guilt.

“What were you going to wish for?”

“That you had the option to be free… but I suddenly lost my voice and I couldn’t say it. So I tried to wish that you could choose to be human again, or that you had a choice about anything at all--but I couldn’t say those, either. I tried to reword them in so many different ways."

“That’s because I can’t grant any of those wishes… we talked about that.”

“I had to try. I’m so sorry, Leo. I’ll wish for something trivial so you can leave.”

“Don’t.”

“Huh? Don’t wish for something trivial?”

“Don’t try to make your wish at all.”

Chapter Text

“Don’t try to make your wish at all.”

She was so astonished by those words that she finally snapped her head around, and her expression instantly became one of concern. His eyes were always intensely radiant, even in the dark, but now they seemed dimmer--still a gorgeous shade of blue, but muted in comparison. His body appeared to be just as tired as his voice sounded, and if he was capable of sleeping, she would have forced him to go to bed that very second.

“But why?" she asked gently, gazing up at him with turbulent green eyes. "Just a few minutes ago, you were angry that I didn't make my wish in the very beginning."

“I apologize. I had no right to be angry with you.” His tone was so sincere and laced with regret that it temporarily rendered her speechless. She could do little more than stare up at him with her lips parted, attempting to form words.

“What are you talking about?" She eventually found her voice, which caught in her throat as he wearily lowered himself down next to her. She took a deep breath and continued, further concerned by the atypical pallor of his cheeks. "You have every right. I’ve made things so much harder on you… first because I couldn’t decide on a wish, and then because I started to avoid making one at all.”

“It’s true that by indulging me, you’ve reminded me of what I’m missing out on. However, I encouraged it.” He was regarding her with a considerably more solemn expression than she was used to, which worried her most of all. He faced her and bent one of his knees toward his chest so he could rest his arm upon it.

“But still--” She held her hands out in frustration, then frowned and dropped them in her lap when he shot her a pointed look.

“Hush," he replied softly, shaking his head. "Stop trying to take the blame. During the first week, every time you mentioned making your wish, I always brushed you off and asked for another book--remember? And after that, we fell into a comfortable routine… like this lifestyle was sustainable, somehow, if we just ignored the truth.”

“Like you said before, though…" She sighed wearily and picked at a blade of grass, absently shredding it with her fingers. "If I had made my wish right away, none of this would have happened in the first place.”

“I’m glad you didn’t." His eyes drifted upward as he spoke, and the moonlight almost managed to restore their luster. "Then or now.”

“You are?” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she studied his stoic countenance. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m thankful for the opportunity to know you, however fleeting. And the moment those two words left your mouth, I realized how much I still need to share with you,” he replied with conviction.

“But I thought…” Her mouth suddenly went dry and she swallowed thickly. “You didn’t seem open to sharing anymore.”

He shifted his attention away from the full moon and back to her, steadily meeting her eyes again. “I was wrong.”

“Huh?” She tilted her head, puzzled by his sudden change of heart.

“The way you feel now is important. I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge that before.”

She shook her head adamantly and her twintails swayed from side to side, flowing over her shoulders as they were caught in the breeze. “But I’ve been thinking, and I actually agree with what you said earlier. I understand. It’s okay.”

“You don’t withhold information from a person who is on their deathbed. This is in the same vein, is it not? When someone passes away, they don’t retain any memories of their past relationships, either--does that mean you shouldn’t bother expressing emotion, since everyone will eventually cease to be and their memories will expire along with them?”

“Geez, that’s kind of a morbid example…”

“Maybe a touch morbid. But consider the other side of things, as well. When someone close to you dies, you regret that you didn’t spend enough time with them--it’s always too little, never too much. And of course thinking about them is painful, especially in the beginning, but you cherish your memories of them just the same.”

"I appreciate the thought, but my very temporary feelings still aren’t worth causing you any extra discomfort,” she insisted, gazing up at him imploringly.

“You’re not listening.” His tone was endlessly patient, yet somehow she felt like she was being scolded at the same time. “The Frey that exists in this moment, however temporary, is no less important than the Frey who won’t remember me.”

“Leo… I am listening. It's just...” She didn't know what else to say. It was still impossible to imagine that she would never mourn his absence, as he would hers. What remained of her memories would undoubtedly be riddled with holes, pieced together between missing gaps in time. “Since you’re the one who will remember, it’s best that you decide whether I release you now or not.”

"It’s been a conundrum… do I choose to wonder what could have been, or to reminisce about what was?" His face was tilted toward the heavens when he next spoke, tone laced with deeply reflective, heart-wrenching melancholy. The next gust of wind tugged at his long, light cyan tresses, splaying them across the grass behind him. “If my past is any indication, I’ll regret what I didn’t do most of all.”

Her chest tightened as the meaning of his words settled over her, and for several moments, they sat in silence. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t tense, either. She felt suspended somewhere in between, unsure of what her next move should be--if she could even summon the courage to move at all. For now, she decided to admire him openly, noticing how serene his expression was… his aura didn’t feel as heavy, now, although the energy that enveloped him was noticeably weakening.

“It’s still not fair when you look at me like that, Little Moth,” he sighed, but this time he wore a soft smile that reached his azure eyes--and because it was accompanied by the infrequently used term of endearment, she immediately felt a blush creep up her neck. He tenderly captured her gaze like he had earlier in the day, except now they were scarcely two feet apart.

“It’s not fair when you look at me like that, either,” she countered, mesmerized, and she couldn’t even hope to out-stare him due to their proximity. She glanced down after mere seconds, nibbling her bottom lip as she eyed the narrow space between them, and then she impulsively closed the gap--hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder.

“I suppose that if we’re equally unfair to one other, it becomes fair again.” His voice was hushed and gentle as he wound his arm around her narrow waist, tucking her against his side. The teal fur that adorned his shoulder tickled her cheek, but it was incredibly soft, and she nuzzled against it. 

“That’s… a strange way of looking at it, but I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right.” The arm around her squeezed tighter, making her giggle, and she was acutely aware of his hand gripping the curve of her waist. It felt like that specific area of her body was suddenly more receptive, making the slightest movement of his hand trivialize all of her other senses. “Now listen while I regale you with further examples of my intelligence.”

“What, just because you read a few books in the last month, you think you’re a genius now?” she teased. Her head remained against his shoulder and she tilted it back so she could see his face. His cheeks were pinker now, but she wasn’t sure if he was starting to feel better or merely blushing.

“Dozens of books,” he replied haughtily, playfully narrowing his eyes before motioning to the clear sky. The last traces of purple had vanished, enveloping them in inky blackness. “And it just so happens that some of my newly acquired knowledge is particularly useful right now, since we have such a fantastic view of the stars.”

“This is actually where I planned to take you tonight… and we ended up here, after all,” she breathed, studying his unique profile. He seemed so out of place in modern surroundings, but out here--they could essentially be anywhere, in any time period, and still be sitting beneath the same moon.

“Pfft, here?” He twisted at the waist and faced her, hand shifting to the small of her back as he stared down at her with disbelieving eyes. They still looked tired but retained their mischievous spark, and now she could tell that he was definitely blushing; his high cheekbones were tinged rosy-pink. “Really?”

“Hey!” She tried her best to glare at him, but his closeness was overwhelming and she had a feeling she resembled a deer in headlights, instead. “This is my favorite place. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing is wrong with it at all, but you said you weren’t taking me on a date--stargazing is as romantic as it gets, undisputed since the beginning of time.” His lopsided grin caused her heart to leap into her throat and she held her breath, finding herself unable to break eye contact this time.

“F-fine. It’s a date, then.” Her cheeks burned, mirroring his, and the corner of his mouth twitched higher. “Happy?”

“Mhm… getting there.” He chuckled softly and shifted so he was facing forward again, returning his hand to the curve of her waist, and she leaned heavily against his shoulder.

She was about to laugh and ask what it would take, but then he gingerly slipped his fingers beneath hers and lifted her hand from her knee, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. It was such a simple touch, yet so intimate, and it meant more to her than words could convey. Her body reacted more intensely than seemed reasonable, shivering imperceptibly with each caress.

She was mesmerized by the contrast of their skin, his being a few shades darker than hers. Her pink nail polish was chipped, doing a poor job of disguising her unkempt nails--it seemed impossible to have pretty ones, considering she spent her days digging in the dirt, and it wasn’t something she gave much thought to. Alongside Leo’s immaculate nails, which were painted a shade of turquoise that matched the elaborate markings on his face, they further reminded her of her humanity.

“It’s odd,” he mused, hesitating briefly as he observed their peaceful surroundings. “The night sky is one of the few things I expected to remain familiar, considering it takes thousands of years for it to change drastically. It’s only been about 400 years, though, and it already looks different to me.”

“Well… I’m sure the sky was much, much clearer back then,” she replied thoughtfully. She struggled to focus on her response instead of the feelings his soft touch was eliciting. “Now there’s a lot of interference from light pollution, unless you’re somewhere isolated. It’s not as bad here in Selphia, but it’s awful in large cities.”

“The modern world is so strange to me that it’s probably a blessing I can’t revert to being human. I’m not sure how well I’d cope.” He leaned his head against hers as he spoke, and she had the feeling he was trying to convince himself that humanity wasn’t something he desired, after all. The thought made fresh tears brim her eyes, which she hastily blinked away.

“I’d be here to help you,” she replied earnestly, but her voice cracked. She sniffled and hoped he didn’t notice.

“I would want to go everywhere, do everything…I’d drive you crazy in the span of a few days.” He undoubtedly sensed the need for a touch of humor in that moment, and his shoulders shook slightly as he laughed. His grip on her hand tightened in a gesture of comfort.

“No you wouldn’t,” she tittered, feeling a bit lighter--just enough to suppress the threat of additional tears. “It’d be a blast.”

“I’d love to push the boundaries and see how long that theory holds up.”

“I’m sure you would.”

This time, the lingering silence was welcome and entirely comfortable. They turned into one another and she closed her eyes as she snuggled against his broad chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. His warm arms encircled her, shielding her from the breeze that was growing chillier by the minute, and she soothingly rubbed his back.

In that moment, he felt equally human. His elevated heartbeat and shallow breaths matched hers, and she briefly allowed herself to pretend. In this self-indulgent dream state where time was no object, they weren't embracing with a sense of desperation, longing to tether themselves to each other--they were embracing just as they would on any other night, like any other couple, admiring the stars on a whim.

Her hands weren't clenching the back of his vest because she feared he would vanish. His lips weren't pressed to her forehead with the lingering sadness of a goodbye kiss. Her tears weren't out of misery, but of elation. His sigh wasn't full of dread, but of contentment. She wasn't scared. He wasn't tired.

She would remember; she wouldn't forget.

Chapter Text

She held his hand as they walked down the hill, across the field, through the gate, past her garden, through the back door, and down the hallway. It seemed that since he had offered it, she had no plans to relinquish it, least of all when they reached her bedroom. She only squeezed his fingers more tightly as she turned to face him, and her beautiful green eyes roved over his face with apparent concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I’m worried that my almost-wish exhausted you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Can you--will you--I want you to--” She sighed with exasperation, like she often did when she was trying to avoid wording anything as a request, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He still hadn’t admitted that he made up that rule to aggravate her, and why tell her now? Her frustration was adorable.

“You could always show me,” he suggested with a smirk, enjoying the resulting blush. He sensed that she wasn’t simply having trouble articulating what she wanted--more than that, she was embarrassed to express it. He would never tire of how cute she looked when she was flustered, something else he would miss, so he just quietly watched her squirm.

After a moment, she bit her lip--he would miss that, too, he realized. He would miss it all. Every expression, every habit, every sound. Everything. Absolutely everything. He hoped it was possible to commit it all to memory.

“Um…” Only then did she release his hand, walking purposefully across the room and lifting his current reading material from the table. He had all but exhausted the library’s history and astronomy books, so he had moved on to novels--which she chose, since he wasn’t able to peruse the selection himself. He learned that he didn’t appreciate fiction much, no matter the theme, but it still helped pass the time while she was sleeping.

He observed curiously as she carried the paperback book over to her bed, then set it on top of the comforter with a sheepish smile. Evidently the chair, in which he had read every night for the past month, was no longer adequate. She probably wanted to hold his hand even as she slept--to reassure herself of his presence--and he decided against revealing that his disappearance overnight was a likely possibility. There was no sense in tainting their last moments together with fear and apprehension, especially since she would forget him the very second he vanished.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Don’t--” She sighed, annoyed with her inability to word things as she believed she should. Lately, she had become skilled at it, so she was probably distracted. “I hope you don’t go anywhere.”

He laughed and shook his head, feeling his expression soften as he returned her gaze. She had noticed that his power was waning, so maybe she suspected he didn’t have long. She was always so perceptive. “There’s nowhere to go, and regardless, there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

She seemed pleased by that response, evidenced by the endearing pink blush that reclaimed her cheeks. She walked past him on her way to the bathroom but hesitated, lingering in the doorway, and then she spun around. He wasn’t surprised by her impulse to hug him again, this time with her arms draped over his shoulders, and he leaned down to nuzzle his face in the curve of her neck. Her pleasant scent--traces of flowers, grass, and sunshine--reflected who she was.

She squeezed him tighter and made a soft, displeased sound that suggested she didn’t want to let him go. After several more seconds, she did, but not without obvious reluctance--a reluctance he shared. Nonetheless, he gave her a gentle, encouraging shove toward the bathroom, and she giggled as she disappeared behind the door.

He sighed into the empty room. It was deafeningly silent, and as he stood there, it suddenly dawned on him that he could no longer sense anything beyond those walls. His perception was fading along with his energy. He twitched his ears and closed his eyes in an attempt to focus, but he could only discern the sound of running water in the bathroom. It was disconcerting.

There was absolutely nothing that could remedy this. He reminded himself of that. It was pointless to dwell on something he had no control over. He wouldn’t allow it to occupy his mind; he resolved to be fully present during his remaining time here.

With that decision made, he crossed the room and stared down at the novel. He wondered if she expected him to get into bed fully clothed, or if she would prefer that he changed into bedclothes of some sort. It was strange to consider. He hadn’t worn anything besides his current garb in 400 years; there had never been a reason to change. Could he even remember what he used to wear to bed? It was a predicament unfamiliar enough to make him laugh.

Thankfully, altering his own appearance consumed a scarce amount of magic--otherwise he would look rather haggard and unkempt by now. He concentrated, attempting to visualize suitable bedclothes, and his memory suddenly clicked. He used to sleep in excessively boring attire, a plain brown robe, which was a far cry from what he wore now. But that was probably for the best, however tempted he was to see her reaction if he chose something equally flamboyant.

When the simple, thin robe replaced his complicated attire, his turban also vanished. It felt indescribably odd to be free of its weight, to the point that he almost changed back--especially when he turned the sheets down on her bed. He stared, and stared, and stared. The last time he rested in a bed was at that tiny inn, right before… he closed his eyes, breathed, and suppressed his uneasiness.

He sat upright with his back pressed against the wooden headboard, pulling the floral-patterned sheets up to his waist. He would likely feel more comfortable when she came back, but for now, it seemed like he was in the midst of a bizarre dream. When he opened the novel to distract himself, his eyes skimmed the words but failed to actually read them. He was trying to process the same passage for the third time, only moderately successful, when the bathroom door swung open.

She was fresh-faced and rosy-cheeked, wearing a modest purple nightgown that was nearly long enough to reach her knees, but it made his heart race nonetheless. Her hair was already braided and still wet, making it appear dark green instead of mint, and he thought she was more lovely than ever. But he thought that each and every time he saw her, no matter what she was wearing, even when she was covered in potting soil--especially when she was covered in potting soil; her smile was always the brightest then.

“You changed your clothes,” she murmured, blinking in surprise before she approached. “I didn’t know if you could do that or not.”

“This is the first and only time I’ve tried, and probably the last. I feel…” He wasn’t typically at a loss for words, unless he was completely overwhelmed, and this was certainly one of those times.

“Are you uncomfortable?” she asked gently, concern etched into her delicate features. She froze when her knees touched the bed, and she appeared to be waiting patiently for his response.

“Yes and no,” he replied with a thoughtful tilt of his head, eyes drifting across the room as he searched for the appropriate words. Again, he was at a loss. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“You don’t have to stay--”

“I know. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t seem anxious about sliding into bed next to him, although her rapidly darkening cheeks said otherwise. His breath hitched as she grabbed her pillow and propped it against his thigh, facing away from him and settling her head upon it. She curled into herself and he hummed in amusement at her cuteness.

“I wouldn’t mind if you read aloud.” She sounded hopeful. Her unique scent had been washed away, replaced by her citrusy shampoo, but it was equally familiar and comforting to him.

“You want me to read to you?” He rubbed his hand back and forth along her upper arm, and she sighed contentedly as a result of his touch. “I’m not sure this would make a suitable bedtime story.”

“I don’t care… it’s just nice to listen to your voice. You can even read the dictionary if you want.”

“That's ridiculous,” he chuckled, leaning over to glimpse her expression. He found her emerald eyes sparkling with mirth. “You would fall asleep before I reached the end of the first page.”

“I would not,” she laughed, snuggling further into his lap. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you a story, actually, but it’s not within the pages of any book.” He set the novel aside and took a fortifying breath, linking his fingers with hers. 

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Before," he answered softly. He felt compelled to tell her, but the topic was still difficult. He idly caressed the back of her small hand with his thumb. "Would you like to hear it?”

“Of course I would.” She had instantly adopted a serious tone, going completely still.

"When I was a human… I used to enjoy reading, writing, and fishing, but especially traveling. I was a scribe, so I could find work almost anywhere I went. I wasn't fond of staying in one place for very long, always in search of adventure and excitement. I wanted to see the entire world--which is next to impossible, of course, but that thought just made my urge to explore even stronger. I may have continued that lifestyle for the rest of my life… but I eventually married, and my wife wanted to put down roots.”

He hesitated when Frey, who had been relaxed until that point, visibly tensed. He could see it in her slight shoulders and feel it in the steely grip of her hand. That information was undoubtedly shocking to her, but she didn't interrupt or turn around. He continued to trail the fingers of his other hand up and down her arm, and the repetitive motion soothed him as well.

"I finally agreed, but not long after we were settled, a plague began to spread. Almost every household in our region suffered from it, including mine. My wife and I contracted the illness, and after she passed… I felt guilty and devastated that I survived without her. I didn't know what to do with myself; I just knew I couldn't stay there. So I left everything behind."

“Leo…” This time she rose to her knees, watery eyes exuding sympathy as they searched his face. She grasped both of his hands and held them in her lap, squeezing them in a gesture of comfort, and her sweet voice wavered as she spoke. “I never imagined--I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s all right. I’ve had many, many years to come to terms with it,” he responded gently, giving her a soft, reassuring smile. So many years, in fact, that he could almost convince himself he had read it instead of experienced it. "When I had been drifting for a month or so, I passed through a small town, as I often did. A vendor selling trinkets caught my eye, and for reasons I didn't understand at the time, I was drawn to a particular bottle. It didn't make sense for me to buy it because I always packed light, only carrying what was necessary, but I couldn't resist."

“So the bottle wordlessly called out to you, as it did to me…”

"Mhm. Several days later, I stopped at an inn to rest, and I was suddenly so curious about the bottle that I couldn't sleep. I remember thinking I had finally lost my mind for getting up in the middle of the night just to open it, but the temptation was too great. You can probably imagine what happened next."

"Yeah," she breathed, continuing to hold his hands and listening intently.

"In my case, however, I knew immediately what I would wish for. I was clinging desperately to the hope that it would work, that I would see her again, but I couldn't speak the words because it's not a grantable wish… so I--wrought with grief and failing to consider the consequences--wished to obtain his power so I could resurrect her myself. The djinn granted my wish--to his own benefit."

"He swapped places with you?" she gasped, eyes widening. “So that’s how…”

"Yes. Other than that, I doubt there’s another way to be freed. Sometimes I wonder how many years he existed as a djinn… how foreign the world seemed once he became human again. I wonder what type of person he became."

"You don't hate him?" 

"Oh, I did at first, but I soon empathized with him. I was even grateful for a time, believe it or not. It was a relief that I no longer needed to eat or drink, since I had barely managed to force myself after my wife died. I was miserable in my sorrow and wandering aimlessly, so essentially hibernating in the bottle was a welcome respite.

After several years, I started to grow restless. That’s when I decided to listen and learn as much as I could, and each time I was summoned to grant a wish, I used that tiny window of opportunity to absorb my surroundings… so in some ways, my pursuit of knowledge keeps me sane. Time passes fairly quickly, especially when I’m sleeping, but it doesn’t make a difference--I’ll never reach the end. It probably took me 200 years to grasp the reality of that.”

“Leo…” Her voice wavered, thick with the promise of tears. “I can’t stand this. You’ve endured so much already. I don’t want you to--”

"Don't mourn me now,” he soothed, cupping her face and gazing into her eyes ardently. “Tomorrow hasn't yet arrived. Stay here with me in the present.”

Chapter Text

"Don't mourn me now,” he soothed, cupping her face and gazing into her eyes ardently. “Tomorrow hasn't yet arrived. Stay here with me in the present.”

Although her eyes were still flecked with hints of dread and anxiety, she was less tense, regarding him with a more peaceful expression. He stroked his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks, then couldn’t resist pinching them to lighten the mood. She yelped and he was rewarded with her vibrant blush and petulant scowl.

“Leo,” she growled, grabbing his wrists. She was still perched next to him on the bed, sitting on her knees, and she pinned his hands in her lap.

He smirked and basked in the heat of her glare, but it didn't last long. She released his hands and combed her fingers through a section of hair that had drifted over his shoulder, then smoothed it back into place as her expression softened. She traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers and her gaze was unguarded, displaying a depth of emotion that mesmerized him. For a lingering moment, they stared at each other sedately, and he was too stunned to react when she leaned forward.

Their foreheads made gentle contact first, followed by the sides of their noses as she nuzzled her face against his. His eyes drifted shut and he felt her soft breath against his cheek, the smoothness of her skin, the promise of her shapely lips ever so slightly out of reach. Her slender arms looped around his neck and he was drawn further and further into the soothing comfort of her embrace. It was almost believable that, as they held each other closely like this, time was suspended.

When she tilted her head, scarcely brushing her trembling lips across his, the featherlike contact made him shiver. He could hear her sharp intake of breath and feel her tense with hesitation before she drew back, cheeks burning as she rested her hands on his shoulders. Her brilliant green eyes were aglow with undisguised affection and it made his heart flutter.

He slowly inhaled and attempted to calm his racing pulse, leaning back against the headboard as he studied her, feeling conflicted. Just as he had forgotten nearly every other human sensation, he had forgotten what it was like to be kissed. It was intense--staggeringly so--and their lips had barely even touched yet. His last kiss had been with his wife, and he felt a tinge of guilt--not so much because he was kissing someone else after so many years, but because he could no longer recall her kiss.

She nibbled her lip and watched him expectantly, clearly wondering if he would reciprocate. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as her skin flushed, making her more irresistible to him than she already was, and what remained of his uncertainty gave way. He maintained eye contact as he gradually leaned in, then pressed light kisses to her warm pink cheeks and the upturned corners of her mouth. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat, clutching the sides of his robe, and it felt like his entire body was aflame--not unlike the sensation of being inundated with magic, but substantially more exhilarating.

He splayed his hands across her lower back and cautiously caressed her satiny lips with his own, echoing their first kiss but with slightly more pressure. He pulled back just enough to glimpse her half-lidded eyes as she wound her arms around his neck, and their third kiss was considerably bolder. They melded together softly, lips parted and breaths mingling, eyelashes fluttering against their cheeks. Neither of them progressed the kiss at first, simply delighting in their closeness, and his heartbeat thundered in his ears as he cradled the back of her head.

From that point forward, he lost count. Over and over, he tenderly met her lips, reveling in the all-consuming sensation. They were so enticingly supple, yielding so eagerly to his mouth, that he struggled to maintain composure. He found himself longing to crush her to him, drink her in, make her writhe and whimper with pleasure in his arms, but he managed to restrain the impulse. His lungs shuddered in his chest, forcing him to draw back, and her eyes were glassy when they drifted open.

When she looked at him, appearing slightly stunned, she giggled breathlessly and her face reddened. She had pressed so tightly against him that her hands were on either side of his head and his back was pinned against the headboard. Her laughter was contagious and they both smiled into the next kiss, making it clumsy and playful, and he chuckled as she collapsed against his chest. She sounded giddy and lighthearted, which lifted his spirits, and he cuddled her in his arms as he pressed chaste kisses to the top of her head.

“I had an inkling you were dominant in situations like this, and it seems I was correct. Are you sure that ‘master’ isn’t a suitable title after all?” he quipped, laughing when her head predictably popped up. 

“Don’t you dare start calling me that again,” she huffed, and her pout was so unbearably cute that he couldn't resist teasing her further. 

“You’ll always be my favorite master, Master Frey,” he purred with a deliberately provocative smirk.

She shot him a defiant look and, despite refusing to admit her feisty tendencies, she swung her leg over his waist and straddled his lap. His breath hitched and his eyes widened at her boldness, his blush returning with a vengeance as she cradled his face in her hands. He was experiencing so many foreign sensations at once that he could barely process them all; he felt somewhat timid, but he was also heady with desire, which eclipsed his insecurities.

***EXPLICIT CONTENT STARTS***

He had never been in this situation as a djinn, so he wasn’t sure if he was capable of following through, but the answer was made clear--very uncomfortably, considering she was seated directly on top of his rapidly growing arousal. Evidently she noticed, because she daringly rocked her hips as she slanted her mouth across his. He growled low in his throat and reciprocated with an abrupt sense of urgency, feeling intoxicated. His hands aimlessly roamed over her petite figure and she managed to untie his robe, tugging it open between impassioned kisses.

“I know I encouraged you to live in the moment, but… you’re certainly taking it to heart,” he rasped. He hissed through his teeth and dug his fingers into her hips when she rubbed against him again.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” she squeaked, and her passionate expression rapidly turned apologetic. Her curious hands, which had been thoroughly exploring his chest, froze. “I should’ve thought about how long it’s been since--!”

“I’ll manage,” he breathed, although he wasn’t terribly certain of that. Because she was sitting in his lap, he had to slightly tilt his head back to see her face--she seemed more intimidating that way, which amused him since she was so small in comparison--and he smirked up at her. “But yes, it’s been… an extremely long time, and you’re not exactly easing me back into it.”

“I’m sorry! Geez, I shouldn’t have--” She looked sheepish as she started to climb off him, but he tightened his grip on her narrow waist.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to stop, just that you could stand to be a little easier on me,” he drawled, grinning impishly as he kneaded her hips. “You’re not very patient.”

“That’s what you get for calling me Master Frey.” There was suddenly a formidable glint in her eyes and she smiled a little too sweetly, making him gulp. She had turned on a dime.

He didn’t know what he was anticipating, but it definitely wasn’t an affectionate kiss on the forehead. She continued pressing soft kisses along the side of his face as she gently massaged his shoulders, and he slowly relaxed as her hands combed through his hair. It felt nice, but her slight weight was still directly on top of his groin--which was no less encouraged, despite the change in pace--and he shifted to alleviate the pressure.

Her hands roamed higher as they continued to stroke his hair, and then he started to grow suspicious--a second too late, because she abruptly attacked his ears with her fingertips. They were unbearably sensitive and ticklish, which she was unfortunately aware of. Over the past couple of weeks, she had started retaliating whenever he patted her on the head, amused by his near-hysterical laughter.

His ears felt more ticklish than ever, probably because he was otherwise stimulated and his nerves were on edge, so he was breathlessly laughing after just a few seconds. He tried to squirm away from her--futilely, considering she was straddling his lap and he was pinned against the headboard--and she diabolically stroked the very tips. That made him cackle involuntarily, much to his chagrin, and he slapped her hands away before finally managing to capture them.

“Stop it, you,” he growled, trapping her treacherous hands at her sides and catching his breath. His mistreated ears flattened pitifully against the top of his head as he glared at her.

“No,” she chirped, without letting a second go to waste. The corner of her mouth tilted up in a flirtatious little smile, which thinly veiled her desire to provoke him.

“No?” He gasped in mock surprise as he tilted his head. He had to admit he found her defiant teasing to be maddeningly arousing, and he bit the inside of his cheek when she shifted her weight in his lap--undoubtedly on purpose. She moved again and, oh, it was definitely intentional. He bit his cheek harder.

“You’ll have to make me,” she purred, and he nearly choked on his own breath. His eyes widened and he could practically feel his pupils dilate in response to her seductive gaze. “What’s wrong? You look--” 

He cut her off with an open-mouthed kiss and she melted into him, threading her fingers in his hair again--which he remained suspicious of-- as his hands trailed along the curve of her hips. He unexpectedly grazed bare skin, and when he noticed her nightgown had hitched up around her waist and exposed the tops of her thighs, his cheeks burned even hotter. She leaned back and searched his face as he tentatively caressed the newly revealed skin, and then she reached down and grasped the hem of her nightgown. He was in awe and rendered speechless when she pulled it over her head, uncovering her milky white breasts mere inches from his face.

He must have looked as enraptured as he felt because she giggled and bit her lip, so irresistible in that moment that his control snapped. He lurched forward and closed his mouth around a rosy pink nipple, one hand on her lower back and the other behind her neck, bracing her as her head lolled back. She squeaked in surprise and then gasped, gripping the back of his head as he ground his hips into her--and then he realized, since she had unfastened his robe and shoved it out of the way, only paper thin barriers remained between them. Her core felt so tantalizingly hot and wet through the thin fabric that he couldn’t resist rocking against her repetitively, moaning as he kissed and nipped her breasts.

They were both panting as she coaxed him to lift his head, kissing him deeply before rising up on her knees. She yanked her underwear off so impatiently that he would’ve made fun of her, if he wasn’t removing his own with equally desperate impatience. Because she was still straddling him, it was physically awkward, and they ended up laughing breathlessly as they divested themselves of the offending garments.

The full moon was bright enough to partially illuminate her, highlighting her emerald eyes and the outline of her petite, curvy figure. Her smooth skin was dotted with cute freckles and lovingly kissed by the sun--more noticeably on the tops of her shoulders and above her shapely breasts--creating light tan lines. His curious eyes drifted downward, over her toned abdomen and then her firm thighs, as well as what lay between them. He noticed she was starting to look bashful, so he tried not to stare so intensely.

“You’re…” He expelled a ragged sigh and gazed back up at her with hazy, half-lidded eyes that couldn’t quite comprehend the sight before them. His mouth went dry and his brain was so scrambled that it felt incapable of producing a coherent thought, much less voicing it.

“I-I guess it’s more flattering when you’re speechless, since you always have something to say.”

“I’m only speechless because a word worthy of describing you doesn’t exist.”

“But what about ‘cute’?”

“You are incredibly cute, but that’s just my placeholder word. Now come here.”

She scooted forward until she was straddling his thighs again, sighing contentedly as his arms wrapped around her and she nuzzled the top of his head. He cupped her backside, marveling in its shape and firmness, drawing a moan from her lips as she trembled and clutched his shoulders. Encouraged, his hands roamed lower, stroking the backs of her thighs as she hovered over his lap. His erection felt like it was straining to reach her at this point, so stiff that it was almost painful, and he tilted his head back to gaze up at her imploringly.

He could feel the enticing heat emanating from between her legs, watching her face as his hand wandered with purpose. She whimpered when he slowly dragged his fingers along her slick folds, and at the same time, she reached down and tentatively stroked his length. He groaned as she kissed him in between gasps for breath, and he pressed into her hand as she writhed against his. He was surprised he had forgotten what this felt like--that it was even possible to forget it. It was probably best if he didn’t remember, considering…

He mentally slapped himself and refocused on the current moment as she searched his eyes, probably for any sign of hesitation. He was feeling nowhere near hesitant anymore, though--quite the opposite--and he restlessly squeezed her hips as she peppered his neck and collarbone with enthusiastic kisses. Every touch they exchanged wound him tighter and tighter, and soon he was squirming beneath her, eyes closed as he concentrated on maintaining some semblance of composure.

He was mere seconds away from resorting to begging when she sucked his bottom lip, delved her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, and gradually lowered herself--until the head of his shaft ever so slightly kissed the inviting warmth at the apex of her thighs. She felt so indescribably good that he tossed his head back against the headboard with a thud, staring dazedly at the ceiling.

“Leo,” she giggled, and he raised his head as he puffed out a breath to steel himself. Her intimate touch had felt surreal since the moment she leaned into him beneath the stars, but especially at this point. He cupped her vibrant face in his hands to reassure himself as their lips met.

She drew him inside with short, languid strokes, bit by bit--so pleasurable yet so agonizing that he could barely endure it. After a few more moments, he could no longer endure it at all, and they cried out in unison as he jerked his hips upward and buried himself within her. He was fairly certain that his eyes rolled back in his head so far that he temporarily lost consciousness, and his strangled moan was lost to her mouth as she kissed him feverishly.

They sighed and smiled against each other’s lips, sharing in the feeling of relief that came with finally being joined, and they were both panting when they came up for air. She rocked her hips so rhythmically and she tasted so sweet, as he trailed his mouth along her neck, that he was lulled into a euphoric state. His eyes drifted shut and he reveled in her exquisite softness, kissing and nibbling his way down downward.

She whimpered blissfully as he teased her nipples with his tongue, grabbing the back of his head like she meant to anchor him there, so he indulged her and sucked one of the sensitive buds into his mouth. Her moan of approval emboldened him and he lavished her breasts with attention. He lost himself in her, encouraged by the appreciative noises she was making, and didn’t stop until she tugged at his hair.

No sooner had he lifted his head than she crushed her lips to his, kissing him in short bursts as they continued to rock back and forth seamlessly. Impassioned gasps mingled between their open mouths and their leisurely movements transitioned into more urgent ones, their kisses becoming clumsy and sporadic. When their lively eyes met in between, her euphoric expressions entranced him.

Suddenly she was moaning ecstatically and gasping for breath--first with her eyes squeezed shut, then half-lidded as her short nails clawed at his shoulders. Her gaze intensified along with her pace and she began to grind her hips firmly, repeatedly, much harsher than before. He wasn’t surprised that her passion was so uninhibited, but he was awestruck just the same.

Her cries grew more frequent and higher pitched, her movements jerky and unpredictable, and he gripped her slender waist to steady her. He roughly rolled his hips, digging his fingers into her flesh and helping her meet him stroke for stroke, driven by the pleading look in her eyes. She tilted her head back with an enraptured expression, then buried her face in the crook of his neck as she frantically rocked against him.

He crushed her to his chest, one hand clutching her waist and the other splayed between her shoulders as he strived to match her frenzied movements. Her face was hidden in his hair and she was whimpering intermittently between whispering encouraging words, her rapid puffs of breath tickling his ear. Combined with her nails dragging across his back and the sensation of her quivering and tightening around him, it was all too much.

He was teetering on the very brink when she suddenly yelped and cried out, clinging to him as her body shuddered, and her inner walls contracted before pulsating wildly. The intensity of her climax left him reeling and he dazedly tucked his face against her neck, breathing her in as she swiveled her hips. He expected that he was going to fall apart, explode into thousands of tiny pieces, or pass out from the sheer ecstasy of it--any combination of those things.

It was surprisingly difficult to let go, maybe because he was long-deprived of these sensations and succumbing to them felt as risky as jumping off a cliff. He wasn’t one for holding back, however--in fact, diving off a cliff (or something equally dangerous) was well suited to his tastes, which he never had a chance to indulge anymore--so he spontaneously rolled her onto her back without breaking their connection.

She squeaked in surprise, laughing breathlessly, and then she stared up at him with wild, expectant eyes. His hair cascaded over his shoulders and he swept it to one side before leaning down to kiss her languidly, withdrawing completely just so he could experience sliding back into her. She moaned sweetly and tilted her hips, hooking her slender legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.

She arched her back and met every thrust with such unrestrained enthusiasm that it was quickly his undoing. He lifted her hips with one hand, cradling the back of her neck with the other, and she hugged him tightly as he surrendered to the sensation--the incomparable, unparalleled, explosive sensation that he was doubtlessly experiencing for the final time.

***EXPLICIT CONTENT ENDS***

Frey was one in a million… a billion, more likely.

As the adrenaline subsided, she held him tenderly and he tucked his face into the crook of her neck. He supported most of his weight on his forearms, but their bodies were still pressed tightly together, and he concentrated on memorizing her--the softness of her skin beneath him, the gentle caress of her hands on his back, the citrusy smell of her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest… the overall comfort her embrace provided.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips before rising up and lying on his side next to her. She turned to face him and although she smiled brightly, he immediately noticed anguish lurking in the depths of her lovely green eyes. He suspected that his were similarly bleak, so to distract from it, he lunged forward and wrapped her in the circle of his arms. He tickled her ribs and peppered her neck with kisses until he elicited the desired response--she shrieked with laughter and squirmed around, cursing his name until he released her.

“I guess that was payback, huh?”

“Actually, I had already forgotten… I didn’t even have revenge in mind, so that didn’t count.”

“Leo, no! No more!”

“All right, all right. Consider your transgressions forgiven, as long as you let me hold you instead.”

She panted, still giggling, and her eyes were a bit lighter. She snuggled against his chest, using his upper arm as a pillow, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. For several long, tranquil moments, he soothingly rubbed his hand up and down her arm while he gazed out the window. Clouds were rolling in, obscuring the moon for the first time that night, slowly shrouding her room in darkness.

Maybe this was what he would miss the most. Just lying here with her. He wanted to experience it more than once, but he felt immensely lucky to have experienced it at all.

He was struck with the need to be closer to her, so he shifted down the mattress and hugged her small torso, nestling his cheek against her silky breasts. She laughed softly and brushed his bangs away from his eyes, intertwining their legs.

“Leo?”

“What is it, my Little Moth?”

“I wish--”

“Frey!”

“--that you could use my wish.”

“Hmph. You would wish for something so sentimental," he teased, but he was touched by it. He sighed and lazily nuzzled his cheek against her breasts again. For a second, he had feared she was on the verge of accidentally making a trivial wish, speaking those words without thinking--she had mentioned being terrified she would do that at some point. But he was so bereft of magic that his body didn't even react to the two magic words, anyway; he wondered if he was even capable of granting a wish anymore.

“So would you.” She hummed happily and curled around him, snuggling his head to her chest and stroking his hair. This time, she graciously avoided the sensitive tips of his ears. “If you could use my wish... what would you wish for? What would you say?”

She was intensely curious to hear his answer, and she waited with bated breath as she continued to caress him. He burrowed more deeply into her chest, seeming to hesitate thoughtfully for several seconds. His sigh sounded content, almost sleepy, and his breaths became slow and deep. His eventual answer was husky and scarcely above a whisper, but still clear.  

“I would say… I wish for Frey to remember me as a djinn, yet know me as a human.”

When she parted her lips to reply, her voice faltered. She was astonished that after all of these centuries, if given the chance to make a second wish, he would use it to stay with her--there were no words to express how much she wanted that to be possible. She bit back tears and nuzzled her face against the top of his head, concerned by how exhausted he sounded, and she was surprised when his ears didn’t twitch in annoyance.

Something unidentifiable shifted in the air and she cautiously lifted her head. She hadn't realized she was so accustomed to the almost imperceptible thrum of magic that surrounded him--not until, suddenly, she couldn’t sense it at all.

A sharp chill ran down her spine and she was struck with sickening, nauseating dread. She held him tighter, but he didn’t squeeze her in return--his arms went slack. His hands, which had been tenderly stroking her back, stilled. He felt limp and heavy. His head sagged against her chest and his breath no longer puffed against her skin.

“L-Leo...” Her voice wavered and she tried to swallow the painful lump in her throat. “Stop pretending. We both know you can’t sleep.”

He didn’t respond and she was absolutely terrified to look at him. Her chin quivered and hot tears brimmed her eyes as she tenderly tilted his head back, smoothing his bangs to one side so she could see his face. He was expressionless and his eyes were closed, almost like he was sleeping. If only.

She knew--she knew he wasn’t breathing, but she shakily pressed her ear to his motionless chest anyway. As desperately as she tried to imagine that she heard one, there was no heartbeat to detect. She clung to him and sobbed.

And then he vanished into thin air, right out from beneath her.

She opened her eyes and sat up in bed, glancing around in confusion. She had been too exhausted to dress after her shower, apparently. It had been a long day of toiling in the sun, tilling her garden and planting dozens of seedlings. She hadn’t been interrupted for the entire day, so she had finished it all without taking a single break. 

Dolce had left for Clorica’s shortly afterward, so she had relaxed and watched TV on the couch while she ate dinner. What an uneventful night it had been, but sometimes it was nice to be lazy. She did feel a bit lonely, though.

Yawning, she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, instantly relieved. It was only 2:00, so she could sleep for several more hours before she had to get ready for work. She curled into herself and settled her head on the pillow, quickly drifting off.

Chapter Text

It was still overcast as Frey walked home from work that afternoon. The ominous sky had been threatening rain all day, its clouds intermittently grumbling their warnings, but she hadn’t seen a drop so far. It was nice when nature did her a spontaneous favor and watered her plants, but she was worried about her little fox friend getting caught in the storm. She hoped he was okay.

He had been hanging around her house--and inside of it, much to Dolce’s irritation--for the past month, so his sudden disappearance was jarring. She knew he was wild and wouldn’t stay around forever, but she had grown accustomed to his presence, and the prospect of never seeing him again made her sad. He had apparently left the night before, right after he tried to nibble her plants and she protected them with the water hose. She wondered if that influenced him to run away, even though he played with her afterward.

An abrupt flash of lightning overhead caught her attention, followed shortly by a resounding boom as it split the sky. She took that as a sign to jog the remaining distance home, and she was glad she did, because the clouds opened up as soon as her sneakered feet hit the front porch. It wasn’t a very typical spring storm; they normally began with hesitant sprinkles, but sheets of rain were saturating the ground already.

She collapsed on the squeaky porch swing and sighed worriedly, glancing around her front yard and across the street. If the fox was anywhere nearby, he would have come running to escape the downpour by now, and he was easy to spot due to his striking red coat. He must have finally moved on. She would miss watching him lounge in the sun while she worked in the garden.

A wistful smile graced her lips as she remembered the day she brought him home. He had followed her straight into her room and hopped on her bed like he owned the place, which Dolce had balked at. She insisted on checking him for fleas and ticks, but he was immaculately clean for a wild fox--a perfect specimen, Lumie had observed--and he didn’t behave like one, either. Maybe he had been someone else’s lost pet, after all, but she had never known anyone in Selphia to have a pet fox.

The front door opened and she glanced over to see Dolce and Clorica stepping out onto the porch. The purple-haired girl smiled sweetly, as she always did, while her roommate regarded her with a less enthusiastic expression--she didn’t mean anything by it; it was just her personality, which Frey had been accustomed to for years now. She found it endearing that the pair, who had been together for about six months, complimented each other so well.

“Hi, Frey! Glad you made it home before it started pouring.” Clorica’s voice was all soft tranquility, in stark contrast to Dolce’s soft impassiveness. She crossed the porch and sat on the swing next to her, clasping her graceful hands in her lap. “We just got here, too.”

“I made it without a second to spare,” Frey replied with a slight giggle, mirroring her friendly smile. “Any longer and I would have been absolutely drenched.”

“The smell of spring rain is so nice,” Clorica murmured. She inhaled deeply and closed her gentle brown eyes, wearing a blissful expression as Dolce sank down next to her.

“It’s one of my favorite smells, too. So refreshing.” Frey breathed deeply, as well, savoring the earthy scent as the rain saturated her flowerbeds. The sound of raindrops pelting the porch roof was relaxing, and she almost felt like taking a nap here. Clorica almost certainly would.

Dolce remained quiet, her maroon eyes gazing fondly at the tumultuous sky. The pink-haired woman adored thunderstorms, especially intense ones like this, and she smiled ever so slightly with each strike of lightning. Frey noticed that her lips, painted a deep shade of plum today, tilted up even further when Clorica grasped her hand.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Frey announced cheerfully, standing and stretching her legs. She scanned the front yard one last time, hoping for a glimpse of the fox, but the rain was so heavy that she could hardly see a thing.

“Aww, you don’t have to go.” Clorica’s doe-like eyes were sincere, her tone considerate as always. “You were here first.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I was about to change out of my work clothes, anyway.” Frey smiled appreciatively as she crossed the porch. “I might even catch up on some reading, since I can’t work in the yard. See you two later!”

“Okay, then! I was planning on cooking dinner for the three of us in a bit, if you don’t mind me taking over your kitchen again? I might even bake some apple pie… Dolce and I have both been craving it.”

“You mean you’ve been craving it. I haven’t said a word.” Dolce spoke up for the first time, frowning slightly at her girlfriend, who looked completely unconvinced.

“I can tell by the look in your eyes when I mention it,” Clorica responded sweetly, smiling brightly at Dolce--who reciprocated almost imperceptibly, unable to suppress it. Frey reflexively smiled, as well, and then they were all brimming with amusement, on the verge of laughter.

“You know her too well,” Frey giggled, opening the front door. She paused as she started to step inside, glancing back at the happy pair hopefully. “Can you please let me know if you see the fox? He’s been missing since yesterday, and I’m a little worried about him.”

“He finally left your side after all this time?” Dolce turned and looked at her with wide eyes, so even she was surprised by the news. There was a touch of sympathy in her typically placid voice.

“Yeah, you two were practically inseparable… I’m sorry, Frey.” Clorica sounded genuinely sad, eyebrows slanted downward in concern. “I’ll help you look for him when the rain lets up.”

“Thank you, but that’s all right. He probably went back to wherever he came from. I just want to make sure he’s healthy, if he does happen to show up.”

“Okay, if you’re sure…” The purple-haired woman offered her another gentle smile. “I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”

“Thanks!” Frey called, and she glimpsed Clorica leaning over to plant a kiss on Dolce’s cheek as she shut the door. They suited each other exceptionally well, each quiet in their own way, and Frey was so happy that she had introduced them. Her roommate needed someone who could gently coax her out of her shell and expose her tender side.

Humming to herself, Frey headed down the hallway to her bedroom. She unwound her long tresses as she walked, releasing them from the tight bun she had worn on top of her head all day. It felt good to relieve the tension, and she sighed as she rubbed her tender scalp.

She changed into an old, comfortable t-shirt and lounge pants, figuring she wouldn’t be doing much for the remainder of the day, and settled into the cushy armchair by her window. The room was dark as a result of the ongoing storm, save the occasional flicker of lightning, so she switched on her lamp. It was the perfect atmosphere for reading, and she snuggled into the chair as she took her library book from the side table.

Kiel had raised a curious eyebrow and commented on her choices lately; they were drastically different from the books she usually checked out. She had suddenly, inexplicably switched from fantasy-themed fiction to educational non-fiction, and even she couldn’t pinpoint why. A well-worn history book had spoken to her one day, an advanced astronomy book the next. At least they had served to broaden her horizons.

She was back to novels now, though--her brain hurt from attempting to decipher pages of tiny, tedious explanations that she wasn’t even sure she comprehended. She had retained some of the information, though, which she realized whenever she went stargazing on the hill. On clear nights, she had managed to recognize several constellations, especially Leo--it was fairly easy to identify, considering its proximity to the Big Dipper. She could easily find Cancer and Virgo, as well, but for some reason Leo always stuck out to her first.

Ancient history had proven interesting to her, too. It was difficult to grasp how rapidly technology advanced. If people from hundreds of years ago could have looked into the future, she wondered how they would have reacted. The modern world would probably be incredibly foreign and frightening to them, maybe even devastating--considering how much natural beauty had been destroyed in favor of convenience and humanity’s never-ending desire to possess anything and everything.

She preferred a simpler life, herself, although she definitely took advantage of modern technology every day. Despite that, she tried to make a smaller footprint on the ecosystem by recycling, walking everywhere within a reasonable distance, and growing much of her own food. Someday she’d love to have her own little farm and live off the land as much as possible, which she was gradually working toward. That would probably be the ultimate accomplishment for her. Until then, she was satisfied staying in tiny Selphia and living in harmony with all of her wonderful neighbors.

She sighed contentedly as she relaxed and snuggled deeply into the chair, removing her bookmark--one she made using pressed flowers from her garden--and picked up where she left off. Just as she became absorbed in the imaginary world, completely immersed due to the persistent rain and rumbling thunder outside her window, a strange sound caused her to lift her head. It almost sounded like someone was tapping against the wall on the opposite side of the room, but she wasn’t positive she heard anything at all.

As she glanced back down, attempting to refocus on the text, her alarm clock randomly went off. She instantly knew that Pico, Dolce’s intrusive ghost, was the culprit. Frey had actually grown to like her, although she tended to show up at inopportune times. Pico usually didn’t bother her, though; she tended to shower Dolce with attention and follow her wherever she went, even to work and to Clorica’s. Last night had been especially peaceful because of that.

Frey sighed, sensing that reading would be an impossibility now, and placed her bookmark between the crisp pages of the novel before closing it. The more she thought about it, she was actually surprised the little spectre of a girl was using her energy to communicate with her. It seemed like she didn’t have much energy lately, which Frey had mentioned to Kiel--who turned out to be a repository of knowledge when it came to the supernatural. He suggested the primary source of her energy was gone, but she had no idea what that could have been.

Kiel didn’t have many opportunities to talk about ghosts, especially considering that he lived with his sister, Forte--she had refused to speak of Pico ever again after the incident at Carnation’s, pretending like it never happened, so no one brought it up around her anymore. Kiel talked to Frey about ghosts at the library almost every time she visited, as a result. He was the only one--outside of Dolce, Clorica, and herself--to know that Pico haunted their house. Frey could only imagine how often Lumie would insist on investigating if she knew, and the last thing she wanted was for their house to become a tourist attraction.

“Hi, Pico,” Frey greeted when the drawer of her nightstand rattled open. Although she was a bit annoyed by the interruption, she smiled fondly anyway. “Geez, you’re putting in a lot of effort just to get my attention. Did you miss me while you were at Clorica’s or something?”

She never thought she could be accustomed to having a ghost around, but her presence was no longer frightening--not even startling, most of the time. It was surprising how quickly she and Dolce accepted it, and despite her roommate’s refusal to admit it, Frey thought she would actually miss Pico if she ever disappeared. She had openly revealed herself to them about a month ago, but Dolce had sensed her long before that.

Pico never made her presence known around anyone but Frey and Dolce, however--not since that day at Carnation’s--and automatically ceased her shenanigans if they tried to take a picture or video of her. They had soon given up on trying anything like that anymore; apparently it was impossible to capture proof. No wonder undeniable evidence of ghosts didn’t exist, despite so many people insisting their houses were haunted. Kiel even theorized that ghosts were capable of sensing where surveillance cameras were in use, so they never manifested in those locations.

Predictably, since it was the only way Pico could clearly communicate, a black ink pen floated out of the drawer and unsteadily hovered toward the wall above her bed. Thankfully it had turned out that, soon after they were read, her messages vanished without a trace. Frey never had to scrub them like she feared, which had strangely been necessary with the chalk graffiti at Carnation’s, but only then. Frey wasn’t sure why.

As the pen began to write, Frey set her book aside and stood to watch. She was especially curious, considering Pico hadn’t written a message just for her before, and she furrowed her brows as the first word appeared. The formation of the letters was noticeably sluggish and messy, which wasn’t typical--maybe a sign that her energy was almost completely drained?--and Frey bit her lip as she read the irregularly shaped words.

“What happened to…,” Frey read aloud, waiting with bated breath for Pico to finish the message. Instead, the pen abruptly stopped writing and fell straight to the floor. Frey gasped, frustrated and more curious than ever. “Pico! What happened to what?”

She stood as motionless as possible, shifting her eyes to search for any signs of Pico, but all was still and silent--except for the relentless storm raging outside. After several minutes, she finally gave up and collapsed on her bed, staring at the ceiling and hoping the answer was written there.

Maybe Pico really was out of energy now. Did that mean she couldn’t interact with them at all anymore? Frey needed to talk to Kiel.

Chapter Text

This wasn’t right.

Frey was no longer curled around him, so he had vanished from her arms and her mind, but he wasn’t back inside the bottle. He had just spent a month outside of it, but after 400 years of very brief absences, he would never forget what it felt like. Within it, he had no sense of self--he was nothing more than a sphere of fire magic, incapable of doing anything besides listening to his surroundings and hibernating until he was summoned.

But now… light was filtering through his closed eyelids, tempting them to drift open. He had definitely remained in his body; he could feel his extremities, along with his rapid breath and heartbeat. The surface he was lying upon was oddly cushiony, even more comfortable than Frey’s bed had been, and the familiar weight of his clothing and turban had returned.

He inhaled deeply, pleasantly surprised that the air smelled fresh and clean. The scent reminded him of stargazing with Frey on the hill; it was a mixture of damp soil, spring grass, and scattered wildflowers. Even the wind was similar here, brisk and slightly chilly. On the off-chance he was in her field--unlikely, since he didn’t feel the prickle of grass against his back--he wanted to open his eyes. Otherwise, he’d rather not.

Once he felt like he had his bearings, though, his curiosity got the better of him. He cautiously sat up, blinking as sunlight struck his exposed eyes, and he realized he was in the clouds--or what resembled them, anyway, since he wasn’t falling through them. Was he dead? Supposedly djinns were immortal, so he didn’t entertain that thought for very long. Even though he had depleted his energy, returning to the bottle would have instantly recharged him.

That raised another perplexing question, though: how was he still existing outside of the bottle, considering he was devoid of magic? He couldn’t feel it coursing through him now, either--in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so human. Maybe he had reverted to human form and then passed away, but that didn’t make any sense, either--a quick flick of his tail and twitch of his ears disproved that theory. So it was a dream, maybe, but he couldn’t remember what they felt like--surely not this real.

His own words were repeating in his head as he hesitantly stood, expecting to plummet through the clouds at any given moment. It’s been a conundrum… do I choose to wonder what could have been, or to reminisce about what was? If my past is any indication, I’ll regret what I didn’t do most of all. He didn’t regret his decision to indulge in her--he was positive, now, that he would have regretted it if he didn’t --but her absence was even more painful than he expected it would be. He had really, truly lost her, and he wasn’t ready to accept it--didn’t know if he could.

At least this place was a distraction, for now. Where in the hell was he? He was walking on thick clouds and passing through transparent ones, so his vision was hazy. He couldn’t see more than a few meters ahead. Maybe he really was dead--was this all that death turned out to be? Existing in the clouds for all eternity, trying to find your way when there wasn’t a way to be found? If this was a maze you had to navigate to your afterlife, it was an impossible one. He couldn’t tell one cloud from the other; they were all fluffy and white, shifting almost imperceptibly beneath his feet.

He imagined that walking across cushions--layers and layers of them, stacked high and made of wool--felt like this. It was the strangest sensation, strange enough that it started to make him queasy, or maybe that was just the frazzled nerves and dizzying confusion starting to take hold. It looked like there was no end to the clouds and no edge to lean over, which was somewhat comforting. He despised heights even more than dark, cramped spaces--he was forced to face his fears much too often for his liking, come to think of it.

Suddenly realizing the pointlessness of this, he stopped. It seemed like he had been trudging along on these endless clouds for hours, but he had no concept of time, and especially not here. The sun was still high in the sky, in the same position it had been since he opened his eyes. He held his hand to his brow and glanced up at it, finding some semblance of comfort in its warm rays, and then an abrupt gust of wind tugged at his clothes. His cyan hair whipped wildly around him, yanked in the same direction as his body, and he struggled against it.

Like the breeze had a mind of its own, it wrapped around him and began to push instead of pull, shoving him along. He could have sworn it even took the shape of a hand against his back, pressing between his shoulder blades and guiding him along. Now he was convinced he was dead and this was something akin to purgatory--that made a lot more sense. Not quite Heaven, not quite Hell, just a waiting room until his ultimate fate was decided. And apparently that time had come, because this wind spirit--or whatever it was--was prodding him along with purpose.

“Come closer, Leon. Up the stairs,” boomed a disembodied voice, startling him. It sounded feminine, but harsh and rather abrasive, which further bewildered him--especially considering there were no stairs to speak of.

He was about to say just that, but suddenly a spiral staircase materialized in front of him, nearly as transparent as the air itself. He crossed his arms and shook his head, silently defying the command. There was no way he was climbing barely visible stairs that undoubtedly led higher into the sky, to yet another layer of clouds. If they went down, he might consider it. At least then, he would be slightly closer to the ground.

“Honestly… height is what finally paralyzes you, of all things? You’ve endured much worse. I promise I won’t let you fall.”

His eyes grew wide and he gulped, then surprised himself by laughing. This was all so absurd. Now he was leaning toward the idea of this being a dream again. Somehow he had finally been granted actual, restful sleep, and therefore he was dreaming for the first time in centuries. Of course his first dream, after so long, would be wildly extravagant.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and began to cautiously climb the stairs. Oddly, they felt as solid as stone steps, reassuringly sturdy beneath his feet. He still hated the idea of being so high up in the air, though, so he hurried. Simultaneously running upward and in circles made him dizzy, and he was breathless when he reached the top--not so much because of the stairs, but because of the overwhelming sight before him.

The massive castle was almost as white as the clouds, shining brilliantly in the sun as its jeweled accents reflected the light. It was magnificent enough to house a god, too lavish for even the wealthiest of royal families. He was so awestruck that it took him several moments to realize he wasn’t standing on clouds anymore, but grass, and he was surrounded by an array of colorful plants and flowering trees. That explained the delicate scents he had noticed when he first came to.

He was walking forward involuntarily, like he was drawn to the castle. He couldn’t find it in himself to care that he didn’t have control; he was too entranced, gazing up at the peaked towers that pierced the sky. There was no door, just a wide-open archway bordered by floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. Budding vines clung to the architecture, bursting with tiny blue flowers and swarmed by butterflies. They were too beautiful to be real, but then, so was everything here. He wondered how Frey would react.

Once he was directly in front of the castle entrance, he came to a halt. Everything was silent except for plants rustling in the breeze, and somewhere a windchime was tinkling melodically. It was so tranquil here that he no longer felt apprehensive, just curious. He expected that whoever lived in the castle was fairly enormous, considering the size of the door, and probably rather imposing, considering the tone of their voice.

He attempted to brace himself before he met this god--surely that’s what he was dealing with, here--but he audibly gasped when they appeared in the doorway. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality of it; he was absolutely astonished by what stood before him. His mouth fell open against his will and then, although he tried to suppress it--laughing at a god was unquestionably an awful mistake--he chuckled.

“I know you’re not laughing at me.” Her hands were instantly on her narrow hips in a defensive stance, and she was glaring up at him--likely with all the intensity she could muster. It wasn’t intimidating at all, though, and he had to bite his cheek to discourage another chuckle.

“When you spoke earlier, the sound of your voice gave me a different impression, that’s all,” he replied smoothly, reigning in his amusement. Her expression was rapidly darkening and if she truly was a god, who knew what she was capable of. He would have to charm her quickly.

“You assume that this is how I always look. I was trying to avoid scaring you, but now I see it’s necessary if I want any respect.” She furrowed her delicate brows as tendrils of silvery hair drifted across her pixie-like face, and her striking blue eyes studied him harshly.

“No, that isn’t the case at all. I assure you, you have my utmost respect.” He bowed his head solemnly, peeking up at her to judge her reaction, and she seemed somewhat less likely to strike him to the ground.

“I’m not convinced, but I’ll let it go for now,” she huffed, gradually letting her guard down. Her voice was as melodic as the windchimes. “You must be wondering why you’re here.”

“Yes… that’s the question at the forefront of my mind.” He found himself holding his breath as he awaited her response. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to speculate any longer.

“I won’t disclose everything, but I will share this… as a djinn, you embody one element--fire. Individual beings that embody each element are necessary to keep the world in balance,” she began, raising her eyebrows as she held his gaze--he got the feeling she wanted him to really pay attention to this next part. “However… as fiery as your personality may be, you’re not suitable to represent fire.”

He couldn’t help but wince at that, feeling a bit vexed. “Then why choose me to represent fire in the first place?”

“I did no such thing,” she replied steadily. The shiny black horns that crowned her head gleamed in the sunlight. “Humans are born of earth, as you were, and djinns are born of fire. But you--you became fire of your own volition.”

“Out of desperation and ignorance.” He sighed heavily, glancing at a wayward yellow butterfly. “Trust me, it was nowhere near my intention.”

“Nevertheless… you shouldn’t have been able to transition to fire in the first place, you depleted your magic, and now you’re here.” She motioned for him to follow as she turned away, and her feathered cape fluttered behind her. “Do you see my predicament?”

“Not exactly. If you care to explain, I’m all ears.” He followed her down a winding garden path until they reached an intricate fountain, which she perched on the edge of. He was ready for her to get to the point. There wasn’t a rule book for djinns, but it sounded like she was blaming him for his missteps anyway.

“This entire situation is unprecedented… you becoming a djinn at all, not to mention gallivanting around and pretending to be human again for an entire month!” She looked scandalized, throwing her hands up and shaking her head. “And then you fell in love with a human?! Earth and fire don’t mix!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, his expression rapidly dulled along with his patience. He crossed his arms and stared into her eyes challengingly. “Mhm. It sounds like you need to put stricter boundaries in place.”

She gasped sharply, unexpectedly raising her eyebrows in surprise instead of anger. “If I didn’t already know you were born of earth, I wouldn’t believe it! I’ve only ever known fire to clap back at me like that, and do you know what happens to them?”

“Something worse than indulging greedy humans for all eternity? I can’t quite imagine it.” He chuckled wryly and shook his head. “And anyway, I have nothing left to lose.”

“You’re positively impudent!” she accused, rising to her feet, and he knew he had finally gone too far--but then she laughed airily and he stared at her in confusion. “And yet, for some unholy reason, I like you. I also never anticipated that a human would relinquish their wish to a djinn, and as a result, there isn’t a rule against it. So this is what I propose… reaffirm your wish.”

“What ?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” she teased with a quizzical tilt of her head. “Frey was able to voice her entire wish.”

He hadn’t noticed. His heart dipped into his stomach at the realization, as well as the mention of her name. “Which means it was grantable…”

“Right. She gifted her wish to you, and you made a wish soon thereafter.” She sounded impatient, like she shouldn’t have to explain this to him, but he was too shocked to give a damn. “You do remember what it was…?”

“Of course I do,” he managed to say. He could scarcely hear his own voice over the deafening pulse in his ears.

“Then all you have to do is reaffirm it, and I’ll grant it,” she explained with a flippant shrug of her shoulders. “Simple as that.”

“But…” He shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, certain there must be a catch. It was too good to be true; there had to be something they were overlooking. He was reluctant to get his hopes up. “I thought wishes like mine weren’t grantable.”

“Who do you think makes the rules?!” she scoffed haughtily, hopping down from the fountain. She moved some distance away, leaving a considerable amount of space between them, and he watched her suspiciously. “Didn’t I introduce myself?”

“No, you didn’t.”

She raised her hands to the sky with a smug grin, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, and the surrounding vegetation swayed to and fro with the gusting breeze. Wind swirled around her slight form with such ferocity that he thought she might blow away, but she didn’t so much as stumble. The air took on color, tinted seafoam green and bright white, so he could see its movement instead of just the result of it. It enveloped her, forming a sort of vertical tunnel, picking up speed until it was impossible to see her anymore. She was no longer distinguishable, blurred together with the wind, and then he was blinded by a burst of intense light.

He covered his face as his hair whipped around him, sharply enough to sting his cheeks, and then everything was motionless in the time it took to blink. His hair fell straight back at his sides, the trees stilled, the whooshing stopped, and there wasn’t a hint of a breeze--then he had to look up, up, up to see her face, which had completely transformed.

“I am Ventuswill, the Divine Wind! This form demands respect, wouldn’t you say?” Her voice boomed loudly, like it had earlier, but it wasn't nearly as abrasive. She raised her head proudly, displaying shiny scales and the full extent of her wingspan. Her wings were feathered and green, tipped with red, and her razor sharp claws and teeth would seem foreboding--if not for her surprisingly friendly face.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this,” he muttered to himself, expelling a huff of repressed laughter. He had learned to anticipate strange truths over the course of his abnormally long lifetime, but dragons were a new one. He spoke up so she could hear him this time. “Yes, I would say so. Does this mean gods embody wind? Spirits as well, I assume?”

“The simple answer is yes, but you’re about to be human again, and I’ve already revealed far more than I should have.” She sat on the ground with impressive grace, considering her size, and folded her vast wings at her sides. She extended her long neck to lower her head, and her proximity made his skin prickle. “So, as I was saying… I may give you a little leeway regarding your wish, if you can bite your tongue for the rest of our visit.”

“I can manage,” he replied with a slight smirk. He suddenly felt anxious and his skin was clammy; he took a deep breath and forcefully blew the air out through his mouth. The shock of this entire ‘day’ was setting in, and trying to come to terms with his new reality was daunting. “Will she… will Frey remember everything instantly, as soon as you grant my wish?”

“Well, yes. Is that a problem?”

“I don’t want her to endure that by herself.”

“I know you’ve been trapped in a bottle for the better part of 400 years, but surely you’re familiar with this saying--don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

He turned and gazed out over the lush garden, pressing his lips together. He was so opposed to Frey regaining memories on her own that he would prefer she didn’t remember at all. She would probably be alone and terrified, or worse, going about her day when her brain was flooded with information. If he wasn’t there when she remembered him, the experience would probably be substantially more traumatic.

“All right…” The dragon sighed begrudgingly, which suitably felt like a gust of wind. “How about this? She won’t remember anything until she says ‘Leo,’ the name she calls you. So don’t introduce yourself in the middle of the street or something.”

“Thank you.” He gazed into her luminous eyes sincerely, releasing a pent-up breath as relief washed over him.

“You’re welcome.” She wore the slightest grin on her scaly green face. “Now, go ahead--make your wish.”

His chest tightened as he attempted to swallow the painful lump in his throat, but he managed to concentrate on the words, taking care to arrange them precisely as before. “I wish for Frey to remember me as a djinn, yet know me as a human.”

“Granted! But hold on one second--I can’t send you back like this.” She extended her long neck and planted her bulky head on the ground before him, examining him thoughtfully. He could feel her warm breath puff from her nostrils. “You still look like a djinn, so how about…”

A cool rush of magic prickled his skin, making his hair stand on end, and his body instantly felt unfamiliar. It took him a split second to realize that his tail was gone, making him feel strangely off-balance. He cautiously raised his hands to his ears--or where his ears should have been--but they had also vanished. His hearing was still intact, although he could already tell it was less sensitive, and he touched his new ears--or more accurately, his original ears--on the sides of his head.

“There. Now you look like a modern human. I give them countless materials to create with, and what do they make? Jeans and t-shirts.” She rolled her reptilian eyes and laughed derisively. “I swear… but anyway, now you fit in.”

“Why are you doing all of this?” he asked softly, glancing down at his clothing and hands. From what he could see without the aid of a mirror, he looked like a fairly typical human. His nails were unpainted and his clothing was similar to what men in Selphia wore. He assumed the markings on his face were also gone.

“Believe it or not, I feel a smidge guilty,” she admitted reluctantly, after a moment’s hesitation.

“I never imagined that gods could empathize with humans,” he mused, absentmindedly smoothing his hair back. It felt strange to tuck it behind his ears; he would have to grow accustomed to that again--not to mention eating, drinking, bathing… he was starting to feel overwhelmed, but also restlessly excited to see Frey again. He couldn’t imagine how she would react.

“Maybe not all gods, but I lived among humans once, so I have a different perspective.” She raised her head, sitting upright again as she smiled wistfully.

“I have so many questions…”

“Which will have to remain unanswered, I’m afraid. Have a nice life, Leon. Hopefully a less chaotic one, this go-around.”

Before he could express his gratitude, he felt the electric tingle of magic sear his skin. He was engulfed in white light, vanishing with a gust of wind. The last thing he saw was her toothy grin as she wished him well.

Chapter Text

After work the following afternoon, Frey rushed across the street to Kiel’s library, shielding herself from the rain. She was so perplexed by Pico’s incomplete message that she had barely slept, turning it over and over in her mind. What happened to what? She was going crazy with curiosity. With any luck, Kiel would at least have an idea of how to help Pico communicate again.

Dolce had mentioned, during their brief breakfast that morning, that the previous afternoon was the last time she sensed her. That wasn’t typical at all, so Frey knew something was going on. Normally Pico loved to make herself known, pestering the pink-haired woman with messages and occasionally materializing--apparently just to mischievously giggle, twirl around, and call her ‘Dolly.’ Her daily shenanigans had become normal and expected in their house.

When she opened the cumbersome library door--Kiel still needed a new one; that thing was a pain--he immediately glanced up and shot her a friendly grin. He was sitting at his desk, scanning books and probably logging them into his computer database. He was meticulous when it came to categorizing, which was appreciated by most of Selphia. Everything was easily accessible there, even information on ghosts, which she was desperately in search of.

“Hey, Kiel!” she chirped as she comfortably rested her elbows on his desk, leaning forward with hopeful eyes. He didn’t look up immediately, typing away with a soft smile on his face, so she decided to be patient--it took a considerable amount of effort.

“Sorry, I had a number in my head and I’m not that great at multitasking.” He laughed good naturedly, spinning in his chair to face her. “What are you up to?”

“Well… I think you were right about Pico losing her main source of energy,” she began in a hushed tone. It was never a bad idea to be discrete when they talked about these things; she didn’t want to start any rumors--and honestly, since Kiel tended to speak before thinking, she was surprised things had remained quiet so far. “She was in the middle of writing a message last night when she just suddenly disappeared. I haven’t seen her at all since then, and neither has Dolce. Do you know of anything that could… reenergize her, I guess?”

“Hmm…” Kiel put a hand to his chin and furrowed his brow, appearing to be deep in thought for a long moment. When his cornflower blue eyes lit up, eyebrows practically reaching his hairline, she knew he had something. “I have a book that mentions ghosts’ need for energy. It seems like it was pretty brief, but maybe we can glean something from it.”

“Great!” she whispered excitedly, remembering to keep her voice down at the last second.

She clasped her hands in front of her chest and nibbled her lip as she followed Kiel to a row of bookcases along the back wall. His collection of paranormal material wasn’t very extensive, considering it wasn’t an exceptionally popular topic, but he still had seven books relating to ghosts. He ran his fingers along their spines until he located the one he was looking for, carefully unshelving it and flipping to the table of contents.

“I know there’s a section on--aha! Here we go.” He sounded pleased as he thumbed through the pages, eyes lighting up again when they glimpsed the desired information. “I was right; it’s very brief, but they do mention energy. Here.”

She gulped as he handed the book to her, indicating the correct passage with his pointer finger. Hopefully it wasn’t something too demanding, but she was so curious to learn the rest of Pico’s message that she would do just about anything--within reason. Hopefully blood sacrifices or equally creepy rituals weren’t involved. She would be wondering about the incomplete message forever, if that turned out to be the case.

“‘It is widely believed that spirits must draw from specific sources of energy before they can materialize,’” she read eagerly, wide eyes flitting across the page. “‘If they lack a sufficient source, they temporarily lose their ability to interact. As a result, if a spirit suddenly vanishes from the household it was haunting, many people assume they have driven it away--but that is not always the case, if this theory is correct. When an acceptable energy source is reintroduced, spirits have been known to reappear.’”

“Any mention of what constitutes a suitable energy source?” Kiel asked, stepping behind her so he could peer over her shoulder. They both scanned the page in silence, and then he sighed disappointedly. “Why mention this at all, if they didn’t bother to include that? What a letdown.”

She gnawed her lip and skimmed through several more pages, eventually giving up and gingerly reshelving the book. “I guess I’ll just have to experiment… I’ve already tried searching online, but I couldn’t find anything useful. There were mentions of electricity, but it can’t be that--nothing has changed in the house. Oh, and there was also something about ghosts siphoning energy from other supernatural beings?”

“From other supernatural beings? That’s interesting… know any vampires? Werewolves, perhaps?” He shrugged his shoulders apologetically, laughing softly.

“Unfortunately not,” she giggled. “If I suspected anyone of being a vampire, it would be Dolce, but I see her out in the sun nearly every day. Is Bado hairy enough to be a werewolf?”

Kiel covered his mouth as he snickered, then shook his head. “He lives next door to me and I’m up late reading most nights, so I think I would have noticed him howling at the moon.”

“Too bad. I would’ve tried inviting him over for tea or something, so I could subtly interrogate him.”

“I don’t know if tea would’ve worked. Maybe booze.”

“You have a point.”

She was about to thank Kiel for his time when he abruptly grasped her forearm, startling her as he gazed into her eyes excitedly. “Wait--on the days Pico was most active, was there anything different going on at your house? Anything you can think of at all?”

“Um…” Her eyes drifted aimlessly over the endless rows of books as she racked her brain. Thinking back, Pico had been most active when it was dark. The night that Dolce pulled out the ouija board was the first time. It had been storming, and come to think of it-- “Thunderstorms... Kiel, I think that’s it! She interacts more frequently on stormy nights! It was storming last night when she started writing the message, too, but maybe she used too much energy doing something else before that.”

“Good thinking!” he praised with a bright smile. “That makes sense. Lightning is a form of electricity, after all. I think it’s unlikely to be her main energy source, but it sounds like it gives her enough energy temporarily.”

With impeccable timing, thunder boomed outside, and her wide eyes mirrored his.

“You better hurry home! With any luck, she’ll finish your message!”

“I hope so! Thank you so much for your help, Kiel--as always!” she gushed, giving him a quick but enthusiastic hug.

“No problem.” He ran a hand through his blond locks when she pulled back, slightly bashful when he was the object of praise. She heard him call after her as she stepped through the door. “Be careful!”

“Pico!” Frey shouted as she burst inside the front door. She was sopping wet, long hair plastered to her arms and the sides of her face, and she was dripping rainwater all over the entryway. She shivered as she yanked off her shoes, which she had soaked by inadvertently running through a puddle. “Pico, are you around?”

Something clattered in the kitchen and she jumped, heart racing. She knew Dolce was working late that day, so she was almost certain Pico was responsible for the noise. She leaned around the doorframe to look, and sure enough, she caught a glimpse of radiant green eyes and a chipper smile before they vanished into thin air.

“Hey, what were you trying to tell me last night? Can you--” She froze, continuing to drip water as she noticed the magnetic dry erase board on the fridge. There was a red marker poised in front of it, preparing to write something beneath the short grocery list--eggs, butter, and apples, since Clorica had used those ingredients for pies yesterday.

Frey’s breath hitched and she squirmed impatiently. She was going to feel so silly if she wasted her time dwelling on this, only for it to turn out to be a prank. Knowing Pico, she really should have anticipated that, but that still didn’t dampen her interest. She watched as the marker wrote the same three words as last night, in much clearer script, and this time she finished the question… complete with an oversized question mark at the end.

“What happened to… Leo? Who is--”

Her mind suddenly felt like it was racing, scrolling through rows and rows of text, overwhelming her with pictures of scenes she didn’t recognize. Nausea gripped her and she collapsed on her knees, holding her head in her hands, slumping into the puddle of cold rainwater that had gathered on the tile beneath her. She closed her eyes, attempting to escape the miserable, disorienting sensation, but that only made it worse--the pictures became clearer, and at the center of most of them was a pair of striking cerulean eyes that rendered her breathless.

The deluge of hazy images reminded her of an old movie reel that ominously whirred and clicked as the strip of film snapped, spinning out of control and flashing picture after blurred picture on the projector screen as it unraveled. If there was no one to intervene, it would continue rolling until the film ended chaotically, leaving the audience to string together the bits and pieces. That was how she felt now, scrambling for something to cling onto--something that made sense, that helped her decide what order these inexplicably familiar images belonged in.

Attempting to ground herself, she focused on a much older memory she was reminded of, one that she knew well. Back in high school, during photography class, Doug had neglected to keep an eye on the movie reel--a duty their teacher had assigned to him, of all people--as they studied early forms of media. Predictably, the film had gone disastrously off track. Dylas teased him relentlessly, all the way up until he asked him out later that year--come to think of it, he still teased him about it to this day, even now that they were married.

As the revolving wheel in her mind mercifully slowed, coming to a gradual stop, she realized she was curled in a fetal position on the hard floor. She slowly sat up as she held her aching head in her hands. Rivulets of frigid water were still trickling from her hair, down her arms, and expanding the puddle. She found herself staring at the name on the marker board, unblinking, for long enough that her eyes stung and the letters blurred.

Pico must have run out of energy again because there was no sign of her--and then the tiny spectre’s lack of energy abruptly made sense. She had been drawing energy from Leo the entire time he was there. Until his magic started dwindling, she had been capable of materializing fairly often, and for longer periods. The djinn had vanished while she was at Clorica's, so she probably wondered what had happened to him. Since she was a spirit, Frey imagined, her memory wasn't erased like those of humans.

After several minutes of agonizing over the situation, she stopped trying to force puzzle pieces where they didn’t fit. Her memories were gradually situating themselves within her mind, linking together on their own and painting the full picture. She shivered and stared down at her hands, suddenly recalling the sensation of Leo’s large palm pressed against hers, his thumb tenderly caressing her knuckles. Her heart clenched painfully and then she was too upset to sit still anymore.

She carefully peeled herself off the floor, stepping around the trail of water leading from the front door to the kitchen. Her limbs felt like jell-o as she walked to the hall closet to grab the mop, then robotically soaked up the water before Dolce arrived home and slipped. When she was done, feeling uncharacteristically exhausted after such a small chore, she stumbled to her room and changed into warm clothes.

She happened to glance in her closet mirror on the way out, which reminded her of the morning he used magic to dress her for work. Her skin had tingled with the sensation of static electricity, she remembered, and he had acted so nonchalant about it when she walked out--like she was now, which struck her with the memory of him lounging in her armchair. He was always reading book after book, day and night, sharing anything he found particularly interesting.

Tugging her wet hair into a sloppy bun, she made her way over to the chair--which had really become his chair--and then something shattered within her, making her chest ache with repressed sobs. She shakily curled into the seat, leaning her head on the armrest, and succumbed to the veritable avalanche of memories.

The visions rooted in her head, growing over and into each other as they sprouted and bloomed in her mind’s eye, branching out like tangled vines scaling a garden trellis. She could almost feel the subtle hum of magic beneath his skin, the comfort of being wrapped securely in his arms and crushed to his chest, the sensation of his silken hair sliding between her fingers as he kissed her. She could see the unmatched azure color of his sharp eyes, capable of provoking her with a single glance.

As her mind continued to organize the influx of memories, making sense of the flashbacks and bursts of sound--his smooth, versatile voice, which was captivating and mischievous and everything in between; his boisterous laughter and hearty chuckle--a timeline began to fall into place. It was only a month’s worth of memories, but they had spent the majority of that time together, whether he was in his djinn form or disguised as a fox. Now she understood why the fox had disappeared so suddenly.

She was staring blankly at the floral patterned comforter on her bed, choking back more tears, when the last detail clicked into place. Leo had vanished from her arms, finally exceeding his time limit--which had been her worst fear those last few days--and then she had forgotten everything, just as he said she would. But why… just over a day later, why did she suddenly remember? She sniffled and rubbed her face, mentally exhausted and despondent.

As she limply collapsed on her bed, she concentrated on their last moments together, shivering in response to the memory of his passionate touch. She rolled onto her side like she had that night, imagining that she was still curled around him and stroking his hair. She remembered the words she had spoken, turning them over in her head, and then it struck her--she had been able to speak her entire wish, and according to Leo, that wasn’t possible unless it was grantable.

I wish that you could use my wish, she had said. And his response had been, I wish for Frey to remember me as a djinn, yet know me as a human.

At least part of the wish had been granted. She remembered everything that she wasn’t supposed to. Then where was he? Was ‘know me as a human’ too vague? She guessed that technically, even if he was allowed to become human, that didn’t guarantee she would know him as a human any time soon. What if he had to remain a djinn for several more years first?

The possibilities tortured her, poking and prodding, and she willed herself to sleep just so she could have a break from speculating.

Chapter Text

Before she knew it, it was May.

The first day of the new month landed on Saturday, her last scheduled day of work for that week, and she considered telling Lumie she was still sick. She hadn’t left the house--had barely even left her bedroom--since Tuesday night, when she came home from the library and received Pico’s message shortly thereafter.

In retrospect, hiding in her room for several days had been counterproductive--everything in it reminded her of Leo; after all, he had been confined there for the majority of their time together. She kept thinking she saw him out of the corner of her eye, either reading in his chair or pacing the carpet. That morning she could have sworn he was lying next to her when she woke up, which swiftly ruined any progress she had made--the pit of despair, which she was struggling to climb out of, swallowed her right back up.

She never called in sick, much less several days in a row, so everyone was understandably concerned. All she wanted was to be left alone. She hated fibbing and making up symptoms, but if she didn’t respond to her friends’ messages, she knew they would show up at her bedroom door--so she returned their texts, reassured them that she was on the mend, and profusely thanked them for the homemade soups they insisted on dropping off. Thankfully, Dolce intercepted them.

If she was actually, physically sick--with something other than heartache--she would have been eternally grateful for their kind gestures. She supported them similarly when they were in need, and she knew they were just trying to return the favor, but what she wouldn’t give to crawl in a hole. Insisting that she was fine, when she couldn’t even convince herself to get out of bed, was incredibly draining.

It wasn’t just Leo’s absence from her life that was causing her so much despair, but the uncertainty of it all. Why had only half of his wish been granted? With knots in her stomach, she worried that he was enduring harsher consequences than she was. She had no idea what could have happened to him, and if she speculated too much, she grew restless with anxiety.

If he had been returned to his bottle--which had vanished along with him--and remained a djinn, that was difficult enough to accept. But at least that was something he knew and was accustomed to, even though he would have to readjust after a month of freedom. She could only hope that he would have the chance to gaze up at the stars again someday, even if it was with someone else.

That thought inevitably caused her to imagine sitting on the hill with him, wrapped up in his embrace, and she spiraled all over again. Her mind drifted aimlessly, bumping against walls of resistance--possibilities she didn’t dare entertain--and she found herself wondering what he was thinking. She cocooned herself in the bedsheets and pictured his face, which unsurprisingly wore a lopsided smirk.

Maybe he was wondering about her and missing her, too. And maybe missing each other, however excruciating it felt, was the last remaining connection they had--so she should be grateful she was able to remember him after all. She suddenly felt a bit lighter, comforting herself with the thought that he wasn’t experiencing this alone, even if he wasn’t aware of it. Hopefully he did know, somehow, that she was sharing in his pain.

Viewing the situation from that perspective made her feel a bit stronger and, surprising herself, she crawled out of bed with the intention of showering. It helped to imagine the look he would give her, what he would say if he could see the state she was in. She knew he would be devastated to find that she was handling his absence so badly, ignoring her responsibilities and isolating herself. He would tell her that he had already lost his chance at humanity long ago, and that he wanted her to make the most out of hers.

She decided to make an effort that he would be proud of, even if her determination only lasted for a few hours. Once she had showered and dressed, even managing to dry her hair and fasten it in its typical style, she took a deep breath and stared at her reflection in her closet mirror. The dullness in her eyes, as well as the dark circles beneath them, startled her. She barely recognized herself; she looked like she had just battled a week-long illness--but at least that’s what everyone would expect.

Dolce’s coffee mug was halfway to her mouth when Frey entered the kitchen, and she looked legitimately surprised to see her. “Welcome back to the land of the living. I was starting to think you might haunt me alongside Pico. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. I’m not sick anymore, just tired.” She forced a smile, crossing the kitchen to grab her own mug and fill it with coffee. She added a splash of cream and sugar, then leaned on the counter and glanced at Dolce, who seemed doubtful.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you still look awful. Are you sure you should be out of bed?” Her roommate leveled her with a rare expression of concern, eyebrows furrowed as she sipped her coffee. She preferred hers even sweeter than Frey did.

“I’ll be fine. I started feeling restless, so that must mean I needed to get up, right?”

“I guess… take it easy, though. Are you going to work?”

She nodded as she raised her mug and took a careful sip. She hadn’t even bothered to drink coffee all week, and she could already feel herself perking up as the hot beverage soothed her throat. “Yeah, hopefully Lumie will take it easy on me. She said it hasn’t been very busy, luckily, since it’s been raining all week.”

“That’s good, at least,” Dolce said, draining her mug and placing it in the sink. “I’m off to work, too. See you tonight.”

“See you,” she replied softly. She watched out the window as Dolce headed down the sidewalk, effortlessly graceful as usual. There was an umbrella in her hand, likely a precaution since it had rained all week, but so far the sky was clear.

Frey hoped May wouldn’t begin like April had ended.

She took a deep breath before she entered Carnation’s, wondering if she was really prepared to be ‘back among the living,’ as Dolce had called it. The heavy, heartsick feeling in her chest hadn’t abated much. During the short walk over, she had focused on keeping her chin up and her eyes ahead, trying not to appear so downcast.

“Frey, you’re back!” Amber exclaimed, with a smile bright enough to chase the rain clouds away. Then she shifted closer and lowered her voice. “It’s been so boring! Lumie made me reorganize the storage room three times this week, and the break room is spotless. I can’t find anything else to clean!”

“Oh, no. That’s rough. At least it doesn’t sound like you had to pick up much of my slack, though.” Frey mustered a smile, something that had come so naturally to her before.

“You always take such great care of the plants in your section, so all I had to do was water them. You didn’t miss any--oh, Frey! I’m sorry! I didn’t even ask how you’re feeling this morning.” The smaller woman rubbed the back of her head sheepishly, then smoothed her short green hair. “I just missed you so much!”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Promise.” She hoped her lack of enthusiasm wasn’t too obvious. “I missed being here, too.”

She had been looking forward to the distraction of work, but it was even slower than she expected, even now that the sun had reemerged. She busied herself with any tasks she could think of, no matter how small, like dusting the window sills--no one would ever notice, but at least she kept moving. As an added bonus, Lumie seemed to approve of her initiative, so she mostly left her alone.

As soon as she finished dusting, she swept up spilled potting soil and pruned several rose bushes. When she glanced at her watch and realized it wasn’t even quite noon, she sighed glumly. There had to be something else to do. She just wasn’t up to passing the hours with small talk.

“Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen Frey?” The voice startled her, although it was very familiar, and she jerked her head up toward the source.

“Huh?”

“Oh, it is you,” the redheaded man said with a hearty laugh. When she remained silent and raised a brow in confusion, he continued. His silver eyes softened with apparent concern as he stopped just in front of her. “Our Frey never looks so glum. Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. You just startled me.” She forced a smile for the umpteenth time that day, hoping it had reached her weary eyes. “What are you up to?”

“Doug managed to kill his last tomato plant,” interrupted another familiar voice. Dylas approached, long lavender tresses contrasting beautifully with his husband’s crimson locks. His arms were crossed as he stared pointedly at him.

“Damn it, Dylas, you didn’t have to tell her that,” Doug huffed, flushing slightly.

“Why not? It’s true,” the much taller man responded with a challenging smirk. They always argued like this; nothing had changed since high school, although they seemed to tease each other out of fondness now--mostly. “And because of you, I didn’t have tomatoes for our BLTs last night.”

“So you can’t even call it a BLT, dummy,” Doug scoffed, glaring up at his husband with a petulant scowl. “It was just a BL.”

“Hey, it still tasted good, didn’t it? I didn’t see you complaining when you polished two of them off."

“Anything tastes good when you’re starving! Granny worked me to the bone yesterday.”

“Fine.” Dylas shrugged smugly, smirk deepening. “I won’t bother to put any effort into cooking anymore, then, since you’re always starving and apparently anything is acceptable to you.”

“Ugh.” Doug grimaced, scrunching his face up in displeasure. When Dylas’ expression didn’t change, he pouted. “Maybe don’t go that far…”

They continued to squabble lightheartedly and Frey just watched in amusement, accustomed to their banter. She was glad for the diversion and sense of normalcy it brought. After a moment, she giggled and interrupted. “So, um… if I had to guess, you’re here for a new tomato plant?”

“Yep!” Doug perked up and looked in her direction, grabbing Dylas’ hand like nothing had transpired. The corner of Dylas’ lip quirked up and he blushed ever so slightly--even after all these years, which Frey thought was adorable. It made her heart pang with longing, though, and she struggled to banish all thoughts of Leo from her mind until she was alone.

From that point forward, the days blurred together. She went to work, tended her garden, and stopped by the library--but much less often, because Kiel had noticed that she wasn’t quite herself. Unintentionally, she had started to distance herself from Amber and Lumie, too. Doug and Dylas’ relationship became too painful to witness. She even avoided Dolce at home, who was growing more concerned by the day. It was exhausting to pretend she was fine and she was awful at keeping up a facade, so she only interacted as much as she had to.

May was coming to an end. Normally it was one of her favorite times of the year, when spring began to warm and transition into summer. Her flowers were in full bloom, her vegetable garden was thriving, and the farmer’s market was bustling. None of those things eased her discomfort, though, and every day was a challenge. If she had closure, maybe she could heal, but the likelihood of that happening was more or less nonexistent. She had to find a way to cope, but she wasn’t sure how.

It didn’t help that, more often than was fair, she thought she heard him. At work, when a customer asked for assistance, she heard Leo’s voice. In the afternoon, when she was walking home, anyone greeting her from across the street sounded like him. Every time she realized her mind was playing tricks on her again, she had to swallow the lump in her throat and fight back tears.

She still half-expected him to be waiting in her room every day when she came home, and she hopelessly wondered if she would ever be the same again.

Chapter Text

It had taken every last shred of willpower he possessed to avoid Frey.

Ventuswill had actually dropped him right in the middle of the field behind Frey’s house--with a duffle bag full of clothing and supplies, no less--and he had been so tempted to visit her. Instead, he gave her property a wide berth, skirting around it until he reached the main road. He walked in a direction he had never gone before, just to make sure he steered clear of Carnation’s. He knew that, if he saw her, he wouldn’t be able to resist introducing himself.

Simply having the ability to walk in any direction he chose, with no idea where the road would lead or if it led anywhere at all… gods, he had missed that--the exhilarating uncertainty that came with travel and exploration. He was reminded of his previous life and his nomadic tendencies, of the spontaneity he had long ago accepted he would never experience again. And yet, here he stood. It was thrilling. His heart was pounding.

Luck favored him, as it turned out. This time, he actually did have an end in mind. He knew exactly where he needed to go and he had an idea of how to get there, but the solution appeared right in front of him--coming to a shuddering halt just shy of the sidewalk, puffing out exhaust (one of his least favorite consequences of modern convenience), and flashing his destination in large orange letters.

He was entirely uncomfortable with this, seeing as how he had just spent the last 400 odd years in a confined space, but he took a deep breath and pressed forward. This would shave days off his journey, especially considering he didn’t know how walkable the route was--so a mere hour's discomfort would be worth it. Frey had mentioned before that Norad was about an hour away by bus, less if it didn’t make frequent stops.

When he stepped inside, the driver didn’t even give him a second glance, and he was thankful for Ventuswill’s foresight to suitably clothe him before she sent him back. He would have drawn far too much attention in his flashy djinn attire, which was the exact opposite of what he wanted, at least for now. He would prefer to blend in while he figured things out.

Even though he supposedly looked like a typical human now--he needed to find a mirror to confirm that--he felt like an alien in disguise. His body, his surroundings, the way the world worked--he was sure that it would take months, if not years, to adjust. Modern transportation and conveniences boggled his mind. He regretted not asking Frey more about the internet and cell phones, but he never imagined that information would be useful to him. At least he had gleaned enough information to know the very basics.

There were only a handful of other people on the bus, mostly situated toward the back, but he sat closer to the front--the nearer he was to the door, the faster he could get off this thing as soon as it arrived in Norad. It actually wasn’t as awful as he thought, thanks to plenty of windows, but he had never experienced being in motion like this. It was somewhat nauseating, which was a strange sensation in and of itself. He hadn’t even thought about his stomach in so long; he wondered if he would recognize the signals of hunger and thirst.

The ride was smooth except for the occasional bump, and he had so much to think about that he was sufficiently distracted. There were less trees and more buildings as they got closer to the city, and he remembered what Frey had said about larger, densely populated areas--that they were mostly concrete and lacked greenery. He already didn’t like the sound of it, but he decided to try and keep an open mind.

It was going to be a steep learning curve, but he was undeterred. The end result would be more than worth it.

A long and arduous month later, when he returned to Selphia on that same bus, the prospect of seeing Frey again was completely overwhelming.

The last time he was there, he had been a completely different person--a brand new person--who had to relearn nearly everything. Now he felt somewhat confident and capable of forging his own path, and more importantly, he wouldn't burden her. He had already turned her life upside down once before, and she was so kind-hearted that she would have insisted on helping him get acclimated. He wanted to surprise her by already having done that.

He walked briskly in an attempt to calm his nerves, settling the strap of his bulky duffle bag over his shoulder. How would he even approach her? He couldn’t just go up to her and introduce himself, could he? Because Selphia was so small and she knew everyone, she would probably notice him and introduce herself first. That would be ideal, but--

He froze in his tracks and cursed under his breath, readjusting the strap that was already biting into his skin. How had he failed to plan for this? The moment she repeated his name, she would be flooded with memories, likely in front of other people. So what was he going to do, tell her that he would only introduce himself properly in private? Maybe tell her not to repeat his name until he said it was okay? He chuckled wryly and continued walking, shaking his head.

The only solution he could come up with, one that ensured their privacy, was to catch her at home. He could say he was new in town and going around to introduce himself--which might be a little awkward if people didn’t typically do that, but at least it wouldn’t last for more than a few minutes. As long as he could hold and comfort her as their shared memories were restored, that was all he cared about. He hoped that, with his support, it wouldn’t be as difficult for her to come to terms with.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't realize he had already reached her home until he was standing directly in front of it. Her garden had exploded with flowers since he last saw it, and he immediately noticed an abundance of charm blues. It was his favorite flower, known for its beauty and poisonous qualities, and he was pleased to find that it still existed after all this time. It was such a strange coincidence that she had filled her front flower bed with charm blues, of all flowers, and he took it as a good omen.

The sun was sinking on the horizon as he climbed the creaky porch steps--leaving his duffle bag at the bottom--and knocked on the familiar red door. He held his breath, trying to determine if anyone was approaching, and silently cursed his inadequate human ears. Over the last month, his subpar hearing--compared to how sensitive it was before--had been one of the hardest things to get used to. Maybe it was actually a blessing, though, because Norad was crowded and loud.

He tried knocking one more time, but he didn’t hear a thing, which probably meant she wasn’t home. In the month he had lived with her, every time the doorbell rang, she bounded down the hall to answer it--‘just in case someone needs help,’ she always said. He smiled fondly at the memory as he descended the stairs, taking one last look at the predictably immaculate charm blues as they swayed in the balmy air.

As much as he wanted to find Frey, it was probably best to settle in first. His new boss--he was still adjusting to having one--was inordinately helpful and accommodating, and he had even rented his spare bedroom out to him for a few weeks while he was in Norad. He also had close friends in Selphia, so he called ahead to arrange a room for him at the Bell Hotel. He remembered seeing the place, and it was so small it could barely be called a hotel, but it was adequate for a town of this size.

Finding work and making connections had been far more successful than he anticipated. In a true stroke of luck, it turned out that his unique knowledge of ancient texts was highly sought after at Norad’s history museum, which was the largest on the continent. The first week had been tough, reacquainting himself with the needs of a fully functioning body and having to purchase things like clothing and food. If Ventuswill hadn’t provided him with the basics, it would have been unimaginably worse.

Come to find out, the dragon god had been rather creative when she granted his wish, adding several perks--some useful, some ludicrous. As with all wishes, dozens of tiny details went into making them mesh with the existing world, and somehow or another she had made him a legitimate member of society. He even had an ID and a bank account with a little money to start him off, as well as a cell phone, which he hadn’t even bothered with yet. That was one thing he would request Frey’s help with.

As for the facetious liberties Ventuswill had taken, well--the most important thing to her, evidently, was that he never forgot her. Every single day, he would be reminded that his life and everything it entailed was all thanks to her. When she changed his appearance in the sky, she hadn’t just removed his djinn traits; she had also added, essentially, a picture of herself.

When he was preparing to bathe for the first time and glimpsed it in the mirror, he had recoiled in shock, then spent his entire shower laughing at her audacity. He couldn’t even be mad--getting stuck with an elaborate dragon tattoo for the rest of his life was a small price to pay for a second chance. He had taken to thumping the left side of his chest--where her scaly face was--and smirking up at the sky, hoping that she saw him and rolled her eyes.

She was probably still patting herself on the back for that idea, as well as the golden ring that pierced the top of his left ear. It was undoubtedly meant to remind him of the one he wore as a djinn, which it did. He hadn't decided if he wanted to keep it or not, but it unexpectedly helped his new appearance seem more familiar to him.

Carnation's was just ahead, on the way to the hotel, and he took a deep, steadying breath. Unless Frey was working late, which was a rare occurrence, he knew she wasn’t there. He glanced at the storefront as he passed it, and sure enough, it was dark. Up next was the general store with a small gas station situated behind it, and then the tiny hotel.

Lugging his cumbersome bag around was growing old, and he decided to check in and drop it off in his room. He was too restless to stay there, and he habitually tucked a book under his arm--he still spent every spare second reading, refreshing his memory on various topics.

As low as the sun was when he reemerged, influencing the buildings along the main street to cast irregular shadows as he walked, he would also be surprised if she was at the library. She often mentioned barely having enough time to go after work, and she never stayed long so Kiel could close in time. She was remarkably thoughtful, never wanting to inconvenience anyone but always willing to inconvenience herself, and that was one of the many reasons why he--

Something caught his attention mid-thought, an unmistakable flash of mint green that just skirted his field of vision, and his heart--which had been tested substantially more than usual that day--was no longer capable of maintaining a steady beat. The urge to turn his head and look through the wide glass window was immense, but he decided to circle around and gather his thoughts first. If her initial impression of him as a human was a bumbling, flustered, incoherent mess, he might not ever live it down.

Assuming his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, she was inside Porcoline’s, one of the few restaurants in town. He very, very briefly considered the possibility that she might be on a date, but he struck it from his mind. One afternoon, when he had gone on a walk with Frey and Meg, the topic of relationships came up. Meg, who he subsequently learned was engaged to Forte, had needled her about her relationship status for a solid 20 minutes until she finally gave up. In the end, Frey had simply shrugged and said dating wasn’t a priority for her.

He doubted she had changed drastically in the past month, since she seemed pretty set in her ways, and in that case he had nothing to worry about. With that thought in mind, he retraced his steps as his breathing slowed and his heart rate calmed. Now he just needed to figure out how to avoid leering through the window and looking like a creep, and when his eyes landed on the pair of benches in the middle of the small square, he had an idea.

In one of the last novels he read--which was awful, but that was beside the point--the main character had covertly spied on his love interest by pretending to read a book on a bench some distance away. Admittedly, he was also spying now, but considering the uniqueness of his situation… well, he wasn’t going to lose sleep over it--which was actually a thing that could happen, because he could finally sleep, although he suffered from nightmares and insomnia.

He was aching to see her, even if it was just a glimpse, especially because their introduction would have to wait until the following day. It was dusk and he wasn’t going to risk scaring her by approaching her in the dark. With that decided, he sat on the bench and opened his book--on a topic he was excited to share with Frey later--and when he glanced up at Porcoline's, he was so startled by her proximity that he almost jumped.

She was seated at a table directly in front of the window, alongside four friends he instantly recognized, and the sight of her stole his breath. She was still in her typical work clothes--a Carnation’s t-shirt and jeans--so she had probably met up with them directly after work. He had to tear his eyes away and force himself to appear focused on the book, but the words may as well have been written in an ancient language--well, they literally were written in an ancient language, but he would have been able to understand them if not for his sudden inability to breathe.

He found himself tempted to use the open book as a substitute for his fan; he should have asked Ventuswill if he could keep that. There was no doubt he would look infinitely more suspicious peering at her over the tops of extravagant peacock feathers, but what an introduction that would have been. He chuckled to himself as he imagined it.

Transferring the book from one hand to another, he shifted his position restlessly. He only allowed himself to glance up very briefly, slowly counting to 30 before chancing it again, and each time his chest felt tighter. Every glimpse made him long for her more intensely-- a smile here, a laugh there, a sip of wine or two, and then she was staring directly at him.

He couldn't look away.

At first he thought she had simply noticed a new face and was curious, but then her skin rapidly paled and her lips slightly parted. Her widening green eyes spoke of recognition and he saw his own heartache reflected back at him.

She stood so abruptly that she nearly knocked over her glass, but she didn't seem to notice because her eyes didn’t stray from his. Not once. He vaguely registered Meg snatching the toppling glass before it spilled, the bewildered stares of Forte and Xiao Pai, Amber’s expression of concern--but he maintained Frey's gaze like it was his lifeline. In many ways, it was.

She disappeared from the window, leaving confusion in her wake, and then everything moved in slow motion. His limbs were heavy, his lungs were paralyzed, his pulse hammered so loudly that he was incapable of hearing anything else. His mind reeled as he stood on shaky legs, blindly dropping his book on the bench. He watched the entrance with bated breath.

She exploded through the door with enough force to knock a person out cold, had someone been unlucky enough to stand there, and then she crashed into him so hard and so fast that what little air he had left was forced out of him. He stumbled backward half a step as he caught her, and there was a brief, strangled wail as her small frame coiled around him. Then she wept; she sobbed in a way that implied she had feared him dead.

"Oh, Frey, you weren't supposed to remember yet,” he murmured tearfully into her hair, instantly grounded by the familiar smell of citrus. He cradled the back of her head with one hand, wrapped his opposite arm around her slender waist, and held her so tightly that she molded against him. It was impossible to press any closer, but she still wasn’t close enough.

She was trembling with repressed sobs, hiding her face against his chest and clenching the back of his shirt with both hands, and he thought his breaking heart might shatter. Ventuswill had promised him that Frey wouldn’t remember until she spoke his name, which he had expected to prevent this outcome, but something had obviously gone very wrong.

“Leo… is it really you?” Her tiny, quivering voice was muffled by his shirt as she clung to him. She seemed reluctant to look up and confirm his identity, like she suspected he might be a figment of her imagination.

He had to fix this somehow. He closed his eyes to block out the baffled stares of virtually everyone in the restaurant, most of whom had gathered around the window, and focused on reassuring her. Hoping she could hear the smile in his voice, he affectionately nuzzled his cheek against hers and spoke softly. “Of course it’s me, Little Moth… just an improved version, as long as you ignore my lack of magic and unremarkable sense of hearing.”

Her petite form trembled again, but this time it was accompanied by breathy giggles, and he smiled in relief. She gradually raised her head at the same time he did, and as her misty green eyes met his, he realized exactly how much he had missed her. He gingerly brushed away hot tears with the pad of this thumb, then smoothed her mussed hair as he studied her delicate features. There was the barest hint of a fading sunburn on the apples of her cheeks, not a stitch of makeup on her face, and he was mesmerized by her natural beauty. 

"You said I wasn't supposed to remember yet. What did you mean?" Her weak smile trembled and he had a sinking feeling that her memories had been restored weeks ago, somehow. Had he known, he would have come back without a second thought. He felt indescribably guilty for putting her through this, and he sighed as he hung his head.

"Your memories weren't supposed to return until--" 

"Until I spoke your name?"

"How do you know that?" His head shot back up, brows knitted together.

"Well, as soon as I said 'Leo,' I was overwhelmed with memories of you. Pico wrote a message asking what happened to you, and I read it aloud. I guess she was able to remember you because she's a ghost…?"

"Damn it." He leaned down and nuzzled her forehead with his own, furious at himself. "I neglected to consider Pico. I wanted to be here when you remembered. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be… we can talk about that more later. I'm just happy that you're here.” She smiled genuinely, to his relief, and squeezed him tightly before she leaned back. Her eyes were burning with curiosity.

"What is it?" He raised a brow as she grinned at him. She was too good. He wasn't sure if he deserved her.

“Your ears…” She looked stunned, staring at him in disbelief as she slowly cupped his face in her shaky hands. “You look so different.”

“Is that a deal breaker?” He pretended to be wounded, frowning petulantly. “You seem disappointed.”

“No, of course not,” she giggled. Her tense expression temporarily relaxed before her eyebrows knitted together again, and she tilted her head. “I thought I was imagining things when I saw you. Where have you been?”

“I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as we're somewhere more private. Anything you want to know, I'll tell you.” He interrupted a stray tear with gentle fingers, gazing into her hopeful eyes reassuringly.

“I’ll hold you to that. But…” Her voice faltered and she paused, pressing her lips together. She seemed hesitant to continue. “Are you here to stay? You won’t disappear again?”

“No, never--not unless you want me to.” He smirked softly and she looked slightly irritated, which made him chuckle. He tenderly kissed her forehead before speaking earnestly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll promise that, as well.”

She smiled but her expression was pensive, and it was obvious she wanted to say more. If she felt anything like him right now, she had so much to say that she couldn’t decide where to begin. It didn’t help that, out of the corner of his eye, he could see that most of the restaurant’s customers were still watching them curiously. Her friends were also quietly observing, their faces visibly etched with concern.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he suggested. He cupped his hands around her slight shoulders and gave them a comforting squeeze. “Our little audience is starting to unnerve me.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding eagerly before nibbling her lip. Her subconscious habit set his heart aflame as always, and he just barely resisted kissing her. “I need to tell my friends goodbye real quick. They look pretty worried. Will you…?”

“Lead the way.”

She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, then graced him with another shaky smile before grabbing his hand. He gladly linked his fingers with her much smaller ones, then closely followed as she turned and approached the restaurant. As soon as they were beneath the alcove near the door, hidden from prying eyes, she pivoted on her heel and threw her arms around his neck.

He instantly leaned down to meet her lips and she kissed him with such fierce desperation, tangling her fingers in his hair to tug him closer, that he was temporarily stunned. He quickly recovered and tilted his head opposite hers, cradling the back of her head and tasting a hint of white wine. Their mouths met feverishly, with such passionate intensity that it felt like his thundering heart would burst, and they didn’t part until they were panting and red-cheeked.

“I missed you, too,” he chuckled, and the words had scarcely left his mouth before she stood on her tip-toes and yanked him down again. This time he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her hard and slow, frequently drawing back to change his angle and tug at her bottom lip. She whimpered and gasped against his mouth, a sweet sound that instantly transported him back to their last night together, and it snapped him back to reality.

“I’m not above whisking you off somewhere,” he purred, “so if you want to talk to your friends, we’d better go now.”

“Give me a second.” She laughed breathlessly, holding on to his arms to steady herself. Her smile reached her luminous eyes, making them sparkle beneath the twinkling lights that were suspended from the alcove.

Once more, he found himself entranced, and it struck him--like Ventuswill sent a lightning bolt from the sky, straight into the center of his chest--that he loved her.

“You okay?” she asked with a tilt of her head, taking his hand again.

“More than okay.”

Chapter Text

Frey barely managed to stay upright as the adrenaline in her veins--sparked by his sudden reappearance and passionate kisses--gradually waned. She hadn’t taken another step toward the restaurant. It felt impossible to gain control of her wobbly legs and force them in that direction; all she really wanted to do was run away with him.

“Well?” Leo chuckled warmly, squeezing her hand. Even as a human, bereft of the magic that rendered his appearance immaculate, he remained unreasonably beautiful. She watched the wind play with his long cyan hair, then the unfamiliar sight of him reflexively tucking it behind his human ears.

“O-oh! Right, um…” she stuttered, feeling a touch bashful. She had almost forgotten how penetrative his gaze was; those striking azure eyes were making her head swim.

“Remember, my self control is hanging on by a thread,” he warned teasingly as he inclined his face toward her, setting her cheeks aflame.

“Actually…” She drew a shaky breath, watching him raise an expectant eyebrow. “Let’s get out of here. If we go inside, they’re going to swarm us and ask a million questions, and I just… I just want to talk to you. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he grinned, following her lead as she tugged him down the sidewalk, “but I didn’t think making you cry in front of half the town, then disappearing into the night would make for a great first impression.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll text the girls and let them know I’m okay.” She yanked her phone from her jeans pocket with her free hand, giggling breathlessly as she added, “They’re going to be so mad at me for keeping them in suspense, but I’ll promise to tell them everything tomorrow.”

“Everything, huh?”

“Well, a made up version of ‘everything,’ anyway. I guess we need to come up with a good cover story, if you’re going to...” She slowed her rapid footsteps as she fired off a brief group text message, realizing she didn’t know what his plans were yet. Struggling to seem unbothered, she shrugged her shoulders and asked, “A-are you going to stay here in Selphia?”

He was uncharacteristically silent, eyebrows furrowed pensively as he cast his eyes to the ground. Gravel crunched beneath his shoes and she was momentarily distracted by how strange it was to see him in modern footwear. He was so familiar to her, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. It was a little unnerving.

“Y-you don’t have to, of course!” she blurted, loosening her grip on his hand. He was newly human after serving as a djinn for centuries, so how could he possibly know how he wanted to spend his second chance at life? He wasn’t obligated to stay beside her anymore, as much as that hurt to admit to herself.

“Hey, hey,” he interjected, tugging her toward him and clicking his tongue. She was so caught off guard that she nearly stumbled, but he held tightly to her arm and she didn’t fall. He leveled her with his steady gaze. “Were you even listening to what I said earlier?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Not very well, apparently,” he teased. “I told you I’m not going anywhere--not unless you want me to.”

“But...” She gasped out a surprised laugh, which made him eye her curiously. “You said that in the heat of the moment, when we were both emotional and overwhelmed, and--”

“Ah, I see,” he drawled, shooting her a sidelong glance. “I’m not taking the hint, am I?”

“H-huh?” Her sneakers scuffed the sidewalk as she shuffled to a stop, staring up at him in confusion.

“You always said you preferred your life as it was; you didn’t want your circumstances to change, and that’s why you didn’t know what to wish for. Things probably started to return to normal after I vanished, only for me to show up out of the blue tonight.”

His tone wasn’t accusatory or bitter at all; in fact, he was smiling so gently at her that her bottom lip quivered. She struggled to focus on his calm, unwavering voice as her eyes misted over.

“I’m truly sorry for complicating your life so much, Frey. It was never my intention.”

Her throat constricted painfully as she parted her lips to reply, and she swallowed hard to erase the lump in her throat. Then with all the strength she had left in her body, after the gauntlet of emotions she had been running for the past half hour, she pinned him with the most menacing glare she could muster. “Leo! Up until now, I thought you were really good at reading me.”

He puffed out a laugh, curving his wide palms around her shoulders, and steadily met her gaze. Although she tried to remain stern, her lips trembled and her vision blurred harshly enough to obscure his reaction.

He wrapped her in his arms.

“You’re not very good at reading me, either, as it turns out.” His voice was warm and velvety next to her ear as she buried her face in his chest, vaguely noticing that even his scent was completely different--no lingering traces of spice or incense. “These last 30 days felt longer than the last 30 years… I thought about you every second, and I wanted to see your smile more than anything. So again, and listen well this time–I’m here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, newfound freedom and all.”

Her heart leapt at his words and she sniffled, throat burning as she choked back a fresh wave of tears, and she needed to know everything-–all of it, all at once. Where had he been? How did he already appear so well-adjusted as a human? But just as she opened her mouth to ask, he interrupted her.

“Why are you vibrating?” He dropped his hands to the back pockets of her jeans, searching for the source of the disturbance, and she squeaked at the unexpectedly intimate contact.

“It’s my phone,” she gasped out, laughing as he tilted his head quizzically. She swiped the screen and showed him the influx of text messages pouring in. “Geez, the girls are texting me nonstop.”

“Ha, I don’t remember ever seeing your phone go that crazy before. Shouldn’t you answer them?”

“I will when we get home. I need to get my head straight, and I want to talk to you more first.” She gazed up at him and tried to take a deep, controlled breath–mostly failing. He shot her a sympathetic smile, obviously noticing her discomfort, and drew her back into his arms.

She could feel the soothing warmth of his lips, even through her hair, as he firmly kissed the crown of her head. Sighing contentedly, she fisted her hands in the back of his t-shirt and considered clinging to him in the middle of town forever--and she might have, if the distinct rumble of an engine hadn’t snapped her back to reality.

“Frey!” someone called just as she began to disentangle herself, and she hastily wiped at her watery eyes before spinning around to acknowledge them.

Leo stood beside her, watching as a white box truck with Sincerity emblazoned on the side shuddered to a stop. A familiar redhead was in the driver’s seat, peering at them through the lowered window.

“Oh! Hi, Doug,” she breathed, trying to gather her composure. “We were just--”

“I know Selphia is a tiny town, but geez,” the small-statured man sighed as he slammed the truck door and hopped over the curb. He laughed good-naturedly, but she had known him long enough to sense that he was suspicious of Leo--and rightfully so. It was rare for any of them to see a new face. “There have got to be better places to make out than directly in front of my store?”

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize we were--” Her cheeks burned as she trailed off, glancing over her shoulder to confirm their whereabouts. Sure enough, they were currently basking in the bright glow of Selphia’s one and only grocery store.

“It seemed as good a place as any,” Leo commented easily, wearing a cheeky grin as he extended his hand toward Doug. Luckily he realized the importance of that without any prompting. “I’m Leon. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Doug, and likewise,” the redhead responded with a wide smile, relaxing his shoulders a bit. He turned to her with a curious glint in his silver eyes, which quickly darkened in concern--her face was probably puffy and red, and of course he had to notice. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Everything’s great,” she replied quickly, smiling genuinely--because everything really was great, or at least it was going to be. She was just extremely overwhelmed, which made it hard to fabricate a believable excuse. “I, um, wasn’t expecting to meet up with Leo tonight. He surprised me and--”

“You’ve been talking to this guy for a while, then?” A look of genuine surprise graced Doug’s lightly tanned features. “I didn’t take you for the online dating type, Frey. But then again, I guess it’s not like you were going to meet anyone new here.”

She started to deny it, then sharply bit her tongue and glanced at Leo--whose expression was carefully neutral. Doug’s assumption couldn’t be more perfect; online dating would be an easy cover for their strange situation.

“Yeah, basically,” she laughed, releasing some pent up tension in the process. Breathing a little easier, she added, “We’ve been talking for a couple of months--”

“--And we had plans to meet up yesterday, but I had to cancel at the last minute because of work.” Leo spoke with such effortless confidence that she almost believed him herself. “I was able to escape this afternoon, though, so I decided to surprise her.”

Frey nodded in agreement, studying her longtime friend’s face for any hint of suspicion. Thankfully, he merely smiled before realization seemed to dawn on his face. “Oh, shit--you just met in person, then? Like, right now?”

“Well, y-yeah,” she fibbed, watching Doug’s cheeks darken as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, sorry!” he chuckled, jingling the keys in his pocket. “I’ll leave you two alone, then--unless you need anything? I’m here to take care of a few things before we close up, but we’re still open until--”

“I know when the store closes,” Frey giggled, surprised by Doug’s flustered state. He must have really felt guilty for interrupting, but then again, he was always pretty awkward in these kinds of situations. “I’ve only shopped here for, you know, my entire life.”

“Haha, right, of course,” Doug snickered, pushing through the door. He shot her one last searching look over his shoulder. "Well, see ya! Have fun, but not too much fun."

The glass door settled shut behind him before she could come up with a retort, and she found herself alone on the sidewalk with Leo again, sporting a significant blush.

"You know, I'm kinda glad you're already pretty familiar with my friends and their quirks," she giggled, shaking her head. "Things could be a heck of a lot more complicated."

"You think things are complicated now?" He nudged her arm and grinned. "Just wait until you hear the whole truth.”

"I'm not sure if I want to hear it anymore," she groaned, but she knew curiosity would eventually kill her. The only thing stopping her from grilling Leo for answers right that second was the residual shock of seeing him again, not to mention the fact that they were being continually interrupted.

She just wanted to be back home, alone with him where they could iron everything out. She wordlessly took his hand and he fell into step beside her.

"I can't help but wonder…" His tone was suddenly serious, and the drastic change commanded her attention. "Would it have been better for you to lose your memories of me, after all?"

"What?” She tried to decipher his expression as they walked beneath a street light, passing the dark windows of Carnation’s. “No. Why would you say that?"

"Don't get me wrong. I still would have returned here--would've found a way to introduce myself to you and hopefully befriend you." He wrapped her in a side-hug as they walked, sighing regretfully. "You wouldn't have had to endure the trauma of your lost memories returning, and you wouldn't have had to lie to your friends. Only I would’ve known the truth.”

"Even as hard as this is, and will probably continue to be for a while, I wouldn't trade those memories for anything… not even the ones of you driving me crazy."

"Surely being annoyed by me was a rare occurrence, though, right?"

“Right,” she said sarcastically, knocking him with her shoulder, and he snickered. “But seriously… I’m glad I remember. The thought of only you retaining our memories, never being able to share them with me, makes me painfully sad. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“You’re even more amazing than ever, somehow,” he murmured after a moment of silence. “Luckily for me, because like I said, I still have much to tell you. I’m not even sure how to explain any of it, to be honest.”

“Do you think I won’t believe you? Nothing is too far-fetched for me to believe at this point.”

“I’ve been around for hundreds of years, most of which were spent using magic and granting wishes, but I still can’t wrap my head around what happened after I last saw you.” He chuckled and widened his eyes at her as she glanced up in surprise, then added, “If that tells you anything.”

“Y-yeah, I guess it does.” She swallowed thickly and her heart, which had finally started to calm somewhat, danced erratically again. “Is that why you didn’t come back here right away?”

“I wanted to see you so badly,” he replied earnestly, squeezing her shoulder, “but I needed to find my bearings and learn how to support myself first, so I went straight to Norad.”

“You know I would’ve been happy to help you figure everything out, right? Norad must have been overwhelming.” She turned her head and gazed up at him sadly, and as they passed beneath another street light, her vision blurred. Imagining him going through such a massive transition alone almost triggered another bout of tears.

He stopped and enveloped her in his arms, effortlessly lifting her before continuing to walk. She yelped and clung to his neck, hooking her legs around his waist. Firmly, he answered, “Of course I know that, and that’s exactly why I stayed away. I didn’t want to depend on you for everything; I didn’t want to burden you--”

“You wouldn’t have been a burden!” she growled in frustration, tugging his hair.

“I knew you would say that, but just the same–it’s important to me that I know how to survive on my own in the modern world, and I wanted to be somewhat stable when I met you again. It might have been the perfect plan, if not for your memories returning prematurely.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she sighed, nuzzling her face into his neck and closing her eyes. “It makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“I’m glad you understand, but again, I’m sorry for what I put you through for the past month. I never imagined a certain nosy little ghost could throw a wrench in everything.”

“It’s okay, Leo. It’s really okay now that you’re back.” She kissed his cheek and he squeezed her more tightly in response. A sudden burst of giddy energy overtook her, making her giggle and wipe away her residual tears. “Someone’s going to see you–the stranger in town–carrying me, you know, and think that I’m being kidnapped.”

“I think I’ll have a word with that sheriff of yours tomorrow; she’s not doing a great job patrolling for kidnappers,” he joked.

“If you’re not happy with the level of security here, maybe you can work for her,” she teased. “I can picture you in uniform.”

“Oh you can, can you? Unfortunately I’m a little fed up with uniforms for the time being, not to mention that I already have a job.”

“What?” she gasped as they reached her front porch. He lowered her to her feet, then merely smirked, obviously happy to keep her in suspense. She used one of her hands to drag him up the porch steps, the other to fumble with her keys. “You better start talking, mister. There’s so much I don’t know that it’s starting to drive me crazy.”

“Patience, love,” he chuckled as she shoved the door open, and her heart flipped at the endearment. “We have all the time in the world now.”

“Do we really?” she asked softly, turning his words over in her head.

The month they lived together was both life-changingly long and painfully short, and almost the entire time it had been looming over their head–the knowledge that he might disappear at any moment. It was only just hitting her now, as she closed them off from the outside world, that they were no longer accompanied by the incessant tick of a time bomb.

They walked to her room hand in hand, wordlessly–almost reverently–because neither of them had truly allowed themselves to believe circumstances would ever allow for this again.

He stood in the center of her dark, quiet room and seemed to thoroughly take it all in–not that there was much to absorb; her room was simple (maybe a little cluttered), but he had spent the better part of a month between those four walls. She watched him inhale deeply, exhale just as gradually, and then he smiled sweetly as he faced her again.

Now that they were alone and her head was somewhat calmer, she finally had the opportunity to study and admire his new appearance. Without his facial tattoos, foxy characteristics, and fancy djinn garb, he was no longer otherworldly–although he remained remarkably handsome, even clad in such basic attire as jeans and a white t-shirt. She was so accustomed to his fluffy ears that she almost missed them, and she ruffled the hair they had once sprouted from.

He quirked a brow and she giggled, smoothing his silky hair back before explaining. “I was just thinking that I already miss tickling your ears, so I'll have to find another ticklish spot."

"Good luck. I don't have one,” he replied, winking playfully.

“I’ll need to confirm that.” She started to experiment on his sides, but he caught one of her hands and raised it to his lips. He was obviously trying to distract her and she let him. The kiss upon her knuckles was brief and chaste, but it still caused tingles to bolt up her arm and into her stomach, which was doing flip-flops. “I can't believe you're really here. I hope I'm not dreaming again."

"You still think this might be a dream?" His eyes were overflowing with familiar mischievousness, paired with the lopsided grin she loved so much. He hooked a finger beneath her chin, affectionately stroking the curve of her jaw with his thumb. “Do you want me to pinch you?”

"Yes, actually--but not too hard!" she squeaked, bracing herself and biting her lip. He was so intimidating when he was like this--not in a bad way; he just set every single nerve in her body on end. Anticipating his touch made her feel giddy and restless.

"I'll just pinch your cute cheeks like I normally do." He chuckled and did just that, firmly pinching one and then the other. She glowered at him, but she had missed his teasing more than she let on. "There. Are you awake?"

Truthfully, she answered, "I'm still not sure."

He released her cheek and began to tenderly caress it instead. She tilted her head up and to the side while he leaned forward, and then his face was mere inches from hers. He slowly traced her bottom lip with his thumb, gazing into her eyes before he lowered his head, and his kiss was gentle as he savored her. She felt weightless as his opposite arm tightened around her.

"How about now?" he asked when he pulled back, tucking a stray tendril of mint hair behind her ear.

"Yeah,” she replied breathlessly, “now I'm almost positive."

"But not convinced?" The corner of his mouth twitched upward and he gazed at her through lowered lashes.

She bit her lip and smiled coyly, shaking her head, and his chest vibrated with laughter. He angled his head to kiss her more deeply and she parted her lips, reaching up and grasping his neck to pull him closer. His fingers tangled in her hair, mussing it and loosening the ties, but she was so distracted that she didn’t notice--an electric thrill raced down her spine when his velvety tongue darted between her lips.

She was dazed by the time he broke the kiss and touched his forehead to hers. Her eyes had to readjust to her surroundings; she had been so immersed that it felt like she had been transported to another time and place. She leaned heavily against his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, tickling her skin with his warm breath when he sighed contentedly. He wrapped his arms snugly around her.

Even after that, she remained consumed by the urgent need to prove to herself that he was real, to purge herself of the unsettling feeling that he might vanish again. ‘His’ chair caught her eye and she instantly perked up, remembering the endless nights she spent wishing he would reappear in it, and she tugged him across the room.

“Don’t you think I spent enough time in this chair already?” he scoffed, lowering himself into the plush seat when she stared at it pointedly. Despite his tone, his eyes and smile were warm as he looked up at her.

He was already reaching for her when she leaned over and threw her arms around his neck, and his mouth met hers with the intensity she needed, intensity that grounded her–that told her he wouldn’t vanish out from under her again. Almost automatically she crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs with a biting kiss, and she briefly broke free to impatiently rip off her shirt.

She hooked her fingers under his shirt next, struggling to remove it between frenzied kisses and sharp nips at her breasts–through the thin material of her bra, which would definitely be the next thing to go–when he very abruptly grabbed her hands and leaned back to stare at her.

“Leo?” she panted, trying to decipher his disturbingly blank expression. He looked like he had just remembered something so important that it literally froze him in his tracks, and he was so unresponsive that she almost started to panic–but then he suddenly laughed.

“I almost forgot about… well, it’s just another of the many weird things I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, and I don’t want you to be too shocked. So hold on a second.” He perched his hands on her hips and squeezed affectionately, then huffed out another laugh and shook his head before continuing.

“What is it? Hurry, my imagination is running wild.” She squirmed nervously, gnawing her lip and searching his surprisingly calm eyes. “Especially because this is apparently something you have to tell me before we, um–”

He reached up to cradle her chin in his palm, pressing his thumb over her lips as he shot her a disgruntled look. “How do I put this? Basically… as you know, when I became a djinn, I gained inhuman physical attributes. I had ears, a tail, and–well, it’s not common knowledge, but all djinns are blessed with–”

“Stop it! I know where you’re going with this,” she laughed, shoving his chest. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you,” he purred cryptically, yanking his shirt over his head.

“What–how–when did you–” She gave up trying to voice a coherent question, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of color decorating his broad chest. Her mouth fell open as she traced the intricate green dragon, which spanned from his ribs to his collarbone, with the tips of her fingers. For a moment she suspected it was an elaborate trick and the ink might smear, but the tattoo was undoubtedly real.

“Y-you got a tattoo while you were in Norad?!” 

“And a piercing.” He pushed his hair back and she peered at the golden ring ornamenting the cartilage of his left ear. “I was cooped up for several lifetimes; I needed to rebel.”

“Okay, seriously--” She lightly smacked his chest with the back of her hand, shooting him a sardonic look.

“Both body modifications were instant and painless,” he said flatly. “Gifts, if you will, from a very self-absorbed dragon.”

“A dragon,” she repeated dazedly, searching his cerulean eyes for any hint of deception. She found none.

***EXPLICIT CONTENT STARTS***

In her shock, she had almost forgotten she was shirtless and straddling his lap–that is, until he suddenly leaned forward and kissed the pillowy tops of her breasts, sending a wave of scorching heat through her. His wide hands smoothed over her hips and thighs, coming to rest on her butt and squeezing firmly.

“Any further questions?” he whispered, flicking his tongue out across her rapidly heating flesh. She shivered when her skin prickled, delving her hands into his hair to hold him closer as he sucked her neck.

Of course she still had numerous questions, far more than she had even a few minutes ago, and any answers that would satiate her likely didn’t exist. If she had learned anything in the last few months, it was that the universe held mysteries she couldn’t even begin to comprehend, and none of it would ever make logical sense to her.

It would be scary, even depressing to think about the vastness of those mysteries if he wasn’t beside her–or beneath her, as he was now, which was making it impossible to think straight. But for the time being, she realized she didn’t want to think anymore, anyway.

“Dozens, but they can wait.” Sitting up in his lap, she hastily unfastened her bra and slid it from her trembling shoulders, overcome with adrenaline and the need to feel his skin on hers. He was on the same wavelength because the second her breasts were bared, he covered them in open-mouthed kisses and teased the rosy peaks with his tongue.

She whimpered in frustration, wanting to remove the rest of their clothing, but also unwilling to move from her position and interrupt the heavenly things he was doing to her. After a moment, much to her relief, he decided for her–leaning back in the chair to fumble with the waistband of her jeans. She was forced to stand up to kick them the rest of the way off, along with her shoes and panties, and within a matter of seconds she was standing completely naked in front of him.

Of course he had seen her like this before, but it had only been once, and it seemed so long ago now. She flushed hotly, suddenly feeling shy and vulnerable despite the lack of adequate lighting–she hadn’t even bothered to turn the lamp on, allowing the subtle light of the moon to guide them.

“So beautiful,” he murmured softly, tracing her figure and kneading her hips with his warm hands. The clear fondness in his eyes made his feelings nearly palpable, which started to put her at ease, and then she was thoroughly distracted by the welcome sight of him briskly removing the rest of his own clothing.

With their discarded attire piled at her feet, she climbed back into his lap with a rush of passion that made her feel dizzy and almost out of control. She was instantly transported back to the night he disappeared, when they made love for the first and only time in a similar position–but on her bed, which might as well have been a mile away at that moment.

The armchair was large enough that she could comfortably plant her knees on either side of his thighs, allowing her to easily align their hips, and before she knew it she was sinking onto the head of his cock. They shared the same breath in that instant, open mouths meeting in a blissful gasp, and she was overcome by the sensation of her inner walls drawing him inside, joining them seamlessly and completely.

“I missed you so much,” she rasped out, shivering as her body was racked with pleasurable chills.

He kissed her hard in wordless agreement, grabbing her hips as he drove his upward, helping her grind against him. She pushed back as firmly as she could, wanting to feel him more deeply than was possible, already breathless from a combination of emotion and effort and the pure ecstasy he was stirring within her.

Before, they had savored their first--and what should have been their very last--time together, but now their bodies met in rapid succession, each movement more desperate than the one before it. She hooked her arms under his and dug her nails into his back, using her quivering legs to rock in time with his steady thrusts, and she couldn’t quell her ecstatic cries. He reacted similarly, voicing his approval in short, ragged bursts.

Her forehead came to rest against his and she met his gaze, half-lidded and stunningly intense–until the tightening sensation in her core was so overwhelming that she could only close her eyes and cling to his neck. She gasped, burying her face in his hair as her body tensed, then spasmed with enough force to make her involuntarily cry out.

He grabbed the backs of her thighs, digging his fingers in and rising to meet her over and over again, drawing out the shockwaves that were shattering her trembling body second by second. His hot mouth found her neck and she felt his breath shuddering against her skin as he went rigid, hands tangling in her hair as he came undone with her name on his lips. A moment later he moaned softly, relaxing into the chair and leaning his head back, panting. He cuddled her in his arms as the excitement wore off, replaced by something akin to euphoria.

***EXPLICIT CONTENT ENDS***

“As incredible as that felt, the best part of all was…” He trailed off as he idly massaged her back, which prompted her to raise her head, and he shot her an endearing smile before continuing. “We weren’t saying goodbye this time.”

“I agree.” She showed him a smile in return, although hers was more watery than she intended. “It almost seems too good to be true.”

“It’s true.” His tone was firm and reassuring as he locked his eyes on hers and stroked her cooling skin. “I have…. a story to tell you about that, if you’re ready to hear it.”

“Another story that’s not within the pages of any book?”

“Indeed,” he replied with a wink, “and this time you’re in it, too.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” she announced, then giggled when she got up and realized how wobbly her legs were.

He stood beside her and steadied her, huffing out an amused breath as she flopped onto the bed. Much to her enjoyment, he dramatically collapsed beside her, making her break into a fit of giggles, and her laughter continued until they clumsily situated themselves beneath the floral sheets.

“Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling after she fluffed her pillow for the third time.

She nodded happily, savoring the feeling of his legs intertwining with hers and his arm draping over her waist. He kissed her cheek, then propped his head up on his opposite hand.

"I’ll start at the beginning.” The corner of his mouth twitched suspiciously, but the look in his eyes--still luminous and bright blue, just not as unearthly as they once were--was actually quite serious. He seemed to be deep in thought, unsure of how to word his next sentence, but then he shrugged and spoke candidly. “After I vanished from your bed, I woke up in the sky and was led to a castle in the clouds--the home of a god named Ventuswill, who turned out to be a dragon."

"Leo…” She narrowed her eyes and he evenly returned her stare; he didn’t even flinch. A spontaneous, nervous laugh burst forth from her chest.

"I told you, it’s beyond the realm of reason.” He chuckled lightheartedly, but in the next breath, he sobered his tone. “Ventuswill told me to reaffirm my wish, which confused me at first. I failed to notice you were able to give me your wish that night–probably because I didn't have any power left, so my body didn't respond to the magic words at all.”

"I didn’t notice it then, either, but I realized what happened when my memories came back.” She felt the promise of tears pricking the back of her throat, recalling the overwhelming sensation--how intensely the images had flooded her mind, leaving her breathless and confused. He noticed when her voice wavered, gazing into her eyes and rubbing her back. “But then I couldn’t figure out why you weren’t here, and I worried that somehow the second half of the wish had gone wrong. But Ventuswill asked you to reaffirm it, so–”

“She personally granted it, and I was able to request that you wouldn’t remember me immediately–although that didn’t make a difference in the end, thanks to you-know-who.” He scowled and glanced around. “Let me guess… there was a thunderstorm the night she told you. I can’t imagine she’d have the energy to manifest anymore, otherwise.”

“Yeah, it’s back to how it was before I brought your bottle home. She doesn’t show up very often, but she’s much more active during storms.” She looked down at his chest, finding herself studying the dragon’s–Ventuswill’s–regal face. “What is Ventuswill like? She must be a pretty benevolent god if she went to the trouble of bringing you to her castle and granting your wish.”

“Ha, I’m not so sure ‘benevolent’ is the right word. ‘Pompous,’ maybe.” He smirked. “But Venti, if you’re listening, I promise I’ll never blaspheme your name again and I’m eternally grateful for this opportunity.”

Frey cringed, gazing up at him with wide green eyes. “Please tell me you weren’t that irreverent to her face.”

“I can’t tell you that in good faith,” he chuckled, “but if it makes you feel any better, by the end of our conversation, she said she liked me.”

“Enough to permanently brand you, apparently.” She poked the scaly face on his chest.

“More like she wanted to ensure that I’m reminded of her, daily, for as long as I live. But anyway, it’s a small price to pay, especially considering everything else she did for me.”

“Like what?” she asked curiously. She propped herself up on her elbow, mirroring him.

“She made sure I had a legal identity, a bank account with enough money for necessities, and clothes when she sent me back. To be honest, I didn’t even consider asking for any of those things; I was so shocked about being human again that I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Wow, she sounds amazing. I wish I could have met her.”

“For some reason I feel like you two would hit it off… and make plenty of jokes at my expense.”

“That’s really wild to think about… being friends with a dragon, much less meeting one at all. I don’t even know how to process all this.”

“You’ll come to terms with this knowledge over time,” he said reassuringly, stroking her arm. “Same as when you learned ghosts and djinns are real.”

“I think I’ve only coped so well because of you. There’s no way I could handle all this knowledge of the supernatural by myself, unable to talk to anyone about it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. The human mind is remarkably proficient at accepting new truths, especially when it can’t reasonably dispute them. But anyway…” He showed her a lopsided smile and she instantly returned it. “When I opened my eyes next, I was actually standing in your favorite spot.”

“On the hill?”

“And from there, I walked straight to the bus stop before I talked myself out of it.”

“What do you think of Norad?”

He took a deep breath, sighing thoughtfully, then smirked. “I hate it.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’m not crazy about it, either. It’s loud, crowded, and stinky.”

“I can’t say it’s not an interesting place, though, particularly Chipsqueaker’s.”

She blinked, wondering if she heard him correctly. “Ch-Chipsqueaker’s?”

“You know of it, right? I’m sure you’ve at least seen it before; it’s hard to miss all the signs and lights.” He shot her a disarming grin. “I got a job there.”

“Y-you…” She implored herself not to laugh, but she had to clap her hand over her mouth as her eyes continued to widen incredulously.

“What? It suits me perfectly, don’t you think?”

“Leo… I, um….you–” Her lips were moving, but nothing more would come out.

“You okay? Don’t tell me you’re not into that kind of thing. I even brought my costume so I could show you–ah, damn, but it’s back at the hotel.”

The corner of his mouth just barely twitched in a tell-tale manner, and then realization abruptly hit her.

“Leo!” she yelled, scrambling to her knees and grabbing her pillow. She smacked him over the head with it once, then twice when he raised his arms in defense, but he was laughing so hard that he wasn’t defending himself very successfully. The third and fourth blows were more direct, and when she went for a fifth, he snatched the pillow from her hands and turned it on her.

Breathless and giggling, they collapsed side by side again, and she stuck her tongue out at him. “First you try to tell me that becoming a human again altered your size, and then–”

He laughed, which made her burst into laughter again, and she smacked his bicep as she tried to overcome it. “T-then you convince me you’re a male stripper! At Chipsqueaker’s! Which is like… have you seen the costumes?! I think you’d rather die than wear one, actually, so I don’t know how I fell for it.”

“You didn’t take the bait on the first one and ruined all my fun, so I had to come up with something else,” he chuckled, swatting her hand away when she tried to pinch him.

“You’re awful,” she breathed, wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands. He had her crying literal tears of laughter, just like he used to. “How am I going to believe anything else you tell me?”

“It’s a chance you’ll just have to take.” He grinned. “But I won’t ever carry on with a lie like that for more than, ah, a few minutes.”

“You better not!”

His grin widened. “Before you ask, yes, it is too late to put me back in the bottle. Now, would you like to know where I really work?”

“Where do you really work?”

“Norad’s history museum.”

“What?!” This time she was shocked in a good way. “That’s amazing! That’s got to be the perfect place for you considering your knowledge of the past, how much you love to read, and–”

“And I get to do work that’s similar to what I did before. It turns out that my old skills are still useful, although in a different way. There’s plenty of translation work to be had now, and I’m fluent in several languages from my time.”

“I’m so, so happy for you,” she gushed, flinging her arms around his neck and peppering him with kisses. When she pulled back, she was surprised to notice he was blushing and wearing a rather bashful expression.

“Thank you,” he said softly, cupping her cheek. “In fact, I need to thank you for several things. I’m ashamed that I haven’t already.”

“No you don’t,” she insisted, turning her head to kiss his palm.

“You did say, after all--when we first met--that you loved your life as it was… the simplicity of it. For the past few months, it’s been anything but simple, and that’s all because you cared about me."

She burrowed more deeply into his embrace, secure and comfortable. It sounded like he released a pent-up breath as he relaxed against her. “You’ve definitely complicated my life, and you’re nothing if not chaotic, but I’ve realized that simplicity is overrated.”

He laughed at that, squeezing her tighter. “Ah, but if you’ve realized that, do you regret forgoing your wish? You could have asked for something that ensured your life was never ‘simple’ again.”

“In a roundabout way, I did wish for exactly that.” She raised her head to look at him and he quirked a brow when she smirked impishly.

“Pfft.” His cerulean eyes were sparkling with mirth. “Well then, thank you for wasting your wish on me, Little Moth. You didn’t even hesitate; you flew straight into the flame as soon as it began to lure you. But I'm the chaotic one, am I?”

"Yes, and you’re a bad influence,” she giggled, blushing beneath the intensity of his gaze. His smile was brighter than she had ever seen it. “And anyway, you wasted your wish on me immediately afterward."

"So we're even yet again. I'd hardly call it a waste, though.”

“Definitely not a waste,” she agreed, pecking his lips. Then she snuggled closer still, stifling a yawn.

When she awoke the following morning, and every morning after that, he was always beside her.