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Something Wild - Chapter 1: I Don't Need A Soul

Pairing: fem!reader x Wumuti

Characters: Reader, Wumuti, Rui, Hyun, Haru, Original Characters

Summary:

Your grandmother always told you never to look into mirrors in the dark at night...

Too bad you never truly believed her superstitions.

...And now the king of the fae realm just happens to be your new roommate.

Congratulations?

Chapter WC: 11,210

Fic Rating: Explicit

Originally Published: 250828 on AO3

Tags: Under the cut

Banner by: @lovetaroandtaemin

A/N: Very special and endless thanks to @spacequokka and @lovetaroandtaemin for listening to me talk about this story nonstop, for brainstorming, and for your support. <3

Please comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this fic!

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fae, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Tricksters, Bickering, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Eventual Angst, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Teasing, Banter, Soul Bond

...If you're lost out where the lights are blinding Caught in all, the stars are hiding That's when something wild calls you home If you face the fear that keeps you frozen Chase the sky into the ocean That's when something wild calls you home...

~ Something Wild, Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness/Lindsey Stirling

“Never, ever, look into a mirror in the dark at night. That’s just inviting trouble.”

---

You sighed as you pushed your chair back from your desk. It had been another exceptionally long day— meetings that could have been emails, and a few clients that you were more than a little miffed with for their attitudes. Entitlement was a disease, and a lot more people had it these days, you felt. It was irritating, but at the end of the day, your bills were paid, so you tried to keep the complaining to a minimum.

“Always something though,” you muttered to yourself. “Never fucking fails.”

You heard something clatter on the floor in the kitchen, and sighed again.

“Trogdor,” you called to your cat, who amusingly enough, meowed as if to answer you. “What the entire fuck are you doing now, oh Mr. Burninator?”

You heard another plaintive meow as you walked out of your bedroom, and saw he’d tipped over his food bowl, scattering kibble clear across the floor.

Again.

You laughed and shook your head, patting him on his rump as he made a beeline for you. He was a sweet cat, an orange monstrosity with a singular brain cell that you had taken in as a stray. He had been much smaller then, and you often wondered if he had some Maine Coon in him, as big as he had gotten. You’d had him for five years now, and you couldn’t imagine life without him and the chaos he brought on the daily.

Chaos aside, you loved him to bits. You had never intended to keep him to begin with, but after he’d knocked over a candle that you thought for sure you’d set up out of his reach— burning a significant amount of the carpet in your bedroom to boot— you’d named him Trogdor the Burninator, and the rest was history.

“Poor baby, could you see the bottom of your bowl?” You laughed as he circled you while you cleaned up the mess he’d made. "Gonna report me to the ASPCA?"

He meowed again, louder this time.

“Starving to death, huh? Liar.”

You refilled the bowl and topped it off, and he happily settled into eating, purring up a storm as he did. You added to his water dish as well before flopping down onto the couch. You considered ordering dinner, but it was already past 11, and you had an early morning to look forward to, having promised your grandmother that you’d attend the sunrise yoga class she taught.

I did not think that one through. Too late to back out now though… Maybe. Why do people insist on doing yoga at sunrise? Far too early, if you ask me.

You settled for ramen as a cheaper alternative, then hopped into the shower, flipping out the light to bathe in the dark. You’d been in this apartment for a while now, and it was so tiny and arranged in such a way you could easily muscle memory your way through most anything, light or no light. You got ready for bed in near silence, save for Trogdor’s occasional yammering, and tried to stifle a yawn as you fumbled for your toothbrush.

You glanced in the mirror, and startled when you saw a figure, seemingly standing at the edge of the glass. It was tall, dressed all in white. You quickly looked back down at the sink, finishing your task at light speed before heading straight to bed. Your grandmother’s words echoed in your head. She’d always warned you, ever since you were young: never look into a mirror at night, in the dark.

Ever.

You had never believed her superstitions, but you had humored her all the same, for the most part.

Then again, this was the first time you’d ever seen something that wasn’t obviously an item or structure that you knew was in the room with you.

There’s no fucking way. I'm tired. That's all.

You shrugged, chalking it up to pure exhaustion. But part of you was deathly curious, and you went back to peek again.

Sure enough, the white-clad figure was still there. You could make out the barest hint of a face now, blonde curls under a white head covering.

You’d seen more than enough now, and made a mad dash from the bathroom, with Trogdor hot on your heels and meowing loudly.

“Did you see that too, Trogdor?” You asked the cat as he jumped up onto your bed with you. He sat in front of you, bending to bonk your knee with his head, and you laughed and scratched behind his ears, starting the purring up all over again.

“Maybe I’m just going crazy,” you said out loud with a sigh. “Which actually tracks, I guess.”

It was certainly possible, you supposed. It had had been a very long summer so far, and you were barely into July. The last three weeks alone had held all sorts of mischief, from a client who’d tried to stiff you on an extensive web design project that had taken you a month, to finally breaking it off with your fiancé, Emery.

The latter remained a problem, for as many places as you attempted to block him, he kept finding new ways to harass you, ask you for money, and generally be a tremendous pain in your ass. Emery had been smarter in his younger days, as far as you remembered, but lately, the word 'no' was not in his vocabulary.

You groaned as you saw the time— now half past midnight. Maybe you weren’t going to make that early yoga class after all. You reset your alarms, and shot off a quick text to your grandmother. You knew she wouldn’t see it until she woke up, but would not hesitate to tease you for letting the time get away from you once again.

You couldn’t really help it though— you’d always been a night owl, and your profession lent itself well to those tendencies, especially when meeting with clients in different timezones.

With one last sigh, you plugged in your phone and settled in, eventually drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

You awoke the next morning to a text from your grandmother.

Lillian [04:37am]: Someday we’re going to fix that sleep schedule of yours :p

You laughed as you responded, startling Trogdor, who was asleep next to you on the comforter.

You [9:21am]: Sleep schedule? Sounds fake. Also, you sent that BEFORE FIVE so like. There’s that. Sleep schedule who???

Lillian [9:22am]: Well you would know. And that’s not the point. But…as long as you’re taking good care of yourself.

You [9:22am]: As best I can considering the everything of it all :) At least it’s Friday!

Lillian [9:23am]: Good to hear. Maybe we can get coffee this weekend? Since you skipped yoga ;) I miss my favorite granddaughter.

You [9:24am]: Okay first of all, I am your ONLY granddaughter. Also... I had every intention of doing a yoga but then… I failed at going to bed on time.

Lillian [9:25am]: I assume it’s Trogdor’s fault again?

You hesitated, not wanting to admit to her what you’d seen. You knew that one, she would be curious, and two, she’d tease you. Nevertheless, you adored your grandma. Your parents had long been out of the picture, and Lillian had raised you in their absence. You often felt as though you owed her everything. She had been your biggest cheerleader through the years, and showed no signs of ever stopping.

You [9:27am]: Nah. Just time blindness. And maybe I might have worked until almost 11. Oopsie.

Lillian [9:28am]: Cut out early today. Grandma’s orders.

You [9:29am]: You don’t have to tell me twice. I was already considering it. Thinking about grabbing a last minute ticket to a show tonight, even.

She sent back a “do it” gif, and you laughed as you tossed the covers aside, clambering out of bed and padding to the kitchen.

You [9:30am]: Done and done. Love ya. Talk to you later?

Lillian [9:30am]: Absolutely. Be good. Love you too.

You [9:31am]: You be good first!! :)

Lillian [9:31am]: NEVER!!

You busied yourself with making coffee and breakfast, glad that you had no client meetings until noon. The day went off without much of a hitch, and you signed off around 3, nabbed a cheap ticket to see Chicago (again), and you were ready and out the door by 5.

When you returned home, you were annoyed to find that your automatic timers hadn’t come on. You shrugged, figuring you’d deal with it in the morning, and settled for the overhead lights instead while you got ready for bed.

Curiosity got the best of you once again as you were brushing your teeth, and you jumped in surprise when you saw the figure again— closer this time, and seemingly in the same room with you. You could see their features now, beautiful to the point of being inhuman, the soft blonde curls framing a gentle face bearing a broad smile. Their appearance was only made unsettling by the fact that their left eye was a deep red, a sharp contrast to the dark brown of the right.

Well, that, and they were in your mirror to begin with.

Honestly, what the fuck. Maybe I'm not sleeping as soundly as I thought.

You spun, but were met with the blank wall behind you.

When you looked back, the figure was gone.

Well if that’s not McFucking creepy as hell I don’t know what is.

You covered the bathroom mirror with a towel before going to sleep that night, feeling ever so slightly uneasy now. Part of you wondered if you were just losing it for real.

The rest of you was almost afraid your grandma had been right about mirrors.

Trogdor woke you early, with a yowling that you’d never heard from him before. You stumbled blearily out of the bedroom, and nearly fell over when you saw it— the figure from the mirror, now perched on the arm of your couch like they belonged there.

You stopped short, blinking, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“So I’m hallucinating now,” you muttered. “Like for real, for real. Cool. Amazing. Splendid, even.”

“Not quite,” they said softly.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to hold in the shriek trying to burst from your lungs, staring at them with eyes wide.

“No. This isn’t real.”

“It is. Very real."

“No,” you said airily, crossing to the kitchen and beginning to make some coffee. “I’m sleep deprived. You’re not real.”

“I am real," they argued. "I promise."

“Oh yeah, then who are you?” You asked indignantly, as if you were five.

Real mature. What the fuck. I need help. What is this?!

You glanced over to the door.

All three deadbolts and the bar were secure. Not that that meant a lot.

Could have locked up after themselves I guess? But… what the fuck.

You knew in your bones that whoever this was, they hadn’t come in through the door, though.

The goddamn fucking mirror. It's got to be.

“My name is Wumuti.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m the king of the fae realm.”

“Excuse me?” You cocked an eyebrow, now trying not to laugh. “What?”

Okay. Maybe… Maybe it’s time to visit the nearest hospital, you thought, lips pursed as you cut up an apple and scooped some peanut butter out onto a small plate. You swiped a slice of apple through the peanut butter and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.

Something tasted off, but you didn’t fully realize until you had swallowed, and a burning sensation rose in the pit of your stomach, followed by an intense wave of nausea.

Wait. Did. Did he… they… whatever… king of the FAE?!

“Shit,” you said flatly, as your vision went blurry and you crumpled to the floor in a heap.

When you came to, you were lying on your own couch, covered with one of your old quilts. You groaned and stretched, soreness radiating through your lower back.

Fuck. What the fuck was that dream? I don’t remember coming out to the couch…

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.

To your absolute dismay, you still had company, now sitting on the floor next to the couch, regarding you quietly.

No. Fuck no. Tell me this is NOT REAL. SAY SIKE, UNIVERSE. SAY SIKE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

Said company appeared very, very worried.

“This… was not supposed to happen,” Wumuti said cautiously, and you glared with as much strength as you could muster.

“What do you fucking mean?” You sputtered as you sat up, pushing the quilt away and scooting away from Wumuti. “You… whoever… whatever… what the fuck… I… you…”

“I told you. King of the fae,” Wumuti said firmly.

Matter-of-factly, as if this entire situation weren’t absurd in its own right.

“So…” You weren’t sure why your first thought amid all this absurdity was pronouns. “What… what do I call you?”

Wumuti shrugged.

“My name. Unless you mean pronouns… and I don’t care about that. Call me whatever you want.”

“Okay,” you said cautiously.

“Most people use he,” Wumuti said. “Some people call me Muti. It doesn’t matter. That’s neither here nor there.”

He held up his right wrist, where a red string bracelet was tied.

“This was not supposed to happen. And I am sorry.”

“Huh?”

He gestured to your own wrist, and you glanced down to see the same— a red string bracelet, decoratively knotted and woven, matching his own.

“So.” You were trying to remain calm as you tried to assess exactly what the fuck was happening. “You tricked me? Is that was this is?”

“Well, not exactly,” Wumuti began.

“Interesting verbiage,” you huffed, sitting up and scooting away. “What does this mean? Exactly?”

“It means,” he said with a heavy sigh, “that we’re soul bonded. I… this wasn’t my intent. I was looking for a companion. A friend. I wasn’t…” His voice faltered, and he hung his head. "I didn't mean for this to happen like it did."

Part of you wondered how sincere he was.

The rest of you was recalling every single bit of lore you’d ever heard about fae beings, and you were livid.

“But you tricked me,” you accused. “That’s still… you tricked me! On purpose! Was it the apple?!”

Wumuti nodded.

“The red one. But... Like I said... I didn’t… I didn’t intend…” He trailed off, obviously aware now that you were beyond upset.

Fuck. What the fuck?! WHAT THE FUCK?!

You hadn’t even given it a second thought.

You wanted to blame yourself for not being more careful.

Then again, he’d tricked you. Knowingly come into your home. Set the apple out. And waited.

And you, in your supreme dumbassery, hadn't even thought to check before eating the food that normally lived on the counter. After all, why would you?

It was the perfect setup. You wondered if he'd been planning it, or if it had been on a whim.

“So what now then?” You demanded, your pitch raising as you spoke. You sighed and tried to lower your voice, painfully aware that it was still early yet. “I suppose I have to come back with you to… faeland. Or whatever.”

“The fae realm,” he said exasperatedly with an eye roll that would give your grandmother a run for her money.

“Yeah, I’m gonna call it faeland,” you huffed. “Deal with it.”

“You still haven’t told me your name,” he said, now with a soft smile, and you weren’t sure if this was another trick.

You told him your first name only, and his grin grew wider.

“See, was that so hard?”

“Well gee,” you gestured to the bracelet on your wrist. “I don’t fucking suppose it matters anyway, but yes, actually, since you asked.”

“To answer your question, I would very much like you to go back with me,” Wumuti said, his tone now ever so slightly clipped. “However…”

“However what?! What now?”

“I have to have your consent,” he said, voice dropping low and deathly serious.

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

Loudly.

Trogdor, who had been sitting on your feet, hissed and bolted from the room.

“I have to say,” you said between giggles, “I did not see that coming. Okay... well then. No.”

“Huh?” Wumuti blinked, obviously confused.

“No. I’m not going. I like it here. This is my home. You came in uninvited, tricked me, trapped me into this… soul bond, or whatever it is, and now you also want me to go back to faeland with you? Hard pass.”

“But I can’t…” Wumuti began. “We can’t… We’re…”

“I’d ask if the cat got your tongue but it’s clear he’s not keen on this situation either,” you said snidely.

You were done being civil. The anger had boiled over, and you knew in your bones that this was all very real. You could feel it— the bond. Sitting in your heart, of all places, but feeling like the heaviest weight you’d ever felt, and you didn’t want it. You had sworn no one else, after Emery. Not even the king of the fae.

You were, simply put, done with the idea of loving anyone, ever again. Whatever this was, you absolutely did not want it, and it was almost painful to know that you were stuck with it.

Not even the universe could talk you into this one. You wouldn’t let it.

“So I guess you’re stuck here then?” You continued. “That’s what I’m getting out of your muttering.”

“Yes,” Wumuti said, his own irritation bubbling to the surface now. “If you won’t go, then yes. I’ll have no choice but to remain here with you.”

“Can you really not go back without me?” You sighed.

“No. Not really. Not for any length of time that would matter to you, anyway.”

“What would happen if you did?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a soft sigh. "I'm afraid to try. It could harm both of us."

“Well. Sucks to be us then, I guess,” you said with a heavy sigh. You glanced around the apartment, taking a mental note of everything you’d need to buy to make this sudden new arrangement even close to tolerable.

Hell, I bet all he came with is the clothes he’s wearing and that stupid fucking apple. RIP my savings accounts. I wonder if he can go back long enough to get some stuff. Probably not. Wouldn’t that be too easy?

“You can sleep on the couch. It turns into a bed,” you told Wumuti as you got up, crossing back into the kitchen to get a glass of ice water. Sadly, the cold did not shock you back to any kind of reality where Wumuti was still not sitting on the floor in your living room. “My bedroom is absolutely, one hundred percent off limits. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

Traps me by the damn soul but respects my personal space. What the entire…

“I’m going to get ready and go out and get some stuff,” you said. “You are to stay here. You are not to touch anything in here in the kitchen. I don’t need you pulling a Trogdor and trying to burn my apartment down.”

“Trogdor?” Wumuti wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“It’s my cat’s name,” you told him flatly. “Also? You’re gonna have to get a job. If you’re going to live here, you’ll have to contribute.”

“But I’ve never been to Earth!” Wumuti rose to his feet, protesting loudly. “How do you expect me to—”

“Shush! It’s 6am,” you admonished him. “Well. Almost 7. Whatever. Either way, you’ve ruined my Saturday. Congrats.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m not exactly having the best time, myself,” Wumuti huffed.

“Good,” you mumbled under your breath. "Join the fucking club."

You excused yourself to your bedroom for a moment to check on the cat and find some clothes that you thought might not be way too big on Wumuti. You’d take his measurements later and order some things, you supposed.

Or take him shopping, which sounded like a special nightmare in itself.

This is so fucking absurd. Why is this happening to me?!

In the meantime, you grabbed a faded t-shirt and a too-small pair of sweats that you’d been hanging on to in the hopes of fitting into them again. They had been your favorite lounge pants at one time.

Absolutely unfair. He already got my soul?! Now I have to share my clothes too. And everything else. What the fuck. I’m so over this already.

You showed him how to work the shower, the sink, and where the cups were, as well as giving an overview of the fridge. When you were satisfied enough to feel at least somewhat safe leaving him alone for a bit, you dipped into the bathroom to get ready yourself, game planning for your day in your head as you scrubbed your skin, knowing he’d touched you to carry you to the couch, already wanting to erase any trace of him.

The bracelet would not come off. You had even tried scissors.

You now needed replacement scissors, as they’d broken when you tried to cut the bracelet.

You breathed in deeply as you exited the apartment, after giving another tutorial on the locks. New York City was bustling around you, the energy outside completely oblivious to what had happened to you in the last two days.

With another sigh, you headed up the street.

Should have listened to Lillian.

Six hours later, you returned to the apartment bearing armfuls of bags. You’d been overly generous in what you’d bought, cursing yourself internally for the caretaker trait that ran so deep you couldn’t contain it.

You supposed it was better this way. The less he had to complain about, the less he would bother you. You were already stuck together in a 500 square foot apartment. You shuddered as you realized you were also going to have to help him learn to navigate the city. The subway. And everything else.

God. He’s going to need papers. An ID. A bank account. Fuck me. How the hell am I gonna do all that?!

You had ordered divider screens for the open doorway of your room, as well as the living room, in a feeble attempt to provide more privacy for both of you. Up until now, the openness of your apartment had been appealing. The size had been perfect.

Now, with the king of the fae sitting on your couch, it felt infinitesimally too small. Too open.

You were putting pillowcases onto the new pillows you’d bought when you received a text from your grandmother.

Lillian [3:06pm]: How’s it going? Did you sleep last night?

You sighed. You knew you were going to have to tell her. She came over often enough that there was no way in hell this was getting past her. You weren’t sure what the rules were about telling other people, not that you had many to tell. But Lillian always heard everything. She had always been your rock.

You [3:07pm]: It’s going. I went shopping today. Just some stuff for the apartment. What’s up?

Lillian [3:08pm]: How about we get that coffee we talked about? Are you free?

You glanced over at Wumuti. You’d turned on the TV just to have some noise and distraction, and he was watching Kitchen Nightmares, so thoroughly entranced that you had to admit it was entertaining. He had showered while you were gone, and was dressed in the clothes you’d provided, blonde hair hanging damp around his bare face. Without the makeup he'd been wearing, he still radiated an unearthly beauty.

Okay brain, that's enough of that.

You [3:09pm]: Sure! 4 work for you?

Lillian [3:09pm]: Sounds great. See you then!

You arrived at the coffee shop with ten minutes to spare, spotting your grandmother easily amid the gaggle of people— her sea-green hair stood out like a beacon. Lillian had always been the sort to march to the beat of her own drum, and she had instilled that in you as you’d grown up.

“Hi there,” she greeted you brightly as you approached the table she’d been guarding. “I got you a cold brew.”

“Bless you,” you said happily, giving her a tight hug before the two of you sat down. You took a sip of the coffee, annoyed for a moment as you remembered that Wumuti was still in your apartment, and hopefully right where you’d left him. You didn’t trust him, not even a little bit, but you had to admit that he had been relatively well behaved, at least today.

Fat chance of that continuing, I’m sure.

“What was that look?” Lillian asked you, knowing that you were terrible at using your inside face. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Oh, just the usual,” you shrugged as you toyed with your coffee cup. “Mostly.”

“New bracelet,” Lillian remarked. “It’s pretty.”

Your expression soured further before you could stop it, and your grandmother was now regarding you with a bemused expression.

“Okay. Something is up.”

“So…” You knew this was going to be comical. “Yeah. I just… Promise you won’t make a huge deal out of it, okay? It’s…”

“Sweetie. Spit it out.”

You also knew out of all the people in this blasted city, Lillian was probably the only one who’d actually believe you.

“You know how…” You sighed. “Uh. You know how you’ve always warned me about… mirrors? At night?”

“Oh my god,” Lillian exclaimed, quickly dropping her tone. “Did you see something?!”

“You could say that,” you said grimly, trying not to laugh at the way your grandmother was sitting now, elbows on the table, chin propped up in her hands.

“Oh, do tell,” she squealed.

“It’s not really as exciting as you’d think,” you sighed. “Quite the opposite actually.”

“Oh, why not?” Lillian asked. “Was it scary?”

“Well,” you began. “You see… I saw a figure on Friday night. I didn’t mean to look, but… I did. It was late and I was tired and I looked. And then I went back and looked again, because I am nothing if not a dumbass,” you added. “And I could see it clearer. Almost see its face.”

“So you saw the same thing twice?” She pursed her lips. “Interesting.”

“It gets worse,” you said in a clipped tone. “I saw him again last night.”

“Him?”

“Uh. Yeah. Him. Or whatever. Apparently he doesn’t care what you call him.”

“Okay, what is going on?” Lillian was now regarding you with a mixture of curiosity and worry.

“When I woke up this morning, the king of the fucking fae was sitting in my living room,” you mumbled.

“Wow, really?!” Lillian clapped her hands in excitement. “Wait. Honey, are you… Are you okay? Are you getting enough sleep?”

“No, I’m actually being extremely real right now,” you sighed. “Deadass, that fucker waltzed in through the mirror. Planted an enchanted apple in the fruit basket in my kitchen. WHICH I THEN ATE A PIECE OF!”

You realized you’d raised your voice a bit, and lowered it again, trying to collect yourself as someone at the table behind yours shot you a nasty glare at the noise.

Across the table, your grandmother was giggling into her napkin.

“I’m glad you find this so amusing,” you huffed. “This is not funny. At all. I got tricked in the worst way possible.”

“So the bracelet…” Lillian said.

“Red thread of fate, is what I’m guessing,” you muttered bitterly. “I tried to cut it off. I had to buy new scissors because they broke. Like. My good fabric scissors. Boom. Snapped like they were made out of cheap wires.”

Lillian was cackling now.

“So let me get this straight,” she tried to get out. “You ignored my superstition all these years. Then looked in the mirror, once on purpose, and now you’re bound by fate to the king of the fae.”

“That about sums it up,” you frowned deeply. “He insists that he didn’t mean to do this. Said he was looking for a friend. A companion, was his exact wording. But this… we’re soul bonded, or whatever. And it can’t be undone.”

“So you’ll be moving soon then, hmm? Back home with him?”

“No,” you said airily. “I refused to go, and he apparently can’t take me without my consent. Which means… I both win and lose, because now he’s stuck here with me.”

“So where is he now?” Lillian asked. “I want to meet him. What’s his name? Did he tell you?”

“You are taking this way too well, and way too much in a way that seems like you’re not entirely on my side,” you laughed. “You actually believe me?”

“Of course I do,” Lillian nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You sighed again. You’d been doing that a lot today.

Oh well.

“The name he gave me was Wumuti,” you told her. “If he’s doing what I instructed, then he should still be at the apartment, watching TV and not fucking around with anything in the kitchen. I had to go out shopping earlier to get him some things, and I swear to god, I’m already over this whole thing.”

“You left the king of the fae in your apartment watching TV?” Lillian was wheezing laughing.

“Kitchen Nightmares,” you nodded. “It was the first thing that popped up on the free TV channels and I wasn’t about to find something else. He’s already making me crazy just by being in my space. And I still have to figure out how to get him an ID, and a bank account, and whatever else, so he can get a job, because I’ll be damned if he’s going to hang around all day every day. I’d have to have myself committed to get away from him.”

You waited patiently for Lillian to calm herself again, which took quite a long time, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. You were glad she believed you, sure.

You were shocked that she believed you no questions asked.

Just honest to god true belief in your epic fantasy novel levels of wackiness.

You also knew you were absolutely never, ever going to live this down. There was a snowball’s chance in hell, probably less.

“Well, I know some people,” she finally said, taking a sip of her coffee. You took a swig of yours as she continued. “Can you take some photos of him in normal clothes for me? I’ll get on that right away. Shouldn’t be more than a week.”

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned that you ‘know people’ who can do all this, or be grateful,” you laughed. “This is so genuinely crazy that I’m still having trouble believing it’s real, myself.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetie. I’ve got you covered. I’ll get him whatever he needs. Sounds like we’ll need an ID, a social… can you get me one of your utility bills? I can have them change the name on it so he has proof of residence.”

“Okay, hold up,” you giggled. “Whose side are you on here, Lillian?”

“Government naming your own grandmother?” She pretended to be shocked. “Well I’ll be.”

“No but, for real,” you said, sticking your tongue out at her.

“I guess…” She pondered for a second, before reaching over to trace the bracelet on your wrist. “I’ve got no choice but to be on the side of fate.”

“Ugh,” you groaned as she picked up her phone with a giggle. “What are you doing now?”

“Changing your contact name to Merida,” she said gleefully. “A spell to change your fate,” she added in a terrible attempt at a Scottish accent.

“I—” You knew your face was bright red now. "That is not funny!"

"On the contrary, it's hilarious," Lillian countered.

“I did warn you,” she said as she set the phone down, and you could see she’d also changed your contact photo. “Why do you think I always cover my mirrors at night?”

Yep. Never living this down. Amazing. Incredible.

An hour or so later, you’d made a list of what you needed to get done so your grandmother could obtain legal documents for your new… roommate. You thanked her profusely, and she waved it away with a laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. My friends owe me a favor anyway. Won’t cost me a dime.”

“I am growing increasingly curious about this whole setup,” you said, eyeing Lillian, who shrugged.

“It’s fine. You let me handle it.” She said firmly, and that was that.

You bid her farewell out on the street, citing a need to run a few more errands before you went home. You supposed you’d go ahead and get him a phone— and wouldn’t that be fun to teach him. You made a mental note of several other things he probably needed, then immediately opened your own phone to jot everything down in a note.

An hour later, you had purchased a brand new smartphone for Wumuti, with a red case, chargers, and so on. You were eternally grateful that you at least had the means to accommodate this entire thing, even if it wound up that he never paid you back. Your peace of mind was worth it, you supposed.

Nevermind that your credit cards were about to be sobbing.

You picked up a pizza to go, and headed back to the apartment.

You arrived home to find Wumuti in the same place you’d left him, completely enthralled at the TV.

“Why is he so mean?” He asked, gesturing to Gordon, who on the screen was telling off a restaurant owner for not having their shit together.

“Think less mean, more like… tough love,” you explained. “It’s the whole premise of the show. These places call him in because they’ve got problems but then don’t want to listen to him when he points out the problems.”

“That seems counterintuitive.”

“One would think,” you shrugged, unloading the bag of goodies from the Apple store onto the coffee table. You grabbed the TV remote and switched over to Spotify, pulling up your big mix playlist, ignoring the grumble of protest from Wumuti.

“Nope. Come on. You gotta learn how to use a smartphone. Settle in.” You took a seat on the couch with him, careful not to sit too closely. “And I brought home dinner.”

“What is this?”

“Pizza. Try it,” you encouraged. “You’re on Earth now. Not sure what you’re used to eating, but I can assure you living in New York that you’ll be branching out quite a bit.”

You caught a whiff of whatever perfume he was wearing, and stopped what you were doing for a moment as the complexity of the scent bowled you over. Wumuti smelled like a freshly cut rose in the snow, in the dead of winter. Beautiful, somehow comforting, sharp yet also inexplicably soft.

“A smart what?” He asked as he took a bite of pizza. You watched as his expression changed, from curiosity to delight. “Hmm. This is… hmm.”

“A smartphone.”

You groaned and shook your head, trying to clear your nostrils and your brain.

Get ahold of yourself. God. So he smells good. Fuck off, brain.

“It’s a device that allows you to contact other people, even if you’re far away,” you explained. “You definitely need one, especially here. If you need to get ahold of me, or call work, or whatever else, this is how you’re going to do it. It could even help you find your way when you get lost— and trust me, I’m sure you’ll get lost a few times before you get the hang of the city. It does a lot more than just that, but we’re going to start with the basics and work our way up from there.”

“You picked red?” Wumuti was staring at the phone and the case.

“I mean,” you said. “Yeah?” It seemed like the logical choice, without asking. Guess I was thinking about your eye… I mean, not that I was… whatever.”

“Having two different eye colors is quite common among the fae,” Wumuti told you. “Not many of us don’t have this, to some degree.”

“Interesting.”

You could tell he was trying hard to win you over, to smooth things out. But you were still relatively upset, so you dismissed whatever feelings of fondness were already trying to creep up into your brain, instead busying yourself with giving the king of the fae a crash course in using an iPhone.

Two hours later, you had successfully taught him how to make calls, add contacts, and navigate the basics. You were impressed he picked it up so quickly, despite his claims that he had never been to Earth before. You taught him how to use the SOS mode to call for help, and added yourself as his emergency contact. Against your better judgement, you also added each other to location services so you could track him if needed. You also added a label for “home” and showed him how to pull up walking directions on his GPS.

Next up was text messaging, which took longer, especially due to the fact that he was only poking at the screen with two fingertips, but you figured the longer he practiced, that he’d get there.

At least, you hoped so, because you did not have the patience for repeating yourself ad nauseam.

Next up, you had to explain your grandmother. Wumuti was more than a little horrified that you’d told someone, but calmed immediately when you assured him that your grandma was the last person who’d ever spread that information around. You skipped the part where she’d been teasing you to no end, and instead focused on the tasks at hand— getting him legal identification so he could pass for human.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, so not much we can do in the way of logistics,” you told him, “but we can still go out shopping. You’re going to need clothes, toiletries, whatever. Makeup, I’m assuming?”

“How are you acquiring all of this?” Wumuti asked quietly.

“I was blessed with a grandma who taught me to manage money, and a job that makes a fair amount for me,” you shrugged. “I would really appreciate it if you could work on paying me back in time, but I know it’ll be a while. Just do what you can, I guess.”

You’re being too soft with him again, your brain chimed in. He’s going to get the wrong idea, think you want him here.

That uncovered a deeper problem in your head.

You had been craving human connection since you’d broken it off with Emery. Emphasis on human, of course, but… here was Wumuti, eyes bright and trained on you as you showed him how to navigate his new electronics, as you talked about getting him set up to live in the city.

No. Stop it. He tricked me. All of this nonsense is because of him… And me not paying attention… But I shouldn’t have had to.

You stopped yourself before your mind wandered into the “why me” territory once more.

“So that’s that for now,” you finished, popping the new phone into the case and handing it to Wumuti. “I have some extra purses and bags if you want to go through those tomorrow, or we can get one for you when we go out tomorrow. Assuming you carry a bag.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. Shopping, remember? You can’t wear the same thing every day, and I kinda want my Sailor Moon shirt back. You can keep the sweatpants, they don’t fit me anymore. Keeping them to begin with was wishful thinking, but at least they kinda fit you.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Thank you.”

You showed him how to work the fold-out couch, and even helped him make the bed, tossing the new pillows his way.

“The divider screens won’t be here until tomorrow,” you informed him. “Please do not come in my room. I put a night light in the bathroom so you'll be able to see.”

“Okay.”

“Another thing, Trogdor tends to wander around at night. Don’t let him bother you. He’s a big boy but if you don’t want him in your space you can just shoo him away.”

“Oh, he’s been quite friendly,” Wumuti said brightly.

“Good. I… kinda had a feeling he’d take to you. Since you’re fae and all. Not to stereotype. But. Yeah.”

“I’ll help take care of him,” Wumuti told you, as Trogdor hopped up onto the fold out, meowing for attention. Wumuti scratched the cat behind the ears, and was met with immediate loud purring.

“Okay. Well, I’m going to wind down and go to bed soon,” you said with a yawn. “If you need something to do, I’d prefer you don’t turn the TV on again because I’ll hear it and I won’t be able to sleep, but there’s a few books down there on the TV stand,” you offered.

You showed him how to use your book light, and left him to his own devices after that with a well-worn copy of Lord of the Rings. You got ready for bed at night speed, and crawled in, pulling the covers up over your head as you curled into a ball, trying to process the events of the day.

This is the most insane thing. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and it’ll all be over. Wouldn’t that be nice?

But as much as you tried to imagine that it hadn’t happened, you knew there was no way it wasn’t real.

And there was no going back now.

You woke bright and early the next morning, tiptoeing out to the kitchen to make coffee. Wumuti was still fast asleep, tangled in the pile of blankets you’d provided. To your surprise, Trogdor was curled up next to him.

That cat is normally so picky. Wow. Guess it really does come with the fae territory. He’s never taken to anyone but me that quickly. What a fucking traitor.

Despite still being thoroughly peeved at Wumuti, you did try to be quiet. As much as you wanted to pick fights, you knew it would only add to your stress. You had no idea how you were going to pull this all off, ultimately.

But you had to try, if for no other reason than maintaining the shreds of your own precious sanity.

Despite your best efforts to stay quiet, Wumuti began to stir as the aroma of the coffee wafted through the small space.

“That smells good,” he mumbled from his blanket nest.

“Do you want some?” You offered before you could stop yourself.

Jeez. If I keep this up he’s going to think I actually like him.

“I think tea, if you have any,” he told you. “I often find coffee too bitter.”

“Well, we have ways of fixing that here, but I can check.”

You rifled through your tiny pantry, and sure enough, you had exactly one box of tea— a gift from your grandmother from when she’d gone on a girls’ trip to Maine the previous fall.

“I have… wild blueberry tea,” you announced. “That’s it. But I need to get groceries too, so we can order more later, I guess.”

“That sounds delicious,” Wumuti told you. “Also… is it okay if I bathe again? Before we leave to go shopping.”

“Yeah, that’s fine, I need to as well. Try not to take too long, don’t use all the hot water,” you warned.

“Is that why it ran cold all of a sudden yesterday? I used it all?”

“Yes,” you sighed, not really wanting to explain the finer points of hot water heaters at 8am. “Just try to be mindful.”

“I will.”

The two of you had not spoken again about what happened. You felt as though he must know better than to bring it up, which was probably wise. You didn’t really feel like expending the energy to blow your top, any more than he probably wanted to be on the receiving end of more of your anger.

You dove back into the “to be donated” bag at the bottom of your closet, coming up with a somewhat plain shirt and skirt combination you hoped might fit him. His build was so slender that you figured you'd have to pin the skirt, but you hoped you could make it work until you got to Macy’s or something, and got clothes that actually fit. You handed them off, and occupied yourself with making breakfast while he was in the shower. Trogdor decided to patrol the area in front of the bathroom, meowing up a storm.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is your new best friend in there?” You asked, somewhat miffed. “You stink.”

The cat meowed back in protest of your insult, going to his food bowl and batting at it forlornly.

“Aha, see, you still remember who feeds you,” you told him as you put another scoop of food in, obscuring the bottom of the bowl once more. “Don’t forget it, either.”

You had a cup of tea waiting when Wumuti got out of the shower, and some eggs and toast. You turned on the TV for him again, feeling almost as though you were trying to entertain a toddler you were babysitting. But hey, if it worked, it worked. He settled in to watch while you got cleaned up and dressed for the day. You opted for shorts and a t-shirt as it was going to be hot again— the summer temperatures had been obscene this year, despite living up north, and you wondered vaguely how the winter would be.

Once you were presentable, and had equipped Wumuti with a bag for his phone and the few other necessities you’d given him— hand sanitizer, a small notebook and pen, a couple portable snack options— you headed out. You made a mental note to stop by a locksmith on the way back home and get a spare key made.

All this work. Lordy. I hope he appreciates it. Wish I could say I appreciated… whatever this is. But no. I was perfectly fine before he came along. Kind of. This is all his fault anyway. I didn’t ask for this.

“Do not wander off,” you told Wumuti sternly. “Like. I know you have a phone, blah blah blah. But you need to stay with me, okay? We have all day, so if there’s something you want or need, just tell me. Don’t go off trying to find it yourself. Even in the stores. Got it?”

“No wandering off,” he promised solemnly. “Trust me, I don’t want to get lost,” he said, looking around with a bewildered expression.

“No, I can assure you that you don’t.”

“Is this place always this overwhelming?” He asked, and you could hear worry in his voice.

“It can be,” you told him. “Which is why you need to stick by me at all times until you’re better acclimated.”

You opted to take the subway to a department store that was just a tiny bit further away, just so you could start getting Wumuti used to actually using the subway. You had to shake him off your arm more than once, and you couldn’t help but feel some smug sense of satisfaction at his seeming fear of the bustling city.

You could only imagine that wherever he was from, it was nothing like this.

Serves him right for tricking me, I guess.

When you reached the store, you led him throughout both the men’s and women’s departments, helping him choose a couple weeks’ worth of clothes, and waiting… a little less than patiently… while he tried everything on. He seemed excited, presumably, at this new sort of adventure. You almost wished you could say the same as you forked over your credit card at the register.

You only nearly lost Wumuti once, in the cosmetics section, and you were quick to haul him back.

“Not here,” you said in a whisper. “We can get you some makeup, but let’s go somewhere else. They’re too pushy here.”

“I noticed,” he said as you shooed him back out onto the street, both of you with armfuls of bags. “Why do they do that?”

“They have a quota to meet, no doubt,” you shrugged. “Don’t ask me, I’ve never worked retail. Speaking of which, do you think you know what you’d want to do?” You asked him as you steered him around the corner towards the nearest Sephora, where you were greeted by a cheerful redhead with a wide smile.

“Hi, welcome in! I’m Haru,” he said brightly. “What can I help you find?”

You looked to Wumuti, who was staring in shock— presumably at the fact that the sales associate standing in front of you also had heterochromia. His right eye was a rich yellow, a sharp contrast to the other’s deep brown.

You had an idea of what might be on Wumuti’s mind. But to you, Haru seemed like a pretty normal young adult, save for his obvious genetic differences.

“It’s the eye, isn’t it?” Haru laughed. “It’s okay. I get this all the time. My whole family has this gene. I’ve taught all my friends not to say a word in front of my mother, because she’s a geneticist and she will absolutely whip out a notebook and start in on Punnett squares with you.”

“That’s hilarious,” you laughed. “No, this is my roommate, Wumuti,” you introduced him, snatching your arm away from him once more. “He just moved here, and we’re trying to get him set up and feel at home. So probably just some basic stuff? Makeup, skin care, what have you.”

“You got it, I can help with that,” Haru grinned again. He had a mischievous smile, as though he held secrets on secrets deep down in his heart. You liked him immediately. You’d seen him here on occasion, but had never spoken with him before.

Wumuti was still glued to the floor.

“Did… is your friend okay?” Haru asked you quietly.

“First time in New York City,” you shrugged. “Hey, are you guys hiring by any chance?”

“We are, actually!” Haru said enthusiastically. “Job applications are online, but I can grab you a paper copy too if you want. They’ll accept either, but they definitely prefer online.”

“That’d be great.”

You wandered the store for a bit as Haru led Wumuti around, picking out products for him. After dropping another chunk of change, you both bid Haru farewell, with Haru sending well wishes and telling Wumuti he hoped to see him again soon.

“He was sweet,” you told Wumuti. “If you got hired there you’d already know someone.”

“You think I could handle working there?” Wumuti asked dubiously. “There were so many people.”

“You gotta work somewhere,” you reminded him. “Now… let’s get back to the apartment, those screens I ordered should be delivered later, and I’d like to be there for that.”

The evening passed in relative silence. You had set up the privacy screens, and then retired to your room to work on a few things in advance of a meeting you had the next morning. Your grandmother had come to the door earlier, and you’d handed off what she’d asked for— a couple utility bills, and a few photos of Wumuti. She assured you she’d handle the rest. Once again, she wouldn’t tell you exactly how, but you figured that was probably for the best. It seemed the less you knew, the better.

About a week later, Lillian was back, this time with Wumuti’s papers and IDs. She begged to come inside and meet Wumuti, but you shooed her away, assuring her you would let them meet when it was the right time. She did happen to catch a glimpse of him through the open door, and waved and called out his name, to which he waved back, obviously confused.

The next morning, you dragged Wumuti from bed to take him to the bank, cursing under your breath and praying that everything went smoothly. You hoped that things would go off without a hitch considering none of your documents were real, and to your utter surprise, no one suspected a thing. You left having set up a checking and a savings account for him, and on the way home, stopped into a corner store to show him how to use his debit card, as well as withdraw cash from an ATM. You'd deposited a respectable amount into each account, and cautioned him about keeping close track of it all.

You were shocked that it had all worked, just like that. Then again, all of the documents you'd received did look 100% real. Whoever Lillian had ties with had definitely outdone themselves. You wondered what kind of favor she’d been owed.

You knew there was no way she would ever tell you.

When you arrived home, the actual fun began again— installing the banking app on Wumuti’s phone and teaching him how to use it, then teaching him about the basics of maintaining a bank account. By the end, you felt like you could use a stiff drink, though it wasn’t often that you drank anymore. You were grateful that he at least took notes— that part was unexpected, but welcome.

Somehow, by the grace of all the gods, he was catching on at lightning speed, despite never having seen or used tech like this in his life— which you supposed must have been a very long life, thus far.

He didn’t talk much on the day to day, and you weren’t sure if that was because you weren’t talking, or if that was just him. But he remained cordial for now, so there was that. You were sure he could still pick up on your displeasure, though if you were being real with yourself, you were kind of enjoying the quiet company.

But only kind of.

It was annoying to share the bathroom, and even more so to share the small space together. You had, at least, finally taken the donation bags to a local charity shop, and cleaned out the small closet next to the bathroom for Wumuti. You moved what little was left into your bedroom closet. Part of you felt like it might be prudent to find a bigger place, considering.

The rest of you was much, much too stubborn for that. Maybe, if you were lucky, Wumuti would give up, find a way to break the bond, and take off.

The rest of you knew this was beyond wishful thinking.

If you were being real with yourself, you knew Wumuti was here to stay.

A few days after your banking escapades, you woke from a fitful sleep, trying to make sense of what you had dreamed. It had been so real— if you hadn’t known for a fact otherwise, you could have sworn perhaps you’d been transported on some astral plane.

It wasn’t like you to have lucid dreams like that, and you were extremely bewildered.

In the dream, you had seen Wumuti, or at least, what you gathered was a younger version of him, sitting on the edge of a small stream, out in the seeming middle of nowhere. Seated across from him was a slim figure of similarly otherworldly beauty— fair skinned, with rich brown curls cascading down their back and around their delicate features. The late afternoon sun glinted in their eyes, one a startling green. You watched as they exchanged words with Wumuti, who threw his head back, laughing from deep in his belly, eyes closed and crinkled up in the pure joy of the moment. Fall leaves drifted lazily around them as they were seated on a soft blanket, the remnants of a picnic long forgotten next to them.

It had been as if you were watching a movie, and try as you might, you couldn’t get any closer, couldn’t see more than what your brain wanted to show you.

But the real kicker was, how had you dreamed this at all? You had sworn you saw another figure, the dark-haired fae, perhaps, on the fringes of your perception, right before the scene had begun to play. You watched as the two of them shared a tender kiss, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks flushing with embarrassment, even in the midst of the dream.

You had awoken with chest heaving, scaring Trogdor off the bed as you scrabbled at the sheets, trying to ground yourself in reality. You clutched your own chest, spreading your palm over your heart, closing your eyes and trying to take deep breaths as you brought yourself back to real life.

Okay, what the fuck was that?

You could hear stirring in the other room, and ignored it, instead crossing to your desk to check your emails. Finding nothing of pressing importance— then again, it was 5am— you made your way to the kitchen to make some coffee.

Your jaw dropped when you opened the fridge. Every single shelf had been rearranged, in a way that made zero sense. Leftover containers in the cheese drawer, blocks of cheese in the door, condiment jars scattered throughout. It was an absolute mess.

You took a deep, measured breath, and let it out slowly. Behind you came furtive giggling from under the covers on the couch.

“You think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you, Wumuti?” You asked. “This… I… what the fuck.”

“You should give me credit,” he huffed as he uncovered his face and peeked out at you. “As fae pranks go, this one was relatively harmless.”

“Harmless? I have a meeting in an hour and a half with clients in Japan. I do not have time to… you know what? You need a day out of the house,” you said matter-of-factly. “Get up. Get ready to go out. Now.”

You weren't going to lie, you were relishing the horror on his face at your words.

“You heard me. Up and at ‘em. You have three tasks today. You need to explore the city. You need to learn to use the subway by yourself. And you need to take that application back to Sephora and ask for an interview. You can call me if you get absolutely lost. Otherwise, you’re on your own today. It’s high time you got out there and started learning in real time.”

“By myself?” He asked, and you could hear the nervousness in his voice. "All alone?"

“By yourself. I’m not going to be there to escort you to work every day,” you said, not even bothering to hide your irritation. “You’re the one who chose to come here, to trick me into… whatever this bond is. Between this and the creeping in my dreams? Which was unappreciated, by the way,” you added, ignoring the confused expression you were now receiving. “Like. Cute memories and all, sure, but can you go be the Scarlet Witch somewhere else? Thanks.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grumbled as he got up and began to put the sofa back together. “I don’t even know how to dreamwalk.”

“A likely story. Now hurry up. And do not use all the hot water, or I’m changing the locks after you leave.”

“Fine,” he spat. “Have it your way.”

“I usually do,” you replied cooly.

Once Wumuti had gotten ready, dressed, and had excused himself for the day, you felt you could finally breathe a sigh of relief for the first time in a while. You took a quick aside to hop into the aforementioned meeting, with a new client who was looking to expand their business into the US and wanted help setting up a more user-friendly interface for their international clients. Once that was done, you took your time rearranging the fridge, putting everything back in its place.

You nearly screamed when you went into the bathroom, for Wumuti had done the same exact thing with the shower.

Wonder if the fae can die, because I sure am going to kill him before this is all over. What a little shit!

By the time you’d fixed all of his meddling, it was pushing 10am, and you were already exhausted. You decided to take the rest of the day off, and spent it camped in front of the TV with Trogdor, watching old YouTube videos.

In the back of your head, you were plotting ways to get back at Wumuti. You had never been one for pranks, and you knew you’d really have to bring your A-game against a fae creature. You thought about texting your grandmother, but decided against it, knowing she’d just tease you to no end.

Not that Lillian hadn’t been teasing you anyway. But it was a nice thought. The last thing you needed was to read the words 'lovers' quarrel' again from her.

After a few hours of videos, even Trogdor was making you a little crazy, yowling and pacing in front of the front door.

“Oh, do you miss your friend, mister Traitor Trogdor?” You rolled your eyes. “Tell you what. Do you want your ping-pong ball?”

You grabbed aforementioned ball from its hiding place, and Trogdor perked up at once. He followed you to the bathroom, where you tossed the ball into the tub. The cat hopped in quickly, and set to batting the ball around as if it were his mortal enemy. Satisfied, and knowing this would occupy his single brain cell for a while, you moved to your bedroom, laying down and shutting your eyes for just a few.

You slipped into a dream space quickly, but this time your focus was seemingly the point of view of another person— nimble hands rifling through pages of what looked like a spell book. You watched as they ripped a page from said book, replacing it with another and tracing one slender finger down the ripped edges, sealing them as if there had never been a tear at all.

“Rui!”

You heard Wumuti’s voice behind you, and your view changed as the person spun.

“Yes, brother?”

“What are you doing in here?”

“Nothing,” the fae called Rui simpered. “I was just looking for a potion recipe.”

“In my personal library.”

“Come on brother,” Rui said sweetly. “You and I both know that of the two of us, you’re the most adept at brewing potions. I'm just here to sample your expertise.”

“Mmhmm. Regardless, please leave,” Wumuti said in a clipped tone. “I told you that my room was off limits. I've told you many times, for that matter. And you never listen."

“And what are you going to do? Tell Father? ‘Oh, boo-hoo, my sister is bothering me again,’ Rui said scathingly. “He’ll never believe you. He never does.”

You caught a glimpse of Rui in a mirror— much like her brother, she was beautiful. Ageless, genderless. Both of them were the epitome of elegance and loveliness. Rui’s hair was pink, short and curly, and you’d been through enough spats with mean girls at school to know that anyone who acted and looked like her was probably up to no good. You were suddenly detached from her point of view, and watched as she sidled out of the room, followed by Wumuti.

When you looked back to the book, still open on the table to your right, you were startled to see the words written on the page that was replaced.

It wasn’t Wumuti’s fault. — N

You woke again, gasping for air, just in time to hear the click of the front door closing.

“I’m home,” Wumuti called, putting a sing-song emphasis on ‘home’ that made you irritated all over again.

You marched out to the living room, finding Trogdor now chasing the ping-pong ball around the living room. You scooped it up as he passed, earning a hiss and an angry meow.

“I think that’s quite enough for today, sir,” you admonished the cat. You glanced at the clock, shocked to see it was now half past two.

How long was I asleep? Holy shit.

Wumuti was holding a takeout sack of food, and bearing an exceptionally smug grin. You recognized the logo on the bag as being from the Thai place on the corner.

“So, you made it,” you remarked, rolling your eyes.

“I did. Impressed?”

“Surprised. Did you do what I asked?”

“I did. Haru was at the shop. They hired me. I’m to start next Monday,” he told you.

“Thank god,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“I brought home food too,” he told you, and now you could hear pride in his voice. You had to admit, you were exceptionally surprised that he had survived the day on his own, and especially so that he’d managed to not only order food, but pay for it successfully.

“I think I’ve had enough food shared by you,” you said with a sour face. "But thanks."

“Does it really matter anymore?” He asked slyly.

“That’s… that’s not the point,” you sighed heavily. “Also, way to rub it in. Also also, you rearranged the shower too? Really? Are you just looking for ways to irk me?”

“Not necessarily. But it is amusing, seeing you get so upset over it. I assume you fixed it?”

“I did. And the fridge. And if you do that again, so help me god, I will kick you out for real,” you threatened. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You could just come back—”

“No,” you said vehemently, interrupting what you knew he was going to say. “Absolutely not.”

“Well then, I guess we’re stuck like this, since you’re so stubborn,” he simpered.

“I’m the stubborn one. Okay, sure. You’re the one who came here to begin with and trapped me in a soul bond. Heaven forbid I advocate for myself.”

“All I’m saying is, there’s an easy way out,” Wumuti said as he began to unload the contents of his takeout bag onto the counter.

“Look, just stay out of my head, and we can call it even,” you sighed, your frustration changing to mild alarm as the takeout boxes kept coming. “Uh. How much food did you buy?”

“They had a lot to choose from,” he said, as though that justified the six entrees now stacked in front of him. “I’ll eat it all, don’t worry.”

“You had better. And don’t give any to Trogdor, he’ll have the shits for a week.”

You’d had enough, and retreated to your room, putting your headphones on and pulling out some pencils and a coloring book. You tried to busy your brain, but the dreams you’d had kept creeping back into your head.

Maybe… maybe this is the last step in my going crazy, you wondered.

But one thing bothered you more than anything else. Wumuti claimed he couldn’t dreamwalk, and for some reason, you were inclined to believe him.

That just left one very vital question: who the hell was N?

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