Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 32

**KACIA**

I’ve been going over it again and again, and for the life of me, I cannot work out what the hell just happened. Oz has been flirting with me from the moment we met. Not subtle flirting either. Full, shameless, grinning like he knows he’s dangerous to my sanity flirting. That damn smirk, those ridiculous winks, the way his tail does half the talking when he’s being cheeky. And today? Today he was downright sweet. Embarrassingly sweet. He made me breakfast. In bed! He cleaned my car, for goodness sake. Then he took on a literal basilisk to protect me, carried me through town like a romance novel cover come to life, and he stayed by my side while I could barely move, let alone fight. He looked after me  while I was totally helpless without making it feel like pity, just steady, quiet care. And now, after all that, when we were walking… Well, I was sort of limping and clinging to him, he just swept me up into his arms like it was nothing. Like it was natural. And it FELT natural. He felt warm, and strong, and annoyingly safe. And I remembered what he said earlier, when I asked for a hand and he replied, ‘hand, arm, leg… I’ll give you whatever part of me you like.’ He was teasing, obviously. But he’s always teasing. He’s been practically glued to me from the moment we met, like a very smug, very attractive shadow. It seemed like a sure thing. It really, really did. And I was… Kind of excited. Nervous, yeah, but also confident for once. I NEVER feel like that. Dating’s always been a disaster zone for me, most people can’t handle the secrecy, the weirdness. It’s hard to even like someone when you're constantly wondering if they'll run screaming the second they learn you're half fae. But Oz already knows my secret, so that can’t be it. He’s already in my world. And he’s still here. Still calling me ridiculous pet names and acting like I’m the only thing in the room worth looking at. It felt safe enough to take a risk for once. So I did. I leaned in. Not much, just a little. Just enough to say I’m here, I want this, do you want it too? And he leaned in too. His breath brushed mine, and I knew, I KNEW he was going to kiss me. Our lips even touched! And then he just… Stopped. Like someone flipped a switch. From one hundred to zero in the space of a single breath. I don’t get it. Now he’s in my kitchen, making himself a second dinner like nothing happened. Still here. Still helping. When I brought up my plans to go look for Dave, I half expected him to say he had his own stuff to do. That we’d meet up later or even just that he would be heading off and bye in general. But no. He just asked if he could come along. But he’s not acting like himself. Or at least not like the version of him I’ve known so far. He’s not flirting anymore. Not touching. Not calling me ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ or ‘heartbreaker’ or whatever ridiculous name he was onto last. It’s like someone reached inside and flipped his Oz switch to sad and quiet mode. So what gives? Was it me? Was I reading it wrong? Was he never really going to kiss me and I just… Imagined it? Shit, I hope not. Because if I leaned in thinking we were about to kiss and he wasn’t, then I’ve just made a complete idiot of myself. And I’m not even sure which stings more, my hurt feelings… Or my pride. And the worst part? I LIKE him. I like the version of myself I am around him, bold, sarcastic, braver than usual. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t even mind that he’s been slowly taking over my house. I don’t want to lose him. But I also don’t want to beg for crumbs of affection from someone who doesn’t really want me. So fine… He wants space? I’ll give him space. I’m going to bed. 

I wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. Not in the ‘oops, stayed up too late bingeing murder documentaries again’ kind of way, but in the ‘every cell in my body is vaguely offended by my existence’ kind of way. I’m stiff like I did the world’s hardest workout. My limbs feel like they’re filled with glue. My mouth is dry. My head is pounding. It’s like a hangover, but without the fun part with tequila and more…Paralysis I guess. Great… I squint at the soft morning light bleeding in through the window. Ugh, morning. I can hear noises and smell food so I shuffle toward the kitchen, dragging my blanket with me like a half-dead burrito creature. Then I stop. Because what the actual hell? There, sitting at my kitchen table like this is just another day, are Mikey and Oz. Having breakfast. Together. Like this is normal. And not just toast and coffee. They’ve gone full brunch mode. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, avocado, even a bloody fruit salad. I can smell cinnamon. There’s fresh orange juice. They’ve made real coffee and my brain has decided that none of this is real. They’re both smiling. Laughing. Talking like friends. Since when are they friends? It’s freaking me out! Oz is leaning back comfortably in his chair, tail lazily swaying, his glamour fully in place. Mikey is slouched across from him, grinning like this is the best morning he’s had all week. I feel suddenly self conscious. This is not how I imagined facing Oz after the events of last night. My hair feels like a bird built a nest in it overnight, then set it on fire. I haven’t brushed it. I haven’t washed my face. I haven’t put in my contact lenses, so my eyes are their natural shade of strange fae purple, and I haven’t even bothered to cover my ears yet, I can feel the cool air brushing against the pointed tips. Meanwhile both Oz and Mikey look great, totally put together. It’s just rude. They’ve apparently been up for hours. They’re laughing. Smiling. Chatting like old friends who meet up every week to gossip about mutual acquaintances and swap life updates.

“…So then Clarence hit Tracey in the back of the head with his cane and called it ‘a light suggestion.’” Oz is saying, gesturing with a fork like this is the most entertaining story Mikey’s heard all month.

“Oh damn! I love that guy.” Mikey grins. 

“Remind me to get a cane, they sound useful.” He adds jokingly. And Oz laughs. Like a full, genuine laugh. He looks happy. Relaxed. Like he didn’t emotionally wreck me last night. Asshole. Then Oz spots me. His expression lights up as he smiles. 

“Morning, precious.” He says smoothly, his tone syrupy and affectionate, like last night never happened. 

“We didn’t want to wake you. Come take a seat, we saved you some food.” He prompts me, gesturing at the seat beside him. My brain short circuits. I blink. Oz is smiling. Using that warm, teasing voice again. The one that always makes me feel like I’m seconds from trouble. And Mikey, my dearest, nosiest, traitorous best friend, just waves at me like this is normal.

“Hey, sunshine. You look like hell.” He greets me cheerfully. 

“Thanks.” I croak, flattening my bird’s nest hair with one hand. I shuffle forward a few steps, trying not to trip on my blanket. 

“What is this? Some kind of alternate dimension?” I demand. Oz chuckles again and slides a plate toward the empty seat beside him.

“We thought we’d let you sleep in while we restocked your fridge. Then you were still out cold when we got back so we let you rest. You had a tough day yesterday.” He shrugs, as if casually grocery shopping with my best friend is totally standard demon behaviour. I slowly lower myself into the chair, eyes narrowed. 

“You went shopping?” I ask. 

“And made breakfast.” Mikey adds proudly. 

“Team effort.” Oz chimes in. 

“What the hell were you two talking about while I was asleep?” I ask suspiciously.

“Oh, just everything.” Oz says airily. For a second, I think he means the almost kiss, then I realise that’s an insane thought. 

“You, Dave, the drainers, Angelo, that time you nearly punched a banshee in the teeth…” Oz trails off with a smirk.

“That was self defence!” I protest. Mikey snorts. 

“You yelled at it for being ‘dramatic and loud’.” He argues. 

“It was! It shrieked because I scuffed its shoes! And a banshee scream can do actual damage to your eardrums.” I insist. 

“You tipped literal acid on them.” Mikey corrects, and Oz snorts into his coffee. I groan and rest my head against the table. So this is my life now. My demon almost kissed me, then emotionally withdrew, and is now hanging out with my best friend like they’ve been co-parenting me for years. All while I’m sitting here in a blanket, with hair that could get me arrested for public endangerment. Alternate dimension. That’s the only explanation. And the worst part? Despite everything, despite the awkward silence last night, the ache in my chest, the confusion, I still feel my heart lurch a little when Oz calls me precious. Damn him.