I snort. An actual snort, which shocks me more than it does him. “Careful, you’re about to insult me,” I say, followed by a large gulp from my glass. “But, no. No throne.”
Seby chooses that exact moment to hop onto the back of the couch, tail flickering with judgment like he agrees this is a ridiculous line of questioning.
Levi narrows his eyes, unconvinced. “You’re telling me you ruled the underworld,” he whispers, protecting my secret from…the broom closet? “…and didn’t have some sort of dramatic seating arrangement? Seems very off brand if you ask me.”
I roll my eyes, setting my glass down. “If it helps, I once had a very imposing desk chair.”
“See? That counts.” He grins, victorious, and I feel it in my bones.
It’s been hours since I told him the truth, which should’ve sent him running. But he’s still here, cross-legged, face lit by my lamp.
We move from the couch to the kitchen after a while because Levi insists he’s “snack-adjacent” hungry, whatever that means. I watch as he rummages through my embarrassingly bare cabinets.
“Do you live here or is this a set you rent by the hour?” he teases, holding up a can of soup like evidence.
“I live here,” I reply. “I simply don’t make a habit of stockpiling snacks like an apocalypse is imminent. Especially when it’s just me.”
“Well, remind me to find another doomsday buddy, becausethisisn’t going to cut it, my friend,” he mutters, shaking his head like I’ve personally disappointed him.
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching him. My kitchen isn’t big. Nothing in this apartment really is. But the way Levi moves makes it feel like there’s more space.
He expands the room by existing, as if I’ve been rationing air and he didn’t get the memo.
Eventually, we settle on popcorn, which feels hilariously mundane given the wholegodrevelation. Levi insists on adding a concerning amount of butter while I pretend not to be invested in the process. We migrate back to the living room, snack bowl in hand, and somehow end up sitting closer this time. Our thighs find each other, a quiet, unspoken kind of closeness that could be brushed off if either of us moved. But neither of us does. The heat of him soaks into me, and suddenly I’m aware of every inch of space I’mnotfilling. Seby wedges himself between us for exactly two seconds, then abandons the attempt with a huff, as if even he can’t get between this.
Our hands brush in the bowl. He murmurs an exaggerated “Excuse you,” like I’m the one crowding space, and I answer with a deliberate nudge. But my hand lingers, and he doesn’t pull away. “Okay,” he says, popping a kernel into his mouth, “tell me about the shadow thing.”
I glance at him. “The shadowthing?”
“You know. The flickery, not-quite-normal darkness that follows you around like a moody puppy.”
I bark out a laugh at his observation. “Moody puppy. That’s new.”
“Well?” he prompts, nudging my leg with his knee. I feel my shadows stir, as if they’ve been on standby for their cue.
I hesitate, staring into my glass for a moment before answering. “Residueis a lazy word. Think reflex, echoes of what I used to be. Like muscle memory for powers I don’t fully have. But they’re also a warning system. Sometimes they react before I do. Sometimes they’re just shadows. And others…” I trail off, debating how much to say.
“Others what?” he presses, his voice more serious now.
I sigh. “Sometimes they pull back the curtain and spirits step through.”
Levi freezes, mid-chew. “Spirits?”
“Yes.”
He swallows, eyes wide. “Like…Haley Joel Osment level of dead?”
“Well, yes. That’s typically the criterion.”
Levi glares, unamused. “No need for sass,Hades.”
I chuckle at his use of my formal name. “It’s not like that. They’re not always around. Just…occasionally. They linger. Some are confused; some are stubborn. And some just like the company, even if momentarily.”
“So that’s how you knew about the daisies? A spirit, not a hunch?”
I nod and watch his mouth go slack.
His disbelief softens into wonder instead of fear, a mercy I’m not sure I deserve, then he glances around my apartment like he’s expecting a ghost to materialize in the corner. “Is there one here right now?”
