Chapter Text
Till the matters of the evening had transpired, Misa had been enjoying a perfectly tranquil and lazy weekend curled up on her sofa in the mellow afternoon sunshine. She watched the neighbours wearily drag their hyperactive litter out of the car, and the lights in the house across the street come alive as the late evening fog settled over their little street.
The main street was just five minutes away, and she could feel the distant thrum of activity pick up as the sun disappeared from the horizon. A gaggle of young witches sauntered down the street and made their way to the chandlery downstairs. She watched as they exited the store some time later, dainty parcels held close. As she caught sight of the telltale pink bow on a few, she chuckled with amusement and wished luck for its unsuspecting recipients.
She idly wondered if one of the kittens would be visiting her soon. In that case, she’d have to check if she had treats ready for them.
The lights blinked on in the various houses and stores cramped together in their narrow street, lighting the road in bright, multicoloured lights. Misa caught sight of two pixies flying past her window as she watered her plants, chattering animatedly as they headed for a party (judging by their appearance), trailing sparkling faerie dust in their wake. She gazed after them, admiring their gorgeous silver hair slicked up stylishly and their iridiscent wings flashing brightly in the night.
Misa walked around her loft tidying the floor that was littered with pillows and fallen leaves, while her favourite show ran in the background.
The wind stirred, slipping through the open window. It washed her senses with the earthy scent of green things growing quietly and the storm that was brewing steadily on the horizon.
She walked upto the window, her breath slow and deep in the soothing hush. A little vine swayed forward and tickled her cheek. She laughed and caressed it softly, before turning back to look at the sky.
“A storm, huh?” she murmured.
The night unravelled grey clouds against star-studded inky blue darkness.
Around eleven, when she was curled up on the sofa reading after a warm bowl of ramen takeout, the sky broke with thunder, and rain poured down with a sudden roar.
She sat up, startled. Raindrops spattered with a vengeance against the long windows next to her.
She dropped her book and hurried to shut the windows around the loft.
As she locked the last window in the kitchenette, she noticed the trash that she had forgotten to throw out leaning against the counter.
She groaned and thumped her head against the cabinet. The little thyme plant on the windowsill stirred anxiously, and she patted it with a sigh.
“Stupid dumbass,” she muttered at herself.
If the trash was left till morning, she was sure the stink would be too much for her by the morning.
Misa picked up the bag, and snatched her umbrella on the way as she dragged herself out of the door unhappily. I had all afternoon to do it! Why did I have to wait till it started pouring like crazy??
The dingy elevator chirped and opened its doors.
Her nose scrunched at the overpowering mixture of sharp scents that hit her when she stepped in. Ambrosia, the owner of the Ambrosia chandlery downstairs was a sweetheart, but one could sense her a mile away because of the suffocating cloud of scents that followed her wherever she went.
The lift moved at a turtle’s pace, humming merrily. The smell of overripe bananas from the bag mixing with the perfume was starting to give her a headache.
The growl of thunder shook the flimsy box and Misa clutched the bag tightly.
Nuh-uh. That is not a cool way to die.
Finally, the elevator thumped to a stop with a sad ding. If she didn’t know better, Misa would say Ambrosia had charmed the darned thing.
She stepped out onto the porch, being careful not to slip on the wet tiles as she wrestled the umbrella open. Next to her, the store was dark save for the bright lettering near the wall spelling “A-M-B-R-O-S-I-A”. Tall shapes of candles and the glinting metal of soapboxes and incense tins stood sentry by the display window.
The tightness in her shoulders disappeared at the soothing drum of the rain on the umbrella drowned everything out. She shuffled around puddles and made her way behind the building towards a small alleyway.
From there, she could see that the lights on the first and second floors were dark. The older couple who lived on the first floor usually turned in early, which just left Ambrosia who lived on the floor right below her loft. The witch was probably out since it was a weekend night.
Misa winced at the nagging inner voice that reminded her that she should probably get a life.
But I am happy the way I am right now. The nagging voice sneered.
Tuning out toxic inner voices, Misa heaved the bag into the trashbin at the end of the alleyway. After making sure the lid was shut, she uneasily looked around the dark walls. Her heart was pounding out of nowhere.
Weird.
She huffed at herself. Don’t be a baby, Misa.
Nevertheless, she started to hurry out of the barely lit alley.
Just as her feet left the mouth of the alley and stepped into the warm glow of the streetlight, the sky split with blinding light. For a few moments, her vision was awash with white as a furious purple-blue danced around the corner of her eyelids. The ground trembled and the umbrella dropped from her weak grasp.
There was a muffled thud somewhere to her right.
When her vision cleared, she found herself standing in the same spot, her fingers trembling from the cold and shock, and her heart hammering in her throat. Gathering herself with a shaken exhale, she looked around for her umbrella, feeling more than a little freaked out. The storm must have blown it away while whatever that craziness was just now was happening.
She turned around and froze.
There was a body sprawled on the ground near her.
No, no, no, no.
In hindsight, maybe running towards a man who had appeared out of nowhere behind you in a dark alleyway was just ridiculously stupid.
She collapsed on her knees next to him on the wet gravel. Guessing he was probably injured from the awkward way his limbs were twisted, she gingerly turned him around, letting his head fall gently to her lap.
Dark blonde hair stuck to his face. The side of his face was covered in blood, from a nasty gash above his left temple. She scanned his torso and found his pale grey dress shirt ripped down the side and drenched in red.
Please, please, please don’t die on me. I don’t wanna go to jail framed for murder, she wailed inwardly.
“Hey,” she tapped his cheek. His skin was cold. “Wake up, I am gunna call for help, ok?”
She slightly lifted up from the ground to pull her phone out of her back pocket.
The man groaned, his leg jerking as his face scrunched tightly.
His eyes shot open. A hypnotic gaze caught hers, deep like midnight with swirls of electric blue, against her own dark brown ones. The rain washed over both of them, dripping down the angles of her face onto his as she stared frozen. Something inside her twisted, and she exhaled, willing the strange pain to subside.
“Hey,” he smiled.
He freaking smiled.
Maybe I should tell him he is dying?
A very underhanded move too, she decided, since even bleeding to death, he looked unreasonably gorgeous.
“Hey,” Misa replied awkwardly, trying to push thoughts of his pretty face out of her mind.
The man was dying for goodness sake!
She dragged her gaze to the phone clasped in her hand, so she could call for help.
A hand caught hers tightly. She looked down at him warily.
“Don’t call anyone,” he murmured searching her eyes. Before she could protest, his eyes closed and his body went limp.
How very obliging.
“Hey, hey—no!” Wasn’t there something about not letting people with head injuries sleep?
Based on his sharp gaze and torn shirt, Misa guessed he was probably on the run from something.
Is that why he told me not to call anyone?
The rain poured down harder with each second as she tried to get her thoughts in order.
If I can’t call anyone, then what am I supposed to do? Leave him here?!
She sighed and looked at the idiot (anyone who fought in a dress shirt was an idiot) who had dropped down out of nowhere.
He can’t possibly know who I am right? She anxiously gazed around the street.
In the last three years since she had moved into her loft, she had been careful to make sure that nobody except Ambrosia even knew her name. Bringing him into her home would definitely spell trouble.
She pressed her lips and looked down at him.
Most wood spirits were infamously generous, but being what she was, her nature rebelled against her leaving the bleeding stranger to his fate. Who was probably—no, definitely—dangerous, if that one second of eye-contact was anything to go by.
A sly voice inside irreverently pointed out that it’d be a shame to leave such a gorgeous face to die in the rain.
The hand gripping hers was cold. Too cold.
The ache tugged at her heart again.
Fine. Fine! I can figure this out.
She gritted her teeth and dragged his arm around her shoulder, before lugging him up.
Get a life. Right.