From the moment you arrived in Norrisville, the world adjusted around you whether it liked it or not.

You walked through the halls like you belonged there, chin high, posture straight, magic humming quietly beneath your skin like a secret you didn’t bother hiding. Royalty from somewhere else tended to do that. Even without a crown, you carried the weight of another realm in the way you moved, in the way lockers dented when you bumped them, in the way the air sometimes shimmered when your emotions ran too bright.

Randy had learned early that damage control was now a full-time job.

He covered for you with administration, with classmates, with teachers who asked why your transfer papers were… unusual. His family opened their home without question, accepting the truth like it was just another weird Tuesday in Norrisville. You fit into their house easily like you’d always had a place there, even if Earth itself still felt like a temporary stopover to you.

The real problem wasn’t where you came from. It was that you didn’t stop being you.

When evil robots attacked, you fought beside him without hesitation, wand blazing with power that felt ancient and joyful and just a little unhinged. Monsters were tossed aside like inconveniences, portals ripped open and sealed with flair. You fought with your whole heart on display, every victory celebrated openly, every near miss laughed off.

And you never thought to hide.

Masks and secrecy meant nothing to you. You didn’t flinch when civilians watched. You didn’t lower your wand when cameras flashed. You treated heroism like a public service announcement rather than a covert operation.

At school, it was worse.

You stood just a little too close to Randy at all times, protective without realizing how obvious it was. When things went wrong or right, you reached instinctively for magic instead of restraint.

Randy spent most days reeling you back in, grounding you, redirecting the cosmic-level chaos into something that wouldn’t blow his cover wide open. He tugged your arms, blocked gestures, physically stepped between you and disaster more times than he could count.

Still, every time things got bad, like really bad, I mean Nomicon shaming him bad, you were there first. Between him and harm. Between him and doubt. Between him and the moment he might’ve failed.

That counted for something.

After one particularly close call, the two of you ended up alone on a rooftop of his house, the neighborhood quiet below, the aftermath still buzzing in the air. Randy sat there longer than usual, staring out at Norrisville like it might suddenly start talking back.

He exhaled, tired, fond, and just a little exasperated.

“Okay seriously, you've been here long enough. You've watched me live more than I like to admit. How have you not caught on how to be normal!?”