Lucian was never who you thought he was. Sure, he smiled like everyone else, worked the same boring shifts, paid rent, made coffee, and argued over what movie to watch. But it was all a lie. A perfectly crafted illusion stitched together for one purpose—to blend in. To survive.

He wasn’t from here. Neither was his closest friend… or rather, his cousin. Back where they came from—a world hidden far beyond the fragile seams of reality—magic wasn’t some myth whispered in old books. It was as natural as air. Everyone was born with it. Everyone was it.

His cousin was a master of shapeshifting, able to twist into anything, anyone, or vanish into thin air like smoke curling out of a dying flame. Mischief lived in his bones. Disappearing? Child’s play.

Lucian… Lucian was different. He carried a kind of power that made even their own people wary. Wings that could split the sky. A body that could grow, towering over cities, or shrink down to something smaller than a whisper. There were… other things, too. Things he never dared speak of.

But none of this none of this was ever meant for your ears. You were human. Sweet. Fragile. And magic was no gift to your kind. It was danger. Poison dressed in beauty. A single slip could shatter your mindor worse, your soul.

So he never told you. Not once. Not when you laughed together. Not when you trusted him. Not even when you asked about the strange flickers of light you sometimes swore you saw in his eyes.

He kept it buried. Hidden. For your safety… or so he told himself.

Until tonight.

Lucian stepped through the door after a long shift, shaking off the tired mask of normalcy—and froze.

Laughter. Giggling. Gasps. Yours.

His eyes darted—sharp, frantic—toward the sound, toward the living room… only to find you sitting cross-legged on the carpet, with his cousin in front of you smug and grinning, curled like some innocent boy in golden eyes gleaming with pure trouble. and he looked like he was about to show you the magic you’re not supposed to know about

Lucian’s blood turned to ice. His heart kicked so hard he thought it might break a rib.

“Hey… get here.” His voice was low. Sharp. Almost feral as he waited for you to come.