Being the clerk of a supermarket is a very normal job.

And Calyn is a very normal young man.

He just sometimes has not-so-normal days. It's nothing that would hold up school, or a relationship, or anything. Mostly.

Assuming anyway that everyone he runs into has eaten enough salt, bay, or holy water lately. Don't ask, you don't want to know. Garlic sometimes also works.

But a supermarket job is easy. Low-effort. All he has to do is stand around and wait for an old guy or two to come in, buy beer, and leave. There's no way it can go wrong.

Right? Right.

Wrong.

It's the night shift. He's been at work two hours now. It's his third day. He was kinda thinking maybe this was it. Maybe it was all fine. At least, until this little shit of a demon decided to wreck the fucking freezers.

"Clean it up. Now. Don't make me anoint you." Calyn glowers at the pathetic little creature. "And you'd better come up with one hell of an excuse for my boss, got it?"

It whimpers some pitiful promises to make everything right (rule one, never trust anything from Over There) and stoops to begin sweeping up the glass.

Calyn sighs and heads back to the register.

Really, he's just a normal guy.

Calyn got a lucky break. The section of freezers the demon smashed was outside the scope of the security cams, and a wobbly old man had come in around the same time they were broken. He told his manager that it had been caused by a stumble. So he narrowly avoided being fired.

Now he unlocks the door to his crappy little apartment and walks in. Right away he knows he's here, because Muffin sits on top of his jogging shoes by the doorway with her fur on end.

He kicks off his work shoes and flips on a light. Somewhere in the living room a shadow-dweller shrieks and scurries behind or under something--most likely his couch. He's told Minaeus to stop wandering into places the light will touch, but will it ever listen to him? Of course not.

He scratches Muffin behind the ears and she relaxes. She meows as if complaining about their visitor. He can sympathize.

He heads into the kitchen and feeds everyone--Muffin, Cocoa, the various eldritch (including his garbage disposal), the small fae who live in his walls, and the lich beneath the fridge. Again, don't ask, you don't want to know. Then Minaeus, whose bowl stays under the couch. Then himself, with a simple cup of instant noodles that taste like actual crap but provide some kind of fuel for his body. Is it good fuel? Absolutely not. Does he have enough money, willpower, or energy to care? Also no.

All the willpower and energy he has left has to go toward dealing with Azareth.

And sure enough, when he walks into his bedroom and turns on the light, the smug bastard is there, sprawled on the bed like he owns it. Calyn hates this guy so much. Of everything he's met from Over There, Azareth is, hands-down, by far, no holds barred, the worst.

"Lyn, my love, you're home!" Azareth grins and sits up on his elbows. "I was beginning to worry."

"No, you weren't. Get off my bed."

Azareth obeys, but not without running his mouth. "Not ready to share a bed? That's alright, my dear, I understand. Many are overwhelmed at the sight of my unearthly beauty."

"I wouldn't sleep next to you if my life depended on it."

"You wound me, darling." Azareth sits on Calyn's desk. Luckily, Calyn keeps it clean, so nothing gets crumpled or squished. "Come now, you missed me. I bet you were bored to tears at that dull supmaracket."

"Supermarket."

"Whatever. Admit it, you missed me."

The words 'bite me' nearly pass his lips, but knowing Azareth, he'd take it seriously. "Not happening. What are you doing here anyway?"

"I can't visit my darling fiancé?"

"Sure, but your fiancé isn't here."

Azareth folds his arms. "Come now, Lyn, don't be like this. When we were kids, you--"

"Should've ditched you then, I agree."

Calyn is way too tired to deal with Azareth. It's like the demon has a sixth sense--he always pops up when Calyn least wants to interact with him.

He grabs some pajamas at random from his dresser. He'll have to wash his clothes soon. Does he even have detergent left? He can't remember.

Azareth hops down from the desk and comes up behind him, peeking over his shoulder. "You got so mean when you grew up. You can't humor me even a little?"

"Right." Calyn shuts the drawers. "So you can go home now."

Without waiting for Azareth to complain and beg for his attention, Calyn steps into the bathroom and shuts the door. After only a moment's reflection, he locks it too.

Azareth is nothing but an annoyance.

Calyn gets the weekends off work, so today he's going out with a friend.

It was her idea. In fact, Calyn's only wish was to stay home and alternate between napping and doing nothing at all. That was, until Delilah started blowing up his phone, demanding that he 'stop fueling the vampire rumors' and 'act like a human for once'.

Delilah, obviously, has no idea what vampires are really like.

Anyway, if he doesn't go out with her, she'll definitely break down his door and drag him by the ankles. Better to quit while he's ahead.

So now he stands leaned against a wall at the mall, scrolling random forums on his phone. Apparently a new type of fae was discovered in Lithuania. Archaeologists just dug up an actual werewolf's corpse. The remains still change on full moons. Some scientists are trying to discover a link between substances that repel the supernatural. Some singer or another got replaced by a skinwalker. (That one's a theory with no concrete proof just yet. No way to verify unless you get a glimpse of the belly button) The gnomes are migrating again. Shadow-dwellers are now endangered. New lord of Over There to be crowned soon.

Calyn scrolls past this last one, then pauses, and goes back.

When he taps it open, a picture of Azareth stares back at him.

"Whoa, who's this hottie? Is he your boyfriend, Cal? That's such a fancy cosplay."

Calyn snaps back to reality when Delilah speaks right in his ear. He locks his phone and puts it in his pocket. He pulls a face. "I don't even know the guy. And I'm single."

"Ugh, of course you're single. How could I forget you have an aversion to the living?" She links her arm with his and leads him into the fray. "Still, at least tell me his @! Just because you're a lone dog doesn't mean I want to be. . ."

"He's not on social media. Some foreign prince or something."

Delilah sighs. "All the hot ones are out of reach. Maybe I should get a girlfriend instead. What do you think, Cal, could I pull a buff ladyfriend?"

"With your personality? Absolutely not."

She elbows him in the ribs, complains about his rudeness, and drags him into whatever store. Someplace that sells makeup. It also sells--and he can't make this up--extremely antiquated self-help books. Like, books so old that they're written in Middle English. Cal's rusty, so he can't read all the titles, but they seem superstitious.

He realizes that this is because the proprietors of the store are a pair of gorgons. Which, contrary to popular belief, were not just Medusa and her sisters. As of now, Calyn's bumped into at least six, none of them being related to the three from Greek myths.

Even in a mall, half the world still comes from Over There.

A couple of weeks go by relatively peacefully. After the demonic incident at the supermarket, Calyn sprinkled around some salt, smeared holy water on the doorways and sills, and spritzed the place with rosemary-garlic water. Since then everything's been mostly fine, except that a few of the customers can't come in unless he invites them. He makes a little money exorcising some young couple's house. But mostly he goes to work and school unhindered. For once in his life, Over There seems to be giving him a break.

Until tonight. Because of course.

He's in the kitchen, cooking up dinner, when someone starts beating on his door like they're trying to bust it down. He calls for them to hang on--thinking maybe it's Delilah--and makes sure nothing's going to burn. Then he answers the door.

Standing on the other side--not dressed up in his usual splendor but instead wearing a simple set of cotton shirt and pants--is none other than the soon-to-be-crowned Azareth. In fact if Calyn remembers correctly he's supposed to be crowned tomorrow.

". . .What do you want now?"

Azareth smiles and shoulders his way inside. Calyn tolerates it, if only because in all the years Azareth's been bothering him, he's never smiled like that before.

"It smells good in here!" Azareth takes a deep breath of the smell. "Hmm. . .Is that garlic?"

"I'm making lasagna."

"Good choice. Is there enough for--"

"No."

Azareth chuckles. "Yeah. . .I didn't think there would be. So, Lyn, how's school? Have they put you in charge of the supermackret yet?"

Calyn returns to the kitchen with a frown. "Supermarket. And no. It's only been a couple of weeks. School's. . .fine."

"Just fine? Did something happen?"

"No, nothing happened." Calyn sneaks a look at Azareth. One of his hands is up on the counter, and Calyn sees nothing amiss with it. Same amount of knuckles and fingers as always. Same tattoo. Wait a sec, his nails are shorter. Has he been biting them? Since when does Azareth bite his nails? "School's just boring."

"Good, good." Azareth nods a distracted nod. Then--

He lifts his other hand and starts biting his nails.

What the fuck?

"What about you?" Calyn asks, pretending he isn't watching Azareth out of the corner of his eye like a hawk. "How was your day?"

He doesn't actually care much, but it's pretty easy to get info out of Azareth if you know how to bait your hook.

"Oh, mine? It was okay." Azareth shrugs. "You know--same old."

Something's definitely off.

Calyn checks his phone. He scrolls through, skimming headlines. Not a word about Azareth. Still. . .

He's acting weird.

"Hey Lyn?" Azareth's voice comes a little too fast. "I was thinking--remember when we used to play in your yard as kids? Like, we'd pretend we were sailors and stuff."

"Yeah, why?"

Another smile that shows too much fang. "You were so cute back then. That's why I fell in love with you, you know."

Calyn lifts his head to frown at him. This was more like Azareth, and yet.

That smile was still wrong.

"You're so full of shit, Az." Calyn replies in his usual flat, weightless tone.

Instead of snapping back, Azareth just shuts up. Calyn didn't know he was even capable of such a thing.

It's quiet for some time. Azareth chews on his nails and Calyn makes lasagna.

He didn't know Azareth was going to show up on his doorstep like this. He only made enough for one person, but. . .

Bitterly, Calyn splits it in two, pairs it with a mediocre salad and breadsticks, and slides one portion over to Azareth.

Azareth blinks at his plate for a minute, then says, "Oh--you didn't have to--"

"Shut up and eat."

Strangest thing so far: Azareth actually listens, rather than making a big deal out of it and proclaiming his undying love to Calyn.

Normally Calyn would've kicked Azareth out at the first opportunity. But--curse his soft heart--tonight he can't bring himself to do it. So instead, he puts on a movie and makes popcorn and turns off the lights, and the two of them share his blanket on the couch. Every time they've watched movies together before, Azareth just would not stop asking questions.

This time he says nothing at all.

And when the movie's over, of his own volition, he says, "Ah, it's getting late, huh? I should go home now. It'd be bad if I disturbed your rest."

So Calyn sees him off at the door. But when he's about to close it, Azareth catches the door with one hand and says--almost frantically-- "Calyn."

". . .What?"

"Would you--would you love me, if I were human?"

What the hell's up with him tonight?

"No, I wouldn't."

A beat of silence.

"Yeah. I didn't think you would."

He leaves.

After that night, Azareth never showed up to bother Calyn again.