Chai

Chapter 7

I sat on his couch. My wings, now ruffled, took up a large majority of said couch. I'm glad we took it when we moved, I always loved that couch. The cushions were overstuffed just enough to allow me to rest my wings comfortably, but not enough to cause me to sink into the depths.

Gizmo appeared around the corner with a concerned frown and muttered, towel over his shoulder, "What happened?" I looked away. Nausea crept up my throat. I bit back tears

I muttered, looking at the wall behind him, "It doesn't matter." He put his hands on his hips, and his ears stuck out sideways. He played with his lip ring. The silence got tense. I curled into myself.

He sighed and tossed the towel and some clothes at me, "Go shower." He turned and moved towards the kitchen. I watched him walk away for a while, agony swimming in my stomach like a goldfish.

*

His shower was a basic bachelor pad shower, nothing fancy and enough to get the job done. Three bottles sat on the shower shelf: Color safe shampoo, color safe conditioner, and generic "manly" body wash with a picture of a buff wolf on it. I shuddered at first when I saw it. Regardless of my feelings of wolves, I had no other toiletries to use, so I climbed into the shower with a frown.

*

The shampoo may have just been a fur shampoo, but, damn, it worked wonders on my wings! I ran a wing comb, which Gizmo "just happened to find in a shopping bag" when he moved into his flat, through my feathers. The sensation of clean feathers being combed drew tears to my eyes as my spine tingled. It was so smooth.

Gizmo knocked on the bathroom door and chirped, "Hey, Kate, are you almost done?" I finished brushing my wings and threw on the clothes he lent me. The shirt wasn't too oversized, but the jeans required a lot of cuff-rolling to stop them from dragging on the floor. I was happy the shirt was wing-compatible, and nothing else really mattered. I wandered out of the bathroom and saw Gizmo leaning on the kitchen counter flipping through a cookbook. His eyes are darting across the pages with energy and joy. I step into the kitchen, and he glanced up at me. His glasses slid off his nose and clattered onto the floor. He stayed frozen for a moment. I walked up to him and crouched down. I grabbed his glasses off the floor and rose to my feet. I handed him his glasses. His cheeks became dusted with rose and he put his glasses back on his face. He straightened up and declared, snapping shut the cookbook, "Tonight, little owl, we dine like royalty!"

I giggled, stepping back, "I doubt that. You're just as broke as I am." He exhaled and dropped his arms back to his sides. He stared at me with a small smile. He tipped his head to one side.

He huffed, still staring into my eyes, "Fine. We'll dine like college seniors then." He turned and glided to the stove. He reached the cupboard without trying and pulled out several mixing bowls.

Without warning, my brain began to malfunction. The urge to sneak up on him and put my arms around him made me freeze. Heat crawled up my face when he glanced over his shoulder and asked, eyebrow raised, "Are you coming to help me, or do I have to do it all by myself?" I shook myself out and moved to help him with supper.

*

"Okay, now add the flour." I stood frozen, hands shaking. "Add the flour to the mixer, it won't bite you, I promise." I poured the flour into the metal monster that yearned for my digits. In a cloud of regret, all my work was undone. Flour sprayed everywhere. Gizmo froze, gripping the spoon he was using to mix the cheap mix gravy. He glanced at me with thinly veiled contempt. He ran his tongue over his fangs and sighed. He took the gravy, which now had a thin layer of flour covering it, off the element. He pries the measuring cup from my fingers. I glanced up at him and turned to face him. His eyes met mine and his lip twitched. He bit his lip and sighed in frustration. I moved to slink to the couch, but his hand grabbed my outside shoulder. Flour became airborne as his hand contacted my shoulder.

I whispered, my wings pulling close to my body, "I'm sorry, I'm not really a good cook."

His lip twitched menacingly.

My heart dropped.

My eyes widened as he cracked up laughing. His eyes watered as he leaned on my shoulder for support. He fell to his knees. I tried to stop him from falling, but I slipped in the flour. I landed on top of him, my face buried in his flour-coated shirt. He laughed harder as we lay on the flour-covered hardwood, shaking violently. He coughed, the flour still settling around us, "You... you just... how did you do that?" I frowned as I pushed myself up from his chest. His laughter slowed and he sat up, causing me to slide down into his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, and I froze. One of his hands lifts from my waist to push my hair from my face. We lock eyes and the world stops.

His eyes are dark and burning.

His face is relaxed, and his hand moves back to my waist.

I lean forward.

Until the door slams shut. Horror crosses his face as someone stumbles in the door.

The stranger slurs, bringing the smell of beer in with them, "Awwww yah! Gizmos' got em self a girrrlllyyy friend." Gizmo pulled me closer to his chest and tensed.

He growled, voice low and menacing, "Get lost, Beau, you're drunk, and Aunty Charol won't want to see you here." Beau sneered. He stumbled closer. Gizmo growled again, standing up in a rush. I wrapped myself around him like a koala.

A beer bottle shattered.

I was ripped from his arms.

I slammed into the floor. My wings wrapped around me. I slid across the floor and onto the living room carpet. I stayed put, hands shaking. Gizmo yelled, voice loud and assertive, "Chai, get into the bathroom." I stood up in a rush and nearly made it to the bathroom. Then something stopped me. I turned on my heel, ran to Gizmo, and grabbed his hand. In a burst of speed never to be seen again, I tried to save Gizmo from the seething monster. Gizmo shoved me into the counter. A bottle swung where my head would've been.

I got the message when Gizmo shoved me again towards the bathroom.

I heard footsteps behind me, and I lunged into the nearest closet. I pulled out my phone. It was dead. I cursed and burrowed under a mound of blankets and jackets.

The darkness was comforting as I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the calamity to end.