Kiss of Fate

The Next Day

I woke up on the sofa, every muscle in my body sore and my stomach growling with hunger. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow across the room, but it did little to lift my groggy spirits. Just as I was trying to shake off the fatigue, a sudden noise startled me upright. My heart raced as I heard something rustling in my apartment.

With a jolt, I leaped off the sofa, feeling the stiffness in my legs protest as I grabbed the broom leaning against the wall. The familiar weight of it offered a sense of false security as I raced toward the kitchen, my footsteps echoing in the stillness. The adrenaline coursed through me, sharpening my senses, making me hyper-aware of my surroundings. At first, I thought Maui had gotten into something again, probably knocking over a plant or rifling through a bag of treats. The thought of scolding him made me prepare my voice, ready to yell at him for being a little troublemaker.

But as I burst into the kitchen, broom raised and ready, I skidded to a halt. It wasn't Maui or Pearl causing the commotion. My breath hitched in my throat as I scanned the room, my heart thumping louder than ever. The usual clatter of dishes and the soft hum of the refrigerator were replaced by an eerie silence, making me acutely aware of the tension in the air. What—or who—was in my apartment?

I took a cautious step forward, my eyes darting around the kitchen. The floor creaked beneath me, but I pressed on, determined to uncover the source of the disturbance. My mind raced with possibilities, each more absurd than the last. Maybe it was a burglar, or worse, an enemy of HotGuy. I held the broom tightly, a makeshift weapon in my hands.

As I moved closer to the sliding glass door that led to the deck, I noticed the slight flutter of a note taped to it. Curiosity piqued, I stepped closer, peering through the glass. Just as I leaned in to read it, I caught a glimpse of movement outside. HotGuy took off into the sky, soaring gracefully over the city below, his mechanical wings catching the sunlight and reflecting it in dazzling patterns.

I turned my attention back to the note, reading the cheerful message scrawled in HotGuy’s distinctive handwriting: “Hey there, Grian! I hope you slept well! I just wanted to show you that CG (Cute Guy) does exist! I have so many pictures of him! See below.”

A small chuckle escaped my lips, a mix of amusement and disbelief. I know he exists... I am him, I thought to myself, a wave of pride washing over me. I shook my head, feeling a warmth blossom in my chest at the thought of HotGuy being so enthusiastic about me.

As I opened the door and took the paper and a little envelope, the faint scent of fresh air filled the room, mingling with the lingering aroma of yesterday’s coffee. I stepped outside onto the deck, squinting against the sunlight. My heart raced as I pulled out the envelope and began to sift through the pictures, each one a snapshot of my alter ego in action.

The first photo showed me perched on the edge of a rooftop, the city skyline stretching behind me. I looked focused and determined, ready to leap into action. In another, I was captured mid-flight, my wings unfurled, the sunlight illuminating my feathers in a breathtaking display. A sense of nostalgia washed over me as I gazed at the images, memories flooding back of those exhilarating nights spent patrolling the streets.

HotGuy circled back and landed gracefully on my patio, his expression one of excitement. “What do you think?” he asked, leaning closer to see the photos in my hands.

“I think…” I began, searching for the right words, feeling a playful smirk tugging at my lips. “I think you’re a stalker of this guy,” I said flatly, trying to keep a straight face.

HotGuy’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked taken aback, his enthusiasm momentarily replaced by surprise. “What? No! I mean, I just—” he stumbled over his words, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.