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You slipped out of your shoes once the door was locked behind you. With a sigh, you made your way to your kitchen. You found the refrigerator a bit too bare for your liking, and the cabinets weren't faring much better. You'd have time tomorrow for a quick grocery run, but the time on the oven read 6:37. You'd stayed late today to make up for the missed meeting yesterday. Unfortunately, that also meant you rushed out the door this morning to make sure everything was prepared and ready to present.

Your breakfast had been a chocolate bar and an energy drink from the break room vending machines.

Lunch, at least, had been catering ordered by your boss for the long afternoon of meetings.

That was hours ago.

Your stomach growled.

You didn't have time to make anything before Etienne and his witch friend arrived. Not that you had much to make, anyway.

You pulled up your bank account on your phone. Leaning against your counter, you swapped between it and your calculator. Your pay was generous, but you tried to save as much of it as possible, so you carefully subtracted all of your bills from your balance and determined that, thankfully, you'd have enough for groceries even after getting takeout tonight.

You scrolled through your options, making your stomach even angrier, until a knock startled you. You opened the door to see Etienne and one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen.

She was tall, and her weight hung off of her frame in soft rolls, highlighted in a shimmering gold top and knee-length black skirt. Her bubblegum pink hair sat in a tight, perfect knot on top of her head, with the exception of two strands hanging down on either side of her cat-eye glasses. Her eyes sparkled, stunning topaz that popped against her dark skin. She smiled at you in greeting, and it was so warm that you felt you could melt away in it.

“Marina,” she said, stepping in front of Etienne to extend her hand to you, “but everyone calls me Mary.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” you said, introducing yourself in kind as you shook her soft hand.

She clapped her hands together once you pulled away, earning a jump from both you and Etienne. You looked at him. He had a soft, fond smile on his face as he rolled his eyes.

“Let me take a look at this place, huh?” Mary said, peering over your shoulder. You stepped aside and she waltzed past you, the smell of cinnamon following her.

You turned to head into the living room with her, but Etienne cleared his throat, prompting you to whirl back to him instead.

“I can't come in.”

You blinked. He started to speak again, but you smacked a hand to your forehead. “Oh! You're a vampire. Yes, come in, come in.”

Etienne chuckled, then followed Mary into your living room. Mary was gesturing wildly. You understood a lot of what she was saying, but not all of it. Enough confused you to leave you feeling lost and left out.

She must have noticed this, because she turned to Etienne and smacked his arm. He didn't react. “Tenny! You didn't tell me your new neighbor was a human!” She turned to you, putting an apologetic hand on your shoulder. “I'm so sorry, sweetie. Had I known, I would've kept this simple.”

“Witches aren't human?” was all your brain could conjure in response.

Mary laughed, but not in a way that made you feel stupid for having asked. “Sort of, but not exactly. There are lots of folks out here that could probably be called human, but we tend to reserve that for folks like you.”

“So people who aren't magical or…” You wracked your brain. Would calling them creatures be offensive? You couldn't exactly say any of them were mythical…

Mary winked, saving you the trouble. “You got it.”

She explained the wards more simply from there. She would put them in place to block out the noise from your neighbors, but she'd leave enough “room” to allow the sounds of the city to lull you to sleep. They would be sturdy, but they'd fade over time. She'd have to come by every few months to reset them.

You decided you didn't mind that at all.

While she worked, casting spells and sending glittery light around the room with her hands, you stepped out onto the balcony. You weren't sure if you were surprised or not that Etienne joined you.

“I thought it best to stay out of her way,” he said, crossing his arms over the banister. He looked back over his shoulder. Inside, Mary was making grand gestures with her arms.

“Probably a good idea,” you replied as you returned your gaze to the traffic below. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “It's nothing. Besides, you seem like you could use a friend.”

“Do I?”

Etienne turned to you, a brow raised, and a turn to his lips that struck you as a little mischievous. “I've never seen anyone come over besides delivery drivers, and you almost always come home right after work.”

You let out an embarrassed laugh. “Do you make it a point to watch me?”

He snorted. Or maybe it was a scoff. “No. I'm just observant.”

You hummed in response. Below, the light changed, and the line of cars slipped away. The sun was beginning to sink, though you couldn't see much of the sunset past the buildings around you. Someone shriek-laughed as they left a restaurant with a group of people. Something twinged in your chest.

“I have friends,” you said after a long moment. You could feel Etienne's doubtful gaze on you even as you watched the crowd retreat down the block. “They're human and don't live here, but I have friends.”

“I don't doubt that.” His voice was soft when he said it. “You're too charming not to. I just thought you could use friends here, too.”

It was then that Mary startled you again. She knocked on the glass door to the balcony before sliding it open.

“You're all set! Come listen.”

You stepped back inside and Etienne shut the balcony door as he followed. Sure enough, you could no longer hear the couple upstairs walking through the living room or the children down the hall screaming.

“Oh my god,” you said, putting a hand on Mary's arm. “You're a lifesaver.”

Mary laughed and shrugged. “I do my best.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Owe me?”

“Yeah, for the work?”

Mary looked puzzled, then something seemed to occur to her and she shook her head and waved her hand. “Don't worry about it, sweetie. I'm happy to help.”

“Are you sure?”

Mary nodded, then started to gather up her things. “It's nothing difficult, and it didn't take long. If you really want to do something, give me a call and let's get coffee sometime.”

You took the card she handed you. In the middle was a crystal ball that shifted and changed as you looked it over. Beneath it was Mary's name and phone number.

You put the card into your pocket and smiled. “I'd love to.”

“Fabulous! Thank you for asking me to come by, Tenny. This one is going to be a great addition to the group, I can feel it.”

Before Etienne could respond, Mary snapped her fingers and vanished in a haze of glittery purple smoke.

You turned to him. “Tenny, huh?”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Don't. Mary is the only one that can call me that.”

You laughed. “Understood. Thank you again.”

Etienne smiled, a little softer than you'd seen yet. “Of course. And it looks like you ended up with a new friend, after all.”

You tilted your head at him. “Or maybe two.”

Something flashed in his eyes for a moment, but it was gone before you could examine it. “Two.”

Your stomach growled.

“Hungry?”

You nodded, pulling out your phone. “Long day. I was going to order out.”

Etienne nodded, and he turned to make for the door.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” The question was out of your mouth before you could think about it. Vampires can drink coffee, but can they eat? Would he want to?

Supposedly.

Supposedly, someone that someone else agreed had sense told him that keeping a journal would be good for him. That was passed along from someone to someone to him. He wasn’t sure if he remembered it. Everyone else seemed to. Or maybe just some of them.

Enough people, in any case, to persuade him to do so. The first thing he wrote about was how impressive this was considering the world at large seemed bent on killing them all.

The dining room was dark, with the exception of the blue glow coming from Ryder's PDA. He hunched over it, typing the day's entry. The ocean outside the window was dark. A handful of lights on the roof cut lines through the inky blackness, but only enough to allow him to see a school of fish swim by now and then.

He complained. He wrote about needing a treadmill because the base wasn't big enough to run laps in and he had to do something with his body besides swim. He wrote about an argument with another pioneer. He wrote about how ridiculous it was that he had written several of these entries, now. It had become part of his nightly routine.

Somewhere up the grapevine, he supposed someone must have had at least a little sense. His journaling was helping. He could bitch and moan all he liked without the inconvenient consequences of doing so to the other pioneers. Nobody could roll their eyes at him or tell him they didn't want to hear it if all he did was type away on the screen of the tablet.

He wrote about how ridiculous that was, too.

Once he finished, he gave it a quick read, just to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

Ryder closed the application. He knew he should climb the ladder to the second floor and go to his “bedroom.” The idea made him roll his eyes. It was little more than a glorified closet. At least it had a proper bed, and at least he wasn't claustrophobic.

He wasn't all that tired, anyway. He considered jogging a few laps around the moon pool, but until they had the titanium to expand the room, it was a tight squeeze. He wasn't sure he wanted to deal with the reaction if he fell in. Again.

He sighed and started swiping through the apps on his PDA. He could play a game, maybe, but nothing caught his interest. He could only toy with the settings so many times. He'd read every book available to him.

He opened the image gallery. It wasn't an app he'd opened before. He didn't have any desire to photograph anything on Proteus. As far as he was concerned, none of it was worth holding onto memories of. He didn't save anything anyone sent him, either.

There were pictures there. Ryder shifted in his seat, scanning over the images on the screen. His PDA had once belonged to someone else, and they took pictures of everything. Someone must have forgotten to clear it completely.

None of it was Proteus.

As far as he could tell, these were pictures from Earth.

He swiped through the dozens of photos. Flowers. Clouds drifting through a blue sky. A dog romping through a forest. He missed forests. He missed dogs. He missed flowers and bright blue skies with one sun.

He swiped and froze.

The last picture was the moon. Earth's moon, in all its glory, full and bright.

He couldn't stand to be by the window any longer. He didn't want to see the moon he was on. He pushed himself to his feet. He stumbled into the next room.

He fell to his knees beside the moon pool. They would ache, later, from the way they hit the floor. Ryder would find rubber under his nails from the way his hands dug into the barrier between the floor and the water.

His back would be sore from the way it contracted as Ryder lost his dinner.

He straightened up, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and stared in disgust at the water. It wasn't carrying the vomit away like he had hoped.

The idea of someone else finding out about this incident was almost enough to make him sick again.

It would be gone before morning one way or another, he figured. Some fish would probably make breakfast of it. If not, surely it would get washed away by then.

If nothing else, he would lie and say it wasn't him.

After a long moment to catch his breath, Ryder stood on unsteady legs. They carried him back to the dining room where he grabbed his PDA. Before dragging himself to his bed, he slipped into the supply room. He grabbed one of the portable lockers inside, typed his name on it for good measure, and brought it to his room.

Tomorrow, during his efforts to restock, he would find the time to grab just enough titanium for himself.

He finally wanted to hang a picture on his walls.

"Our spellcaster is on vacation," the voice on the line said. "Noise isn't considered an emergency, so we won't be able to get a rush job on that."

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeezed your eyes shut. "It's not against my lease to have someone else take care of it, is it?"

"No, but you will be responsible for the cost, and we won't be held liable for any problems that arise as a result."

"Great. I'll do that, then." It wasn't your best moment, but you were tired and frustrated, so you hung up without another word. You looked over at the wall you shared with Etienne.

You took a deep breath and… headed for the bathroom. Given it was nine in the morning, you assumed he must be asleep. If you were going to ask him for help, you wanted to at least seem more put together than you felt. You spent a few minutes in front of the mirror, tidying your appearance and hoping your puffy eyes weren't as obvious as they seemed to you.

You gave yourself another once-over (should I change..? No.) before heading next door. You knocked, then waited. It was early. Late? Early for you and late for him, you decided. You raised your hand to knock again when the door opened.

Etienne looked as groggy as you felt. His hair was disheveled, bouncy curls sticking up in every direction. The red of his eyes looked darker. His brow was furrowed and he squinted down at you. Even under his very soft-looking pajamas, you could see his muscles tense.

Instinct told you to run.

Instead, you cleared your throat and shifted from one foot to the other.

"I'm so sorry to wake you," you said, "but maintenance won't be able to put the wards up for two weeks and you said you knew a witch?" You hadn't meant it as a question, but that was how it came out all the same.

He blinked, yawned, and then nodded. "Come in. I'll give her a call."

He stepped aside, one long arm extended in a welcoming gesture.

"Oh! That's alright. I can wait at my place." The night before was still clear in your mind, and you were afraid you wouldn't be able to push it away. That would just be embarrassing for both of you.

At least, you hoped he would be embarrassed by it.

Etienne's lips turned down. "It'll be easier to schedule if you're here."

"Right." Dammit.

You stepped inside. It wasn't what you expected. Then again, you didn't know what you expected. Coffins? Cobwebs in the corners? Candles floating near the ceiling instead of lamps?

Instead, it looked… normal, albeit a bit out of style. The furniture could have been straight out of a thrift store, all vintage and antique, but very clearly well taken care of. The living room couch reminded you of your childhood home, and a warm fondness bloomed in your chest. For a moment, you weren’t stepping into a vampire’s apartment. You were stepping into the living room where your favorite show was playing on T.V. after school, ready to throw yourself across the faded pink flowers (and a chocolate stain or two).

"Make yourself comfortable," Etienne said, his voice still rough. "I'll be right back."

He stepped into another room —his bedroom, if the layout was as much a mirror to your apartment as it seemed— and the collection of frames on the wall over the fireplace caught your attention.

You made your way over, curiosity and impulse pushing you to examine the portraits hung there. Some of the subjects were painted, others photographed. Some looked strikingly similar to Etienne. Most did not. All of them were hung in beautiful, gilded frames.

In the center was a painted portrait of what you had to assume was Etienne and his family: a mother, a father, and five children all sporting their mother's soft curls and their father's bold features.

Their mother was beautiful, almost ethereally so. Despite the medium, she had a soft smile on her face. Her cheeks had a rosy glow to them that made the sparkle in her eyes feel alive. She sat in a large, luxurious throne of a chair, a young girl on her lap. The girl was staring up at her mother, her face captured in profile. Behind the chair stood their father, an imposing tower of a man with eyes the color and intensity of the sea. One of his hands hung loosely off his wife’s shoulder. The other rested on the shoulder of a young man with eyes like his father’s. The fourth child, a girl just shy of her teenage years stood beside her mother. There was a sternness in her eyes that darkened them, deepened by the confidence in her posture.

Off to the side, set a step apart from the others, was the smallest boy. He clung to a toy rabbit with a missing ear. That one was Etienne.

It wasn’t his appearance; they were all too similar for him to look different by his face. It was the way he held himself. You’d seen it in the hall and the building’s lobby enough times for it to be familiar. The way he stood straight and tall… just until it reached his shoulders, where he curled in on himself. He bowed his head, his chin nearly touching his chest. He straightened every time your eyes met. Every time, he looked away in the same instant.

"No, no," Etienne said. You turned, confused, only to see him walking back in with his phone between his ear and shoulder. He'd gotten dressed, and you realized that his sense of fashion was also dated. You wondered if that was a vampire thing or an Etienne thing. You watched him walk across the room and into the kitchen, where he began fiddling with a coffee pot so modern it looked out of place in his apartment. "It's not for me. My wards are fine. I've got a new neighbor that maintenance screwed over."

You turned your attention back to the collection of portraits, examining each one. How old were some of these paintings? How old was Etienne?

You knew nothing about him. That was fine, you supposed. You were only neighbors.

Still, despite his daytime crankiness, he'd been nothing but polite to you, and now he was going out of his way to help fix a problem that wasn't his to fix. You didn't have to be friends, but you could probably stand to be a bit more neighborly.

"Well, when's the soonest you can come over?" Etienne asked the person on the phone as you turned your attention to a nearby bookshelf. There were things you were somehow not surprised to see, like classics and infamous literature. There were also a few surprises, like contemporary romances and thrillers.

"Hey!"

You jumped. You'd been so focused on studying his bookshelf you hadn't realized he'd been talking to you.

"What? Sorry, I was —" you gestured to the books. "What did you say?"

"Tomorrow," he said. "Will that work?"

You nodded. "Yeah, as long as it's after work."

"Seven, then?"

"Seven is good."

Etienne relayed that to the witch on the line and wrapped up the call. He stuffed his phone into the pocket of his pants and turned back to the machine he'd been fiddling with.

"Coffee?"

"I didn't know vampires drank coffee."

He snorted. Or maybe scoffed. You couldn't quite tell. "We don't need to, but we can. I enjoy the taste."

"I didn't know that."

"Well, now you do." He turned, leaning against the counter behind him. He closed his eyes and took a sip of the hot drink. His face instantly relaxed, his features softening into pure pleasure. He made a content sound and took another sip before looking at you again. "Would you like some?"

Your brain stalled. The noise he made brought the unfortunate memory of last night back to the forefront of your mind. You wanted to be irritated. You wanted to be frustrated and annoyed.

Instead, you watched his lips curl into a smile as he took another drink. Your gaze fell to his unbuttoned shirt and the patch of light hair it revealed. You snapped your eyes up to avoid letting them travel any further.

"Uh, no. That's alright. Thank you."

Etienne looked confused, maybe a bit disappointed. He shook his head and shrugged, bringing the mug back to his mouth. "Suit yourself."

"Thank you again," you said, making for the front door. "It's a huge help."

"You're welcome to stop by any time."

You ignored the skip in your chest. "I'll keep that in mind."

You shut the door behind you a little harder than you meant to. You flinched at the thud, but quickly gathered yourself and went back to your apartment. You collapsed on your bed. The soft, warm blankets spoke to you, singing sweet siren songs.

Maybe what you needed was a nap.

"You've been doing your research."

"Trying to, anyway. Why not just fire me? Why play this stupid game?" You looked down at your hands, picking at a loose string on your long sleeve. It was the only conclusion you could come to. Friday afternoon, just before you clocked out for the day, Ms. Thorn called you into her office and offered you a promotion. A big one. With a huge raise. You'd been working your ass off at this company for years, working your way up from being a coffee-fetching intern to a staple of the analysis team. You'd given your whole post-college life to this career. You wouldn't deny the sting of your realization; your boss mocking you with a fake promotion in a city that doesn't exist was a slap in the face after all your effort.

She blinked, the smile fading for a brief moment before she collected herself. She opened a drawer under her desk and pulled out a folder, which she placed gingerly on the desk between you. She slid it toward you, then gestured for you to take it.

She began to speak as you opened the folder and skimmed the first page. "You have proven invaluable to this company. Your work is outstanding and consistent. When this position opened up, I recommended you on the spot. You'd do great in Azur."

You were only half-listening. You were still convinced this was a sick prank, especially after reading the details of the position. You closed the folder and tossed it back onto the desk, satisfaction creeping in as the papers scattered across the surface.

"This isn't funny. Does HR know about this?"

Her lips stayed curled in a smile, but they tightened at your words. "This is serious, you know."

"That's exactly why I want to speak to someone else about this! I can't- I can't believe this." You moved to stand, pushing yourself out of your seat, but you found yourself frozen. Actually, you found yourself plopping right back down, your mouth hanging open.

Ms. Thorn waved a hand over her desk. You had to rub your eyes. You had to pinch yourself. You had to run screaming.

There was no way you just watched the papers shuffle themselves back into the folder, nice and neat.

"There's no joke," Ms. Thorn said as she tapped her long, icy blue nails on the folder. "This is a serious offer."

You couldn't take your eyes off the folder.

"It… can be a lot for humans to adjust to, but rest assured, we'll make the transition as seamless for you as we can."

You spent the rest of your workday in her office, oscillating between trying to keep up with the information she was giving you and trying to convince yourself you were dreaming. It was about noon when she told you to take the rest of the day off to process and think before making any decisions.

You made your way home in a daze.

But Ms. Thorn hadn't once lied to you, and the company had gone out of their way to help you adjust. They'd helped you get out of your lease, find a new place, and paid for a moving truck. They gave you two weeks off -paid!- to explore the city and settle in.

And you needed it.

The day you moved in, your hands shook as you handed the wolf-like beast a tip for piling your boxes in your new apartment. The day after, you had to stifle a gasp when the delivery person for the takeout you ordered floated up to your door, iridescent wings shimmering.

You'd been told -or maybe warned- that Azur was a city primarily home to all sorts of monsters, beasts, and mythical creatures. Even after seeing Ms. Thorn's little magic trick and learning that she was half-fairy on her mother's side, you were struggling to believe it.

You'd gone through the corporate song and dance of disclosure agreements and confidentiality contracts. You even went through what you could only describe as sensitivity training. All the while, it still felt like a dream.

In a few days, though, you were flinching less at the sight of fangs and fur. After a few weeks, it was beginning to feel just as normal as anything else.

It took a few months to get into the swing of things, but you got there. The promotion came with more responsibilities, as you expected, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. You'd gone from analyzing customer data to managing a team of analysts. Your new boss, Mr. Nuch, was a griffin that told you frequently that you were already proving yourself to have been the right choice for the position.

Despite the circumstances, that filled you with pride.

The only real downside you could find (outside of having to visit a therapist every week until your transition period ended, just to make sure you were handling having your worldview shattered as well as you could) was your neighbor. Living next door was the new bane of your existence: a vampire named Etienne.

His day began just as yours ended, and he had a tendency to play music all through the night when he was home.

Loudly.

One sleepless night, a few months after you moved in and the night before a big presentation, you had your head shoved under a pillow. It wasn't doing enough. You peeked out at the clock on your nightstand. At this rate, you were barely going to get four hours of sleep.

Propelled by exhaustion and frustration, you decided the only option you had was to confront him. You threw off your blanket, tucked your feet into the fuzzy slippers beside your bed, and wrapped a robe around you as you headed out.

It took four separate knocks to get Etienne to come to the door.

You'd only spoken to him in passing, and only in the middle of the day when he looked as though he'd just rolled out of bed.

When the door swung open, you swallowed a gasp. You knew Etienne was handsome, but seeing him cleaned up and put together was a different story. His blonde hair hung around his face in light curls, gold that made the red of his eyes seem deeper. His features were sharp, all harsh, strong angles. Even his lips were impressive: plump and soft-looking under his long, hooked nose. To top it off, he was well-dressed; you thought he wouldn't look out of place on the cover of a magazine.

"Can I help you?" he asked after a few seconds of silent staring.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts. "Could you keep it down? Your music is loud and some of us have to work in the morning."

He blinked, his brow furrowing. "You- what? How can you hear it?"

"Because I have ears and it's loud? Come on. Just turn it down."

"No, no. I mean. Yes, of course, but there should be wards up. Noise canceling. You shouldn't be able to hear anything outside of your apartment."

You tilted your head, studying his expression. His confusion seemed sincere.

"I'll turn it off for tonight. If you put in a request with maintenance, they should be able to come out and set them up for you. I'm sorry for the trouble. Had I known sooner, I would have kept it quieter."

Heat crept into your cheeks. You hadn't known about the wards (or lack thereof) and this could have been handled earlier if you'd only plucked up the nerve to talk to Etienne.

Still, for all the progress you'd made in settling into a city like this, there was an unshakable anxiety in the thought of confronting a vampire, even about something so small.

Now, you just felt silly. Though they'd been few, your interactions with him had all been pleasant, albeit tinged with a touch of grumpiness. You hadn't been able to tell if that was just his nature or if being out of bed with the sun still up was uncomfortable.

You decided it must be the latter.

"Thank you," you said, taking a step back toward your own apartment. "I'll talk to maintenance tomorrow."

Etienne smiled, and your eyes jumped to the long, white fangs on display. "Feel free to come by again if you need anything else. And if maintenance doesn't do the trick, I'll talk to one of the witches I know. I'm sorry for the trouble. Have a good night."

"Good night," you said, embarrassment and sleep deprivation making your voice sound small.

Etienne kept his word and turned off the music before you even had your front door locked. You trudged back to your bed, blissful quiet settling in around you.

At last, you were starting to doze off. The only sounds, now, were those of the city, and from your apartment, they were distant. Your mind headed toward sleep, dragging with it the image of golden curls and the sound of a low, smooth voice.

Your eyes snapped open just before you really fell asleep.

The quiet was interrupted by a soft sound. A whine, maybe more of a whimper, followed by a quiet groan. You strained your ears, wondering if something was outside your door, all the fears of werewolves and clawed creatures creeping back up your spine. You started to reach for something -anything- you could use for defense when the realization hit.

Another groan, this time more clearly from next door.

You tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach at the thought of Etienne —

This time, you groaned. What an ass. Here you were, telling him he's making too much noise, and he gave you half an hour of quiet. You made it a point to yourself to ignore your racing heart. You pulled the pillow back over your head. First thing in the morning, you'd send in a maintenance request.

And maybe reschedule that presentation.