• Now, don't get me wrong. The few weeks following that meeting in the hospital bed weren’t calm. They were hell, to be honest. I constantly found myself having panic attacks every time I saw a shadow, or someone walked up from behind me. I had tests and scans just to make sure I was mentally stable, for God's sake. Even when everything came back negative, it only made me more uneasy. I was completely and utterly convinced I was losing it. Or, rather, lost it.
    My parents and family tried to convince me it had been a dream, and that I shouldn't worry about it.
    After about a 3 weeks of caring, I gave up. I tried to forget about it. It was just one little incident, that never happened, right? There are plenty of reasons why there was a feather on my pillow, all of them perfectly sensible and not involving any form of freak dressed in a leather jacket and leather pants (yes, I'm focusing on the clothes more than the wings, here).

    I got back to school, and soon I'd be all healed up. The worst of my injuries just being a broken left arm and left leg. I was all right.
    Do you get it?!
    Do you see?!
    ...No, seriously, it was actually my right arm and leg that got broken. And my nose. And stuff like that.
    But the point is, I was okay.
    Just a little mental, but Okay.

    It was about 3 days after I got my casts removed (Awkward situation at the hospital; Drake had drawn dirty pictures all over my leg-cast when I wasn't paying attention... All of men).
    I came home, threw my bag into the corner, stared at it for a moment, picked it up and put it over my door, and walked backwards to flop onto my bed. School had been exhausting, and I felt I should be at least a little dramatic about it.
    “Steady on, mister. I know you're happy to see me, but really.”
    Of course..
    I opened my eyes and stared up at his pointed face and feather-hair.
    In my attempt to flop down on the bed, my head had successfully landed on his lap. It was not a fact that pleased me. I threw myself off him and yelped slightly, but part of me wasn't really as shocked this time.
    “You were gone for weeks... No, maybe more. Is 'weeks' right? I'm not good with human time. I can never remember all the names. Far too complicated.”
    “Y-you're in my house.”
    “Yes!” he gave a happy grin, revealing his mouth was entirely filled with pointed, shark-like teeth.
    “No, let me rephrase that. WHY are you in my house?”
    He tilted his head to the side, giving me a look that seemed to say 'You don't know?'
    “You don't know?”
    “I don't, actually, no. I'm not sure if I want to know, either. What I do know is that I want you out of my house, right now.”
    He let out a little chuckle, like the b*stard he is.
    “You're shaking. That's adorable.”
    “IT IS NOT ADORABLE AT ALL!” I covered my mouth with my hand, remembering my family downstairs.
    “Look, are you here to take my soul? Is that what you want?”
    He just smiled again.
    “You're name is Kyro... Are you half Japanese?”
    “Wh--...” he changed the subject as if talking about the weather.
    “...My mother is Japanese, my father is English. Good enough?” I had little patience with this freak, but I didn't want to anger something with teeth like that.
    “Maybe. Do you have any mue-ffins? I like mue-ffins... Wait, am I saying it right?” I wish he wouldn't do that.
    “Mue-fins?.. Oh, 'muffins'?”
    “That's the one! I'll wait for you.” he had decided that by translating for him, I was saying 'Yes, we do, I'll just get one for you.'
    ...It was pretty damn lucky for him that we do and I did.

    And so while he more-than-happily sat there, munching away on a chocolate-chip-muffin, getting crumbs all over my previously clean bed, I only stared at him. I just stared with my mouth a little open.
    He looked up from the mostly-eaten muffin, and ate the remains much faster, probably expecting me to take them away from him.
    He had saliva on his chin. It was disgusting.
    He licked his lips, his tongue abnormally long, and gave a pathetic smile.
    “Okay.” He said.
    “Okay?”
    “Th' names Noroto.” he wiped his mouth on his arm. “And I'm a demon!”
    I didn't feel this explained nearly as much as it should have.
    "More importantly..." He leaned over to me, his face getting far too close.
    "I'm your demon."
    I was suprisingly calm by this. I looked down, and looked back to him, a weak smile placed on my lips. His head was so close I could taste his breath.
    And so I did what I like to think any normal person would do in my situation.
    I punched him in the face, grabbed my bag from off the door, swung it around my shoulder and walked out, slamming the door behind me, leaving Noroto shocked and confused on the floor.