Early Mornings With a Faerie

The faint moonlight shines through the window, the glow of the city below overpowering it. The kitchen is illuminated, if only slightly.

It’s enchanting, in a way. Well, you get that almost anywhere, what with the amount of faeries that are living among us.

I glance at my watch, my weary eyes blinded by the light. It’s currently 2 am, and I’m not fully functioning. I can’t make a full meal.

Switching on the kitchen lights, I meander towards the cupboards, yawning slightly. I peek inside to see if there is anything I can cook in under 15 minutes.

“Let’s see, um…” I reach my hand inside and pull out a bag full of instant ramen packets, all of them extra spicy.

I pucker my lips and set the bag onto the counter. I gaze outside at the busy city below, the window, large as the walls in the apartment, giving way to a peacefully bustling maze of skyscrapers and roads. Some of the skyscrapers were built with the help of faeries, who used their knowledge and magic to make them structurally sound.

All of a sudden, I hear a knock on my door, and an aggressive knock at that.

I slowly walk towards it, my mind still partially asleep. I open the door to find none other than a faerie on the other side of it. He appears to be injured. Severely injured. His wings are composed of dark feathers. He’s a shadow faerie.

“Excuse me, are you… are you alright?” I struggle to speak. The faerie was suffering. His wings are bleeding from where they sprout at his back, lips soaked in crimson.

“I… I…” The faerie croaks weakly. Poor boy. He couldn’t even get a word out.

I gesture for him to come inside, guiding him through the door. We both wander into the kitchen, the bag of ramen packets still sitting on the table.

“So… Do you need first aid? A shower? Tell me what you need.”

The faerie runs his hands through his jet black hair, “I’d like to thank you for taking me in, madame. Not a lot of humans accept faeries barging into their homes these days.”

“Well of course not. I just did it because you’re injured.”

The faerie chuckles quietly, “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

I gawk at him, “Excuse me, you’re bleeding.”

“Only now you’re questioning it?”

I roll my eyes at him, “Look, I don’t want to know what happened. It’s 2 am and I just wanted some ramen because I can’t sleep.”

The faerie gives me a quizzical look, “Raw-men?”

I stare at him, then remember that faeries don’t indulge in human cuisine. They think it’s impure and full of junk.

“Ramen. It’s a Japanese noodle dish. It’s so popular that it sells all over the world, even here in Los Angeles. You have the noodles, add the broth, and you can essentially put anything you want as toppings.”

“Sounds like a junk soup,” the faerie remarks.

I mock him, making faces as I take the ramen packets out of the bag. I set them on the counter, before going through the cupboards below for a pot.

The faerie takes a seat on the other side of the counter, resting his head on the marble surface.

“Why do you humans wake up randomly at the most absurd of times?” he asks.

I pause just as I was about to boil the water in the kettle next to the stove, “Uh… Sometimes, we can’t sleep throughout the night like we normally do.”

The faerie tilts his head, his dark eyes glimmering with curiosity, “Why not?”

I shrug, “I don’t know.”

I turn back to the stove, where I place the pot, filling it with water. I turn the heat up, set the lid on the pot, and leave it to boil for a few minutes.

The faerie groans quietly, wincing.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” I inquire.

“I’m fine. These wounds will heal in the morning.” Despite his words, the faerie’s face gives away to the struggle he’s going through right now, contorted in pain.

I sigh, “I’ll make a bowl of ramen for you.”

“No, I don’t want to eat that! I-” The faerie grips his shoulder, seething as he does.

I turn back to the stove, where the water is starting to boil. I open a ramen packet, dumping the noodles into the pot. I let it simmer for a while, poking at the noodles so that they break apart quickly. I then stir them around, making sure that they’re soft and chewy. Then, I open the broth mix, dumping the powder in along with the noodles. I continue to stir until the water level has lowered and the noodles are soaked in the broth.

It’s a calming process. Simple, but effective. Perfect for anyone craving a snack, even if it was at the most absurd of times.

I turn off the stove, looking back at the faerie sitting at my counter. He’s still wincing in pain, running his fingers through his jet black hair.

I click my tongue as I open a cupboard, reaching for a bowl. I set the bowl in front of him, pouring the ramen in.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Do you want anything with it?”

He shakes his head, “You don’t have anything else?”

I toss a fork into the bowl, “EAT! You’ll need it if you want to recover in the morning.”

His eyes glint as he glares at me, “I’m fine.”

“I said eat!”

He grumbles, taking the fork awkwardly in his hands. It takes him a few seconds to figure out how to use it, but in no time, he takes his first bite of the ramen.

“So? Is it the junk you said it was?”

The faerie looks up at me, eyes wide in surprise, “This…” he takes a moment to swallow, “This is comforting in a way.”

I smirk, leaning down to his eye level, “So the faerie admits that human food isn’t all that bad.”

He snickers, “I have a name. I realized I forgot the introductions. I’m Kaz.”

I give him a sideways glance, “Kaz? I thought you would have a long, fancy name with too many consonants.”

He sighs, “What’s yours?”

“Alice.”

“Well, Alice, I’m grateful that you decided to let me stay in your living quarters this early in the morning.”

“I love helping people, whether they’re human, or faerie.”

For the first time since he entered my apartment, the faerie, or should I say, Kaz, smiles, “Pure of heart, aren’t you?”

I shake my hand, “Kind of.”

Kaz goes back to finishing his bowl of ramen, savouring every bite. I originally planned this to be a quick morning fix, but I ended up helping an injured faerie. It’s kind of funny.

Kaz sets the bowl down, having consumed every last bit of the ramen, even the broth.

“Well, I must get going,” he says.

“But you’re still injured,” I object.

“I-agh,” he grips his shoulder again, face twisted in agony.

“Stay. I have a guest room that you can sleep in if you desire.” I turn away from Kaz, cleaning up the stove top and putting away the unopened ramen packets.

“Wait,” Kaz says.

I whip my head around, “What?”

“Can I have another bowl? Please?”