Enchanted By Envy (Passing Through Cafe #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Zefryn Ignatious Pyrnai Armydel Lynor Syhle Persephyn Xolany Clementyne Ootyk

Zef

Something was wrong. Zef felt it like an itching under their skin. They stood in their kitchen, top hands holding the cupboard doors open as their second set of arms crossed over their chest. Deep in thought, they scrutinized the contents of the cupboard, trying to pinpoint the wrongness.

After several long seconds, they spotted it. Their mugs were out of order. Their Monday tea mug sat where their Thursday coffee mug should have been, and their soup mug was on the incorrect shelf entirely. How this had happened, they could not say, but they rushed to right the wrong.

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” they muttered as they shifted their mugs around until they stood in their rightful places.

Objectively, Zef understood that the placement of dishware did not matter, but to them, it was important. Each glass and bowl had its spot, each plate its own special home within the cupboards. And when things were out of order, it made them feel as if they were out of order.

If there was one thing Zefryn Ignatious Pyrnai Armydel Lynor Syhle Persephyn Xolany Clementyne Ootyk could not abide, it was disorder. Especially on a day like today, when everything was about to change.

Now, Zef did not like change simply for change’s sake.

Their old roommate, Denys, loved to swap the furniture in the living room, simply to “keep things fresh.” Zef did not understand this.

They kept their home impeccably clean, so “freshness” was never an issue.

And if they were speaking purely of aesthetics, Zef had designed the layout of the living room furniture with this in mind from the start.

Any changes were wholly unnecessary, in their opinion.

But to keep Denys happy, Zef had allowed a furniture rearrangement twice a year.

They did not like it, but they were not entirely inflexible.

Change was a part of life, and even if they did not enjoy it, they did their best to adapt accordingly.

Even knowing that, they had been slightly relieved when Denys moved out and order could be restored.

With the cupboard back under control, Zef breathed a sigh of relief, then retrieved their Saturday tea mug.

They plucked the water kettle from the stove the moment it began to whistle and steeped their tea leaves for exactly two minutes and thirty-two seconds.

Filling their mug with tea with their lower hands, they gathered their long, wispy hair into a messy bun atop their head with their upper hands.

A few thin, white strands broke free to skitter across their cheeks, and they tucked them behind their pointed ears.

They added one spoonful of honyl, a natural sweetener harvested from the tunneled homes of Hellian pollinators, and stirred it until it dissolved. One sip, and their worries over the day melted away. There was nothing like the perfect sip of tea to calm the nerves.

Toa Sian had taught Zef this when they were a hatchling.

In the community center, after Zef’s first—and rather traumatizing—molt, Toa Sian had steeped a pot of lavendyl blossoms and roasted anai seeds to perfection, then served it to Zef with a cookie and a brief press of two fingers to their shoulder.

“Drink up, koa,” they had cooed. “Everything is better after a cup of tea.”

To this day, Zef found the statement to be true.

Something clunked about from the direction of their bedroom, and they turned toward it, cocking their head in confused curiosity.

They were the only one home, and since Denys had moved out several weeks prior, their condo had been even quieter than normal.

They had been preparing for the inevitable noise of their new roommate moving in, but Bryce was not scheduled to arrive for another hour.

Following the sounds, they cautiously opened their bedroom door and peeked inside.

They found the source of the noise immediately in the shape of a squat, mottled-green body diving head-first into the drawers of their dresser.

As unexpected as the Anura’s visit was, Zef was not surprised.

Tad had a tendency for breaking into their home at all hours for any number of reasons, and they had grown accustomed to stumbling upon her in any manner of shocking and unforeseen circumstance.

At least this time, she was fully clothed and not covered in bodily fluids. It was their preferred way of finding her.

“Tadora,” they said, and the Anura’s bald head popped up, large yellow-green eyes narrowing on Zef as if they were the one to have invaded her personal space. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Oh, you’re home,” she said in her nasally voice. “Good. You can tell me where your pantyhose are.”

“Why do you need to locate my pantyhose?” they asked, taking another sip of their tea.

“I need them,” Tad said simply as she proceeded to empty Zef’s top drawer, throwing their socks and undergarments all over the floor. “Don’t worry about those; I’ll clean them up,” she promised when their wings buzzed in agitation at the mess.

For all her chaos, she kept her promises—at least, the promises she made to Zef. Commitments made to others… that was more of a gray area.

Trusting her to keep her word, they managed to move past the mess to their ensuite bathroom. Their pantyhose hung from the shower curtain rod, still slightly damp from their recent wash.

They returned to the bedroom and placed them into Tad’s webbed hands. “Why do you need them?”

“I didn’t have any, and I need to make some masks, so the cameras won’t recognize me,” she said, like it made all the sense in the world.

“Ah, of course.” Still not fully understanding, they sat down and crossed their legs, sipping their tea as Tad started hacking away at their pantyhose with a pair of scissors she must have brought with her.

“I’ll buy you new ones after I get paid for this job,” she vowed as she snip, snip, snipped away.

Since she always replaced the belongings she “borrowed” from them, Zef made no protest as their pantyhose were turned to ruin. The Anura cut them up into several pieces, then tugged a few over her head to measure. Happy with the facial coverage, she tied off the tops with a knot.

Turning to Zef, she held up several more pieces. “Can I use your head?”

They set aside their tea so it would not spill and nodded. Tad wasted no time climbing into their lap and yanking the sheer fabric over their head until their antennas squashed flat to the sides of their face. It was an unpleasant sensation, but they weathered it with poise and grace.

Normally, they did not like being touched, and they would certainly have detested anyone else plopping into their lap uninvited. But they had been friends with Tad for years. In fact, she might have been Zef’s closest friend, now that they had parted ways with Denys on less than positive terms.

So Tad sitting in their lap as she smoothed the netting over their head was not an unwelcome physical interaction.

Had she ever taken advantage of their closeness to push Zef’s boundaries, they would have been more leery.

But despite the single offer to copulate back when they had first met, she never made inappropriate advances.

Thankfully, that offer had been born of curiosity on the Anura’s part, not actual romantic interest. “I’ve never boned a Mantodea,” she had said, giving Zef a clinical onceover before she pulled an intimidatingly large, silicone phallus from her bag.

“You’re not really my type, but… meh, I’m open-minded. ”

“Oh, no thank you. I have no interest in such things,” they had said, eyeing the sex toy warily.

Rather than be offended, Tad had shrugged and tucked it back into backpack. “Okay, wanna check out my bone collection instead?”

Since they absolutely adored collections of any kind, they had agreed readily.

From there, a beautiful friendship had bloomed between them.

Like Zef, Tad was strange. Unlike Zef, she did nothing to try to fit in or cover up her otherness.

She embraced it, exaggerated it, even. She was unapologetic and brazen, and she utterly fascinated them, right from the start.

She refused to adhere to social norms and ignored cultural expectations.

They were envious of this. They strived so hard to be considered normal, to be understood, even when they did not understand the unspoken social contracts everyone else seemed to.

It was one of the reasons they so enjoyed Tad’s company.

She said what she meant and meant what she said, and Zef never had to question where they stood. She never expected them to be anything or anyone but who they were. They could simply be themself, and she accepted them without reservation.

So they offered the same in return. Tad, in all her chaotic otherness, could be Tad, and they would not judge her for it. In fact, they preferred her strangeness over the two-faced “normies” out in the real world. At least she was honest.

“Can’t trust a normie,” Tad would say as she braided Zef’s hair. “They’re all fake. That’s why I like you, Zef. You can’t be fake. It goes against your wiring.”

“And I am wired correctly?” they would ask.

“You’re wired the best way,” she would say, giving their cheek a pat. “Now stop moving. You’re ruining the braid.”

As someone who had spent most of their life feeling like their wires were all wrong, they quite liked that.

So when Tad climbed up their body to sit on their shoulders or took their hand to pull them this way or that, Zef never flinched. She was their dearest friend, after all, so she was allowed to touch them.

“Hold still so I don’t cut your hair,” she instructed as she knotted the pantyhose netting on top of their bun and snipped off the excess material. The tip of her long, sticky tongue poked out between her lips in concentration as she tugged and smoothed the net until she was satisfied.

“Is my head the appropriate size for your measurement?” they asked through the netting.

“Close enough,” she said. “It’ll get the job done.”

Tucking their mug of tea under the pantyhose mask, they took a sip. “What job?”

With a nearly condescending tap to their head, she snickered. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.”

Zef did want to know the answer, but Tad was stubborn about some things. They decided not to push the issue. They sat with the Anura in their lap as she made three more masks from their pantyhose, using their head as a mannequin.

“Are you ready to retrieve the duffel bag you left here last month?” They pointed to the closet. “I may need the space if the animal healer has many belongings.”

Tracking a buzzing insect with one eye, she pondered a moment. Her long tongue shot out and captured the poor creature, and she crunched down on it as she said, “There’s still too much heat on me. Can the bag stay here a bit longer?”

“I suppose, though, you should hire a repairman,” they advised, and she cocked her head at them. “The air conditioning in your home has been broken far too long if temperature-sensitive material cannot weather the heat.”

For a moment, humor danced in the Anura’s eyes, and she even released a snort before she schooled her features. “Okay, Zef. I’ll get that air conditioning fixed and pick up the duffel soon.”

“And I still cannot know what is in it?”

“Better if you don’t,” she said with another pat to their head.

Knowing Tad, the duffel was probably full of sex toys or hard-core kink paraphernalia, so perhaps it was better they remain ignorant. Not that they were prudish about such matters. Just because they did not want to participate in those activities did not mean they were not curious.

Their favorite types of documentaries were those that focused on the psychology behind culture and society, sexuality and intimacy, and communities generally considered “outside the norm.” Life was beautiful and diverse, even in regard to activities Zef personally found unappealing.

“I could handle it,” they said, somewhat stiffly, as they fought the urge to pout like a child.

Another amused snort. “I know you could.”

The doorbell rang before they could argue, and they fluidly rose to their feet, their earlier nerves swarming back to life in their belly. Tad had offered a distraction from the day’s upheaval, but the chiming of the bell erased the momentary calm.

Zef was getting a new roommate. A human roommate.

Bryce was an animal healer, a veterinarian as humans called it.

Zef had made his acquaintance in September when they had visited the human world with their coworkers from the Passing Through Cafe.

Oliver, the most recent hire at the cafe and a human himself, had invited their group to Montana where his parents owned a dude ranch.

Since they had never been to the human dimension before, the experience had been eye-opening.

They had even ridden a horse during their visit.

Queen Charlotte was a gentle, noble creature, and they had liked her immensely.

They had thanked her profusely for allowing them to sit atop her back during their “trail ride.”

But one of their favorite moments from the weekend had been observing Bryce as he tended to a wounded bull.

The human had graciously allowed Zef and Willow—their Dryad coworker—to watch as he sanitized, stitched, then wrapped the injured leg.

They had done their best not to overwhelm him with questions the entire time, but Bryce had been most accommodating with his answers.

Only a few weeks later, Oliver had announced that Bryce would be taking part in a study-abroad program here in Hellia. He was in need of temporary housing, and Zef happened to have an extra room. So they had offered to rent it out to Bryce, and the human had agreed immediately.

And now, Bryce was here to officially move in. Other than Oliver—and to a certain extent, Oliver’s friend, Jude—Zef had not spent much time with humans. They had certainly never cohabitated with one. Hence the flurry of nerves cramping their stomach as they approached their front door.

It would be fine, they reasoned. From the limited time they had spent with him, Bryce had proven himself to be kind, friendly, and polite. Their temporary living situation could prove to be beneficial and educational for them both. What better way to learn about humans than to live with one?

Yes, it would be fine. Zef was sure of it. As long as Bryce did not drink the last of their favorite tea without replenishing it. Or move the furniture. Or rearrange their mugs. Or change the condo in any way.

Though that was an unfair request, they supposed. If Bryce did change things, Zef would take it in stride. They would respond how they always did, with poise and grace.

Unless Bryce rearranged their mugs; that really would be a dealbreaker.