Present Day, London

When I rolled out of bed around noon the next day, I decided to eat breakfast instead of lunch. Normally I picked something up on my way to wherever I’d decided to go for the day, but I’d gone to the grocery store recently with a craving for the flavors of home. I wasn’t much of a cook, but I’d been building up my courage to try every time I opened the refrigerator and saw the ingredients on the mostly empty shelves.

After my mother died, my younger brother took over most of the cooking. He’d practiced with mom frequently and had a natural skill for the craft. I knew I wasn’t skilled enough to recreate most of his recipes myself, but there was one dish my father had always managed to make without ruining it. Since he was equally bad at cooking, I felt confident I could manage to make kimchi pancakes without too much trouble. 

Thom emerged from his bedroom as I nudged the last pancake out of the pan and onto a plate, peering at me with half-lidded eyes. He looked first at the food on my plate and then back up at me. “What is that?”

“Kimchi pancakes. Do you want one? I have enough batter left to make more.”

Nose wrinkling, he walked over to the island and leaned closer, peering down at my creation with skepticism. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and boxers, showing off more muscle tone than I had ever suspected lay hidden beneath his generally baggy, shapeless clothes. “What’s in it?” he asked.

“Egg, flour, chives,” I replied, tearing off a little piece of the pancake with my chopsticks and offering it to him. “Kimchi, obviously.”

Looking even more skeptical, Thom leaned further over the counter to take a delicate bite off my chopsticks, his expression twisting with distaste as he chewed and swallowed. “That’s vile.”

I shrugged, unable to hide my smile. Based on Thom’s preference for meat, fish and bland staples, I got the feeling that Thom was a picky eater. The only exception to his spiceless diet was a penchant for takeaway Indian food. “More for me, then,” I said, untroubled. I popped a bite into my mouth and tried not to cringe at the burnt taste around the edges. The flavor was closer to what I remembered from my father’s poor attempts than my brother’s impeccable cooking, but the similarity still made me ache with loneliness.

“Even you’re having trouble choking it down,” Thom said dryly, our arms brushing against each other as he walked past me to the refrigerator. Even though I knew the kitchen was small and collisions were unavoidable, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had intentionally made contact.

Tearing off another piece of pancake, I tried to savor the familiar flavor without thinking about the past, but my throat was still too taut with emotion for me to swallow easily. 

Thom pulled the top off a yogurt cup and licked it clean. Paused with another piece of pancake held up to my mouth, I couldn’t help but stare at the way his limber tongue moved over the foil. Not a good idea, I reminded myself, wondering why my body seemed to be so intensely attracted to Thom when I knew on every other level that I shouldn’t get involved with him.

Watching me struggle to swallow my bite of pancake, Thom frowned. “I don’t get it. If it’s that bad, you should just throw it out and make something else.”

“The taste isn’t the problem,” I replied, lowering the remaining pancake to the plate and dragging my attention away from his lips as he licked his spoon. “Eating this reminds me of home.”

A soft smile tugged at Thom’s lips, the gentlest expression I’d seen him make. “That’s sweet.”

I scoffed, and stuffed my mouth full of pancake to avoid saying anything more.

“It is,” Thom insisted, leaning an elbow on the counter and putting himself into the path of my gaze again. “I don’t remember much about my own parents, so it’s hard for me to relate, but it’s nice that you have such fond memories of home.”

Shaking my head, I stabbed at the remaining pancake with my chopsticks. “I have a few.”

“Just a few?”

I didn’t reply, finishing off the last pancake quickly. 

Tossing the plate into the sink with the dirty pan, I ran some water to clean the dishes, knowing Thom would be annoyed if I left them unwashed. Fastidious to a fault, Thom liked to keep the apartment pristine – unlike Mason who had left his bedroom such a disaster zone that it took me days to get it clean. 

“What are you doing today?” Thom asked, his casual tone coming out forced. I couldn’t tell if it sounded awkward because he had ulterior motives or simply because he wasn’t used to showing interest in other people. After weeks of sharing the same space, we’d barely interacted more than necessary, and he’d never asked me about my plans before.

“I have to work tonight,” I said cautiously, “but I thought I might explore the city a bit until then.”

“Do you want to see the mural I’m working on? It’s almost done.”

I stared at him a while before responding, suspicious of the offer for no good reason. “Sure,” I said, afraid I would offend him by refusing.

“Smashing. I’ll just get dressed and we can go.” His eyes lingered on me as he backed toward his bedroom, and there was something so compelling about his gaze that I found it difficult to look away.

When he was gone, I leaned against the counter with a sigh and stared into the soapy water in search of answers I knew I wouldn’t find. I still hadn’t figured out Thom’s connection to the world of folklore, but there was definitely something about him that wasn’t human. Every time he caught me in his gaze like that I felt like I was being hunted by a predator that could see all of my weaknesses at a glance. He’d yet to do anything threatening or make me feel unwelcome in his apartment, but there was still something otherworldly about him that set off alarm bells in my head every time he got close. 

Unfortunately, I’d never been very good at ignoring those kinds of warning signs.