welcome home

welcome home
I clunched unto Darius the moment the world settled again, stone replaced air.
Cold, ancient stone beneath my boots. A distant hum of life. The faint sound of water moving somewhere nearby. For a second, my eyes refused to open, my body still caught between wherever we’d been and wherever we now were.
I didn’t let go of Darius.
In fact, I tightened my grip.
My fingers were fisted in the front of his coat, my cheek pressed to his chest like if I loosened even an inch, the ground might vanish again. His arms were around me instinctively, solid and unyielding, anchoring me in place.
“Easy,” he murmured above my head.
I drew in a deep breath.
Then another.
And another.
His scent filled my lungs—warm, familiar, unmistakably him. Smoke and something darker beneath it, something that made my chest ache in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely. I breathed him in shamelessly, greedily, like I needed proof he was still real.
I tilted my head slightly, just enough to press closer, inhaling again.
Darius stilled.
“Mika,” he said softly, a hint of amusement threading through his voice. “You can let go. We’re here.”
“I know,” I muttered, my voice muffled against him.
I did not, Infact let go.
The air around us felt different. cooler, sharper. When I finally opened my eyes, the world burst into view. Narrow streets paved with worn cobblestone stretched ahead, lined with old buildings that leaned toward each other like they were sharing secrets. Ornate facades rose above us, statues carved into corners and rooftops, watching silently as if they’d seen centuries pass and found nothing surprising anymore.
Prague.
I knew it without being told.
The city felt alive in a quiet, steady way. Timeless. Like it had survived too much to bother rushing.
Still, I stayed pressed to Darius, breathing him in again, grounding myself in the rise and fall of his chest. My heart was still racing, still too aware of the kiss, the argument, the way everything between us felt fragile and electric all at once.
“You’re holding onto me like I might disappear,” he said gently. He said, smiling with closed teeth as he greeted everyone that passed, giving us an awkward look
“I might,” I replied.
That made him laugh quietly, the sound vibrating against my cheek. His hand slid up my back, warm through the fabric of my clothes. “You’re safe,” he said. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
I closed my eyes again, inhaling deeply, memorizing him in this moment—the smell, the warmth, the steady presence. If I focused hard enough, maybe I could silence the doubts, the fears, the memories clawing at the edges of my mind.
Reluctantly, I eased back just enough to look around, though my hands still clutched his coat.
“It’s… beautiful,” I whispered.
His gaze followed mine, pride flickering across his expression. “I thought you’d like it.”
I glanced up at him. “You brought me here?”
“Yes.”
“For real life?” I asked, almost breathless. “Not just passing through?”
He nodded. “For as long as you want.”
Something in my chest tightened. I leaned back into him without thinking, drawing in one more deep breath, just to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
“Don’t get used to it,” I said weakly. “I’m only holding on because of the travel.”
“Of course,” he replied, clearly entertained. “Nothing to do with the fact that you like how I smell.”
Heat rushed to my face. “You’re impossible.”
But my grip didn’t loosen.
“shut up” i said, rolling my eyes as i looked at him. “you know you love it that way.” a smile spread across his face.
“that… unfortunately, is true…” the smile did not come off his lips, not one bit as He led us off the main street, away from the quiet hum of passing voices and footsteps, down a narrower lane where the buildings leaned closer and the light softened. I still walked close to him. close enough that our arms brushed with every step pretending it was because the streets were unfamiliar and not because I wasn’t quite ready to put space between us yet.
We stopped in front of a tall, pale stone house tucked neatly between two others.
I frowned. “This is…?”
Darius didn’t answer. He stepped forward instead, pulling a small set of keys from his pocket. The metal caught the light briefly before he slid one into the lock.
The click echoed louder than it should have.
The door opened smoothly, as if it had been waiting.
Inside, the air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of wood and something clean, untouched. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, illuminating stone floors and wooden beams overhead. The space felt lived-in without being occupied like a breath held for too long.
I took a hesitant step inside. “Darius…”
He followed me in, closing the door behind us. The sound settled something deep in my chest, though I couldn’t say why.
“This is where we’ll be staying,” he said simply.
I turned to him, my confusion sharpening. “We?”
He reached past me, his hand brushing mine as he placed the keys on the small wooden table near the entrance.
Then, without warning, he picked them back up and pressed them into my palm.
The metal was cool. Solid. Real.
I stared down at them, my fingers curling automatically, as if afraid they might vanish. “What” I looked up at him, stunned. “Why are you giving these to me?”
“They’re yours,” he said.
The words knocked the air out of my lungs.
“Mine?” I repeated faintly. “Darius….”
He shook his head. “It’s ours if you want it to be. But the keys belong to you.”
I laughed softly, disbelieving, my chest tightening. “You don’t just give someone keys to a house.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I do.”
I searched his face for irony, for arrogance, for some hidden meaning but there was none. Just certainty. Quiet and unwavering.
“What if I leave?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“Then you leave,” he replied without hesitation. “And the house will still be here. So will I.”
My throat burned. I looked back down at the keys, my grip tightening until they pressed into my skin.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
“You don’t have to,” he said gently. “Not yet.”
The space around us felt suddenly intimate, charged in a way that had nothing to do with magic. I took a slow breath, steadying myself, and finally nodded.
“Okay,” I said, though my voice trembled.
A faint smile touched his lips, like I’d passed some invisible test. “Welcome home, Mika.”
The word home echoed inside me, unsettling and warm all at once.