8.Short Circuited

8. Short Circuited

Things get hazy after the kiss.

Nobody pays too much attention to the details after they get struck by lightning. I know from experience.

Okay, it only feels like I was struck by lightning.

Magic can generate the same voltage as actual lightning, or greater, but the current that hit me wasn't that strong. The kiss created a charge greater than the controlled shocks I witnessed with the volunteers, though had less voltage than an actual lightning strike.

Who knows what would have happened if we kept going. Maybe I'd be in a real hospital… or worse.

Instead, I recover in the campus medical center .

"You look better. Let me check your pulse." The nurse doesn't beat around the bush as she enters the room. We've done this routine a few times already, so I'm used to her checking in.

I stare at a blank point on the wall, feeling numb and drained. The crisp white sheets rustle as I shift my weight on the narrow bed.

"How are you feeling?" the nurse asks.

"Like fried chicken," I reply, my voice hoarse.

"Good, your appetite is returning."

"No, like I'm the fried chicken."

"…Let's give it another hour and I'll see how you're feeling then, okay?" She makes some notes on her clipboard before leaving the room.

The room is quiet, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall.

I vaguely remember Az in the gym with me, calling for help. He went to find someone while I laid there writhing in agony.

Regular doctors have treated me and given me a magical tonic their magical healers created, but I still can't shake the feeling of exhaustion that clings to my every muscle. Sleep eludes me, so I just keep staring at the wall, fighting against the heaviness of my eyelids.

The hit wasn't as strong as magical lightning, but so fucking what? It still packed a punch. I wonder if that's why I can't sleep now. Maybe I'll be wired for days .

Blinking, I tear my gaze away from the wall and glance at the small table beside the bed. There sits the trick quarter I gave to Az earlier. My heart clenches at the sight.

You're a miracle worker, McFly.

Closing my eyes, I try to block out the memory. The warmth of his hands, the taste of his lips, the sparks that flew between us - both magical and emotional. It's hard to believe that just hours ago, I was caught up in a whirlwind of desire that nearly destroyed me.

The day is over by the time I'm released.

I step out of the campus medical center, my body still weary from the day's events. The campus always looks so peaceful at night, cobblestone paths and lush lawns bathed in the moon's silver light. It's a stark contrast to the chaos that unfolded earlier in the gym.

My eyes adjust to the dimly lit path ahead, following its curve towards the figure waiting behind a bench.

"Oh, you waited."

"Of course I did. I—"

Az stands in the pool of light under one of the lamps edging the path. We both freeze, the bench like a barrier between us. We're both hesitant to close the distance after what happened.

He looks like a mess. He's probably been out here the whole time, worrying and waiting. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest, as if trying to hold himself together.

"You're okay." Az breathes a sigh of relief, then pauses. "Are you okay?"

"Jury's still out." When Az stops staring miserably at his boots and his head snaps up to look at me, I realize this is the wrong thing to say. "I'm fine. Stable. Just, just… shaken."

He groans, going right back to watching his feet. "God, Marty. I'm so sorry. I don't know how to tell you how sorry—"

"Stop, it isn't your fault."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles darkly. "How do you figure that?"

"We're both responsible. I'm not even sure who kissed who first, we were both thinking the same thing. No, we both weren't thinking." That's why this is so dangerous. We want to touch each other. All it takes is a moment where we forget or where our desire eclipses all the reasons we shouldn't.

Even now, I'm still drawn to him. I know firsthand what touching him and not letting go feels like and yet it's not enough to deter me, not completely. He looks so lost and uncertain, and I ache to make it better. To throw my arms around him, comfort him and seek comfort.

Yep. This is dangerous.

Keeping my hands to myself is a problem. Being around him will only get more impossible now that it's clear how much we both want the same thing. The risk seems too great now. Can we trust ourselves around each other? What if we forget again? What if we slip up? There's only one way to prevent this from happening again.

"McFly, Marty, this won't happen again."

"I know." My chest tightens at the thought of what comes next. I force out the words. "Because I have to quit."

"Marty, don't." His hand reaches out, almost instinctively, before falling uneasily onto the bench.

"I'm sorry." I am. But I can't waver now. This is the only option.

"Don't decide this now. Go to bed, get some sleep."

"I've been resting all day," I argue. "I can't stay. I've gone over this a hundred times."

Az fingers still from where he taps an erratic rhythm on the bench. "Despite the danger, I really thought you were the one person who wasn't afraid of me."

"Az, no, I'm not afraid of you," I insist. That's the problem. I can't trust myself to stay away. "I swear, it isn't you, it's—"

"God, don't give me the breakup speech," he groans, cutting me off.

"That's not what I was going to say. It's not you, it's us. " I sink down onto the bench. With my hands in my lap, I stare at them and continue .

"Look, I considered all the risks before even applying for this opportunity. I analyzed the danger and felt certain about my ability to prevent exposure. This was a professional arrangement in a controlled setting. I've never had a problem following rules and being organized."

"Is that normal for airbrands?" he asks, curiosity breaking through his worry.

"Maybe not, but it's normal for me." It had to be after how I grew up. One of us had to be rational and careful and Mom wasn't capable, so it fell to me. "So, you're right, I'm not afraid of the curse. I thought if I prepared and took precautions, there's no real threat. But I never planned on you."

Az groans, the sound like a punch to the gut.

"I mean, I never planned on how I'd feel about you," I confess. Safety protocols seem so trivial when dealing with unpredictable variables like feelings and Azure Serrano. "All I want to do is get closer. Bringing romance into this complicates everything."

"Except we aren't bringing romance into it," he reminds me desperately. "We agreed, we aren't dating."

"That's obviously not good enough." I wish it were. But I can't afford another mistake like this. "We can't just ignore this and hope for the best, not when my safety is at risk. "

"Marty, you helped me fly. I forgot everything else and got carried away. It won't happen again."

"The only way to guarantee that is by leaving."

When we played tag in the middle of campus, I proved I could dodge the electricity. But this is a different kind of danger. My urge isn't to run away but to run right into his arms. And today proved what happens when we do that.

Facing the truth now will only save us more misery in the end. Someone needs to be the adult and make the safe decisions, even if they hurt.

"Please." His voice nearly trembles as he speaks. "There has to be another option."

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "This is the safest option."

I rise from the bench. Each step feels heavier than the last as I make my way down the path through campus. I hear him take a shaky breath, but he lets me go.

I'd been struck with a jolt of cursed electrical energy earlier and walking away from Azure Serrano is still the most painful part of my day.

~

I stand in front of endless bottles of white wine stacked on the shelf, scanning the labels half-heartedly. This shouldn't be a difficult decision. I'm supposed to get wine for dinner at my mom's place tonight, but my mind keeps drifting back to Azure Serrano.

What is he doing right now? Is he trying to harness enough electric magic from his curse to fry all the boxes he brought to the university for me? Or he is in a liquor store just like me?

It's so easy to imagine Az storming right up to the bourbon or single malt scotch, something dark and strong no doubt. Maybe he's already at home, chugging the bottle and trying to forget all about the latest plucky wizard who made promises he couldn't deliver on.

"Can I help you find something?" A fresh-faced sales associate appears beside me with a helpful smile.

"Uh, yeah… I'm just looking for a white wine that goes well with crab cakes," I manage to choke out.

"Ah, this Sauvignon Blanc would pair nicely," she suggests, pointing to a bottle on the shelf.

"Thanks," I mumble, grabbing the bottle and pretending to inspect it so she leaves me be.

When I look up to check the price, my eyes land on the bottles next to this brand. The label is full of colors and incredibly cheery. Az, who always dresses in black and is an eternal pessimist, would hate that bottle and scowl at the vibrant label if he were here shopping with me .

My fingers brush against the label wistfully, thinking about the way his dark hair framed his face, the intensity of his eyes, and the electric pull between us that was impossible to resist – until it quite literally shocked me away from him.

"Damn it," I curse under my breath. My thoughts have turned to Az again.

Without even thinking about it, my feet move on impulse to the next aisle. This section carries hard alcohol like vodka, whiskey, and rum.

I grab the nearest handle of vodka. The alcohol burns my throat as I take a big gulp, and my eyes water.

"Uh... Excuse me?" A cough from my left breaks through my haze of self-pity and regret. I turn to find the same sales associate watching me judgmentally.

"Sorry," I mumble, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'll pay for it."

I head back to the wine section, hurrying away from the sales associate and my momentary lapse of control.

My cell phone buzzes in my pocket with an email alert. Mrs. Blanchard sent me a message. I reached out when I was still trying to break Az's curse, and she has now replied to my questions.

I skim the email and find out that Mrs. Blanchard agrees something fishy could be going on with the Oscurro family .

There are two casters in Az's past who could have cursed him. Az has never wavered, not once in six years, that Ricardo Oscurro cursed him when their relationship ended.

Unlike Az, the Oscurro family's story has changed over the years. Their publicists and legal teams first denied everything, then briefly admitted to one research team that Az knew Ric but denied any wrongdoing. Now the story is that the family has no information to provide at all because they allege that someone claiming to be Ric Oscurro did curse Az, but this wasn't the real Ricardo Oscurro.

It's entirely possible that some details have been lost over the years and the Oscurro changing stories are an innocent mistake. But I'm not ready to call him a dead end yet. His family are incredibly wealthy and well-respected, and they come from the same high society world as Mrs. Blanchard, so I thought her insight might help.

A text message pops up. Mrs. Blanchard is texting me?

Mrs. Blanchard: Do you want me to see what I can find out?

Mrs. Blanchard: This is exciting! I feel like a detective.

Mrs. Blanchard: I need a cool catchphrase. Something about cracking the case without cracking the ice… because I'm an icebrand detective. We'll workshop it later .

She loathes texting, only doing so when she deems it absolutely necessary. Despite everything, I smile at her enthusiasm.

Past researchers have only been able to contact the Oscurros through official channels, getting pre-written answers from PR teams and legal counsel. Mrs. B. has offered to use her connections and see what she can discover.

And then the reality hits me. Solving or lessening Azure Serrano's electric curse isn't my problem, not anymore.

I politely ask her to see what she can find out about Ricardo and the Oscurro family. Before hitting send, I add Dr. Blossom's email address, trusting that he will pass on any information Mrs. Blanchard uncovers to whoever studies Az's case next. It can't be me.

As I put my phone away, I remind myself why a relationship with Az is doomed with or without the curse. As an airbrand, I have my head in the clouds. What I need is a romantic partner who is grounded and can bring me back down to earth. Not a hot-tempered dragon shifter like Az.

I quickly select a bottle of white wine, not caring if it's the perfect match for crab cakes or not. Right now, all I want is to pay for my purchases and escape this store.

Forward is the only way to go.

No matter how much I may want to, I can't go back.