Changeling Gatecrash

20250911

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

Keith was forgetting something. He was sure of it.
Not in the “did I leave the stove on” kinda way. This was a nebulous nagging unease. A certainty that something was on the horizon, and flowing ever closer, but no idea what.
He’d checked all his calendars, skimmed through chats, even looked at the news. Nothing. Well, nothing that explained this anxious malaise.
By the time he clocked out of work and got home he’d mostly convinced himself he was imagining it. That this was just general stress and anxiety. A sign of poor nutrition or dehydration or needing more sleep.
Until he turned the key in his front door and found it already unlocked.
What?? Had that been the cause of - but he always double-checked it, he wouldn’t-
Oh.
Of course.
Fey didn’t need to be invited into your property. Especially if you were family.
Keith pocketed the key, took a moment to compose and brace himself, then opened the door and called “Hi, Kendall.”
Unease about whether this would result in a confused burglar was immediately banished by the gleeful crow of “Twin!!” and Keith’s inhuman spitting image bounding out of the living room to wrap him in an enthusiastic hug.
Despite feeling he really didn’t have energy for all this (because whenever Ken was involved, anything, no matter how mundane, inevitably turned into some manner of ‘all this’), Keith grinned as he returned the embrace. That bubbly joy de vivre was infectious.
“So, to what do I owe the honour?”
Ken stepped back to squint in confusion. “Eh? I told you I was going to be in town this weekend and we agreed I’d come over and catch up.”
“We did?”
That was definitely something Keith would’ve put on the calendar. All his calendars.
“Don’t tell me you forgot!” Always mercurial, Ken was immediately downcast.
“Maybe. Or… in the conversation where we ‘agreed’ this, were all those pieces of information presented close together and in the correct order?”
“Eh?” Ken blinked. “…Probably?”
Probably not. The fool never learned.
Then again, apparently neither did Keith.
Sighing, Keith pulled out his phone. “When was this?”
“Ahhh I got the current performance schedule last month, would’ve been the first week…”
Quick digital forensic analysis revealed that while you could reasonably interpret the text conversation to mean “We’ve made explicit plans for you to stay at my house on this weekend”, it could just as easily be interpreted (especially by someone with pesky linear thinking habits) as “I’m going to be in your city next month” and then, three dozen miscellaneous texts later, an entirely unrelated “We should catch up”.
Which at least comforted Ken, who cheered up and managed to be moderately contrite. And Keith consoled himself with the vindication. But this didn’t change the fact that his changeling was crashing at his house for the weekend.
Oh well. They were overdue catching up. He just would’ve preferred prep time.
“Did… had you made other plans in the meantime, or…?” Ken probed, clearly bracing to be mature about being kicked out.
“Pff. Please. You know me.” Keith clapped Ken on the shoulder and headed into the kitchen to check provisions. Going to need a bigger weekly shop than usual. “I have zero plans. Just wasn’t ready for you, that’s all.”
“Oh.” Ken relaxed, his grin springing back. “That’s fine! I wasn’t expecting any kind of special treatment, honest.”
Keith teasingly said “Viewing this as a slumming holiday from your usual broadway hotels?”
“Pfft.” Ken scoffed. “Twin, I’ve sent you pictures of the broadway hotels performers stay at.”
“Even once you reach star status?”
“That mostly means I don’t have to share a room anymore. Plus, the complementary coffee here is way better.”
“I’ll certainly believe that.”
There were few things Keith took pride in, but his impeccable taste in coffee was top of the list.
One shopping run and a phone call later, they were settled on the sofa yammering around pizza. Well, Ken was doing most of the yammering, what with globe-trotting theatre life collecting an endless string of stories. Keith was happy to listen and play straight-man.
It was funny. Physically, they looked as identical as true twins. Same height, build, colouring… the variation was subtle. Sparkle in the eyes, slightly more angular face, pointy ears…
Basically, Ken looked like what he was - Keith if he was fey.
Living away from home, in the Fey Realm, as a kid hadn’t been easy. Even with modern technology aiding connection with his friends and family back home.
And… coming to terms with having a new “twin brother”, one who was kinda living the life he’d had to leave behind, was harder still.
He hadn’t understood about leukaemia, or fey magic, only that he was sick and needed to go far away for it to be treated. And that the price of this treatment was Ken. He’d felt… bitter. Scared. Replaced.
Then he was pronounced cancer-free and sent home. Leaving the Fey Realm meant memories of it became hazy and distant. Like he’d spent six years dreaming. Rendering him adrift, a stranger in his hometown.
And there was Ken. Welcoming Keith home like he’d always been there, belonged there, tucking his lost ‘twin’ under his wing and integrating Keith back into the life left behind. That strange threatening figure now a life raft. Childish rancour couldn’t withstand such kindness. Before long they were inseparable.
Sure, he was a goofball. And impossible to keep up with. And got them both in so much trouble. And even now, part of Keith resented how Ken was so charming and confident and outgoing. How he’d found success while Keith just… drifted along. Average. Mediocre, even.
And yet, in Ken’s rollicking whirlwind starry life… his “twin” was the one person he always found time for. He made Keith feel interesting.
Or… maybe just that he didn’t need to be interesting to be loved.
Either way, while it would doubtless be exhausting, this weekend was looking up.

Prompt was “Your protagonist has been feeling off all day, like something is coming. It isn't until they get home that they realize what was making them feel this way…”