sai_yu

"But what if I close my ears?" another boy said, pressing his hands to them. "I can't hear anything now, miss!" he screamed, setting off a wave of sweet giggles from his classmates.

The small green ball flew his way, and the boy caught it in one hand, scowling. "Hey, miss, that's not fair!"

"That was not, I do admit," you slipped off the desk, walking around the classroom. All small pairs of eyes followed you like puppies. "But you see, in space, there would be no need to cover your ears, because there is no air or matter for sound to travel through. Even when you're sleeping, there's always something out there, right?" Your eyes met a few nodding Einsteins before drifting towards the window. "You can hear the crickets singing under your window and the wind swirling between the leaves. But in space, there's nothing. Simply an empty, endless realm stretching beyond our comprehension."

A few droplets of sweat coiled on your temple, and you quickly brushed them with a thumb. Glasses sat crookedly on your nose, hair slipped away from a pin-up, and so you pushed them behind your ear.

"Miss, the space sounds so scary," the girl with round frames sighed. "I don't want to be an astronaut anymore."

You chuckled, coming to the previous boy and stealing a soft lump of earth from his sticky fingers. "The space may feel lonesome if you're there alone. But now, astronauts usually go in groups." The ball landed back on your desk, brushing gently against the wooden spaceship. "But even if you were alone, I think the view would be worth the night spent in loneliness."

And as it would soon turn out, nothing was worth the years spent alone. On the huge spaceship, with endless darkness spreading across the little window and years spent somewhere doing God knows what.

"The sun is dying," the government envoy had said. "Can you help us save the world?"

She caught you right after one of the classes, with a half-empty cup of instant noodles and cheeks peppered with crimson chilli-oil kisses. She arrived with a tall, muscular man and a printout of the PhD dissertation, placing a copy on your messy desk.

Your forehead crinkled, eyes landed on a neat, Times New Roman formatted title, An Analysis of Water-Based Assumptions and Recalibration of Expectations.

"That's not mine," you mumbled, going back to the cup of noodles. You hadn't eaten anything for a whole day, and your stomach was already pressed against your spine, with hunger twisting your weary mind.

"That's your name, isn't it?" she said, pressing a neatly trimmed nail against the smaller letters beneath the title.

You didn't even spare her a glance and simply shook your head. "No, I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

Both she and the man sighed, rolling two small chairs from the children's desk to sit in front of yours. With eyes fixed on your face, grimacing in ignorance, and a few locks of hair slipping into the cup.

"I'm Yuki," she said, crossing her legs before looking at the man with the dullest, most bleary eyes you have ever seen. "And that's Choso. We're from a… well. Now you only need to know that we work for NASA."

And that meant one thing – trouble.

Seeing your utmost disinterest, she continued in a warm tone. "Listen, we know your dissertation was a fantastic breakthrough that the supervising committee didn't appreciate. But–"

"A small correction," you interrupted, with eyes still glued to an almost empty cup. "They did not not appreciate me, but completely failed me. My research was proven wrong, and I spent almost five years chasing something that was never there. So no, it wasn't a breakthrough or anything."

"Her long fingers clenched into a fist, and a tongue nervously filled a creamy cheek. "Listen, in our current world situation, we believe that your research wasn't pointless. The hypothesis that life can exist without water–"

"Which was ultimately proven that it cannot," slipped in a whisper, gaze still following anything but those two.

"Right," she sighed, staying shockingly patient. "But the thing is, it actually may."

And for the first time in the past five minutes, you finally looked at her. With eyes hidden behind librarian-like glasses, a white shirt neatly pressed against your body, and chilli oil still coating lower lip. You brushed it quickly with a tissue before clearing throat.

"You have five minutes."

But Yuki needed just a second.

"There are some… microbes, the nature of which we aren't yet sure, that are slowly eating the sun. If we don't do something, in thirty years the global temperature will drop enough to kill every life on Earth."

A long, heavy silence stretched between the three of you, though she was the one doing the talking. The man in a suit sat in silence. He was rather handsome, with dark hair falling long down his neck and purplish under-eye bags framing his deep, doe-like eyes.

Feeling your eyes fixed on his face, Choso wriggled in place. "We believe that you are one of the few scientists who can help in research on those microbes."

A deep sigh slipped past your lips as you took off your glasses and closed eyes. A pulsing headache was filling your mind, weighing down an already overstimulated brain. A few short strands of noodles clung to the bottom of the plastic cup, looking up at your weary eyes, pleading to go home.

You finally murmured, throwing the cup into the bin, "I don't see how that's my problem. I'm just a physics teacher, the academic environment pushed me away, and I believe there are many more qualified scientists for this role."

Yuki's forehead furrowed, lips pressed in a line. "Not your problem? The world is dying, and you think it's not your problem?"

You could almost see a grey smoke drifting above her head, eyes shining like two coffee beans. Golden hair brushed against her suit-covered breasts, with a few straight strands sticking to soft cheeks. She appeared magnificently commanding, exuding a dominant aura of someone beyond the law. Even sitting on a small children's chair, you felt goosebumps cover your bare shoulders.

You leaned back in a chair, the hard backrest digging into your spine. "I just don't understand why it should be me. This," you pointed at a three-hundred-page dissertation, "was just a foolish fantasy of my younger self. And trust me, I felt how stupid it was," your eyes fell to your fingers, playing with a soft, earthy ball. "No one treats me like a scientist anymore."

And then, Yuki stood up.

Suddenly, reaching over the desk right to your shirt, before pulling you closer with a single move. Eyes fixed on yours like a deadly viper, and a sweet note of heavy perfumes hit your nostrils.

"Try it," she gritted through her teeth. "Accept my offer till I'm still begging. I don't want things to get messy, but I really need your help on this one."

And so, feeling rather threatened, you nodded swiftly and followed the kind smile that lifted up her lips.

Now, three years later, reflecting on that time, you never felt as happy and alive as you did then. Surrounded by the world's most exceptional scientists, working on alien, new microbes – the freshest discoveries in current scientific research – spending days and nights fuelled by bitter coffee, sitting in the labs.

The time didn't matter, as long as you could work on your research. To once again feel like a valuable input to the academic environment and a student from your PhD days, when the world was most beautiful under the microscope and while collecting the newest data.

Your heart raced during the meetings as your fingers carefully noted each idea, each plan that other scientists put forward. The greatest minds in the world, flooding your own with plans and speculations you could've never thought of. Your brain fired multiple times a day, always running, always getting fed with new questions and solutions.

Why is the sun dying?

How can we stop it?

How to produce enough fuel to go all the way right to the sun?

Is that even possible?

But then it was revealed that an alien microbe was composed entirely of water, and your world collapsed. Because it finally confirmed the very point you've been secretly trying to reject for years, proving to you that cells cannot survive without water.

Your heart broke, and a wave of shame washed over your spine. The shame connected to your younger self, foolishly believing in a greatness of discovery no one has ever made. Something worth the international conferences, massive grants, Nobel Prize, and yet, you needed a single, alien cell, something not belonging to the human world, to finally prove those old geezers from your committee right.

The white, big lamp of the lab flickered; darkness spilt over the endless night. Nothing but a faint buzz of mosquitoes filled the lab, hitting the window again, and again, and again. Hungry and relentless, looking at your body hunched over the failed experiment and slightly trembling lip.

You haven't noticed someone else's presence until something cold and wet touched your cheek. Turning the head around, you noticed a can of soda and Choso's pale fingers wrapped around it.

"Thanks," escaped in a whisper, as you took the drink.

He nodded, sitting on the stool right next to you. Your lab partner, who's been through your highs and lows for the past few weeks. The biggest encouragement and life support, always reminding you to eat well and drink something other than a third coffee in a row. He was another government body, Yuki's closest friend, yet – you liked him.

He felt the most normal here, and thus, your head rested on his shoulder, while hair covered the slightly wet cheeks.

"Are you crying?" he asked quietly.

Your head shook, and a second later, a loud sniff rolled. Choso chuckled, offering a tissue.

"Thank you, Cho," you mumbled, trying to hide the streaming tears behind the wide glasses.

He nodded, waiting for you to calm down a bit. The white lamp buzzed quietly, and the screen of the computer shone bright with your PhD dissertation. The thick letters of the title, with your name written right below.

Three hundred pages of bullshit born from your silly dreams. The Nobel Prize? Dear heavens, you barely deserved to be part of the current team.

"That's not the end of the world, you know?" he said, then pressed his cheek with tongue. "Hm, no. It actually is."

You laughed disgustingly, with a snort slipping out of your nose and another wave of tears streaming down your face. "I'm sorry," slipped almost silently. "I'm sorry, I proved you all wrong."

Choso sighed, looking at your sorry state. He pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and brushed away a single tear with a soft thumb. "No, you didn't. Now that we know what it's made of, you can think about another solution."

But there isn't another solution, you wanted to say, and instead bit down on your lower lip. The words bubbled in your throat, but a thin thread of hope still pulled at your heart. A faint wish that maybe this discovery wasn't a disaster. That the alien cell, made almost entirely of water, could somehow help with the mission.

That you could still prove yourself as a true scientist.

"Hey," Choso whispered, turning your face towards him. Deep, warm eyes shimmered with kindness as he offered a soft smile and gently pinched your cheek. "You are one of the smartest people I have ever met. I'm sure you can figure this out. Yuki believes in you. I believe in you." Staring into his eyes, you nodded with a pout. He chuckled and opened your soda with a quiet hiss. "Alright, let's call it a day and get back to it tomorrow. We still have time."

But the fact was that – you didn't.

And it was painfully obvious in how Yuki glanced into your lab every few days, asking about progress and results in halting the spread of alien microbes on the sun. Her neatly plucked eyebrows furrowed whenever you shook your head, and a short, stressed sigh escaped her rosy lips.

Try to hurry up, she would usually say, pulling a not-so-comforting smile.

Weeks went by, and everyone's stress increased. Yuki decided to set up a deadly mission, sending a team of astronauts to collect data personally.

The catch? They wouldn't return.

While there was enough fuel to reach the star teeming with alien microbes, there wasn't enough to return. Their goal was to collect the microbes, find a way to stop them from consuming the sun, and send all the data back to Earth.

The first time you heard about it, your knees almost buckled. It sounded outrageous, absolutely crazy, and the chance of finding someone mad and healthy enough to meet the requirements perfectly was already impossible.

And as it turned out, you were wrong.

The four astronauts were more than willing to sacrifice their lives for the greater good – to venture into the vast, endless space and perish there, in the company of strangers and eerie silence. To become saviours on a mission that could save the entire world.

Except, there was a risk the mission would fail.

Except, no one knew if they wouldn't lose their lives for nothing.

Because if that happened, if it turned out that all the money and sacrifices the government has invested in it would go to waste, the world would truly descend into shambles.

You stood against it from the very beginning, but You stood against it from the very beginning, but Yuki had already decided. And so there was nothing left to do but help the spaceship travel the twelve light-years towards the only star that was also dying, devoured by an alien microbe.

One hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres.

An unimaginably vast distance a simple mind could not grasp, yet you had to find a way to make it work. To figure out how to gather enough fuel to propel the massive, metal spaceship through every single kilometre.

And after a few weeks of getting yourself filled with coffee and nights spent outside the NASA base, gazing up into the endless darkness, you finally got it.

"The alien microbes possess unimaginable power," you said in one breath, looking like a madwoman. With hair twisted into a messy braid, hands shaking from too much caffeine, eyes glimmering as if possessed by Einstein himself. Your fingers gripped the black marker before drawing another black dot on the whiteboard. "You see, what we can do is allow the engines to feed the alien microbes into a reaction chamber and boil them to the point of natural breeding. This way, the cells will multiply and multiply, allowing us to use them in a much more efficient way," the black marker swooshed all over the board, drawing a crooked picture of the spaceship.

At least thirty pairs of eyes, seated in a conference room at NASA headquarters, stared into it with furrowed yet hopeful gazes. Yuki and Choso, among them, tried to understand the point you were making. The crazy discovery you had made mere hours earlier, before quickly asking for a meeting.

"Our ship doesn't need turbines, generators or heat exchangers, because there's no conventional fuel. It works as a sort of ship driven by light energy–"

"That's impossible," someone among the other scientists interrupted. "You cannot fuel a ship of such dimensions with light alone."

You nodded, whispering like a psycho under your breath, head buzzing with numbers. "Yes, you cannot do it with the sources we have here, on Earth. But," you turned back towards the whiteboard. "Our ship is not like the others, and the microbes allow us to actually use the light force as a fuel. Look, for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's third law, we all know it, right?" A few heads nodded in unison. "Well, our ship will emit light in one direction, while Newton's law will push it in the other. I know it used to work only in theory, but with the amount of power packed into a single microbe, we can use it for our good. In short, the alien power goes into the ship, the light comes out, and we can move forward."

A long, heavy silence filled the room as you finished your little drawing. Black lines coated the board, crossing the black dots and twisting around the childishly drawn ship. You pushed your glasses up your nose and tucked a strand of hair back behind your ear.

That was it. Nothing else could've been done on your side. If none of the scientists and governmental bodies believed your crazy plan could work, there was no other way to put the ship on a direct course towards that star.

Yuki sighed and looked around nervously. While people whispered, shook their heads, or took notes, no one offered you a warm nod or made direct eye contact. But it also seemed that no one else had a better idea.

"Are you sure it can work?" "Are you sure it can work?" Yuki asked, a heavy gaze lingering as warmth crept up your cheeks. "It's over a hundred and thirteen trillion kilometres. Are you sure the ship can be fuelled only by this alien microbe?"

Something weighed on your heart. Fear, panic, years spent believing you weren't good enough to become a real scientist. Those snickers from the PhD commission stating your research was useless. The rejections from one scientific conference after another, as no one wanted to accept your proposals.

Days spent on crying and staring at your dissertation, as if looking at it long enough would suddenly make it all worth it.

And then, under the cold light of the conference room, with thirty heads staring at you in blank mimicry, you needed to make a decision.

The one that would soon turn into a weight on your life.

"Yes," finally slipped. Strong and confident, as you corrected glasses slipping off your nose. "I can make it work."

But then…

But then the catastrophe came.

The betrayal.

Yuki apologising with utmost sincerity. Choso sitting quietly in the corner of her office. Three men keeping your body down.

From the moment you saw the space crew, one thought kept lingering in your mind. You dismissed it with a casual "they'll figure it out" wave, ignoring the instinct that indicated something was off – something that should have been clear from the start.

Why didn't the space crew have the scientist?

And a day before the departure, you finally discovered why.

"I'm sorry, I'm really so so sorry," Yuki said, trying to calm your wriggling body. The man's hands dug deep into your spine, keeping the hands and knees in place, with a cheek pressed to a dirty carpet. "We don't have any choice, and you wouldn't agree if I asked–"

"Of course I wouldn't!" you screamed, trying to bite the soft hand that reached towards you. "It's a fucking suicide! I'm a simple teacher; I can't go to a fucking space–ah, can you be a bit more gentle?!" But the men's fingers were already wrapping your hands with a thick rope. "Yuki, you can't do it to me!"

The woman didn't say anything. She merely opened her office door and beckoned someone inside. Wearing a white robe and holding a syringe between their fingers.

Your mind raced, breathing became almost impossible, and your throat clenched as you fought the sudden urge to vomit on the carpet. You tried to meet Choso's gaze, but he sat in the corner with his head in his hands, avoiding your gaze since you entered the office.

"Choso," you cried, as the doctor came closer. Long, thin needle shimmered under the office's cold lamp, sending a shiver down your spine. "Choso, l-look at me. You fucking coward, you bastard!" Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as the man sat like a stone figure. "You knew about it from the beginning, right? How could you do this to me?!"

Deep, warm eyes that you spent days gazing into finally looked up. Slightly wet, a bit hazy, while taking in the miserable state you found yourself in. Your glasses slightly crooked, lying a bit away from teary face. A few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks, arms twisted painfully behind back.

His fingers dug into the leather chair, as if trying to force himself to stay back.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't… I couldn't bring myself to tell you…"

"That I'm going for a fucking suicidal mission?!" you interrupted, still trying to kick the men off your body. "I thought we were friends! I trusted you! And you simply sold me away?"

Yuki shivered, her gaze shifting between coldness and heartbreaking warmth whenever she looked at your writhing body. She slipped her trembling hand into the pocket of her jeans before giving the doctor a small nod.

"N-No," you cried, when the man in white bent down. A sudden, sharp pain washed over your body, tickling the ends of your fingertips. "Please, I d-don't want to, I can't…"

And then, a weariness slowly filled your mind, lulling it into a deep sleep. Your body relaxed, eyes half-closed, as if weighted by the countless sleepless nights you had spent in labs.

The men lifted you up, keeping your head steady, but you didn't feel a thing. Your feet felt funny, light, as if blending into feathers. Some hushed voices started to argue, someone's warm hand brushed your cheek, and a heavy, musky smell filled your nostrils.

And before you lost consciousness, a silent save the earth sneaked into your ear.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

"Amazing," a low sigh slipped past your lips as you watched a massive ship slowly follow yours.

Monstrous, at least twenty times larger than the spaceship you called home for the past three years, which couldn't be contained within the small window you looked through. It appeared incredibly bright, almost as if it were made of glass, yet you couldn't see anything beyond the thick walls.

It's been shadowing you since yesterday, and it has been following you since yesterday, regardless of how long you travelled or how fast you went; it remained right there. Always in your line of sight from your window, constantly mirroring every move you make. 

It was… fascinating. To say at least.

A little frightening? Sure, as you were alone on a ship, with the crew long gone and drifting silently through the vast emptiness of space.

Bit still – fascinating. It marked the first time a human saw an object outside Earth. Majestic and otherworldly, it looked somewhat familiar yet vastly different. A faint cosmic glow shimmered on its diamond-like walls, casting short beams through your solitary window, as if attempting to communicate. As if the creature within tried to contact.

Still drifting slowly, you bit down on your lower lip. "Maybe I should stop?" you thought out loud, as another flicker of light hit your window. "What if they'll attack me?"

But at this point, already being alone on an impossible, suicidal mission, it seemed that an alien attack would be the least of your problems. In fact, maybe it would even sweeten your life a bit, and before meeting death, you would still have a chance to make the first human contact with life outside Earth.

"Okay," You took a deep sigh, pulling down the engine handle. "Let's see what you want from me."

Your ship stopped, and the monstrous glassed vehicle followed right away. With your forehead pressed to the window, you waited.

And waited, waited, till ten minutes passed and the ship stood still. Your tongue pressed against the soft cheek as you walked back and forth, awaiting any sign of activity. Yet, the vast galaxy outside remained tranquil, a gentle glow reflecting off the smooth, wall-like surface of the enormous ship. It lacked doors and windows, being just a glassy, shimmering exterior that–

"Oh no," your throat tightened as it drew closer. And closer, closer, swooshing towards you, something long slowly sliding out of the ship's tall wall. "Oh, that's bad, fuck."

A panic squeezed your heart, thoughts rushed through a tired mind, and there weren't enough cuticles on your nails to bite them all. The window was too small to see the thing clearly, but it seemed to be heading straight towards your ship's door. A long, shining tube swooshed closer and closer until your ship suddenly vibrated, as if gently brushing against a foreign object.

Your fingers fidgeted with the plush fabric of the shirt, while droplets of sweat made your glasses slide down your temple. With unsteady legs, you cautiously moved toward the astronaut's suit and started pulling it over your body. The zipper felt heavy under your touch, and the bubble-shaped helmet was more suffocating than usual. The oxygen backpack almost doubled your load as you headed toward the door, with heavy pounding in your chest.

Your heart was always perfectly healthy, and yet for the first time in your life, you tried to remember all the possible symptoms of a woman's heart attack.

Chest pain, severe shortness of breath, nausea, radiating pain in the neck and jaw, you counted in your mind, marking each and every sign in your current state.

"Fuck, okay," trembling, glove-coated hands squeezed the handle of the massive, metal door, before you pushed it. It opened with a low, soft creek, inviting you into the endless tunnel filled with darkness.

To your surprise, gravity worked here, and thus you dropped heavily onto the hard floor. A soft oh filled the helmet as you lifted the flashlight a bit higher. Something shimmered at the end of the darkness, yet you weren't sure what.

Your steps didn't echo from the thick walls as you slowly approached the entrance to the alien ship. Thoughts clashed painfully in your mind, questions rose one by one as you breathed with a squeezed chest under the weighty kilograms of a spacesuit.

How many of them were there?

What did they look like?

Were they friendly?

How quick and painful would your death be?

Your mind tried to ignore the last one, as the chance of a cardiac arrest before meeting an alien seemed much more likely. Fingers clutched the flashlight tighter, feet moved carefully, one step after another, sticking to the tunnel's crooked surface.

"Hello?" Your voice bounced off the walls, lined with terror. "Whoever you are, I come in peace!"

Oh, what a cheesy line, you thought, biting down on your lower lip.

After a few steps, the glimmering thing came fully into view, and only then did you notice it was a thick glass wall. Or at least something similar to glass, with a hard surface that stopped you from going any further.

Glove-clothed hand touched it, helmet bumped against it, as you tried to light the darkness spilling behind it.

"Hello?" slipped a bit louder, with your fist knocking on the glass. "Anyone there?"

A silence, dull and endless, filled an eerie tunnel. Looking back, you took a note that your spaceship was still there – safe and sound – and you let out a deep sigh. It's not as if it would suddenly float away, but–

A heavy thump suddenly shook the tunnel's floor.

Your head snapped back, breath hitched, fingers squeezed with a tremble around the flashlight.

"H-Hello?"

The light reflected off something towering and shimmering, slowly moving toward you in a relaxed, unhurried manner, nearly as tall as the tunnel itself. A bluish halo beamed off the creature's body, filling the dark space with a soft aura.

You stepped back, trying to direct a flickering beam straight at the thing coming your way, but your hand trembled too much. The heart was on the verge of stopping, and dread haunted the mind as it drew closer, revealing its height. At least two and a half metres, brushing the ceiling of the tunnel's crooked walls, filling the narrow space with its wide body.

And when the light caught on their face… oh.

The pale blue skin shimmered softly under a luminous glow. It appeared unnaturally smooth, soft, and a sudden, foolish wish to brush it with your thumb swirled inside your mind. White, snowy hair touched the handsome forehead, while nearly inhumanly pale-blue eyes gazed down at your spacesuit-covered body. You looked tiny and short in comparison, with a gloved hand once more resting on the glass wall.

The creature was dressed in a white suit, clinging tightly to its body and digging deep into the hard muscles bulging under its skin. Alien's head tilted, knees bent down, and within a second, it found itself on eye-level with you.

White lashes decorating endless, luminous blue fluttered, as if trying to take in the terror twisting your face.

"⊑⟒⌰⌰⍜," a low, manly voice crept past the glass.

Your eyes bulged like two porcelain plates, fingers pressed closer to the wall.

So he was a man.

Well, you could already figure that much based on his looks, but the warm tone slipping under your bubble helmet was evidence enough.

Your mind didn't register the language at first, but when his soft brow travelled up, and lips curled in a smile, you thought that maybe he was awaiting an answer.

"Oh, um," you took a step back, waving your hand clumsily. "Hello."

The creature's head tilted again, and he mimicked your gesture.

You blinked twice, still struggling to believe the situation you're in. "Uh, okay, what now?" you whispered. "I am..." You pointed at your head and said your name clearly and loudly. "What about you?"

"⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑ ⊑⟒⍀⟒," the creature said, and a wave of different sounds and tones once again hit your ears.

You sighed, pressing tongue against your cheek. "Right, it's not going to work."

He looked at you, and you looked at him. You, with a slightly furrowed forehead and your mind rushing through all the possible ways to communicate with the alien. He, with lips curled cheekily and pale eyes fixed on your face.

"I wouldn't mind your cooperation, you know?" you mumbled, but he tipped his head left and right, like a curious puppy.

"⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒," the same sounds once again slipped past the glass wall.

His head was tipping and tilting, and a second had passed before you finally understood that he wanted to say something.

"What? I don't understand," you said, mimicking his movements.

And thus both of you were shaking and tilting your heads, going over and over the same ⊬⍜⎍ ☊⏃⋏ ⏚⍀⟒⏃⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⟒⍀⟒,and I don't understand.

His brows furrowed as if irritated, and large hand touched his chest. He took a deep breath – first and second – then pointed at his head and finally at yours.

Oh.

"You want me to..." you gestured as if removing the helmet. A quiet chuckle escaped him, and eyes glinted. "But I can't breathe here."

He didn't understand and thus pointed at your head once again. "⏁⏃☍⟒ ⟟⏁ ⍜⎎⎎."

Your head shook. "Whatever you say, I cannot take it off. Because I will…" Your hands slipped up to your throat before a wave of trembling convulsions bent your body. It wriggled, shook, before, with a theatrical cough, you fell down the crooked floor.

The creature was staring at you with a furrowed forehead and a gentle flicker of amusement coiling in his spectral eyes.

"Not the best first impression, I know," you muttered, swiftly standing up. "My point is, I can't breathe without it."

But it seemed he either didn't understand or was simply relentless in his pleadings. As the long fingers hit the glass wall, pointing right at your head. Another deep breath slipped past his lips, and he nodded, as if trying to say it was fine. Whatever he filled the tunnel with, you could breathe here.

And thus, the thought of what if slipped quietly into your mind.

What if he was right?

What if he really did fill your half of the tunnel with oxygen?

But what if he was wrong, and the moment the helmet would go off, you would die in inhumane suffering?

Light blue eyes shone with anticipation, lips curled into an encouraging smile, and a finger pressed harder into the glass wall.

You took a deep breath, feeling the droplets of sweat coiling at the nape of your neck. He seemed to be a highly intelligent creature, with the ability to communicate as well as you and a rather comprehensive understanding of the differences between your species. For some reason, trusting him felt almost natural, and the assuring look of his spectral gaze made you drop your head with a sigh.

When fingers hooked on the helmet's edges, your heart was nearing its death. Chest squeezed painfully, eyes closed till the eyelids dug deep into your balls. The sweat was now dripping down your spine, wetting the nape of your neck and shirt that clung to your body under the heavy spacesuit.

"Okay," you whispered, both to yourself and him, and it seemed that he was rather amused by the agony twisting your mind. When he chuckled, your brows furrowed. "Don't laugh. There's a rather big chance this air will burn me from the inside."

And so it happened – your fingers slowly unclasped the neck ring, allowing the pressurised seal to loosen with a soft puf. The bubble helmet was lifted unhurriedly, as if your lungs were still trying to grasp the rest of the oxygen swirling inside it.

With still closed eyes, you took the first breath. And the second, and the third, and then, looking back at the alien, a sweet, loud scoff slipped past your lips, and flushed cheeks.

"⌇⟒⟒, ⟟ ⏁⍜⌰⎅ ⊬⍜⎍," he chuckled, pressing his forehead to the glass wall.

Still in shock, you stepped closer, also touching the warm, crystal surface with your brows. "Sure, whatever you say."

You looked at each other for a while, with beaming smiles and foreheads almost brushing as you leaned in, a rather intimate gesture. It seemed that the first meeting with another species broke down some specific walls for both of you. The curiosity and fascination with one another blurred the lines of proper manners, breaching all the careful first steps you surely should think of.

His eyes flickered, suggesting a new idea had just come to him. He raised a finger and gestured for you to stay put. After your gentle nod, he vanished into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving you alone with your thoughts swirling in your mind.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and as you sat on the crooked floor and took off the heavy spacesuit, he finally came back, with something gripped by his hand.

You looked closer, noticing the collar-like device and a small earplug. He placed it inside his ear while wrapping the collar around the pale neck. A faint, crispy sound filled his side of the tunnel, and milky brows furrowed as he pressed onto the device in his ear.

And then, with a gesture, he asked you to say something.

"Um," your head tilted, and he sat right in front of you, waiting with a soft smile. "You are rather pretty for an alien."

His fingers still pressed the small device, and after a second, cheekiness flickered in his eyes. "Am I, question? You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

To say you froze in shock would be an understatement.

Your lips parted, eyebrows nearly touching hairline, as body leaned forward before your hand pressed against the glass wall. You didn't know whether you were more surprised by either his ability to speak your language or the casual compliment that caused your cheeks to heat up.

"You can…" You shook your head, barely breathing. "But how is it…"

He pointed at his ear. "This device recognises your language," then gestured to his neck. "And connects with this. Whenever I speak in my language, this collar converts it into yours."

A soft ah slipped past your lips, eyes fixed on the thin, crystal band made of a sort of rubber material. Your finger brushed the glass wall, as if trying to feel the device beneath it.

Your brows furrowed when another issue started to bite into your curiosity. "But how do you know my language? How did you build this translator? Our species never made contact."

He sat closer, pressing his forehead to the glass again. At this point, you started to wonder whether it was a sort of typical signal from his species, carrying a special, unknown meaning. And when he beamed with joy, you noticed little white droplets shining faintly, sprinkled around his cheeks. Was this an equivalent of a blush?

"You didn't with us," he pressed a finger to yours, and only then did you see the true, monstrous size of his hand. "But the Reds had been studying you for years."

The reds…

"Oh gosh!" A gasp ripped out of your throat as you covered your mouth with a hand. His head tilted. "The Reds, you mean, Martians?"

"Why are you shocked, question?" he asked, carefully eyeing as you quickly stood up and started walking back and forth between the walls.

Your mind pulsed, trying to comprehend everything that had happened over the past hour. The strange spaceship, the first-ever human contact with life beyond Earth, the final confirmation that aliens did, in fact, kidnap people and conduct experiments on them.

"I'm shocked, because humans never made any contact with life outside our planet," you said, biting down on a fingernail. "How long have you known the Reds?"

A low hum slipped past his lips, and smooth, blue forehead creased. "Five hundred years, I say."

"What?!" Your knees buckled as you once again sat in front of him, with hands and forehead and breasts pressed tightly to a glass wall. "Five hundred years? How is that possible? Are your planets close to each other?"

His head shook, but forehead remained wrinkled. "Humans are very underdeveloped."

You chuckled softly, noticing small, adorable language mistakes the translator made here and there. It's still, robotic voice muffled the creature's deep tone, and something squeezed your heart, as you surprisingly discovered that the honeyed warmth of his tone wrapped your mind in a rather pleasing manner.

"Yes, it seems so." Your head turned, with flushed cheeks pressed to the wall. "But till now I had no idea how far behind we are."

He stayed quiet for a moment before tapping gently on the wall. Your eyes slipped back to his, noticing the droplets sprinkled across his face, radiating adorably like flickering stars.

"My name is Satoru," rolled quietly, as the shimmering dust coated his cheeks ever wider. "Your name, question?"

When you said it slowly, he nodded, still tapping on the surface. Right against your pressed hand. "That's a very beautiful name."

"Yours is not bad either."

He hummed, as if in agreement.

Your head grew heavier and heavier, and the warmth was gently trying to coax you into sleep. As you yawned, Satoru's ghostly eyes carefully followed the exhaustion clouding your forehead.

"Are you tired, question?"

His throat bobbed when you giggled. "You don't have to add a question at the end of each ask, you know?"

You assumed that, because of his grammar rules, he needed to emphasise the difference between normal sentences and inquiries. You've noticed that his language sounded much more melodic than yours, yet it lacked the upward pitch humans use.

"But I am tired, thank you for asking." Looking over your shoulder, you've noticed that your ship was, fortunately, still there. "How about I go to sleep, and we'll get back to our talk in a few hours?"

You slowly stood up and grabbed your heavy spacesuit. Glasses slipped off your nose, and hair stuck to still-warm cheeks, as you lifted up the flashlight and… oh.

It seemed that you missed the sudden sorrow deepening between Satoru's brows. Eyes widened in panic, big palms plastered to the wall with lips just slightly opened, as he looked with a fearful expression at your attempt to move away from the wall. From him.

"Satoru–"

"Can you please sleep here?" His voice trembled, although the translator's robotic tone remained unwavering.

You looked around the tunnel, feeling the crooked ground bending beneath your feet and the dark walls emitting a deep, earthy smell. "I don't think that's a good idea, Satoru." A warm smile lifted your lips as you turned towards your spaceship. "But don't worry, I'll be back. Sleep for a bit, and before you'll notice, I'll–"

"Please," the anxiety filling his shaken voice stabbed right through your heart. "Please let me watch you sleep."

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing him in the same position. With hands pressed against the wall and eyebrows furrowed deeply.

"Watch me sleep?"

He nodded. "I… I didn't watch my crew sleep. The crew died. Satoru has been alone for the past forty years." Your lips fell open, but he quickly added, as if afraid you'd refuse again. "I watch you sleep, you won't die."

Seeing his face – filled with anxiety, pure fear, and misery – you could only smile softly and nod. As the mere thought of this man spending over forty years in space all alone tore your heart apart in the most inhumanely painful way.

"Yes, okay," barely pushed past your lips, before you cleared your throat. "Just let me bring my stuff."

You quickly changed into pyjamas, gathered a few blankets, a pillow and enough water for the night, before going back to the warm tunnel.

And then, as you drew closer to the glassy wall, you noticed a slight change in its shape. As during the five minutes you were gone, Satoru had prepared a special shelf for your body to lie right next to him. With his own feather-like blanket, he lay on his side, waiting for you to slip into the long space and hug him.

You giggled, filling the space with your own things. "That's quite intimate, Satoru."

His body was much taller than the width of the tunnel, and thus, he curled his legs a bit before trying to get even closer to you. "What does intimate mean, question?"

With head hitting the soft pillow and blanket covering your body, you turned his way. Nothing but a thick crystal wall kept you away from brushing noses with each other.

"It means that you're trying to be romantic with someone," but then you thought he might also not understand what romantic means. "Hm, it's when you do nice things for a certain person that you wouldn't do for anyone else. For example, make a special bed to be closer to someone."

A soft crease wrinkled his forehead, and the peacefulness of his eyes told you that he was deeply thinking. "I wouldn't do it for anyone other than you."

The sincerity beaming from his eyes was enough to assure you of the innocent truthfulness of his words. So you sighed, nuzzling deep into the pillow, hoping he didn't notice the warmth on your cheeks.

"That's very romantic, you know? Something you would say to your special someone."

"To your mate, question?"

You hummed, softly closing eyes. His presence somehow made your body tingle with a pleasant warmth, allowing the sleep to haunt your mind in a much softer, calmer way. In a way, you didn't feel for a long, long time, spending days in loneliness and a maddening need to feel someone else's warmth again.

You couldn't feel Satoru's heat, yet your heart fluttered fondly as his gaze truly watched you sleep.

"Yes, although humans don't mate."

"Why, question?"

When you giggled – sweetly, kindly – droplets coating Satoru's cheeks lighted up. Solely for a second, but it was enough to make him slip closer, and closer, and closer, till the glass wall was digging painfully into his body, and his heart still rushed your way.

You bubbled something under your nose. An answer he could not hear. With your lips falling open and a crystal string of saliva dripping down the soft pillow.

His finger pressed against the glass, as if wishing to brush it away.

And when another five minutes passed, a soft snoring filled your side of the tunnel. Breath calmed down, and body drew closer to his. Trying to curl into his – big, burning hot, utterly dangerous for yours.

"I watch you sleep," he whispered, brushing the glass with your pressed cheek. "You never die."

𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

Satoru was much more intelligent than you expected.

It's not that you treated him as beneath you, but the true power of his mind exceeded your expectations.

And as it turned out, he was in the same situation as you – researching the alien microbes that were also eating his sun. Except that his species discovered the problem forty years before yours, and thus a wave of panic washed over your mind. Because if a creature like Satoru couldn't find the solution to the problem that apparently touched not just Earth but the whole universe, you wouldn't do it either.

One difference between you and Satoru was that, as an engineer, he could actually do things himself. Simply produce them, with all the glassed walls and tiny models of planets made from a strange, gluey substance that rolled off his fingers. He wasn't a scientist like you, so when he heard that you were the "brain" of the crew, his eyes flickered. 

"We can work together," he proposed, already considering the path to the only planet not consumed by alien microbes. Since it wasn't infected, it suggested there was something in its atmosphere that enabled it to withstand the lethal bacteria. "You will be the mastermind of the entire operation, I will develop the sources. Also, I have spent forty years here, so I know how to navigate."

His eyes were fixed on creating another little planet, rolling the gluey strings between his pads, moulding them into a ball and waiting until the substance dried into a crystal orb. After a few days, your glassy wall had advanced enough to have a small opening for a shelf where you could exchange little presents.

Although you forgot that Satoru's atmosphere was close to boiling lava in temperature, when your hands accidentally brushed, a nasty, red bump was left on the skin of your thumb.

He put the ball on the shelf and moved his hand away so you could grab it.

"Which planet is it?" you wondered, brushing the crystal surface.

He tsked – something he learnt from you mere hour ago – and mumbled. "The earth, of course."

A scoff escaped your lips, and warmth spilt over the heart. "We're not that small."

"I believe you are."

"And we have more greenery."

He wondered, this time building a small spaceship. Your spaceship. "I would like to see it."

Some things have become clearer after spending the past few days in Satoru's presence. His planet was one of the closest to the sun, wrapped in a dense atmosphere that protected its inhabitants from being burned alive. As Satoru said, the days merged with the nights, and it was always rather dark – hence the pale, almost spectral eyes he and other inhabitants had. There was little to no greenery, and the water system had long been sustained by technologies developed by engineers like him.

"A lot of sand", he once said, and you wondered whether it would look like anything close to the climate of Arab countries.

His head tilted then, and eyes flickered with curiosity. "How do Arab countries look, question?"

You tried to describe the endless desert plains, the crimson sun, the curling droplets of sweat on your neck, and the nights filled with beaming joy as best you could. The feel of warm sand under your feet, sea brushing the skin sweetly and fresh dates melting on your tongue in sugary pleasure.

He listened, with eyes following the curve of your lips and fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

"I would love to see it," he muttered, poking the glass wall with his finger. "It sounds beautiful."

You giggled, following the pale blue of his skin. Soft and shiny, it reminded you more of a region bitten by cold than of the merciless atmospheric temperature of over two hundred degrees Celsius.

"You're rather pale for someone living right next to the sun."

He scoffed, with fingers still creating the small spaceship. In the meantime, you leaned against the crooked tunnel's wall, with a laptop on your thighs, trying to plan the route towards the only "safe" planet.

"I'm not pale. I'm blue."

"That was a joke," you shoot him a glance, seeing the irritated squint of his eyes. "It means that the thing I say is supposed to be funny. You should laugh."

A low, awkward chuckle rolled off his lips, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. Satoru knew how to express his joy, but it seemed he didn't quite possess the humour you did.

The moment has passed, and a comfortable silence stretched between the two of you. He was mapping the galaxy, while you tried to work out whether your ship still had enough fuel to travel that far. It would take you months to reach that planet, but there seemed to be no other choice. After that mission, the fuel will run out, and you, just as planned, will die here – somewhere in the embrace of endless space.

A low sigh slipped past your lips, catching Satoru's attention. "Are you tired, question?"

Your head shook, and a few strands of hair fell loosely from a pinup. "I would love to invite you to my ship. There's a room where we can watch movies and stuff. I'm sure I can find something about Egypt."

And so…

You've also learned over the past few days that Satoru took everything seriously.

In the most genuine and firm understanding of this word.

Two weeks have passed since your meeting. One morning, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in nothing but panties and a loose shirt while brushing your teeth, a deep, gravelly rumble shook the entire spaceship.

Your heart leapt into your throat, eyes bulged, and you dashed out of the room with wet hair and bare feet. With all the prayers you've learnt as a child repeating in your mind over and over again, as you run towards the entrance of the ship.

Did you somehow get unsealed from the tunnel?

Did something hit the ship and cause the irreparable damage that would cost you your life?

Fuck, did–

But when you finally got into the room connected with an entrance, with toothpaste smeared all over your cheek and glasses falling crookedly off your nose, a low gasp slipped past your lips.

"Satoru?!"

Because the pale-bluish creature himself stood in the middle of your spaceship, locked in a…

"And you're in a ball?" Like a hamster, wanted to join, but he probably wouldn't know what a hamster is.

Standing right in front of you, fully upright, with long legs wrapped in a white suit and a muscular back bulging under the stretched material – he appeared even more monstrous than usual. A creature over two metres tall, looking all over your place with amusement shining in his eyes, his gaze following all your dirty panties spread across the floor.

"Yep, so I won't die in your atmosphere," long fingers knocked the crystal ball, before lips curved in a cheeky smile. "Can I smell it, question? I want to know how your body smells. Put it to the shel–"

A sudden warmth had hit your cheeks, and throat tightened around the remnants of the toothpaste. "Absolutely not! It's very not polite of you to ask such things."

He started walking around in a large ball that barely fit the corridors of your spaceship, its hard walls brushing against each and every machine, piece of furniture, and console on its way. He strolled freely, dropping different comments here and there, while you followed him and picked up all your clothes.

"So dirty," he snapped, pushing a loud scoff from your throat.

"I didn't expect the guests!"

But he ignored you, as your bedroom appeared somewhere within the line of his sight. Blue cheeks shone with crystal droplets, and white, fluffy hair almost stood on end with excitement. Before you could stop him, long legs swiftly moved towards your bedroom, taking in every little, dirty, detail – more panties, a small mattress, a few books lying scattered all over the floor.

"Is that our nest, question?" He looked around before parking his ball next to your mattress. He sat down, leaning against the floor, and finally shot you a look. "I like it."

With a deep, weariness-filled sigh, you returned to the bathroom, cleaned yourself, and re-entered the bedroom. Soft light reflected off the glistening droplets on his cheeks as he probed the fabric of your panties with his finger. Only then did you realise that the ball, despite being firm, was quite flexible, enabling him to slide his fingers through its surface, which was covered in a sticky, shimmering coating that shielded his skin from the oxygen.

You took the material away from his curious gaze and pushed it back into your bag.

"Satoru, what are you doing here?" slipped rather harshly as you sat down on your bed.

He seemed to be confused by your tone, tilting the fluffy head with a furrow. "Are you mad, question?"

You knew that getting angry with him, while he was still learning to recognise human emotions, was silly. Stupid, even, and you felt as if you were shouting at the poor puppy. Except that this puppy was much taller than you and probably weighed twice your weight.

With a sigh, you fell back on the mattress and covered your face with an arm. "Sorry, I'm not mad. Just… surprised. I didn't expect you would come up my ship."

He tried to roll closer, but the space was too small to allow him any other movements than going back and forth from the entrance to your mattress. So he stayed in place, trying to observe the expression on your face.

"I can't see you like that," he noted.

Another thing you've learnt about his species was how important contact and intimacy are. Not even sexual ones, but rather a simple need to always be with someone. To communicate while looking right into their eyes, to feel their skin on theirs, and to follow the movements of their lips. To feel the presence of another creature next to them, even if the only thing you did was sleep next to each other.

So another sorry slipped past your lips, and you sat again, showing Satoru your face. He slightly lightened up before pressing a hand to the crystal ball.

"You said, and I quote, I would love to invite you to my ship," he noted with utmost seriousness, and you rolled your eyes. "So I came."

Well, he was right. You did say that, and you did wish there were a way to bring him into your ship. Travelling together would be much easier if both of you were on one ship, so amidst the pure chaos and shock he caused, you quite enjoyed the fact that he could live here.

With you.

"Okay," your hand pressed to the ball, filling half of his palm. "But we need to set up some rules first. First, we don't sleep in the same bedroom–"

"But I must watch–"

"Satoru," you interrupted him, seeing the pale eyes slip into the sorrowfulness. "You have excellent hearing and even more excellent sight. I'm sure you can watch me sleep while staying next door." A grim twisted his face, and a low mumble filled his little bubble. Too quiet for the translator to catch, so you chuckled sweetly, seeing his brattiness surface. "Okay. The second rule – you can't sniff my panties. It's something… reserved only for mates."

And, well, if that didn't fire him up – with eyes suddenly beaming in excitement and droplets twinkling one by one, like a tiny mingling stars. You felt as if you had challenged him, and thus quickly added. "And because we are not mates, you cannot do it. It's too intimate."

"I want to be intimate."

A sudden flush hit your cheeks, and warmth spread beneath your chest. "No, Satoru, you don't understand. It's about sexual intimacy. Something you share while…" saying it out loud felt like giving a biology lesson to elementary school kids. "Mating… with your special someone. When you, well, have sex and stuff. Do you know–"

He chuckled low, a sly smile lifting his lips. "I know what mating is."

Something in your lower belly bubbled, seeing him like that. Tall and strong, spreading a slightly possessive and dominating aura. With eyes full of bratty cheekiness and something, something, slightly sensual dripping from his voice.

"Well, so you know that we can't do it," You moved back, taking your palm away from the crystal ball. "Let's work on our plan and try to find a way to save the world."

And with a slight dissatisfaction, Satoru finally agreed.

But the next months spent in his presence were… interesting. To say at least.

Every day brought new surprises, which sometimes ended with your body blushing from head to toes, sometimes him getting shy and flustered, while still trying to keep up the cocky demeanour.

He was nothing less than excellent when it came to engineering and helping with the travel itself, also being an amazing companion for the long, daring journey.

Soon he resigned from constant stay in a ball and filled the interior of your spaceship with long corridors of crystal, making himself at home. Whenever you were – he was right next. Be it a bedroom, control room, kitchen or…

"Satoru!" You quickly covered your breasts with your hands, seeing him walking into the bathroom with the most casual demeanour.

A plate of some weird substance, he was always eating for supper, and a white suit half unzipped, showing off his muscular, blue chest. He leaned against the door, spectral eyes slowly following your naked body. From legs up to hips, staying longer on the gentle swell of your ass and the mould of your pussy, before going up, and up, to the breasts covered by your trembling fingers. "Sweetheart is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

"Sweetheart" because he really wished to call you something human pairs use for each other. Even though at least three times a week, you needed to remind him that you, in fact, were not a pair.

A muffled, surprised scoff escaped your lips. You pointed to the exit with one hand, forgetting it was clutching one of your breasts. When the silky swell smoothly slipped from your grasp, bouncing gently before his eyes, he moved closer, already pushing a finger through the stretching wall.

"Can I–"

You smacked it, once again showing the exit. "Satoru! You can't walk on me while I'm naked."

"Why, question?" he asked, relentlessly trying to get closer to your body. With a finger poking the wall, that unfortunately couldn't stretch enough to even brush your skin. "Come a bit closer."

Something in your belly bubbled, warmth spread across your chest, and a single, dirty thought of letting him touch you bloomed in your mind. After all, sexual needs and anatomy were among the things all researchers wished to know about foreign species. And because Satoru was of the same, curious kind as you…

"It's too early, out!"

His head tilted, and lips curved into a foxy smile. "It's eight in the evening."

"No, I mean, we're not close enough to do such stuff."

He knocked on the crystal wall. "Sweetheart, but I can't get closer."

Oh god.

You sighed, finally letting the other tit bounce softly too. Leaning against the small shelf, you glanced at him with a frown. He, however, looked anywhere but into your eyes. Rude.

"Our relationship is not on that level…" yet. "What you want to do is too intimate. Sexual." And then, a sudden curiosity spiked your mind. "Satoru, how does the… mate thing look like among your species?"

His eyes finally slipped up to yours. "We choose one mate for a whole life."

Well, that was rather clear.

"What about the, you know…" You gestured awkwardly, partially at your still naked body.

"The mating," he finished. But as if feeling the spike in your curiosity, with round eyes ogling his naked chest and slipping shyly towards his hips, he bubbled a low chuckle. "Come closer, and I will show you."

What a brat!

With the last tsk and a dirty look shot his way, you turned back towards the mirror and finished your quick, morning "shower". Even while using rinseless soap and water pouches to clean your body, you still felt Satoru's presence behind you.

Deep blue eyes following the curve of your body, back muscles working beneath the soft skin, and when you bent over to rinse your face, a sudden, sharp breath escaped his throat.

You didn't have to look back to know that he was looking straight at your pussy.

"It's wet," he mumbled, coming closer. And closer, until his finger once again tried to evade the stretching wall, too short to even brush the swell of your ass.

You hummed, trying to hide an embarrassed warmth kissing your neck. "It's a natural lubrication. It usually happens when a woman is…" oh fuck it. "Excited."

He seemed charmed, completely bewitched, and some part of you wished the temperature between your bodies wasn't over two hundred degrees Celsius. As the moment Satoru's hands touched your skin, you weren't sure whether calling it the third burn would be enough.

"Why is sweetheart excited, question?"

With your body leaning forward and hands resting on the shelf, you looked back, eyes slightly hazy, wetness dripping down your thigh. A silken droplet swirled down your leg, and Satoru's always oh-so-attentive eyes, of course didn't miss it.

"I want the taste," he mumbled, and only then did you notice a bulge, trying to rip free from beneath the white spacesuit covering his hips.

You took a deep breath, bending yourself lower and lower, till he could clearly see your cunt shining with silky wetness.

"I'm excited," you started, voice dripping with sensuality. "Because of you."

As if awaiting this exact answer, his eyes, for just a second, ripped themselves away from your soft pussy and looked up. To cross with yours – slightly teary, a bit too warm.

"I want to–"

You turned around, once again leaning against the shelf. A low groan escaped his throat, as he no longer could see your pussy in its fullness. The little pout twisting his lips made you giggle, but a tricky, dirty thought has slipped into your mind.

"How about this?" You took a step, then another, until you stood right in front of him. Much closer than before, but not close enough to let him brush your skin. "I will let you touch me. Watch me…" You coughed, feeling this wind of bravery leave your body as quickly as it had come. "Masturbate. And you'll let me do it too."

Satoru's lips fell open, eyes sparkled in excitement. "I thought the intimacy was only for mates. Are we mates then, question?"

"Let's call it friend with benefits."

His eyes narrowed. "We don't do such things with friends."

You scoffed, pushing your hip to the side and biting the inside of your cheek. "Well, we do, so you can either accept it or not."

And seeing that this time his bratty stubbornness wouldn't work, Satoru nodded.

A few minutes later, you found yourself in the most embarrassed, going-straight-to-the-grave position you could imagine. With elbows supporting your body on the bedroom's mattress, legs spread open, and pussy pressed against the crystal wall. The slippery juices coated the surface, making Satoru breathe much, much harder than before. With fingers wrapped around the biggest, most monstrous cock you've ever seen.

You needed a moment to take in the sight that sprang up in front of your eyes after he took off the rest of the suit. Massive, veiny shaft, with a swelled protrusion at his base, probably used while mating. The blue skin was peppered with similar droplets sprinkled on his cheeks, and shimmered faintly whenever he looked down at your cunt.

Small and fluttering, with your hole squeezing around nothing and clit swelled from excitement.

The penetrative gaze of his made you warm up even more. "Satoru, touch me," slipped like an order.

His long finger brushed the crystal wall and pushed – gently, carefully, till he felt a soft button under his pad and heard a low moan escape your lips.

He dreamed of feeling the gummy structure of your pussy. To roll the clit between his fingers, without any surface protecting his body. To lower himself down and smell, lick, taste the dripping cum that in his mind was sweeter than anything he had ever tried.

And it should be noted that he had quite refined taste buds.

His other hand pumped his massive cock in slow strokes, enjoying the sight spreading in front of him much more than the feeling of his fingers wrapped around the dripping shaft.

"Does it feel good, question?" He asked, hearing another moan fill the small bedroom.

"Y-yeah, ahh, try to make gentle circles," slipped faintly, as you started to roll nipples between your fingers.

His thumb pressed against your clit harder, making your feet curl and legs spread even wider. As if trying to invite his massive cock, that would surely rip you in half.

Maybe the fact that you couldn't touch each other wasn't that bad. Because if he somehow found a way to fuck you with this size, you sure would feel it up in your throat.

And thus you enjoyed the sight spreading in front of your eyes – his beefy thighs bulging whenever you jolted under his thumb, pearly cum dripping down the blue skin, long fingers squeezing the veiny meat as he still oh-so-carefully rubbed your clit.

"It's getting wetter," he noticed, biting the inside of his cheek. "I want to taste you."

His low voice made your body melt under his fingers, forcing your thighs to spread wider and wider, while chasing the pleasure bubbling in your belly. Your hole fluttered around nothing, and a sheer sight of his cock spun your mind in crazy wish to get yourself stretched around it. To feel every vein scratch your tight walls, till the drenched head would kiss your swelling womb.

"Fuck, wait, I have an idea," you backed out, crawling towards your bag.

Crazy, stupid, nasty plan slipped into your head, as you took out a mid-size, creamy dildo. With a sucking pad at the end, and a slightly curved head. It wasn't yours, as you somehow found it among the things… oh well, does it really matter? It was clean and had been bathed in antiseptic spray multiple times; thus, using it was not disgusting at all.

But when Satoru saw it, his breath hitched. Eyes slipped down to his cock, and forehead furrowed. "Why is it so small, question?"

You chuckled, sticking it to the crystal wall. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's the average size of a human's dick."

He followed your body as you once again spread your legs open and brushed the silicone cock through your folds a few times. Drenching it all in your juices, and Satoru, since learning the meaning of jealousy, felt something unpleasant bubble in his heart. Because he wished to be the one making your pussy flutter around his head and push it inside, till your sugary walls would clamp around his fat cock.

Your forehead furrowed, eyes glistened from prickling tears as his thumb once again landed on your clit. But this time, the pleasure was twice as intense. With a silicone dick stretching your tight pussy and his finger rubbing you in slow, maddening circles.

"I could make you feel better," he groaned, hearing another pitched moan slip past your lips. "This pathetic thing is now worthy to be inside my sweetheart."

With rising irritation, he pressed your clit harsher. Till a tremble washed over your body and back hit the mattress, as you rolled your cunt to feel the dildo go deeper. But Satoru was right – his cock would indeed make you feel better.

Your hands slipped up to your breasts, pinching the hard buds and chasing the maddening pleasure bubbling in your lower belly.

A deep frown creased Satoru's forehead, and he gently squeezed your clit. "I can't see your face."

"R-right, sorry–ahhh," A cry rolled off your tongue as you once again leaned on your elbows. "Satoru, it feels so good, mhmm."

His cock was more flushed than before, with a cherry tip spilling the heavy, thick droplets all over his hand. He pumped it madly, never once taking his eyes off your lovely face. With pleasure twisting your brows and teary eyes fixed upon his.

"S-Satoru, I, fuck, I'm going to cum," the silicone cock kissed your cervix, smooching it wetly with hefty, gluey cum sipping from your hole.

You tried to imagine getting split open on his cock. Being filled by his cum, with creamy saps stuffing your swelling womb and pumping your belly full. Getting manhandled by his muscular arms and wide back, as he would fold you into a mating press and push into the mattress. Till each and every spring would painfully dig into your spine.

So with a final cry, you came.

With a loud cry, spine arching into the sweetest curve, and a sprinkling of sweetness gushing all over his thumb, although it was a true pity that he couldn't feel it. Your body trembled and lips fell open, seeing a furrow cloud his forehead and fingers tightening around his cock.

And then, an idea slipped quietly into your mind.

"Wait a minute, don't cum yet," you muttered, taking a pair of panties lying on your bed. With a single, dirty move, you rubbed them against your drenched folds, gathering all the creamy cum and honeyed sweetness.

Satoru… dear heavens.

When a flimsy material landed inside the shelf, quite similar to the one he installed in a tunnel, Satoru's fingers snapped forward and snatched it. He brought it closer to his nose, lips, feeling your precious wetness and the rich flavour burst right onto his tongue, as a low, primal groan escaped his throat.

"Mhmm, s-so, ahh, tastes so sweet," a muffled cry was almost incomprehensible with your panties filling his mouth.

The head of his cock pulsed, massive balls constricted whenever his tongue took another lick of your fresh cum and eyes… oh, eyes stayed on you.

On your breasts coated in sheer sweat, thighs still spread open and a little, minx smile twisting your lips. Satoru was sure he could cum only at the sheer sight of your angelic face, and thus, after a few more harsh pumps and muffled cries, he came. Loud and heavy, with creamy ropes shooting all over his glimmering skin and fully emptying everything he has been keeping far too long.

What a waste, you both thought, wishing it landed somewhere far, far sweeter and warmer. Deep inside your womb, preferably.

A moment has passed, with a small bedroom filled with your heavy breaths and shy glances, looking everywhere but at your cum-coated bodies. With a faint cough, you finally closed your thighs and covered yourself with a blanket.

Blooming loveliness crept up your cheeks, and suddenly looking at Satoru required far more courage and calm than it had merely thirty minutes ago.

Before you could ask whether he needed a towel, his low voice spoke first. "Are we mates now, question?"

He said sheepishly, lifting your panties with a finger.

You groaned and fell on a mattress with his chuckle tickling your burning ears.

You didn't want to destroy this moment, even though you knew your mission would end with you dying in space. That he would go back to his planet safely, while you would float and float and float, while eventually dying of hunger.

And so, sharing this sweet moment of intimacy, with warmth spreading beneath your chest, you nodded. "Yes, Satoru. Let's become mates."

𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

The next few months were filled with nothing but joy.

With movies playing on repeat in the small, cinematic room, Satoru watches each of them with his lips agape. Enjoying the landscapes of Earth, you could project them into a closed space, with a blue sky spreading across the ceiling and tall Scottish plains stretching beneath your feet.

With the golden sand of Thai beaches shimmering in the sun and coconuts falling from the palms, the chirping of birds perched high in the lush trees of the Amazon Forest, and the endless plains of the Sahara Desert.

When you joked that the three pyramids in Giza you were just looking at were believed to have been built by aliens, he only hummed and nodded as if in agreement. A scoff rolled off your tongue, and his head snapped towards you.

"Why are you nodding? Of course they weren't!"

Plush, bluish lips curved in a sly smile. "Is sweetheart sure, question? It looks like something we have on our planet."

An unbelievable shock crossed your face as you stared at him, speechless. "No, you don't!"

"Yes, we do."

"You're fucking with me."

His head tilted. "I thought we can't fuck."

You rolled your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder. Or at least against the crystal surface he was pressed against. "Forget it."

"I can't, my memory is excellent."

And that was indeed true, as Satoru seemed to remember every single thing you said or did over the past few months. The plan you devised to obtain a sample of the planet's atmospheric gas to discover why it was immune to deadly microbes was etched into his mind with meticulous precision.

Truly mesmerising creature he was, especially as he also remembered which buttons to push, to make you cum faster.

What you had also discovered was that Satoru loved to talk about your future.

Particularly during the late nights, when you were curled up under the warm blanket, lying on a mattress in a dimly lit room, with him cuddled up against your side.

He couldn't brush your soft cheek pressed against the wall, but it was fine.

For the look of your lovely face, he watched with warmth blooming in his chest, was enough.

On such nights, when both of you longed for each other's warmth, he enjoyed dreaming. Of you returning with him to his planet, building you a small, private island with oxygen, and fulfilling all your wishes. You teaching the children of his species physics – as you did on Earth – and him continuing to serve as the most valued engineer on his planet.

Of you and him living together in a small seaside cottage, spending days loving each other and lying on the soft beach till darkness would spill over the ocean's horizon – the only his planet had, the one he was ready to fully give into your hands. Having sex all day and night, to which you responded with a sweet, faint giggle, as sleep slowly slipped into your eyes.

"And how would we do it, hm?" you mumbled, pressing against the crystal wall.

A soft furrow haunted your forehead, and he imagined calming it with a gentle roll of his thumb. "The atmosphere of my planet allows us to use a special technique," through the glass wall, he traced the curve of your lips. "It wraps my body in a thin barrier, but I would be able to touch you," soft lips touched to the point where your nose pressed. "And kiss you. And hug you, make love with you, although we wouldn't have children."

You understood why and giggled softly, slowly opening your sleepy eyes to meet the endless, pale blue. "You really want to get even closer, huh?"

It was a joke, and yet a warmth bloomed behind his spectral eyes, forcing your heart to skip a beat. His hand pressed to the part where your chest met the wall, before he leaned his forehead against "yours". "If I could, I would make you live inside me. So nothing in this universe would ever rip us apart."

A faint oh rolled past your lips as you bit on the soft inside of your cheek. "Satoru, I don't know how long your species live, but… I don't have as much time as you think."

A sudden panic swelled behind his eyes, and thumb slipped out of the crystal wall to brush your lower lip. "My best friends have been mates for the past hundred and sixty years. How many can you give me, question?"

Something ripped through your heart. Cut it with painful slashes, till a crease on your forehead deepened. "Not a lot, Satoru. Maybe seventy years?"

His thumb paused, an ache spreading across the vast, pale blue plains. "I've lived three hundred years without you," he said, warm lips pressing into the wrinkle between your "brows". "I won't survive another seventy."

But the endless honeymoon couldn't last long.

For there was a reason why both of you found yourselves in space. Why the mission was tagged as suicidal, and why there wasn't enough fuel to get you back to Earth. And while Satoru's dreams indeed sounded tempting, you knew that it simply wouldn't work out.

For you breathed oxygen, and he needed ammonia gas.

Your body stayed cool at thirty-six degrees Celsius, while his was burning up to over two hundred.

He was three hundred years old – you twenty-seven.

But he didn't have to know all of that. Over the past twenty-seven years, no one had made you laugh, enjoy, and love life as much as he did. Even if those brief moments of happiness were only meant to last a few months, they were enough.

After the mission, he could go back safely to his home, and you… well.

And you would need to watch him die.

It was truly unpredictable, and none of you could foresee how the situation would turn out. You finally arrived on the planet, prepared to collect the necessary samples of the antidote. You didn't know, however, how dense its atmosphere would be.

How the wind would violently hit your ship, tossing it sharply left and right as you stepped outside in your spacesuit and carried Satoru's sampling device back onto the ship.

He told you to leave it. When you almost fell off the ship, he begged you to come inside. Hit the wall with hands, screamed right into the speaker inside your helmet, pleaded to leave the sample and just come back.

But you simply couldn't do it. Because leaving it here, after Satoru spent decades in space trying to seek the solution, would be simply foolish. Egoistic, and thus, after a few harsh currents, you grabbed the box filled with antidote cells and went back to the ship.

But then, it started spinning. And spinning and spinning, wish wind smacking it in violent currents, and you found it almost impossible to get back onto the normal route. Every single light inside the control room shimmered red. Satoru tried to calm you down, but there was nothing he could truly do from behind the glass wall.

You pushed and flickered every button, every controller, but after one sudden, brutal tug of the ship, your face hit the console.

Eyes filled with red, a nasty crack came from the nose, and the gaze became a bit hazy. You tried to push one last button that would help the ship get away from the planet's strong current, but you were simply too weak. With blood slowly covering your whole face and belts still pinning you to the chair.

Satoru shouted something, but you couldn't hear him clearly. Was it because of the red lamps and an alarm filling the control room? Or maybe because of the sudden sleepiness that blanketed your eyelids?

His fists hit the glass wall, spreading the dull echo around the control room. A soft sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart rolled past his lips, but you simply had no energy to look up. As if you did, the sigh of his trembling, panicked face would rip your heart apart.

His large fists wanted to break through the wall, eyes looked at the blood dripping down your face, body filled with helplessness and desperation, trying everything in his power to get close to you.

With a single finger, you still strained to push that last red button. To get the ship back on track, at least allow Satoru to be safe, and finish the mission that would help save his planet. But your body couldn't handle the gravitational force caused by the spin, which pressed you into the console. The slow crushing of your lungs, mind filling with fogginess, throat crushed beneath the flickering buttons.

So with a soft, almost inaudible I'm sorry, your eyes closed.

A second has passed, a minute, with mind registering the crying alarm and… and a shatter of glass.

A sudden pain washed over your body – burning and stinging every nerve. Someone lifted you up, carefully, slowly, trying to wrap you in blankets and clothes, anything to keep you from the lethal touch.

Quiet, you'll live, sweetheart will live, sweetheart, sweetheart, keep your eyes open, amid violent waves of coughing and painful moans, filled the corridors of your spaceship. When your eyes opened a little, you saw nothing but thick steam evaporating from something. 

Someone.

"Satoru?" slipped out in a whisper as, from beneath the curling steam, a blue, familiar face looked down at you, wet-cheeked. "Satoru, no, y-you'll die–"

"Shhh, sweetheart, it's okay, it's okay, sweetheart will live," he repeated like a mantra, hugging your wrapped body closer to his.

Fiery skin burned through the thick layers of blankets, leaving burns all over your bloodstained skin. Your body hit something, and before you noticed, an automated medical care robot soon filled your vision. The mechanical arms pressed the oxygen mask to your face before an IV needle slipped beneath the skin of your arm.

"Satoru," you mumbled weakly, trying to find those familiar, pale eyes.

And he was right there, offering you the most painful, heart-tearing sight. Tears ran down his cheeks, white steam curled tortuously from his body, and gaze slowly grew weaker. He could barely breathe, yet still stood right there.

Over your barely warm body, making sure that you would live.

"I watch you–"

"No, S-Satoru," barely pushed through your squeezed throat. With crystal tears swirling in your eyes and fingers trying to push him away from the table. "Go back, p-please, or–"

"No, I watch you sleep." his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt. "You won't die".

You were too weak to fight him. In too much pain, with your head pounding, skin burning from his touch and anaesthesia slowly kicking in.

And so, with a last look into the eyes your heart laughed for, you fell asleep.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed. How long you stayed under the mechanical clutches of the medical robot.

How long Satoru needed to suffer, to make sure you would be alive.

But when you finally woke up and ripped yourself away from the needles, he wasn't there.

He wasn't in your sight, but something else, something burned, marked the floor. Dark traces of blue dust led further inside the spaceship. Still weak, with the last traces of blood dried on your cheek, you followed them, your heart pounding. And a little grain of foolish hope bloomed inside your heart, fresh tears already swirling in the corners of eyes.

The ship was back on a normal route, carrying you through the galaxy at a slow, peaceful pace. Thanks to Satoru.

The blue dust led you through the control room, down into the basement, kitchen, bathroom, and finally to the bedroom, as if he tried to, for the last time, see every part of the ship. Just to make sure everything was working. That after waking up, you wouldn't have to bother yourself with anything.

And so another wave of crushing sob bubbled in your throat. A pain ripping you open as you entered your shared bedroom and saw him there – curled on the mattress, the upper part of his body already slipped inside his crystal corridor. As if he didn't have the strength to crawl in fully. Too busy watching you sleep.

"Oh, Satoru," a cry finally escaped your throat, as your knees bent beside his body. "You fool, so stupid, you're–oh!" A hysterical lament filled the small bedroom as you touched his cold body. "Satoru, how c-could you leave me alone?"

Face, always beaming with so much warmth and joy, lay in dead silence. With your loving, blue eyes closed behind the curtain of white lashes and lips more pale than usual.

Gathering every last ounce of strength still boiling in your body, you brought his ball back. In such a tight, ammonia-filled space, the chance of his recovery was much higher.

Opening it was almost impossible, so you cut a hole big enough to, with pain ripping through your muscles and sweat dripping down your spine, somehow push him inside. And then you glued the walls tight, with a prayer dripping off your lips, and your body cuddled into his crystal ball.

"I'll watch you sleep," you whispered, brushing the surface with his pressed cheek. "You won't die."

𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

The sun spilling through the curtain tickled your cheeks. The chirping of birds made you sigh deeply, and the gentle sea breeze coated your skin with soft kisses. The shoulder, the soft line of the spine, the slightly sweating neck, with a salty fragrance slipping sweetly into your nostrils.

You tried to stretch, waking up your stiff body from a deep slumber, but something locked you in place.

Something heavy and long, curling around your waist and pulling you closer to another stony wall.

Or, maybe you should say, stony chest.

Looking over your shoulder, you've met with a cheeky smile curling your husband's lips and still-sleepy, pale eyes. He pulled you closer, until your head found itself under his chin and your legs entangled with his.

"Good morning," you giggled, turning in his arms. "Did you sleep well?"

Satoru hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The thin barrier wrapping his body glimmered under the spilling sunlight. After years on his planet, you no longer needed a translator to understand his language. And so you kissed his blue neck, tracing the kisses up, and up, along his jaw and chin, until finally locking your lips with his.

"Apologies, I didn't watch you sleep."

You chuckled, biting gently on his lower lip. "Were you that tired after last night?"

"Mmm," a soft, satisfied hum escaped his throat when you felt something hard poking your belly. "Forgive your husband, he didn't realise he had a tigress and no wife at home."

You chuckled sweetly, forcing his lips to curl in a sly smile.

"Does my wife need anything? Do you want Suguru to lower the temperature?"

Tracing the sharpness of his jaw, up to the curve of his lips, your head shook. "No, it's warm enough. Maybe you can ask him to lower the birds' chirping a bit. I think they're a bit louder than yesterday."

He nodded, pulling you even closer. Till your bodies tangled in one, and a slow, peaceful pounding of his heart beat against your breasts. "Mhm, sure. But let's sleep a bit longer, and then you can jump on me as much as you want, hm?"

So with the last, soft kiss between your brows and heart swelling from feeling the heaviness of your body on his, Satoru allowed you to cuddle into his muscular chest and watch him slowly slip into a deep slumber.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Imagine this: two weeks after your husband's death you woke, exhausted and grief-logged, to find a cup of coffee waiting for you on the kitchen island.

You froze.

Had someone been in here?

Shoko, perhaps, or Kento—

(He was dead, too.)

Or perhaps one of his students, in some misguided bid to cheer you up.

Maybe it had been Megumi, who was dealing with his own grief. You remembered, with a flash of hot guilt, that you had yet to visit him. Satoru wouldn't have wanted that, you chided yourself. He would have wanted you to see his kids.

He would have wanted you to be strong.

(But you weren't strong. That had always been him. And now, in his absence, you were not quite sure what you were meant to be.)

One of these days, you promised yourself. One of these you days, when your grief no longer felt so heavy that it threatened to flatten you. One of these you will visit his kids and you will smile.

You stared at the cup again, contemplating.

Perhaps it had been Yuji Itadori, Satoru's favorite, though he would claim he had no favorites. The one who always played along with his pranks, who would laugh whenever he got a little too rough. Itadori always had a special connection with your husband, who walked through the world as if he was handling glass.

So, perhaps Itadori, you thought. It must be Itadori.

You picked up the mug. It was cool to the touch, the coffee long since gron cold. The handle had broken off two years ago, from another one of Satoru's antics.

(You wondered, briefly then, if the memories of him would ever stop haunting you. If there would be a day when you would touch something and not be reminded of him.)

He had promised to buy you a new one.

He never did.

And now, he never would.

You lifted the mug to your lips and drank to the last drop.

Imagine this: it was Megumi Fushiguro who approaches you first.

A month after your husband's death, Megumi showed up at your door, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed to the ground. You were horribly, painfully aware of the shadows your eyes, so dark they looked like bruises, your unwashed hair, the clothes that you had slept in for two (three, four?) days now.

"I came to check in on you," he said in a low voice. "Ichiji says that he hasn't seen you in a while."

"I'm fine," you answered quickly.

Perhaps, a bit too quickly judging by the way his brows drew together. You have said it so many times that it was almost automatic now.

Megumi didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes were fixed at a point just above your shoulder, never quite looking at your face.

He was looking, you realized, at the state of disarray behind you. The dirty clothes strewn about on the floor, the wrinkled pile of laundry that was more than a week old because you didn't have the energy to fold them, the piles of takeout containers, leftovers rotting inside their styrofoam shells.

Satoru would have despaired, seeing you like that.

But that was the point, wasn't it?

He wasn't there.

Not anymore.

The silence streched on between the two of you. Neither you or Megumi had ever been good with words. You had always relied on Satoru to bridge the gap, with an awful joke or some ridiculous game he wanted to play. You wondered if Megumi felt it too, the way his words lay heavy inside his throat, unspoken. He had always been too quiet, even as a child.

Then, stiffly, he said, "I thought that a walk might be good…for both of us."

You stared at him. You hadn't been sleeping well for days now, your hair hung around your face in greasy strands. There was a stain on your shirt.

But Megumi was here, and he was trying. And God help you, you knew that Satoru would have wanted you to try, too.

So you nodded, followed after him without changing. And as you did, you could have sworn you felt a little push on the small of your back as you left the house.

The two of you didn't talk as you walk, and already you could feel the effects of your confinement. Your legs were already beginning to burn, sweat trickling down your back. Megumi kept his eyes straight ahead, still refusing to look at you, but you had a feeling he was slowing his pace so you could keep up.

"Megumi," you panted. "Why did you invite me out?"

He paused just outside of a park. You remembered this place, if only just barely. Your memories of it were hazy, as if looking through a fog: you and Satoru used to take Megumi and his sister there. You sat down on the bench without asking. This one had the perfect view of the playground. Satoru had always said that keeping an eye on them wasn't necessary. Megumi had always been too serious, even at six years old, preferring to look after his sister instead of playing with the other kids.

But there were no children here now. It looked strangely sad, lonely in the way abandoned places were lonely.

Like the house now, like you. An aching emptiness where joy once was.

"Do you remember this park?" Megumi asked as he took to a seat next to you.

You were confused, then try for a smile. You could almost feel the muscles in your face creak in protest, everything inside you turned to rust.

"I'm grieving, not senile," you said. "Satoru and I used to take you and your sister here.”

You glanced at the monkey bars, where the children would have competitions on who could get to the furthest rung. And you remembered, with a sudden wave of heartache, that Satoru would always insist on joining. Always winning, every time.

And then he'd buy them ice cream. Especially when one of them started crying.

But now the metal rungs were broken, twisted and pointed up at the sky like reaching fingers. Beside it was a crater where the slide used to be. You blinked, and through the haze of blunted emotions, you felt a blip of surprise. Had a storm moved through Tokyo? In your state, a hurricane could have torn the roof off the Gojo compound and you wouldn't have noticed.

"What…happened here?"

Megumi sighed. "Several curses manifested here three days ago. Strong ones. Sent several kids to the hospital. It took Yuji, Nobara, and me to exorcise them."

He gazed at the ruined structures, silent again. You wondered why he was telling you this. You were a non-sorcerer, could barely even see the haziest figures of curses.

And now, your one greatest link to the Jujutsu world was gone.

Megumi continued, "There's been an uptick in curses lately. I was wondering if you'd noticed."

When you shook your head, Megumi added," We found two other on the street corner where you and…where you live."

With a painful little twist that you realized that he had been about to say you and Satoru. But now, the the house was yours and yours alone. And it was too big and too empty and you couldn't imagine it being a home ever again.

You could already feel the conversation slipping away from you. Ever since Satoru’s death, things had taken on a fleeting quality, like a dream that was already fading the moment you wake. Unremembered and unimportant. But this was Megumi speaking, and Satoru would have wanted you to care. So you forced yourself to remember what you knew about curses: how their presence would sometimes leave people feeling ill, a malaise hanging over them like a dark cloud. But you had felt like that ever since you opened the door and had been given an urn instead of your husband. You had the suspicion that you will feel this way forever.

Silently, you shook your head.

"Nothing out of…"

You swallowed. You had been out of the say was nothing out of the ordinary. And yet, with Satoru dead, how could anything be ordinary ever again?

You were suddenly struck with the thought that this was your ordinary now. This yawning absence where he used to be. Your heart rose in your throat and lay there, as heavy as a stone. This was how it always started: a crying jag so awful and so bitter that you would not stop for hours. Had you been in the comfort of your own home—house—you would have given into it. Cried until all of the tears had been wrung from you like a wet rag. There was a bitter sort of relief in it, to be able to do something with all this grief instead of holding it inside you.

But you weren't in your bedroom or your bathroom or the kitchen or any of the hundred little places where the reality of your loss would swamp you over you like a wave.

You were with Megumi.

And Satoru would have wanted you to put him first.

So again, you just shook your head. You didn't trust yourself to speak.

Megumi sighed and leaned back. He tried to smile at you, but it looked more like a grimace.

"I'm glad. That's…well, that's the last thing you need."

"It's the last thing you need, too," you said softly. "You're grieving, too."

He does something odd, then. He leaned his head against your shoulder. He has grown so tall now that he has to crane his neck to do it, but it was a comforting weight. And you remembered how Satoru used to wrap himself around you, long limbs wrapping around you like a vine.

It made you smile—a real one this time—thinking that perhaps there would still be something left of him.

"I'm not…I'm not him," Megumi said quietly. "But I'll make sure that none of these curses will hurt you."

"Thank you," you said softly.

Imagine this: as the hours stretched into days into weeks, you found that you didn't need Megumi's protection.

It wasn't because you had grown strong—God no, you barely had any sort of cursed energy yourself—but because you found that curses seemed to avoid you.

You could just barely see their hazy forms, at a corner store where a murder happened, at a school, at a sharp turn in a street corner where cars would often crush themselves against each other. Dark and twisted, sometimes crawling on all fours, skittering away from you like bugs before a light.

You had asked Megumi about this several times, wondering if he had set one of his shikigami after you, but he had only looked at you in confusion and shook his head.

Perhaps it was the exhaustion then, that was making you see things. Perhaps the curses were nothing more than shadows dancing, your eyes gone too dry from all the nights you spent crying.

Perhaps, you would always feel like this now.

Perhaps this has become your ordinary.

And you would have gone on thinking that, if not for the gas station.

Imagine this: it was a silly thing, not knowing how to pump your own gas. Satoru had never let you do it on your own, when he had been alive.

(The thought cut through you like a knife. The sharp sting of loss.)

He always had Ichiji or someone else do it for you. Sometimes he would do it himself, always with such a magnanimous air, as if it was a great sacrifice. Always, it made you laugh.

And now, in the middle of the night, you found yourself at a gas station. Quite unsure about what to do.

At first you were alone, in your pajamas, shivering in the cold night air.

And then you weren't.

You had thought, initially, that it was just an old man. He was certainly dressed like one: white shirt that hung too loosely on his frame, worn cotton pants. You thought that he looked a little bit like you: rumpled and tired, gotten out of bed at midnight just so he could escape his thoughts.

That should've been the end of it.

But it wasn't.

Imagine this: it began with a muttering sound, like the chittering of insects. A single word, whispered over and over underneath someone's breath until, out of sheer curiousity, you strained to hear it.

Hungry.

Hungry.

And then, faster. More desperate. A maddening rhythm.

Hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry.

And when the old man turned to face you, you realized that it was not an old man at all.

It was a hideous thing, its shirt left unbottoned to display its stomach, horribly distended, like a corpse left to rot in the water. Its neck was inhumanly long, and so thin that its head dangled onto its shoulder like a broken branch. But worst of all was its face: its mouth gaped open in an endless scream. Its eyes rolled madly in their sockets like. You must have made a noise, because in the next moment, those horrible eyes found you.

And for once, they held still.

It smiled without teeth, and you could see the dark hole of its endless throat. Some distant part of you wondered if it swallowed its prey whole like a snake, if its belly still contained living human beings trying to claw their way out.

It spoke again, Hungry.

You screamed.

It took one step toward you, grinning madly. Spittle frothed over its lips like a rabid dog. Its thin chest heaved in excitement.

It reached out toward you.

And stopped.

Its fingers twisted unnaturally as it struggled to touch you, never quite reaching, as if it had hit an invisible wall. So close like this, you could see that its nails were cracked and bloodied, the flesh underneath black with necrosis.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You had only seen something like that once.

But then, something pushed back. The wall between you and the curse yawned wider, and its fingers were forced backward. Further and further until they bent, like the curled legs of dying spiders. Its mouth worked furiously, opening and closing without sound. As if it was trying to scream, but couldn't quite remember how.

Then its bones snapped. With such violence that the blackened tips of its fingers burst like rotten fruit. The air was filled with the stench of decay, as something that wasn't blood sprayed all over its shirt, the floor. You gagged, stomach heaving.

And it kept going. Oh God, it kept going.

Whatever force that was pushing back at it curled its arm backward until its bones were crushed—pulverized—the sound like rolling gravel. Backwards and backwards until the shattered remains reached its elbow, a mass of pulsing flesh and powdered bone.

Blackened tears streamed from its eyes like oil.

It was hurting.

Whatever was doing this was toying with it.

"Stop it," you whispered, your throat raw. "Stop it."

The air grew still for a few seconds, as if the world had somehow held its breath.

And then, it listened.

Something pressed downward onto the curse—you saw the way its face twisted, the skull fracturing as if under an immense weight—then it exploded. Crushed from above by something unseeable, bile and blood and bits of flesh flying outwards, yet not a single—neither flesh nor bile nor bone—struck you. Your clothes remained perfectly pristine.

You stood there for several seconds, staring at the crater where the curse once stood. Whatever had crushed it had done so with such force that bits of flesh were embedded into the cracks in the concrete.

And then, you doubled over and vomited on your shoes.

Imagine this: after Satoru Gojo's death, you are beginning to think that you are being haunted by more than just grief.

The coffee mugs come every morning now, despite you having the locks changed multiple times. There were fingerprints in mirrors you haven't touched, the mark of someone's palm smeared across the glass patio door.

Megumi came around to warn you several more times, seemingly worried, warning you about powerful curses. But you never felt threatened by them, not since your encounter at the gas station.

Whenever you left the house, something would flutter at the edges of your vision, like the wings of a bird in flight. But it was never quite there when you turn. You could almost hear your husband’s laugh, whenever you stood at the doorway in helpless frustration.

Your dreams were haunted by his eyes, and there weren't two or four or even six.

There were hundreds, if not thousands. All staring at you with an intensity that seemed to burn your skin.

Sometimes you would wake up screaming.

Imagine this: three months after your husband's death, you found yourself at your limit.

The dreams and the coffee and the handprints left on glass windows as if someone had been watching you from the outside. It all had the air of a game. A sick and twisted game that was driving you insane. The kind of game he would play, the ones that made you suspect that there was something more underneath the smiling, playful veneer he always showed. Something darker. Something hungry. You thought of your husband, who used to tease and taunt you until you either laughed or yelled at him.

(Imagine this: you thought for just a second, what a sweet relief it would be: to be devoured instead of being left alone to grieve)

In the morning, the mug was there to greet you. The way it had every day for the past month.

But instead of drinking it, you pour it down the drain, and when something fluttered at the edges of your vision, like the wings of a startled bird, you ignored it.

(You used to do this, too. Ignore whatever things he did until he broke and apologized.)

(Satoru always did love attention.)

You set the empty mug down on the counter, and turned to the kitchen. When you spoke, it had the air of a challenge. Perhaps you were only talking to empty air or perhaps you were talking to something else.

"Satoru."

Nothing moved. But in that silence, you felt the same sensation as you did at the gas station. Like time had stopped, like the world was holding its breath. His name sounded brittle when you said it, as if it could shatter at any moment and cut you at its jagged edges. Three months after his death, it was hard to feel anything but grief. It was hard to hope, harder still to separate that hope from delusion.

But you were tired and sleep-deprived and every night you went to bed, all you could see were those eyes, staring at you.

Staring. Hungry.

(Hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry)

"Satoru, please."

Silence. So loud it was almost deafening.

You thought to the old man at the gasoline station. Something had killed him. Something powerful. Megumi had told you that when curses died, they dissolved into dust. But this one had been crushed so violently that bits of flesh had been crushed into the stones.

Something had done that. And whatever it was, it hated.

You thought of your husband, who used to laugh as if he didn't have a care in the world. Who used to tease and taunt and joke with you until you laughed like that too.

You thought of fingerprints smeared across glass surfaces.

You thought of the eyes in your dreams, staring, hungry.

You thought about how sweet it would be, to be devoured instead of being left alone to grieve.

"Satoru," you said. "I need to know if it's you. I need…I need you to stop hiding from me, my love—"

No answer.

You thought of the nights when his teasing went too far, and you had to lock yourself in the bedroom to get away from him.

"And if you don't—" Your voice wavered, then cracked at the edges like glass.

"Megumi told me about an abandoned hospital. It's near where we live…where I live. He said that curses were manifesting in them. He told me so that I wouldn't go near it. But if you don't…you don't show yourself, I'm going to that hospital and see—"

The mug on the counter rattles, then it shot backward like a bullet fired from a gun, hitting the mirror behind it with a splintering crash. Shards of glass sprayed everywhere, yet none of them hit you.

You stared at the mirror, the pulverized remains of the mug, chest heaving and cold sweat trickling down your face. Never, not even in your worst fights, had Satoru ever done anything like that. You couldn't even imagine him doing something like that.

(But then, you couldn't imagine him destroying that curse in the gas station. Not with such violence, such wanton cruelty.)

And for one, frightening, heartbreaking second, you wondered if it really was your Satoru. If, perhaps, you were stuck instead with a curse who only looked like him, and longing did the rest. You thought of the eyes in your dreams, as clear and blue as a summer sky.

But then you thought to yoursef: you would know them anywhere. Three months could not erase a lifetime of intimacy, and you knew your husband's face better than you did your own.

You knew this, too: Satoru would never hurt you.

Trembling, you walked to the wreckage to inspect it. It was a full length mirror, and it had been struck with such force that only a single shard remained attached to the frame. In it, you could see a sliver of your face. Sweat ran down your face like tears. A single eye, the pupil so wide that it looked like a black hole.

And something behind you. The barest hint of a figure, like smoke in the shape of a person.

You looked over your shoulder, but nothing was there.

No one but you.

You glanced at the mirror again, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. No, something was definitely there. It had the same hazy quality of curses. Satoru had told you that regular humans couldn't see them, except perhaps at the point of death. There were a few just like you, who could just barely see the ghostly impressions of them, like colors in a faded painting—but they were usually dismissed as fake psychics or charlatons.

Your fingers reached out, trembling, to touch the mirror. Cradled the figure in the palm of your hand, the way you used to cradle him in your arms.

And you felt a longing so profound that it felt more like hunger, and you leaned forward just so you could see every inch of him. When your breath fogged against the smooth surface of the grass, you let out a strangled cry.

"No!"

You hastily wiped at it with the edge of your sleeve, wanting—no needing—to see him again. And in your haste, the jagged edge slices clean through your palm. It was so sudden that at first, all you felt was heat. Blood welled up from the cut.

The air in the room grew heavier, the figure in the mirror shimmered, like smoke from a bonfire disturbed by a sudden wind. It struggled to retain its shape. Injuries always held a strange sort of fascination with Satoru. He never got them, not even a paper cut or the barest hint of a bruise. And he would always react with alarm whenever you got one.

"Satoru…" you croaked.

When you turned around, this time you could see him. Not just his reflection, but him.

Satoru.

Your husband, who you lost three months ago. Who left your arms as a bright and warm and smiling man and had come back to you as an urn. Death had changed him, perhaps in the way it changed all humans.

(Your husband, who you lost three months ago. Who left your arms as a bright and warm and smiling man and has come back to you a horror.)

He had always been tall, but while in life he had made himself small—easily fitting into a room without commanding it—in death, his presence was almost suffocating. He wore the same outfit he did when he left: traditional robes, as white as freshly fallen snow. When you had first seen him in them, you couldn't help but think of prisoners on death row wearing the same color, the fabric carefully, deliberately folded right over left. They were blindfolded, too. So they wouldn't try to run as they were led to the noose.

White, you had thought, had always been for the dead.

When you had told him this, Satoru smiled at you and pulled his blindfold off. That way, he had joked, he could see death coming.

(And did he? Did your husband who never failed to make you smile, who always told terrible jokes, who wore white on the day he died, see his death coming?)

(Was it terrible?)

(Did it hurt?)

As your gaze traveled further down, a small sound escaped your throat. The sound of a songbird caught in a trap, a desperate, broken little trill. It was the sound someone made as their last hope dies.

(Yes, you thought. It did hurt. Your husband, who never failed to make you smile, who always told terrible jokes, who wore white on the day he died, had suffered.)

There were tears on his clothes, gaping and terrible. One across his torso, and another across his arm. Underneath them, the flesh had been so hastily stitched together that you could see where the black threads had come loose, where the wounds still gaped and bled sluggishly. Oh, they had treated your husband like a doll whose limbs had come loose, hastily shoving parts back together so he could be toyed with once again.

(If it had been you, you would have labored over each stitch, would have used a needle so small that he wouldn't have felt it going in. If it had been you, he would have been treated with care.)

What was it that Shoko Ieri had said?

His body wasn't in a fit state for viewing. We proceeded directly with cremation.

"Oh, love," you said in a voice like heartbreak. "What did they do to you?"

To both of you?

Instead of the blindfold you had grown used to, he was wearing bandages. Wrapped so tightly around his head that, had he been alive, it would have hurt. You imagined the eyes behind them, shut forever.

A chilling thought entered your mind, so horrible that your stomach churned in disgust: perhaps they had taken those too. Perhaps, behind the bandages, there were only empty sockets.

After all, they had taken everything else.

A noise rose from your throat, a high-pitched whine, like something wounded. And Satoru—or the ghost of him—started, as if to catch you.

You saw them then.

His eyes.

Oh God, his eyes.

They were not on his face, but instead they were floating above him. Orbiting him like planets. Blue eyes, vibrant as a summer sky. Others, gone milky and blind, as if plucked from a corpse.

(Did they take those too?)

A few of them held still, looking at you with an intensity that was so familiar that it made you want to weep.

You thought of the curse at the gas station.

You should have been frightened. You should have screamed.

Instead you thought of Satoru. You thought of his eyes. Soft with love as he looked down at you on your wedding day. Heavy-lidded and hazy with pleasure. Narrowed into a smile, just beginning to crinkle at the edges, the beginnings of laugh lines that he would never age into.

A thousand different eyes, and you know them all.

(A thought, so terrible that it made you want to vomit: did they take those, too?)

It rang inside your head like an echo.

When you reached out to touch him, your fingers were trembling.

They hadn't even given you a body to bury, the opportunity to see his face one last time, to brush his hair out of his eyes and whisper goodbye.

And now he was here, he was here. And it was both a miracle and a monstrosity.

Was he a curse now? Or a spirit? Some sort of vengeful ghost that crawled out of its grave—urn—because the world hadn't grieved enough or sacrificed enough or mourned enough at his passing?

(The thought wormed its way into your head, hot and traitorous: they would deserve it, if he had come back as a horror, bitter and vengeful. They had starved him in life, he should get to feast on them after death.)

(And you thought again: it was better to be devoured, than to be left alone to grief. Unlike the rest of them, you would welcome it.)

You felt something cold against you, and you looked down to find your palm cradled in both of his. His skin was ice-cold. And yet, the sensation made you smile. Even in death, he still found ways to look after you.

"Does it bother you?" You asked.

He made a gesture then, a quick dismissive jerk of the head. And it was so him that it made you laugh. You hadn't laughed in so long that you were surprised you could still do it, that it hadn't rusted inside you like everything else.

He always made it so, so easy to be happy.

"You don't have to act tough, you know," you said, and in your voice, you could hear the barest hint of teasing.

You didn't think you had it in you to be ever playful again. But here you were. Laughing, joking. And God, it was so sweet you felt like weeping.

"I can bandage it, if you want," you continued.

Satoru always had made a big deal when it came to your injuries. Pretending to screech and faint. And yet, there always had been some sincerity in his dramatics. A discomfort with being confronted with your mortality.

An irony then, that it was him who had died first.

A drop of blood falls to the floor, staining the carpet below, and the multitude of eyes follow it. And the figure in front of you shimmered, like a sigh, like an intake of breath. You thought again of the creature at the gas station, its voice like the endless chittering of insects.

Hungryhungryhungryhungryhungryhungry.

Your mouth went dry at the realization

But while the creature had only inspired fear in you, the kind reserved for lightning storms and broken bits of glass and creatures with sharp teeth, looking at Satoru, tenderness welled up in you like tears.

This man, who had been sewn together carelessly like a child's toy, who had not even been given the decency of a body to bury, who had never failed to make you laugh, who held your palm in his upturned hands was starving.

Those eyes.

They looked at you with need.

And yet, he wouldn't take from you what wasn't freely given.

And it was so him, so Satoru, that you almost laughed again. It was such a small thing, you thought. Just a little bit of blood. You blinked as the form shimmered again, as fluid as smoke rising from an incense stick. And then—

"Oh."

He had bent at the waist, your palm still held in his, as if delivering a kiss. And he drank so slowly, so carefully that you barely even felt it.

And this time, you were sure that it was not just a hallucination, some illusion of grief. Your mind, however broken, could never conjure a sensation as cruel as this: his lips, now cold, once again touching your skin. When he straightened up, his figure had grown solid, more there. When you reached out to him, you could almost feel the warmth of him against your fingertips.

"You can take more," you said hoarsely. "If you want."

To see him, you would have given everything you have. You would bleed your veins dry until they ran as clear as glass, you would wring yourself until there was nothing left.

(It was such a small thing. Just a little bit of blood.)

But again, that achingly familiar gesture. The jerk of his head, as if dismissing his own needs.

No more. It seemed to say. Not from you. Not today.

Your breathing stuttered to a halt, and then, you laughed. And the sound was horrible and broken. Your husband, who had never failed to make you smile, who wore white on the day he died, who had been put back together like a child's least favorite toy was hungry. And he would not take more from you. Not today, at least.

(It was such a small thing. Just a little bit of blood.)

Your husband, who had starved in life, but would not starve in death.

You would make sure of it.

After all: it was better to be devoured, than to be left alone to grief.

You weren’t initially planning on keeping the cat. When you brought him home, you thought at most he would’ve stayed the night before you dropped him off at the local shelter. One night turned into two. Two nights turned into a week. Before you knew it, Snowbell became the second member of your household.

You tried to do the right thing, at first. You knew Snowbell probably had an owner who was worried sick looking for him. There was no way that wasn’t true. Despite the grim, sooty conditions you found the cat in, it was clear he was well-cared for and domesticated. His sweet blue eyes and long white fur were clear indicators that he wasn’t the average streetcat. As much as you tried to look for his original owner, nothing came of it. For the time being, Snowbell was stuck with you.

He never once hissed or scratched at you. He was such a sweet kitten, perfectly happy to lounge around on your bed or your sofa, dutifully waiting for you to come back home. You never had any problems other cat owners had with their cats scratching up their wooden furniture or making litter accidents. Life with him was peaceful and domestic. Idyllic, even.

Still, there was something strangely off-putting about Snowbell. You could never fully explain it. As pretty as his crystal-blue eyes were, you felt like there was something more underneath. Sometimes, it really felt like Snowbell was laughing at you. There were times he did things that were too human and less animalistic. Pet owners often overestimated how smart their animals were, but you were sure there was something about Snowbell you could never put your finger on.

Maybe that was the issue. You personified him too much–humanized him.

Snowbell disappeared through an open window one sunny day, just like any other cat would have.

You had been an emotional wreck that night. You cried all throughout the night and barely got any sleep. Pathetically, you cuddled the spot of the bed Snowbell used to lie on, as though his lingering warmth would be nestled in the pillows. You almost called in sick for work the next morning before inevitably deciding to sludge your way through the day. You hadn’t even remembered opening that window, but it wasn’t like Snowbell sprouted human hands and pushed it open himself. Guilt for being a shitty pet owner clung to you like dirt.

Snowbell disappeared on Monday. That night, you called every shelter you could think of in search of him. The volunteers on the other end assured you they’d call you if they saw anything, but you doubted anything would come of it. On Tuesday, you and some of your friends went out on a failed search. On Wednesday, you left out food and your shirt outside your apartment in a feeble attempt to lure him back. On Thursday, you went out to search for him again, but alone.

Snowbell disappeared on Monday. By Friday, you were starting to lose hope of ever finding him.

The door rattled as you shut it behind you. You were supposed to call the landlord about it ages ago, but you never got around to it. Non-urgent, but extremely annoying. Yet another thing tacked onto this terrible day.

Tomorrow was the weekend. You knew you wouldn’t spend it lounging around your apartment, catching up on that show you put off. You would be outdoors, continuing your search for hidden corners and pockets.

On the way out, you ran into your neighbor. Tachibana smiled at you–those pitiful little smiles you’d give to someone who got drenched by a speeding car careening over a puddle. Perhaps, in her eyes, there wasn’t much of a difference between the current you and someone like that.

Her daughter lingered just behind her. She was a sweet girl. Last you remembered, she was about to enter elementary school. She wore her hair in a trimmed bob with a bright blue headband. It reminded you of Snowbell’s bright eyes, the way he would track your movement across the apartment with such intelligence.

You were close enough with Tachibana and her daughter to exchange greetings. Some type of small talk. Tachibana gracefully danced around the glaring topic because she had lived in society for quite some time now.

Dani was less perceptive towards social norms. She peered up at you with big softened eyes.

“Have you found him yet?” She asked before her mother could hush her.

Despite the ache in your heart, you smiled down at her.

“Not yet,” you said, “but I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.”

You weren’t the only one dealing with the loss of Snowbell. The few times you had to leave for a last-minute trip, you often left your cat in the care of the Tachibanas. Dani adored that cat, snuggling him every time she saw him. Snowbell mostly tolerated it. He got along well with most of your friends and neighbors.

Dani frowned, clearly not convinced, but she said nothing more about it. She gave a wave as she and her mother brushed by you and back into their apartment. You smiled until their door shut and locked behind them.

The act was exhausting. You were glad you didn’t pass by anyone else as you wandered out the glass doors, onto the busy streets of the city. People brushed by you, completely oblivious to your misery. You didn’t fault them. Why would anyone pay attention to a stranger? You certainly wouldn’t.

You glanced down at your phone. There was nothing. No alerts, no beeps, no missed calls from someone having found your pet. You expected it. It still sank your heart.

You tucked your phone in your pocket, shuffling around with the missing cat posters under your arm. It was your last batch. Once you put these up, you promised yourself you wouldn’t make any more.

You didn’t want to spend Friday night like this. Not many people would. Your friends tried to talk you out of it, encouraging you to go out with them like you were grieving a break-up. Maybe to them, that’s what you were doing. Maybe they thought you needed a break from your misery.

But the thought of Snowbell being out there, alone, lost, and cold. Completely helpless. Injured–maybe even dead. It was all too much for you to think about abandoning the search for even one night.

By the time you stapled the last poster, the sun had already sunk well below the horizon. Oranges and reds streaked across the sky. In a few hours, it would be well into the night, limiting your vision.

If that wasn’t enough, it started to drizzle. The smell of rain hit your nose. The air started to mist ever so slightly, causing the area around you to take on a faint-blue hue. Apparently, everyone was smarter than you. The streets were empty, with the few people left carrying umbrellas or coats. Cold drops hit your hands, your face, your clothes. It wasn’t enough to soak you, but the dark marks on your clothes got more and more prevalent as the seconds passed. For lack of better words, this severely dampened your mood. You knew all those hours of you putting up missing cat posters would turn into soggy, unreadable scraps by the end of this storm, whisking away into the drain to never be seen again.

It was as though the universe itself was telling you to give up.

You’d try again tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, the rain would clear up. You pulled out your phone to check the time when you stumbled. Your fingers slipped, and you lost your grip on your phone, lips pulling up in a cringe when it crashed onto the ground and slid away from you.

You cursed to yourself as you made your way towards it. You really hoped it hadn’t cracked in the fall.

Pale, lithe fingers reached down and plucked it off the pavement.

It’s like he stepped off a runway. His clothes were expensive just from the look of the fabric itself. Despite the drizzle, he remained perfectly dry. His white hair framed his face perfectly. You couldn’t see his eyes, covered by black sunglasses. He might have been the most beautiful man you ever saw.

He silently offered your phone. You accepted it with grateful hands.

“Thank you.” You told him. Where had he even come from? You thought you were alone on this side of the road.

Pink lips curved into an easy-going smile as he towered over you. The stranger hadn’t stepped back once he handed your phone back. Instead, he leaned forward ever so slightly.

“Cute wallpaper.” He commented.

You glanced down at your phone. Your lock screen showed Snowbell in mid-stretch, baby-pink paws reaching towards the sky as he lounged on your bedsheets. You’d had many pictures of Snowbell, but you thought that was your favorite snapshot.

It was one of the few things you had left of him now.

You feigned a smile.

“Oh, thank you.”

The stranger didn’t register your clipped tone. “How long have you had him?”

“Barely a few weeks.” You honestly said before wincing. “I…I’m actually looking for him so–”

When people comment on your cat’s disappearance, there’s often a twinge of pity somewhere in their eyes. It made you feel small–pathetic. You steeled yourself, readying for that same look before he finally left you alone.

There’s none of that.

“I was about to ask.” The stranger hummed. “I thought he looked familiar. I think I’ve seen him before.”

Your eyes snapped up to his face.

“You’ve seen him?” What followed was a barrage of questions: Where was he? What did he look like? Was he injured? How long ago was it?

The stranger barely even flinched at your demands for answers. Even as you leaned into his space, he barely backed up. His smile grew wider as he opened his mouth to speak.

You jumped at the clap of thunder. The already darkened sky swirled with angry gray-blue clouds. The drizzle threatened to intensify.

He glanced up and clicked his tongue.

“How about we talk somewhere indoors?”

🐾

As soon as you stepped into the restaurant, the weather got ugly.

Rain thumped against the window, spraying water onto the soaked concrete sidewalks and roads. Puddles grew across the ground. Thunder rumbled as lightning streaked across the sky every so often. The wind aggressively blew past your shelter, changing direction every few minutes. You’d hate to be stuck out there at that very moment.

Compared to the storm's harshness, the restaurant was a haven. The warmth heated your cheeks as you shrugged off your coat. It looked a bit on the expensive side. Warm candlelight illuminated each table. You sat in a comfortable chair with a red plush seat, watching the waitress happily fill your cup with fresh water.

He was already glancing at the menu as you awkwardly sat across from him.

“What are you thinking of getting?” He asked as he flipped through the laminated pages. “Oh! The eel here is to die for. You’ll love it, promise.” He assured you.

You pursed your lips. “I’m not actually–”

“This also seems good.” He shoved the menu in front of your face, and you reflexively flinched back. “Wanna try it?”

You forgot how you even got to this point. When he suggested talking indoors, you thought he meant a brief shelter from the rain.

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress cheerfully asked.

“Yes!” He said before rattling off a long list of various foods and treats. He then turned to you with a questioning hum.

“Just the water is fine.” You told her, and she happily gathered your menus before she hurried off.

“Isn’t this place adorable?” He asked you. “I found it a while ago. I think a nice, quiet dinner with rain right outside sets the perfect tone.” He leaned back in his chair.

You stared at him and tried to figure out what he was even talking about.

“You said you saw my cat, right?” You changed topics. “Where did you see him?”

“I definitely saw him!” He told you. “A couple of times, actually. Trust me—would never forget that face. He’s really easy on the eyes, huh?”

Your eyes flitted down as you thought of pretty white fur and sparkling blue eyes. You spent hours a week grooming him, fluffing out his soft fur, and making him the best version of himself he could be. He was the prettiest kitten you’ve ever laid your eyes on, and you couldn’t help but make him even prettier.

“He is,” you agreed. You found yourself smiling just thinking about him.

“Really?” He leaned forward. A mischievous smile spread across his lips. “He’s handsome, right? Really handsome?”

Your eyes narrowed as you continued to eye him. Why was he trying to goad you into complimenting your cat?

“Of course he is,” you responded. It felt more and more like he was making fun of you. Were you wasting your time here?

He leaned back, looking oddly satisfied.

“I’m sure he’d be happy hearing you say that,” he told you. “Cats are really good about these things, y’know. Emotions and all that.”

“Right,” you said, hoping to ease him along into the conversation you really wanted to have. “So, again, you said you–”

“Oh, food’s here!” He cut you off and pointed excitedly to somewhere behind you. “I’m starved.”

Sure enough, the waitress stepped into your vision with a friendly smile pressed on painted lips. You watched as she set down pretty porcelain plates and bowls, most crowded in his direction. The smell of steaming veggies and heaps of rice drifted into your nose. Your lips twitched into a frown as the plates continued to pile up before the waitress set something right in front of you.

You moved, quick to correct her blunder. “Oh, I never ordered anything–”

Your words caught in your throat when you realized it was your favorite dish.

“You should try it!” The man urged. “They make it really well here.”

You watched him for a minute. He paid you no mind, continuing to chow down on his meal. How did he know this was your favorite meal?

When you asked him, he stopped eating, looking amused.

“No way, I was right?” He laughed, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “You seemed like the type of person who would like this type of stuff. I guess I’m good at reading people.”

So it truly was a coincidence. You glanced down at the meal. Compared to how you made it at home, the restaurant’s version was immaculate. You weren’t too upset. After all, you weren’t a chef. The scent of the food reminded you of all those times you had to fight off Snowbell. He’d go wild anytime you made it. He would constantly appear in the kitchen, eager for a tasty swipe. You’d feed him scraps, letting him enjoy your hard labour every once in a while. You didn’t do it too often, afraid he might get sick, but you secretly appreciated how much he liked it.

In those times, he felt more human than cat.

“What are you waiting for?” A voice snapped you out of your thoughts. The man gestured to your plate. He was halfway done with his own meal. “The food won’t eat itself.”

It wasn’t like you could refuse, right? He’d already ordered it. You felt it was rude to reject his offering, no matter how strange this man was.

You took a bite.

“It’s good,” you said. You took another one.

He nodded along. “I told you!”

His voice quietened a bit after.

“Still, I think it’s better homemade.”

You agreed with him.

You took another bite. Then, you took another. After your tenth bite, you suddenly realized how little you’d been eating lately. Your free time was spent thinking about Snowbell and worrying about him. You barely had time to sleep, let alone eat a hearty meal.

Sometime after that, your belly was full, the plates were cleared of food, and it was still raining. You found yourself perched right at the doors, hearing the murmurs of the other restaurant’s patrons behind you. You watched as the rain lightly tapped at the crystal glass. The more you thought about the way this night ended, the more humour you found.

Earlier, you had been stuck out in the rain before being picked up by a strange man. It almost paralleled the night you found Snowbell.

(You stumbled onto him one random evening after work. You were hurrying home, eager to get out of the rain. The umbrella you held kept most of the moisture off your clothes, but you could feel water drip through your shoes and up the cuffs of your pants. You could almost imagine chucking them off and enjoying a nice warm shower.

Just then, you saw a streak of white.

Barely a glimpse. At first, you thought it was a plastic bag hurtling into an alleyway. You should have pressed on and ignored it. For whatever reason, you followed the gut feeling nestled deep inside of you.

It was a filthy alley. Trash littered the walls and splattered across the ground. The rain made the smell of garbage even more pungent. You scrunched your nose as you peered around.

Something rattled right behind a garbage can. You crouched down as you tried to steal a peek behind the dumpster.

“Come out here.” You clicked your tongue, trying to be as enticing as you could. You thought it was a small dog, at first.

A shadow peeked out of the dumpster.

The prettiest kitten you’d ever seen blinked at you.

Despite the rain that soaked it to the bone, you could make out pure white fur that was tarnished by mud and water. Flattened ears and a pink nose.

The most notable feature of the animal was its eyes.

The brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Like the cloudless sky on a summer day. The color of a calm, peaceful lake, with barely a ripple of disturbance. There was so much life packed within those eyes. They almost put you in a trance, and momentarily made you forget the rain and the harshness of the wind. The warmth and peace that lingered beneath those irises was enough to push away the cold.

A smile spread across your face as you crouched even lower, hoping you’d make yourself seem less threatening.

“Hi there.” You cooed at the cat, who only stared right back. “Are you lost?”

When you reached out, the creature barely flinched. It appeared more confused than anything as you stroked the top of its head before dropping down to scratch its cheek.

Eventually, your affections seemed to win the cat over to your side. Before long, it leaned into your touch, as if enjoying your petting. Happy at the progress you made in such a short time, you attempt to lift it from the grimy ground. Thankfully, the cat allowed you without much fuss. You tucked it under your arms, keeping it in the shelter of your umbrella. Considering how well it did with strangers, it was clear the cat was domesticated. Did it slip away from its owner when they weren’t looking?

“Poor thing.” You were awed by the sweet little kitten. “Where’s your owner?”

You continued to observe it. No collar. No distinct marking of a claim. You debated going online on missing pet forums. Maybe someone reported the poor guy.

How long had the poor thing been outside? It couldn’t have been any more than a day. The cat was practically a white beacon begging to be noticed. There’s no way this cat wouldn’t have been snatched up by a predator if you hadn’t stumbled upon it. In the harsh city environment, it was utterly helpless.

You hummed, glancing up at the sky.

“Looks like we’re both caught in this weather.” You talked out loud. “It’s a good thing we found each other, right?”

The cat continued to stare at you with large blue eyes. You smiled before tucking it into the warmth of your coat.

“You’re okay now.” You told it. “I’ll keep you safe.”

You knew you were just seeing things, but you swore the cat understood you, somehow.)

“Does it look like it’s going down?” A voice asked.

The man stood by your side, peering out the same window you were. You watched as his sunglasses crept over his nose, close to dropping down, before you glanced away.

“No.” You told him. “I don’t think the rain will stop for a long while.”

He hummed in agreement. “If we waited for it to stop, we’d probably be stuck here for hours.” He didn’t sound too upset at that, you couldn’t help but note to yourself.

You nodded along. Just like the rest of the week, tonight had ended in a bust. No Snowbell. No cat. You were stuck in a warm building after eating a delicious meal, while your cat was probably out in the cold somewhere, waiting for you.

Something stung in the back of your eyes.

You were a shitty pet owner.

“I saw him yesterday.”

Your eyes snapped up to meet his. He stared right at the glass. You waited for him to say something more, but he remained silent.

“Was he–” You swallowed. Your mouth felt dry. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah.” He told you. “He looked great. You took great care of him. I can tell.”

Relief snagged at your heart, weighing your shoulders down with a type of pain you’d never felt before.

“I tried to catch him, but he was a bit too slippery for me.” He clicked his tongue.

You failed to muffle your laugh. Snowbell had easily coaxed himself into your arms the first night you found him. You shouldn’t have been proud of this, but you felt something oddly like pride to know you were the only person he cuddled up to.

“Thank you.” You told him. “For the meal and for letting me know you saw him. It was really nice of you to do all of that.”

Outside, the rain dwindled ever so slightly. In the morning, a light fog would drift over the city, suffocating the streetlamps and the roads. The potholes in the streets would be filled with soot and water far into the afternoon with the sun blaring overhead. A bare heat would fill the city, gentle from the rain, but still warm.

“You really miss the guy, don’t you?” He asked.

You didn’t bother to answer. It’s not like you ever tried to hide your desperation. Everyone in your life thought you were crazy for losing it over a pet as you had in the past days. No one told it to your face, but you knew that’s what they thought. To others, you were some cat-crazed person who wandered the streets. You did miss him. You missed him more than anything.

“I don’t think the rain will stop anytime soon,” you said, “I'd better go before it gets too late.”

“I could drive you back,” he suggested.

You shook your head, insisting you’d be fine. You expected him to push back at your refusal. He seemed to take your rejection in stride, reaching out with something in his lithe fingers.

“Take this, then.” He settled the bundled-up umbrella into your limp hand. You recognized what it was after you instinctively grabbed it.

“No, it’s fine—“ You tried to insist, but he waved you off.

“Just take it. I’d hate for you to walk out in this weather without one. You should’ve had an umbrella in the first place.” He berated you, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

“Just give it back when we search for your kitty.”

You blinked up at him.

“We?” You repeated his words.

He nodded eagerly. “You planned on searching for him tomorrow, right?”

Of course you were, and the day after that, too.

“I’ll come with you.” He declared. “Two heads are better than one, right?”

What was so appealing about skulking outside, searching for the slightest hint of white fur? This man was such an enigma; you didn’t understand him. You knew you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The more eyes you have, the better. Yet, you couldn’t help the feeling that rested in your stomach.

“Why?” You asked, but it sounded more like a demand. “Why do you want to help me?”

The man tilted his head downward. The softest laugh left his lips at the same moment his sunglasses slipped down his nose.

His eyes.

The brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Like the cloudless sky on a summer day. The color of a calm, peaceful lake, with barely a ripple of disturbance. There was so much life packed within those eyes. They almost put you in a trance, and momentarily made you forget the rain and the harshness of the wind. The warmth and peace that lingered beneath those irises was enough to push away the cold.

They looked familiar.

“I knew somebody who lost their pet, once,” He told you as his lips quirked up. “It’s a sad thing. No one should go through that.”

Everything he said sounded like a joke, but you saw the sincerity in his eyes.

“This person.” You glanced outside when the sear of his gaze got too much. “Did they ever end up finding their pet?”

He nodded. You didn’t know why that gave you so much relief.

“If you have time tomorrow, then yes,” you said, “I’d really appreciate the help. Thank you.”

“Great!” He clapped his hands together before pulling out his phone. “Let’s exchange numbers, so we can meet up tomorrow.”

You agreed, wordlessly handing him your phone before you realized something.

“I don’t even know your name.” You said out loud.

He laughed again.

“Gojo Satoru.” He introduced before raising a finger in the air to point at you. “But you should call me Satoru.”

You hesitantly received your phone from his hands. The contact name ‘Satoru :3’ stared back at you.

“We should speak more comfortably with each other. After all, we’re gonna be kitty hunting buddies, right? ”

🐾

(The best thing about Snowbell was how sweet he was.

Not just to you (but mostly to you). He was loved by everyone on your floor. Children like Dani adored him, and often asked about him whenever you ran into her. You’ve read that cats were often aloof and hated strangers, but Snowbell wasn’t like that at all. He was liked by everyone and everyone loved him.

And then, Hatori came along.

You’d known Hatori for a while, actually. You two weren’t friends–barely a step up from acquaintances. He was a nice guy and you two were similar in age. Whenever you passed him by in the halls, you made small talk but you never went out of your way to do anything more.

So when you briefly mentioned having a plumbing issue and Hatori offered to take a look at it, you accepted immediately.

“Thanks again.” You told him as you led him into your apartment. “Seriously, it’s been driving me up the wall. All that noise.”

“I get it.” He assured you. “The one in your kitchen, right?”

You nodded. A fluff of white caught your attention. You were about to point your cat out to Hatori when all Hell broke loose.

Snowbell made a sound that was almost demonic before he rushed at Hatori. You barely stopped him before he could get to Hatori’s foot, holding him up by the scruff as he thrashed around in your hold. You kept him to your chest as your cat continued his onslaught. If looks could kill, Hatori would’ve been dead ten times over by now.

“I’m sorry.” You told Hatori as Snowbell continued to thrash and struggle. It was getting harder and harder to keep a hold on him. “He–he’s usually not like this.”

Hatori stepped closer to the door.

“I should go.” He concluded.

“I’m sorry.” You told him again.

Snowbell didn’t stop until Hatori was long gone. His fit was bad. At one point, he’d even hacked something up because of how stressed he was. You coddled him the best you could, apologizing to him over and over. He settled in your arms hours later and peacefully purred into your chest as you stroked his head.

You’d never seen him act like that before, but maybe you were wrong about him liking everyone. Maybe he had a bad experience with men and that’s why he acted like that? You should probably bring it up to your vet the next time you go to the clinic.

Either way, this was the last time you’d ever bring Hatori over.

You kissed the top of Snowbell’s head. His pretty blue eyes blinked up at you.

“Don’t worry,” you cooed, “you’re the only man for me.)

Twenty minutes later, Satoru still hadn’t arrived.

You crossed your arms as you lingered near the streetlight. People meandered their way through the busy street all around you. As the minutes ticked on, you grew more and more frustrated. You should have expected this. From the short while you’d known Satoru, he was not the most punctual guy in the world.

He turned up eventually, practically skipping up to you with a smile on his face.

“Didn’t have to make you wait too long, right?” He grinned, completely ignoring the frown on your face.

“I was about to leave.” You chastised. “You need to be more respectful of people’s time.”

He raised his arms up in a semblance of an apology.

“Whoops, my bad,” he said, “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose. I’ve been swamped at school. Lots of stuff to catch up on ‘cuz I took an unprompted vacation a few weeks ago.”

He mentioned being a teacher a couple of times, but you can’t imagine him doing that. Sitting around and grading papers doesn’t seem like the type of job Satoru excelled at, but maybe that was just because you saw this side of him rather than anything professional.

“Okay!” He clasped his hands together. “So far, we’ve checked the area around your apartment. Maybe we should broaden the search a little.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, your initial frustration waning.

“Maybe we should stop thinking like humans and start thinking like cats.” He told you with the utmost seriousness. “Places like underneath bridges and dark places scared little kitties might crawl into for shelter.”

That was a pretty good point, actually. There was a chance Snowbell wandered off somewhere, maybe in a crevasse you wouldn’t think to look for him in.

With a plan secured, the two of you set off. You and Satoru checked wherever you could think of: underneath bridges, in the park, and on the outskirts of a clump of trees. Each time, you came up empty. Any cat you did see never resembled Snowbell in the tiniest bit. They were often so skittish and wary of humans, shrinking away when you came close.

You still left a bit of wet food for them when you turned away. Maybe it had to do with your lost pet, but any stray cat chipped away at your heart.

Satoru passed the time as he often did, talking and yammering about anything he could. So far, the two of you had gone ‘hunting’ five or so times–each trip ending in nothing. Despite how disappointed you were after every failure, Satoru was more chipper than ever. Most would find how talkative he was absolutely annoying, but you didn’t mind one bit. His upbeat attitude felt comforting, like it was his own way of assuring you everything would be okay.

You often felt like you knew him forever. However, it was more realistic to assume you’d known him for three weeks at most. Maybe even less. He was just that type of person. That personality of his reminded you of Snowbell. He was a little like that too, yowling like he was trying to start a conversation with you even though you didn’t understand his language.

Lots of little things Satoru did reminded you of Snowbell, actually.

A couple hours into the search, Satoru suggested taking a break. You didn’t argue.

“There’s a cafe a little ways from here.” Satoru suggested. “I love their coffee.”

You’d seen the surgery contraptions he calls ‘coffee’ and you’d rather not relive that experience. Also, everytime Satoru brought you to a restaurant, he always insisted on paying, leaving you more and more guilty for taking advantage of him. These outings were starting to feel less like searches and more like dates.

You almost laughed, but you held your tongue. Ridiculous. He was just being a nice guy.

“My place isn’t that far from here,” you said as you turned to him. “Let’s just stop there and I can make us something to eat.”

For the first time, Satoru genuinely looked lost for words. He blinked at you behind his sunglasses.

“You never let me pay.” You explained. “The least you could do is let me cook for you.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Sure! Let’s go!”

You eyed him. He reeled himself back.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve had a home cooked meal,” he told you.

“Hm.” You walked away, not at all fighting the urge to tease him a bit. “So, what. You’ve just been surviving on instant noodles this whole time? Poor baby.”

“I eat.” He told you after he caught up to your pace. “How else do you think I got these muscles?” He playfully flexed but even underneath those baggy clothes you saw his bicep. You forced your eyes away and hoped he didn’t notice.

“Let’s just get you something before those precious muscles of yours get all flabby.”

You let him into your house ten minutes later. Satoru walked in and slipped off his shoes. He placed them next to yours before he looked around.

His steps were slow as he surveyed your home. You watched as he walked up to a window, hands drifting over the glass.

“...Smaller than I remember.” You heard him say.

“What?” You asked.

He pointed out the window.

“From the ground, the buildings look a lot bigger, right? But when we’re up here, they are a lot tinier,” he said.

Right, of course that’s what he meant.

He wandered to your photographs, scanning over the various knick-knacks and other things you’ve kept over the years. He smiled when he caught the lone picture of Snowbell, framed and proudly displayed. He lightly tapped on the glass.

“What a cutie,” he told you.

You agreed, stepping closer to admire the picture as well. Snowbell had always loved attention and he was oddly very photogenic. Anytime you whipped your camera out, he would stretch and purr and create these adorable poses for you to snap away at. You often wondered if you should make an instagram for him so more people could enjoy his adorableness.

Maybe you missed your chance.

“Seriously, the cutest little guy.” Satoru continued. “Terrible name choice, though.”

You rolled your eyes. This argument again. You couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose or if he genuinely had a personal vendetta against the name ‘Snowbell’.

“It’s a cute name,” you argued back.

“It’s uncreative. Especially for a work of art like that.” He pointed to the picture of your cat. “Lemme’ guess, you’d name a black and white cat oreo.”

‘Cow would be cuter,’ you thought, but you decided not to give him more ammo.

“It just stuck. Besides, I didn’t come up with the name. My neighbor did.”

It was a couple days after you brought the cat home. Back then, you weren’t sure if you were keeping him. His original name was even more uncreative–‘Cat’. Then, when you were helping Tachibana lug up groceries, her daughter asked if she could see photos. After showing her the numerous pictures you snapped of ‘Cat’, Dani excitedly exclaimed how similar ‘Cat’ looked to the cat in ‘Stuart Little’. Thanks to her, ‘Cat’ turned into ‘Snowbell’.

“Ah,” Satoru said after your tangent, “So Dani came up with the name, then.”

You nodded, but then you blinked.

“How did you know her name?” You asked.

“You mentioned her,” Satoru breezily replied.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Pretty sure you did.” He smiled. “How else would I know?”

Your mouth opened, when a knock came from the door. You decided to table the discussion for now.

You smiled when you saw who it was.

“Hatori!” You greeted. “What brings you here?”

Hatori lingered by the door, polite and reserved as always. He gave a pleasant wave.

“Hey, hope I’m not a bother,” he said, “just hoping I could borrow a cup of sugar.”

You gave a smile. This isn’t the first time he asked for favors like that. You didn’t mind. It was nice to see a sweet tooth that doesn’t go overboard with his sugar like somebody you knew.

Like he’d been summoned, Satoru appeared behind you. You bumped into his chest just as you were about to let Hatori inside. He was so close. You could feel his breath on your back. His faded cologne lingered in the air.

You glanced up. Through his sunglasses, Satoru full-on glared at Hatori.

He’d never looked that upset before. Usually he was all goofy and happy-go-lucky. Now, he was stiff, coiled up like a spring.

“Sorry.” Satoru gave a smile filled with sharp teeth. Had he always had fangs? “We’re all out.”

Hatori blinked. So did you. He reacted first.

“Sorry.” Hatori narrowed his eyes and he looked between you and Satoru. “Who are you exactly?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Satoru reached past you and slammed the door in Hatori’s face.

You remained frozen even after Satoru retreated back into the apartment, slumping onto the couch.

“Uh, what was that?” You demanded after a bit of recovering.

“What?” Satoru whined, immediately going back to his usual attitude. You wondered if you imagined it all. “He was bothering you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“He wasn’t bothering me. He’s my neighbor.”

“You should stay away from him.” Satoru finally told you.

You stared at him as he lounged over your couch as though he owned it. Sunlight streamed through your window, illuminating his hair.

You should have been mad at him. You should have kicked him out. And yet, you could still remember his presence imprinted on your back as he kept you on him. You wondered when your heartbeat would slow down.

“Why?”

“He’s bad juju,” he responded. “I can feel it.”

You gave him a look. “Right. Okay.”

“I can tell with these types of things!” He argued back. “Stay away from him. He’s bad news. He might make spiders crawl out of your sink!”

You rolled your eyes and turned away.

“Do you want food or do you just want to make more conspiracy theories about my neighbor being a spider whisperer?”

“Food, please.” Satoru immediately sprung up from the couch and followed you into the kitchen.

Again, you knew you should’ve been more upset with him. Yet, you weren’t.

It oddly felt familiar.

🐾

The cold made the alcohol bearable.

It warmed your stomach, flushing your cheeks with heat as you felt the burn travel down your throat. When you were younger, you despised the taste of alcohol. You could never understand why anyone would willingly drink the stuff.

These days, you still didn't understand, and yet you drank anyway.

You had to stop soon, but for now, you tossed your head back in reflex, taking another gulp. The bar remained sparse of people. There was nobody in the corner you stashed yourself in, surrounded by empty glasses. You preferred this. You don’t want anyone seeing how miserable you were.

Six weeks had passed since you last saw Snowbell. Truthfully, you stopped looking for him by the second. It was clear what happened to him.

He was dead.

If the universe was merciful, his death was quick. Maybe a predator snatched him up before he blinked. Other deaths sounded far more gruesome: eating something poisonous and collapsing on the hard floor of a cold alley, being hit by a car, or just starving to death.

A more hopeful part of you still believed he might have been picked up before you could send those missing posters out. He was a pretty kitty. His white fur was long and his fluffy tail curled so elegantly. His sweet blue eyes were wide and earnest. The chance of someone seeing him out and about and falling in love with him the same way you did was highly plausible.

Maybe they had seen the posters and just didn’t want to give him back. You think you would be fine with that. You just wanted to know he was okay. A sign. The slightest hint of–

“-Started without me, I see?” A voice teased from your left.

You didn’t bother looking up.

“You don’t drink.” You reminded him, but you didn’t argue when Satoru slipped into the seat across from you.

“Still, it hurts to be left behind.” He arched his plush lips into a faux pout before his mischievous smile was back on his flawless face.

You didn’t even tell him you’d be here, and yet, he showed up anyway. That was always the thing with him. He always just showed up, no matter where you were.

His outfit mirrored the cold that lingered outside of the bar. He was dressed in an expensive looking coat, something that nicely shaped his shoulders and torso. His fluffy white hair contrasted with the dark sunglasses he always wore on his face as he surveyed the mess you surrounded yourself in.

You thought you were about to receive a lecture from him. His smile faded ever so slightly.

“You’ve been crying.”

You didn’t bother denying it. Slowly, you reached up, brushing at your face. Your eyes felt raw, your skin felt open and vulnerable. Your nose felt oddly stuffy, like you were recovering from a fever.

Satoru watched you. You gave a helpless shrug.

“It’s the same thing I’m always crying about.” You admitted. That’s all you really wanted to say, but the words suddenly started pouring out and you couldn’t help yourself.

“I know how stupid this all looks. Trust me, I’m aware.” You started, looking into the glass of your golden brown drink because looking at him would be too much. “He was just a cat. That’s what everyone says to me.”

‘You need to move on,’ ‘You should get another cat if you care that much’. You’d heard all those things and more. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hate the people who’ve said that to you. They wanted to help, in their own way. To them, it was more like watching a child bawl over a lost toy. They didn’t understand.

“He…he wasn’t just a cat to me.” You bit your lip. “He was family. So yeah, the thought of him out there in the cold, miserable. I…I just really hope he’s happy.”

You thought you felt tears prick into the corners of your eyes. You blinked them away.

When you looked at Satoru, you felt yourself frowning.

“Stop doing that.” You told him. Your voice was tight and stern.

“Stop doing what?” Satoru repeated.

“Stop smiling like that.” You insisted. “You always do that. You–you always get this really big smile whenever I start gushing about him.”

“I’m not smiling.” Satoru denied, while still openly smiling.

“Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't complain much further. He had this trick he liked to do sometimes. You just looked at him, and you instantly felt better, even a bit.

Snowbell used to have that effect on you, too. Anytime you cuddled with him, his presence washed away any stresses you had. There was just him and his soft fur.

Satoru laughed and shook his head.

“The way you speak of him…it’s nice.” He told you. “It’s nice to hear that. Your cat’s lucky to be so loved. I’m sure he’d be overjoyed to hear how much you missed him.”

You stared up at him.

“You think so?” You asked, your voice hushed.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He did that often, too. He talked about things like he knew more than he let on–like he knew a secret you didn’t.

Or maybe that’s just the way he talked. He’d always been so odd and eccentric. From the short time you’d known him, he always dragged you from one place to another. He was constantly rambling about things you couldn’t catch onto. You’d call him ditzy if you didn’t know any better.

“You know what I think you should do?” Satoru suddenly piped up.

You looked up at him questioningly.

“I think you need something to get your mind off of the whole thing. Clear your head!”

You glanced around at where you were, what you were doing. Yeah, this was getting a bit pathetic.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Like what?”

His smile curled in mischief.

🐾

“What am I supposed to be waiting for, again?”

“Just hold on.” Satoru’s muffled voice came.

You crossed your arms, but you stayed put. Satoru’s apartment was huge. Even from your place on the lavish couch, you could see the wealth sprawled across his place. A bit empty, like he barely lived there.

Presently, he had tucked himself inside his room and told you ‘It’s a surprise!’ You had no idea what he meant by that, but knowing him, he was probably going to come out in something extremely ridiculous. Your imagination took off without you. You could totally imagine him waltzing out after stuffing himself in a hot dog costume.

He didn’t come out in a hot dog costume. Somehow, his surprise was both less and more mortifying than that.

He still wore his usual black clothes, but there was a new accessory he styled himself with. On top of his head sat two white, fluffy ears. You stared at them in disbelief.

“Tada!” He posed like he just unveiled something.

You got up.

“I’m leaving.”

He was in front of you in a flash, reaching the door before you could. A nervous smile spread across his face as he tried to usher you back inside. You’d never seen him look so unsure before, it almost caught you off guard. With those fake cat ears on he looked even more ridiculous.

“Just hear me out for a second.” He tried to say. You glowered at him, but you relented, flopping back down to the couch.

“Think of it as a therapy exercise,” he finally suggested

“A therapy exercise,” you repeated, incredibly suspicious.

He nodded before sitting himself in the space next to you.

“Studies have shown that petting animals reduces stress in humans and all that, right?” Satoru pondered, but a part of you wondered if he was pulling all this out of his ass. “Since we don’t have a cat right now, well…this is the next best thing!”

You stared at him, wondering if he truly thought you were this stupid. His glasses were off, abandoned back in his bedroom, so the blue of his eyes could stare right into you.

“Try it!” Satoru suggested, tilting his head down to show off his new ears.

Well, Satoru has always been a bit weird, right? He was strange, constantly blabbering about things that never made sense, but he was harmless. From the short time you knew him, he’d never revealed himself to be anything but that.

You sighed, but you reached up and gently patted his ears, hoping that would be the end of it.

They were softer than they looked. Almost delicate in nature. The fur was clearly fake but it was smooth and silky and the blooming pink hidden underneath the fur of the ears had such a deep resemblance to your own lost kitty.

“There.” You told him as you pulled away, albeit a bit reluctantly.. “Is our therapy session over?”

“Not yet.” He cheerfully replied. “We got movies too! You’ll love this one! It’s about a cat who wastes all his previous eight lives, and now he’s on his ninth and…”

You tuned out of his rambles, already knowing how this night will end. Truthfully, you didn’t mind a movie night with Satoru. He was fun to hang out with. Maybe a movie night would be good for you–it would cheer you up.

You thought it had to do with those eyes, mostly; they were why you were so agreeable to go along with his whims. A part of you thought he was well aware of your kryptonite, but you could never prove it.

An hour or so later, you were well into the movie when you glanced down at your lap. The setting changed. Satoru ordered pizza a while back and inhaled three whole slices before you finished even one. Half-finished cans of soda laid on the table. When the movie started, you and him sat at a respectable distance between each other.

Now, Satoru’s head settled on your lap with your hand absentmindedly drifting across his hair and faux ears.

The shade of the cat ears almost blended into ivory locks. His hair was soft, just as silky and smooth as that stupid prop he still wore. You wondered what products he used, if he used any at all when Satoru caught you looking at him.

He blinked slowly at you, like he’s fighting off sleep. Ivory, white lashes fluttered closed to meet the rounded parts of his cheeks before that brilliant blue spilled out open all over again. It was something Snowbell used to do. Once, you looked it up and discovered it was a way cats showed silent affection towards their owners.

You smiled. Satoru caught it.

“What?” He questioned.

You shook your head even before your mouth opened up.

“Do you remember the night we met?” You asked as the movie faded into the background.

He nodded and you wondered if he thought of the same night you were–the night when you were cold and wet and miserable and Satoru was a stranger holding out your phone with a smile you couldn’t decipher.

“It’s really strange.” You admitted. “You pop out of nowhere. You know my favorite foods–you know things I didn’t even know about myself. You’re always there when I need you the most.”

Your voice trailed off to a whisper when he rose up to meet you. He was so close and you realized just how many colors his eyes have. Colors you’ve named before: deep navy, rolling cobalt, the softest sapphire, the brightest tanzanite.

He looked into your eyes, too, and you wondered if he did the same thing you did.

“I’m good at reading people.” His voice was equally low and hushed.

“Are you?” You asked.

He tilted his head.

“Am I?” He repeated.

It’s like the world around you disappeared. The TV, Satoru’s living room, the bustling city, faded into irrelevance the longer you stared at him.

“There’s something about you.” You continued because there was nothing left to say. “I think I’ve felt it since the day we met, but I don’t think I could internalize it until now but there’s something familiar about you. I…”

‘I know I’m going insane, but I think you might be my cat.’

The words sat on your tongue, but you couldn’t bear to say it. It was all so ridiculous even as this full grown man sat in front of you wearing cat ears looking at you like you were everything in this universe. You wanted to laugh. Then, you wanted to cry. So much happened in just days and yet nothing happened either.

You were not sure who leaned in first, but neither of you pulled away.

His lips were soft. It was like his hair but a different texture. They were plump and full of life and adoration as he kissed you. A hand reached up to grab your cheek, holding you in place as he continued to kiss you.

You sighed into his mouth and Satoru stopped kissing you and started to eat you whole.

He pressed you into the sofa and you went down with a small ‘omph’ that he swallowed up too. Greedy, was the only word you thought as he kissed you again and again. He wanted it all, and he wouldn’t stop until he got it.

He only stopped when your head was spinning and you gave a low whine. Even then, he pulled away with such reluctance you could still taste it lingering on your teeth.

You were panting, heavy and needy and hot all over. He barely looked affected. His expression was oddly blank, like he was dazed. You would’ve believed he thought nothing of the kiss had it not been for the tight way he still held you, like he was terrified you’d disappear if he wasn’t constantly holding on. That, and the–

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Yeah?” You breathed. Your eyes trailed down to watch his Adam apple bob with anticipation.

The longing in his voice, it almost matched the intensity of his mouth. He burned so hot, you should have been afraid he’d burn you.

Instead, you reached up to pet the fluffy ears that rested just on his head. He shivered, eyes closing in a way you swore he could feel your fingers tickle the fur.

The slightest of smiles tugged at your lips. A tease.

“What else were you waiting for, pretty kitty?”

His eyes sharpened, there’s the softest hitch in his breath before he was on you all over again.

Rougher, pressing into you like he wanted to imprint his pattern all over your body so you could never forget his space and shape. Teeth that might have been fangs tugged at your lips as his fingers played with the hem of your shirt.

You shuddered as his long, lithe fingers crawled underneath your shirt, pushing it up and over your chest. The fabric pooled around your neck, proudly showcasing your tits, barely covered by the flimsy bra he was clearly eager to rip off.

His hands were cold as they pressed against your feverish skin. You felt goosebumps rise at just his touch as he reached for your bra to feel your tits. The fabric fell away and left you bare and utterly vulnerable to him.

He cursed, barely pulling back from devouring your lips to glance down at his unveiled treasure. Fingers tapped at your chest, eager to explore.

“Can I…?” He asked like you’d say no him–like you ever could.

Your nipples were hard and tender to the touch. A whine left your throat when he gripped them, squeezing at your supple flesh. It almost felt perverted and lingered on desperation.

“You’re so soft.” His tone almost made you laugh. It was like he could hardly believe it himself, needing to touch you more in order to truly prove that fact of the world.

You want to say something teasing when his mouth is dropping down again to lavish your jaw, trailing all the way to your neck and chest. He mapped your body with his lips and tongue before they finally landed on his prize.

“Satoru..” You could only sigh because he was barely touching you and you already felt everything. You relaxed against the pillows and the leather fabric, completely giving yourself to him. Heat pooled at your core as you twitched underneath him.

“Hm?” He asked, still lapping away at your skin. “It hurts, baby? Want me to make it better?”

He swirled his tongue over your nipples, flicking over them like he’s teasing the flesh. Eventually, he couldn’t help himself anymore. He took your entire nipple into his mouth, groaning as he did so, his voice vibrating your skin.

You felt like you were on fire, and yet, it was not enough. Your body was sparking and bursting into flames as you reached up to grab Satoru’s hair, keeping him there as he nuzzled and adored your tits. He’d barely done anything and you already felt like you were high. Your head was up in the clouds as he continued to ravish you.

“Satoru.”

Your voice was pitchy and drowned in want.

“Please please please.” You begged, uncaring to anything else. “Need you.”

He lifted himself from your chest with a loud, debaucherous pop. Your chest bounced lightly with the movement, nipples shiny and perky from his actions. You could already feel the ache on your skin. You were going to wake up tomorrow with marks all over you–you just knew it.

“Yeah?” He asked. His eyes were darker now, twinged with a type of hunger that should have scared you. His cheeks were flushed, dappled with the prettiest red you’d ever seen.

“Need me?” He repeated, hovering closer to your mouth, just inches away.

You nodded. His mouth curled.

“Gotta’ use your words. C’mon, you can do it.” He goaded, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek. You heard the condescension in his voice. In any other scenario, you might’ve just rolled your eyes. In this one, you wiggled your hips, helpless.

“Need you, please, Satoru,” you told him, “need you deep in–in my pussy.”

He shuddered at your words. There was the tiniest breath, a sigh of excitement, before he was pulling away to curl up at your hips. Eager hands gripped at your flesh, pulling down your shorts with a practiced ease.

“Oh, anything for you,” he said as he pulled apart your thighs to look at your vulnerable flesh.

“Anything.”

You were almost embarrassed at the way he looked at you. He practically drooled, licking his lips like he was trying to taste your heated scent. You expected him to rip off your panties the way he was clearly dying to, but instead he spread your thighs wider to lick up a stripe at your inner thigh. You jolted at the hint of teeth so close to your cunt.

“Bad kitty.” You tried to scold but it came out more like a whine. “Kitties don’t bite.”

“This one does.” He purred into your skin before biting you once more.

Just when you were about to complain again, he finally decided to put his mouth to proper use. Satoru eased off your panties, dragging them down your shaking thighs. He didn’t get them all the way off, like he did with the rest of your clothes. Instead, they tangled up your legs, leaving you completely exposed.

He took his prize like a vulture, swooping down to your cunt. His long tongue licked up and down the entire length of your pussy. Words melted back into your tongue as he worked your wet slit.

“Oh.” You sighed as Satoru’s head disappeared in between your thighs.

You thought he was saying something back. Something rested in his voice as he lapped deeply into your cunt lips–a dark tone you can’t place. You didn’t care. It didn’t matter as your thighs tightened around his head, like you wanted to keep him trapped there forever.

“Satoru.” You barely managed out as he licked the nub of your clit, lightly suckling on it as you felt a wave of tremendous pleasure roll down your back.

“Feel good, gorgeous? Don’t be shy, lemme hear you.” He said, his voice slightly muffled as he continued to eat you out.

As though to coax more sounds from your lips, his fingers delved into your pussy lips to rub slow circles onto your clit as his tongue entered your walls. You give him what he wanted, arching your back as your voice got louder and louder. You could hear the debaucherous slick sounds emanating from his mouth licking away at you. They were barely covered by your own moans of pleasure.

“That’s it. Fuck.” He hissed into your trembling thighs as you felt yourself tense up.

“You sound so cute when you feel good.” Satoru purred. “I’m so glad I’m the one who made you feel like this. All for me.”

You barely registered the darkness in his words. At some point, your legs were propped up on either side of his shoulders. Your fingers fisted into his hair, coaxing him deeper into your wet, needy heat. Satoru barely needed the extra encouragement, eating your pussy like it was all he was made for–like he’d die if he did anything else.

Your whines crested into something else. Satoru picked up on it, eagerly moving forward and picking up his pace as your pussy walls trembled from the constant attention he gave you.

“Gonna come for me?” He pressed. “S’ okay. Let go, gorgeous. You can do it. Just a bit more–”

Your back arched, but Satoru anchored your hips, keeping you in place as your orgasm rushed through you. It was the strongest you’d ever come, wave after wave of pleasure fizzed up your toes as they flexed and curled to assuage the intensity.

Satoru kept going until your body flopped down, exhausted by his ministrations. Even then, he only pulled away when your whines turned into pathetic begs of ‘too much’. You watched him rise from in between your legs with bleary eyes. He wiped away his mouth with the back of his hand, never taking his eyes off you.

You must have looked like a mess as you lied there, breathless. He wasn’t much better. His cheeks were dappled in pinks and red as his blue eyes simmered with ocean foam.

“Come here.” Your arms felt like cement but you reached up anyway, caressing his hot skin, coaxing him down. He followed like he was leashed, tethered to your fingers, crashing his lips onto your own.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, sour and sweet. You wondered what he was tasting as he ate your pussy, absolutely relentless. It felt like he’d happily suffocate in between your thighs, lapping away at your folds for the rest of eternity.

That didn’t sound too bad. A part of you hungered to push his head down to your clit again, let him worship your cunt in waves of ecstasy.

But another part of you felt something hot and heavy rest at your thigh, barely obscured by the denim of his jeans.

“Was I good?” He asked between feverish kisses, bringing you back to him.

“Mmh,” you agreed as his teeth nibbled on your bottom lip. “You were so good,” It’s all you could say, mind muddled and soupy by the orgasm.

Satoru moved down, lavishing your jaw and upper throat in kisses.

“Such a good boy–good little kitty.” He practically melted at your words, whining at your throat as you stroked his hair and fluffy ears.

“Yeah?” He asked, lips pulling away from your collarbone.

You nodded. “The best boy.” You continued as you wiggled your hips with need. “But Satoru–”

“I know.” He pulled away, and you mourned his warmth before you saw the way he straddled you as he fiddled with his belt.

“I’m hurtin’ too, gorgeous. Waited months for this.” Months? But hadn’t you met Satoru five weeks ago?

You ignored every alarm bell ringing in your head just in time to see his cock bob between his strong thighs. He looked painfully hard. Precum leaked from a mushroom-shaped tip as his cock touched your bare thigh.

Your mouth watered.

“Ready, baby?” That growl in his voice was back again as he leaned over, chest hovered above your own.

You never broke eye-contact as you licked your lips. You could still taste remnants of him in your mouth.

“Fuck me, Satoru.”

His eyes flashed. He was going to ruin you. You couldn’t care less. You wanted him to.

His cock slipped through your folds, teasing at your clit, still wet from him earlier. Your eyes rolled back into your skull at the first press of him at your battered pussy. You hissed at the same time he did, but you still managed to keep your eyes on him, wanting to admire what you did to him.

His expression was almost pained as he eased himself deeper into your cunt. His eyebrows were pinched together, and his jaw was clenched like he was physically holding back from crying out at the mere touch of your warmth. It looked like he was doing everything he could to stop himself from coming the moment he entered your pussy. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore, collapsing into your shoulder to whine at your shoulder.

“I–I can’t do it.” He whined but you could still feel his cock stretching out your hole. “You’re so warm and tight. Feels like–like I’m home.” He babbled.

You tried to laugh, but it came out as a strangled moan.

“Don’t say stupid”-- You barely stifled a moan as he pushed himself deeper inside you–”things like that.”

He bottomed out with a stuttered gasp, clinging onto you like you were his lifeline. You’d never felt more full in your entire life. He pressed all the way into your womb. If you looked down, you were half-afraid you’d see his cock imprint itself onto your belly.

“Fuck.” Satoru hissed in your ear. “Look at you. You’re…you’re a perfect fit.”

If you could speak, you might’ve agreed. His cock stretched you out oh so nicely, each curve nestled into the deepest, wettest part of you. A spit of precum dribbled out of your stuffed hole, lecherously coating your pussy lips.

“You okay?” Satoru asked when you shuddered underneath him.

You nodded, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“Can I move?”

“Please.” Your voice was soft and keening. “Please, please move, ‘toru–”

“Shit, quit that.” He lightly berated. “I’m tryna hold back but your voice drives me crazy…moving, so hold on, gorgeous.”

You moved on instinct, rather than on his order. A particular thrust left you gasping, making you reach up and cling onto his smooth nape. Satoru barely flinched at you clawing at him, curling his lips as he continued to stuff you full.

The way he fucked you was messy, bordering on desperation as he drilled you into the couch. The stretch against your walls left you breathless and panting for more. The cool air of Satoru’s apartment felt like aloe against your heated skin as he picked up the pace, filling you up with his cock over and over again.

“Shit. You feel like heaven.” He said through gritted teeth. “You’re squeezing me so good–do you feel good? Am I making you feel good?” It didn’t even feel like dirty talk. It felt like he was genuinely asking, scarfing down any lick of praise as he continued to drill you against the sofa.

Your pussy spasmed around his cock, bearing down on him like you never wanted to let him go. Your thighs were painfully clenched as you wrapped your legs around his narrow waist. A hand dropped down from Satoru’s neck to your clit.

Before you could relieve the pressure, Satoru snatched it up. He grabbed your wrists holding them above your head. He reached down with his other, circling your clit with his thumb and turning your head into mush all over again.

“Oh, yes,” your eyes rolled up as his cock pistoned into you. “Satoru its–its–”

“I know, baby.” Satoru lowered himself so his cock hit something deep and spongy inside of you. “Just gotta hold on a bit more. I’ll take care of you.”

Something rumbled in his throat. It almost sounded like he was purring as he rutted into you, and maybe that should have been your final sign, but you could hardly care less as you creamed around his cock. Your mind floated as he fucked you the way he wanted to, the way you begged him too. It was an endless build up that seemed to last for centuries.

Your orgasm hit the minute he slammed his cock into that spot all the way inside of you, rolling away at your clit at the same time. Your back arched as you came around his thick cock. Your pussy milked him for all its worth, gushing around him as Satoru staggered and swayed above you.

He didn’t last all that long after. There was a feral snarl before his cum sprayed all the way inside your womb. There was so much of it. Some dribbled out of your sore pussy all over your cunt lips.

Minutes later, when you barely put yourself together after that mind-numbing orgasm, you could still feel Satoru deep inside you. His head settled into the crook of your neck as he tried to regain his breath. You felt butterfly kisses across your skin as he lavished you in exhausted affection.

You stopped him when he tried to pull out, using the last bit of your strength to cinch your legs around his waist.

“Stay,” you mumbled, “‘feels nice.”

He smiled against your neck. You felt his arms wrap around your waist as he laid down with you. The couch was probably a snug fit considering how tall Satoru was, but you could hardly care less.

“Yeah?”

You hummed. You thought he said something else but you were too tired to care. Nestled in the arms of a man who fucked you silly was a good position to pass out in.

Just before you fell asleep, you noticed the funniest thing.

Between the pussy eating and the rapid fucking, those stupid, fluffy ears still remained on top Satoru’ head.

🐾

You woke up to sore legs and an aching body.

Your stiff limbs complained whenever you moved. Blearily, you opened your eyes. Sunlight poured in through a window. It was late-morning, at the very least.

Your environment also changed. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep next to Satoru’s warm chest on his sofa. Now the only thing you felt below you was a springy mattress and fluffy pillows. You laid naked underneath a bulky blanket.

Satoru was nowhere to be found, but the spot beside you was warm. Outside the room, you distantly heard a muffled phone call. Bits and pieces.

“Lost the curse user? That’s fine…got really curious about the…nah, it was my fault for getting caught up in that…yeah, I guess things mostly worked out…should thank him, honestly–”

You must have dozed off. When you opened your eyes again, Satoru was underneath the sheets with you. He watched you with a strange smile on his face, propping his chin up with his hand. His white hair was tousled like he’d never left. He was shirtless, proudly showing his bare skin when the light marks you left on him. With slight disappointment, you noted his cat ears were gone.

“What?” He asked, noticing your souring mood.

You scowled and turned away from him.

“You bit me,” you said, pulling an excuse out of the air. “‘Can’t believe you did that. Get out. I’m banning you from the bed.” You lightly nudged him with your foot.

Neither of you acknowledged that it was his bed in his apartment. Instead, Satoru whined, slumping over you in a bear hug.

“I’m sorry!” He kissed your shoulder, lightly licking over a mark he made the night before. “Please forgive me!” He caught onto your smile. “You’re into groveling? I’ll keep that in mind for next time–”

“Shut up.” You lightly scolded, but you sank into his hold regardless.

“Can I use your shower?” You asked after a few minutes of cuddling. As much as you liked this moment, your skin still felt clammy from last night.

“I can draw us a bath.” Satoru rubbed his cheek against yours with a satisfied sigh. “I got lavender scented bubbles and everything.”

“That sounds nice.” You nodded, but neither of you moved.

He practically invited himself into your shower time, but you didn’t mind. It was a little cute how eager he was. Or maybe that was just you missing every sign in the book. After all, this guy spent weeks and weeks helping you skulk around outside searching for your cat. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so surprised he was this forward.

Speaking of your cat….

“Satoru?” You called.

There was a hum against your skin as his head buried into the crook of your neck.

“I don’t think I need to worry about Snowbell anymore.” You tell him. “I…think he’s fine. Wherever he is.”

“Yeah.” Satoru said in this voice that you couldn’t read. “Wherever he is.”

You needed to shower, but he was so warm and the bed was so soft and perfect. You couldn’t help but drift off again, letting Satoru cling onto you. Distantly, you wondered maybe….