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It takes about two weeks of teaching at Leeves for Rean’s newly established routine to get turned on its head.
By now, he’s gotten pretty used to daily life here at the Branch Campus. Wake up, prepare for the day’s classes, go to school and teach, do the rounds and check if anyone needs assistance, go back to the dormitory, sleep. All in all, it’s not too different from those idyllic first few months when he’d first enrolled in Thors, and maybe that’s why the alarm bells in his head start ringing a little loudly at the first sign of an abnormality—a commotion by the shed as he walks through the academy field.
Rean’s head jerks up. He focuses his senses, and there—muffled voices and panicked hisses. It doesn’t sound like anything particularly dangerous, but better safe than sorry; Rean walks briskly over, ensuring his footfalls are as quiet as possible.
As he approaches the shed, the voices become clearer, even as hushed as they are. “—so what do we do? Should we hide them?”
“Oh, it’ll be fine! None of the instructors nor the principal seem like the kind of people who’ll mind.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Instructor Michael seems rather strict.”
“Ugh, you’re telling me.”
“Heehee, but doesn’t he have that charm about him? Like a cool, professional authority figure!”
“…”
“…Yeah, no comment.”
As Rean listens in, he feels the tension drain out of him. Right. Just students being students. Nothing to worry about, and really, he shouldn’t have expected anything else. Still, his curiosity is piqued now—he trusts that none of the students here will get up to anything truly immoral, but something that Major Michael might disapprove of? It’s a bit of a cause for concern.
Rean peers stealthily around the shed wall. Sure enough, there lies the members of the tennis club, all crouched down and huddled in a circle surrounding… something. They’re still whispering frantically amongst each other, none of them noticing his presence in the slightest.
Rean steps forward and into view. Clears his throat deliberately. “Hi girls. What’s going on here?”
At his voice, all three of them jerk around. Juna’s eyes go wide, and she springs to her feet. “I-Instructor!” she sputters, voice reaching pitches that threaten to pierce Rean’s eardrums.
Instantly, Louise shushes her. “Quieter, Juna. You’ll scare them.”
Them? Rean’s ears prick.
As Juna wilts, mumbling a soft apology, Rean leans over, peeks around and over them. There, curled up in the grass, lies a singular cat, with four tiny kittens dozing right next to its furry belly.
Rean blinks once. Twice. “Oh,” he says.
Juna makes a noise vaguely equivalent to that of a dying whale. Jessica smacks her lightly on the calf.
“We found them here while we were setting up,” Louise is the one to explain, voice low and steady. Bare reges in front of her feet, one of the kittens snuffles. “I think the little ones are about one, two months old maybe? Sometime around then.”
“I see.” Rean crouches to better gaze at the kittens, and can feel himself visibly softening. Unfazed by the stupid humans crowding around her, the mother cat blinks slowly up at them, fluffy gray tail flicking. The urge to pet her is strong. Rean resists valiantly. “Should we move them somewhere safer?”
“I’d advise against it. They might get more stressed if we try to do anything,” Louise says, placing a hand on her cheek. She smiles. “Besides, it’s already a pretty safe place for them here. Won’t you agree, instructor?”
Rean chuckles. “Well, you aren’t wrong, I suppose.”
“S-So,” Juna cuts in, and when Rean turns his head to glance at her, she looks back at him with her still wide eyes, wringing her hands together. “It’s okay?”
Rean cocks his head. Furrows his brow. “…What’s okay?”
“Um.” Juna fidgets. “That, you know. They’re here. And they can stay and all that.”
Despite the almost negligible age gap between them, it’s hard not to think of the students as kids sometimes. Rean bites back the smile threatening to overtake his lips. “Of course, Juna. Even if we did have a policy on stray animals here, it’d be a near impossible task to actually enforce it, given the campus’ size and location.”
A furious, luminous blush blooms over Juna’s face. “Sh-shut up! I knew that!”
“Of course you did,” Jessica mutters. Juna smacks her lightly on the arm, opens her mouth to hiss back, when Louise gasps.
“Oh! They’re waking up!”
In an instant, all the attention turns back to the kittens. Sure enough, one begins to rouse, blinking open sleepy eyes and stretching its limbs out—and inadvertantly paws its sibling in the face. With the movement comes a domino effect; all of the kittens awakening one by one, toddling onto their paws like walking balls of fluff.
Juna claps her hands over her mouth to muffle a squeal. Louise coos, and even Jessica seems enraptured; Rean watches them, fondness suffusing his heart. Not that he can blame them. The kittens really are too adorable, he has to admit. They’ve clearly taken after their mother—fuzzy silver gray fur, fluffy triangle ears, tiny noses and wide eyes. Rean’s gaze catches on the smallest of the litter, the poor thing mewing pitifully as it’s knocked over by its larger siblings.
It gets up onto its small little paws. Cries out softly, like a call for help, as it turns to look up at the humans surrounding it. And all Rean sees in its pleading gaze is a striking, familiar red.
Rean’s breath hitches. For a moment, a different set of eyes flashes into Rean’s mind. Just as quickly as it comes to him, he shakes the thought away, and shifts his gaze to focus on one of the other kittens. They’re a welcome distraction, and soon he can feel himself settling back into his own skin, shoulders untensing.
For a while, Rean lets himself watch. Steadily, as their grogginess fades, the kittens begin tussling, bowling each other over with pounces and tiny yelps. It’s a healing scene, and Rean can feel his exhaustion slipping away with every moment; but time waits for no man, and eventually he stands. “Seems you girls have this well in hand,” he says, smiling at them. “I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Jessica and Louise nod compliantly, while Juna looks away with puffed out cheeks and a blush. “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles.
Rean turns and walks away, feeling relatively cheerful. The birth of new lives is always a good thing.
The news spreads fast, as it usually tends to do in large groups of teenagers.
Soon, the academy field becomes filled with a daily ruckus that’s only a fraction due to the tennis club. Students linger around to catch glimpses of the kittens; some of them bring treats, and others toys. Once, Rean catches Ash crouched by the shed, a small grin on his face as the kittens chase after the feather wand he waves in the air. Witnessing his red hot cheeks and furious denials after the fact had been a highlight of Rean’s day.
Towa’s ecstatic. Instructor Randolph and Principal Le Guin seem exceedingly entertained. Major Michael looks like he’s bitten into a lemon whenever he’s reminded of the students’ new distraction, but even he softens under the power of a tiny kitten rolling around in the grass.
Not that Rean has any room to talk. With the academy field being a natural stopping point on his afterschool rounds, and his almost pathological desire to be helpful to anyone and anything, Rean inadvertantly ends up becoming the litter’s most frequent visitor—though that’s not to say he minds. It’s far too endearing, the way the kittens swarm to greet him whenever he comes bearing their dinner, each stumbling over the other in the haste.
The day Rean’s life flips on its head yet again starts with one of those regular feeding sessions. It’s been a few weeks now; the kittens have grown up a little, become more adventurous. On occasion, Rean’s seen them wandering around campus, climbing into places they really shouldn’t. Has had to stop one of them from bounding cluelessly into the hangar, lest it face Professor Schmidt’s wrath. Still, despite their newfound wanderlust, they’re always present during dinner time, sitting and waiting for Leeves’ biggest sucker to arrive like clockwork.
As Rean steps behind the shed, the kittens race toward him. They twine themselves around his legs, meowing loudly as Rean almost trips over their tiny, furry bodies. Sitting elegantly by the side, the mother cat lifts a slow paw and grooms herself.
Rean laughs helplessly. “It’s coming, it’s coming,” he promises, crouching down with the plate and cat food in hand. The kittens crawl over him as he cracks opens the can, bat at his legs with soft paws as he scoops the food out. The moment he sets the plate down proper, the kittens pounce on it, gathering around it in a loose semi-circle as they lower their heads and dig right in. A moment later, their mother stalks gracefully forward to join them.
Rean watches them eat, lips curled up in a fond smile. It doesn’t take long for all of them to demolish everything he’s brought, and then they’re off to play, scampering around in the dirt and knocking each other over. Rean lets himself relax, attention fixed on them—until a soft, damp nose nudges at his wrist.
Rean startles, just slightly. Glances down. Meets that too familiar red gaze, in a scene that he’s quickly becoming used to.
He’s not exactly sure when or how it happened, but at some point, the little runt of the litter’s taking a liking to him. It’s taken to following him around campus, chasing after the ends of his coat and fighting with the buckles that meet the ground when he sits. Has become a presence so ordinary, so unobtrusive to Rean’s senses, that it once trailed him into class, and Rean hadn’t even noticed until the students started giggling.
There’s a pang in Rean’s heart, sometimes, when he looks at it. But it’s hard not to grow attached to that innocent face, its little plaintive mews as it stumbles after his long strides, struggling to keep up—Rean’s learned to walk a little slower, these days.
“Hey there, little guy,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand and stroking a finger over the top of its head, feather-soft. It purrs. And maybe he melts a bit.
Unfortunately, no good thing lasts forever. The schoolbell tolls, signalling the imminent closure of the gates, and Rean pushes himself up onto his feet. The other kittens barely pay attention to his movements—he really is just a walking vending machine to them, isn’t he? Rean smiles wryly, before turning to leave.
As he walks out of the field, his senses alert him to a tiny presence tottering after him. Rean already knows what he’s going to see, but he glances back anyway—sure enough, the runt is following him again. Rean stops. It nearly bumps into his boots.
“You should get back to your family,” Rean gently chastises the kitten, as if it understands him. Maybe it does. He’s met too many overly smart animals to doubt the possibility. “Go on now.”
The kitten blinks, slow, up at him.
Rean crouches. “You can’t follow me back. What about your siblings? Your mom? They’re all going to wonder where you ran off to.”
The kitten does not, in fact, appear to understand him. Or if it does, it completely ignores his words. What it does, instead, is take a small step forward, and place a single paw atop Rean’s boot.
Rean has faced down hordes of monsters, and human scum who act lower than them. Has gone onto the frontlines of war, and cut through swathes of anything and anyone that hoped to stand in Erebona’s path. He also may not be strong enough to withstand this.
Rean takes a deep breath, and stands back up. Maybe, he reasons with himself, it’ll go back once it sees the gates?
That quickly turns out to be mere wishful thinking. Right before Rean crosses the threshold, he stops again, and turns. The kitten’s tail sways slowly in the air.
“No,” says Rean. At this point, he’s not sure if it’s directed toward the kitten or himself. “You can’t come. Stay.”
The kitten takes a step forward.
“Bad kitty.”
Another.
“No!”
In retrospect, Badeaux had been an absolute angel growing up, Rean reflects, as the kitten stubbornly makes its way to the front of Rean’s boots. It nudges the toe of it with its nose.
And then it starts purring.
Rean gives in. He crouches down, scoops it up into his arms. The path to the dormitory may be a short walk for a human, but it’s a long distance for a tiny kitten, and Rean’d rather not risk its safety on the exposed roads. The kitten is unexpectedly docile; it curls up in his arms, doesn’t panic even when Rean accidentally jostles it as he makes his way back. Stays, still and quiet, until he finally reaches the dormitory and pushes the door open.
In an instant, the kitten leaps out of Rean’s arms, so quick and unexpected that he can’t react in time. It darts forward, disappears around a corner. Then comes a surprised squawk from the direction of the common room couch, and a loud clatter.
Rean races over. “Is everything alright?” he asks, panic slipping into his voice as he nearly skids on the floor. He’s promptly met with the dumbfounded face of Juna, and a far too entertained expression on Musse’s.
On the table lays a knocked over coffee mug—thankfully empty. Beside it stands the kitten, with shocked wide eyes and fur puffed up in startled fright. It looks like it got into a fight with an electrical socket and lost.
Rean can’t help it. He snorts.
“Wha— Instructor!” Juna leaps to her feet, hands balled into fists. “What’s— Why is— How come—“ She sputters uselessly for a few more seconds, before finally blurting out, “Did you bring it in here?!”
Rean smiles awkwardly. Scratches at his cheek. “Haha… Maybe?”
Juna lets out an indescribable noise. Still standing atop the table, the kitten’s ears swivel, and it turns to look. Meows at her.
“Oh my, Juna,” comments Musse, sounding utterly delighted, “I hadn’t realised you’d mastered the art of animal communication.”
Juna, face now flaming red, sits back down on the couch with a fwomp.
Rean bites back a smile. He reaches forward, intending to pick the kitten up again, but it scampers away. Clearly, it’s not ready to give up on its little adventure just yet. It twists around, claws clacking against the wooden surface—when its ears prick, and its tail goes still. And then its leaping again, right onto the pile of magazines scattered by the edge of the table.
Rean jerks forward, momentarily alarmed—the claws of even kittens aren’t just for show—but then his eyes register the covers. Erebonia’s No.1 Racing Magazine! they read. Place your bets!
Rean pauses. Dismisses the memory that flits across his mind with the mere sight of them. Sits back. Well… Maybe the world will be a little better off, this way.
Instructor Randolph probably forgot them out here. Rean makes a mental note to bring it up to him later, as he watches the kitten tussle with the magazines, ripping little shreds in each page. It’s oddly cute, in an incredibly destructive way.
A giggle from Musse breaks him out of his reverie. “Oh, how I wish you’d look at me like that too, Instructor,” she coos, placing a hand on her cheek. Sitting across from her, Juna groans loudly.
Rean blinks, and touches his lips. Feels the affectionate smile he hadn’t even realised had spread across his face. Laughs nervously. “Uh… That’s…”
Thankfully, Juna takes the opportunity to jump in. “Seriously, do you have to keep acting like that? What do you even see in him?”
“Oh?” Musse grins teasingly. “Worried that I’m going to steal your instructor? I suppose I’d be jealous too, if I were in your shoes. Ah, if only I were blessed enough to have Instructor Rean as my homeroom teacher…”
“Geh— That’s the total opposite of what I just said!”
As they argue in the background, Rean’s attention shifts back to the kitten. With the magazines sufficiently torn apart, the kitten lets out a yawn, mouth stretching wide to show off small, sharp fangs. It pads back to Rean, slow, and rubs its head against his hand.
Rean can’t help but smile, again. He pets it gently, barely registering the girls quieting as they turn to watch.
The kitten purrs. It flops down onto its side, laying soft against Rean’s palm. Juna lets out a muffled d’awww, hands clapped tight over her mouth.
“It really likes you, Instructor,” Musse remarks, eyes going gentle in a way Rean almost never sees on her. She leans forward, and reaches out a hand, the movement deliberately slow. The kitten obligingly sniffs at her fingers. “Will you keep it?
Rean looks down at the kitten. Thinks about it for a moment. It’s a pretty little thing; pink button nose, silky gray fur that’s slowly outgrowing its baby fuzz, and when it looks back up at him with its wide, round eyes, Rean’s met with a shade of red that he’s never quite managed to forget.
His mouth is moving before he can stop himself. “Yeah. I think I will.”
“Right… There’s a good kitty. Good boy. Good bo— No!”
As the kitten once again darts away, springing off the desk to land right in the middle of Rean’s unmade bed, Rean sighs, and lets the brush clatter from his hands. Truly, he hadn’t realised how good he’d had it with Badeaux until he unwittingly took in this small, evil creature masquerading as a cute, innocent cat.
Still, Rean can’t quite bring himself to regret his impulse decision. As the kitten stalks around the room, fur puffed up in visible offense, he reflects.
The kitten accompanies him everywhere now. To campus, to his classes, to the office, and back to the dormitory, where it sleeps by the side of his pillow. Rean had been slightly worried about Principal Le Guin’s reaction, but true to form, she’d just waved a hand and accepted it without so much as a word.
Major Michael, on the other hand… Well, that’s irrelevant.
The students, naturally, are delighted whenever the kitten follows Rean into class, jumping and curling up atop his desk. Louise in particular has started bringing bags of treats to Rean’s history lectures, slipping it bits and pieces throughout whenever she thinks Rean isn’t looking.
“Have you given him a name yet, Instructor?” she’d asked once, after class. It had been right before lunch break, and the other students had long since streamed to the cafeteria, leaving just her, Rean, and the kitten alone in the room. Rean had still been cleaning up. The kitten was licking its paws.
“A name?” Rean’d blinked back down at her, and set the stack of papers down on the desk. Louise stared up at him, unfazed.
“A name,” she repeated. “I mean, you’ve adopted him now, haven’t you?” Her fingers trailed lightly over the kitten’s furry back; it rolled over, showing its belly. Louise didn’t fall for it, her hand retreating.
“I suppose,” Rean replied, after a moment. “I… guess I haven’t. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, you haven’t?” The dismay in Louise’s voice was so audible, it made Rean wince. “But that’s so sad!”
“I-Is it..?” Rean licked his lips, and swallowed. The sunlight from the window reflected in Louise’s disappointed gaze.
“Isn’t it?” She frowned. “Not having a name?”
A name. Rean’d pursed his lips. Looked down at the kitten. It looked back up at him with those red, red eyes, and at the sight of them, there was only one name, thing, person that came to Rean’s mind—
—Thump!
With the loud crash from the other side of his room, Rean’s jolted out of his thoughts. He twists around, heart in his throat—and is promptly met with the sight of the kitten fallen head first into his half-opened drawer and flailing helplessly among the clothes.
Rean nearly chokes on a laugh, and stands. Moves forward and scoops the kitten right up, into his arms.
It meows at him, sounding particularly harried. Rean rolls his eyes, and boops it on the nose.
“This is your own fault, you know,” he tells it, as he moves back to the desk. “Who told you to be such a little troublemaker? And here I was fooled into thinking you were so sweet.”
The kitten squirms out of his arms the moment Rean sits back in his chair, climbing atop his desk with a shake of its fur. It noses at his pens, and investigates his flipped open books. Finds interest in a collection of newspapers, but loses it just as quickly. It’s probably not similar enough to the magazines it loves ripping up—much to Instructor Randolph’s dismay.
Rean pulls out his ARCUS and snaps a quick picture the kitten exploring his desk, before opening his messages to send it to Fie, who’s been consistently spamming him with daily cat pics plz’s. Just as he puts his ARCUS down, the kitten jumps onto his shelf, landing right next to his family photo.
It sniffs curiously at Elise’s face. Rean huffs in amusement, and lets his eyes trail over the other photographs on the shelf once he’s mostly certain the kitten isn’t planning on knocking the frame over with a push. A candid shot of him in the hangar with Patrick, the group photo with his classmates alongside Towa, Angelica, George and…
His gaze lands on the silver coin sitting innocuously in front of it. His chest tightens. Squeezes.
Rean takes a breath. It’s not usually this bad. But he’s been feeling off-kilter lately, like the world’s shifted a little too the left in the time he’d spent standing still. And when he looks at the coin, all he can think of is red; in his eyes, on his chest, dripping onto the ground. Cold in his arms—and sometime freezes in Rean too, brittle.
He clenches his fist. Tries to look away, and fails. Something about the glint of it, the silver spark, and Rean keeps staring, until—
There’s a paw in his vision. Rean blinks. And then the coin is moving, skittering somewhere and gone—and in an instant, something inside of Rean snaps, sudden and violent.
“Don’t touch that!” His voice comes out shrill, furious. Before he can even process what he’s doing, Rean’s lunging forward, and snatching the coin away. His palm slams on the surface, nails scratching against wood. The class photograph wobbles and topples back with the force of it.
The kitten lets out a startled, squeaking yelp. At the sound of its fright, high and pitiful, the frenzied haze in Rean’s mind clears, replaced in an instant by a cold, numbing emptiness.
He turns his head, the movement slow and jerky. The kitten has escaped to the other end of the shelf; its back is curved in a defensive arc, fur standing on end, tail puffed up and tucked between its legs.
Its eyes are wide—pupils dilated to the point that that damn red is almost blacked out entirely.
Guilt crashes over Rean in a drowning wave. “I’m— I’m sorry,” he says, voice shaking so badly the words barely come out coherent. He reaches out a trembling hand, vision going a little blurry around the edges, and the kitten skitters back with a wary hiss. Its tail lashes in the air.
Rean can feel his heart shatter. He swallows around the lump forming in his throat. Retracts his hand.
He feels very dizzy, abruptly. Rean squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to remember how to breathe. Is he actually getting this worked up about something so— No, he shouldn’t think that. An innocent little animal, not even fully grown, and he’d just— all for the crime of curiosity? For the crime of Rean’s own inability to leave the past in the past? Rean swallows hard, and clutches at his arms. Of course he’s ruined this too. He ruins every— No. Stop thinking that.
His nails dig into his skin. Claws lines stark into it. Rean’s supposed to be better now. Stronger now. Most of the time, he doesn’t even think about— Well, he doesn’t think. Relentlessly forward. No looking back. That’s how it’s supposed to go, that’s what everyone else has been doing—so why can’t he? Why can’t he stop seeing the vestiges of all his mistakes— No, don’t think—
Something warm nudges at him.
Rean takes a ragged, gasping breath. Opens his eyes, and forces his swimming vision into focus. The kitten has crept back to him, body pressed flat to the ground. Even still, it pushes a paw against his arm. Meows softly.
Rean swallows hard. His throat stings. “Hey, buddy,” he rasps out, finally, when he regains the ability to speak.
The kitten butts his head against his hand. Rubs against it, soft.
Rean can’t tell if this is making things better or worse. If this simple, trusting forgiveness is just thickening the miasma of guilt swirling in his gut, sitting heavy as a rock in his stomach. Still, the kitten insistently noses at him, tiny pink tongue darting out to lick at his skin.
It manages to get a weak chuckle out of Rean, if nothing else. “Are you trying to cheer me up?”
The kitten meows, as if in agreement. Blinks slow up at him.
Rean falls like kismet. It’s always those eyes. He can’t ever deny them anything.
The coin is still in his hand, the edges of it it digging into his flesh cold. Rean takes a deep, shuddering breath. Exhales. Unfurls his fist, slow, finger by finger. Until his palm is exposed, and the coin gleams in the dim room light.
Something dark and murky rises in his chest. Threatens to choke him. Rean pushes it down with a vehemence he hadn’t realised he still possessed; looks down at the tiny being sitting in front of him, and reaches out his hand like an offering.
In response, the kitten leans forward, looking ready to bolt at anytime. It cautiously sniffs the edges. And when Rean keeps obediently still, stubbornly quiet—it paws at the coin, fascinated.
Rean laughs shakily. He feel lightheaded. Unreal. Like he’s watching himself from third person.
“Should’ve known you’d be interested in this,” he says. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth; his throat drier than the desert air. “Sometimes, you really do… remind me of…”
Rean closes his eyes. The name floats to the forefront of his mind again. Maybe it’s the way the world has gone a little muted around him; maybe it’s the way those eyes watch him, so attentive and real and alive . Somehow, he can’t hold himself back this time—lets it slip past his lips like an oath.
“Crow,” he says. Rasps.
The kitten meows. It feels like an acknowledgement and a damnation all at once.
Exams, Rean very quickly learns, are an arguably even lower level of Gehenna for teachers than students.
It feels like he's getting pulled into meetings every other hour, setting potential questions, rewriting them, double checking them with the instructors from the main campus, rewriting them again. If he's not occupied with that, then it's concerned students pulling him aside, bombarding him with so many questions it threatens to make him dizzy.
Still, it feels… nice. Being relied on like this. Like he can be trusted to help.
Nonetheless, that doesn't stop the increased workload from doing the opposite of wonders for his free time. Were he the Rean of mere months ago, he'd likely be staying at the office till late into the night, completely forgetting to eat all the while. In fact, the Rean of the present will still gladly do the same if the chance is ever presented to him.
It won't be, though. Not if a certain, bossy little devil keeps getting its way.
The sun is setting when Rean is hit with the first whack of a furry paw. In the golden glow of the light, the kitten's eyes look like flickering flames as it insistently yowls for his attention, scratching at the sleeves of his coat.
"I know, I know," Rean says, exasperated, shifting his arm away. Towa, seated just beside him, hides a smile. "Just let me finish this one question, alright?"
The kitten smacks him again.
"You can't be that hungry. I saw how many treats Louise snuck you!"
An earsplitting screech is the only reply he receives.
Towa giggles. "Just give up, Rean. It's getting late anyway. You should already be heading back."
Rean scowls at her. Towa beams back, angelic.
"In that case"–Rean's battered with another forceful paw, and he uses a single hand to absently pluck the kitten from his desk–"you should be going back too."
Towa's eyes go wide. "Oh, but I haven't finished–"
"Neither have I," Rean points out. The kitten flails defiantly in his grip. Cries out again, loud. "Besides… you haven't eaten since breakfast, have you?"
Towa's cheeks colour a bright red. "Wh– How did you– I mean–"
"Just a guess," Rean flashes an innocent grin, and is met with an immediate pout. "And if this little monster is already this hungry… you must be starving."
With that, he holds the kitten out, right in front of her face. It meows, and smushes a paw against her nose.
Towa, predictably, melts. "Oh– Alright, fine, you win!" She stands, chair sliding back with a clatter, and determinedly begins gathering her work materials together, turning to shove them into her bag.
"If you don't bring any work home," says Rean, measured, "I won't either."
Towa freezes. Glares at him. Slowly, she takes the papers back out of her bag, and pulls open her desk drawer.
Rean just smiles wider.
They grab a meal at Barney's before heading back to the dorms. By the time they're done, the moon is rising slowly in the sky, illuminating the roads dim as they walk. The kitten stalks doggedly after their heels, sated by the leftover fish scraps Barney had fed it.
Towa's eyes are soft. "It really is amazing how he follows you everywhere. Most cats just like to stay put in one place. I guess he's just that attached, huh?"
Rean chuckles wryly. "Is that so? I wouldn't know. I've helped my father take care of his falcons and hunting dogs before, but never cats."
"Aww, don't forget about poor Celine, now."
"'Poor Celine' my foot. She'd maul you faster than you could even try to finish that sentence."
Towa laughs, open-mouthed and delighted, as Rean pushes the dormitory door open. At this point, he doesn't even blink when the kitten dashes past him, only lengthens his stride to hurry after it as it races toward the common area. He turns the corner to see, as expected, it pouncing on the magazines Randy’s left outside again, gleefully tearing at it. Unlike its claws that have only become more vicious with its steady maturity, its fascination with the pages upon pages of horse racing results clearly hasn’t abated any.
Maybe it’s exhaustion sunk deep into his bones from all the overtime he’s been putting in lately. Maybe it’s the sense of security and unadulterated nostalgia he’s been lulled into with his dinner with Towa. Maybe it’s just those damn magazines. Whatever it is, it has the words slipping out of his mouth, exasperated yet endeared, before his brain can even register them. “Ah, Crow! Stop that!”
Towa's breath hitches.
The moment he realises—Rean’s brain shuts down. His face burns, an all-consuming, painful heat. He squeezes his eyes shut, and everything goes quiet, murky around him. Stupid. Stupid. What was he thinking? Letting his mind name a cat after their dead friend, because Rean’s too incapable of letting go. Because that’s what normal, well-adjusted people who aren’t reminded of their every failure in each speck of dust in the air do, clearly.
Oh. Right. He’s drowning again. Rean bites down hard on his inner cheek, until he tastes iron. Tries to pull himself out of the wretched ocean of self-disgust he’s always, always falling back into—just in time to hear Towa take a step forward. Feel her presence by his side. Listen to her voice, soft, as she lets out a ghost of a rueful chuckle.
“Haha. And here I thought I was the only one who felt his eyes looked a little familiar.” Her hand, small and warm, touches his arm. And Rean takes a deep breath. Opens his eyes, and lets his vision swirl back into focus.
Towa’s watching him with a too empathetic gaze. Really, he shouldnt have expected anything less from her.
Rean forces a wry smile. His hands are still trembling, just slightly. “Along with his penchant for mischief.”
He steps forward, and crouches down to scratch the kitten under the chin with a sigh that may be too overexaggerated to be believable. It stills for a moment, purring at the touch, before it promptly returns to its steady destruction. If Randy tries to complain about Rean’s ‘demon cat’ again, Rean decides, he’ll just have to remind the other not to leave his magazines out in the first place, where any unsuspecting student or animal can find them.
Towa stands, unmoving, right behind him. After a beat, she opens her mouth, speech hesitant. “So… Crow, huh?”
“That… I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” Rean flushes. Stares stubbornly down at the kitten, avoiding her gaze.
Towa giggles. “No… It’s okay. I think it fits.” She casts an amused glance at the kitten, doing its best to shred every image of a horse to pieces. “Though, I think he’d sooner rip himself apart than even try to do the same to those magazines.”
Rean huffs out a laugh. “Well, cats can’t exactly read.”
“Celine would beg to differ. Maybe we could ask her to translate?”
Rean and Towa look at each other. And then, in unison, they snort at the mere thought of it.
Their shared amusement is what prompts any remaining tension in Rean’s body to finally drain away. They continue to watch the kitten in a comfortable silence, Rean shifting to a kneel and Towa bending down to catch a better glimpse.
Until slowly, tentatively, Towa reaches out, and places a gentle hand on Rean’s shoulder. Says, in a helpless whisper, “I miss him too.”
It feels like there’s something stuck in Rean’s throat, abruptly. He swallows. When he next speaks, his voice is raspy. “Yeah. I know.”
Apparently now finished with its systematic demolition of everything Randy’s ever loved in Erebonia, the kitten pads back to them, tail swaying contentedly in the air. Rean reaches out to pet its quickly growing body, a small smile stretching over his lips—fond and melancholy. “Hey, Crow.”
At his tone—perhaps a little too transparent—Towa’s eyebrows lower at the ends. “Rean…”
The kitten is soft against his palm. Warm. Alive. “Don’t worry so much, Towa,” Rean says. He moves his hand to the kitten’s head, brushes the fur out of those eyes he hates to love. “I’m alright. Really.”
He’s not, Rean’s forced to admit to himself, as Siegfried calls for the Divine Knight that shouldn’t, couldn’t belong to him— come, Ordine.
Time passes in a blur. The summer festival is the most fun he’s had in a while—the same can’t be said for the party held the night of. Everything goes wrong. They make their way to the end of the world, down the spiral steps, and Siegfried is there, and Osborne is there, and then—
And then—
Rean wakes up a month later.
Everything happens at once. Crow’s alive, until he isn’t, until he is, until he won’t be. The twilight hangs perpetual over them like the sword of Damocles, their allies are scattered all over the country, and Rean’s mind is just so occupied by it all that he doesn’t even think about the kitten until it’s finally time to take back Leeves.
It hits him as they trudge down the path, through the monster infested wilderness. That he’s been gone for more than a month. That he has no idea who’s taking care of the kitten. If it’s even being taken care of. If it’s even alive. That he hadn’t thought to question any of this for days after regaining his sanity.
Rean’s a failure of a pet owner. The realisation takes a hold of his hand, refuses to loosen its grip even as he draws his sword to fight the dromes insistent on attacking them. Perhaps that’s why his strikes falter in strengthen, don’t cleave through the ooze as cleanly as they should.
It’s shameful, honestly. As a swordsman, and especially as a student of the Eight Leaves. No matter how many times Rean tries to clear his mind, his attacks still never quite manage to fall true, and it’s clear that even his students are noticing.
Thankfully, most of them don’t say a word. Ash merely clicks his tongue, stomping ahead with a disgruntled frown and his hands in his pockets. The rest quickly follow, casting quick, worried glances back at him—until it’s only Altina left, still standing by Rean’s side.
Rean swallows. His mouth is dry. When he turns his head down to look at Altina, he finds her already watching him with a frown.
“Instructor,” she says, quiet and hesitant. “Are you..?”
Something heavy sits in Rean’s gut. He forces a smile. “Don’t worry, Altina. I have it handled.”
Altina looks exceedingly doubtful. Nonetheless, she doesn’t press the issue any further; they continue onward, and walk right into a battle that Ash has deliberately initiated, if the yelling from Juna is any indication.
Reaching Leeves’ gates—and by extension, Randy—is a relatively quick affair. While Rean receives a quick brief from Randy on what the latter’s observed, what they may need to expect, the students race ahead, chomping at the bit for their homecoming. Watching them sparks a fondness in Rean’s chest, warm and bubbling, but it doesn’t quite manage to erase the anxiety that’s tying his insides into tangled knots, strangling him tight.
Randy casts him a long side glance as they stand back, simply observing. Says, after an extended, pensive moment, “Worried about your demon cat?”
Rean’s whole body twitches in surprise. “Wha— How did you—“
“Eh. Call it a hunch.” Randy shrugs, and folds his arms behind his head. “Don’t fret too much. Shirley’s probably been taking pretty decent care of it; she likes cats. ‘Fact, did I ever tell you about that time she helped my partner find a lost kitten?”
Rean blinks. Furrows his brow. “She… what?”
“I know, right,” says Randy, sounding pained beyond belief. “I’ll tell you later. Don’t think we have the time now.”
They look ahead to the gates. Juna is waving at them, arm swinging wild in the air. “C’mon! What’s taking you guys?”
If nothing else, it gets a smile out of Rean, genuine.
The students barge into the dorms first. Next goes Randy, leaving Rean as the last to enter. He barely gets the chance to look around, scan the layout of the building that’s become a home somewhere along the way, before a gray blur launches itself at him, flying right into his chest.
It’s pure instinct that has Rean catching it in his arms. Claws dig into his clothes. A furry head butts into his chin, warm. A purr rumbles louder, vibrates harder than an orbal car engine against him. And when Rean looks down, he sees that shade of red he’d once thought he’d never get to look at again—that have now become a daily, reoccuring sight alongside a casual “Mornin’, Rean.”
Relief crashes into him like a sledgehammer. Makes him forget about everything and everyone else as he clutches the kitten close. “Oh, Crow. You’re alright…”
Juna sputters. The sound of it breaks through Rean’s reverie, makes him go bright red with embarrassment—but then the kitten is meowing soft and snuggling warm into him, and the emotion is overtaken in an instant by pure adoration.
In the background, Ash fake retches. “Aidios, man. Is this what that shit from earlier was all about? I fucking hate you, Schwarzer.”
Musse coos. “Aww, but isn’t it so sweet how much he cares about his little kitty cat?” Her eyes gleam an unholy light. “And I hadn’t realised you’d given him an actual name, Instructor. Crow, hmm? My, how darling.”
Her words spur another incomprehensible sound from Juna. More gagging from Ash. Rean looks up from the kitten, into a sea of knowing stares—and promptly has to suppress the urge to crawl straight into a ditch and die.
“I— That’s…” Rean cuts off with a cough, looking up at the ceiling to avoid their gazes. The kitten, blissfully unaware, bats at his chin with a paw. “Now isn’t the time to fool around, everyone. Let’s hurry up and check the area.”
Tita notwithstanding, Kurt’s the only one who obeys. The rest just watch him with expressions ranging from disgust to utter delight. Rean doesn’t play favourites, but hypothetically, if he did… Well, Kurt would be somewhere up there.
Hypothetically.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take all too long to look around the town. As usual, the kitten sticks close to Rean, eliciting smiles from every familiar face they run into. Soon, it’s time to head to the campus, and Rean makes a quick pit stop at the mayor’s house to drop the kitten off with Franky.
The kitten meows when Rean tries to leave. Stands up, and pads forward.
Rean mentally prepares himself for a battle. “No,” he tells it, voice stern. The kitten stops in its tracks, blinking wide eyes up at him. “It’s not safe. Stay here. I’ll be back later, okay?”
The kitten stares at him for a long, long moment. Doesn’t move a muscle. Rean’s body tenses, already gearing up to lunge if it tries to dart past him. He holds his breath.
Another beat passes.
And then the kitten sits down, and begins licking its paw.
All the fight drains away from Rean in an instant, breath gusting out of him. “Now you listen,” he says, exasperated. “Have you just been ignoring me on purpose all along?”
The kitten’s tail flicks. It doesn’t even look at him.
“Oh dear,” Musse comments, hiding a smile behind her hand. “What a rebellious little thing. Now, where have I seen that same trait before..? Hmm, I do seem to recall something about crosses as well…”
Rean pretends he doesn’t hear her.
They return to the Merkabah victorious. Once all the important things are taken care of, and the rest of the crew begin dispersing for a chance to relax at the day’s end, it’s only natural that the attention turns to the newest addition to the ship’s crew—the kitten nestled snugly in Rean’s arms.
“Aww, I’ve missed this cutie,” Alisa’s the first to comment. She smiles, reaching forward to pet it. It stretches into her touch. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave him in Leeves, though? It’s not exactly the safest here…”
Rean laughs ruefully. “I tried, but he decided to throw a fit again. Guess staying put for an afternoon was already his limit.”
“Getting walked all over by even a cat,” says Jusis, with an amused scoff. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”
Rean opens his mouth to respond, when Musse cuts in. At her gleeful grin, a bad feeling washes over Rean—which is quickly proven to be justified.
“Oh, there’s no need to put it that way. Our dear instructor Rean is simply too attached to his precious little Crow.” Musse sounds like she’s having the time of her life as she glances at him, eyelids lowered. “Isn’t that right, instructor?”
Predictably, her words are met with confusion. Rean desperately tries to salvage the situation before it descends into total, abject humiliation for himself. “Musse—“
Musse ignores him. “Hmm? He didn’t tell you? Well, I suppose I did only just find out myself. But this little sweetheart’s name is Crow. Doesn’t it fit him so well?”
As one, everyone looks at the kitten. At the colour of its fur. To its eyes. Then to Crow’s. Then to the kitten’s again.
The expressions of dawning realisation on their faces make Rean want to sink into a hole and never come out. And, as always, like a lamb to the slaughter, Rean’s gaze wrenches over to Crow, unable to stop himself even through the feeling of a noose hung loose around his neck.
Crow’s face is completely blank as he stares at the kitten. Uncomprehending.
There’s a stabbing prick in Rean’s chest. He looks away, cheeks burning.
“A-Anyway!” he blurts out, clutching the kitten even closer to him. It lets out a small mew. “I’ll make sure to take good care of him, so there’s no need to worry. Just… carry on. Doing what you all usually do. Right. I’m… leaving now.”
It’s probably the least elegant exit he’s made in his life, by far. He races away, manages to find one of the storerooms thankfully empty—a rarity in this overcrowded ship. He leans against the wall. Lets his head fall back. Takes a breath. He can still feel Crow’s eyes digging into his back even now, even when there’s no one else around; just him, and the past made present cuddling into him with a purr.
Musse apologises to him later. “Instructor,” she says, hands clasped behind her back. By now, Rean’s known her long enough to recognise her way of hiding her fidgeting fingers, her perfectly manicured nails digging into her own skin. “I… realise that I might have overstepped my boundaries, with, um, the—“
“It’s fine, Musse,” Rean interrupts her before she has the chance to finish. Lifts a hand up and strokes her head. Smiles, wry, as a rare, embarrassed flush blooms over her cheeks, and she ducks her head to hide it. “I know you were just trying to look out for me, in your own way.”
“That’s a very generous assumption you’re making there, instructor,” Musse mutters. “What if I just wanted to see your reaction because I thought it’d be funny? You shouldn’t trust in people’s good intentions so easily, you know.”
“Perhaps you should try telling me that when you aren’t in the middle of apologising for possibly hurting my feelings,” Rean says. Musse’s ducked head does her no wonder as the tips of her ears glow red. “Really, don’t worry about it. I think it turned out for the better, anyway.”
He’s not even lying. Because, as it turns out, everyone loves Crow. The kitten, that is.
While Rean’s students are naturally attached to the little thing, familiar as they are with it, his old classmates are, somehow, even more adoring. They’ve always been fond of the pictures and small anecdotes he’d send over Round of Seven, and there’s something particularly healing about playing with a cute animal after a stressful day, but ever since the discovery of its—not official, and Rean still stands by this—name, there’s nothing they’ve delighted in more than teasing Crow (the human, specifically) over it.
Especially Fie.
“You should really consider neutering Crow, you know,” she tells Rean once. At that, he blinks. Glances up from where he’s idly dragging a cat toy around the kitten’s paws. Just behind them, there comes a loud thud and subsequent groan from the bar counter; they both ignore it.
“Where’s this coming from?” Rean asks. The kitten, blissfully oblivious to their topic of conversation, pounces on the fake mouse with a hiss.
Fie shrugs. “Just saying. He goes outside a lot, right? What if he runs into some poor queen in heat and can’t control himself? You don’t want Crow to become some awful, absentee father, do you?” She holds her hand up, and makes a scissoring motion. “Best way to do that is with a little snip snip, if you know what I mean.”
Sitting on the bar stool mere reges away with his head on the counter, Crow (the human) says, muffled, “I know you’re doing this on purpose. Stop.”
Still, despite the rampant amount of cat-related jokes now aimed toward him, Crow takes it all mostly in stride. Ends up being a rather big fan of the inadvertant cause of it all, in fact. More than once has Rean walked in on him sitting on the floor, a dumb grin on his face as the kitten fruitlessly tries to catch whatever new toy he’s bought yet again.
This time, it’s a pretty simple one; an elegant feather wand shaped like a little blue bird. In fact, if Rean squints, it even looks vaguely familiar—which is when the memory of the stupid little cat toy Crow’d brought out in Roer hits him with the speed of the Eisengraf.
Rean stops breathing, just for a moment. Goes numb and motionless as it all comes sweeping back—Crow, in his bandana and his green-then-red school uniform. Feeding the strays even when Vice-Principal Heinrich had given them all a tongue-lashing for encouraging the proliferation of wildlife on our hallowed school grounds, or something akin to that. Always with a treat or toy on hand, and a smile for whatever animal approached him; a small, fond one, that Rean almost never got to see, that never failed to make his heart skip a tiny beat despite himself.
Rean hadn’t been able to recognise why until it was too late. Was only able to recognise the rare moments of actual sincerity that shone through Crow’s performance after he’d declared everything to be a lie. After the Pantagruel. After he lay cold in Rean’s arms.
Rean swallows. Prays the tremble in his body isn’t noticeable as he announces his presence with a loud, heavy step forward.
Twin pairs of red eyes turn to look at him.
“Hey, Crow,” Rean says. His voice sounds miraculously normal. “Playing around again?”
Crow rolls his eyes. “Geez, you make it seem like I do nothing around here.” He punctuates the words with a wave of the toy; the kitten spits, and leaps into the air to no avail. “I’ll have you know I washed the dishes today, thank you very much.”
“Truly, a back-breaking task,” Rean deadpans. He walks forward, crouching down to pet the kitten as it takes a momentary break from playing to pad toward him for a tiny greeting; it noses at his hand, lets out a rumbling meow.
“You kid, but do you even realise how many damn people are packed onto this ship?” Crow says, letting the toy in his hand clatter to the floor. He folds his arms behind his head. “‘Sides, I don’t wanna hear that from the guy who can’t even do his own laundry.”
“Wha— When did you—?” A bright red overtakes Rean’s features. Crow snorts, and Rean furiously shakes his head, pulls himself back together. “I-I mean, that’s not true! I do my own laundry! I’m just… busy.”
“Aren’t we all.” Crow lets out an overblown sigh. The kitten walks back and bats at his crossed legs, pointedly nudging the toy toward him. At that, he glances down at it, and laughs. “Aww, jealous I’m not paying attention to you? Blame your owner for that, buddy.”
The expression on his face is a fond, sincere little thing; lips curved slight at the edges, eyes soft. Rean’s hands curl into fists, nails digging into his palm. Stop looking at his mouth. “How is it my fault?”
“You’re the one who started talking to me first,” Crow says. Looks up and smirks.
Asshole. Rean scowls, and ignores the thudding of his heart, his failure at not staring, damnit. “You’re intolerable.”
“And yet, you tolerate me.”
Rean doesn’t have a good comeback for that beyond a quiet, embarrassed grumble. Crow grins. The kitten bats at his leg again, and meows, shrill.
Their conversation dies into a comfortable silence. Rean sits just beside Crow, as the other picks the toy up again, laughs quietly as the kitten pricks up, tail stiffening. Rean can’t help but watch him as he wriggles the bird in the air, let his eyes trail over every minute change in Crow’s expression, every little movement he makes. Even when Crow begins sneaking split-second glances over at him, barely even noticeable, and Rean knows he knows, and for the love of the Goddess, Rean needs to stop—
He swallows hard. Wrenches his gaze away; lasts barely a beat, before he’s looking back again, a moth drawn to a flame.
It’s an impossible task, Rean finally admits to himself. How is he not suppose to look, when Crow is here? Alive? Real, even when it still feels like a hallucination sometimes. When it reminds Rean a little too much of the worst kinds of dreams he used to have. The ones he never wanted to wake up from.
Something swells up from the bottom of Rean’s gut at the reminder of them, dark and disquieting. Helplessly, thoughtlessly, he reaches a hand forward to touch Crow, to feel his skin and not just air—when the realisation of just what he’s doing hits him halfway.
His hand falters. Nearly withdraws, before Rean thinks about how much weirder that’d be, and changes directions to pet the kitten instead. It’s soft. Warm. Rean keeps petting it, and tries not to think about banging his head against the floor until he goes unconscious.
Crow glances at him again, eyes staying longer this time. Seems to hesitate for a moment, before finally looking away, and Rean can breathe again. His voice is deliberately casual as he opens his mouth to speak, gaze firmly avoiding Rean’s own, “Like owner, like cat, huh? Jealous that ol’ Crow’s stealing all of your li’l kitty’s attention?”
It’s an obvious deflection. Still, Rean grasps the out like a lifeline. “As if.”
The rest of their conversation is normal. Overly so. Even so, Rean trembles when he gets up to leave, when Crow tosses him an idle farewell. Has to remember not to choke on his own spit; needs to lean against the wall once he’s out of the room to catch his breath.
The thing is that Rean’s obvious. He knows he’s obvious. It’s been a foregone conclusion ever since Musse so ceremoniously revealed the kitten’s (not) name. Yet, Crow doesn’t bring it up. Doesn’t even acknowledge it exists to Rean’s face.
Rean’s not sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed about it, if he’s being honest. Maybe both. Probably both. Either way, it has him tangled into knots, heartbeat shifting into overdrive whenever Crow pauses a little too long—sends him those brief, unreadable glances whenever he thinks Rean isn’t looking.
The worst comes during a time Rean’s playing with the kitten. It’s not a rare occurrence by any means; no matter how much the others spoil it, the kitten always gravitates towards Rean in the end—jumps and curls up atop his chest whenever it’s time to sleep. Waits patiently for his return, and does its best to jump right into his chest whenever Rean gets out of Valimar.
Rean doesn’t intend to call it Crow. It’s just that everyone’s calling it Crow now, and those red eyes are more familiar than ever, and maybe bad habits just die hard. Rean slips up once, then twice, and by the fifth time, he’s accepted his fate.
“Gah! Crow!” It’s around the third time the kitten bowls into his chest rather than the toy that Rean accepts this too—that the kitten is far more interested in Rean himself than any stupid toy he’s trying to distract it with. It’s a turnaround from last time; back then, Rean couldn’t it to stop messing with his belongings even if he tried. Now, he can’t get it to take an interest in them when he wants it to.
“Musse was right,” he mutters, as he grabs and plucks the kitten right off of his coat. “You really are a rebellious little brat.”
The kitten meows. It sounds vaguely prideful.
“That’s not a good thing,” Rean chides. He places it onto the floor; it promptly tries to scale his clothes again. “Crow. No. You’re going to rip it, and then what am I going to tell Emma? Bad kitty.”
Predictably, the kitten ignores him. It clambers up onto his knee, purrs, and proceeds to make biscuits on his thigh.
Rean softens. He can’t not.
He pets the kitten gentle. Buries his hand in its thickening fur. It’s grown up so much since Rean’d first met it, snuggled tiny and weak against its mother’s belly. A pang of nostalgia hits him, followed soon by a yawning melancholy.
“You’re going to be lonely after I’m gone, huh?” Rean says. As the end of the rivalries draw ever nearer, his impending fate steadily becoming all he can think about. His, and Millium’s, and… Crow’s. “It’s fine. I’m sure the others’ll take you in. They’ll give you the best care a cat can ever ask for.”
He hesitates. Looks into its eyes, innocent and oblivious to the calamity around them—so similar and yet not at all. Rean thumbs the fur under them. Says, soft and wistful. “You’ll be alright, Crow.”
Somewhere behind him, there’s a quiet thump. Rean tenses—it’s rare anyone gets past his senses, but the safe surroundings and cute distraction on his leg had lowered his guard—and twists his torso around.
Crow’s standing just outside the doorway. Crow the human. With those eyes Rean had just been thinking about, with the name Rean had just been calling so fondly, with that expression that would be nearly inscrutable if not for the slight crack that Rean can just barely read the shocked, almost fluster from—how long has he been standing there, anyway?!
Rean stares back. Opens his mouth, and says nothing, his mind blank. His heart races, thuds erratic; even still, it feels like no oxygen is making its way toward his brain. They stay like that for what feels like an eternity of silent eye-contact, before the kitten meows, and paws emphatically at Rean’s hips.
Rean glances down—and in an instant, there comes the sound of footsteps hurrying away. He looks back up just in time to catch the tail end of Crow’s coat disappearing swiftly out of sight.
His cheeks feel hot. The kitten bats at him again, meow turning into a yowl, and Rean desperately turns his attention back to it. Tries to forget everything that just happened.
He fails, of course.
“You really brought him here too, huh?”
At the sound of Crow’s voice, Rean startles. He glances up from the counter, where the kitten gently snoozes, and is promptly met by Crow’s wry smile as he stands just behind the adjacent bar stool, holding a glass of what looks to be whiskey.
“Crow.” Rean blinks. Crow makes a lazy salute.
“Yo,” he says. “Mind if I sit here?”
“I…” Rean licks his lips, tastes the wine still lingering. He grips his glass tighter, and tries to ignore the low buzz running through his veins. “Sure.”
“Cheers,” Crow raises his glass, and slides effortlessly onto the bar stool. Not that Rean’s paying attention to his every movement, or anything.
Drinking with Crow in a hotel in Mishelam isn’t exactly how Rean had pictured his final night going, but then again, it probably beats the alternative of drinking alone with only a cat for company. Still, as Crow takes a hearty swig of his glass, and Rean’s gaze is drawn, ever magnetically, to his bobbing throat—he has to wonder about that.
Either way, though.
“So,” Crow starts, casual as he sets his glass down. “Finally decided that your one true beau is your precious little kitty cat, huh?”
Rean huffs, self-deprecating. “Guess so. What about it?”
“Nothing.” Crow shrugs, movement deliberate. Rean’s eyes follow the slant of his shoulders. “Just making an observation.”
“Uh huh. Sure you are.”
“Hey now, where’s the distrust coming from? Since when has good ol’ Crow ever eld you astray?”
“Want me to make a list?” Rean snarks, before shaking his head with a sigh. He takes a sip from his glass, determinedly turns his gaze back to the kitten. “Honestly, Crow, if you want to say something, just say it. That’s what tonight’s for, isn’t it? No regrets?”
Something in Rean’s sentence makes Crow pause—not too long, but still long enough that Rean can’t help but glance over at him, puzzled. The moment he looks at him, though, Crow’s face relaxes into a easy grin, like nothing ever happened. “Right, right. No regrets to be found here, I assure you.”
“…Right,” Rean echoes, after a moment. Something about Crow is stiff, still. Rean licks his lips. “…So?”
“So… what?”
“So,” Rean repeats, “don’t you have something you want to say?”
“Hmm?” Crow cocks his head, in that way he always does whenever he’s playing dumb. “Do I?”
“…Nevermind. Forget it.” Rean looks away. His finger twitches on the bar table. “Is there any other reason you came here then? Other than ‘ making an observation ’ on how I’m choosing to spend my time?”
“Aww, can’t I just want spend some quality time with you?” Crow says, winking. “I mean, sure, you got your kitty and all, but it’s a real sad sight seeing someone drinking all alone.”
Right. Rean squints. There’s definitely something off about Crow. He’s laying it on far too thick for there not to be.
Still, words elude him. All Rean manages is a weak, “Whatever you say.”
Silence settles over them, thick. Crow takes another swig of his drink; Rean stares determinedly at the kitten, curled up and dozing blissfully oblivious, and tries not to squirm.
Why did Crow even come here in the first place? Rean had chosen this spot specifically because it was relatively out-of-sight, far away from the rest of the festivities; a space where he could just be alone with his thoughts, for a bit. Did Crow come knowing he was here? Had he seen Rean walking?
Had he been watching him?
“Hey,” says Crow, abruptly, shocking Rean out of his thoughts. Flustered, Rean casts a glance over at him—he’s staring ahead, not even looking at Rean. “Tell me about him.”
“Him?” Rean blinks. His brain is sluggish, unworking.
“Your cat, I mean. Who else?”
“Oh,” says Rean, dumbly. He swallows. “Why? What do you want to know?”
“Anything.” Crow shrugs. Lifts his glass again. “Everything. Just realised I don’t know a whole lot. Like, how you even got him in the first place, for one.”
“Oh,” says Rean, again. Right. Crow doesn’t know. Hadn’t been there when Rean had texted the group the kitten’s very first picture along with a short explanation, on account of him being… well. Rean takes another sip of wine, inelegantly. “It’s not very interesting, honestly. The kids found the litter and their mother in the academy field, and this one decided to follow me home. That’s all.”
“And you took it in, just like that, huh?”
“Just like that.”
Crow snorts. “Pushover.”
“Hey.” Rean flushes, and glares. “That’s not— I’m not— He was being very stubborn, alright?!”
“Of course he was.”
“And he was very cute.”
“Of course he was.”
“And he just looked so— Ugh, you’re not even listening, are you?”
“I’m listening to a total pushover, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Rean smacks him on the arm. Crow doesn’t even bother pretending it hurts; he just laughs. Rean glares.
“He’s an exception,” he insists. Reaches forward and picks the kitten up, to a surprised, groggy meow, and promptly shoves it into Crow’s face. “See? Look at him. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing!”
Crow’s laughter dies abruptly. He doesn’t respond. For one second, two, three. At some point, Rean stops counting; he pulls back the kitten just slightly, enough that he has a window to peer at Crow’s face.
Crow’s staring at the kitten, a little wide-eyed, a little rattled. It takes Rean a moment to realise he’s looking straight into the kitten’s eyes.
Rean swallows hard. Withdraws the kitten so quickly it lets out a squeak. “Sorry,” he murmurs, setting it back down on the table—gently, this time. He strokes a light hand over its back. Stares at his fur. Anywhere but Crow.
He feels Crow shift. Squeezes his eyes shut as Crow says, carefully, “Rean.”
“Shut up.”
“I didn’t even say anything.”
“That doesn’t matter. I know what you were thinking.”
“Do you?” The question is so unexpectedly genuine that Rean blinks his eyes open again. Turns his head to look.
Crow’s looking at him. He’s not smiling. Rean’s heart does a flip in his chest; he swallows again, looks back down.
“Tell me then,” he says.
Crow wavers.
Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the knowledge that it’s all going to end tomorrow whichever way he spins it; whatever it is, Rean doesn’t feel like continuing this game. “I told you,” he says. “If you want to say something, just say it. No—“
“—regrets,” Crow finishes. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He closes his eyes. Opens them again, with a wry smile. There’s a defeated sort of amusement woven into his tone as he speaks, “I just think it’s been really sinking in lately.”
Rean’s pretty sure he knows what, but still— “What’s been?”
“You know.” Crow shrugs, so deliberately nonchalant it loops right around. “How much you must have missed him when he wasn’t around. The kitten, I mean.”
He’s so obviously not talking about the kitten that Rean doesn’t even bother trying to convince himself he is. “Right,” Rean says anyway. His hand curls into a fist. “The kitten.”
“Yeah,” says Crow, and nothing more.
So he still wants to play, then. Rean bites his lip. Takes a breath. Unclenches his teeth, and throws out, last-ditch, “I did. So much. He’s— precious to me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to him.”
There’s a prolonged silence.
Eventually, Crow puts the glass down with a low thunk. Rean still refuses to look at him, heartbeat deafeningly loud in his ears as he hears Crow sigh. The rustle of his hair as he scratches the back of his head.
“That’s mean, Rean,” he says.
“I’m mean?” Rean can’t help but burst out, head jerking up to show a blazing gaze. Crow smiles bitterly as he looks back. “When you—!”
“You know I’m dying tomorrow,” Crow cuts in. Cold and matter-of-fact—and Rean burns.
“No, we don’t!” Rean snaps back, even as his heart sinks in his chest. His eyes feel hot; he blinks rapidly. “And you don’t know I’m not dying tomorrow too, so just— just—!”
He bites his words back. Takes a shuddering breath. Presses the bottom of his palms into his eyes. He can feel Crow’s gaze digging into him.
There’s a quiet rustle. An inquisitive meow. Then soft paws are pushing onto the back of his hands, and Rean uncovers his eyes. Blinks the ache away. Finds Crow holding the kitten up to him in a reversal of their earlier positions, smiling small and rueful.
“Don’t talk like that,” Crow says. He shifts his grip, maneuvers the kitten’s paw until it lands on Rean’s nose. Taps it. “Who’s going to look after poor little Crow then?”
Rean tries his best not to soften—but under those twin red gazes, he crumbles, as he always does. “He’ll survive,” Rean says, forces back a fond grin as the kitten begins struggling in Crow’s grasp. “There’s plenty of people who’d be glad to take him in.”
Crow snorts, putting the kitten down. It darts away, offended, and starts grooming itself like it’s been contaminated. “So, not at all like his namesake, then.”
Rean frowns. “Crow.”
“Kidding,” Crow says. He’s clearly deflecting, but Rean doesn’t know what else to do but let him. Stretches his hand out instead to smooth down the kitten’s ruffled fur, pursing his lips together and not letting another word slip; lest he starts losing control again.
If nothing else, his outburst has done wonders to sober him up, at least.
He can feel Crow still watching as he picks up his glass; hopes the quiver in his hand, the slight ripples it causes in the wine isn’t too noticeable. Rean takes a sip, and nearly spits it back out all over himself as Crow speaks again.
“Rean,” he says. Rean barely manages to not to choke. Puts down his glass with a too loud thump.
“What?” he gets out, nearly inhales on a cough. Blinks back the involuntary tears that arise from it, and glances over. Crow’s gaze is piercing; is this how he felt, whenever Rean couldn’t stop looking?
Nonetheless. Crow opens his mouth. Closes it. His throat bobs as he swallows. Discomfort briefly flashes over his face, before he takes a deep breath, exhales, and his expression goes unreadable yet again.
Seems to come to a decision, finally.
“Rean,” he says once again. Pauses.
“…Yes?” Rean resists the urge to squirm. Stays perfectly still, even as Crow parts his lips tentatively, hesitates.
“I…” he says, trails off. Squares his jaw. “Look. Just for the record, you have awful taste.”
Rean’s eye twitches. “Are you still going on about— Nn?!”
His mouth snaps shut with a loud clack, eyes going wide, as Crow reaches forward and places a gentle hand on his chin. Tilts it up, slight.
Crow’s not wearing gloves. That’s the first thing that registers in Rean’s mind. The second is the feel of his calluses, rough and worn, and yet soft still against his skin. The third is the way Crow leans in, just barely.
The fourth—red.
Rean’s heart is pounding in his throat. Thudding in his ears like thunder, and drowning the rest of his thoughts out. His mind spins. Atop the counter, his hands curl, nails scrabbling against wood like trying to latch on to solid ground; futilely and falling still.
“Rean,” says Crow, again. Leans in further—just a rege.
Rean opens his mouth. Closes it. All that escapes him is a panicked, flustered wheeze, high and cracking.
Crow’s thumb strokes at his jawline, as if to calm him down. It’s the opposite of helpful. Rean might be asphyxiating, in fact. Still, Crow doesn’t stop. All he does instead is speak, voice low and hushed, “Hey. No regrets, right?”
For a moment, Rean thinks he’s trembling. It’s only the natural assumption, given the racing of his heart, the incoherence of his thoughts. The way he feels so utterly out of control.
But as they both continue to sit, Rean half-paralysed, and Crow still grasping his chin, still too damn close—Rean notices something. A slow realisation begins to dawn on him; with it, he stiffens deliberately. Forces himself to not even twitch.
Crow’s the one who’s trembling. He’s sure of it now.
With that discovery, it’s suddenly, stupidly easy to see the rest of the cracks. Crow’s ear, mostly hidden behind his hair, is flushed a bright, flaming red. His body is stiff, like he’s ready to bolt. A corner of his mouth keeps twitching. And when Rean peers into his eyes, looks beyond memory and colour to see the minute shaking of his pupils; it only serves to confirm it.
Crow, right now, is an embarrasssed, nervous wreck.
All the tension gathered with Rean rushes out of him in one fell swoop. He nearly laughs at absurdity of it; the whole situation, suddenly. All this for something that, in the end, can be so simple. If they just let it.
Rean lets. Reaches up to grasp Crow’s wrist—pretends not to notice the way Crow half-recoils, the trembling in his arm growing even worse—and opens his mouth.
“Yeah,” he says. “No regrets.”
And Rean pulls Crow forward, in for a kiss.
It’s clumsy. Kind of bad, if Rean’s being honest. Rean’s too eager, and Crow’s too tense, and lips line up all wrong, teeth meeting in an almost painful clash. Crow flinches away like instinct, but Rean simply chases him down again, pushes those few reges forward until he feels Crow against him again, chapped.
Crow shudders. Finally, finally relaxes into it; tilts his head, presses in gentle. His hand moves to fully cup Rean’s cheek now, holding him like salvation—Rean’s lips part, and he breathes shaky. The warmth of the wine coursing through his body is all gone, replaced by a blazing heat, a needy longing.
Rean’s never even dreamt to dream of something like this, had thought it too impossible indulgent—as Crow’s tongue slips into his mouth, it’s only becoming clearer that it’s anything but. Crow’s touch, Crow’s lips; his movements, his breath, his soft noises. All a reality that Rean could never have even begun to imagine.
They separate, come together again. And again. And again, and maybe they would have continued gladly for the rest of the night, ensconced in the cycle of their own universe—when they’re interrupted by a loud, demanding yowl, and a very fluffy smack to their arms.
Crow breaks away first. There’s a flush decorating his skin, an awed wonder in his eyes that he doesn’t quite manage to hide as he looks away from Rean, down at the kitten. It meows again, insistent.
Crow huffs out a laugh. “Oh? Jealous, I see. Too bad, mini-me. Looks like the better Crow’s got the win here. ☆”
Rean scoffs. He feels shaky, still, like the ground isn’t quite flat beneath him and everything’s shifted a bit to the left—stars in his eyes and he’s lightheaded. Nonetheless, he gets out a tease, hand raising to pet the kitten unsteady. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. You’ve still got a ways to go if you want to secure the spot of my favourite Crow, you ass.”
“Seriously..?” Crow pauses, just for a moment, before shrugging. “Eh. Guess I can’t argue against that. So, what else do I have to do to improve?” He leans in again, thumbs at Rean’s red-stained cheekbone. “Teach me, Instructor Rean?”
Rean’s heart sticks in his throat yet again; somehow, someway, it’s ridiculously easy to speak around it this time. Through it. “You can start by kissing me again.”
“Yeah?” Crow’s voice is cool, unaffected, but there’s no hiding the vibrant blush spreading over his face. Rean smiles, helpless.
“Yeah.”
And Crow does. Careful and deep, long; until the kitten’s whining at them again, and Crow’s dragging Rean up from the bar, murmuring, “Let’s take this somewhere more private, yeah? If you want—?” into his lips, and then Rean’s the one stumbling them both half into the walls, down the hotel hallways.
They end up in Crow’s room—Rean thinks they do, at least—and Crow fumbles with the lock, clicks it shut with a clumsy turn. Beyond the door comes a high, plaintive meow, some pitiful scratches. Just for a moment, Rean thinks of that sad furry face, those wide red eyes; but then Crow’s pushing him down on the bed and kissing him again, and Rean doesn’t have to remember those eyes because they’re staring him right in the face.
Here. Now. Alive.
Well. The kitten can survive one night alone, Rean thinks, brief, and then Crow does something with his tongue, and Rean’s not thinking at all, anymore.