Catnip(v.2) - END

I don’t think there’s even been a moment when I haven’t felt at odds with my body.

Growing up, I wasn’t a kid, but an oversized kitten. I scratched everything I could reach, and climbed curtains and cabinets to expand that list. My energy was boundless – a trait of my ‘breed’, I’ve been told; I spent every ounce of it chasing ghosts, shadows, and even my own tail when I felt like it. And once it was all finally depleted, I’d curl up in a warm spot inside a cupboard or beneath a sunbeam, and fall into a long, peaceful nap.

Contented as I was back then, I’d always be leaving a trail of mayhem in my wake. Needless to say, my neat freak mother didn’t appreciate that. It still baffles me to this day how patient she’s always been, though. I can’t recall a single time she’d raised her voice. Whether it was knocking a cup off the coffee table, or tearing her latest sewing project to shreds, she’d use the same compassionate tone.

“It’s okay, Asacchi. You’ll learn how to deal with it, one day.”

My first memory is hearing those exact words. I’ve long forgotten what I did to earn them, but I could never forget the weary disappointment lurking beneath the surface. Though she never said it out loud, another testament to her stellar parenting, she couldn’t really hide how much she wished that I’d stop causing so much trouble. That she didn’t have to work so hard to raise me on her own. That her husband didn’t leave because he didn’t want to be the father of a freak. That I wasn’t born the unfortunate way I was.

The moment I realised that’s how she felt was the moment I began suppressing the cat part of me. Because what kind of ungrateful child wouldn’t try their damnedest to help the person who sacrificed so much for her sake?

It’s probably pointless to say it was an uphill journey. With my early childhood mostly spent in the privacy of my small flat, elementary school proved an almost insurmountable challenge. I couldn’t sit still. I let everyone pet me, only to bite them when I’d had enough. And being away from my mother for six hours every day made me cry far more often than I’m willing to admit.

But in the end, I’d pulled through. It had taken years of therapy, medication, and countless trials and errors, but come high school I was sure I had a perfect grip on myself. I’d even come up with a system to help me navigate my day-to-day. A means to map every catlike behaviour to its normal equivalent, and subdue the instinct, if I couldn’t come up with any.

I’ve never managed to do any of that whenever I was around Hayakawa.

I’m still purring like a lawnmower by the time we reach the back of my building. Far from stopping anytime soon, it feels like the whirr is only getting louder with every passing second. My hyperventilating is only making things worse, but I can’t do too much about that. Whichever way I look at it, this situation is nothing if not humiliating. And Hayakawa’s attitude isn’t helping either. She’s been swallowing giggles for far too long now.

The second she steps onto the landing, I sit up straight. “I think I can handle it from here.”

“You sure? I can help you all the way to your flat if you want.”

“I’m sure.” I don’t think I’ll survive the lift ride.

“… If you say so.” She doesn’t sound too convinced, but she’s not in the mood to press the subject either. Her pulse has been going a mile a minute ever since we left the train station, and I’ve listened to enough heartbeats in my life to know it wasn’t just because she was carrying me. Slightly shaking (I knew I was too heavy), she bends her knees, and I get off her back as gracefully as my sore muscles allow me to.

And because I’m an idiot, and a stubborn one at that, I decide it’s a good idea to try and put some weight on my very much still-injured foot. If it weren’t for my exhaustion, the pain would’ve startled me enough to send me flying towards the hedges. Instead, I lean into it, my knees buckle, and I brace myself for a hard kiss with the marble floor.

“Woah!”

That is, of course, if Hayakawa weren’t as observant as ever.

She slides one arm around my waist to break my fall, then before I can even think of pulling away, she sets my hand on her shoulder. The little breath left in her lungs, she wastes on a sigh. “Are you really really sure?”

My teeth are clattering, mouth refusing to open for more than a shapeless stutter. The way she’s holding me up, how close our faces are, the worry in her voice, her gaze, it’s all to much for me. If I could only hear it before, now I can actually feel my throat vibrating.

All I can give her for an answer is a soundless nod, and a bashful glance-away. I fumble through my pockets for an awkward while before I can finally produce my fob and scan it against the intercom. The door opens with a click, and Hayakawa pulls it open for me, then props it with her thigh.

And it hits me all of a sudden how much I don’t want to let go of her, or her to let go of me; how many things I want to do just because I like her company, and how many I’m struggling to keep a lid on. And it’s only because I know I’d hate it if I let myself go more than I already have, that I push away from her and limp inside.

Right away, the purring subsides – only to pick back up when I realise that Hayakawa’s following behind me. An uncomfortable grimace burdens her features.

“W-what are you doing?” I ask.

“I –” she bites her lip “ – Look, I can understand you may not like it if people see you hurting. It’s part of your condition, after all. But it’s twice you’ve stumbled now, and I’d feel so much better if I made sure you get in your flat all in one piece.”

A small growl escapes my chest, muffled beneath the rumble. “Okay.”

I call the lift and it doesn’t take too long to arrive. Climbing up to the top, on the other hand, feels like small eternity. For something that’s supposed to service three hundred people, the cabin is incredibly tight. There’s barely enough space for the two of us to fit in without our elbows rubbing together, and it’s driving me insane.

When we stop at my floor, I shoot out into the hallway before the gap fully opens. My shoulder bumps against the door, only I don’t lose my balance this time around. Not that Hayakawa would’ve allowed me to, but the fewer opportunities she has to swoop in, the better. Thankfully, we don’t have too long of a walk ahead of us – the benefits of living in a penthouse.

She watches me as I turn the key in the lock and push down the handle, relief swimming in her eyes. Hesitantly, partly because of my ankle, and partly because it feels strange to part like that, I linger on the thin line of the wooden threshold.

“Thank you for seeing me all this way,” I mumble, scratching my cheek. My fingers ache to rub against it, but I stave off the urge for the time being. Much as I hate to say it, being on home territory is soothing enough for now.

“No worries. You probably know this already, but you should rest up for the next couple of days. Ice packs should help with the pain, and you should try and keep your ankle elevated to limit swelling.”

“I know.”

“Also, erm, if you need anything over the weekend, like someone to grab you groceries, or help you around the house – really, anything – just give me a call, okay?”

“O-okay, I’ll think about it. Thanks. It means a lot, really,” I say, but it doesn’t sound like it. Now matter how hard I tried to learn how, I’ve never been able to express the full breadth of my feelings through words alone. Unfortunately, the only way I could be fully honest was the one I avoided at all costs.

Because if today was anything to go by, when it came to showing affection, the cat in me would always come through.

Hayakawa chuckles.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing. I guess I’m just a bit surprised that you still haven’t stopped purring.”

“It’ll stop if I hold my breath.”

“You’ll run out of air eventually.”

“Not if I pass out first.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I still find it cute, you know?”

“How can it possibly be cute?” Even if I can predict the answer, it still exasperates me. Sometimes it feels like I’m the only person in the world that finds shame in these stupid quirks.

“Well, apart from the obvious, it’s just comforting. Up until now, I never really knew what you felt about me. It’s nice to finally get some confirmation – in any way, shape, or sound.”

My chin dips, my cheeks burning hot, much to Hayakawa’s delight. “Dummy…” I whisper.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop teasing you.” She pulls out her phone and checks the time. “Well, better get going now. Dad’s gonna kill me if I’m not home soon.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Despite what you may be thinking, I had fun today.”

So did I, I think, but obviously I can’t say it out loud. “Get home safe, Hayakawa.”

“Will do. You have a good evening too, Kitora-san.” She waves me off with a smile, then pads back towards the lift, an obvious pep in her stride. But as the distance between us grows bigger and bigger, so too does the regret welling up inside of me. I really wish I could’ve hugged her goodbye, but the thought of it alone is enough to make way for deeper, far more feline desires.

Though with Hayakawa now far away, my mind’s clear enough to be able to come up with something normal to channel all of that yearning.

“Asami,” I say before she’s out of earshot.

She stops and whips around, confused. “Huh?”

“You can call me Asami.”

Her brow flies wide. A couple blinks later, she’s still in disbelief, though at least it doesn’t prevent her from speaking anymore. Or grinning smug like a swindler after a successful scam. “Very well, then. See ya tomorrow, Asami-chan.”

I shut the door behind me, then slowly, but surely melt down onto the floor. Perhaps I overdid it. If she’s this cute now after the long day we’ve had, I can’t imagine how she’ll be tomorrow morning, with a full night’s sleep and a brand new way to mess with me.