Lumineâs apartment was bathed in the faint silver glow of moonlight, filtering through the half-open curtains. The rain had long stopped, leaving a quiet hum of the city outside. Lumine slept peacefully, tucked beneath her blankets, her breathing soft and steady.
Scaramouche, however, couldnât rest. In his cat form, he perched on the edge of her desk, his indigo eyes fixed on the moon outside the window. How long can I keep this up? he wondered, his mind a restless whirlwind.
Being this close to herâliving under the same roof, feeling her warmth and careâwas both a blessing and a curse. It tore at him. Every day, the lines blurred further. He had promised himself he wouldnât get attached, yet here he was, pacing like a fool and thinking of her.
---
Hours passed. The clock ticked softly on the wall, and the apartment remained quiet except for the occasional shifting of Lumine beneath her covers.
Then she stirred.
Scaramouche froze. Lumine mumbled something incoherent, shifting again, and Scaramoucheâs heart jumped to his throat. Slowly, her movements settled, and her breathing evened out once more.
His fur bristled, as though his secret had nearly been dragged out of him. He hopped off the desk and padded toward her, his gaze lingering on her peaceful face. He hesitated, debating something, before retreating back into the hallway.
---
In the dim light of the living room, Scaramouche let out a long sigh, his form shimmering faintly before it shifted. Midnight fur faded into pale skin, and in an instant, the small cat had become a young man once more.
His indigo hair fell messily over his eyes as he ran a hand through it. For the first time tonight, he breathed freelyâwithout the weight of paws and fur pinning him down. His human form felt both foreign and familiar, like slipping into an old coat he hadnât worn in years.
He collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as thoughts swirled uncontrollably.
Why did you save me, Lumine?
The question had haunted him since the rainy night she first found him trembling in that box. She hadnât known who or what he was. She hadnât hesitated. She had just... saved him.
âWhy are you so kind?â he whispered into the dark room, his voice barely audible.
His chest ached, a dull pain he didnât quite understandâor perhaps didnât want to. He had lived so long without kindness, without a reason to trust or care for anyone. Yet here she was, unknowingly chipping away at the walls he had built around himself.
And he was letting her.
---
The sound of soft footsteps made him freeze.
He shot upright, his entire body tensing as Lumineâs bedroom door creaked open. Panic surged through him, and with a flicker of energy, he immediately shifted back into his cat form.
Lumine appeared in the doorway, rubbing at her eyes sleepily. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she wore an oversized hoodie that nearly swallowed her whole.
âKuni?â she murmured, squinting in the dark.
Scaramouche, now curled up on the couch as a cat once more, flicked his tail lazily, feigning disinterest. His heart was still racing, but he masked it well.
Lumine yawned and shuffled toward the kitchen, mumbling something about needing water. Scaramouche watched her, his sharp eyes following her every move.
When she returned, she stopped by the couch, crouching down beside him.
âYouâre awake too?â she whispered softly, her voice full of sleepy affection.
Scaramouche blinked, his tail flicking again.
Lumine reached out and gently scratched behind his ears. He stiffened at first, but slowly melted under her touch.
âYou always feel so warm,â she murmured, leaning her head on her arm as she gazed at him. âItâs like youâre always protecting me, you know?â
His heart skipped a beat.
Stop it, he scolded himself, youâre just a cat to her.
But Lumineâs words carried a weight that he couldnât ignore. The quiet sincerity of her voice. The soft glow in her eyes. She didnât know it, but every word was breaking him apartâsoftening him in ways he wasnât prepared for.
âIâll never understand how I found you that night,â Lumine said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. âBut⦠Iâm glad I did. I donât feel so alone anymore.â
She smiled faintly, a gentle, sleepy smile that pierced right through his chest.
Scaramouche stared at her, unable to look away.
Lumine gave him one last affectionate pat before standing up. âCome on, Kuni, letâs go back to bed.â
She turned and walked back toward her room, leaving Scaramouche frozen on the couch. He watched her retreating figure, his mind an absolute mess.
I donât deserve this, he thought bitterly.
Yet, despite his guilt, he found himself following her back to her room. He hopped onto her bed as she settled under the blankets, curling up at her feet like always.
Her presence, her warmthâit was something he couldnât resist.
As Lumine drifted back to sleep, Scaramouche watched her through half-lidded eyes, the weight of his secret pressing heavily on him. He knew he couldnât hide forever.
But for tonight, just for tonight, he allowed himself to stay close.
To bask in the comfort she offered, even if it wasnât his to claim.