Ash of 100 Cats Ch. 2

“…This is madness.” Alfred grumbled to himself as he lay on his side and stared out his bedroom window.

For the entire month, it seemed, the morning had greeted him with bird song and the soft light of the sun. However, the rain from last night had slowed to a drizzle but hadn’t stopped, leaving Alfred’s lawn looking about as pathetic as a drowned rat.

“What the Hell, man. I can tell today is totally gonna suck my jingle bells.” Alfred complained as he pushed himself into a sitting position with a tired groan. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, blue eyes drifting toward the picture on his nightstand by the head of his bed.

“Mornin’ guys,” He whispered and stood up, snatching his glasses off his nightstand and dropping them onto his face. As much as he’d like to, Alfred couldn’t stay in bed all day and so he forced himself to his dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans.

He stepped into them with one leg but continued to make his way to his closet before he stepped into the other leg, resulting in him hopping the last few steps as he yanked the denim up his legs and fastened a belt around his waist.

Alfred fished a white short sleeved t-shirt and a dark blue zip up sweater from his closet and pulled them on. Shoulders slumped in a manner akin to a dead man walking to the gallows; Alfred padded into the bathroom to comb his hair and brushed his teeth, albeit a little slower than usual. When he opened the cabinet a small bottle of antidepressants immediately drew his attention.

A frown pulled Alfred’s lips down as he fixed the bottle with a glare. He hated those things, not because they didn’t work, don’t get him wrong they did, but because he hated having to rely on something to create happiness.

Why couldn’t he make his own?

In the silence of the house, it was easy to hear the muffled tapping of the rain dancing on the roof. The very thought of the rain awaiting him outside depressed him almost to the point of no return.  

Alfred reached for the antidepressants and took two dry before putting it back.

Fighting against the dark trickle of despair slowly slithering to the forefront of his mind as he waited for the pills to work, Alfred shook his head almost violently and had to straighten his glasses as he turned from the mirror. He ran to the dryer, yanked his; now dry, shoes out and jammed them onto his feet.

Knowing that staying in the empty house, which his parents had left him, would lead him to the razor blade hidden under the sink, medication in his system or not, Alfred left without eating his usual bowl of cereal.

With his backpack hastily slung onto his shoulder and all but slamming the door behind him, Alfred shoved his keys into his pocket and started running down the sidewalk as fast as he could. He tried not to think about the rain or his parents and beloved older brother as he ran.

It had been a rainy and dismal day when the three of them had been taken from him, leaving the young American to walk the road of life alone. Alfred pushed himself to run faster in an attempt to push it out of his mind, refusing to think about it.

However, it didn’t matter how hard he tried to push the dark memory to the back of his mind, it wouldn’t go away. Every street corner, every car that was either red or black, every pot hole, every puddle and every drop of rain sent his mind back in time and made vivid images flash before his eyes.

Tormenting and mocking him of his inability to so much as lift a finger to help Matthew as he watched the life drain from his tanzanite eyes.

That was the moment that haunted him the most and drove him to reach for one of the many razor blades hidden throughout his house. Alfred focused on his burning lungs, the rough feel of his breath rushing through his throat, and the harsh stomp of his sneakers on the sidewalk in a last ditch effort to push the memory away.

Alfred’s hair was sticking to his forehead from the rain and the bottom of his jeans was drenched from the puddles he had run through. He sped down the street, hood sliding over a few cars that had come to screeching halts in order to avoid hitting him, which caused angry honking and shouting, until he finally rounded a corner and the high school came into view.

A head of familiar jet black hair, guarded from the rain by a red umbrella, was the first thing Alfred’s gaze landed on. The dark feeling that had plagued his mind disappeared and his heart gave a happy flutter at the sight of his secret crush. Kiku Honda, the school’s Japanese transfer student, always made Alfred feel better, or maybe it was just the antidepressants finally kicking in.

“Kiku!” Alfred shouted. Kiku turned around in time to see Alfred’s 100 watt smile before he threw his arms around the small Japanese man, smashing Kiku’s face into his chest. Alfred felt him stiffen, as expected, so he wasn’t surprised when the smaller man began struggling in his arms.

“A-Alfred, you know I don’t like my personal bubble being invaded,” Kiku protested and pushed Alfred away with a gentle but firm shove. The American chuckled good naturedly and immediately regretted it when it took the remaining air from his lungs and left him inhaling sharply lest he pass out.

Kiku smiled up at Alfred and turned on his heel, resuming his quest to get inside the school building and out of the rain. Kiku’s smile dissolved and was replaced by a concerned frown, looking back at the American.

“I see you sprinted to school again,” he said as Alfred fell into step beside him, “Do you-“

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Alfred interrupted, his own smile vanishing.

They walked in a tense silence as they pushed the doors open and fought through the mass of bodies up to the second floor and to their lockers. Alfred spun the lock and opened his locker then stared at the spines of the books he needed for the first half of the day with distain. Forcing happy and positive thoughts into his mind, Alfred placed his text books into his backpack before closing his locker and replacing the lock.

“…Alfred, I have a favor to ask of you,” Kiku finally spoke up as he shut his own locker and turned to pin Alfred to the wall with his deep brown eyes. The American had to force himself to breath normally; he could drown in those eyes and regret nothing.

This must be what those butterflies in museums feel like. Alfred mused to himself.

“’Sup?” He forced a small smile onto his face. Even if it hurt to show a mask to Kiku, as long as it kept him thinking that everything was fine than Alfred found that he could keep the mask in place much easier. Kiku opened his mouth but it was at that moment that the bell rang, drowning him out.

“…After school.” Kiku said and inclined his head in a small bow before walking away to his first class. Alfred turned on his toe and made his way back down to the first floor for his math class, all the while trying to keep his curiosity in check so that he could focus. He didn’t want to end up like the cat that curiosity had killed but the more he thought of what Kiku wanted to talk to him about, the more his train of thought derailed.

By the time the final bell rang, Alfred was practically vibrating with excitement. It was a good thing he didn’t have work today. When his locker came into sight, amidst the swarms of students, his heart fluttered again as he noticed that Kiku was already there, waiting for him. The small Japanese man was fidgeting with the cuff of his white jacket.

“So what favor do you need?” Alfred asked as he stopped in front of Kiku, figuring it would be best to get straight to the point. Kiku’s eyes darted around before they looked up into Alfred’s steady gaze.

Even to Alfred, King of Can’t Read the Atmosphere, Kiku looked nervous. Not in the same sense of lying to someone but more in the sense of doing something you’re not completely comfortable doing. Instead of answering, Kiku tugged on Alfred’s sleeve twice before walking away with the American in tow.

~~I am a Time Skip named Larry~~

As the duo got closer to Kiku’s house, the raven haired youth seemed to get more fidgety. Alfred, for once, opted to stay silent but only because he knew Kiku valued his personal space above all else and had never, not once in all the years of knowing each other, invited Alfred over to his house for anything.

No doubt bringing him to his house now was chewing on his already frayed nerves.

Kiku unlocked the door and pushed it open, calling out something in Japanese into the empty house. Alfred was pretty sure he said ‘I’m home’ or something to that effect. The house was exactly what Alfred had imagined it to be, clean and tidy.

A dog barked from the back of the house and pawed at a door, which one Alfred couldn’t say. Kiku took his shoes off and then hung his backpack on a peg nailed into the wall beside the door, Alfred followed his example. Swallowing so hard that the blonde heard it, Kiku lead the way upstairs and into his room.

Alfred couldn’t help but take note of the many anime posters and comic books lined up neatly in white shelves that ran the perimeter of the room. Kiku’s bed was pushed up against the left wall, which left plenty of room for his computer desk and compact coffee table on the right side of the room. Alfred did a double take as Kiku kneeled down at the foot of his bed and dug underneath of it.

“Umm, what are you doing?” Alfred asked, finally breaking the tense silence.

“Onii-chan can’t know, it’s been hard enough trying to come up with excuses to keep Pochi out of my room,” Kiku began; his voice was muffled a little, “I feel terrible for lying but…” He trailed off as he came out from digging and sat up, he had a shoe box clutched protectively to his chest as he turned to Alfred.

By now Alfred didn’t know what to think. What was Kiku hiding in that box that he would need to keep his dog away from? Kiku stood up and walked over to Alfred, stopping a few feet away.

“The favor I need to ask is that…” Kiku opened the lid of the box. It was lined with a thick piece of fabric and some cotton balls. In the center was a small ball of trembling fur curled around a water bottle, which was surprisingly still warm. “Could you take care of him for me? I was going to take him to the shelter but I was concerned about his future home and I know you live in a place that allows pets.” Kiku looked up hopefully.

Alfred didn’t know what the hell it was.

The small animal was mainly white with a few orange spots but he couldn’t tell which end was the head and which was the tail because it was curled up into such a tight ball. Alfred carefully used his index finger and stroked the animal’s back. The thing was so small that he would have no problem holding it in one hand. It-wait, no, Kiku called it a ‘he’-lifted his head and looked up at the American.

It was a Scottish fold kitten.

His ears were so small and curled over that it appeared that he didn’t have any ears to speak of. The kitten’s eyes where a beautiful emerald green that were glazed over with a fever and, strangely enough, had thick eyebrows. He was the most adorable thing Alfred had seen in all his life. Before he could even think about fighting it, not that he would have, a large grin broke out over his face.

“What’s his name?” Alfred asked as he stroked the kitten with his finger again. Already he felt a strange attachment to him.

“Igirisu.” Kiku smiled. The kitten sneezed so hard it shook its tiny frame; he sniffled miserably and curled back up into a ball of trembling fluff.

“How’d he get so sick?” Alfred’s brow creased in concern for the small feline. Kiku looked down at Igirisu and frowned sadly.

“I found him yesterday stuck in a drain pipe. He must have gotten sick from all that rain,”

“Poor dude,” Alfred carefully took the box from Kiku and resisted the urge to pet Igirisu again, in case he couldn’t handle being held or touched at that moment.

“...What do you think of nicknaming him ‘Iggy’.” Alfred grinned down at the Japanese teen.

Kiku’s smile widened a fraction.

“Hai, I think that suits him.”

Igirisu sneezed again.