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The cat looks up at him, blinks, and decides that Ilya is the most interesting thing in the apartment. She winds around his ankles before he scoops her up, holding her against his chest as though she’s something precious. “A kitten.”

I nod, and he looks at me, stunned. “You got a cat?”

“Mm.”

He looks back down at her. She’s a tiny yellow thing. Ilya brings her nose close to his and gives her a little boop.

She purrs, and his mouth falls open. “Oh, you’re perfect.”

“I figured Kuro was getting lonely.”

His head snaps up. “You put her next to that monster?”

“Don’t be mean. She likes him.”

Ilya looks down at the kitten again. “She’ll like me more.”

He tucks her closer against his chest and kisses the top of her tiny head. Then, for the next three hours, I barely fucking exist.

I watch from the doorway as he sits on the floor with her, letting her climb over his legs. He talks to her constantly, his voice changing into something brighter than the one he uses with anyone else, including me.

Am I jealous of a cat? Yeah, I think I am.

I found the little creature wandering the streets the other day, looking pitiful. Something about her reminded me of him, maybe the yellow fur. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her out there, so I took her home. A decision I’m beginning to regret rather spectacularly.

By the time I go to check on him, I find him half-reclined on my couch with Cookies, as he named her, curled against his stomach, his fingers moving over her back while he sleeps.

I slide one arm beneath his knees and the other around his back, lifting him while the kitten stirs, but Ilya only makes a quiet sound and curls closer to me.

I carry him to my bedroom as the kitten hops down and follows. I settle Ilya into my bed and pull the blanket over him. He shifts toward the warmth before his eyes even open, and when I lie down beside him, he immediately finds me.

I love him like this. Asleep, Ilya becomes shamelessly clingy, all those vicious little defenses abandoning their posts while his body gravitates toward mine.

***

In the morning, while staring down at him, I decide it’s time to do what I always wanted to do.

I wake him with a kiss and murmur against his hair. “Come on, prince. I want to show you something.”

He makes a disgruntled sound and burrows deeper into the pillow. Cookies, who has claimed the space near his hip, opens one eye and promptly closes it again.

I chuckle and brush my thumb along his face. “Ilya.”

“Go away.”

“No.”

He cracks one eye open and glares at me. “I’m sleeping.”

“You were sleeping. Now you’re complaining.” I slide an arm beneath his shoulders and lift him into a sitting position before he can mount a proper defense. “Up.”

He makes another noise of protest, but his hands come up to grip my shirt, and I take that as permission to haul him out of bed entirely, with Cookies trotting behind us both like a tiny chaperone.

An hour later, we are in front of my studio. “What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.” I unlock the door and push it open, gesturing him inside.

Ilya turns in a circle, his gaze moving over the shrouded shapes. “I never thought to ask, but why is everything covered? It’s not Halloween, you know. Half this room looks like it’s haunted by ghosts.”