As the gentle apologies continue, the boy’s expression softens even more. Still, his tightly pressed lips show no sign of opening. Calyx takes the boy’s hand, lifts it, and lightly presses his lips against the palm. Startled by the sensation against his skin, the boy flinches and quickly pulls his hand away. Calyx looks down at his abandoned hand and gives a bitter smile.
“K. What should I do for you to calm down?”
Seeing the bitter smile at his lips, the boy hesitates for a moment, fidgeting, then asks in a curt voice,
“Why did you do that? Yesterday.”
The boy avoids his gaze the instant their eyes meet. It’s behavior uncharacteristic of him. He stares off at some random spot for a moment, then sneaks a glance this way—and when their eyes meet again, he jerks his gaze away in surprise. Does he already know what answer will come to his question, and is he embarrassed, flustered at the thought of hearing it? In this moment, Calyx can’t read the boy’s thoughts clearly.
Calyx opens his mouth to repeat what he told the boy just a few hours ago.
“Because I like you. I did it without realizing it. From the very moment I first saw you, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
He wants to say it while looking straight at him, but the boy stubbornly refuses to meet his gaze. Calyx reaches out and takes the boy’s hand, the one fixed on empty space.
“K.”
At the sound of his name, the boy glances over—then immediately flinches and looks away again.
This is a confession he once thought he’d never say out loud in his lifetime, something he believed had nothing to do with him at all. Just moments ago, his heart had been fairly steady, but now it starts to race with unease. Not just the lack of an answer, but even the refusal to meet his eyes stirs the thought that this might mean rejection.
He was confident—no, even if the boy were to reject him, given time and care, the boy would inevitably fall into his arms. And yet, the mere possibility of a single rejection makes his heart this restless.
“K.”
This time, Calyx calls him with a truly earnest heart.
Perhaps sensing that feeling, the boy finally meets his eyes.
After staring at him with a complex, hard-to-read expression, the boy lightly taps Calyx’s shoulder with his hand and opens his mouth.
“Lyx. Do you really like me that much?”
Calyx smiles and nods.
“Yes. I really like you.”
To be precise, “like” alone is woefully insufficient and far more complicated than that—but there’s no need to say all of that. It would only scare him. Even now, this is a moment where rejection could fall at any second. Approaching more slowly—more naturally—would be much better.
The boy looks at him with conflicted, troubled eyes. His feelings are clearly tangled.
A deep sigh escapes his small mouth. The boy pats Calyx’s shoulder with his palm and says, as if granting a favor,
“I’ll let it slide this one time.”
Then he clenches his fist and thrusts it in front of Calyx’s face, adding,
“But if you do it even one more time, you die.”
Calyx obediently nods and replies,
“I won’t do it again without permission, so don’t worry.”
That is… without permission, at least.
The boy, having no way of knowing what’s really in his mind, nods.
“And…”
After trailing off, the boy suddenly turns his back and continues speaking.
“That, um. That thing about liking me…”
Standing with his back turned, the boy lowers his head slightly. He seems unwilling to show his face—but really, he’s completely forgotten that he’s standing in front of a mirror. Reflected clearly in the mirror beyond his back are his faintly flushed red cheeks.
“That… I’ll, like, think about it. Especially.”
After finally getting the words out, the boy mutters, “Damn it,” and rubs his heated cheeks with the back of his hand. Then he spins around, glares at Calyx with a surly look, and shouts,
“You should be grateful!”
Calyx gently smiles as he takes hold of the boy’s hand, which keeps muttering, “Damn it. This is so embarrassing. Damn it.”
“Thank you, K.”
At that, the boy starts rubbing his cheeks even harder with the back of his hand. At this rate, he’s about to start throwing a tantrum with dagger-like eyes again. Afraid the boy might even retract that “I’ll think about it,” Calyx quickly takes the boy’s hand and leads him over to the other clothes spread out on the bed. As expected, the boy’s face immediately brightens at the sight of them.
“You’ll go to the banquet with me tomorrow, right?”
Calyx asks as the boy fiddles eagerly with the new clothes. Then, worried he might fret unnecessarily, he adds,
“I plan to return late after the banquet and get a bit of sleep. I think it’d be better if we met after that and went together.”
At the implication that there would still be time for their nightly stolen kisses, the boy nods enthusiastically. Seeing the boy instantly perk up, Calyx hands him another new outfit to try on.
The boy is brimming with anticipation—but he isn’t the only one looking forward to tomorrow. Hadn’t the boy said it himself? That he’d think about it. Today, he’s calmed down, so tomorrow…
Calyx smiles inwardly as he watches the excited boy.
Meow—
At the sound of my cry, a knight cracks open the bedroom door. I slip quietly into the pitch-dark bedroom.
The patron is fast asleep on the bed, snoring softly. Even if I hop up onto the bed, even if I climb onto his chest and sit there, he doesn’t wake up.
At first, I used to hold my breath and move carefully, but these days there’s no need. From experience, I know that once this guy falls asleep, he wouldn’t notice even if someone carried him away. Sure, there are knights guarding outside, so I don’t need to be overly tense—but still, isn’t he way too carefree?
Sitting on his chest, I stare intently at the patron’s face.
There’s still a torn mark on his lower lip. The bite mark I left last night. He suddenly rubbed his snout against me, so I bit him hard. As a bonus, I also clawed his shin with all my strength.
When our lips first smacked together, all I could think was, What the hell is wrong with this guy? That was it.
But then…
“Yeah. I really like you.”
“You,” he says. You. Ugh—so greasy. Gag. Gag.
I tap the patron’s lips with my front paw.
They say the quiet cat climbs onto the kitchen counter first—old sayings really don’t miss.
How dare he stick his damn snout onto me like that? Without a word, out of nowhere. I mean, even if he had said something, it still wouldn’t be okay—but still.
The moment our snouts stuck together, I was so startled my heart nearly burst.
He has no idea how much I agonized on my own after kicking him out. My heart was pounding like crazy, my whole body was itching—it was awful. I ended up staying awake all night. And then…
“If I say I like you, will you accept it?”
He likes me. Says he liked me from the moment he first saw me.
First he goes berserk rubbing his lips on a cat because of some affection deficiency, and now he’s even making a move on me in human form. Honestly, at this point, I can’t tell if this guy’s just touch-starved or if he’s got pervert tendencies. How long have we even known each other for him to say he likes me? And on top of that, he just sticks his lips on me whenever he wants.
I extend my claws and poke at the patron’s lips, poke, poke.
Truth be told, it’s not like I’ve only kissed the patron once or twice. Every night, when I try to transform into a human, we end up smashing lips. If we’re being technical, I’m just as guilty of stealing his lips without permission. But that’s only ever snout-smashing in cat form. Doing it in human form is a whole different level of problem.
Well, his claim that he likes me probably isn’t a lie. He has no reason to lie about that. Even if we only meet briefly at night to mess around, it might’ve meant a lot to someone as lonely as him. To be honest, I also found it pretty fun to meet him in human form and hang out together.
Hmm…
I narrow my eyes and slowly lean toward his lips. Then I flick my tongue out and give his lower lip a quick lick. Instantly, my whole body—from the tips of my ears to the end of my tail—starts itching like crazy. My heart pounds furiously, thump-thump-thump. At this rate, I might actually die of a heart attack.
With a troubled heart, I settled back down on the patron’s chest.
My heart is still racing, and even my toes feel tingly. I take out my claws and lightly scratch at his chest, but the itchiness refuses to fade. On top of that, his voice keeps echoing in my ears.
“Yeah. I really like you.”
It’s a disgustingly cheesy, ticklish thing to say—but the patron’s golden eyes when he said it were really beautiful.
