Chapter Text
‘Stelle likes dreams.
Can play anywhere.
Eat nummy cookies.
But.
‘Stelle have weird dream.
She all fuzzy.
Small-small. Soft-soft.
Paws ‘stead of hands. Tail that go swish.
Thinkin’ is funny. Not like when she awake.
Just warm. Just now.
She a kitten.
It cold.
Smell stinky.
No like here.
Where here?
“A kitten?”
Who dat?
She look up.
Boy?
Big boy.
Big, big.
Like tree.
Like mountain.
He giant!
She crawl close.
Tail wiggle. Paws soft.
Play time?
“I don’t have any food.”
S’okay.
No need food.
Just play.
“Leave me alone.”
Nooo.
No leave.
Wanna play!
You big! You fun!
Pat pat.
Please no go.
“Are you deaf? I said go away!”
No no!
No go!
Too fast!
Too big!
Wait!
…He gone.
Far gone.
No play.
No stay.
Mean boy.
Mean dream.
Cold.
No big cookies?
No outside?
“You again?”
Oh!
Mean big boy!
Dis dream ‘gain!
Where, where?
It dark.
Real dark.
No play.
Nap time?
Nooooo want nap.
Dis ‘Stelle dream.
Light now!
…No light.
Still dark.
Bad dream.
“Quiet! You’ll get me caught!”
Oh?
Game?
Hide seek?
You hide?
‘Stelle play!
“Get away from me.”
But but!
No play?
You shake!
Hide with ‘Stelle!
No shake!
No!
No push ‘Stelle!
‘Stelle stay!
…’Stelle scared.
No like room.
Cold.
No want dark.
“...Just stay quiet.”
‘Kay.
No talk.
Good hider.
Safe.
Stinky.
Stink dream.
High place.
Squishy black.
Wanna wake up.
Clatter .
Oops.
Crash.
No like!
No like!
“Shh!”
Big boy?
Where go?
Door slam .
“Tch…damn cats, digging in the garbage. Rat poison outta take care of ‘em.”
Slam .
Want down.
No like high.
Where boy?
“How do you keep finding me?”
Big boy!
Pat pat.
‘Stelle dream.
‘Stelle do anyding?
No…but when ‘Stelle kitten-
Small-small. Soft-soft.
But try.
Try help.
What words?
What man say?
Still learn words.
Still learn talk.
But know ‘cats’!
Man say ‘rat’ too.
‘Stelle listen.
‘Stelle learn.
“Ha…”
Boy?
Why sad?
Oh!
You carry?
Carry ‘Stelle?
“You’re gonna keep following me, huh?”
Fol-low.
Fol-low.
Ohhh!
Know word!
Yeah!
Fol-low boy!
“Why am I even talking to a kitten…”
Listen.
Hear boy.
Be qui-et.
Like carry.
Small-small.
Kitten ‘gain.
Smell stink.
Where now?
Sniff sniff .
Bad smells.
No like.
“There’s no way you’re real.”
Big boy!
Pat pat.
Find you!
…Boy?
‘Stelle here.
Talk?
Play?
Want no talk?
‘Stelle no talk.
Why eat bad food?
Mama say green stuff bad.
Stop eat bread.
Green bread bad.
Pat pat pat.
No eat.
Please?
Mama say no.
Mama smart.
Boy…boy eat.
…
‘Stelle climb!
Climb on boy!
Stop!
No eat!
‘Stelle no like!
“Ah!”
“Mew!”
Thud .
Boy…boy push ‘Stelle?
Make…’Stelle fall?
…
‘Stelle sit.
‘Stelle wait.
‘Stelle sorry.
No climb boy.
‘Stelle sorry…
Soft-soft…
No.
No want dream.
No want kitten.
Want awake.
Boy…boy no want.
No want ‘Stelle.
No talk ‘Stelle.
No look ‘Stelle.
‘Stelle want awake.
Cold dream.
Paw hurts.
Snow snow.
…Snow?
Snow!
Boy, snow!
Play!
…Cold?
Pat pat.
Shoes have holes.
New shoes?
Where coat?
Outside cold.
Need warm.
…Boy cold.
No stay.
Inside.
Warm.
“Please…go away…”
No.
Cold.
No go.
“Live on.”
…’Stelle…’Stelle climb.
“Ah-Ow! Get off!”
No!
Boy cold!
“Fine, I get it, sheesh…”
Boy go?
Warm?
“Shh, shh… I can’t feed you. But I’ll keep you warm.”
‘Stelle fine.
Soft-soft.
Boy.
No coat.
No warm.
Go go!
“We’ll have to wait. Can you…can you hold on a while longer?”
‘Stelle wait.
Boy no alone.
“Purr.”
Boy…boy pet ‘Stelle?
…’Stelle friend.
Boy dream friend.
Keep safe.
“Good morning, Estelle. Did you have a nice dream?”
“Mmmm…was cold.”
“My poor little girl. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you an extra blanket tonight.”
Dream weird.
Boy no go home.
Stinky, cold room.
Smelly, smelly, smelly.
No Mama.
No Papa.
…Want hug Mama.
“Aww, did my little girl have a sad dream?”
“Mmhmm…”
Boy alone.
“Let’s go find Daddy, see if he can make those sad dreams go away.”
But boy.
Boy alone.
No leave alone.
Boy ‘Stelle friend.
No alone.
Kevin doesn’t know what to do.
Mom’s gone. They took her away, and he can’t even go back into the house. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. He’s alone.
He feels like he can’t breathe.
The orphanage? He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want anyone else. His dad left, and Mom…she tried to…hurt him. And now she’s gone too. He doesn’t want to think about that either.
Kevin starts walking. His feet move without thinking, just needing to get away. His legs take him down the street, around the corner, and before he knows it, he’s in an alley. He sits down against a well, pulling his knees up to his chest.
“I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anyone,” he says quietly, even though it doesn’t feel true. He wishes it were.
“Mew?”
Kevin blinks, looking up.
A tiny brown kitten stands in front of him, its legs wobbly like it doesn’t know how to walk right. It’s so small, too small to be out here by itself.
“A kitten?” Kevin whispers, confused.
The kitten mews again, looking at him like it wants something. It wobbles closer, its little paws tapping at his legs, tail swishing behind it.
Kittens don’t talk, Kevin thinks, but the way it keeps mewing at him makes him feel like it’s trying to.
“I don’t have any food,” Kevin says tiredly. His stomach growls, but he’s too tired to care. He hasn’t eaten in a while, but he can’t go back to the house. Not now.
The kitten bats at his fingers, mewing like it doesn’t understand. Kevin just wants quiet. He doesn’t want to play. Doesn’t want to talk.
“Leave me alone,” Kevin mutters, stepping back. The kitten keeps following him, its paws tapping the ground, still mewing.
“Are you deaf?” Kevin snaps, his patience thinning.
“I said go away!” Kevin shouts, but the kitten doesn’t leave. It only follows.
Kevin runs, like he always does, not thinking about where he’s going. When he finally stops, he’s lost. All the streets look the same. He crouches behind a trash can, the smell making his stomach turn.
It’s fine. He’s fine. He has to be.
Kevin pulls his knees tighter to his chest, trying to stop the shaking in his hands. His lip quivers, and he bites it, hard, to stop himself from crying. He’s not going to cry.
But the kitten is still there, somewhere. He can hear it.
“I’m fine,” Kevin whispers, but it sounds fake. He’s not fine. He’s not sure he ever will be.
Kevin wrapped himself up in the blanket he managed to grab.
Getting lost had turned out to be kind of lucky. A few weeks ago, he’d wandered into this empty building that no one seemed to care about. No one looked for him here. No one came around. He had been hiding here ever since, running from the grown-ups. No one had found him yet.
He just had to remember to slip the board back into place over the window when he left or came back.
Now, he buried himself deeper into the blanket, trying to remember something soft. A smell. Something that used to make him feel safe. Flowery. But it was all gone. All of it.
Everything was gone.
Every time he started to think about her-
His hand shot up to his neck.
Don’t think about it.
“Mew.”
Huh?
Kevin blinked. His eyes darted around the dim room. He froze when he saw the tiny brown kitten, stumbling around near his bag. It was wobbling and clumsy.
“You again?” Kevin whispered.
How long had it been? A month? More? He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t care. He didn’t go to school anymore, didn’t care about anything. He just wanted to be left alone.
“Mew! Mew mew meeeeew!”
The kitten’s meows were too loud. Way too loud. Kevin’s eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. He scrambled forward, arms out, trying to shush it without touching it.
The kitten didn’t stop. It batted at his hands, then sat down and let out a long yowl.
“Quiet! You’ll get me caught!” Kevin hissed, his voice tight.
He bit down on a shout of his own. If someone heard that, they’d come check the building, and he’d lose his safe spot. He couldn’t let that happen.
Then, the kitten stopped. Just like that. It went back to circling his feet, batting at his shoes like it thought this was some game.
“Get away from me,” Kevin muttered, stepping back.
He went back into his corner, wrapping the blanket around him again. His eyes squeezed shut.
He tried to think about home.
It wasn’t perfect. He didn’t even know what perfect was. But it had been his home. It was all he knew.
He swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t.
The blanket was enough. It had to be enough.
He had snuck in when no one was looking, right before they boarded up the house. The neighbors hadn’t stopped him. No one cared.
Now, home was gone.
He curled up tighter, his body shaking. His fingers dug into the blanket, but it didn’t help.
He couldn’t cry.
It was his fault.
If he hadn’t run away-
If he’d stayed-
Maybe she wouldn’t have-
“Mew.”
Kevin’s eyes snapped open. He was shaking, his breath coming faster. The kitten was there again, curled up beside him. Its purring was soft and warm, like a little motor against his leg.
Kevin didn’t move.
“...Just stay quiet,” he whispered.
The kitten didn’t say anything. It just laid there, purring softly, its tiny body warm against him.
It really should go.
He didn’t have anything to give it. No food. No water.
And he wouldn’t stay here forever.
Not with the strange noises he heard at night.
But he hoped the kitten would be okay.
It stinks. The air around the dumpster is thick and gross, but Kevin’s stomach growls louder than the smell. His nerves are tight. Every few seconds, he glances up, just in case someone shows up.
No luck today. The older scavengers must’ve already hit this place. It’s quiet. Too quiet.
He can’t stay here too long. Too risky. He needs to move.
Kevin peeks over the edge of the dumpster, eyes scanning the area.
Safe.
Carefully, he climbs, one foot sliding onto the empty crate. His fingers dig into the side of the dumpster, holding on tight to keep from falling. Slow. slow.
His heart races. Why does it always feel like someone’s gonna catch him?
He lets go. His foot slips.
The stack wobbles.
Slow, slow…
He lets go.
The stack wobbles.
Clatter .
Kevin’s eyes snap open, and he jerks back. There it is. The kitten. The same kitten. It’s sitting right on top of the trash pile.
His heart skips. His legs almost give out under him. He scrambles to pull himself back.
The crates fall, tumbling down in a crash. Kevin hits the ground, his hands scraping against the rough pavement. His teeth grit together to stop the scream building in his throat.
“Mew! Mew!”
The kitten wobbles, walking in circles on top of the garbage bags, its little legs sliding as it tries not to fall.
Kevin’s chest tightens. Panic surges. What if someone heard? What if the man comes back? He scrambles into one of the crates and curls up, hands clutched around his knees, heart thudding in his chest.
“Shh!” Kevin hisses, desperate to be quiet.
But the kitten just mews louder, like it doesn’t understand. Or maybe it doesn’t care.
Footsteps. A door slams open.
Kevin freezes, holding his breath, his heart in his throat.
“Tch…damn cats, digging in the garbage,” a voice mutters. “Rat poison outta take care of ‘em.”
Slam . The door closes.
Kevin flinches. His stomach churns. Rat poison. The man didn’t even try to scare the kitten away. He didn’t care. He was just gonna leave it to die.
Kevin can’t let that happen. He can’t let that kitten die.
He peeks out from the crate. The coast is clear. He takes a deep breath and crawls out, keeping low.
The kitten’s still stuck in the trash, claws catching on the plastic, struggling to stay upright. It slides a little and mews again, louder than before.
“Ha…” Kevin sighs, staring at the kitten.
It’s still tiny. It hasn’t grown at all. Shouldn’t it be bigger by now? It’s been a couple of months, maybe?
His chest feels all right, like there’s a weight pressing down on him.
He should leave it. He really should.
But…he had already decided to save it.
With another sigh, Kevin reaches out. His hand hovers over the kitten’s little body. It taps at his fingers.
“Meeeew. Meeew.”
He has to move. He has to help it.
Before he even thinks about it, he picks it up, scooping it under the front legs. Its little body dangles in his hands like it’s too small, too fragile.
No hissing. No scratching. It just keeps mewing, soft and helpless.
“You’re gonna keep following me, huh?” Kevin whispers, staring down at it.
What’s he doing? This is just a kitten.
He’s not keeping it. He can’t.
He’s not lonely. He’s just-
“Why am I even talking to a kitten…” Kevin mutters, but the words feel hollow.
Still, it’s like he can’t leave it. Not with the poison here, not with the man just waiting to come back.
Kevin looks down at the little thing again. It’s still the same kitten from before. The one he saw in the alley. The one that followed him around, never giving up.
He’s…kinda glad it’s okay.
Kevin glances back at the door, then starts walking, holding the kitten close. Can’t let it go back to the garbage. Not when it’s still this tiny. Not when it might be in danger.
His scowl deepens. Now, he’ll have to find somewhere to clean up.
A soft purr makes him flinch. It’s the first time the kitten has stopped mewing. It’s not squirming. No trying to get away. It just stays there, purring softly in his hands.
He’s not keeping it. He’s not.
It’s just…to keep it safe.
That’s all.
He’ll wash it too. Just in case.
It’s weirdly soft.
Kevin shoves the bread into his mouth, trying not to gag.
It’s soft in the wrong way. Tastes weird. There’s green fuzz on the edges, but he picked off most of it. At least it wasn’t wet or powdery. He chews quickly, barely tasting it, the stale crust sticking to the roof of his mouth.
The warehouse is cold-the kind of cold that seeps into your bones. His hiding spot’s tucked in the far corner, behind some stacked crates and broken pallets. Above, a single overhead bulb flickers, casting long, jerky shadows across the cracked concrete. The air smells like rust and mildew, tinged with something old, something left too long.
It’s the best he could find.
Too many people have been sneaking into Emerose lately. The good spots get emptied fast. And the rain’s been making everything rot quicker.
He’s been extra careful since the rat poison thing.
He can tell what’s normal gross now. Garbage has a certain stink-he’s used to it. But sometimes, there’s something else. Something sharp, like gasoline. He smelled that once. Didn’t touch a thing.
Next day, he overheard grown-ups whispering about fires.
Something cold brushes against his foot. Like an itty bitty nose.
He freezes.
No.
It’s just the bread. Probably.
“There’s no way you’re real,” he mutters, not looking down.
Kittens don’t stay tiny forever. Even if they’re starving, they still grow. They’d be bony and weak, but not this small. It’s been months. So maybe he imagined her both times.
Unable to handle another-
Don’t think about it.
A drop of water plinks somewhere high above, echoing faintly. The shadows feel longer now. The silence feels too still.
A soft tap brushes against his foot.
He flinches.
No way.
It’s just the bread. Or maybe he’s going crazy.
Maybe his head’s making it all up.
His fingers tremble as he grips the bread tighter, stuffing more into his mouth.
Munch.
Not real.
Munch.
Not-
Claws dig into his leg.
“Ah!”
The bread flies from his fingers as he shoves the kitten away on reflex.
“Mew!”
It hits the ground with a soft thud, rolling to a stop against an old newspaper wrapper stuck to the floor for weeks. Then-nothing.
No more mewing.
Just the faint rustle of something small shifting nearby.
He stares at his leg. The scratches sting.
That was real.
Way too real.
His chest squeezes tight. His breathing goes jagged. Too fast. He curls in, his fingers digging into his shirt like he’s trying to hold something in.
Hold it together.
He hurt it.
He hurt the only thing that-
No. No crying.
He promised.
Crying makes you weak. Makes people yell.
His nails press into his scalp as his head spins.
It feels even colder now, like the air’s pressing in.
Like the silence wants to swallow him.
Why’s he still here?
Why’s he still breathing?
He should’ve just-
“Mew.”
It’s softer this time. Almost like a whisper.
He jerks up. Eyes wide. Searching.
There.
Sitting a few feet away. Still. Quiet.
Not curled up. Not leaving.
Just…watching.
The bulb above flickers again. Light pools around the kitten’s fur, soft brown and matted in places. Its eyes catch his, steady and unreadable.
Kevin doesn’t move. His hands twitch, but he doesn’t reach.
It’s still here.
Even though he shoved it.
Even though he hurt it.
The air feels different now-still heavy, still cold-but less like it’s closing in. More like it’s waiting.
He leans forward, face hidden in his arms, shoulders trembling.
Maybe it’ll stay longer.
Maybe he doesn’t have to be alone. Not yet.
A gust of wind whistles through the cracked siding, stirring dust in slow spirals. The shadows shift and stretch across the floor. But in the middle of it all, the kitten stays.
Still watching.
Still here.
It’s freezing.
The kind that makes your fingers stop working right.
But Kevin doesn’t leave.
He doesn’t want to.
He should just stay.
Let the cold take him.
Wouldn’t be so bad.
He lost it.
The blanket’s gone.
So is his bag.
Tattered clothes scattered in the slush like garbage.
They found his hiding spot while he was away.
Guess it didn’t matter.
He didn’t have the energy to care.
Not enough left in him to get mad.
Or go looking.
Now he’s here. In the snow. Sitting on broken concrete. Back pressed against the side of an old building that smells like rot and something burnt.
He doesn’t care.
He can’t will himself to find another place or dig through trash for stuff that might still be there.
He just wants to sit.
Let the cold bite deeper.
Let his skin go numb.
His fingers twitch.
The kitten never came back.
Not after that day.
He’d waited. Every time he found a new spot, he’d wait.
Maybe it found a real home.
One with food. With heat.
That’s good.
It should have that.
A wind cuts through his sweater-what’s left of it-making his shoulders hunch.
Snowflakes drift past his lashes.
He blinks snow.
Maybe he’ll get his wish.
And then he can see his-
“Mew! Mew mew mew!”
His eyes lift, slow and unsure.
Did…did he make that up?
No.
There.
Right in front of him. Bouncing like a spring.
The kitten.
It mews louder, spinning in fast little circles, batting at the snow with both paws like it’s never seen it before. It hops back on its hind legs, then skitters toward him, paws slapping wet slush as it charges straight for his feet.
It starts pawing at the edges of his shoes-or what’s left of them. The soles flap. One’s got a hole where his sock pokes though. He’ll have to toss them soon. If they don’t fall apart first.
Another gust of wind rushes past. It stings his ears and nose, makes his breath puff white.
He shivers so hard his teeth knock together.
Why?
Why does the kitten keep showing up like this?
Why come back-only to vanish again?
It was summer last time.
Warm.
Everything green.
Now it’s snowing.
Does it even matter?
He already told it.
Told the kitten he had nothing.
No food.
No blanket.
No real home.
It probably just wandered back by accident.
That’s all.
Still…
Still, it’s nice.
To see it one more time.
Before he…before he-
No.
He doesn’t want it to see him like this.
“Please…” His voices cracks, barely louder than the wind. “Go away…”
He watches it chase a flake, tiny paws flopping, tail flicking behind it like a warm. It’s so small.
Maybe too small.
Was it born wrong?
Abandoned by its family too?
He curls in tighter, arms around his knees.
The snow lands on his back like little pinpricks.
“Live on,” he whispers.
Even if he can’t.
He wants it to.
Claws hook into his thigh.
“Ah-Ow! Get off!”
It’s climbing him again. Always does that.
Doesn’t it know it hurts?
His skin’s too cold. Too thin.
He grabs it-gently this time-trying to pull it off, but it clings harder.
Like it’s scared he’ll toss it.
He groans. “Fine, I get it, sheesh…”
This time, he pulls it free slow. Careful.
Presses it to his chest.
It’s so warm.
So soft.
Its little motor starts right away-purring so loud it shakes his ribs.
Then it nips at his shirt. A tiny mew.
It’s hungry.
“Shh, shh… I can’t feed you,” he says. “But I’ll keep you warm.”
It’s all he can do.
All he has left to offer.
But if he’s gonna do that…he can’t stay here.
Not out in the open. Not in the snow.
He looks around.
Everything’s gray and white and endless.
But-
“We’ll have to wait,” he murmurs. “Can you…can you hold on a while longer?”
The warehouses are safest around lunch.
People leave around then.
Abandoned houses?
Already claimed by older scavengers.
He’ll wait.
Then move fast.
Once night hits, it’ll be too cold.
Even for him.
The kitten snuggles in tighter, shoving its head under his chin. Its purring gets louder.
Like it’s saying okay.
Kevin exhales, his breath warm against its fur.
He’ll try.
For this weird, tiny kitten-
He’ll try.