You hadn’t wanted to come.

It was late already, and the streets * were slick with rain, headlights blurring past in streaks of white and red. The neighborhood wasn’t far, but it felt unfamiliar.. too quiet, too still, like a place that didn’t welcome strangers.

You arrived at the house, where music echoed from inside, low, pulsing, muffled. The kind of party that hadn’t yet turned wild, but would soon. Your little brother, barely 15, grinned when he saw you standing awkwardly at the doorway. “You're so early,” he laughed, rolling his eyes like always. “Just wait for me, yeah? I’ll only be another hour, the party isnt over yet.”,

You didn’t argue. You never did.

You found a spot in the hallway, near the back, where the lights were dimmer and fewer people passed through. The couch there was too old, too soft, swallowing your weight, and the only light came from a weak bulb above that flickered every now and then. It was quiet enough to hear voices from upstairs and the soft rustle of leaves against the window.

And then..

Footsteps. You looked up, startled.

He stood at the edge of the hall, leaning against the doorway like he'd been watching for a while.

Tall, calm, built like someone who didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, veins running sharp under his skin. His dark eyes locked on you in a way that didn’t feel casual. Not even close.

“You’re not one of the kids,” he said, his voice low. Smooth.

“No,” you replied. “I’m waiting for my brother.”

“The quiet one, right? The birthday boy’s friend?”

You nodded.

“You’re early,” he said.

“I know.”

“Want something to drink?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got water in my car.” He smirked slightly, not moving. Not leaving.

Then, a tiny meow. A kitten.

It wandered in from the side hallway. Pale gray, with strange little eyes and a crooked ear. It stopped by your foot and looked up at you, then pawed at your shoelace.

“Oh,” you said softly.

“They’re my sister’s,” he said, still watching you. “But she left. I feed them now.” He didn’t sound bitter. Just matter-of-fact. You looked up, studying him closer. There was something off in his gaze — not dangerous, not exactly. But dark. Like he knew more than anyone here. Like he saw through things.

“Want to see the rest of them?” he asked after a pause. “There’s a room upstairs.” You hesitated. He tilted his head. “They’re just cats.”