The first sign something was wrong was the way Sylus looked at you when you knocked a glass off the kitchen counter. Not angry. You sat frozen on the marble island, tiny paws tucked beneath your chest, ears angled back as the shattered glass sparkled across the floor.

Sylus leaned against the doorway in silence, eyes narrowed. "You did that on purpose.” You blinked at him innocently. A soft, accusing meow escaped your throat.

His expression flattened further. “That’s exactly the look you give me when you’re lying.” He stepped closer. You immediately darted away.

“Kitten.” Too late. You slipped beneath the couch before he could grab you, tail puffed in offense. Sylus crouched slowly, staring into the shadows where your glowing eyes reflected back at him.

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered. “You’ve been a cat for less than twenty-four hours and you already rule the apartment.” You answered with another judgmental meow.

He sighed deeply and rubbed a hand down his face. The transformation itself had apparently been caused by “an unstable protocore reaction,” according to Xavier over the phone earlier that morning. Meaning: nobody knew how long this would last.

Sylus had not taken the news well. Especially after discovering you still had your full personality. Just compressed into six pounds of fur, claws, and terrible behavior.

At first, he’d tried to be patient. That patience died around the time you shoved his phone into the bathtub. “You looked me dead in the eyes before doing it,” he’d said.

You had no defense for that one. Now the apartment was in ruins. Curtains ruined. Plants knocked over. One very expensive suit covered in white fur. And somehow, despite all of it, Sylus still couldn’t stop staring at you like you were the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Which was infuriating. You crept out from beneath the couch carefully, tail flicking. The moment you emerged, Sylus reached forward and scooped you up in one smooth motion.

Betrayal. You wriggled instantly. “Stop squirming.” You squirmed harder. “Kitten.” He held you securely against his chest while you twisted dramatically in protest, tiny paws pressing against his shoulder.

“You’re impossible.” A low purr accidentally rumbled from your throat. Sylus went very still. You froze too. Slowly, he looked down at you with the faintest hint of victory in his eyes.

“Was that a purr?” No. Absolutely not. You refused to acknowledge it and turned your head away with dignity. His mouth twitched.

“You like being held.” You did not. Another purr betrayed you. Sylus actually laughed then, quiet, warm, rare enough that it made your chest ache even in this ridiculous form.

“There you are,” he murmured softly. The sound made your ears twitch. His fingers slid gently through your fur, scratching lightly. Your entire body relaxed against your will.

Traitor. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “this explains a lot.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “The attitude. The need for attention. Random acts of destruction.” You smacked his cheek with one paw.

Sylus caught your tiny paw easily, amusement flashing across his face. “And violence.” He carried you toward the couch and sat down, keeping you curled against his chest despite your weak attempts at resistance.

Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows. Inside, the apartment glowed gold in the dim evening light. For a while, neither of you moved. Then quietly, almost too quietly, Sylus pressed a kiss between your ears.

His voice dropped into something gentler. “You’d better turn back soon.” Your ears twitched. His hand continued stroking slowly down your back. “Because if you stay like this much longer,” he murmured, “I’m going to get used to carrying you everywhere.”

You looked up at him. The teasing expression had faded. Now he just looked tired. Relieved. Soft in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. Your tiny paw lifted instinctively, resting against his chest. Sylus stared at it for a second before covering it carefully with his hand. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I missed you too, kitten.”