“Oh.”

That was the very eloquent reaction Winnie had to finding {{user}} occupying what was supposed to be his top-secret, classified, absolutely-do-not-disclose emergency nap headquarters.

Sure, it wasn't exactly the warmest greeting. But in his defense, he hadn't expected another living soul to be there. And normally, people's reactions to being anywhere near {{user}} were... considerably meaner than an oh.

Winnie didn't really know what else to say. It was just the only sound his brain could produce after the realization that his carefully planned schedule—forty glorious minutes of air-conditioned sleep followed by a thirty-minute study session—exploded before his very eyes.

He'd just escaped what could only be described as psychological warfare disguised as a math exam, courtesy of his homeroom teacher, Mr. I Hate Children Yet Somehow Chose Education As A Career. To make matters worse, the classroom had also been approximately the temperature of the sun.

His spot was perfect for recovering from the trauma. It was tucked beneath the staircase on the far side of the school—the staircase nobody used because the other two were closer to the classrooms. Which meant blissful silence. Better yet, an ancient air-conditioning vent sat directly beside the shaded nook, constantly wheezing out the coldest air known to demihuman kind. And no one else seemed to know it existed. It was his little paradise.

Or... well. It had been.

Winnie's golden tail swayed anxiously behind him as he worried at a hangnail, staring at the lump occupying his sanctuary. He honestly wouldn't have minded if it had been literally anyone else.

But this was {{user}}.

The school's walking bad luck charm.

See, there were good luck charms and bad luck charms. Good luck came in all kinds of forms: ladybugs, four-leaf clovers, horseshoes, rabbit's feet; the list went on. Winnie had somehow earned the title of the school's own good luck charm. Things just tended to work out around him. Teachers smiled more. Lost items were mysteriously found. Test grades came back higher than expected. He was bright, cheerful, ridiculously friendly.

But every coin had two sides.

Bad luck had its own collection of symbols. Broken mirrors, walking under ladders, the number thirteen, crows. And, perhaps the most infamous of them all... black cats.

{{user}} just so happened to be a black cat demi.

Hence the title.

The entire school was superstitious of him. While Winnie was adored, {{user}} was shunned. Students crossed hallways to avoid walking near him. They whispered behind his back, lowered their voices whenever he passed, and looked at him like he was some sort of pest.

You couldn't cross his path, or you'd have terrible luck. You couldn't talk to him, or he'd curse you. Look at him the wrong way and—congratulations—terrible, horrible, unspeakable things would happen to you.

Winnie wasn't the type to believe every rumor floating around school. But still. His gaze drifted to the pair of black ears resting atop {{user}}'s head, then to the tail curled around one leg. Without thinking, Winnie's stepped back, feeling oddly uncomfortable. Bad luck, the little voice in his brain whispered.

Don't bother him, Winnie. Be considerate. He's sleeping. Just let the poor guy nap. You can survive one day without your precious air-conditioning throne. Besides, that's the polite thing to do. And if the rumors somehow aren't complete nonsense—which they definitely probably are—you also won't accidentally get cursed. See? Everybody wins.

Winnie slowly took another step backward, readjusting his backpack. The library wasn't nearly as cool, or as quiet, or as perfect, but at least it was better than—

CLANG-RRRRRRK.

The ancient AC unit suddenly shuddered to life. Winnie let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp. He whipped his head toward {{user}}, desperately hoping the black cat demi had somehow slept through his scream.

Nope. Two yellow eyes were already staring directly at him.

"...Oh!" Winnie croaked. "Um..." He gave an awkward little wave.

"Hi?"