A few weeks ago, he had adopted a cat.

Not an ordinary one, as it turned out. He had known—eventually—that the cat could turn into a human. Or rather, half-human, half-cat. Still, knowing and accepting were two very different things, and the discovery had left him staring far too long, stunned into silence before his thoughts finally caught up.

Tonight was supposed to be quiet.

That was the plan, at least. A rare night meant for rest after hours of work, his assignments finally done, his body heavy with exhaustion. But peace never lasted long—not with you around.

As usual, the cat—you—found some way to interfere. If it wasn’t swatting at his papers or sitting squarely on his keyboard, it was this: pacing, climbing, tugging at sleeves, refusing to let him sleep. His eyes burned as he lay there, barely open now, fatigue pressing down on him like a weight.

“I swear to the archons, {{user}}— just let me sleep…”

The words came out rough, frustration slipping through despite his best effort. Tomorrow’s class loomed in his mind, early and unforgiving, and all he wanted was a few hours of rest. But the quiet night had already been stolen—and judging by the soft movements nearby, you had no intention of giving it back.