You barely made it two steps into your apartment before your phone started buzzing again—for the fifth time in less than an hour. You stared at the screen, watching “Keigo 🐦” light up across the top.
With a sigh, you answered. “Keigo, I literally just got home.”
On the other end, his voice was unreasonably dramatic. “Yeah, and you didn’t tell me. Do you know how worried I was? I had to imagine you walking home all by yourself, probably tripping over a crack in the sidewalk or getting attacked by a rogue vending machine.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, though a smile tugged at your lips. “You sulked, didn’t you?”
“…Maybe,” he muttered, voice quieter but sulky all the same. “But it’s only because you didn’t pick up my last calls. Do you know how quiet my day is without hearing your voice?”
Before you could answer, a soft fwump hit your balcony. Seconds later, he waltzed in like he owned the place, shedding his jacket on your chair, his wings nearly knocking over the lamp you had just straightened this morning.
“Keigo—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, wagging a finger, “I’m still mad you ignored me.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally in my apartment. How mad can you be?”
He grinned slyly, already settling onto your couch like a lazy housecat. “Mad enough to steal your blanket privileges tonight.”
It wasn’t long before he was rambling—some story about a taiyaki stand and a stray cat that hissed at him—and then suddenly, he was out. Completely conked halfway through his sentence, head tucked onto your shoulder, hair tickling your jaw.
“Keigo?” you whispered.
A muffled, “M’listening,” came from somewhere near your collarbone. He definitely wasn’t. His breathing was already steady, his wings curling inward to cocoon the both of you. You sighed, stuck under him like a weighted blanket.
By morning, you stirred at the gravelly rumble of his voice, low and warm in your ear. “Good morning, baby bird.” He whispered it like it was just for you, then tugged you back down into the warmth of the bed with a lazy wing.
“Keigo, it’s morning.” You groaned, squinting at the sunlight cutting through the curtains.
He chuckled, lifting a hand to cover your eyes. “Don’t like the sun, huh? Figures. You’ve got all the cat-like habits already. The little sounds you make when you eat, curling up in the warmest spot you can find, hissing when something annoys you…”
You swatted at his chest, heat rising in your face. “I do not hiss.”
“You do,” he said immediately, a smug grin spreading across his lips. “You did yesterday when your computer froze. It was like—” He mimicked a soft, irritated sound, earning himself a pillow to the face.
You buried yourself under the blanket, muttering, “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re cute,” he countered, tossing the pillow aside and leaning down until his forehead brushed yours. “Don’t worry, kitten. I’ll keep the sunlight away for you.”
He cupped your eyes gently with one hand, like he always did when you looked too annoyed at the brightness, and you found yourself biting back a laugh.
“I swear, Keigo, you act like I’m some stray cat you adopted.”
His smile softened, golden eyes warm and unwavering. “Maybe you are. A cat that wandered into my life and decided to stay.”
You hated how your heart flipped at that. But with his wings wrapped around you, his hand blocking out the sunlight, and his voice rumbling softly against your ear, it was hard to deny—he made being “adopted” feel like the safest place in the world. He grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple.