Chapter Text
Klein was convinced that Merlin Hermes' arrival was the universe's way of bringing equilibrium to Klein's life and his entourage of cats. Now, he had one of each personality.
Sherlock was the cautious yet mischievous one.
Gehrman was the cold and reserved.
Dwayne, calm and polite.
Mr. Fool: aloof but gentle.
Merlin, the outlier, threw caution to the wind, warmed up to all who approached, meowed when asked a question and meowed when asking for attention, and had a difficult time withholding his excitement.
Within a week, Merlin made friends with every single one of Klein's cats. Whether or not they were willing, he didn't pay any mind. He would rub up against a hissing Gehrman, apprehension nowhere to be found. He would walk up to Dwayne and Sherlock grooming each other's fur and snuggle right up against them, asking to be cleaned in turn, and he would be found grooming the sleeping Mr. Fool, a responsibility that was shared by all.
Within a week, Klein had scratch marks on his back for how many times Merlin jumped on him while he was mopping. Though, the latter would make up for it—cuddling and rubbing against the side of Klein's face, purring like a storm.
Merlin was too cute for Klein to get mad at.
With five cats—five mouths to feed—five living beings that Klein had to take care of, strangely, he wasn't as worn out or worried as he thought he'd be. Not when, on the weekends, boxes would be delivered by nameless senders. They'd be full of cat food, toys, litter—even two cat trees, one time, and whenever his regulars came over for a coffee or his friends visited for a few rounds of mahjong or karaoke, they would react with surprise.
Thing was, they were horrible at playing dumb.
"Huh. I thought that cat tree would be taller like the picture."
"What?"
"What?"
"How are you doing on cat food?"
"I think I should be good for another two weeks. I'll go grocery shopping soon—"
"Don't go grocery shopping."
"Why?"
"What's your zodiac sign? The forecast said that Aquarius' will encounter a horrible incident if they go outside next week."
"…I'm a Pisces."
"…"
"…"
Out of the five cats, only one of them didn't mind water: Mr. Fool, the angel. However, on the other hand, the rest approached bath day with a range of resignation to misery.
Headband on. Rolled up sleeves. Klein pulled in his first victim.
Sherlock meowed loud and sharp, trying to wriggle his way out of Klein's grasp, until he surrendered to the soap and water, his fur wet and doused over his head.
Gehrman hissed, batting at the water as if it was the guilty one, but when he would turn on Klein with his paws and mouth, no fangs nor claws accompanied him. All bark—no bite. Although Gehrman was definitely the most aggressive of his cats (and that was by a long-shot), Klein had never received a scratch from him—unlike some people.
Dwayne was a little more tolerant, and silently, Klein sent out a thanks to the faraway Ms. Smyrin. He meowed quietly in complaint, but he let the hands wash him without a struggle. Although, by the end of it, Klein couldn't help but compare Dwayne to a drowned rat, seeing at how long and drenched the latter's fur was. As if sensing that thought, Dwayne turned to Klein. Although his fur completely covered his eyes, Klein clearly sensed the gaze. He coughed.
Lastly was the one who needed the bath the most: Merlin. Getting him into the water was the hardest part, given that the moment Klein hovered him above it, he bent all of his legs to try to avoid the surface. The process after was smoother. Klein's hands scrubbed him down until he was surrounded by clouds of bubbles to the point where Merlin couldn't stop sneezing. Klein counted six in a row, once.
After drying them all, Klein threw them all back into the living room. Looking at himself in the mirror—soap in his hair, clothes completely soaked, weariness on his face—he turned to see Mr. Fool sitting on the bathroom counter.
Silently, they stared at each other.
"I really don't look forward to doing this all again in a month," Klein said.
Mr. Fool blinked, leaned forward, and meowed.
A wet nose sniffed at Klein's ear.
Grumbling on his side, Klein peeled open his eyes, lifted his head off of the pillow, and stared straight into Merlin's face.
Sherlock, curled up in Klein's arm, perked up, emitting a nasal sound.
Merlin blinked, letting out a chirp. He leaned forward to rub against Klein's cheek, purring like a car engine to have the latter reach out to scratch his face. Unsurprisingly, Klein caved.
Merlin soon turned onto his back, wriggling like a worm, allowing Klein's hand to rub his white-furred belly.
Yawning, Klein swept a languid gaze through the bedroom, bathed in a breath of summer sun. On the corner of the bed, Gehrman sat perched, his eyes pinned to the hallway in search of danger. Dwayne, on the other hand, remained snuggled up in his own cushioned cat bed, stationed right under the cat tree whose highest platform hosted one sleeping black cat, Mr. Fool.
A quick glance at his phone told him that it was noon. Fors, being the night-owl that she was, scheduled the signing event to be Friday mid-afternoon, so for first time in a long time, Klein woke up six hours later at the end of the week.
It seemed that since Klein slept in, everyone else decided they should too.
Eventually, two human feet descended the stairway. Soon after, in no particular order or pace, five pairs of four paws followed him down.
At the back of the café, two tables that had been pushed together and two cardboard boxes of freshly-minted books awaited. Decorations sprinkled about the walls; some dangled down from the ceiling. The night before, Fors and Xio had come by to set up the book-themed posters and ornaments, custom-made symbols that oddly resembled those of cults.
As Klein began to double-check inventory, Sherlock zoomed through the room, Merlin sprinting after his tail. They weaved in a dance. Ultimately, Merlin managed to pounce on Sherlock, sending them playfully wrestling on the floor.
A rare instance found Mr. Fool on low ground. He padded through the café, pausing as Merlin and Sherlock blitzed past him, and only offered a slow blink as they did. Right on his trail, Gehrman stopped by Mr. Fool's side—his expression stoic.
A nearby meow caught Klein's attention, drawing it downward.
At his feet, Dwayne stared up at him with his bright blue eyes. He extended a paw, tapping Klein's shoe.
Smiling subconsciously, Klein took one look around before he sneakily slipped him a dry treat.
A quarter past one, a small line of people began to form outside. Klein tried to pay less mind to their curious peers inside, continuing his preparations and ensuring everything was where it was supposed to be, but a few glances outside told him he recognized more people than he had expected to.
Eventually, a frantic knocking sounded at the door.
Once kneeling below the counter, Klein popped his head up and glanced at the cafe entrance where his eyes instantly locked onto Fors and Xio through the glass. The former was hurriedly fixing her hair; the latter lifted her hand in a greeting wave.
"Sorry we're late!" Fors laughed nervously once Klein opened the door and stepped past for them to walk through.
A short high-pitched meow greeted them.
With short legs, Dwayne bounded over, welcoming them with another polite meow and a rub against each of their legs. Upon Xio reaching down, Dwayne perched on his hindlegs to bump against her hand.
"You mean you were late," Xio jabbed at Fors, smiling.
Fors flinched. She glanced away and muttered, "I kind of slept in…" Her eyes darted toward Dwayne, and she reached out to pet him but couldn't manage to do so before the ragdoll turned on his paws and walked away towards the litter box, his tail fluffed up high like a feather.
It's almost two… What kind of sleep schedule do you have? Klein lampooned inwardly before reassuring aloud, "That's alright. We did most of our preparations yesterday anyway."
Xio looked around. "Derrick's still in school?" she asked, a hand rested on her hip.
"Yes, but he'll be here to help later," Klein answered, checking his phone for the time. He lifted his gaze and smiled. "Why don't you two get set up at the table in the back?"
"Sounds great," Fors said. With a brief exchange of looks with Xio, she added with a returning smile, "We'll be good to go in five."
The first two customers, Klein didn't expect.
"Good afternoon, Sharron. Maric." Klein blinked wide, his gaze bouncing between his two recently-made and named regulars. According to his stereotypical assumptions, he didn't think they were the type to read Fors Wall's novels, let alone wait to attend her book signing. "Are you two here for the signing?"
Sharron's blank look didn't waver. "No."
Maric paid with his card.
Upon receiving their plain black coffees, they moved to sit at a distant table relatively farther away from the heart of the chatter. From his pocket, Maric pulled out a deck of cards. He dealt himself and Sharron a hand.
As Klein kept them in the corner of both his eye and attention, something—or rather, someone made him pause.
Eyes upright, tail in tandem, Sherlock—with a small detective's hat on his head and a cape buttoned around his neck—jumped up to the empty seat at Sharron and Maric's table, blinking curiously at the distributed cards before he leaned down to sniff at them.
Wordlessly, Maric dealt him a hand too.
Lips curling in a smile, Klein turned his attention back to the next customer, opening his mouth to begin warmly, "Hello, what can I get for—"
The words froze in his throat.
A familiar figure reflected in Klein's twitching eyes as the latter paused, swallowed dryly, and asked with a careful tone,
"…Amon, you've read Fors Wall's novels?"
Standing on the other side of the counter with a languid stance and smiling with his dark eyes, Amon—his strange neighbor from a few stores down—pinched his monocle, hummed, and answered, "Occasionally. Her new book's protagonist is my favorite so far. His cautious, polite personality interests me greatly, and I can only wonder what strings he will pull to get what he wants."
Klein's lips strained. Shouldn't you be telling the author this instead of me? I haven't even read it.
"By the way, where is Mr. Fool?" Amon asked, a mirthful touch to his wandering gaze.
It was a rhetoric question. There had been numerous times when Amon would waltz in, pay for nothing, and search for Mr. Fool—who, of course, was in the same place a great deal of the time.
Mr. Fool was… not a fan of Amon. It was likely due to the latter's strange obsession with him alongside his very overzealous grabbing and petting. None of the other cats were very fond either, often reacting to him with a range of fear to aggression. Sherlock would run off. Dwayne would too. Gehrman would do a mix of running and hissing, a hit-and-run kind of style. Merlin was a slight exception—the only one who would approach him without a bribe, and even then, there would be a subtle apprehension alight in the air.
Directing Amon toward the cat tree, Klein sighed inwardly, quietly reminding himself that he needed to charge him one of these days. Telepathically, he felt Mr. Fool's judgment rolling in.
Hopefully this time, Klein wouldn't need to tell Amon off from trying to climb the cat tree—or from trying to steal it.
Klein's gaze followed Amon away, a frown wearing into his mouth the moment the latter wasn't looking. Letting out a breath of relief, he turned forward to the next customer.
At the sight of them, Klein froze again.
"Mr. Azik?"
Across the counter, Azik stood with a soft, gentle smile. "Good afternoon, Klein."
From their many conversations, Klein knew that Azik had no lectures on Friday, thus explained his casual attire. Gone were his usually suit and coat. Instead, he wore a thin black turtleneck and dark gray pants. Just looking at his outfit made Klein sweat because of the summer weather.
Thoughts rerouting back home, Klein blinked wide. "You're a fan of Fors Wall's novels?" he asked, because although he had no lectures, that didn't save Azik from his pile of to-be-marked papers, pointless zoom meetings, and countless emails from students asking for extra credit.
Azik laughed lightly, shaking his head, as he admitted, "Well, I haven't yet had the pleasure to read one. I simply wanted to come support you."
"Oh—" Klein flushed, lips pursing briefly, before he replied with a sheepish smile, "Thank you, Mr. Azik." A warm feeling settled in his chest. Refocusing on the present now, he cleared his throat and asked, "Would you like your regular order?"
"Please and thank you," Azik said. He looked down to reach inside his bag before he stopped, eyes pinned to a focal point on the floor.
Seeing this, Klein's brows furrowed. A question hanging on his tongue, he watched Azik kneel down, pick something up, and rise with an entire cat in his arms.
With a top hat clipped to the top of his head, Dwayne blinked up at Azik.
Azik scratched underneath Dwayne's chin, eliciting a loud rumbling purr. "He's quite dressed for the occasion." Upon him pulling his hand away, Dwayne showed his dissatisfaction by meowing and rubbing his head against his chest.
"I ordered a few cat outfits online," Klein answered the unsaid question. "I thought it'd be cute…" His eyes glanced away as he muttered inwardly, Though, I'm not surprised that Gehrman ripped his off.
Speaking of Gehrman…
"Hey. Hey, Gehrman! Sps, sps! Over here!"
"I'm telling you that he doesn't like you."
"He doesn't even like you either!"
"I'm not the one he gave rabies to."
"The owner said he got his shots!"
Twelve orders later into the queue, Klein only managed a brief glance past the espresso machine to see Danitz and Anderson—the two blond men Klein had met a few weeks back— kneeling on the ground, holding a treat in their head, and attempting to beckon over Gehrman who was three strides' worth away.
How many people are actually here for the book signing? Klein lampooned, drawing his gaze away to see a red-scarfed, witch-hatted Merlin leap nearly six feet into the air to climb onto Leonard's shoulder, pressing his flank against the side of the latter's head, and meowing for a snack.
Klein clicked his tongue silently. Glancing over at the book booth, he expected Fors' face to be a little annoyed, exasperated, impatiently, and definitely not content.
Because that was exactly what it was.
Because both the author and her line-up of readers were completely enamored with Mr. Fool, a black hat between his ears and a tie roped around his neck, who was lying on the table and also grooming himself with not a single worry in the world.
Klein stopped.
Why am I the only one working?
Klein didn't think he would've made it to his bed without a few helping hands.
"Get some rest," Azik had encouraged, gently guiding him upstairs. He chuckled. "You look like you could use a whole twenty-four hours."
It wasn't the first time that Azik and a few of Klein's lingering friends closed up shop for him as he trudged his way upstairs after a long day. He didn't bother with his bed—let alone his shower. He dropped against the hallway floor, relief soaking into his bones from unloading his feet, and sat there for what felt like eternity.
However, as much as he wanted to near eternity, there were protests against it.
Merlin chirped at him in concern, putting his paws on Klein's thigh, pushing himself up to get closer to his face. Gehrman settled him with a disapproving look. Mr. Fool was waiting in the doorway of the bedroom, half-turned and patient.
Klein let loose a heavy sigh. Grunting, he slowly rose from the cold comforting floor and dragged his way into the bedroom, to his bed, and back first onto the blankets.
Under his arm, Sherlock snuggled in close, wiggling into the most comfortable position. Merlin bounded over to Klein's neck, burying his face there. A light weight dropped onto Klein's leg; it was Dwayne. Mr. Fool was lying on the pillow by Klein's head, licking at the latter's locks in an attempt to groom it, and Klein didn't have to open his eyes to know Gehrman was at his usual spot at the corner of the bed.
Sinking into the sheets and darkness, simmering into the sources of heat cuddled up against him, Klein couldn't help but sigh out deep and slow, bleeding out tension and breathing in relief.
They were right.
The bed was much better.
Recently and rarely, the alarm never posed a chance in waking up Klein.
Instead, it was always—
It hurts!
I can't breathe!
There’s something on my chest!
Peeling open his eyes, it wasn't the morning light nor the white of his ceiling that greeted Klein but the sight of a round furry creature.
Klein looked up at Gehrman.
Gehrman looked at Klein.
Their stand-off only broke the moment Klein made to get up. Dragging himself out of bed and sliding on his slippers, he habitually caught himself as Merlin zoomed between his ankles, meowing his greetings loud and high-pitched.
From the living room, Klein grabbed the five food bowls on the floor. He washed them clean, dried them, filled two with wet food, and slid the remaining three under the automatic dispensers just before they went off.
The clatter of cat food beckoned over a rush of company.
Merlin slipped through Klein's legs. Sherlock leaped off of the living room cat tree. Dwayne came soon after.
Without the need of prompting, Klein turned on his heel and returned to the bedroom, Gehrman trailing after him. They walked through the hallway drenched in dawn daylight and lifted with the brief morning coolness, slow paced but purposeful.
In the corner of the bedroom stood a large gray cat tree. At the highest platform, one tall enough to tease the ceiling, a fluffy black tail dangled motionless over its edge, and just as Klein's feet took him close, his hand reached up and far to smooth over the sleeping bundle of fur. With a sleepy trill, a head perked up from the void, turning over to meet Klein's eyes with its own gold.
Klein smiled gently.
"Good morning, Mr. Fool."