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The cat was sitting on the bench when you came along. You almost didn’t notice it through your tears. You hesitate for a moment. You wanted to be alone, so no one would see you like this, but you finally sit. You like cats, after all. It was odd looking one; black with a strange, fluffy tail and when it opens its eyes to look at you, you see they’re red.
“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you,” you say, not knowing why, as you attempt to dry your cheeks. There’s something intelligent in the way the cat is staring at you. It’s a good distraction, to keep your mind off the voice in your head that says you’re wrong. You reach into your bag. You never got a chance to eat the yogurt you brought along today. Opening the container, you slide it over to the cat. “It’s not milk but you can have it.”
The cat sniffs the yogurt then begins to lick it up. You smile. This is helping. The desire to hurt yourself, the thought that you deserve it, is still there but watching the cat happily eat the yogurt is… soothing. Carefully, you reach out and stroke the cat’s head. It doesn’t run or back away and you sigh.
“Oh, you’re a good cat. I’m glad you’re here.” A shuddering breath leaves you as you pet the cat. The sun is going down and you should leave but you don’t want to. The cat sticks its head into the yogurt container, trying to reach the last bits. It gives its paw a lick, watching you, before scooting closer and resting its head on your leg. “I don’t have anything else to give you, sorry.”
You sit there, watching the sun set and petting the cat until it’s dark and the street lights flicker on, when suddenly you don’t feel the cat next to you anymore. You tense as your heart jumps into your throat.
“This is such a pain…”
It takes you a second to build up the courage to glance over. Sitting next to you is a young man with a resigned look on his face, pale hair, and red eyes. Your brain is struggling to comprehend it but it’s clear he is the cat. Despite the fact the words don’t seem to be directed at you, your lip trembles.
“Yeah,” you say. “It is.”
A pain that this voice of self-loathing won’t quiet, that instead it leaves you with constant reminders that you gave into the urge to hurt yourself. You pull on your sleeves. A cat couldn’t comment on the marks on your arms but a person could.
“Huh? Oh. Not you.” He looks at you awkwardly, one finger scratching at his cheek. “He’s late.”
You say nothing, not sure what to say to a person who was a cat just moments ago.
“Thanks for the food.”
That gets a smile from you.
“You’re welcome. It was either the yogurt or the chips.”
“You have chips?” The question sounds almost bored but he turns towards you.
“Yeah, here.” It takes you a second to dig them out. “You can have them.”
He doesn’t take the bag from you, not at first. You stiffen when his fingers wrap around your wrist, turning your arm to examine it. Instinct tells you to pull away – he’s a stranger and you hate the look people get when they realize – but he says nothing. Letting go, he takes the bag of chips and opens it with a sigh.
“I’m not good at this,” he tells you. Before you can ask what ‘this’ is, he continues. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry.”
“Hm.” The two of you fall silent, the only sound the crunching of potato chips. He doesn’t believe you, that much you can tell, and you don’t blame him. “Why do you do that?”
There’s no need to ask him what he means.
“Sometimes… I feel like things are my fault. Not even things, I just feel—”
“Wrong?” he offers when you hesitate.
“That sounds right. Do you feel that way?”
“Ah.” He looks down at the bag of chips and then leans back. “Well, I am a vampire.”
You think about the cat on the bench and how the man didn’t appear until the sun was down. It made sense, in a strange way.
“Is that what makes you feel wrong?” you ask.
Another sigh from your new acquaintance.
“I think being a monster is wrong.”
There’s a sharp pang in your chest. It makes you sad that someone who allowed a crying stranger to pet him and has been sitting here making sure you’re okay, would feel that way about himself.
Ironic, coming from you, when you feel the same.
“I don’t think you’re a monster. Monsters don’t worry about other people.”
He turns towards you, a look of surprise on his face.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
His mouth curls into a half-smile.
“You’re just saying that because I’m a cute cat.”
You can’t help but laugh.
“You are a cute cat but I mean it.”
“Mm, alright.” Shaking the bag, he scoops out the last remaining chips. “I really can’t deal but— I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. I mean, maybe it’s just your mind telling you that.”
“I… I know you’re right but that voice that keeps telling me I’m horrible and deserve to suffer? It’s so loud,” you say, feeling yourself tear up again. When you glance over at him, he’s staring into the distance with an expression that’s thoughtful and sad.
“Yeah. I get that.”
It was easier when he was a cat but you reach out and put your hand on his leg.
“Oh jeez,” he says but doesn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” you say. “It’s not a good feeling. I hate it and sometimes it’s impossible to drown out.”
Once more, he touches your arm and you feel shame when his fingers find one of the scars. You can see the wheels turning in his head.
“I see. Is that why?”
You nod.
“It makes it quieter for a bit as long as I don’t think about anything else.”
“It’s best if you just don’t do anything. Then there’s no one to disappoint, nothing to regret.”
This man – cat, vampire – is a complete stranger but you think that you understand him and more than that, you think he might understand you. Even just a little. You squeeze his leg slightly.
“That’s what you do?”
“It’s easier. Complicated things make my head hurt.”
Sniffling a little, you say, “Your way sounds a bit healthier.”
He scratches his cheek again.
“I’m not so sure. Things have changed lately. I think I want to be better.”
Something about his words hit you and you can feel the tears on your cheeks. You press the heel of your palm against your face, shoulders shaking. Next to you, he makes a concerned sound and turns to face you.
“So do I,” you finally manage to say. “I want to get better. I want that voice to go away and to stop feeling wrong.”
“Ah.” Awkwardly, he pats your head before wrapping an arm around you. There’s no hesitation this time; you hug him, face pressed into his shoulder. Part of you expects him to pull away but he doesn’t. The fur trim of his hood tickles your ear as he leans his head against yours with another sigh. “It’s a pain but if I can do it, you can. You just have to face yourself. I—learned that the hard way.”
It’s surreal, being told this by a cat-vampire that’s hugging you while you cry, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Something so strange, but so simple and real. You can do it. Maybe not all at once, but slowly you can start to face that voice inside instead of hiding it behind the pain.
“You’re right,” you say. There’s no quick fix, there never will be, but having someone understand makes you feel better. You hug him tighter for a moment and he returns it, patting your back before finally moving away. “Thanks, for everything.”
“Well, you did give me food, so I guess it’s the least I could do,” he says, mouth twitching in amusement.
“Now I’m hungry but it was totally worth it.”
“Hey, I can’t deal with people guilting me.” He punctuates the words with a teasing nudge.
You laugh. The tears are finally dry.
“Sorry.”
You’re about to say something else when another voice rings out.
“Kuro!”
“Finally. There he is.” The cat – Kuro – stands and you follow suit. To the newcomer, he says, “You’re late. I was waiting forever. I almost died.”
“Sorry, it really went longer than I thought it would! But it’s not like waiting would actually kill you, Kuro.” He seems to notice you now. “Oh, hi. I hope he wasn’t bothering you.”
“Not at all. He was great.”
“Why are you so cruel, Mahiru? They took pity on a poor, starving cat and gave me snacks.”
“Knock it off, you were fine,” says the young man named Mahiru. “Sorry about him. Let’s get going.”
“Yeah, alright.” The two of them start to walk away but Kuro pauses, holding out a hand to you. With a smile, you lightly slap his palm. “You’ll be alright.”
“Yeah, I think so.”