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Hitoshi loves his cat. He really does, honest. She’s adorable, tiny, beautiful. She was the runt or her litter but what she lacks in size, she makes up for in personality. She steals things, demands attention, will curl up in Hitoshi’s lap as he is editing photos, everything. She also really loves eating at the same time he and Shouto do which, in all honesty, is so cute. Her favourite perch is Hitoshi’s head or shoulders and she really doesn’t mind hanging out in Shouto’s (stolen) hoodie pockets.
All in all, Marshmallow is a phenomenal little being and Hitoshi loves her very much.
But he made a serious mistake letting her get access to the Christmas decorations.
He and Shouto had got back from shopping no less than five minutes ago. They had dropped the bags down on the floor and headed to the kitchen for something hot to drink because it is freezing outside. Hitoshi had held Shouto’s cold hands in his as they waited for the kettle, making him blush when he jokingly licked at one of them, and everything was fine. Everything was perfectly fine.
But then a soft jingling sound began to come from the living room, which brings us to the present.
Shouto blinks in surprise and peeks around Hitoshi, still a little too short to properly look over his shoulder, interrupting himself mid sentence. Hitoshi’s train of thought is entirely derailed and he turns his head to look at whatever Shouto has started squinting at. He doesn’t see anything in the little bit of the living room he can see from where they’re standing, but he can still hear the soft jingling sound. It hasn’t stopped, sporadically coming and going but never truly falling silent. What in the name of…
“What is going on?” Shouto’s forehead creases faintly as his eyebrows knit together.
Hitoshi, on autopilot, kisses his forehead right where the wrinkles appeared before pulling back once more and looking behind them. “I’m not sure. Is this place haunted?”
“Please don’t joke like that.” Shouto huffs, cheeks dusted prettily with pink, “Just because you found the supposed hauntings of the various murder closets was funny doesn’t mean I did.”
“You thought it was funny until I bought that spirit box and we heard a voice.” Hitoshi points out.
Shouto frowns and gives him a little shove.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” Hitoshi faces him fully again, “It was actually really cute how you clung to me.”
Shouto’s ears burn this time and Hitoshi is never going to get tired of seeing it happen. “Let’s just figure out what that sound is.”
“One of us should watch the tea.” Hitoshi points out. “I’ll go.”
“No, no, it’s alright. I’ll go.” Shouto says, patting Hitoshi’s chest once before slipping around him and walking out of the kitchen. Hitoshi watches him go before turning back to the kettle, watching and waiting for it to boil fully.
And everything seems peaceful.
But then there’s a yelp and a meow and a startles ‘MARSHMALLOW’ and the the jingling increases a hundred fold. Hitoshi turns around, confused and a little startled, and he looks in the direction the noise came from. He doesn’t see anything for a moment, but he does hear the scrambling of little paws on wood floor (and many loud jingles), before Shouto comes racing around the corner.
“Shou?” Hitoshi frowns, concerned.
Shouto looks a little out of breath. “Marshmallow has that wristband with the jingle bells on it.”
“She… she what?” Hitoshi blinks, “We bought that?”
“I snuck it in when you were focused on paying.” Shouto says, “And I’m regretting it now.”
Marshmallow scrambles across the kitchen floor, leaping over Hitoshi’s feet, and he finally sees that shouto is telling the truth. Firmly clamped in her mouth is a brilliant red band with five or six golden bells on it. The bells are cheaply made, making them sound like someone is rattling some particularly small tin cans, and Hitoshi sighs.
Upon realizing that the kitchen is a dead end, Marshmallow turns and jumps up onto the counter. Then, in an even more impressive leap, she jumps from the counter, over empty space, and up onto the top of the fridge. From there, she backs herself into a corner, out of sight and out of reach. Hitoshi just stares, sighing heavily as the jingling increases. He assumes Marshmallow is playing with the wristband, batting it around like it’s a toy.
Shouto walks up to Hitoshi and tucks himself into his side. Hitoshi’s arm comes up and rests around Shouto’s waist out of habit, and the two of them stare at where Marshmallow had clambered up onto the fridge.
Not thirty seconds later, the wristband comes skittering forward and then falls off the front of the fridge, tumbling to the floor with a loud and almost painful clatter. Marshmallow skids to a stop at the edge of the fridge and stares down with wide eyes at her fallen toy, disbelief in her fluffy little face. Her pupils are blown wide, so wide in fact that her eyes almost look entirely black.
Hitoshi shakes his head with a fond smile and bends down to grab the wristband. He holds it up so Marshmallow can see it, and he says, “Lose something?”
Shouto huffs a small laugh, “Toshi…”
“Think we should give it back to her?” Hitoshi asks, leaning his head on Shouto’s.
“Toss it onto the couch.” Shouto says, “I want to see what she does.”
Hitoshi nods and tosses the wristband toward the couch. Marshmallow is after it like a shot, eyes locked onto it like it’s her prey. She leaps from the top of the fridge to the counter across from it, then onto the dining table. Then she jumps down to the floor and scrambles toward the couch. She hops up onto the couch and stares the wristband down.
And then she pounces on it and the apartment is filled with an orchestra of jingles as the wristband seemingly begs for it’s life.
“Well.” Hitoshi stares at her.
“That’s certainly something.” Shouto says, leaning his head on Hitoshi’s chest, still watching the little floof on the couch as she mangles her prey.
“It certainly is.” Hitoshi agrees.
————————————
It’s about four in the morning when the jingling starts again.
At first, Hitoshi tries to ignore it, pressing his face into Shouto’s hair and thinking about anything but the jingling from the other room. He thinks about his siblings, about Shouto, hell he even thinks about school. Anything that could help him ignore the infernal jingling he is being barriaged with.
But eventually it becomes too annoying to ignore and Shouto kinda goes ‘hrmph’ into his chest, clearly doing what Hitoshi had just been doing.
With a sigh, Hitoshi presses a kiss to Shouto’s hairline and murmurs, “I’m going to take it away from her.”
When he starts to get up, Shouto blinks his eyes open sleepily and watches him go, not saying a word. He probably isn’t even conscious by any means.
Hitoshi yawns as he pads into the living room. Once there, he immediately spots Marshmallow. She’s got the wristband on the floor and she’s playing with it rather intently, sending it up into the air before it comes crashing down, jingling menacingly, and then she’s charging it again. It all seems like fun, if you’re a cat, and Hitoshi vows to get her a toy that’s similar to the wristband but that makes less noise. And until then, he’ll let her play with the wristband but only during the day.
He snatches it up fairly easily and walks over to the kitchen. He drops it into the cutlery drawer and then pushes it shut. Marshmallow sits down on the floor and stares up at him, the picture of innocence.
And, because he’s never been able to resist, Hitoshi bends down and starts scratching her behind the ear, right where she likes it. She mews, pleased, and leans into his hand, one paw coming up to touch his wrist affectionately. Once he’s given her a moment or two of attention, he stands up once more and wanders toward the bedroom. Marshmallow winds her way around his ankles as he does.
When he crawls back under the covers, Marshmallow follows and curls up in the little divot she’d created where his and Shouto’s pillows meet. She’s still purring happily, and Hitoshi could almost do the same when Shouto hums and curls into his chest with a soft sigh. Hitoshi nuzzles his face into Shouto’s hair and hugs him.
They’re both asleep in no time flat, jingle bell wristband long forgotten.