Work Text:
A warm cup warmed his fingers. The air was filled with the bitter aroma of strong coffee. A stifled yawn escaped his mouth, a tear appeared in the corner of his eye. It was too early in the morning to spend in a warm bed under a layer of soft blanket, crumpling the pillow with his cheek. The sun was serenely creeping across the horizon, pouring pale yellow gasoline stains on the peach sky and drawing stripes on the houses.
On the table lay a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, hastily made, and a phone with an open player. Alfred adjusted the earphone in his ear. The music rhythmically tapped, scattering words to the stuck melody, but did not help wake up. Something twitched under his feet, floating like a white shaggy cloud, then stopped, leisurely waved its tail and, making big eyes full of hunger, looked straight into his soul.
- Don't look at me like that, I fed you recently, you won't fool anyone.
The coffee burned his tongue, making him wince. The cat, having paced back and forth and rubbed against his legs, disappeared somewhere under the table. Alfred sighed and looked at the dark ironed trousers covered in small white fluff. It looked like revenge.
The watch on his wrist persistently hinted that it was time to slowly shake himself out of the apartment. Since the car had been repaired at such an inopportune time, the already early rises had become many times more painful. And trips on public transport with several transfers looked like a special kind of masochism.
Alfred yawned again and stretched for breakfast, taking a step forward. His gaze darted down, catching a fluffy tail sticking out from under the table. A quick fright rolled over him like a sharp chill, but his leg had already jerked forward. With considerable effort, Alfred leaned to the side, caught on the table and almost fell to the floor.
- Damn!
The cup landed on the tabletop with a loud thud and a loud hiss. Coffee spilled on his shirt, burning his skin. Khvost managed to avoid an unkind fate. The frightened Chpul jumped out and ran off somewhere, hiding behind the doorway.
His fingers began to quickly unbutton his shirt, but at that very moment they seemed to become wooden and forgot how to get the buttons into the holes. The left earphone, as luck would have it, decided that it was high time to fall out of his ear and roll somewhere under the table. Alfred, cursing, sat down, simultaneously untangling himself from the sleeves of his shirt, and reached out to look for the missing item. His gaze focused on the earphone, and his forehead kissed the edge of the tabletop with all his might. Black spots dazzled his eyes from the pain. A delightful morning.
Alfred groaned and rubbed the bruise. It would be nice to apply something cold. Finally, the shirt he took off flew onto the chair. A large, floating coffee stain was visible on the white fabric. Shine. In the refrigerator, there was a lonely bag of frozen vegetables, the existence of which no one had remembered until recently. His forehead was throbbing, the cold was burning. A stupid table. Alfred glanced at his watch and became even more nervous. He needed to urgently find another shirt. The option of throwing a jacket over the stain and dying from the heat all day did not seem attractive.
Walking into the living room, Alfred opened the closet and began to sort through his clothes. There was nothing clean available. Having gutted half the cupboard and thrown the frozen vegetables on the coffee table, Alfred began to think quickly about a solution to the problem that had arisen. His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled sound, similar to a stifled meow. Suspiciously taking out his only earphone, Alfred stared at the open balcony door. There, hanging half his body over the partition and sticking out his fluffy white butt, was Chpul.
- Fuck, don't you dare!
Panic flashed through his head. But as soon as he moved from his place in an attempt to catch the desperate cat, nimble paws pushed off the parapet. Alfred stretched out his hands and caught the air. For a second he stood, looking at his empty palms and trying to digest the situation, and then looked down in fear, sticking out as far as possible.
- Hey, ks-ks-ks! Where are you?
There were no traces of the cat on the asphalt, it seemed like... Where did he jump? Alfred leaned even further, holding himself up dangerously in his arms. A flash of white appeared on the balcony below. Chpul was spinning on the corner of the parapet, deftly moving his paws and moving forward along the thin partition.
— You fluffy bastard, what should we do with you now?
The cat, as if in spite, jumped to the floor and disappeared from view onto someone else's balcony. Alfred howled and glanced at his watch. Okay, if he forked out for a taxi, he would buy himself more time. Should he go down and ring the doorbell to get his pet back? If his memory served him right, a hard-of-hearing old lady lived on the floor below, extremely unfriendly and grumpy, especially after the incident when Alfred accidentally flooded her. Most likely, she was still asleep and might simply not hear the doorbell. Should he leave Chpul there for a while? The old lady would probably get scared when she saw an unfamiliar animal in the house. What if she decided to harm him? Or throw him out into the street? Alfred slapped his forehead and hissed, forgetting about the bump.
Okay, don't panic. His hands grabbed the partition, trying to shake the parapet. It looked strong. Alfred examined the outer finish of the balcony, stretching in oblong beams. The distance between them was not.too big. With a great desire and no sense of self-preservation, you can go down. Decided. A quick round trip. Chpul will be home, and Alfred will go to work with a calm heart. Excellent. He leaned forward again, peering. The cat was nowhere to be seen. All that was left was to hope that the neighbor's balcony was closed and he wouldn't have to go into the apartment looking for that nasty furry ass.
Alfred had already thrown his leg over, intending to quickly deal with the problem, but then remembered that he was standing without a shirt. Probably, climbing onto someone else's balcony half-naked is not very decent. He had to go back into the apartment and pull on the first T-shirt he could find.
The process of going down was a little more difficult than it seemed at first glance. The bars were narrow, and his legs kept threatening to fall off. Uneven chips scratched his fingers, trying to cling as tightly as possible. The hardest part was getting down onto the neighboring parapet. He had to grab the edge and hang on by his hands, feeling for support with his feet. For a moment it seemed like the plan was crap, his hands were tired, and he couldn't find the parapet. The wind started to pick up, whistling in his ears. But finally his foot hit something solid. Alfred lowered himself a little lower. Okay, the mission was almost a success. Fortunately, he was tall enough to stand on the parapet without taking his hands off the upper support.
Naturally, Chpul wasn't on the balcony. The door was wide open, letting him into the living room. Alfred jumped off the parapet and winced. It was loud. He glanced inside with one eye and made sure that the owner of the apartment wasn't there, and thought that seeing the silhouette of some guy desperate about his problem in the window could probably be a very shocking sight for an elderly woman. Alfred felt like a thief, although he had come to take only his own.
— Ks-ks-ks. Come here.
No one responded. He had to go inside. Tiptoeing, Alfred walked along the light sofa, carefully peering into every crack. His gaze fell on the armchair, on top of which lay a yellow checkered blanket, and on the plump armrest — a round embroidery frame with embroidered roses. A picture of the neighboring old lady spending cozy evenings with a cup of tea and embroidery appeared in his head. This whole situation became even more uncomfortable. It was as if he was peering into someone else's life without permission. But the circumstances required it. Love for Chpul and concern for his safety and well-being are very noble reasons to act like this.
Something light appeared under the sofa.
— There you are. Let's go back quickly.
Alfred bent down, falling with his chest on the carpet, and stretched out his hand.
— Gotcha!
— Ahem-ahem.
The palm crawled further and grabbed a paw, some kind of wrong, too cold and motionless. At a closer angle, a smiling teddy bear looked at him.
— Ahem-ahem!
Alfred froze, as if going back a couple of seconds and digesting a sound that could hardly have been made by a toy. Sharply sticking his head out from under the sofa and almost throwing off his glasses, Alfred looked at the source of the noise. In the doorway, raising his wide eyebrows in confusion and crossing his arms over his chest, stood a young guy. Judging by his disheveled hair and light baggy pajamas, he had woken up not so long ago. And he clearly did not expect to see something like this in his living room. Alfred thought for a while and came to the conclusion that sitting on all fours with a teddy bear in his hands in front of a stranger was not very presentable. He slowly stood up, noticing the attentive, wary gaze on himself, sat the toy on the sofa and brushed his trousers with his palms. He needed to say something, explain himself, introduce himself for the sake of decency. Thoughts and scenarios swirled in his head in an exciting whirlwind. But when the time came to speak, all that came out was:
- You're not an old lady.
The stranger seemed to want to say something, but his mouth fell open at the last statement. Then he raised the phone in his left hand and began to quickly dial something.
- No, no! Stop! No need to call anywhere! - Alfred took a step forward, but seeing the wary reaction to his approach, he stopped and put his hands in front of him, as if demonstrating his unarmedness.
The guy frowned, his green irises flashed unkindly, a crease formed between his eyebrows. His hand froze for a moment, the phone was squeezed with force.
- Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in my apartment?
- I can explain everything!
- You have a couple of minutes and I'm calling the police.
Alfred exhaled. In principle, things were going well. The neighbor was ready for a dialogue, although he looked extremely unfriendly. All that was left was to assume a confident pose, defuse the situation, shed light on the situation and somehow win him over.
- You see, my cat decides from time to time that my life is too easy and I need some variety. I love him and all that, but it's five in the morning, and I have to go to work. Today I set the alarm ten minutes earlier than usual, which is quite a challenge. I should have had enough time for the morning routine, but life is a complicated thing. Who even came up with the idea of starting the working day so early, huh?
The guy opposite listened, periodically blinking in surprise.Or was his eye twitching? Somewhere in the middle of the monologue, he massaged his temples and interrupted:
— Stop. I can't stomach all your verbal baggage. Answer the facts.
— I'm trying.
— You're trying poorly. Where did you come from?
— From above. I came from there. — Alfred raised his index finger to the ceiling.
There was silence. The guy looked up, then looked straight into the eyes, squinting slightly, and unlocked the phone again.
— I get it. You need to call the wrong service.
— No need to call anywhere! I'm just a neighbor upstairs. Came down from the balcony!
— Your explanations don't make the situation any better.
The conversation was clearly not going well. Alfred exhaled loudly and ran his hand through his hair.
— Okay. Let's start over. I'm Alfred. — He took a step forward and extended his hand, hoping for a mutual desire to establish communication. The neighbor did not move. The awkward silence tickled his nerves unpleasantly. — Um... as I already said, I'm the neighbor upstairs.
— Let's say.
Alfred broke into a relieved smile. Well, contact has been established. They trust him.
— Excellent. So, yes, I am your neighbor, that's a fact. So, my cat jumped onto your balcony. It was awkward. I went down after him.
He looked closely at the neighbor's face, who was still sawing him with his gaze, as if looking for an evil thought. His eyes were bright, poisonous green. His head was tilted slightly to the side, fluffy light hair stuck out in all directions. He bit his lip lightly, as if thinking about something, and then spoke:
— The stairs are broken? My doorbell doesn't work? Couldn't you knock? What the fuck is your problem? What sane person would think of going down to someone else's balcony?
- Hah. Don't worry, I have experience. When I was a student, I had to climb to the fifth floor because the security guard refused to let me in after midnight. Oh, and I once climbed through a hospital window to visit my brother. But that was a long and very strange story. By the way, he didn't like it either.
The neighbor seemed to smile a little, the corners of his lips spreading to the sides. His shoulders looked less tense. What a good sign.
- Oh, and I was also sure that an old lady lived here. I was afraid that she wouldn't hear the call. And wouldn't be happy to see me anyway.
- She doesn't live here yet. Actually, I've been renting an apartment for about three months now. Apparently, you're not very attentive.
- Oh. I see.
A heavy sigh was heard. The neighbor picked up the phone again. Oh well, we seemed to be communicating normally. Alfred panicked and tried to figure out how else to bribe trust.
- Let me tell you a joke! Hmm. Do you know what a cat says to another cat when he sees that the other cat is eating from his bowl?
- No?
- Nothing! He's a cat! Cats don't talk.
Silence again, thick, like a taut string, impossible to bite through. Alfred felt his jaw clench from the frozen smile. The reaction was twisted lips and a look full of indignation.
- So you're not going to call the police?
- One more joke like that and I'll have to.
- I explained everything!
- Listen. - The guy folded his arms across his chest and winced, as if overcoming a headache. — It’s not every day that I wake up to a noise and see a guy crawling under the couch in my living room, wearing an Edward Cullen T-shirt and hugging a teddy bear. You look and sound too ridiculous to be a criminal. I see you coming home from work from time to time, and I know you live here. But that doesn’t make the situation any better. — He raised the phone to his face again. — Calm down. I wasn’t going to call anyone, I just saw the message.
A warm relief spread through his chest. A sigh escaped his lips.
— I’m glad.
— I’m glad you’re glad. Now take what you came for and get lost.
— You’re not very hospitable.
— One more word and you’ll leave the same way.
— Got it.
The guy stepped aside, inviting him to go out into the hallway. His eyes immediately darted around in search of Chpul. The wardrobe was tightly closed. There was no place to hide under the dresser. They yawned tiredly behind them.
“By the way, do you have a name?” Alfred asked, carried away by his search. After digesting what he had said, he wanted to slap himself in the face. He tried to correct himself: “I mean, of course you have one. I’d like to know it.”
“Arthur.”
“Oh, great. We’re a little closer now.”
“I hope not.”
They went to look around the kitchen, occasionally exchanging words. Arthur seemed abrupt and not very keen on feigned politeness, but he kept up the conversation and seemed interested in it. There was something curious about him.
“Ks-ks-ks. Chpul, go to Daddy.” Alfred bent down, examining the space under the table.
“Chpul?” Arthur let out a chuckle. “That sounds very… unusual.” — One day I was sitting in a coffee shop on a high bar stool, eating a cheburek, listening to music, and I saw a little kitten wandering around the street in the window. We've been together ever since.
— It's very touching, but I don't see the connection between this event and the choice of name.
— Cheburek plus a chair. Chpul came out, his name reflecting the circumstances under which we met.
Arthur looked as if he was thinking about how to comment on this, but then waved his hand and suggested continuing the search. Passing the bathroom, Alfred stopped, catching a familiar sound, a small,vibrating. His eyes sparkled, his hands quickly opened the slightly open door.
- There you are!
He snatched a warm furry body from the darkness with a disgruntled meow and pulled it to his chest.
- You furry ass, I missed you.
Something was wrong. The wrong weight, the wrong voice, the texture of the fur, but in a fit of joy the details were blurred. Arthur's expression remained clear, stern and clearly dissatisfied. His drawn eyebrows and slightly pursed nose looked disapproving.
The fluffy lump twisted and waved his paw, almost running his claws across the bridge of his nose. He got away with it. Alfred lifted the cat on his outstretched arms and took a closer look. The drooping ears and red spots on the white fur gave him away as someone who was definitely not Chpul.
- Oh, I made a mistake.
Arthur stretched out his hands and demanded to hand over the cat. Alfred's fingers briefly touched his palm. Warm. The cat settled comfortably on the stranger's chest, snuggling closer and looking displeasedly at the person who had disturbed his peace a couple of minutes ago. Angry.
- This is clearly your cat.
- Yes. And meeting you did not give him the most pleasant impressions.
- I didn't know! I'm sure I heard Chpul.
Having clicked the switch, Alfred nevertheless looked into the bathroom again. The room was not much different from his own. A shower stall, a sink, a toilet, a washing machine. Something caught his eye on the left. Towels were folded on a low counter with wooden shelves, and someone was tossing and turning among them.
- There you are! - This time, with complete confidence in the correctness of the identification, Alfred grabbed Chpul under the stomach and pulled him towards himself. - How you got on my nerves.
The cat looked at me with big mischievous eyes, turned around in his hands, sniffed my face, poked me with his wet nose, and licked me.
- So he does exist, - Arthur commented.
Alfred was indignant at such a sudden accusation.
- Of course he does! Do you still suspect me of something bad? - Alfred rubbed his cheek against the fluffy top of his head, his ears tickled pleasantly. - Chpul, apparently, found himself a girlfriend and decided to get to know her better, how cute.
- It's a boy. - Arthur put his cat on the floor, he, having turned around curiously, disappeared somewhere in the corridor.
- It's okay, I'll accept any of your preferences, you little pest, just don't run away anymore.
Chpul purred from the next caresses, vibrating like a tractor. Arthur came closer, examining the unexpected guest. He raised his hand and asked permission with his eyes alone. Alfred nodded. His fingers dug into the thick fur.
- He's so huge. What do you feed him?
- All the best!
Arthur chuckled with a slight smile and continued petting Chpul. Of course, it was hard to resist this fluffy miracle. Dimples and a slight blush appeared on his cheeks, his green eyes slightly closed, enjoying the pleasant sensations. Beautiful. Alfred caught this thought and forced himself to stop looking at Arthur. His gaze darted back and forth, the floor, Chpul, the wall, the clock. Wait, how much?
- Fuck... It seems like I was just late for work.
- You probably need to hurry.
The rest of the morning passed in the same hectic manner. Arthur saw Alfred off, generously letting him out through the door. He wanted to somehow thank his neighbor, but his words were enough for a meager, quick "thank you." On the threshold of his own apartment, he realized that the keys were still lying peacefully on the dresser inside. He wanted to howl and finally curse this morning, but the raging adrenaline and determination to go all the way prompted a bright thought that there was a girl living on the floor next door who came to feed Chpul during Alfred's business trips. And as luck would have it, he never took the spare key from her.
The cat's return to his favorite bed still took place, after which a quick search for clothes and a nervous taxi ride were made in anticipation of a reprimand from the boss. In any case, all these troubles were brightened by one new detail: Arthur's face with a slight blush and a small smile on his thin lips surfaced in his memory and spread warmth in his chest.
***
Alfred hesitated at the door, cleared his throat, as if testing the capabilities of his own voice, and still pressed the doorbell. A little time passed before sounds approaching from the other side were heard. The lock clicked, the door opened slightly, and a familiar face appeared.
"It's you again," Arthur was surprised.
"Hello! I'd like to thank you again for saving Chpul. And, well..." he picked up a large rustling bag with two fragrant boxes. "I hope you like pizza."
Arthur raised an interested eyebrow and opened the door with a slight smile.
"Gratitude accepted. Come in."
Something white and spotted immediately ran underfoot, sniffed the food and sat down curiously by the door.
"Don't get in the way, Rusky, this isn't for you."
Alfred burst out laughing.
"Rusky?"
"Nothing funny." He seemed embarrassed. His cheeks were blushing again.
"Apparently we have something in common after all. We give great nicknames.
Arthur chuckled. Alfred involuntarily began to look at him. The gray trousers and green checked shirt did not look homely and indicated that he had recently returned from somewhere. A knitted black bracelet dangled from his wrist. His hair was still disheveled, since not experienced the effect of a comb all day. However, perhaps the comb tried, but was powerless. Eyes with splashing thick green, thin cheekbones, thick eyebrows, amazingly organically written into the image.
- Handsome.
- What?
- What?
They were silent for a couple of seconds, after which Arthur looked at him somehow mysteriously and pointed to the living room with a smile.
- Pizza won't eat itself. I'll bring beer.
Alfred nodded happily. The evening clearly promised to be delightful.