Archive of Our Own

Zayne — Maine Coon
How did he get to live with you?

A precious cat café that you frequented was your favorite, it had a cozy atmosphere and the kitties were adorable. Most of them were young and lively, playing under the tables and napping on the window frames. You loved that place, but one day you received the unfortunate notice: they were going to close permanently soon.

The nostalgia of memories formed in that special place drove you to visit again before it shut down forever. There was no longer service, and just a couple of employees were cleaning up the place. They apologized and explained that maintaining the establishment had become impossible since the rent became pricier and the cats needed more medical treatments. Upset, you were about to leave just when the owner stopped you at the door.

In his fragile arms he carried a pitch-black beauty, bigger than a regular cat. You recognized him as the cat you always found at the reception desk every day you visited, staring at the door in an upright sitting position or taking a nap from time to time.

The owner explained that it was his cat. He tried many times to introduce him to the rest of the cats in the café, but he never got along much, mostly because his big body intimidated the smaller ones, and apparently, he wasn't as playful. Because of this, he made it stay with him at the reception to keep him company, rarely getting any caress besides yours, who always showed him affection.

The gentleman explained the complicated state of his health. His business had become a chore for him, it made him stay away from home for long hours, and he couldn't bring himself to leave his precious cat alone that much. Since his goal was to provide the kittens with a better life, he got them new owners who were happy to adopt them before closing the shop. But for his boy… he needed the perfect caregiver. That's when you learned his name: Zayne.

And that's how it happened. After a couple of days of proper procedures, your new angelic boy was home.

Kitty traits

Gracious presence. Zayne has the unique talent of making looking through the windows a solemn sight, with his silky, daintily groomed black fur glistening in the late afternoon sunlight. His tall, long body stretches gracefully when he wakes up from his small naps, purring tenderly when you scratch his chin (he loves it). His existence is so full of grace that your gallery is now loaded with his photos.

Shy boy! During the first days of living together, it was hilarious to see such a big cat jumping in surprise each time Rafayel got closer to sniff him when he was napping, accidentally waking him up. But his reclusive demeanor was as endearing as it was concerning, you didn't want to cause him any discomfort or anxiety, so you did your research and got a few toys and treats ready, compromised to spend the day bonding with your cats. Rafayel was enthusiastic, Xavier liked being rewarded for his hard work, and Zayne... well, he played with the plush mouse toy along with Xavier! It was something, wasn't it? The next day when you returned home after work and saw them napping together, you knew it had been all worth it.

Quiet. Continuing with the previous trait, he's an even quieter cat than Xavier! Doesn't really let out meows and just occasionally chirps when he's hungry or expresses discomfort. He doesn't make any noise at night… someone could learn a thing or two from him.

Glutton in disguise. Zayne is a well-mannered cat, he is clean, polite, and mostly never causes trouble, but when food is involved… sigh. His usual wet food is fine, perfect even: nutritional, tasty, and prepared with love when you add the supplements recommended by the vet. There's nothing wrong until treats are involved. He likes them too much and will get pretty moody if he doesn't get at least one per day. The vet strictly restricted him from eating them so frequently after his last check-up. He doesn't like to talk about it.

His favorite place to make biscuits is your thighs. Soft, squishy even, he doesn't hurt you with his weight and you always reach out your hand to pet him as he commits to his duty. It occurs as you're lying down: he'll announce himself with a short meow and jump on top of your legs gently. After he's done, he lies on your lap quietly (nap time!)

Nuzzles, nuzzles, nuzzles. Against your legs, your hands, your face, anywhere you allow him to, really. Doesn't do it frequently, just when you've been gone for too long or when he's showing affection. Oh, he also likes to stretch his body up on you, so you must carry him and let him nuzzle against your neck when he's needy.

Grooming grump. No, don't get me wrong, I said it before: he's always neatly groomed. Not "most of the time", no. Always. He spends a good amount of time getting his fur clean and shiny, not even Rafayel is as meticulous as him, but... the grooming brush? Get that away from him. You have to prowl around while he basks, acting as if you're not looking for him, then reach down to pet him a couple of times, gaining his trust... and now! You take the brush from your pocket and start from his exposed belly. He'll surrender the first 5 minutes, gently smacking your hand when he's done with the sensation. And let me tell you he's still very polite about it.

No touch. Strangers can't touch him, he'll run off. You can, but that doesn't mean all the time. His ears are particularly sensitive so he'll move away if you scratch him for too long, and how open he feels that day to allow you to shower him in caresses or not relies on his mood. You've learned to respect his boundaries, giving him space when he needs it, and he knows for sure your arms are all open to receive him when he wants to be pampered.

It felt, at times, like the world was a heavy storm cloud perched on your shoulders—loud, weighty, and unwilling to lift. "Bright days and cloudy days" you merely called it, but deep inside, the truth was that exhaustion made you feel like you were running in circles.

“Hey, it's fine. We're all bummed about it, but it's already done. Take this. It'll help you sleep at night”, the forever-sweet Tara told you after seeing the guilt in your eyes, still heavy from today’s mission... including that disastrous report you submitted, which didn’t exactly win points with your boss. She handed over a small packet of herbal tea—the kind that promised to calm your nerves. Her usual remedy when things felt off.

With a sigh, you put it away in your bag and left the Hunters Association building. Your bike was under repair again since it had been damaged during your previous mission, so you had to take the bus—and yes, what your eyes saw was the bus, the only one that came every hour, pulling away as you arrived at the bus stop seven minutes late.

On the outside, you only sighed heavily and rubbed your temples. But inside, you felt like you were reaching your last straw for the day.

[...]

The door locked itself after you, matching your hundredth sigh of the day. Kicking your shoes off and not caring about picking them up to store them was the first sign. Dragging your feet in dim light and just pouring food on each of the bowls was the second one. Ignoring the mess of toys Rafayel created during the day, and Xavier asleep on your clean laundry was the third.

Finally, heading to your bedroom without taking a shower first was the fourth and last one he needed before jumping off the wall hammock and walking towards the dark room. The soft click of the door handle turning startled you. “Zayne?"

You were sitting on the bed, breaking your rule of no outside clothes on the freshly cleaned covers, but frankly, you were too tired to even bother. Your body was facing the open window, small tears blurring your eyes as you stared at the starry sky outside, counting the tiny sparkling dots to avoid any form of thought about your awful, lousy day coming to your head.

Evidence destroyed, a fugitive, and a terrible feeling of resentment toward yourself for failing.

It felt unfair to disturb the peace of your cats with the gloomy mood you were in, and it was late anyway, so you allowed them to sleep and rest at ease, dealing with your turbulent emotions alone. But tricking Zayne into believing everything was fine turned out to be a fruitless mission.

He walked around the bed, his shiny, peridot-like eyes staring back at you. “Meow,” he bumped against your leg, nuzzling for a second before placing his paws on your knees for support. “Oh, Zaynie. Go back to sleep, it's nothing." You scratched his chin and he purred, leaning against your touch and jumping on top of your lap, sitting there. Avoiding falls from the unstable sitting spot, you cradled him in your arms like the biiiig baby he was. “Sorry for waking you up…”

His paws gently touched your face, and it sounded ridiculous maybe, but you felt it like reassurance you so badly needed in that moment, and that made you tear up. His paws patted your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile. Your back rested on the mattress now, his body cuddled on top of you, purring slowly and tenderly, his soft breathing calming your own. He had nuzzled his face against yours as you cried and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration from the day.

His purring rumbled against your chest as your hands kindly petted his delicate fur, earning an affectionate lick on the cheek that coaxed a giggle out of you. You cupped his tiny face to pepper kisses all over it. "Thank you for coming to my emotional rescue, my loving gentleman," you teased, adoring every aspect of him. Zayne was observant, and after weeks of building your relationship, earning each other's trust, and caring for each other, it was clear as day how much of an emotional support he was for you.

Once your mind became clear of self-deprecating thoughts, you refreshed yourself with a warm bath, changed into your comfiest clothes, prepared the tea Tara gifted you, kissed Rafayel and Xavier goodnight —a well-deserved gesture after a whole day of absence—, and tucked yourself under the covers where Zayne waited patiently for you.

Your hands gently caressed him, waiting for the herbal infusion to take effect, and slowly you drifted into the land of dreams, your relaxed breathing bringing a sense of comfort to the cat beside your limp body. He stretched to reach the lamp on the nightstand, fumbling with his paws until he managed to press the switch and turn off the light.

You'd only notice until the next morning, but it wouldn't be the first time he surprised you with those actions. Were those small gestures the same as he did when he lived with the elderly couple that adopted him first? And if they were, was he tired of having to do it all over again for you?

A few words were enough to answer this: he would always look after you with pleasure, as you always took care of him.