Chapter Text
Simon regretted his involvement in the bombing, setting them off. But he felt he’d gotten his due penance for his crimes. He wore the scars over the majority of his left side, third-degree burns. It left nerve damage in his left arm, and fucked up his left eye and ear, seemingly leaving him with a blind side. On top of the physical retribution, he’d served his time.
Despite the disabilities he was left with, the mental and physical trauma, the one thing Simon was grateful for was that his jail time and subsequent counselling had helped him get out and see Eden as the cult it was. Through the rehabilitation services, he’d been able to get housing and a job. He was grateful for it, as having a criminal record on top of no “real world” experience would have made it a lot harder to get out. His job was working at a café. It was… well, it was a job.
Simon still had mandatory meetings with his counsellor, and it was helping. It was his counsellor who suggested Simon could get a pet. Simon had always liked animals, and so he was swayed by the idea. He liked the idea of something he could snuggle up with, but he wanted something that was not too much work. So, ultimately, he settled on possibly getting a cat.
Simon did his research, checking the local pet shelter's website to see which cats were available. One cat in particular, Crystal-Gem, caught his interest. She was a beautiful soft silver-grey tabby with flecks of orange-brown and the bluest of eyes. Her profile stated that she was one year old, spayed, vaccinated, very friendly, liked other cats, and not high-energy. Sufficient to say, Simon was in love.
So Simon went to the shelter, fully intending to adopt Crystal and feeling nervous excitement about it. An attendant showed him in and to Crystal’s cage, opening it so he could pet her. Crystal immediately greeted Simon warmly, purring and rubbing herself over his hand, causing Simon to smile.
“We were hoping that she’d get adopted with James.” The attendant told Simon.
“Huh?” Simon looked over to the attendant, confused.
“This is James.” The lady pointed to another cage where a brown tabby was waving a paw out and meowing desperately.
“They’re in love. Watch this.” She opened James’s enclosure, and Crystal let out an excited chirp.
The moment James was free, both cats hurried toward each other. They bumped noses, rubbed their faces together, and filled the room with a chorus of happy trills and purrs.
“Are they related?” Simon asked.
“No, they didn’t even come in together. They just fell in love.” The woman smiled at the pair of cats, who were still glued together, before turning back to Simon. “We do recommend adopting two cats together to be playmates.”
Simon watched the cats rubbing up against each other and knew he was a lost cause. He couldn’t separate them. So he came in for one cat and left with two.
The first thing Simon did was find a vet and schedule a first appointment. James hated it, while Crystal was a bit better. But the vet had some surprise news for Simon.
“Um… you girl cat has testicles.”
“What? Crystal’s a guy?” Simon blinked up in shock.
“No, she’s intersex, meaning she’s a little of both. The testicles are small, basically in her body, and she’s got a vaginal opening, so it’s not surprising that she was labelled a female.”
“Oh… cool,” Simon stated. “Is there any health concerns?”
“No. But I’d recommend we neuter to deter any behaviour issues that may arise. And it will lessen the chances of cancer.”
“Oh, yeah, sure. That sounds fine. I mean, I’ll do whatever is in their best health interest, no matter the cost.”
“Sorry about cutting your balls off without your consent.” Simon apologized to Crystal afterward.
“Is this your way of telling me you’re a dude? Or maybe getting your balls cut off makes you fully a girl.” He hummed in debate.
“Guess you're still both. Maybe Crystal’s not a very good name, then. Need something gender neutral.” He sat deep in thought till something came to him. “Adrian.”
Adrian and James were the best cats. Both were affectionate, endlessly cuddly, and always eager to play.
James was wild and crazy. He climbed and attacked everything. He got the zoomies constantly, skittering across the floor more than running. Every so often, he'd ambush Simon's legs and feet with hisses and playful swats. But for all his antics, he was a good cat.
Adrian, they were more refined, sophisticated. They greeted Simon with soft chirps before winding around his legs. They never hissed or bit Simon. When James was being too rambunctious and annoying Adrian, Adrian would hiss and give him a good whap to his head.
The two cats were hopelessly devoted to each other. They spent hours curled together in patches of sunlight, grooming one another, sharing a bed, or simply sitting shoulder to shoulder looking out the window. They followed Simon everywhere, even into the bathroom. They snuggled up with Simon in bed at night; James on his chest or stomach, while Adrian purred at Simon’s left ear, helping drone out the ringing that seemed to settle in whenever he lay down.
Simon loved them more than anything. Since Adrian and James had come into his life, Simon had been doing better both physically and mentally. So in return, he spoiled them with toys and treats. He bought them the best food he could afford. He even slipped them the occasional bite of chicken or fish from his dinner. He couldn’t deny them.
One day, something tragic happened. Simon had a little balcony on his lower-level apartment, and he’d started a makeshift garden on it. He let Adrian and James out as he tended to his plants, letting them enjoy the outside and the sun. Plus, he liked their company. Simon went back inside to grab something, and Adrian followed him. It was just a few seconds, and Simon thought nothing of it. But when he returned, James was nowhere to be seen.
“Shit, Shit, shit.” Simon started to swear and panic. He swung his head over the railing, searching below. The ground was close enough that James could have jumped and remained unharmed. But Simon couldn’t see James anywhere.
“Okay, okay. Maybe he went back inside.”
Simon grabbed Adrian and carried them to place in his room then locked them inside. Adrian cried and pawed at the door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
Simon raced off to grab the cat treat bag to shake. “James, James!” He called.
Simon didn’t know how long he had spent desperately searching for James. The tom was nowhere inside. Simon even looked outside down and around below his balcony, and still nothing. He urgently talked to some of the other tenants, showing them a picture of James, and they all promised to keep a lookout.
Simon didn’t want to leave James outside, lost. But he didn’t know what else to do. It was getting late, and Adrian wouldn’t like being confined to his room for so long. So in defeat, Simon went back to his apartment. He collapsed into shaking sobs into Adrian’s fur. “I don’t know what to do.”
Simon could barely get to sleep that night, imagining the horrors James would face outside, such as cars and coyotes. As soon as the library opened the next morning, Simon was printing off lost cat posters to hang around.
Days passed, but nothing. No calls, nothing. Even Adrian seemed to be affected by James’s absence. Adrian wandered the apartment with questioning meows, as if looking for James. Simon did his best to comfort them.
Simon went frequently to his local shelter to see if they had found James, but nothing. Eventually, he felt solemn defeat, assuming the worst. He felt him and Adrian would be heartbroken for the rest of their lives over James’s disappearance.
~ ~ ~
“Alright, alright. Have a great weekend. And don’t forget about the report on Monday.” Grace called after his students as they excitedly left his classroom. Grace couldn’t help but smile; he was looking forward to the weekend too.
After his students cleared out, Grace tidied his classroom. He was stuffing the last of his papers into his satchel when a knock sounded at the door. Grace looked up, finding his colleague Hammon, the Grade Six English teacher, leaning against the doorframe.
“You'd better get going, Grace. Unless you want to get caught in the rain.” Hammon jerked a thumb toward the window.
Grace glanced outside. Dark clouds had rolled in. “Oh. Yeah, thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem. Have a good weekend.”
“You too,” Grace called as Hammon headed down the hall.
Grace finished packing up and stepped outside into a light drizzle. With a sigh, he pulled up the hood of his rain jacket and headed for the bike rack. He fished his keys out from his pocket to unlock his bicycle. As he eased his bike free from the stand, a faint cry stopped him. It sounded like a cat. Grace straightened, listening. For a moment, there was only the soft patter of rain. Then came again the meow sound.
Leaving his bike resting against the stand, Grace searched the damp grass until he spotted a bundle of fur pressed tightly into an inner corner of the outside of the school.
“Oh, hey, little guy.” Grace crept slowly forward, getting lower to the ground.
The cat let out another weak, desperate meow.
“You’re clearly far from home.” Grace looked his head around, wiping off his glasses.
The cat yowled solemnly.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Grace slowly reached out his hand, extending a finger.
The cat arched up and hissed, and Grace quickly retracted his arm. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m just trying to help you, alright? I’ll get you out of the rain. Poor thing, here.”
Moving slowly, Grace shrugged off his rain jacket. He spread it over the trembling bundle as gently as he could, dropping it down gently over the cat, then picking it up. The cat hissed and squirmed a bit, but Grace held firm.
“Please don’t fight. I’m trying to help.” Grace pleaded.
The cat seemingly stopped fighting, and Grace let out a breath in relief.
“Okay, so… now what? Would a shelter be open now?” Grace looked at his watch, and rain droplets covered it. He shook water out of his hair and took his glasses off. They were less helpful to him when all rain-streaked.
“Guess I can just… take you home with me.” Grace looked in the bundle of his rain jacket to check in on the little guy, and they gave a meow. Grace couldn’t help but smile. “Come on. Let's get you out of the rain.”
Grace walked his bike back to his apartment with the bundled-up cat tucked under one arm. He told the cat his whole life story on the walk. Once inside his apartment, Grace set the cat down, and they ran right under his couch.
“Right, food.” Grace swung around his apartment only to realize he had no cat food.
“Shoot.” He looked at his watch. “I can run to the convenience store.”
Fifteen minutes later, Grace returned with a few cans of wet food. He spooned some onto a plate and slid it toward the edge of the couch. Grace decided to give the poor, scared cat some space. Meanwhile, he could use a warm shower.
When Grace came back out from his shower, he found the cat eating and smiled.
“Hey.” Grace slowly came over, sitting down, and offered a hand.
The cat arched its back, sneering a bit. Grace pulled respectfully away.
Grace waited till the cat had settled back into eating, then tried again, moving more slowly. His fingertips barely brushed the top of the cat's head. Instead of flinching away, the cat leaned into the touch, rubbing against his hand and began to purr.
“Oh.” Grace smiled. “You’re such a sweet guy.” He scratched gently behind the cat's ears. “I hope we find your owner.”
When Grace moved, the cat scurried off under the couch again.
Leaving the cat in peace, Grace headed to bed. He'd barely settled beneath the covers when he heard the cat running around crazy across the hardwood in his apartment. Grace sighed, climbed back out of bed, and cracked open the door to check on the cat. He found it in his living room, running across the couch. The cat froze mid-zoom, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“You good?” Grace questioned.
The only answer was a small, questioning meow.
Grace shook his head and went back to his bedroom. As soon as he was settled in this time, the cat was pawing and crying at his door. Grace chuckled softly and got up to open the door.
“I suppose you can come in,” he held the door open for the cat, who jumped up onto his bed. “But no running around crazy and keeping me awake.” Grace came to burry himself back into bed.
As soon as Grace was settled in, the cat stepped onto his stomach, making Grace wince. “That was my diaphragm.”
The cat rounded his stomach a few times, then settled. Grace warmed at the honour of this tiny animal choosing him, trusting him. Soon, it began purring once more. Grace carefully lifted his hand and began gently stroking its soft fur. He basked in the feeling of the vibrations of its purrs and the tiny rise and fall of its body with each breath. It was… comforting.
Grace had always liked animals. He thought they were cool and cute. But he’d never been a pet guy. His mom had been allergic, and his dad said they were too messy, too much work. As a kid, Grace had a fear of dogs (he still felt nervous around dogs off-leash). Now, though, he could see the appeal of having a pet.
The next day, Grace took the cat to the vet. They told him that no microchip could be found.
“We can bring him to the shelter for you.” The vet offered.
Something in Grace’s heart tugged at him not to let the cat go. The cat had wormed its way into his heart. So he adopted it.
Grace named the cat Rocky. His colleagues and friends were a little shocked when he told them he’d adopted a cat. They laughed when he told them the full story. “Dude, you got chosen for the cat distribution system.”
“Cat distribution system?” He questioned them.
“It’s when a cat just shows up and whoever finds them, whoever they land on, adopts them.”
“Oh yeah. That’s definitely what happened.” Grace laughed back.
Rocky became Grace’s favourite little guy. Someone he could talk endlessly to. Someone to be excited to come home to, someone who was always waiting at the door. Someone who made him happy. Someone to snuggle up with.
Grace loved showing his colleagues cute and funny videos of Rocky. He even had a picture of Rocky on his desk. But he never thought of Rocky as his baby; Rocky was his best friend.
When Grace met up with Marissa for their weekly dinners, she cooed over photos of Rocky and laughed at the videos. She came by once to meet Rocky. She stayed, Grace made food, and they watched a movie.
Grace's heart gave a pang near the end of the night, quietly wishing that things were different, that Marissa had accepted his offer to be roommates. He’d thought it’d be nice to live with a friend. But Marissa said that’d just make everyone think they were dating, and she didn’t need her family thinking her “lesbianism” had been fixed or whatever.
Grace remembered being so relieved when Marissa had come out to him. He was also very honoured to be one of the first people she felt safe and comfortable enough to come out to. Just before she’d come out to him, all of Grace’s college friends had been pressuring him to ask Marissa out; they thought it had been enough time since her breakup. But Grace hadn’t wanted to. He liked having Marissa as his friend; he didn't want her as his girlfriend. Even still, the idea of Marissa in that context made him feel all icky.
Marissa even said they were better off as friends, and Grace agreed. God, he knew how terrible all his past relationships had gone. Being in a relationship was too hard; friendship was much easier, and he almost preferred it to romantic relationships.
Grace still felt awkward about being single at his age. He’d had offers, set up from friends and colleagues, mainly Marissa. But he didn’t feel the drive to date again. He just felt like maybe dating wasn’t for him. Maybe it’d just be him and Rocky forever alone together in his apartment. He could be happy with that, really. But still, sometimes he found himself wishing for someone. A friend who’d be willing to move in and who’d stay, not be pulled away when they inevitably got into a serious romantic relationship as all other people seemed to do.
Maybe something was wrong with him, Grace thought with a huff for not the millionth time.
~ ~ ~
Simon was having a bad day. The line-up of people in need of coffee hadn’t ended since 6:55, right when Simon unlocked the doors. His co-worker had called in sick, and of course, no one else was responding to his text pleas for them to come in to help him. It didn’t help that the espresso machine chose that day, of all days, to act up again.
It was well past lunch, and Simon’s apron was wet and dirty. Sweat was trickling down his neck. He hadn’t had time to tie his hair up all the way, and it was falling in his eyes. He was starving, having had neither a proper break nor breakfast that morning. His left hand was not cooperating at all, and his ear was ringing. Suffice to say, all that was making his head a little spinney.
When the crowds finally died down, Simon got a bite to eat and then began fiddling with the stupid espresso machine in hopes of fixing it. Simon gave the machine one good whap, only for it to start spewing everywhere.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He cried and flailed as the hot water spewed at him in every direction, soaking him. He barely registered the bell to the café jingling as he smacked the machine aggressively to get it to cease its attack.
“Are you okay?!” A voice came. “Let me help you find a towel.”
“I'm fine,” Simon grumbled out, too distracted by being drenched. His hair had fallen in his good eye, too, so he couldn’t really see.
Simon pushed his wet, damp hair back with a huff. A man was standing right before him, behind the counter, holding out awkwardly a bundle of napkins he’d probably pulled from the dispenser at the front of the counter. He was possibly the most stunning man Simon had ever laid eyes on. The sun was hitting his blonde hair just right from behind, giving it a sort of halo. His eyes were the bluest of blues behind glasses; soft, worried, kind.
“Are you okay?” The angel-man started pressing napkins against Simon as if attempting to help dry him off.
Simon’s breath was still caught, a little overwhelmed about this stunning angel of a man coming behind the counter and mopping him up with shitty napkins.
“Oh gosh, that didn’t burn you, did it?” The man asked in the most worried tone. He pushed his sliding glasses back up his nose with his arm as he mopped up Simon urgently.
“Huh?” Simon looked down at himself. “Oh, right. No, these are old. I'm fine. Didn’t even feel a thing. Nerve damage.”
“Oh, um… okay,” The man stepped away. “If your, um, sure you're okay.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Simon grunted back. His eyes took in the man before him. He felt like he was so tired that maybe he’d dreamed up the man or something.
“Gosh, sorry, I just barged right behind your counter. Probably not supposed to do that.” The man blushed as he yet again fixed his glasses. Blushed. It was pretty and cute, and Simon wasn’t sure what to do with that.
“No, not really.” Simon stammered out in response.
“Right, sorry. So if you're okay, I’ll just... get out of your way then.” The man waved his thumb over his shoulder, giving an awkward smile and then sliding backward out behind the counter.
Simon chuckled, confused and yet amused by the strange man. “Do you want to order something?” Simon slung a towel out to dry off his hands, then over his shoulder.
“Oh, yes. I was looking for a coffee and maybe a bite to eat. I was going stir crazy sitting in my apartment grading. Needed to get out. Thought a change of scenery might do me good. Plus, I was getting peckish. I barely have any real food at home.” The man fixed his glasses again and looked up at the menu, working his lip.
Simon turned away, continuing to dry up his mess, letting the guy think.
“Okay, I think I’m ready.” The man stated.
Simon turned his attention back to the man to take his order. “Can I have a name?” Simon asked, picking up a cup with his bad hand and the marker in his right.
“Oh, Grace, Ryland Grace. But everyone just calls me Grace. For the kids, it’s Mr. Grace. Have to teach respect for authority and all that. Although I don’t really know if I’m all about that, you know. Technically, it’s actually Dr. Grace. And I’m rambling.” He laughed.
Simon just nodded dumbly.
The cute red tinge crept adorably up over the weird man’s cheeks. “Sorry, I tend to ramble. I’m not very great with people. Great with kids though.”
“Right.” Simon nodded.
“Anyway. I’ll shut up and just sit over there and not bother you for the rest of the time I’m here.” He turned sharply towards the seating area before slowly turning back. “Is anywhere okay for me to sit? I really don’t want to disturb you.”
“Yeah, anywhere is fine. If you want a plug to charge anything in, then I recommend the booth seats,” Simon pointed over.
“Oh, thanks.” The man smiled and scurried over, sitting down.
Simon shook himself out of the weirdness of the interaction and moved about preparing Grace’s (as the man's name seemed to be) order.
“Grace,” Simon called, and the man shot up, jumping forward.
“Thank you…” The man’s eyes scanned down to Simon’s name badge clipped to his apron. “Simon. Do you accept tips?” He held a five-dollar bill up.
Simon waved down to the tip cup on the counter.
“Thanks again.” Grace put the bill in the cup.
“No problem.”
The man then headed off with his order.
~ ~ ~
Grace sat in the booth seat, sipping his drink and nibbling at his sandwich as he reviewed his lesson plan once more. He typed away before letting his eyes wander around the café. At the counter, the worker, Simon, was taking a customer’s order.
“Mommy.” A little girl tugged at the adult’s purse. “What’s wrong with his face?” She pointed.
“Sweetie, it’s not polite to point or stare.” The woman whispered down to her child.
“Here’s your order.” Simon passed the items over.
“Thanks.” The woman seemed to be juggling too much to pull out a tip, but she did seem genially embarrassed about her child’s curiosity.
Grace’s heart gave a pang. He felt for Simon, who probably had to deal with that sort of thing a lot. It was the first thing that hit Grace, too, when he saw the man. Grace had been worried that the spewing machine had burned Simon, but Simon insisted he was fine. Grace was just lingering in the shop to assure that he really was. He seemed to be.
Grace watched Simon’s forearms flex as he worked away. Grace couldn’t help but think to himself, “God, should I work out more?”
Simon was actually pretty attractive, even with the patchy, pinky-red, raw skin covering most of his left side and even down to his arm. He had nice hair that looked really sexy tied up in the half-bun. Loose strands kept flying in his face, which seemed to be annoying him. Grace drew his attention away from Simon, feeling like maybe he’d been staring for too long.
The girl across the table from Grace was swinging her feet in her chair, happily eating a cake pop. Grace gave a smile and a wave, but the girl just stared blankly back at him. He made a funny face, sticking out his tongue. The girl laughed before turning to her mother. Grace just smiled and returned to his work.
When Grace finished revising his lesson plan, he began packing up. He thought he’d run by the grocery store to do some proper shopping. Besides, he had to pick up some food for Rocky too. His heart warmed at the thought of Rocky as he began to pack up to head out. As he passed by the counter, he stopped.
“Hey, Simon,” Grace called out.
“Huh?” Simon turned around, blinking, almost worriedly, confused.
“I just… have a nice day,” Grace told him.
“Oh.” Simon blinked more. “Um… you too.”
Grace smiled and walked out.