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He’d only popped out for a bottle of milk.
Admittedly, six in the morning was not the ideal time to do this. But when faced with his darling, attention-seeking cat that wouldn’t stop yowling, the looming ordeal of a 9am lecture and then, the icing on top of the student-budget supermarket brand cake, no milk for his one small luxury of branded cereal, Suga sees no point or hope in getting a couple more hours of sleep.
Which means a minute to walk to the corner shop to buy some overpriced milk, (Suga mourns the loss of the extra fifty pence as it falls into the shopkeeper’s palm), and another minute to walk back. Fresh air always does him some good, though. He's already feeling a little less groggy.
Milk in hand and imaginary music in head, Suga hums lightly, swaying a little as he opens the door. For the early hours of the morning, his mental tracklist selects an upbeat tune, one that has him bobbing his head as he shoves the door shut with his foot. It’s only him in the house today. (He curses his lucky housemates who, with no Friday lectures of death, are free to flee home and enjoy a proper home-cooked meal.)
Well, he’s not entirely alone. At least, he shouldn’t be.
“Misty?” Suga peers round the kitchen door before walking into the room. Hmm. A glance to the side as he opens the fridge door tells him she’s not in her basket.
“Misty?” He repeats, louder this time, cupping both hands around his mouth.
Silence. She’s probably upstairs scratching at his door again.
But when he calls her again, searches every room to be met with nothing, a familiar unease starts to creep into his chest. Misty isn’t much of an adventurous cat; the week where she’d gone missing had seen Suga frantically pasting flyers all over the area, only to be tearing them down when he’d found her rendezvousing with next door’s dog.
Aha! That’s must be where she’s gone now. To the back garden it is.
Suga looks over the fence, and sure enough there is the neighbour’s dog, curled peacefully in his kennel.
But no Misty.
Where on earth is she?
He resists the urge to shout - he doesn’t want to wake up the neighbours. Suga wracks his brain trying to think of Misty’s favourite locations, only to come up short. Really, it’s only her dog friend that she spends time outside for, besides an occasional stroll down the street every other day.
Maybe the front garden?
Suga darts back inside, through the back door and straight to the front, flinging the door wide open. A tiny front garden doesn’t offer much space to hide - it seems she’s not materialised inside the bins either.
Just as he’s about to run inside and switch his printer on, Suga registers a faint meow.
“Misty?” Suga jerks his head round, as if playing a frantic game of hide and seek.
Meow.
There it is again!
He double, triple checks the front garden but no luck.
This time the meow is louder. Strange. It seems to be coming from-
“Oh, Misty,” Suga mutters in disbelief.
Perched on a branch, swinging her tail as casually as can be, is his adorable, annoying cat, Misty Whiskers the Third.
Great. This is just what he needed.
“Misty, come down now,” he orders, desperation evident in his voice.
She dismisses him with a casual flick of her tail.
“I’ll let you stay next door overnight,” he bargains.
She makes no attempt to move.
Oh god, it’s too early for this. Suga groans. Thank goodness no-one else is outside. He’d like the only witness for his shrimp patterned pajamas to be the shopkeeper, thank you very much.
His brain is starting to work overtime. What if Misty doesn’t come down at all? She could be stuck there forever. How am I going to get her down? I don’t even have a ladder.
“I don’t know how to climb a tree!” He blurts out as panic rises in his throat. Curse his stupid fear of heights.
With his thoughts in a frenzy, Suga falls back on what TV and primary school has taught him.
Phone the fire service.
Even as he dials the number with shaky hands, Suga feels foolish. He can practically hear the operator judging him. It’s half past six in the morning. And some poor firefighters are going to leave the warmth of their department and deal with his stubborn cat who refuses to leave what he really hopes isn’t her new favourite spot. Suga thanks the operator and hangs up with a sigh.
Maybe he should keep trying to call her down. It’s all he can do while he waits. Something to distract his mind, at least.
“Misty. You can’t spy on your dog friend. Respect his boundaries. Come down, Misty, I swear to god I’m not giving you any of that quality fish for a month. Do you know how expensive it is? Maybe I should leave you there-”
There are no flashing lights or blaring sirens - not this early in the morning - but the bright red that enters his field of vision is unmistakable.
The fire engine is here.
Suga is not looking forward to this.
The fireman hops out the vehicle with ease. He turns around and looks directly at Suga, waving as he walks towards him.
Oh.
Suga retracts his earlier statement. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
The man is about the same height at himself, give or take a few centimeters, but he is definitely bigger in size. Suga silently appreciates the broadness of this man’s back, grateful for how the overalls of his uniform hang loosely off his shoulders, revealing arms that are equally as unbelievable. It should be illegal, the way his tight black shirt sleeves hug his biceps. Maybe he should have called the police too.
He could so carry me, Suga muses and his thoughts charge ahead with no hesitation. Please carry me.
When he looks up at the person who has significantly improved this entire situation, Suga is delighted to see his face does not disappoint. With a sturdy jaw and brown eyes like chocolate he wants to melt in, Suga thinks as his heartbeat picks up, that it’s a shame he still has a few months left before he graduates. He’s never considered teaching before but he would gladly endure two more years of study - 9am lectures and all - to have this man give fire safety presentations to hypothetical kids in his hypothetical class, to be the teacher who gets to gaze at that face with no questions asked.
“Hello, sir...I believe you needed a cat rescuing?”
At the sound of his voice, Suga halts his planning of convoluted ways to receive a fireman lift (or bridal carry, he’s not picky) by this man whom he is sure was a model in a past life. Even his voice? Suga questions, incredulous as he replays that deep shiver-inducing tone in his mind.
Oh, right. A cat. Misty.
“Yes…” Suga forces himself to look away and points up to the cat he is increasingly becoming less frustrated with. “She decided to make a new nest up there.”
The fireman rewards him with a chuckle. Suga's heart squeezes.
“Sometimes I think she’s part-bird,” he jokes, if only to hear the man laugh again.
Instead, he gets something better - a wide grin so dazzling it could rival his own. (Suga has been told his smile has quite the effect on people. Maybe he’ll try it out once Misty is on the ground).
“Luckily, she’s not very high up,” the fireman explains. “I’ll just go and get the smaller ladder.”
Suga watches shamelessly as he fetches the equipment, carries the ladder effortlessly toward the tree, muscles flexing as he props it up with a thorough safety check before starting to climb.
The way Misty immediately jumps into the fireman’s arms makes Suga feel a pang of betrayal in his chest. So she’d just willingly answer to this complete stranger instead of her loving, caring, devoted owner? Looks like he certainly wouldn’t be buying that fancy cat food any time soon.
In no time at all, the fireman has descended, with a troublesome furball cuddled contently in his arms. Misty is still swinging her tail lazily, as if to insult Suga further yet and he glares lovingly at his adopted child/gremlin. Suga has absolutely wished he were a cat before, at times like the stressful exam season or when he cuts it too close to his overdraft but now more than ever, he is jealous. It’s so unfair, he whines to himself, how much closer to those beautiful arms Misty is compared to himself. If only animals and humans could communicate - he’d totally threaten to blackmail her by telling her dogfriend.
The fireman leans forward and Suga realises he’s been so lost in his soap opera of thoughts that he has yet to spare him of the affectionate claw marks Misty is starting to leave. Suga resists shaking his head at her, to express just how ashamed he is. Scandalously marking territory when she has a lovely dog friend just next door. He didn’t raise her like this. (There’s a part of him that whispers ‘like parent, like child’ and if Suga were alone, he’d pout in not-so-reluctant agreement).
“Thank you...” Suga pauses deliberately as he strokes Misty’s head, finishing off with a small, playful smile.
“Sawamura Daichi. Daichi for short,” the firefighter informs him, and Suga notes with satisfaction the tinge of pink that appears on his cheeks. So it begins.
“Anytime.” Daichi continues to speak. “It’s my pleasure.” There’s a sincerity in his tone, and the way his eyes crinkle does nothing to stop Suga’s heart beating faster.
He has a name. Now, if only he can get a number.
“Stay for some tea. It’s the least I can do to thank you properly.” With one hand wrapped around Misty, Suga reaches out to rest his other hand lightly on Daichi’s forearm. A stutter Suga wasn’t sure was capable from such a confident looking man has him pushing down a smirk.
Unfortunately, Daichi shakes his head with polite rejection, understandably having to get back to being the cover of a superhero comic book (and, of course, his day job of fighting fires and saving animals that make him look so sweet as they lie in his arms). Suga stops his completely objective opinions from going too far. He doesn’t have long left.
Time for the finale.
“Then, maybe you could give me your number?” Suga piles on the flirt in his tone, biting his lip for emphasis. “You know. In case my cat gets stuck again.”
It’s endearing how wide Daichi’s eyes grow and Suga watches in anticipation as his mouth opens slightly. He’s got this.
Or so he thinks. The furrowed eyebrows that follow after start to make him worry. Suga wonders if he’d been too forward.
Then, oh so thankfully, Daichi starts to talk. Suga listens attentively, hangs on to each syllable with baited breath.
“Um...999?”
Daichi’s confusion is so open and honest.
Suga doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
***
“I can’t breathe, oh my god, 999,-”
Surely it’s okay to accidentally light a housemate’s hair on fire, right?
Maybe then he’d have a chance to ask the hot fireman for his number again.
(It’s all thanks to Misty in the end. Although, on their first date at a cosy, intimate coffee shop with expensive orders that Daichi chivalrously pays for, he does comment on how bizarre it was that she managed to get stuck on the roof, of all places. Suga simply shrugs, taking a long sip as he hides a smile in his cup. Who knew that a bottle of milk and his loveable rascal of a cat would lead to this?
“By the way, you have cute pajamas.”
Suga chokes on his coffee.)