Archive of Our Own

Eggchan runs a hand down his face. 

Oh my days, I’m so broke, he groans internally. In his other hand is a crumpled late notice for this month's rent. Rent that he, obviously, did not have.

“Oh my days, what am I going to do?” Eggchan mutters to himself, nearly leaving a mark in his wooden floors with all his pacing. What to do, what to do… He unfolds the wrinkled paper, rereading the words for the umpteenth time. 

Maybe I could pick up more hours at the library?  Eggchan frowns. No, that wouldn’t work. His boss had already turned down the last time he asked, saying something along the lines of “You’re gonna get me in trouble, kid, if I have you workin’ 12 hours a day” and “That ain’t gonna be the reason I’m goin’ back to jail”. He briefly considers switching for a more high-paying job, but turns that idea down as well. 

The only reason I can keep up with classwork is because I work at the library, he thinks. He didn’t have to do much as a student librarian— in fact, he was basically getting paid to sit there and study and occasionally help someone find a book they were looking for. It was his dream job as a lazy college student. 

Maybe not for a broke lazy college student, but you win some, and you lose some. 

Eggchan stares at the note. 

He just happened to be losing a lot right now. Specifically money. 

I could… pick up another job?  Gosh darn it, that sounded like so much work. 

He tosses the piece of paper on his nearby kitchen counter. He still has a few days before his landlord will start charging a late fee. Egg will figure it out later.

Later is right now. 

Oh my days, oh my days, oh my days. He’s still on his way back to his apartment from his night shift at the library, speed walking down the street. 

Eggchan had managed to scrape some more money together— had nearly started crying in front of his boss today at the library for his paycheck early and then again when his boss actually agreed. Eggchan is half sure his boss must think he’s in some shady business with loansharks instead of just struggling to make ends meet. 

“I’m still one hundred dollars short,” Eggchan breathes unbelievably, staring down at his pile of crumpled bills and coins in his hands. One hundred dollars. Oh my days, where am I going to get a hundred dollars—

Eggchan’s churning thoughts are interrupted by the familiar ring of his phone. He jams his precious rent money into his front pockets and grabs his phone from his back pocket. The name “MINUTE” flashes on his cracked screen. He winces and hesitates before picking up. 

“Hey, Minute,” he greets, trying to seem casual and not like he’s at risk of being kicked out of his apartment. “How um, how are you doing?”

Eggchan can hear the way Minute raises an eyebrow on the other side of the call. 

“I’m doing good, thanks for asking,” he replies, voice grainy through the call. Then, “What about you? Need help paying rent?”

How did he know?!  Eggchan starts to deny the claim before admitting that yes, maybe he did, with a defeated tone. There was no use in trying to lie. He was a terrible liar, and if anyone knew that, it was Minute. 

“How did you know?” Egg asks, curious. 

“You haven’t called me in a week,” Minute says simply. He doesn’t use an accusing tone, but Egg still winces guiltily. “The week before your rent is due, too. It’s not finals week yet either, so it wasn’t too hard.”

Egg deflates. He really was easy to read, huh.

“Sorry,” he says, voice deeper with his shame. Minute makes a noise of disagreement on the other side. 

“You know that’s not what I mean, Egg,” Minute sighs. “I’d be more than happy to send you the money, kid. I would be happy paying for your whole rent actually, if only someone wasn’t so stubborn.”

“And you know that I can’t accept that,” Eggchan argues, trying to sound as firm as he could with his monotone voice. “You already pay for my phone bill and my tuition. Rent would be way too much.”

“I feel like you forget that I make six figures.”

“I know, it’s just. You should be using that money.”

“What else am I supposed to spend it on if not my own kid?”

“Vacations,” Eggchan suggests. “You could use one. Ridiculously expensive cars or a boat. Maybe another property, I don't know what rich people spend their money on.”

“Usually on their family. Or drugs.”

“Bingo. Better get started on that then,” Eggchan jokes. He hears Minute chuckle as well.

“D’alright kid, how much more do you need?”

Eggchan is quiet a little, trying to ignore the guilt eating at him despite knowing Minute would send tenfold his rent if he asked. He would never. Egg picks at the bandages on his arms. 

“...One hundred.”

“Only?”

“Alright, no need to show off now.”

“I’m kidding,” there’s a pause. “Did you eat dinner yet?”

Eggchan has not.

“Yes,” he lies. Minute sighs on the other side of the call.

“I’ll send $150.”

“What?! No, that’s way too much.”

“It’s for takeout. Delivery is expensive nowadays.” Minute then adds, as if knowing Egg was ready to argue again. “You can tip the extra to the driver if you don’t want it.”

Eggchan nods, then quickly mutters an agreement when he realizes Minute couldn’t see him.

“Okay. Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, kid.”

They hang up a little bit later. After Egg tells a story about the crazy fights around his university and after Minute tells one about his days at work. Also after a promise that Eggchan will call if he needed anything easily obtainable “such as money”, Minute's words, not his. 

His phone lights up with a notification from his bank. It’s from Minute, and the amount reads “$175”, with a note “For the late fee”. Egg sighs, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. 

Egg is standing in front of his apartment complex— he checks his phone, and oh my day, it’s 11:49 PM; he genuinely has 10 minutes to get to his landlord's office— and takes a second to catch his breath from all his speed walking. The building is admittedly not the prettiest, with odd stains on the brick walls and what probably is mold growing on the side. It’s a short walk to campus, though, and cheap enough to support with his librarian job for the most part, and that’s all that matters. 

Eggchan mentally prepares himself to walk into the building when he suddenly hears quiet rustling to the side, where the garbage bins are. He’s about to ignore it when he hears the smallest, saddest meow he’s ever heard. 

Curse my bleeding heart, Eggchan thinks. He struggles for a moment, trying to force himself to walk into the building and not towards the gross garbage bins when he hears another pained meow. He sighs, folding immediately. 

“Hello? Is there a cat here?” Eggchan asks out loud, peeking around all the trash bags. He ignores the smell to the best of his ability as he walks closer to the quiet rustling. It takes him a second to spot where the movement is coming from; his vision isn’t the greatest, especially in the dark, and then another second to spot the fluffy tail poking out from beneath a torn cardboard box. 

He carefully reaches out to remove the cardboard.

“Are you— oh my days.” Eggchan blinks. Two yellow eyes blink back at him. “You’re purple.” 

The purple-furred cat— did someone dye his fur? Oh my, that’s awful— hisses at him when he tries to approach. Egg holds his hands up in a show of peace.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you,” he reassures gently. At a closer glance, Egg sees the way the cat is favoring one front paw, and its fur is matted with might he thinks might be blood. Egg feels a jab of pain straight through his heart.

“I’m sorry, that must hurt a lot, right?” he murmurs. Eggchan crouches, getting closer to eye-level with the cat, and extends a gentle hand. The cat flinches back at the movement, his ears pinning back, and Egg freezes.

“I just want to help you, okay?” Eggchan explains in a soft voice. He gestures to his own arms, all wrapped up in bandages. “I can stop the bleeding, okay? We just need to get to my apartment.”

He points at the brick building next to them.

“See? That’s where I live. Very close by. What do you say?”

The cat still flinches a little when Egg moves closer, but doesn’t hiss. He takes that as a good sign and scoots a little closer, hands obviously in view.

This is a very bad idea, Eggchan thinks. What if this cat has rabies? It looks like it might. The cat is also bleeding and hurt, so Eggchan shakes his thoughts and goes to scoop the cat up with gentle arms. 

“There, was that so hard?”

…

The hard part, as it turns out, is sneaking said cat into his apartment. 

It wasn’t like his place had a firm ‘no pets rule’, no, it was more like there was a massive monthly pet fee that Egg had no way to afford without help. With that in mind, Eggchan stuffs the cat into his suit jacket and tries to casually waltz by the front desk. The cat makes a protesting sound that Egg quickly shushes. 

The lady at the front desk barely even glances up.

“Doors lock at 1 AM,” she drones out, very clearly on her phone and not at all paying attention to Egg. Still, Egg tenses and starts walking faster.

“Yes, thank you. Good night!” Egg squeaks out, nearly stumbling over his own feet in his rush to get to the elevator. He knows that he is probably attracting more attention, but he can’t force himself to relax. He’s never been the greatest liar or actor. Thankfully, the front desk lady doesn’t comment on his weird behavior.

Eggchan lets out a sigh of relief when the elevator doesn’t stop and that no one is in the hallway when he gets off on the 4th floor. It is midnight, Eggchan thinks, tapping at his phone screen. I guess most people are either sleeping or already out on a Friday night.

He only struggles a little with the key as he tries to balance the cat with one arm while also avoiding hurting the poor creature any further. It isn’t until they are safely inside that Eggchan carefully opens his jacket and gently places the cat down onto his worn-down blue couch. 

“Alright. This is home, sweet home,” Eggchan says, gesturing to his small place. The apartment was technically a 2 room, not including the bathroom. The only thing separating his living room and kitchen was the kitchen island, and then past his kitchen was the door to his bedroom. 

The cat looks around, almost judgingly, at the sparsely decorated room.

Egg bites down the urge to defend his place— he’s a broke college student, alright? The only things he had were either free or gifts from his dad. 

Instead, he tells the cat to stay put so he can go get his First-Aid kit. I can use this stuff on cats, too, right?  Eggchan doesn’t actually know, but it’s not like he has cat-friendly Band-Aids on standby and all the stores nearby are already long closed. His kit is still lying on the bathroom counter from this morning, making it easy to grab and head back to the couch.

The purple cat, should I be worried about that, is still obediently on the couch, though not in the same place. It looks like the cat had tried to hobble away, to where Egg doesn’t know, but didn’t make it far with its injured paw. Eggchan places the First-Aid kit nearby the cat, letting it inspect the materials before grabbing them. 

“Okay, how do I start…” Eggchan trails off, looking around. Grabbing a wet towel seemed like a good idea, right? The cats were notorious for being scared of the sink, and Egg didn’t want to scare the poor guy more than he already was. 

“I’m going to touch your paw now, okay?” Egg points at the cat’s bleeding paw. The cat shifts back slightly, eyeing him warily, or at least that’s what Egg was getting from the cat, but lets Eggchan approach with a wet towel. 

During the whole time, the air is filled with pained hisses from the cat and repeated apologies from Eggchan. He winces every time the cat makes a pained sound or a distressed meow, his frown getting deeper and deeper. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I’m almost done, promise,” Eggchan mutters, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. There was a deep scratch running down the cat’s left paw, one that Egg disinfected and then bandaged to the best of his ability. It was a little hard, especially with the cat instinctively fighting back, but he managed. There were a couple of more scratches on the cat’s fur, but not nearly deep enough to need Band-Aids. Eggchan tried to clean the dirt on the cat’s face, but that earned him a hiss, so he gives up.

There’s a lot of blood on him, Eggchan observes. The only problem is that there aren’t nearly enough cuts or scratches or open wounds to correlate to the red matted on his purple fur. That meant that the blood belonged to something else. He must’ve gotten into a fight, Eggchan thinks. His gaze flickers to the cat’s left ear. A part of it was missing, though it looked like an old wound.

“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” Eggchan says gently, mostly to himself. “That’s very brave of you. I can’t even throw a punch.”

Eggchan straightens up and then purses his lips. He has managed to wipe off most of the blood and, to be honest, was a little lazy to give the cat a proper bath. Maybe tomorrow, Eggchan thinks. He didn’t have the proper baby soap or whatever was needed either and didn’t want to risk pouring soap into the cat’s open wounds. 

He stares at the cat for a moment longer. 

He really is… purple, Eggchan thinks, a mix of amusement and worry. Is it dye? Eggchan had thought it was dye at first, but at closer inspection, it looked as if the cat’s skin underneath the fur was purple as well. Unless someone used dye and some kind of body paint as well, the violet color looked abnormally natural. Eggchan inspects the wet towel as well, now stained with blood and dirt, but there’s no hint of purple dye coming off. The only non-purple part of the cat was on top of the cat’s head, where there was a pattern of gold. It almost looked as if the cat was wearing a tiara.

Can cats be naturally purple? Maybe it was some kind of genetically modified cat breed or something. Eggchan really wasn’t up to date on that kind of stuff. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud growl. A stomach growl. Egg presses his lips together.

Right. Dinner. I haven’t eaten yet.

Eggchan opens his fridge and winces when the only thing in there is a half carton of milk and ketchup and mustard. No food. He sighs and pulls out his phone, tapping at the screen.

“I hope you don’t mind takeout,” Eggchan says out loud. The cat meows back. 

…

“Sorry I don’t have any cat food,” Eggchan says, unpacking the fast food from its plastic bag and tossing it aside. The cat makes a curious noise and hobbles down from its perch on Egg’s couch, approaching him curiously. The cat was rather wary of him, preventing Eggchan from stepping closer than necessary with a hiss, but it seemed like his hunger was outweighing his fear.

Eggchan sat on the ground in front of the couch, leaning against it as he opens his dinner. He didn’t have a coffee table or anything, his space was too small for one anyway, so most of his meals were eaten on the floor or the kitchen island. Eggchan pats the spot next to him, and the cat decides to sit a good 3 feet away from him instead. 

“I hope you like chicken,” Eggchan says conversationally. He had gotten a simple order of chicken tenders and fries, mostly because it was one of the cheaper options and because chicken seemed like a safe bet for cats. The cat perks up at the smell of the fried chicken— wait, can cats have fried chicken? Eggchan frowns and reaches for his phone to do a quick Google search.

No, cats should not have fried chicken. The breading, heavy oil, and frying fats can be toxic. It reads. Eggchan presses his lips together.

Oh, gosh darn it. Eggchan probably should’ve looked that up before ordering. It’s past midnight, okay, his brain isn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

Eggchan looks up to apologize to the cat only to see said cat chowing down on a chicken tender. He stares in shocked silence for a moment before trying to shoo the cat away.

“Stop, don’t eat that. It’s toxic to you!” Eggchan yelps, attempting to wrestle the chicken from out of the cat’s mouth. Despite having an injured paw, the cat was pretty strong and nimble, winning their little game of tug and war. It was more than a little embarrassing on Eggchan’s part, and he pushes the box of fast food away from the cat.

That was the wrong move, apparently. The cat leaps over him, letting out a small pained noise, and then steals another chicken tender and starts scurrying away. His nails scrape audibly against his wooden floors, and Eggchan flails trying to grab the cat. He fails. The cat grabs another mouthful of fries before hiding under his couch.

Eggchan sighs. 

He glances at his dinner. There was only one chicken tender and a handful of fries left. The cat must be really hungry, he thinks. Almost guilty. He runs a hand down his face, looking between the junk food and the couch. If he focuses, he can hear the quiet sounds of chewing and the occasionally pained wince. 

Eggchan tears the last chicken tender in half and leaves it on the ground, next to the couch. He tries not to think about the fact that the cat had touched the fries while he eats.

…

The clock reads 1:01 AM by the time Eggchan finishes his dinner and cleans the mess he made. Sometime when he looked away, the cat had eaten the piece of chicken he left, warming his heart just a little. 

He leaves out a plastic bowl with water and also props open a window for the cat. Freedom of choice, right? Eggchan didn’t want to make the cat seem trapped and then wake up to torn furniture. He made sure to open the window right in front of the fire escape since he was on the fourth floor and silently hoped no one decided to use the chance to break into his apartment.

It’s not like I have anything to steal, Eggchan thinks. Unless someone needed his Philosophy 101 textbook and this week's homework.

It was a bit of a funny thought as Eggchan started to get ready for bed. 

He had a routine at this point— shower, brush his teeth, rewrap his bandages. He winces at the sight of his blue and purple bruises, the edges starting to turn an ugly yellow. The only bandage he doesn’t rewrap is the one over his left eye. That one was more of a covering than for any injury. At least current injury. 

Eggchan circles his apartment once, searching for the purple cat. He hadn’t seen it since it disappeared with most of his dinner and frowns, glancing at the open window.

Did he leave already?  Eggchan guesses that would make sense. The cat’s injury was treated, and he was fed. What else would the cat stick around for?

Eggchan drags his feet back to his room, a little disappointed maybe. Maybe even a little sad. It takes a while before sleep takes him. 

…

Eggchan wakes up naturally, something very rare these days. He jolts up in panic for a second before remembering it was a Saturday. The one day he didn’t have to work. 

He yawns and stretches lazily, thinking about going back to sleep. 

I can catch up on reading, Eggchan hums. There was a book he’s been meaning to read, The Director, recommended by one of his classmates. It’s a tragic drama, and it seems perfect for a lazy afternoon. 

Eggchan rolls over and picks up his phone. He squints at the screen. He has 5 missed calls and 2 messages from his landlord. 

What could he want from me?  Eggchan frowns, face scrunching in thought. Does he want next month's rent already? I swear I just…

Eggchan shoots up in a panic. 

Oh my days. He forgot to pay rent yesterday. 

…

“Minute Tech speaking.”

“Hey, Minute. You were right about that late fee thing, by the way.”

“Was I now?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Well, it was like 11:50 when we ended the call. I figured there was a high chance.”

“Ah, that makes sense. Also, could you, uh, send me like 50 dollars or something? Sorry.”

“Of course, kid. Don’t apologize.”

…

By the time Eggchan had the whole rent thing sorted out, it was about 1 PM, and Eggchan was starving. He had skipped breakfast, mainly because he didn’t have anything in the house, and plopped down onto his couch hungry and tired.

I wish food would just spawn in front of me, Eggchan groans internally. He was getting tired of having to decide what he was going to eat every three meals every day. He debates falling back asleep to avoid having to think about it, but his stomach growls loudly. 

Ugh. Okay. 5 minutes, Eggchan decides. 5 minutes of horizontal time and then he’ll get up and feed himself.

Ten minutes later, Eggchan gets a firm knock on his door. He freezes from where he’s still face down on his couch. 

His first thought is, oh god, is that my landlord? Egg just saw him! What could he possibly want? Was one of the bills counterfeit? Eggchan didn’t pay attention too hard to the crumpled bills, and he’s pretty sure paying with fake money was violating some kind of law. Am I going to jail?  Eggchan doesn’t want to go to jail! He won’t survive in jail!

Eggchan slowly gets up from his couch, eyeing the door. He strains his ears for any noise. He doesn’t hear any movement from the other side of the door, but he also doesn’t hear any steps walking away either. The knocking has stopped by now too. Eggchan glances at his window next to the fire escape and debates jumping out just to avoid confrontation.

Wait. Said window was closed with the lock in place. Did I do that? Eggchan scratches his head. He didn’t remember closing the window, but it must’ve been him if it was locked from the inside. 

He takes that as a sign not to bail ship and open the door. He takes a few deep breaths, mentally preparing himself before swinging open his door.

“I’m sorry—” Eggchan interrupts himself. There was no one at his door.

Am I going crazy?  Eggchan was sure he heard a knock. A loud one too. He looks around the hallway and frowns when he doesn’t see anyone. He’s about to close the door when he spots something white at his doorstep.

Eggchan blinks. 

It was… a takeout bag. A white plastic bag with the same logo from the fast food restaurant he ordered from last night. It looked to be a little torn, like there was a struggle for it or something got caught in the plastic, but was untouched otherwise.

“Did someone deliver to the wrong place?” Eggchan mutters to himself, confused. He debates leaving the food there— he didn’t order it, so he would feel bad if he ate it— before his stomach grumbles loudly and aches with hunger. Egg winces.

It’ll be okay if he ate it… right? It’s not like he can contact the restaurant and tell them they delivered to the wrong place; they would probably throw it out anyway in fear of contamination. And if Egg left it there, then the food would just go to waste. 

With a nod, Eggchan picks up the plastic bag and brings it inside. He says a quick thanks to the air before digging it.

…

For the next few weeks, Eggchan notices strange things happening.

Maybe strange isn’t the right word, more like… lucky. 

On days when Eggchan had run out of food, or his arms ached too much to cook, there would be a knock on his door and a bag of takeout on the ground. It would vary from which restaurant or food place, but it always was from somewhere Eggchan had eaten before and his same order. It was… a little eerie, but it wasn’t frequent enough that Eggchan worried he had a stalker or something. He just chalked it up to some poor soul having written his address down instead of their own and never realized it. 

Sometimes he catches a blur of purple in the corner of his eye, but it always disappears before he can truly see it. 

When Eggchan was a little short on rent for the next month, he tripped over the sidewalk and landed on a 50-dollar bill. The same amount of money he still owed to his landlord. Eggchan glanced around that day, trying to find its owner before guiltily pocketing the money. 

Currently, Eggchan was sitting at the front desk at the library, counting down the hours until his shift was done. It was a slow day, slow enough that Eggchan had finished all his homework and then some. He was staring up at the ceiling, bored out of his mind. 

“Maybe I can ask to get off early,” Eggchan mumbles under his breath, spinning in his rolling chair. He’s been a pretty good employee if you asked him. Surely his boss would be kind enough to give him the rest of the day off. He huffs quietly. Yeah, when cats fly maybe. It’s a useless fantasy he knows, and besides, he needed the money. 

“Eggchan,” his boss’ voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Eggchan immediately straightens up in his chair and searches his mind to remember if he did anything wrong this shift. 

“Relax, bud. You ain’t in trouble,” his boss chuckles. Eggchan bites down a wince at how easy it is to read him. His boss waves a piece of paper around, and Eggchan catches a glimpse of maybe the worst handwriting he’s ever seen. Written in purple. 

“You’ve got the rest of the day off, paid too, so don’t you worry ‘bout it,” he says, and Egg blinks in surprise. Eggchan asks why, and his boss shrugs, an odd look on his face.

“I’ve got some… people comin’ over, and it’s probably best if you ain’t here.”

Well, that’s definitely a warning. Eggchan quickly agrees and gathers his stuff and speed-walks right out the door. He makes sure to thank his boss repeatedly before he leaves. 

Eggchan is also starting to worry about his memory, just a tad.

When he wakes up in the morning, his door and windows are always locked despite remembering explicitly that he had forgotten to lock them. Just the day before, Eggchan’s arms were full with groceries so he couldn’t quite close the door behind him without tipping over. Then he got distracted with putting said groceries away, and when he finally remember wait, I haven’t closed the door, the door was miraculously closed with the lock slid in place. 

It reminds him of that first time he noticed the window magically closed, back when he helped that purple cat, but shrugs it off. 

Once, when he’s sitting in his Greek Mythology class, he physically deflates when he realizes he left his essay on the kitchen counter. He had pulled it out that morning to reread the paper while he ate breakfast and make sure there were no mistakes. 

I must’ve left it on the counter, Eggchan thinks miserably, staring at his open backpack. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he definitely remembers rushing out of the apartment and seeing the paper on the counter. He sighs and sinks in his chair. 

At the end of class, the professor does one last call for their essays, flipping through the papers. Eggchan is walking by when his professor frowns at the stack of papers. 

“Eggchan.” He freezes in his step. His professor waves around the stack of papers. “I need your essay. I know you did it,” she says, a playful lilt to her voice. Professor Jumper was always nice to him, and that made Eggchan feel even worse that he didn’t have it.

“Yeah, sorry, I—”

“Oh, wait. Here it is!” Professor Jumper says cheerfully. She, much to the disbelief of Eggchan, pulls out a paper from the stack with his name and the same title he had. At a glance, Eggchan could instantly tell that it was his essay. 

I definitely didn’t turn that in, Eggchan thinks hysterically. 

Professor Jumper cheerfully waves him off and, for a split second, Eggchan thinks he sees something purple behind her. When he blinks, there's nothing there. Eggchan walks out with stilted legs. 

Am I going crazy?

When Eggchan got back to his apartment, the first thing he checked was the kitchen counter, and yeah. No paper. 

“What the heck is going on?” Eggchan breathes, letting himself fall face-first onto his couch. 

…

“Hey, Minute.”

“You’re calling early this week, Egg. Finally got rent all figured out?”

“Haha, very funny,” Eggchan says dryly. “I do have rent figured out, for your information.” He doesn’t mention that he mysteriously found a $20 bill at the bottom of his backpack and another $20 stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

“I’m glad, kid. You’re still eating all three meals, right? You’re not cutting out anything important for rent?”

“No, Dad. I’m still eating all 3 meals. I’ve actually had money to spare lately.” It’s not a lie this time, and Minute makes an impressed noise.

“Did you get a promotion or something?” Minute asks curiously. Eggchan bites his tongue. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

“No, I’ve just… been getting lucky recently,” Eggchan says slowly, and it isn’t a lie. It just sounds very suspicious, something Egg realizes seconds after he’s said it. Oh my days, please don’t comment on it.

Minute makes a noncommittal noise, a telltale that he was mulling something over.

“You know, you can tell me if you’re dating someone.”

“I’m not dating!” Eggchan nearly shrieks, his pale face a bright red. He hears Minute laugh on the other side of the grainy call. 

“I’m only kidding. Egg? Kid, you still there?”

…

Eggchan is walking home from another night shift at the library, yawning as he passes familiar sights. 

I can’t wait to eat my leftovers, Eggchan thinks with a hum. The promise of an easy meal waiting for him is the only thing keeping him going, to be honest. Egg makes it to his apartment, glancing at the piles of trash bags on the side, and pushing through the front door. The front desk lady drones out the same “Doors close at 1 AM,” and Eggchan mutters back a “Thanks. Night”. 

I wonder how that purple cat is doing, he thinks with another yawn. 

The ride up in the elevator is uneventful, and Eggchan nearly falls asleep leaning against the side. I can’t wait to lie in bed, he thinks dreamily. He can already imagine the feeling of his soft bedsheets and…

Eggchan freezes.

His door is cracked open. There’s a dark stain at the bottom of the door. Blood, he realizes a beat later. What. The. Heck.

Should I run?  Eggchan glances back at the elevator. As long as he doesn’t get chased, he’ll be fine, but what about the other people on his floor? He debates his options, but gets the strangest feeling that he should go in. That there isn’t any danger. It didn't really matter what happened to him anyway.

Oh dear, this is a terrible decision, Eggchan thinks, slowly entering his own home. He slowly pushes the door open, carefully not to get the blood stain on his shoes. 

“Hello? Anyone here?”

Great move, Eggchan. Announcing your presence. Eggchan mutters a quick prayer and grabs his phone to call Minute or 911, maybe. He follows the blood splatters on his floor, leading his gaze into his living room and—

“Oh. It’s just you,” Eggchan states. 

Two yellow eyes blink at him. The purple cat sits in the middle of his floor, bleeding out. Again. Oh my days. 

Eggchan springs into action. 

“How does this keep happening?” he asks despite knowing he wasn’t getting a response. The cat blinks— or, well, winks actually, there seems to be something wrong with his left eye— at him and lets out a loud, pained meow.

The cat hisses in pain, hopefully not at him, when Eggchan gently picks the cat up and brings him to the bathroom this time. It was mostly to stop the cat from actively bleeding out on his floor and preventing a mess for later. Instead, the cat bleeds out onto his white bathroom floor, decorating it with blood drops and smears. Eggchan winces at the sight.

“Sorry, sorry. I know this hurts, but I have to stop the bleeding first,” Eggchan murmurs under his breath, firmly yet gently pressing a damp towel to the cat’s upper right arm. There was a deep cut on his shoulder, deeper than last time, and Eggchan whispers apologies every few seconds. 

He takes the chance to observe the cut on the cat’s face, running down its left eye. It doesn’t seem to have cut the actual eye, which makes Egg let out a sigh of relief. It seems like a small nick to the skin. There seem to be other blood stains, but like last time, Eggchan concludes it belongs to something else.

“What did you even fight to get like this?” Eggchan asks, almost exasperated. The bleeding has stopped miraculously, and Eggchan begins the process of cleaning the wound. The cat jolts in pain and meows out a complaint, but doesn’t try to escape like last time. Eggchan takes that as a good sign.

“Are there like, bears in the area? No, this scratch is too small. Maybe another cat. Or a dog. Maybe even a lion,” Egg rambles out loud, something to fill the air. It's a habit he's had since he was young. He'd always hated the silence and had no friends to fill it, so he usually filled it himself.

Guess much hasn’t changed, he thinks, humorlessly. 

He fumbles with his First-Aid kit for the healing ointment he used last time.

“This is going to hurt,” Eggchan warns. The cat meows loudly and digs his nails into the marble of his bathroom counter. “Sorry, sorry. I’m sorry.”

It’s a little more difficult to wrap the cat’s injury this time, the cut being on his shoulder and all. At the end, the cat had to hold his arm out at a weird angle, but he can still walk kind of, so Eggchan counts it as a win. 

“Okay. Good job, buddy. Now,” he points at his eye. “I have to deal with that. Is that okay? I’m going to have to touch your face.”

I’m talking to a cat like it’s human, Eggchan thinks distantly. I really am going insane. Or I need more friends.

The cat flinches back when Egg tries to reach for it, damp towel in hand. Eggchan holds his hands up in surrender.

“I just want to help, promise.”

After a long moment of thinking, the cat finally relaxes, just barely, and closes his eyes. The cat tilts his head down slightly, almost like an offering. It’s… very heartwarming to earn the cat’s trust. Eggchan makes a silent promise not to break it. 

Eggchan gently wipes at the cut, cleaning off any dried blood and dirt. He inspects the cut for a moment. There isn’t much to do except let it heal, so Eggchan pulls back, hands up in display. 

“There. All better.”

The cat blinks his eyes open, revealing his sharp yellow eyes. Eggchan smiles and then points at his own bandaged eye. 

“If the cut was any deeper, we would’ve matched,” he jokes. The cat stares at him, tilting his head. Right. Cats can’t speak English. 

“Tough crowd.”

“I hope you know that you scared me, bro,” Eggchan says out loud, accusingly. “I thought there was like. A murderer in my apartment or something.”

He just finished wiping the blood from the ground, thankful that the cat hadn’t decided to bleed out all over his light blue carpet. That would’ve been a little hard to explain. 

He watches his dinner spin slowly in the microwave. The newly patched-up cat watches him from his couch. A little intensely, actually, but Egg chooses to ignore it. Eggchan opens the fridge, in hopes that cat food had spawned in there or something. With his recent luck, there was a non-zero chance.

There isn’t, but there is another box of leftover Chinese chicken and noodles that Eggchan heats for the cat. 

“This is a few days old. I hope you don’t mind,” Eggchan mutters. He places the Chinese food in a bowl for the cat and eats his in the original box. He sits on the ground next to the couch like the first time he met the cat and pats the ground next to him.

This time, the cat only watches him for a second before limping to sit next to him.

They both eat in silence. 

…

Eggchan gets up from the floor, after a little doomscrolling, to clean up their trash. 

“Wow, you really liked the Chinese, huh?” Eggchan comments, slightly impressed. “My dad likes this place too.” His bowl was licked clean of food and— oh god, can cats even eat Chinese food? Egg whips around to observe the cat for a second.

He seems to be fine, Eggchan scratches his head. He knows that the cat isn’t going to explode or something by eating something toxic, probably, but he would still feel bad if he gave the cat stomach issues or something. Maybe I should start stocking up on cat food. Just in case.

Eggchan hums as he busies himself in his kitchen, washing the last of the dishes and pushing the trash down so he can procrastinate taking it out. He fills a bowl up with water for the cat and makes his way back to the living room.

He’s not on the couch?  Egg frowns. He squints as he looks around, struggling with one working eye. He finally spots the blotch of purple, currently halfway out of his open window. 

Eggchan blinks.

“Did you open that?” He asks dumbly before shaking his head. “I’m actually stupid, bro. How is a cat supposed to open a window? Okay, whatever,” he mutters under his breath. The cat freezes from where it was struggling to lift its bandaged arm over the windowsill. It was a funny sight, admittedly, even when Eggchan sighs in sympathy. 

“Here, lemme help.” 

Eggchan pulls the window up, opening it further so he can fit through it. He struggles with it a little, his twig arms shaking embarrassingly, but he manages. Egg huffs from the exertion. 

“The things I do for you,” Eggchan jokes. The cat blinks at him. He coughs into his hand. I really need to stop talking out loud.

Egg climbs through the window, stepping onto the fire escape staircase. It wobbles unsteadily under his feet, and Egg decidedly ignores it.

“Alright, up you go,” Eggchan murmurs in concentration, careful to grab the cat without pressing down on its injuries. The cat lets out a loud, protesting meow at the contact, and Eggchan apologises back.

He places the cat on the rusty iron and brushes his hands. 

“There. Freedom.” The cat doesn’t glance back at him, instead trying to hobble down the stairs as fast as possible with its injured arm. Eggchan clears his throat loudly to grab the cat's attention and then jabs his thumb at his window.

“You know, you could stay a little longer if you wanted to,” Eggchan offers with a small smile. The cat stops in his tracks, as if understanding his words. Egg continues. “It doesn’t have to be forever, just until your arm heals. I’m sure it’s hard to hunt with an injured arm like that.”

He gets no response. Not like, not like the cat could anyway.

“It was— It’s just an offer. You don’t, you can do whatever,” he stumbles over his words. Oh my days, how am I making this awkward? “I mean, I don’t know if you have a family or a pack or something, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Or as short as you want.”

“Even if it’s just to bleed out on my floor or steal my dinner, you’re welcome here anytime. Mi casa is your casa, type of thing,” Eggchan finishes.

The cat slowly starts to turn, his wide yellow eyes meeting Egg’s single blue one. Neither of them moves, silence encasing both of them, and for a moment, Eggchan actually thinks the cat will accept his offer.

Then, suddenly the moment is broken, and the cat snaps his head around and jumps down the stairs despite his injury. Eggchan watches the cat clumsily scale down the staircase before finally disappearing into the shadows. 

Eggchan sighs and climbs back in through his window. His chest feels heavier. 

…

The next day, Eggchan forgets to lock his door when he leaves and comes back to his door… unlocked.

It’s weird in the sense that it makes sense because, for some reason, Eggchan was expecting the door to be locked anyway. He locks, unlocks, and locks the door again, just to test it. It seems to be working normally.

Eggchan shakes his head and heads to his room. He has homework to do. 

Eggchan doesn’t know how to explain it, but everything has been feeling… normal. 

Which sounds stupid, now that he says it out loud to himself, but it’s true. His days are ordinary. Normal. No more random delivery at his door, no more finding bills in random places. No more… luck, it almost seems like. The days feel like the same as it made months ago, and Eggchan doesn’t like it.

“Maybe I should go see a psychologist or something,” Eggchan mumbles to himself. Maybe the self-isolation and concerning lack of social life were starting to get to him. Egg lies face down on his couch. There’s something in his periphery, it looks like a stray hair or something, and it takes Eggchan a second of struggling before he manages to grab it.

He lifts it right in front of his eye.

It’s a purple hair, Eggchan observes. His lips twitch into a smile.

Purple. There has been a lot of purple in life recently. Or at least, there was. Eggchan thinks back to the past week and tries to remember the last time he saw the color purple.

Am I just missing the cat? Is that what’s wrong?  Eggchan frowns. That feels… sad. That he’s missing the company of a cat he’d only met twice and not even for long.

“I guess I don’t have many friends,” Eggchan murmurs to himself. “Any company is good company, right?”

There is no response. His voice echoes slightly in his empty apartment. Eggchan turns onto his side and curls into himself. He closes his eyes. He just needed some sleep. He’ll be fine in the morning.

I wish I had a best friend, is the last thing Eggchan remembers thinking. 

…

“Hey, kid. Everything okay?”

Eggchan frowns. He hasn’t even said anything yet. Is he really that easy to read?

“Yeah, of course. Why’d you ask?” The truth is that Eggchan has been better, but he doesn’t tell Minute, so he didn’t worry him more than he already has.

“…This is the second time you’ve called this week.”

“Can’t I call my dad?”

“It’s Wednesday, kid.” Eggchan winces. There’s a pause before Minute continues, voice softer. “Is there something wrong? You know you can tell me. Are those… guys bothering you again? Is it money? It’s okay to ask—”

“No,” Eggchan quickly cuts off. “It’s not, it’s not anything. I haven’t, haven’t been messed with in a while,” Eggchan stutters out, and it’s the truth. Sure, his arms might still have proof of the last time he was jumped, but it truly has been a while. His bruises are even getting a chance to heal this time instead of overlapping in colors. Through the grainy call, it sounds like Minute believes him. “Also, money is fine. My boss has given me a raise, so that helps.”

Minute hums. “That’s good.”

Silence. Eggchan chews on his lips, thinking. He knows that Minute is quiet, giving him a chance to say something or change the subject if he chooses to. Minute has always been considerate like that. Egg weighs his options before sighing.

“It’s just. I’ve been feeling a little… lonely lately,” Eggchan admits carefully. Careful not to give too much away. Egg can imagine Minute nodding on the other side of the call, and it helps a little.

“I see.” A pause. “I wish I could be there, kid.”

Minute sounds guilty. Like all of Egg’s problems were somehow caused by Minute. Eggchan huffs.

“I know, you would live right next door if it was up to you, old man,” Eggchan jokes. 

“Correct. Is it so wrong of me to want to be with my kid?”

“Yes, especially when you’re so important to this country’s security.”

“I’ll quit.”

“You would never,” Eggchan says, maybe a little too wistfully. “You love your job too much.”

Minute goes quiet, and Egg feels a pang of guilt go through him.

“Dad, I didn’t mean—”

“I know, kid,” Minute cuts him off gently. “I know.” And then, as a horrible transition to move on from the topic, Minute clears his throat and says, “Have you tried that Chinese place I told you about earlier? I had it recently again, and it’s still amazing. I haven’t stopped thinking about their orange chicken.”

Eggchan hums in response. He leans down and presses his forehead onto his kitchen counter as the call continues.

…

“I wish I smoked,” Eggchan sighs meanlessly into the cool, night air. 

He was leaning against the railing of his fire escape, window wide open behind him. He briefly thinks about his AC and all the heat he’s letting out and the bill, but he truly can’t be bothered to close and then reopen the window. Also, he fears he might accidentally lock himself out with how inconsistent the lock has been recently. 

“Or drank. Or did something.” It’s a lie. Eggchan already sounds like he smokes daily if he’s being honest, and his body is already too fragile as it is to start doing something like drinking. It wouldn’t be worth it. He has a brief thought about wanting to go partying, but quickly shuts that down too.

He had tried once and has firmly decided never again. Maybe he’s just craving the companionship that comes with these kinds of things. Or maybe he just wished he was someone people wanted at parties.

Eggchan watches the cars pass by from the stairs and the occasional person walking on the sidewalk. 

Maybe I can call Minute, he thinks, tapping at his phone. It reads 9:23 PM. He checks his phone logs and smiles wryly. They had already called earlier today, just hours prior. Minute would definitely pick up the phone, but Eggchan felt bad. Like he was a distraction or a bother or something, preventing Minute from focusing on his job. 

Eggchan leans his arms on the railing and buries his face into the side of his arm. The angle makes him face the ground. Four stories up is pretty high, he thinks idly. It would be a pretty far drop if something were to happen. 

It’s cold. He shivers, but doesn’t move to go inside. 5 more minutes, he thinks. Then I’ll go inside.

“…Meow?” 

Eggchan jumps in shock, smacking his head on the stairs above him. He lets out a yelp of pain, a complaint already on the tip of his tongue before he realizes what he’s looking at.

“Cat?” he says intelligently. The purple cat doesn’t say anything nor look at him. Eggchan perks up.

“You’re back! And you aren’t bleeding everywhere, oh, that is great,” Eggchan laughs out, relief in his voice. He quickly backtracks when it looks like the cat might jump back to where he came from.

“Not that that is a bad thing! Or that you have to be bleeding,” Eggchan adds. “I’m glad you’re here. Do you, um, do you wanna go inside?”

“This is my bathroom. I mean, you were in here earlier, but I don’t know if you had time to look around,” Eggchan explains.

The violet colored cat followed after Eggchan with the quiet pitter-patter of his paws on the wooden floors. From their brief moments, he had gathered that the cat was more intelligent than other cats, seemingly able to understand a good amount of English or at least understood context clues, so he wasn’t too surprised when the cat agreed to follow him around for his house tour. 

Eggchan points at various things and tells the silly story behind them, like his shower curtain with fishes on it that he accidentally stole and felt bad about for months later. 

“I tried to return it when I realized, but they wouldn’t take it back,” Eggchan admits. “It was super embarrassing. I’ve never been back since.” The cat lets out a noise, maybe amused, and takes a look at the fishes decorating the curtain. 

It was… nice. It feels like Eggchan has a friend, talking like this. 

“And this is my bedroom.” 

Eggchan debates whether or not to let the cat onto his bed and caves when the cat tilts his head up to look at him with pleading eyes. 

“Fine. Fine. But if you give me bed bugs or fleas or something, I’m going to be very upset.”

The cat meows happily and flops down on his light blue bedsheets. 

It’s a very funny sight.

“You’re not very cat-like, are you?” Eggchan jokes. The way the cat lazily lies on his bed is almost human-like. 

Eggchan sighs and climbs on the bed, careful not to disrupt the cat. 

He lies faced down, gaze flickering over the relaxing cat. 

“Do you have a name?” Eggchan asks curiously. It’s a dumb question, something he realizes a beat after. The cat can’t talk, obviously.

The purple cat blinks at him, almost looking annoyed at the disturbance. Eggchan is about to apologize when the cat gets up with a stretch and approaches him. He watches dumbly as the cat starts to paw at his phone.

“My phone?” Eggchan asks, confused. He flips it over so the screen is facing up and the cat makes an approving meow. The cat taps at the screen, impatiently, and Eggchan caves and unlocks the phone for him.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you know how a phone works,” Eggchan mutters. He watches the cat move with equal parts awe and fear as the cat opens his notes open and taps until the keyboard slides up.

“What the heck,” Eggchan blurts out. “You know English?”

The cat ignores him and studies the screen, slowly typing out a name.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen,” Eggchan says out loud. He feels like he should be recording this, but he can’t, not with the cat using his phone. He watches the cat type W-E-M-M-B-I, wait no spelling mistake, W-E-M-M-B-U.

“Wemmbu,” Eggchan reads, eyebrows furrowed. “Is that your name?”

The cat meows, and it almost seems like the cat— Wemmbu— is grinning.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Wemmbu,” Eggchan greets with a smile. “I’m Eggchan.” Wemmbu makes a huffing noise, as if to say “I knew that,” and then lies back down, stretching lazily. Eggchan follows suit with an amused, quiet laugh.

“5 minutes,” he says. “5 minutes and then we get up.”

Wemmbu meows out a response.

30 minutes pass of Eggchan mindlessly scrolling on his phone before he finally decides to get up and go to bed. He still has to wake up early tomorrow— he’s got a 9 AM class, gosh darn it. He checks his phone and the time reads 1:49 AM. 

Why do I do this to myself?

Eggchan gets up with a groan, stretching his arms and popping his joints. The cat jolts up from where it has presumably drifted off, blinking repeatedly as if trying to seem like he wasn’t falling asleep. 

It’s very endearing, and Eggchan hums as he heads to the bathroom.

“Feel free to sleep,” he calls after him. “Just leave a space for me.”

Shower, brush his teeth, rewrap his bandages. 

Eggchan observes his arms for a long second. Most of the bruises have faded by now, turning an ugly yellow and almost green color. It still hurts to touch, and it still makes him look like a freak, but. At least they aren’t black and blue anymore.

I haven’t gotten beaten up in a while, Eggchan thinks. 

He’s not… exactly well-liked at his college. It might be closer to the opposite, actually. Eggchan didn’t have many friends, not that he’s ever had many, but he sure had a bunch of enemies. Eggchan wasn’t even sure what he had done, but it didn’t really matter. He was too weak to fight back that first time, and he’s sure that little fact has put an even bigger target on his back. Egg had stopped carrying a wallet after the first few times it was stolen.

Maybe the purple cat is my lucky totem, Eggchan thinks with a smile. All the lucky stuff started when they first met, right? I mean, all the memory loss stuff also started when we first met, so… Egg was sure it was a coincidence. 

He rewraps his arms. 

Egg had taken off the bandage over his left eye when he took a shower and takes a moment to inspect it.

“Dear lord, it looks awful,” Eggchan whispers, huffing quietly under his breath. 

I mean, they aren’t wrong to dislike me. Eggchan thinks. He sure looks like a freak, with his abnormally white hair and messed-up eye. He dyed his front bangs a sea blue because he liked the color, but he was sure that only made him weirder in other’s people eyes. There were maybe a handful of people that didn’t care, one of them being his own dad.

“Meow?” Eggchan startles out of his thoughts at the sudden noise. 

He instinctively covers his left eye with his hand, but relaxes when he sees it’s just Wemmbu. Egg lets out a sigh of relief. His hand still doesn’t move from his eye, though.

“When did you even get here? You're so silent,” Eggchan huffs amusingly. He holds his other hand out, letting the cat sniff it before attempting to pet the cat. He earns a swat from the cat.

“Right. Sorry. Boundaries.”

Eggchan finishes up, throwing away his used bandages with one hand still over his eye. He knows that this is just a cat, but he still feels… ashamed, maybe, to let anyone or anything see his scarred eye. Maybe I should sleep with the bandage on today. Just in case.

Before he can reach for the roll of bandages, however, a purple paw presses on his arm. Eggchan stops and blinks at Wemmbu.

“Is something wrong? Does your arm hurt?” Eggchan asks curiously. Wemmbu shakes his head— I still can’t believe he understands English— and presses down on his left arm. The arm that was still held up to cover Egg’s eye. 

Wemmbu presses down harder, almost as if it was trying to get Eggchan to lower his arm. 

“My eye is really ugly,” Eggchan warns, trying to play it off as a joke. He doesn’t get the tone quite right. His voice threatens to waver. “It’ll scare you. I promise.”

Wemmbu has this determined glint in his yellow eyes and then meows loudly. A demand, maybe. Eggchan stares back stubbornly.

“I am not showing you my— ow ow ow, fine! You win!” Eggchan yelps when the cat digs his nails into his arm. When he concedes, Wemmbu retracts his claws. 

What a bossy cat, Eggchan thinks grumpily. Bossy, nosy, and impatient. 

“Okay fine. Fine. Just don’t complain when I show you, alright?” Eggchan rambles, buying himself a little more time. He takes a deep breath to try and calm his beating heart.

It’s fine, he repeats in his head. I’m only showing a cat. Even if he wants to insult me, he physically can’t.

Wemmbu meows impatiently, his purple fluffy tail thumping against the counter. 

“D'alright! No need to rush me.”

Eggchan breathes in and then slowly lowers his hand. He doesn’t look at the cat nor the mirror, not wanting to look at his disgusting skin any longer. He stares down at the sink, and every second that passes by, Egg gets more and more tempted to grab the roll of bandages. 

“Listen, I told you it was ugly. I was in this accident when I was a kid, and it’s, now I look like this, and I’m not. I mean, I do look like a freak and I kind of am. I can’t see through this eye anymore, and it scares people, so I just hide it—” Eggchan’s ramble is interrupted by a soft paw. It’s a simple touch, a simple, gentle press to his arm, but it’s enough to snap Eggchan’s jaw shut. 

Wemmbu meows softly— not, not like his other, attention-grabbing meows. This one almost sounds like a whine, a pained one, but not physical pain. Eggchan is well aware of what the cat’s pained noises sound like, and it isn’t that. Wemmbu bumps his head gently against Eggchan’s arm. 

The action makes his eyes burn.

“I’m— It’s fine,” he chokes out. He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t talked to anyone outside of his dad in a while. Blames it on the fact that it feels like the cat cares, and it’s so rare he feels that these days. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. Hasn’t for a long time,” he reassures.

Eggchan sniffs quietly and hopes the cat doesn’t notice. Wemmbu does and blinks at him worriedly, pawing at his arm more frantically. 

“You’re fault,” he laughs with no heat. He rubs at his eyes, trying to will the tears away. It’s instinctive, wiping at his left eye too. His hand, of course, comes back dry, and that small reminder sends another wave of self-hatred through Eggchan. Another reminder of how different he is.

“I’m sorry,” Eggchan manages to get out through a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please don’t look at me. I’m sorry.”

Well, that was embarrassing, Eggchan thinks miserably. 

He can’t believe he started crying in front of a cat of all things for basically no reason, too! Eggchan turns over in his bed, burying his face into his pillow. It was almost as if he was trying to fuse himself with his bed.

He feels a gentle paw on his shoulder and hears a soft, questioning “Meow?” Eggchan lets out a grunt.

“Meow.”

“What?” Eggchan’s voice is muffled in the pillow.

“Meow.”

Eggchan is thankful Wemmbu is sitting on his right side, so when he turns, only his right eye peeks out from under the pillow. Did he think about that, or was that random chance? Egg wonders. Wemmbu pokes at him again.

“What?” Eggchan frowns. “You’re not hurt, right? Why are you bothering my horizontal time?”

Wemmbu stares at him blankly and then pokes at him and meows again. Loudly. 

“Are you hungry?” Eggchan perks up. This was a good distraction. “Hey, I actually bought cat food when, when I was a little lonely and was hoping you would come around again,” he rambles mindlessly. Maybe it’s the fact that Wemmbu is a cat that makes words come easier to Egg. “After like a week of nothing, I thought I might’ve scared you off, and those cans would’ve gone to waste but— I mean, they were like 99 cents each but still.”

Eggchan springs up from the bed and rummages through his cabinets until he finds a tin of cat food with a quiet “aha!” Tuna flavored, it reads. 

Flavored? Is it not actually made out of tuna?  Eggchan should… probably do more research on cat food. He says a quiet apology before pulling open the tab.

“Here. Tuna-flavored cat food. Something finally non-toxic.” Eggchan presents the food to Wemmbu proudly. 

Wemmbu stares at the food in absolute disgust.

“What— I spent 99 cents on this! Are you not going to eat it?” Eggchan gawks dramatically. He wags the food under the cat’s nose, and Wemmbu smacks it out of his hands. The tin skids across the wooden floors, and it’s extremely lucky that it doesn’t tip over and spill cat food all over his floors.

Eggchan sighs. 

“You’re a stray cat, and you’re picky? Unbelievable.”

Nevertheless, Eggchan opens his fridge and tries to think about what meal he can make for two.

…

For the most part, Wemmbu has started to stick around Eggchan’s apartment.

The cat hops through his window when Eggchan is making breakfast and is still there when Eggchan gets back from class or from his job at the library. It’s only at night that Wemmbu never sticks around, but Eggchan doesn’t take it personally.

“I’ve come up with a few theories of why you don’t sleep over,” Eggchan says conversationally. Maybe it should be concerning how much he has started talking to the cat as if it were another person. It helps, though— helps with the loneliness, so Eggchan figures it can’t be that bad. 

“My first theory is that you are actually the dad of like 3 kittens or something. And you have to get home to your wife and kids after being an absent father all day,” Eggchan says, his monotone voice making it sound like he was serious. Wemmbu makes a shocked noise and turns to Eggchan in disbelief. Eggchan cracks a smile at the cat’s face. Wemmbu meows, annoyed at him.

“Chill, I'm kidding. Okay, okay. Sorry, heard you loud and clear,” he chuckles. He takes a bite of dinner. “My other theory is that you just snore so, so terribly loud that you’re worried I would never feed you again.”

Wemmbu stares at him, both annoyed and unimpressed. His tail flickers behind him, though, showing his contentment. 

“Fine, I get it. You don't like my guesses. What do you do at night?” Eggchan asks curiously. “Is it like a ‘I don’t feel safe sleeping at a rando’s house’ or something?”

Wemmbu shakes his head and straightens up from where he was eating a mostly safe cat dinner Eggchan had prepared for him. Mostly safe because Wemmbu refused to touch the dish if it didn’t have some amount of salt and pepper and other seasonings, even though multiple Google searches suggest otherwise. 

Wemmbu poses, leaning back on his back legs and clawing out with one of his front ones. Eggchan tilts his head in confusion.

“You… stretch at night?” he guesses. It’s an incorrect guess. Wemmbu huffs at him and tries again. This time, Wemmbu hisses into the air and swipes at the air again, then stares at Eggchan expectantly.

Eggchan blinks and then connects the dots.

“Oh, you fight at night?”

Wemmbu nods excitedly, or at least Eggchan guesses that he’s excited. It’s hard to tell with cat expressions sometimes.

Eggchan frowns, just a little. “What do you fight? Why do you fight?”

Wemmbu meows noncommittally, as if to say “Why not” or “Whatever”. The cat goes back to eating while Eggchan studies the other’s fur.

It’s still very purple, the color not fading even in the slightest after all these weeks and eventually months. Eggchan was almost certain it wasn’t dye, though he wasn’t entirely sure what else it could be. Or what it could mean if it was natural.

Egg’s gaze flickers over the scars he can see on the cat, all in different stages of healing. It feels like a glimpse of Wemmbu’s life, the part Eggchan had no idea about.

“I’m glad your arm healed up nicely,” Eggchan comments with a smile. “I mean, I don’t know how long it took, but it seemed like it healed pretty fast.”

Eggchan gestures to his own bandaged arms. 

“Wish I could say the same. Bruises usually last over a month for me. I can’t imagine how long it would take to heal a cut at this rate,” Eggchan rambles mindlessly. Wemmbu stops eating to stare at his arm, just on the edge of too intense. Egg tries to ignore it and continues eating his dinner. Eventually, Wemmbu goes back to eating. Egg brushes it off. 

…

Eggchan stirs awake eventually, yawning and stretching. 

It was one of those rare days that he woke up with the sunlight peeking through his blinds. There were a few weeks before finals started, and Eggchan was happily soaking in the last seconds before then.

At least it’s my day off. Eggchan can relax and hide in his apartment for the rest of the day. 

He frowns, confused. It is my day off, right?  No, that can’t be right. He distinctly remembers that yesterday was Wednesday, and if that was so, then today had to be Thursday, and that meant Eggchan definitely had class. 

Eggchan shoots up and grabs his phone. He frantically taps at the screen, praying that he was wrong. 

It reads THURSDAY, in clear letters. Above it reads 10:35 AM. 

Oh my days. Eggchan was late for class.

Why didn’t my alarm go off?  Eggchan groans, shoving anything that looked like school supplies into his backpack. He ignored the fact that it felt a little heavier as he ran out the door.

It was a godsend that his apartment was close to campus, which meant that only 20 minutes later, Eggchan was panting at the door of his class. His auditorium class. 

Eggchan gives himself a second to mentally prepare before pushing open the door, quickly glancing at the available seats and picking one. He tries to ignore the stares and snickers that bloom as he passes by.

He tugs down on the bandage over his eye, too aware.

Next to him, his classmate whispers under his breath.

“Man, Egg. You look terrible,” Wifies comments bluntly. Eggchan turns to glare at him with a huff.

“I’m aware, thank you very much.” He clicks his tongue. Egg pats his hair down to the best of his ability. He had forgotten to brush it in his panic. He watches the professor continue to teach class, already halfway through a lesson. Oh, I’m so cooked.

Wifies slides his notebook towards him and taps the page with the end of his pen. 

“The notes you missed,” he says, keeping his gaze on the professor. Eggchan stares at the notebook and tilts his head slightly to hide his small smile.

“Thanks, Wifies.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Wifies was… a little odd. 

Nice, sure, and extremely smart. Eggchan was pretty sure Wifies was a little weird because he was so smart. There was a quiet intensity to him sometimes that made Egg feel on edge. They were similar in personality, maybe a little too much with the number of times they clashed in their differing opinions. 

Despite all that, Wifies and Eggchan got along pretty well. 

“Did you read The Director yet?” Wifies asks eagerly, at least as eager as he can sound. Egg huffs at the other, amused. 

“Yes, I did, and I can’t believe you agree with the Director,” Eggchan says pointedly. He shifts his backpack to his front so he can return the book to his friend.

Wifies groans. “You don’t get it. He did all that to protect his best friend. It wasn’t some selfish act as everyone says. It was an act of true love.”

Eggchan raises an eyebrow at the other.

“Are you trying to argue that the Director was in love with his best friend and thus it was okay?”

“No, I’m saying the Director willingly and knowingly put his own morals aside for the sake of preserving his beloved’s own morals,” Wifies corrects. “Don’t you think that that is the most selfless act that goes deeper than something as simple as true love?”

“I think you relate a little too much to the main antagonist and need to sort that out,” Eggchan says dryly. He rummages through his backpack. For some reason, it’s a little hard to move things around.

“Hey, sorry. I swear I put your book in here somewhere—” Eggchan cuts himself off. A small, purple face pops out of his backpack. He yelps in surprise.

“What’s— Is that a cat?” Wifies asks, peeking over his shoulder. Eggchan scowls and quickly zips his backpack up. A muffled meow comes from his bag.

“No. It’s not,” Eggchan lies. Wifies smiles crookedly.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw a cat and heard a cat.”

Eggchan opens his mouth to argue when Wemmbu meows again. Loudly. Egg sighs and unzips his backpack. Also because he’s worried Wemmbu is going to suffocate in his bag if it’s kept closed.

His purple cat pokes his head again with a meow, sounding victorious. 

“How did you even get in there?” Eggchan asks, tiredly. Wemmbu blinks innocently at him. Wifies makes a curious hum.

“It’s purple,” his friend points out obviously. Eggchan nods.

“Yeah. It’s natural.”

“Really?”

“No clue,” Eggchan admits. “But it doesn’t come off if it is a dye.”

“Huh.” Wifies goes quiet in thought, tapping his chin. It’s one of those tells where his friend is either about to reveal the most obscure fact he learned from the deep depths of the library or some absolute horsecrap. 

“You know,” Wifies starts with a low tone. “I've heard rumors of monsters taking the form of strangely colored house pets.”

Ah. So it’s absolute horsecrap.

Wifies raises a pointed finger. “All of these house pets were of abnormal colors, including neon green and dark red, and some even had patterns. The owners were very frequently the victims of these monsters as they turned a blind eye to the color in turn for the cute, cuddly creatures. I saw a post where someone’s friend, who was an owner of one, was receiving a range of gifts for weeks before the monster finally made its move and—”

“Wifies, please, I do not want to hear whatever scary conspiracies you have been looking at recently,” Eggchan interrupts quickly, not because it was starting to scare him. 

“If I had a monster in my backpack, I’m pretty sure I would know it,” Eggchan says, though he isn’t very confident in his words. Wifies puts his hands up in surrender and a teasing smile.

“I’m just telling you what I know,” Wifies says innocently. Eggchan shakes his head.

“You are trying to give me nightmares, and it is not working.”

“Damn it. Are you sure? Can I try again?”

“How did you even get in my bag?” Eggchan asks Wemmbu after finally waving goodbye to his friend. He was eating at one of the picnic tables on campus, killing time until his next class. It was one of the quieter places, one of those places where no one really went. 

Eggchan chewed on his homemade sandwich, pretending it wasn’t just cheap bread, ham, and cheese, as he let the cat out of the bag with the promise it wouldn’t run. 

Wemmbu meows at him and then blinks expectantly. Eggchan frowns in confusion.

“What?”

“Meow,” Wemmbu repeats and then paws at the bag. It’s a little funny and insanely cute. It’s hard to take Wemmbu seriously, but he tries.

“The bag?” Eggchan guesses. Wemmbu nods quickly. Then the cat makes a show of climbing into the bag. 

Eggchan huffs.

“Alright, smarty cat,” he grumbles. Wembu peaks his head out, his tail swinging happily behind him. It almost seemed to be mocking him. Eggchan finishes the rest of his sandwich, not without ripping a piece off for Wemmbu, while complaining about how he was late for class.

“I don’t know how, but I know it was your fault,” Eggchan accuses. He’s joking. Mostly. “I’ve never missed an alarm until you, you know. That seems like a pretty positive correlation.”

Wemmbu blinks at him innocently in response.

…

Do monsters actually exist?

Eggchan finds himself thinking, sprawled out on his bed. 

Surely not. How would that even work? Plus, if monsters did exist, wouldn’t there be more evidence than just people on those conspiracy blogs Wifies was obsessed with?

Eggchan stares at the ceiling. 

"I saw a post where someone’s friend, who was an owner of one, was receiving a range of gifts for weeks before the monster finally made its move”, he recalls Wifies words. He thinks about the free fast food and money he started to magically find since he first met Wemmbu. It’s coincidence, right? Egg tries to close his eye, but he doesn’t think he’ll get any sleep tonight.

He rolls over, and Google searches colored house pet is a monster real or fake.

…

Curse you, Wifies, Eggchan thinks, rubbing his eye.

He had stayed up all night falling down the rabbit hole that was RealConspiracies.com and the hundreds of posts on it. There was a surprising number of posts about this “colored house pets are actually monsters in hiding”, at least more than Eggchan expected.

After scrolling through a couple of them, he had learned that the most common monster transformation was cats. That was really reassuring. Eggchan thinks about getting up to lock his door. 

He doesn’t, mainly because his bed is too comfortable to move from.

He also learns from a user named CloneNumber05 that they theorized that the colors of the monsters corresponded to the electromagnetic spectrum. 

“What the heck is this guy yapping about?” Eggchan murmurs. Nevertheless, he keeps reading, intrigued. 

BLOG ENTRY: Ultraviolet index = power level of monsters?

> CloneNumber05

“Has anyone else noticed the patterns in the increasingly violent tendencies of the monsters? The majority of victims die the same way— a slow death of dehydration, malnutrition, or a combination of the two. I’ve dug into these victims’ homicide reports, and most don’t have any note of physical injuries. All of them die a slow, painful death, not even realizing that their ‘house pets’ are the ones feeding on them. It’s rumored that most of these ‘house pets’ were red or red-orange in color. It is good to note that the most common color of these 'house pets' is red or reddish in color.

“Then there was a surge of reports of abnormally colored ‘house pets’ ranging from the colors yellow, lime green, and light blue along with the original red and orange. I looked into a few reports, and all of them died in more violent ways. All the homicide reports had a mention of some kind of scratches, cuts, or bites on the victim. You might know the most popular case, “The Parrot King,” where a bright green, blue, and orange parrot was caught on video pecking their owner to death. Of course, there is a chance that this could’ve been a normal parrot, but I doubt it. There was a spike of reported sightings in the 1970s. Of course, that was the 1970s, so it’s debatable how credible those sources are, but it’s good to keep these in mind still.”

Eggchan put his phone down and let out a breath. It felt like he was listening to one of Wifies’ crazed ramblings, and he was starting to understand where the other got it from. He kept scrolling.

“I couldn’t find much about these bright colored house pets during the 1990s to around 2012 (I’m pretty sure the FBI or CIA started scrubbing the internet when the “Area51” meme went viral. You’re not slick, I know what you guys did), but I did find one Facebook post of a woman flaunting her dark navy dog. She later died of ‘mysterious reasons’, having been found on the floor of her home, bleeding to death. The family claims to have no idea what happened to her or her dog, and the police wrote it off as a homicide. I would add the link to the post, but after I found it, the post was deleted. I’m like 99% the FBI is plugged into my monitor. Too bad, I have another one, losers.”

Jesus Christ, this guy is losing it, Eggchan thinks. His eye strains from the bright light, and his hand starts to cramp up a little. He turns to his other side and gets comfortable.

“Again, it was hard to find evidence of these ‘house pet monsters’ until the appearance of TikTok. There are millions of videos being uploaded daily. It would make sense that the government would miss some videos clearly showing these abnormally colored ‘house pets’. Again, I would link some videos as proof, but the moment I refresh the page, the video is suddenly ‘unfound’. I encourage you to do some searching yourself so see that I’m not lying. 

“On June 6, 2026, the first and only violet ‘house pet’ made its appearance. The owner was named Rejoicin444 on TikTok and made nearly daily videos about his purple-furred rabbit. At first, all of the people, including me, thought that this was an intense case of animal abuse and that the creator dyed their rabbit for clicks and views on the internet. That the creator was lying about all the gifts the rabbit found for him and all the puzzles the rabbit could solve. I thought it was a bunch of BS! I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to believe that the rabbit solved the Sunday crossword in less than 2 minutes? But as they made more videos, I started to realize that the purple was actually natural, like the creator claimed. Crazy, right? A smart purple rabbit. I have reason to believe that the rabbit was manipulating the TikTok creator the whole time with nice gifts and stuff to make itself seem innocent before feasting on his owner. Can’t lie, it was pretty entertaining content. Even when I thought it was all staged. RIP Rejoicin.

“I just remembered him a few days ago and found out that his account has been deleted. I did some more searching and could only find people talking about it, but no pictures. (Again, the FBI and CIA are at work! My Alexa was acting up the other day, and I know that it was them!) I looked into it a little further and was not shocked to see that Rejoicin had sadly passed away a few weeks after. I was shocked to see how brutal his death was.”

“Oh my days.” Eggchan cringes away from the screen. The user describes the poor guy’s death in honestly too much detail and with way too graphic imagery. The user claims the description is necessary because "it highlights the difference between these monsters' strengths". Eggchan thinks this guy is insane. Egg has to scroll past the description, not able to stomach it, and continues reading when he deems it safe. He tries not to think about Wemmbu freely walking around his apartment currently. 

“Of course this is only a theory because there has only been one sighting of a violet-colored ‘house pet’, but I think it’s the thing that makes the most sense. These monsters follow the same system of the electromagnetic spectrum. Red, or infrared waves, are on the weakest side of the scale, while ultraviolet waves are one of the more dangerous. This is a direct comparison to the monsters’ attacks. Red monsters or pets seem to feed off their owners, while dark blue and violet monsters are much more violet, opting to maul and, in some cases, eat their owners.

“The evidence supports this theory! Maybe it has something to do with the sun and global warming. I’m not really sure— there was a large surge of stronger monsters (green and bluish colors) in the 1970s, right when global warming had increased dramatically. And then more recently, now that the ice caps are melting (allegedly), a violet rabbit shows up. Even if this isn’t true, one thing is. These monsters are getting stronger and stronger by the year.”

Eggchan shutters. He was definitely going to get nightmares.

“TLDR: The redder the ‘house pet’ is, the weaker it is. And if you have a purple ‘house pet’, you are absolutely cooked. P.S. If you do have a purple ‘house pet’, please post it online so I can see it before you die.”

“Wow, how thoughtful,” Eggchan says dryly. He shuts off his phone and wills himself to go to sleep. It doesn’t work. He opens his phone again and clicks on the next recommended post titled “My friend owned a red and blue hamster, and now they are missing”. 

His phone alarm goes off mid-read, and he is startled at the sound. Crap. He glances up at the time and cringes. I didn’t mean to stay up all night.

Eggchan manages to roll out of bed, stretching sleepily and burying his face into his hands. He can feel exhaustion pulling at him, but he can’t miss class, not when he was already late the other day. 

Eventually, after freshening up in the bathroom, he drags his feet into his kitchen to make himself some breakfast. He stops when he spots a pile of purple on his couch.

“And if you have a purple ‘house pet’, you are absolutely cooked.” The words echo in his head. Eggchan had looked up the electromagnetic spectrum after reading the post and tries not to take it seriously when Wemmbu’s purple fur matches the scale to a T. 

Eggchan shakes his head. I can’t believe some psycho on the internet is really getting to me. What were the chances, right? That not only was his cat a monster, but it also just so happened to be the strongest and most violent one? Yeah right.

He approaches Wemmbu and holds up his hand, trying to pet the cat.

Wemmbu eyes his hand, as if it were debating on biting it or not, but doesn’t move back. Egg moves closer until he’s able to gently pet the cat. 

“Aww, you’re so cute, aren’t you?” Eggchan coos, smiling slightly. Yeah, there was no way Wemmbu was a monster. Wemmbu makes a trill-like noise, leaning on his hand. “Yes, you are. Wifies was just being an idiot, wasn’t he?”

At the name of his friend, Wemmbu suddenly pulls back and makes a displeased face. Eggchan tilts his head, curiously.

“Do you not like Wifies?” he asks. Wemmbu makes a growly noise, sounding upset. Eggchan tries to pet the cat again, but he moves away. It’s still progress, so Egg isn’t too upset. “C’mon, he’s like. My only friend. You have to like him.”

Wemmbu makes another noise, not quite agreeing but not quite disagreeing either. Eggchan has a feeling that it’s as good as he’ll get. 

“Yeah, I feel that way about him too,” Eggchan snorts and then opens his fridge. “Now, what do you feel about cereal for breakfast?”

…

“When were you gonna tell me you had a cat?”

Eggchan laughs nervously.

“How did, uh, how did you know about that?” he asks, both curious and a little scared. He feels like that paranoid poster on RealConspiracies.com, glancing around like there were cameras around his house. Minute chuckles on the other side.

“Spoke told me.”

“Spoke?” Eggchan repeats, confused. “But I only told Wifies and… and he would’ve told Parrot, who would’ve told Spoke. Right.”

“Right,” Minute agrees. And then adds, “Can I see a picture?”

“Um!” Eggchan bites down on his bottom lip, trying to control the panic in his voice. How would Minute react to me having a purple cat? Is he going to think I’m abusing him? Oh god, what am I going to say??

“No, you can’t,” Eggchan blurts out. He winces right after. Minute is silent on the other side, and it makes Egg feel bad immediately. “I mean, no, you can’t because it might, um. Ruin a surprise I have at the apartment.”

“You? A surprise?” There’s an unbelieving tone in Minute’s tone, and Eggchan can’t blame him.

“Yeah, a surprise. I’m working on this… thing, and it’s in all my pictures with the cat.”

“Is that so?” Minute sounds unconvinced. Eggchan feels terrible. He can’t believe he’s lying to his dad of all people.

“Yes.” And then he adds, “His name is Wemmbu, by the way,” hoping it’ll alleviate some of the guilt in his chest.

“Okay,” Minute agrees easily, letting go of the subject. Eggchan lets out a sigh of relief. They talk for a little more, and Egg finds himself easing the more they talk. He misses his dad, if he’s being honest. Neither of them were particularly tactile, like father like son Eggchan supposes, but he still missed hanging out with Minute. 

“I can come visit,” Minute offers, voice soft. “You always say that I need a break. This could be that.”

“I’m not sure visiting a college could be called a vacation,” Eggchan responds jokingly. “I was thinking more of a trip to Capital City or even the Farlands.”

“You just want to skip your classes,” Minute jokes back. 

“Guilty.”

Eggchan laughs quietly along with Minute, the sound slowly trailing off. It’s silent for a moment before Minute breaks it.

“You know, you can tell me anything, right?”

Eggchan’s heart squeezes. He does know that. He knows that very well.

“I know,” Egg replies softly. “I know. Thanks, dad. Love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

When Eggchan eventually hangs up, he turns to glare at the lazy cat.

“I just lied to my dad for you,” he says and definitely doesn’t sniff. “You better be grateful.”

Wemmbu doesn’t as much as glance at him as he jumps off the couch. Instead of coming to Egg, however, the cat prances up to the fridge and starts pawing at it. Wemmbu throws a pleading look over his shoulder.

Eggchan sighs. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, I’m coming.”

…

“I’m officially bandaged free!” Eggchan cheers.

Well, mostly bandaged free. The only one that stayed was the one over the eye, but even Eggchan started to feel more comfortable taking that one off. At least when he was around the house with only Wemmbu as his company. 

He observes his pale arms and feels triumphant when all his bruises have healed for the most part. Some of his skin still feels a little sensitive to the touch, but it doesn’t look like he’s fallen down 50 flights of stairs anymore.

I’ve been pretty lucky, he thinks. It’s been a while since he’s been jumped or robbed or something. A small hopeful part of him thinks that maybe the last time was the last.

Wemmbu, the evil little cat, tests his pain by pressing his paws down on where the bruises once were.

“Ow! There’s no reason for you to do that,” Eggchan huffs, gently pushing the cat away. Wemmbu makes a trill noise and then bites his arm, albeit gently. Eggchan sighs and playfully wiggles his hand away.

“Alright, alright, enough. My arms just healed, okay? They need some time outside of the bandages,” Eggchan says dryly.

Wemmbu bites him again.

…

“I’m going to die. This is how I die,” Eggchan bemoans miserably. He’s sprawled out on his floor right next to his couch, surrounded by open textbooks and past homework and notes scattered around him. 

“Finals week is actually going to kill me,” Eggchan groans out dramatically. He’s already been studying for hours, and it feels like he still has so much content to review. His mind has fried long ago, and he feels a headache forming.

“Wemmbu, I need you to do something for me,” Eggchan says seriously, his voice grave. The purple cat stares at him, unimpressed by his dramatics. “If I don’t make it, I need you to tell my dad that I love him. And that I’m sorry, I can’t go on. I can’t read another homoerotic Greek story, I just can’t.”

Wemmbu makes a huffing noise and jumps down from where he was lazily napping on his couch. Eggchan smiles as he watches the cat approaching, thinking Wemmbu will try to comfort him or something.

Instead, Wemmbu’s tail flickers excitedly behind him, and then the cat pounces on him, landing all 500 pounds or something onto Egg’s diagram. Eggchan wheezes for air. 

“You little—” Eggchan tries to gently move the cat off while also trying to get air into his lungs. Wemmbu finally moves when Egg thinks he can see the light.

“You’re so evil, you know that?” Eggcham accuses, though his tone is more playful than serious. He can never stay mad at Wemmbu, not really. Wemmbu seems to shrug and then walks away, towards Egg’s door. 

Wemmbu starts to scratch at Eggchan’s front door and then turns towards him, looking expectantly. Egg blinks, connecting the dots.

“You want to go outside?” he guesses. Wemmbu stares at him blankly. Alright, so that was not right. Egg sits up from the ground, scratching his head.

“Do you want food?”

“Meow.”

“Do you… want to leave?”

“Meow.”

“You want to go on a walk?” Wemmbu meows happily at that, scratching at the door again. Eggchan huffs and gets up with a stretch, brushing himself off.

He stares down at all his textbooks and his notes. It looks incredibly daunting.

“I guess I could use a break,” Eggchan admits. Wemmbu meows again in agreement. 

“You know, I was scared it was going to be cold out, but it’s actually pretty nice,” Eggchan comments on their walk. He decided to walk down a familiar path instead of a new one in fear of getting lost and picked the route down to his college campus. 

His phone reads 7:58 PM, which meant that many people weren’t out.

Wemmbu walks next to him, easily able to catch up with Egg’s strides despite his smaller legs. For a moment, Eggchan debates if he should’ve covered Wemmbu with something to hide his purple fur, but well. It’s too late. They’re already outside, and Eggchan is quite frankly too lazy. 

There aren’t many people out, Eggchan reasons. Plus it’s dark. Maybe they’ll think he’s a black cat.

Eggchan rambles about his finals and the things he has to learn against his will. It’s a mixture of complaints and explaining the material, and Wemmbu lets out little meows and noises when appropriate.

“I mean, it’s super interesting, don’t get me wrong. I love the class, but I hate finals. Like why can’t they just trust that I know the material, bro.” As Eggchan is talking and talking to fill the air, they walk by a few people. He’s not paying a whole lot of attention, but he does notice a few odd and disturbed glances that get thrown his way.

Am I talking too loudly?  Eggchan frowns, but tries to shake the feeling off. He didn’t think he was, and he’s sure Wemmbu would meow or something at him if he was. He has this strange feeling, like he’s forgotten something important, but he triple-checks his pockets for his phone and keys so he isn’t sure what it is.

“And dude, don’t even get me started on the—”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Is that little Eggchan?”

Eggchan freezes midstep, his stomach dropping at the familiar, sneering voice in front of him. 

Mane Pear. Egg’s arms tingle with his phantom bruises. He debates turning on his heel and booking it, but knows that there’s no way he can outrun the D1 athlete. He’s tried that before.

“Mane,” Eggchan says warily. Wemmbu had stopped as well and stands at his feet, picking up on the sudden change in the air. 

“Long time no see, Eggy!” Mane says, voice thick with mockery. The other studies his face curiously, or maybe something closer to a leer, and it makes Eggchan’s skin crawl. Egg glances behind him and spots Flame and another one of his friends, Jaden, Egg thinks his name is. There’s no way I can run or fight, Eggchan thinks. I’m severely outnumbered. “I was starting to forget what you looked like.”

Mane waltzes towards him, throwing an arm over him like they were good buddies. Egg tenses under the other’s arm. 

“Oh c’mon, no need to be so scared,” Manepear grins. Up close, Eggchan gets a good view of the orange blindfold the other always wears and feels alarm bells go off in his head. Blindfold, Eggchan thinks distractedly. Why does that feel so important?

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you just hand over your wallet and we’ll all be on our merry way. No one has to get hurt or nothin’. Sound like a deal, buddy?” Mane pats him on the chest in a friendly manner, but Eggchan feels his heart stop with every pat. He manages to shake his head.

“Sorry. Don’t have my wallet on me,” Eggchan says, and it’s true. He doesn’t. He’s stopped carrying it when this all started. Mane sneers meanly at him.

“Oh, you don’t seriously think we’ll believe that, do you?” Mane laughs unkindly. “We all know you live on your daddy’s money. Bet he won’t even notice some bread missing, would he?”

“I’m not— I don’t—” Eggchan starts to struggle under Mane’s arm, trying to pull away. He distantly thinks he can hear some meows and hisses, but it’s hard to focus. “I really don’t have any,” Eggchan spits out.

Mane’s face drops, from his gleeful grin to something way more scary. Eggchan bites down an instinctive apology and fails to push the other away. 

“You lyin' to me? I don’t do well with liars, you should know. And here I was, being so nice to not even mention your fucked up eye.”

Eggchan freezes. Both hands fly up to his left eye and— crap. He feels rough, scarred skin instead of a smooth bandage. I forgot to put the bandage back on. Egg suddenly feels nauseous. He thinks he might throw up.

“Wait, don’t—” don’t look, please don’t look at me.

“God, a nasty thing is, isn’t it, boys? C’mon, come look at his eye! Jesus Christ, that is awful to look at. Can you even see through that thing?” Mane’s loud, mocking laugh echoes in Eggchan’s ears, and he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t—

Egg feels a harsh hand grip his own. Then, Mane starts pulling.

“Wait, stop! Don’t—” Eggchan cries out, frantically fighting against Mane’s grip. Mane doesn’t care. He continues to wrench Eggchan’s hands away from his face. He hears a distant “Wait, Mane, maybe don’t—” and a “Shut up, Flame” and an animastic growl. Mane is stronger than him, always has been.

“Please don’t—”

The hand disappears. Mane disappears suddenly, and Eggchan feels a hard burst of wind or something, knocking the air out of his lungs. A bright flash of light blinds him momentarily, and idly, Eggchan wonders if a bomb went off or something. His ears are ringing— maybe from fear, or maybe it was from the earpiercing, loud monstrous roar. 

What… What is happening?  When Eggchan finds his senses again, he feels the rough concrete ground cutting into his hands and sees a large, purple blur in front of him. 

Wemmbu?  is Eggchan’s first thought. He squeezes his eye shut and opens it, trying to focus on the cat in front of him. 

Not cat, he quickly corrects him. That’s not a cat. That's not a cat at all. That’s a—

“Monster,” Eggchan breathes out. In front of him was a giant, terrifying monster. Complete with long, sharp claws, sharp pointy teeth, and two massive, intimidating black horns. The closest thing Eggchan can describe it to is some kind of dragon. He thinks of the myth of the Ender Dragon for a moment and, stunned, can only think it’s beautiful.

He spots a blur of sparkling gold on the dragon’s head and a blur of orange in the dragon’s hands. After a moment of concentration, Eggchan realizes there's a pattern of gold stars on the monster’s head, almost like a tiara, and is reminded of Wemmbu. Is this Wemmbu? Oh my days, is he actually a monster?  The orange blur is getting swung around a lot, making it harder to focus on with Egg’s terrible vision, but after a few seconds he recognizes the blur to be—

“Manepear!” Eggchan yelps, scrambling to his feet. It’s like the world presses play, with sound returning to his ears and the world moving normally instead of slow-motion. Manepear was currently in the monster’s claws, dangling dangerously near Wemmbu’s snarling mouth. He was also screaming so high-pitched that Eggchan thinks the windows around them were going to shatter. Though he figures he’d probably scream the same way if he was in the same position.

Eggchan waves his hands frantically, trying to get the monster’s attention.

“Wemmbu! Wemmbu, please don’t eat him!” he yells loudly, voice struggling to maintain the volume. The big, scary dragon freezes, comically, looking like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Or like a monster caught eating someone he wasn't supposed to. Eggchan points at the ground firmly. Wemmbu’s now dilated eyes still haven’t moved from Manepear, following him with a scary precision. Eggchan swallows nervously. 

“Please put him down! Please don’t eat him, Wemmbu, please,” Eggchan shouts. Manepear swings upside down from Wemmbu’s grip and adds, his voice multiple octaves higher, “Yeah, bro, please don’t eat me! I don’t taste good, bro”. Wemmbu growls again and unhinges his jaw to reveal rows and rows of sharp teeth. Eggchan yelps.

“Wemmbu! Please, Wemmbu, put him down!” Eggchan scrambles for something else to say, something that would help the situation. Mane shrieks as he’s lowered into Wemmbu’s awaiting mouth. “We can get takeout after this if you don’t eat him, okay? We’ll get your favorite. Wemmbu, please don’t eat him,” Eggchan pleads. His voice cracks with the amount of emotion running through him, but he shoves it aside. Now really wasn’t the time. 

“Please, Wemmbu. I just wanna go home.”

That seems to grab the monster’s attention. Wemmbu pauses, leaving Manepear half dangling in his mouth. Oh god, this could go so wrong, Eggchan thinks. He meets Wemmbu’s wide, yellow eyes, the same ones he had when he was in cat form. 

“Please, Wemmbu.”

For a terrifying moment, Eggchan thinks Wemmbu is going to eat Manepear anyway. He’s thankful to be wrong— Wemmbu begrudgingly raises Manepear back up and then not so gently drops him onto the ground. Then, Wemmbu raises his large tail, as if he were to drop that on Manepear as well.

“Do not kill him, Wemmbu. Please,” Eggchan adds sternly. Wemmbu makes a whine of protest and shuffles on his feet, as if he were a child throwing a fit. It would be funny if each step didn’t have the ground vibrate concerningly and if he wasn’t a giant freaking dragon. Wemmmbu gestures towards Mane’s friends and makes a questioning noise, lifting a single claw.

“No, you are not allowed to eat or kill or hurt any of them either.”

Wemmbu huffs hot air through his nose in annoyance. 

Manepear clumsily scrambles onto his feet and runs towards Flame and Jaden, who grab him with open and shaky arms. They meet eyes— or, well, eye in Eggchan’s case— and before Eggchan can say anything, all three of them start sprinting the other direction.

“Wait, please don’t tell anyone!” Eggchan shouts after them. He winces at the pain in his throat. He’s never liked yelling. “And I’m sorry if I scared you!”

I hope they heard me, Eggchan frowns. He turns back to Wemmbu.

Wemmbu… who is a monster.

I can’t believe Wifies was right, Eggchan thinks insanely. He lets out a short laugh and then another one, sounding hysterical. Wemmbu makes another questioning noise, this one more hesitant. He looks guilty, almost, like a kicked puppy. 

“Okay, it’s okay, Wemmbu,” Eggchan says slowly. To the monster. He’s talking to Wemmbu, who is a monster. “I’m going to start freaking out, but let’s get to the apartment first before I can start freaking out, okay? Can you, like turn back into a cat or something?”

Wemmbu can, and wow, that’s. Wemmbu can do that. Am I dreaming? I have to be dreaming, right?  Eggchan starts walking back to his apartment before he starts freaking out in the middle of the street. 

…

“Okay, so my cat is a monster. That’s okay. That’s fine. That’s okay.”

Eggchan has been repeating the same thing to himself for a while now, nearly burning a hole in the ground of his apartment with all his pacing. What should I do? Do I make a post on RealConspiracies.com? Wemmbu sits on his couch, though not relaxing like usual. He looks… unsure. Hesitant, wary even. Eggchan stops his pacing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to scare you. I’m not going to kick you out if that’s what you’re thinking,” Eggchan promises, approaching the cat. He holds out his hand hesitantly, a silent ask to pet the cat. Wemmbu stares at him before slowly lowering his head, accepting the touch. Eggchan sighs in relief.

At least it doesn’t seem like Wemmbu wants to eat me, Eggchan thinks, petting and scratching at Wemmbu’s ears. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to upload a photo yet for that user on RealConspiracy.com. 

Oh my, does that mean everything that guy said was right?

Eggchan stares at Wemmbu. The whole turning into a dragon thing was certainly more violent than the um usual death by scratches or malnutrition or whatever. He’s still having a hard time wrapping his head around this thing.

“I still can’t believe Wifies was right,” Eggchan mutters under his breath. Wifies and his stupid obsession with stupid conspiracies and…

“Wait,” Eggchan says suddenly with a realization. Wemmbu makes a displeased noise, upset that Eggchan had stopped scratching him. “Is that why you don’t like Wifies? Because he had you figured out when you two first met?”

Wemmbu huffs, as if saying “duh”. Eggchan has never seen a cat look so annoyed before and chuckles. 

“I still can’t believe this is real.” He lets a breath out through his mouth. “I mean, I guess this explains a lot of things actually. The whole food thing and my windows and doors locking themselves. Which, thank you by the way. Well, I figured it was you somehow, but I thought you were just. A really smart cat. I mean, you did spell your name out once and seemed fluent in English, so maybe I should’ve been more suspicious…”

Huh. Eggchan really is lucky his house pet monster liked him to a certain extent, or else he really would’ve been in trouble. 

…

“Your monster form is pretty cool,” Eggchan comments quietly. He’s curled on his couch, most of the lights off except for the one in the kitchen. It casts them in a dim, comfortable glow.

Eggchan’s study notes and textbooks are also still open and surround them, but he opts to ignore them for now. He just found out his cat was actually a monster, alright? His purple, very clearly abnormal and scarily intelligent cat. Finals was no longer his primary worry.

Wemmbu was curled in the space right next to Eggchan, not quite touching but still close enough where Egg could feel the other’s warmth. Strange enough, despite knowing Wemmbu was a monster and seeing what he could have done, it was the safest Eggchan had ever felt since, well. Since he was a little kid still living with his dad back when he thought he was untouchable. 

Wemmbu lets out a soft yet obviously agreeing meow. Egg smiles, just a little, and reaches out to gently pet the other. Wemmbu accepts easily, though not without making an annoyed trill despite his tail wagging happily, and leans into Eggchan’s touch.

A warm feeling blooms in his chest. Maybe he’ll be alright after all.