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Tom Ryder had lived through his fair share of chaotic driving conditions, but the downpour hammering his windshield on his way back from his late-afternoon theater elective was practically apocalyptic. The rain was coming down in thick, blinding sheets, turning the asphalt into a slick, shimmering mirror that reflected the red tail lights ahead of him.
He was just slowing down near a dimly lit intersection, his windshield wipers slapping frantically against the glass, when a tiny, shivering movement on the curb caught his eye.
Tom pulled his car over to the shoulder, flicked on his hazard lights, and grabbed his heavy canvas jacket from the back seat. Stepping out into the storm, the icy rain immediately soaked through his jeans, but he kept his eyes locked on the gutter. Crouching near a soaked, crumbling cardboard box tucked beside a clogged storm drain was a tiny, brownish-grey kitten.
As Tom knelt down on the wet pavement, water splashing around his sneakers, the kitten lifted its head, letting out a high, raspy mew that was almost drowned out by the thundering rain. He immediately noticed two things: the kitten only had one eye, and that single eye was a striking, brilliant shade of emerald green.
"Hey there, little buddy," Tom murmured softly, keeping his voice low and soothing. Rain dripped down his nose as he carefully reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small piece of salami left over from his lunch wrap, holding it out on his palm while making gentle click-clicking sounds with his tongue. "You're okay. I've got you."
The kitten sniffed the air, its tiny nose twitching. It hesitated for a second on trembling paws, then scrambled forward on wobbly legs to take the meat right from his fingers. Tom didn't waste a second. He gently scooped the tiny creature up, taking immense care not to hurt it, and tucked it snugly inside the front pocket of his damp hoodie to shield it from the wind before rushing back to his car.
Once he slammed the car door shut against the howling storm, Tom immediately blasted the heater, turning the vents straight toward his chest. He pulled the kitten out of his hoodie and laid a soft, dry microfiber towel from his glovebox across his lap. With delicate, surprisingly nimble hands, Tom began gently rubbing the kitten down, drying off the ice-cold rainwater from its matted fur.
The kitten leaned into his touch, letting out another quiet, raspy squeak. Tom checked its tiny paws for cuts, carefully wiped away the road grime around its chin, and made sure it was warm and breathing comfortably. It nestled right into the center of the towel on his lap, the single green eye blinking up at him with sudden, quiet trust.
Satisfied that the kitten was out of immediate danger, Tom picked up his phone, tapped the dashboard mount, and hit his boyfriend's contact.
"Tom?" Ryland's voice came through the speakers, slightly tinny over the Bluetooth. "Are you driving in this? It's pouring."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, but Ry—quick question," Tom said, keeping one hand on the wheel while his other hand gently stroked the kitten's drying back as it curled on his lap. "Do you know anything about cat care?"
"Cat care?" Ryland paused, the sound of papers rustling in the background. "A bit, I suppose. Basic stuff, infection control... why? Did you adopt a cat on your way home from acting class?"
"I found one!" Tom said, glancing down with a soft smile. "It was on the side of the street in the rain. It’s tiny, brownish-grey, and it’s only got one green eye, Ry. I lured it with salami."
On the other end of the line, Ryland let out a soft, helpless laugh that made Tom’s heart do a familiar, stupid flip.
"You lured a one-eyed cat with salami? Tom, that’s... adorable. Okay, look, bring it straight over to my apartment. I'll take care of it—check the other eye socket, look for ticks, clean it up. While I do that, you can run out to the pet store and grab supplies."
"Deal. I'm five minutes away," Tom said.
When Tom pulled up to Ryland's apartment building, he wrapped the kitten securely in the towel, cradled it against his chest, and sprinted up the three flights of stairs. Ryland opened the door, his wire-rimmed glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose, looking instantly concerned.
The second Ryland saw the small, scruffy face poking out of the towel in Tom's arms, he completely melted.
"Oh, look at you," Ryland gushed, his voice dropping into a soft, impossibly gentle register. He extended his hands, taking absolute care as he cupped his palms underneath its small body and scooped the kitten up. "Oh, sweet baby... you poor, sweet little thing..."
Ryland brought the kitten right up to his chest, cradling it against his warm sweater. He immediately began pressing tiny, soft kisses to the top of its dry, fur-tufted head. "Look at those paws, Tom! And its single eye—it's like a little emerald. It’s absolute perfection. How could anyone leave a precious creature like you out in the freezing rain? You are the bravest, smartest little cat in the whole world, yes you are."
The kitten let out a high, squeaky mew, bumping its nose right against the tip of Ryland's wire-rimmed glasses.
"It booped me!" Ryland squealed, his entire face lighting up with unadulterated joy as he nuzzled his cheek against the kitten's cheek. "Tom, did you see that? It booped my glasses! I am completely in love. It is an absolute angel."
Tom couldn't help himself. Watching Ryland completely lose his mind over the tiny creature made a surge of warmth chest-deep hit him. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ryland in a big, wet hug, sandwiching the kitten safely between their chests.
"Tom! Ah—you're soaking wet!" Ryland teased, laughing as he nudged Tom back slightly with his elbow, though his expression remained utterly fond. "Don't get it wet again, I need to go run a warm bath for it right now! Go, get out of here before the pet store closes. Go get food, a bed, bowls, a litter box—the whole setup."
"On it, babe," Tom grinned, tossing a quick kiss toward the kitten before heading back out into the rain.
An hour later, Tom returned, loaded down with heavy plastic bags, a hooded litter box, and a plush navy-blue cat bed. He pushed open the door to Ryland's apartment with his elbow and stepped inside.
Setting the heavy bags down quietly on the kitchen tile, Tom carefully unboxed two ceramic food and water bowls shaped like tiny fish. He set them up in the corner, pouring fresh water into one and popping open a small can of kitten food into the other.
Carrying the ultra-plush, dark navy-blue bed under his arm, Tom walked into the dimly lit living room to show Ryland.
Ryland was sitting on his saggy futon, illuminated by the low light of the living room lamp. The kitten was entirely clean, fluffy, and brushed out, sitting squarely on Ryland's chest, purring so hard her whole tiny body vibrated as Ryland gently stroked her ears.
"Hey," Ryland whispered softly as Tom walked over. "I checked Nextdoor—no missing cat posts anywhere around here. But we still need to take her to the vet first thing tomorrow morning to check for a microchip or a family, just in case. Oh, and by the way, she's a girl."
Tom set the plush bed down on the coffee table and walked over to sit beside Ryland on the futon. "A girl, huh? Sounds good. We'll hit up the vet tomorrow. But hey... should we give her a temporary name in the meantime?"
Ryland tilted his head, watching the kitten breathe. "Sure. Got any ideas?"
"Schrödinger," Tom proposed immediately, a triumphant smirk spreading across his face. "After that ridiculous 'Schrödinger’s cat' Halloween costume you wore."
Ryland let out a bright burst of laughter, shaking his head. "Schrödinger. Perfect." He nudged Tom playfully, but as he did, his gaze drifted down to Tom's damp clothes. He frowned affectionately, suppressing a yawn. "Also... you need to go change your clothes right now, Ryder. You've been running around in the freezing rain for two hours and you're still soaking wet."
"I'm fine, Ry, I'm tough," Tom smirked, though a shiver betrayed him.
"You're drenched," Ryland insisted gently. "Go grab some dry clothes from my closet. I'll stay right here with Schrödinger."
"Alright, fine, fine," Tom chuckled, pushing himself up off the futon and tiptoeing down the hall to Ryland's bedroom. He peeled off his damp jeans and rain-soaked sweatshirt, changing into a pair of dry sweatpants and an oversized hoodie he left a week ago.
When Tom walked back into the living room just five minutes later, he froze, a wide, fond smile instantly taking over his face.
In the short time he'd been gone, the sheer exhaustion of the chaotic evening had finally caught up to Ryland. He was fast asleep, reclined back against the futon cushions with his wire-rimmed glasses sitting slightly askew on his nose. The tiny kitten was curled up into a tight, fluffy ball right in the center of Ryland's chest, purring softly as they both breathed in sync.
Tom let out a quiet chuckle to himself. He pulled out his phone, angled it carefully to capture the warm lamp lighting, Ryland's crooked glasses, and the tiny one-eyed kitten, and snapped a photo.
Walking over to the armchair, Tom grabbed a thick, knitted throw blanket. He carefully draped it over Ryland and the kitten, making sure they were both completely tucked in and warm. Then, sliding gently onto the cushion beside Ryland so as not to wake either of them, Tom stretched out his legs, rested his head against Ryland's shoulder, and let his eyes drift shut as he fell asleep.
The next morning, the local vet clinic confirmed the news: no chip, no microchip history, and no missing pet reports. Schrödinger was officially homeless—or rather, she had been, until two college students claimed her.
Sitting in the bright waiting room while the vet brought over some papers to sign, Tom snapped a selfie. Ryland was holding Schrödinger up to his face, both of them staring at the camera while Tom grinned broadly beside them.
Tom opened their core group chat—the dynamic chaos consisting of Colt, Jody, Rocky, Adrian, Carl, and Eva—and dropped the picture in.
[Tom]: Meet Schrödinger. She has one eye, zero thoughts, and two dads. We officially adopted a cat together.
The responses hit the group chat like an immediate, chaotic barrage.
[Colt]: WAIT WHAT
[Colt]: THE CAT HAS ONE EYE??? THAT IS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE
[Jody]: Oh my GOD look at her tiny green eye!! <3
[Carl]: Of course Grace named a cat Schrödinger. Of course he did.
[Rocky]: nerd name alert
[Adrian]: It’s a great name! Very fitting :)
[Jody]: Okay but hold on... you guys have been officially dating for like four WEEKS and you already adopted a child together??
[Jody]: You guys work faster than lesbians I swear to god
[Rocky]: get the u-haul ready
[Colt]: watch next week they're gonna move in together to make it “easier for the cat”
[Eva]: I approve of this domestic milestone. Ensure baby Schrödinger receives proper vaccinations.
Sitting on the bench in the clinic, Tom and Ryland read through the incoming messages, both of them wheezing with laughter.
"They're never going to let us hear the end of this," Ryland chuckled, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses.
"Let them talk," Tom smiled, leaning over to gently scratch Schrödinger behind her soft ears as she purred in Ryland's arms. "I’m gonna make sure this cat lives like an absolute queen. Only the best gourmet wet food, the finest scratching posts, top-tier amenities."
Ryland looked up at Tom, his eyes warm and hopelessly affectionate. "Of course she will," he soft-smiled. "I just know you’ll make sure of it."
Tom rested his arm along the back of the clinic bench, slanting a low, thoroughly appreciative look sideways at Ryland. "You know... I gotta say, Ry. Seeing you go full protective dad-mode over a four-pound kitten is doing terrible things to my heart."
Ryland blinked, his cheeks instantly warming to a light pink behind his wire-rimmed glasses. "It's called basic animal welfare, Ryder. Responsible caretaking."
"Right, right, responsible caretaking," Tom murmured, leaning in just close enough that his lips brushed against Ryland's ear, making Ryland's shoulders tense up in the best way possible. "No matter what, it’s extremely hot. You're dangerously cute when you get like this."
"Tom, we are in a vet's waiting room," Ryland said firmly, adjusting his glasses furiously to hide how flustered he was. "Stop trying to seduce me over a cat."
"Hey, I'm just making an honest observation," Tom grinned, pulling back slightly to flash that effortless, infuriatingly charming smile of his. "Besides, it's working."
Ryland rolled his eyes, though a playful, sly smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he turned to face Tom. "Oh, please. You talk big, but do you have any idea how you sounded on the phone yesterday?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "I sounded totally cool and collected."
"You sounded like a frantic, panicked father whose newborn was in mortal danger," Ryland teased, leaning his shoulder against Tom's with a quiet laugh. "'Ry, quick question, do you know anything about cat care?!' Your voice went up an entire octave! I knew the second you called that you'd completely lost your heart to a tiny one-eyed cat—and honestly? Seeing a big, tough actor turn into a softie over a baby kitten was the cutest thing I've ever heard."
Tom let out a soft laugh, his cheeks warming just a bit as he bumped his shoulder right back against Ryland's. "Alright, fine. Maybe I panicked a little."
"A lot," Ryland corrected sweetly, his smile widening.
"A lot," Tom conceded softly, his eyes locking onto Ryland's with unabashed fondness as he pulled him in closer. "But hey... at least it got me a great cat. And a pretty amazing boyfriend to share her with."
Once they finally got back to Ryland's apartment, Schrödinger immediately decided she was feeling much bolder now that she had two new owners and a belly full of vet-approved treats.
Tom carried her plastic travel crate inside and popped the wire door open. Instead of sauntering out gracefully, Schrödinger launched herself forward at top speed, misjudged the edge of the doorway, and clipped her little hip against the plastic, sending herself tumbling onto the living room rug in a clumsy roll.
"Whoa!" Tom gasped, dropping to his knees. "Are you okay, tiny?"
Schrödinger popped right back up, shook her entire body so hard her ears flapped loudly, and sprinted straight under the coffee table. Ryland leaned over from the futon, trying to track her progress. "I think her depth perception is still a bit of a work in progress with the one eye."
"A work in progress is putting it nicely," Tom laughed.
Within minutes, Schrödinger had discovered the existence of empty paper bags. Tom had left one of the pet store bags sitting upright on the floor. Schrödinger waddled up to it, reared back on her hind legs like a miniature stallion, and pounced directly into the bag. The bag immediately tipped sideways under her tiny weight, trapping her inside.
For ten hilarious seconds, Tom and Ryland watched as a brown paper bag randomly skittered across the hardwood floor, emitting furious, squeaky mews as Schrödinger aggressively fought her way out of the handles.
"Wait, don't help her yet, I need a video," Tom whispered, pulling out his phone.
"Tom, she's trapped in a shopping bag!" Ryland protested, though he was wheezing with laughter, holding his hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.
Before either of them could intervene, Schrödinger successfully wiggled her head out of the opening, looked around as if to confirm no one had seen her blunder, and immediately attacked a rogue dust bunny under the TV stand to save face.
Her grand finale came an hour later. Ryland had set a small feather wand toy on the arm of the futon. Schrödinger crouched low on the carpet, her little rear end wiggling violently in the air as she prepared to leap. She launched herself toward the sofa cushion with incredible force—and completely missed the seat, face-planting directly into the side of the futon with a soft thud before sliding gracefully onto her back.
Ryland buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as he dissolved into quiet, breathless giggles. "She is... she is an absolute menace."
Tom leaned back against the floor, looking from the utterly unbothered kitten—who was now aggressively biting her own back paw—to his laughing boyfriend. "Zero thoughts, Ry. Absolutely zero thoughts in that fuzzy little head. But man, I wouldn't trade her for the world."