Before my parents' disdain came into full view, they were cruel in subtler ways.

From snide remarks over interests they didn't approve of me pursuing, to the silent treatment when things didn't go their way, I was always left to feel like that house I lived in wasn't mine. It was theirs, and I was only allowed to borrow that space until they decided that it was time for me to pay the debt.

And at ten, when I got my palm split open down the middle by a terrified kitten I was trying to rescue from an unfinished construction site, my father had cleaned up the wound with his mouth set in a grim line and my mother watching over his shoulder with a frown that looked like concern instead of exasperation to me back then, and said:

"This is why we wouldn't allow a cat in the house, see?" With a click of her tongue, she had returned to her copy of The Magus like looking away from the pages had bothered her more than the drying blood on the carpet. "Just think about the pain the next time you ask for one."

It felt like love then, because it was familiar.

Even if it instilled an unbudging fear of cats inside my head.

But now, as I get on my haunches and slowly reach for the little animal with the same hand that bears the scar, the memory feels glazed over from Dr. Morgan telling me, "The thing about starving children, Sky, is that they will eat anything."

The tips of my fingers meet the soft fur of his head, and the corners of my lips lift involuntarily when his eyes fall close for a split second like he can't quite help himself.

"How did you get in here, hm?" I experimentally scratch a spot behind his ear, and am rewarded with a faint rumble against my skin as his harvest moon eyes disappear behind his lids again. I look around the living room, trying to check for spaces he could have gotten in from, and find nothing. "You've got your owners all worried."

For a second, I contemplate whether or not I should pick him up at the risk of ending up with a matching scar on my other hand, and quickly decide that I can't leave him here to get Noah and Chloe only to come back and find him gone.

"Okay," I breathe out, movements cagey as the fingers of my other hand meet the side of his neck. "Okay, please don't bite my finger off." He seems calm enough, but his big, watchful eyes tell me that could change the second he decided he no longer wanted a stranger this close. "I come in peace," I mutter, and he tilts his head to one side like he gets it.

Oh, my God, I think, when my hands tighten enough around his plush fur to meet skin. "I'm just... going to pick you up. Yeah. I'm going to pick you up so we can get you back home." I feel him tense and a startled noise makes its way out of my throat. "Oh, my God," I squeak, but don't let go. "Oh, my God. Ohmygod." I set my hands under his arms to pick him up without getting on my feet, and for a couple seconds, he just stares at me — legs and tail hanging limp above the floor.

"You good?" I whisper, leaning back. Just a little.

He meows back once in response.

I deflate and hang my head in relief. "Okay. Okay, that... wasn't the most stressful moment of my life at all."

When I push myself to my feet, he continues to peer up at me so intently that I hesitate again before pulling him close so I can hold him better. I breathe in deeply, and then let it out with a whoosh once I'm sure I'm going to walk out of this situation without gaining new scars.

When I turn and open the door, he presses the side of his face into the dip of my collarbone before raising a paw to nudge at the lock of escaped hair hanging in front of my face. The movement is tame, like I'm a scared animal, and I blink down at the cat before a surprised giggle bubbles out of me.

The tension in my shoulders goes down when I make my way out through the door, straight to the elevator to get to the thirteenth floor. If I'm lucky, I think, looking down at Cheese to find him staring at the lit-up buttons on the panel, they would be checking the roof right about now.

"What if you aren't the cat they're looking for?" I murmur, mostly to myself, shaking my head in amusement at the idea. There's a very slim chance of that happening, considering the little thing in my arms has a thin collar around its neck and is white — which I assume is the reason behind his name, but the thought is still a bit funny.

It does, although, get a little less funny when I wonder what I'm going to do with a lost cat if it isn't theirs.

When the elevator doors open, I stare down the empty hallway, ready to take the stairs when I hear two familiar voices from above.

"— a lot of places we haven't checked, Clo. It's okay, we'll find him..." Noah's voice trails off because of a wail, and I quickly make my way to the bottom of the stairs to find him round the landing to tread down the last set.

Chloe is sitting on his shoulders, face scrunched up in anguish.

I clear my throat to announce my presence. "It's about to get very awkward if this isn't your cat."

My chest feels like it's about to burst with tenderness when she gasps at my words and then cries his name, struggling in Noah's hold. "Put me down! Uncle Noah —"

"Not on the stairs, you little menace," he says, but his voice comes out like a sigh of relief. He takes hold of her sides, hoists her up like she weighs nothing, and sets her on her feet when he's descended the last step.

"Cheeeeeeese," she squeaks again, her voice getting so high-pitched that it echoes and bounces off the hallway walls as I lean down to hand her the cat that is yet to react to the commotion. He goes to her easily, and my eyes soften at the sight of Chloe hugging him close to her chest and burying her face in his fur.

"As long as it looks like him, I suppose," Noah comments after a moment, and I snicker before turning to find him already looking at me with a one-dimpled grin and — oh.

I've been told often that I can come off as slightly intimidating to people that don't know me well, until I smile, because it makes me look like an entirely different person. But I never really understood it. Not fully, anyway. So I always wondered: How big of a difference can it make, really?

And now I'm left to eat my own words because the answer to that question is — pretty damn big, actually.

His smile is nothing less than a cosmic force.

It illuminates his face like a starry sky; teeth shining against the backdrop of a perfectly dimpled cheek, eyes curved into warm crescent moons. The creases above his cheekbones tell me that this is a common expression on his face, and I wonder if other people are usually just as starstruck over it as I am.

He's had a fairly neutral expression on his face the first two times I met him briefly, but now I'm internally fumbling for words like this is my first time coming across an attractive man.

"Clo," he scolded good-naturedly, making me blink out of the mini-daze. "Say thank you."

Chloe raises her head from where she had it tucked against Cheese's fur and hops once like a bunny before facing me. "Thank you, Miss Sky."

I scrunch my nose fondly at the way she addresses me despite what I told her earlier. "You're welcome, Miss Chloe."

She collapses against Noah's leg in giggles, the tears completely forgotten.

"Thank you. Seriously. I was beginning to get really worried," he says to me, leaning down to scratch behind the cat's ear before setting a hand on top of Chloe's head. "Where did you find him?"

"He was in my apartment. I didn't do anything, so there's no need to thank me." I snort. "I'm just glad I didn't accidentally abduct someone else's cat." I watch Chloe set Cheese down and crouch in front of him, now talking to him in a low voice like he's a person. "Good choice on the name, though, because I had no idea what he looked like."

"Oh, uh..." When I look back at Noah, he purses his lips like he's trying not to laugh. "Chloe didn't name him Cheese because he's white."

I dip my head to one side curiously. "Oh?"

"We have a family dog," he says slowly, raising his eyebrows like he's warning me beforehand for what he's about to add. "His name is Mac."

Blinking a few times, I glance at Chloe to find her already peeking up at me from behind Cheese's head.

"That's... okay, so she's a funny kid," I settle with, eventually, and watch Noah press his knuckles to his lips in my peripheral vision, probably to hide the clear amusement from his niece.

"She's got a sense of humor, if nothing else. Also —" He offers his hand politely, a smidgen of sheepishness slipping into his beaming smile. "—Noah Hill. I live on the seventh floor and haven't really had the chance to properly meet the other residents yet."

"Skylar Ren." I shake his hand with an acknowledging nod and a half-smile in return. "I have lived on the second floor for the past eight years and haven't had the chance to meet other people either."

The crinkles at the corners of his eyes become visible again as he chuckles and pulls his hand back. "And here I was worried I came across as rude because I didn't introduce myself the first two times."

"Oh, you're fine. This place is —" I get cut off by the sound of River's ringtone blaring through my phone, "—paradise for the social recluse," I finish with a small, apologetic smile in Noah's direction as I fish out the ringing device from my pocket and wave it between us after glancing at the screen once."I gotta take this. I guess I'll see you around?"

"Don't count on it," he jokes with a grin, slipping his hands into his pockets as I start to walk backward with an amused lilt to my lips. To Chloe, he says, "Say goodbye."

"Goodbye," she singsongs, giving me a toothy smile when I wave at her. Then she headbutts Noah on the hip to get his attention. "Up," I hear her demand once he looks down at her, and I can see him arch an eyebrow at her before I take another step back to leave.

"And who's going to hold the cat?"

I can imagine the twinkle in her eye before the mischievous smile comes around. "You."

"Absolutely not, but good effort." He sets his hand down on her head and forces her to turn around, and she does so giggling. "If you've forgotten how to walk, I can remind you again. Left foot forward, and then right..."

Chloe's titters ring in the hallway before they get in the elevator and the doors close in front of them.

"My Skylar senses were tingling," is the first thing River says when I pick up the phone and hold it to my ear, and I head my head with a huff before deciding to just take the steps to the roof to talk to him.

"You don't have Skylar senses, Riv, you're just worried something went wrong because I didn't call or text you to help me choose a dress for the housewarming at Meera's."

He makes an offended noise on the other end. "Those are my Skylar senses!"

The chuckle gets stuck somewhere in my throat now that I'm reminded of what my plans for the day were supposed to be before Meera called me last night and flipped my life around. I tap the railing with the tips of my fingers to a mental beat that I can't quite recall properly as I make my way up.

"Hey," he murmurs, and I hear the sound of a door shutting somewhere behind him. "Did something happen?"

I rub a hand down the side of my face and sit down at the last stair. "Could you drive me to Layla's place for the get-together thing she invited me to?" I ask, because I know that if I spend a few more hours alone with my thoughts, I'm going to drive myself to insanity. "I told her that I'll meet her tomorrow, but I'm not doing anything today, after all." River stays silent, but I know his worry is beginning to grow louder and louder with each passing second, so I add, "I'll tell you what happened on our way there."

a/n

thank you for reading!

not doing onc this year hurt my heart a little, but i think i have other important things to focus on so next year, i suppose :')