Trevor crouched down, then extended his arm for a finger sniff, should the cat be so inclined.
The cat was, although it took a few moments to admit it. But cats who had never been mistreated or even mildly inconvenienced in their lives were more trusting than cats who’d had to deal with screaming, excitable children or dramatic life changes. This cat was G.G.’s treasured, pampered angel baby.
The unnamed angel baby allowed only a brief finger sniff and Trevor didn’t risk a scratch by trying to check the name on the collar. He stood up again once it started eating, and said, “Your dad will be home soon, I think,” because soothing words helped most animals.
Then, not wanting to be even more of a weirdo, he left, locking up behind him.
“What am I supposed to do with this information?” Trevor complained through his laptop to Sky, who rolled his eyes without slowing his typing for whatever work he was doing. Probably talking to his coworkers in his workplace group chat. He was responsible even when he was working from home. Of course, he was also in boxers and no shirt and had a Kurosawa film playing on one of his other computer screens.
Sky lived alone yet hadn’t decorated his apartment much. He noticed so much about the world but certain things wouldn’t occur to him unless prompted, like making his home attractive and comfortable. He had shelves of haphazardly stacked books and boxes of board games, a few posters, and artwork Trevor had done for him up in black-and-glass frames with matting that Trevor thought was a waste of money but Sky had had done anyway.
He had a big desk with several monitors for work and for gaming, and a chair designed for maximum comfort while on a computer. He also had a couch but only because Trevor had told him to get one.
“You need a comfy place to rest on sometimes,” Trevor had said, brooking no argument because Sky could afford it and then some, and he needed ahome, not only an apartment. “And what if you have company over?”
Sky had given Trevor a knowing look, but a red couch had appeared in his living room a week later. It seemed ridiculous with no other furniture, but more importantly, it looked comfortable. Trevor had ordered Sky some decorative pillows and a blanket as a reward, then told him to get a kitchen table with at least one chair next.
Of course, getting Sky to eat was another thing. He did eat… when he remembered to. And he didn’t cook, which meant a lot of instant noodles were involved.
He had food at the moment, at least. Well, a bag of chips and some sort of smoothie with a delivery receipt stuck to the bottom. Trevor noted the name on the smoothie cup and made a note to see if that restaurant sold gift cards online.
“G.G. definitely either made that stuff himself or paid to have it specially made,” Trevor continued to whine. “What kind of soft nerd? I should think of him as a weird cat lady but I can’t.”
Sky muttered something to himself that his laptop microphone didn’t pick up completely, partially drowned out by Sky’s suddenly ferociously clacky typing, although it sounded like, “Maybe because soft nerds are your type.”
“He adores his cats—cat,” Trevor rolled on, absently sketching Sky’s hands. If the rest of Sky was not in motion, then his hands were. Trevor had had to hold them down more than once before upgrading to cloth bindings and then padded cuffs. He still had those cuffs. He kept meaning to send them up to Sky but it hadn’t happened yet. Sky’s toys were in a box with the rest of Trevor’s stuff and would stay there for now. If Trevor needed cuffs for someone else, he would buy new ones. “He had the best quality stuff for them. I approve.”
“So you said. Several times.” Sky reached over to grab a tablet, shivering slightly as if the air over his bare skin was cold.
“You need a sweater or a shirt,” Trevor said quietly. Or to turn up the heat, but that would involve getting out of his chair. Sky still had not adjusted to the cooler climate of his new home, always expecting to feel hot in his clothes and then being surprised that his apartment was actually freezing.
Sky paused. Trevor took advantage of his brief stillness to study him better: the short but elaborately styled pouf of blue hair above an undercut. Wide, wire-framed glasses falling down his snub nose. Bitten, brown lips with some purple smoothie at one corner. Bags beneath eyes the color of espresso beans. Goosebumps along chubby upper arms. Tight nipples. Scars from top surgery below a healthy patch of hair.
Trevor dragged his gaze back up. “And sleep,” he added critically. “But put on a shirt or something first. Do you have a blanket nearby?”
Sky shivered and typed faster until he must have finished whatever he’d been composing. Then he reached down for a zippered sweatshirt that had fallen to the floor and slipped it over his shoulders.
Trevor dropped his attention to his sketchbook and Sky went back to typing.
“So,” Sky began evenly as if they hadn’t been interrupted by Trevor being pushy. “The hot neighbor who bled on your porch has a cat and you are just now realizing you have a problem.”
“I have no idea what his name is.” Trevor was possibly whining again. “The whole thing is weird.”
Sky frowned a little and stopped typing long enough to scratch his slight stubble. “I’m confused,” he said. “More explanation please?”
“The guy next door,” Trevor explained as requested even though he’d already said this. “Asked us to check on his cat. I don’t know his name, only his initials. I went in his house. He’s got a million books, mostly paperbacks, and none of them looked like fantasy, at least not from where I was. Though there might be some sci-fi.” He perked up at the thought, then shook his head. That was more Sky’s area anyway. “The room was gray but agoodgray. And purple! And green! Excellent color sense until the beige walls and the old linoleum… and the blood.” Rusty and turning brown except for the mess in the sink, which had still been wet in places. “He tried to clean up his blood before going to the hospital. He thought of hiscatfirst, Sky. He should have someone to call on.”
“Ah.” Sky didn’t volunteer anything else for several strangely tense moments. “I got the paints you sent me. You know I make a ton now, right? But thank you. They’re exactly what I need.”
Sky, with his big brain, was saying something by mentioning the paints.
Hedidmake a lot more money than Trevor. He made more than Trevor’s brother, who was a lawyer, even if no one looking at Sky’s apartment would have guessed that Sky hadbank. But Sky was a genius who was great at his job and, shockingly, the company he worked for paid him accordingly.
“Well, you’re in your apartment all the time, and you get bored, and you always have miniatures to paint.” Trevor tapped his pencil against his sketchpad. He’d also sent Sky some boxes of tea but clearly should have sent food. “Is that smoothie all you’ve had today?”
“See?” Sky asked, glancing to the screen that held Trevor’s face. “You know me and you can still be pushy—generous. In fact, it only made you pushier, knowing me. You can’t help it. It’s the same with your hot, older neighbor with his tasteful living room, or will be, providing he doesn’t object.” Sky turned away again, back to the tablet, although he wasn’t typing anything. “It’s about time you had someone for that. Probably. I don’t know.”
“I haven’t been pushy with him.” Trevor narrowed his eyes. “We’ve barely spoken. And he’s at least a decade older than me.”
