Starco : Bad Boy Turns Into A Cat

Ch 4 : You're The Intruder Yet I Sleep At The Floor?!

"Fuck you."

That word could either mean a lot of things. It could be your weird declaration of love towards someone or one's way of getting into your pants.

But I'm pretty sure this pussy cat wouldn't mean either of that.

He glares at the cat bowl with mushy sardines on it then flickered his gaze on mine with utter revolt. One more move and he'll probably slam the dang cat bowl in my face.

"You're welcome."

I smirked, feeding off his frustrations. I'm not a sadistic, but I might be when I'll be living with this jerk. "You wanted food right? It's right in front of you."

He kicked the darn cat bowl, making the contents inside shift but remain on the bowl anyway. He clicks his tongue, eyes piercing deathly glares at me. "You're expecting me to eat this? Are you bashit crazy? Do I look like an animal to you?"

I propped a hand under my chin, thinking deeply then puckered my lips. "Why, yes. You are an animal, aren't you?"

"You want some milk with that, kitty?" I mused.

"Fuck you," he gritted under his teeth, snarling.

"What's the matter, Pedro? Is your tummy hurting?" I pretended to be worried, furrowing my brows and pouting. "--do you want a belly rub? Oh yeah, I've heard cats hate that."

"You're being petty right now," he snarled.

"Am I?" I blinked. Then I frowned, crossing my arms as I glared at him. "--is it too obvious? Out of all the animals, did it have to be a cat?"

"A darn cat! I hate cats!" I screamed, ballistic. "--and I was right. Cats truly hated me! Because you're a prime example of that!"

He sneered. "Chill your tits, woman. Don't involve me in your personal issues."

I scoffed, turning my heel and headed towards my desk, seeing the stacked up papers and scribbles written on it.

Yes, I am an aspiring writer. And yes, I may not look like it, but I do love to write. It's my hobby; my passion and I've been writing as long as I could remember.

It all probably started on that one anime I've watched. Since then, I've been posting some of my stories online and while a few have just read it, I was happy at least someone appreciates it. Making characters alive and seeing their progress along the way was what I lived for.

People would laugh at me when I said I loved to write. They probably think someone as clumsy and naive like me, couldn't be bothered to pick up a pen and write an entire story.

I'll prove you all damn wrong.

"So Pedro, aren't your parents worried about you?" I inquired, shifting my attention to the doodles I've be drawing the past week. I'm learning anatomy and it sucks like balls.

"It's not like I care, but your parents might," I muttered.

He clicked his tongue in distaste, shifting his body around that made the bed creak. "I have no parents."

I paused, surprised to hear this from him. I mean I've only known him for an hour yet he speaks of something as personal as that like it wasn't a big deal. I clutch my palm on the blade of the chair. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For asking," I breathed. I couldn't even faced him right now. Maybe he's like this because he misses his parents. Maybe.