[Yandere Meowscarada x Reader] I'll Make Them All Disappear!

76 | Gate Zero

The world rolls out like a strip of film below you. Buildings fade to earth, earth fades to water, water fades to icy-white clouds. The smell of musty baggage and old fabric intoxicates your senses, sending you falling back into memories of the times you'd sleep over at your grandma's place, surrounded by clocks and dolls galore. You can't help but remember the smell of the house all that time ago; leather, wool, and polyester coming together in an amalgamation of nostalgic aromas—incense and savory foods (granny really could cook up a storm), that which frequently lulled you easily to sleep at night, even when the soulless stares of those dolls felt unyielding.

You try not to let yourself get too buried in these thoughts and focus on the window to your side. By now, the plane has lifted high enough in the air for the pilot to announce over the comms that the metal bird will now be stabilizing, that anyone boarded is now free to head to the restroom if needed, and high enough for the clouds to spread out beneath your eyes like a floor of puffy white candy. You breathe, satisfied, not exactly with your seating situation currently but with the calmness of the plane and how you feel you might be able to sit here and think awhile without any disruptions.

But, well, that's just not possible. Not with a quivering Meowscarada in your lap. She clings onto you for dear life, like letting go will be the end of her, the end of this airplane.

"You said you'd toughen up," you whisper in her ear. "What happened to being a big cat?"

"I-I am a big cat," she bites back in an even lower whisper, making sure your neighbors don't hear a peep out of her. "I'm just cold, is all." You grin. Not buying it. She's been shivering ever since you got off the ground. The second the plane lifted an inch or two, she curled up in your lap, wrapped her arms around your neck and started slinging prayers.

You're only in this position because this airline does not offer seating for Pokémon (so much for living in peace and harmony with magical creatures), at least not in this cabin anyway. Up in first class, maybe, but you haven't fact-checked. Actually, you seem to be the only trainer in this particular cabin with their Pokémon out of the ball. And that's only because, when the flight attendants first told you about the no-Pokémon policies, Meowscarada stared them down with murderous pink eyes mid-talk.

"Ease up on my neck," you say, "unless you're trying to choke me."

"Keep talking and I will choke you. I'm staying right here because I'm—"

"Scared of heights?"

"Pssh! As if! Shut up and hold me, that's all you have to do, Master."

"Hey, hey." Penny's voice. You peek through the narrow gap in the seats at the four-eyed fanatic behind you, watching her chow down on a pack of airplane peanuts. "Want some?"

"No thanks," you say.

"Ask Kieran."

To your left, before you can even ask him, Kieran gently shakes his head, his eyes glued to the movie screen embedded in the seat ahead of him. You give the screen a quick peek to see what he's watching. A documentary about the history of Galar—odd, you never thought the battle-hardy boy would be interested in anything other than training tips or videos (that may or may not exist somewhere out there in the world) about how to crush your opponent's Meowscarada.

You look back toward Penny and shake your head on Kieran's behalf. "He said no thanks."