His Kitten

01

| C A I N |

"Hey kitty kitty. You hungry?" Emerson asked, yawning from his seat in the kitchen.

Cain nodded his head and rubbed up against Emerson's legs. Cain was absolutely famished. Emerson patted his head before pulling him up into his lap.

The cat set its paws onto the edge of the table, examining what Emerson had to offer. On a plate laid Emerson's crumbs and Cain mewled in disappointment. He had expected more, but he guessed he really couldn't complain too much. Cain began slowly lapping up the glaze of the doughnut Emerson had had for breakfast. Once the plate was as clean as a whistle, Cain turned on Emerson's lap and started licking up any leftovers on his fingers.

Emerson laughed as his hands were free of his breakfast's crumbs. Cain continued to lick Emerson's fingers, which caused Emerson to smile. This was common practice for Cain. He just liked to lick Emerson's fingers. Emerson has gotten used to it and didn't mind it much. He pet his cat's head before placing him on the ground.

"Sorry, Cain, but I gotta go to school," Emerson said, sighing heavily. He stood up, heading for the door, but Cain wasn't having any of it.

Cain hissed before launching himself at Emerson's legs. He hated it when Emerson left, and they went through this routine every day. Emerson would say he had to go to school and Cain would try with great effort to keep him back. He would yowl. He would whine. He would throw a huge fit. All in the attempt to keep Emerson home with him. And everyday he failed. Cain didn't give up hope, though.

"Oh, shush, you fat hairball. I have to. Only a year left, bud," Emerson insisted, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.

Emerson was a senior in Westfield High School. He was honestly surprised he had made it that far. He was 17, turning 18 soon. Cain couldn't wait until Emerson was out of that 'h*llhole', as Emerson called it.

     Emerson bent down, planting a kiss on Cain before plucking him from his legs and sitting him down on the floor again. Cain pouted, glaring at his owner. Emerson did a small hand wave before rushing out the door.

     Cain grumpily stalked over to his food bowl. Brownish-red pellets sat in a pile. Cain contemplated starving or eating the disgusting substance in front of him which was supposedly 'food'. Cain scoffed. Whoever thought that cats actually liked this was dead wrong.

     Shutting his eyes, Cain's stomach won. He dug into the mound of pellets, swallowing the nasty aftertaste. It was revolting and he almost couldn't believe he had just put himself through that. He washed it down with a long gulp of water.

His stomach now full, Cain padded into Emerson's room, leaping onto his bed. It was a bit of a struggle, but he managed. Cain rolled around in his sheets, embracing the heavenly scent of something sugary, Emerson loved his sweets, and an earthy smell, like the forest. It was an interesting mix of scents. Cain just buried his face into the comforter. It drove Cain over the edge, as he started mewling in yearning for Emerson. He missed him so much already. It physically hurt him to be away from Emerson too long.

Even though he had only left a little over half an hour before, Cain missed him like crazy. He hated not being able to snuggle up against Emerson. He hated not being able to steal his food. He hated not being able to cuddle with him.

Thoughts of Emerson swirled in the cat's head as it drifted off into sleep, the warm sunlight from the window washing over him.

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Cain jumped as something slammed against the bedroom door. He leapt from the bed. Scared, Cain crawled under Emerson's nightstand. In crashed his handsome owner, mumbling something as he collapsed on his bed.

      This wasn't necessarily an unusual occurrence. Emerson came home late and drunk often. More often then he'd probably like to admit. Especially considering underaged drinking was illegal and he was supposed to be a leader one day.

Cain sneaked out from his hiding spot and leapt up onto the mattress. He examined Emerson, making sure he wasn't hurt. He cuddled up against Emerson once he was sure it was alright, ignoring the musky scent of alcohol on his body.

"Mmm... Kitty soft," Emerson slurred, hugging Cain to his chest, which Cain didn't mind in the slightest. Cain probably wouldn't mind if Emerson accidentally squeezed him to death.

Emerson ran his hand through Cain's fur back and forth, making Cain arch his back in pleasure. He liked being pet by Emerson.

"You- you shoulda saw- what's her face?- when I- when I told her she was a- was a sl*t," Emerson laughed drunkenly.

Cain pawed at Emerson's chest as he continued to scratch Cain's back. Meows of approval came from Cain. He didn't fully understand what Emerson was saying, but he couldn't complain about being touched in all the right spots.

Emerson sighed. He looked the fluffy feline straight in the eye. The cat didn't dare blink as he stared into the depths of Emerson's soul.

"Sometimes I feel like you are the only person who understands. I know, silly, talking to a fat cat that never seems to age," Emerson chuckled.

"But I feel like you know what I'm talking about. Like you feel my pain," Emerson's voice cracked.

All Cain wanted to do was make Emerson feel all better. He wanted to just swipe away his pain. He wanted to tear away his sorrow. Cain whimpered along with Emerson.

"When- when dad died, I just wanted to end my life. But I didn't. I think something inside me was telling me to stay- to stay with you," Emerson smiled faintly, stroking Cain's chin.

      It all seemed ridiculous said out loud, but it was the truth. Sometimes people only needed one reason to live. Cain was Emerson's reason.

Cain purred, turning his head. He wished he could speak to Emerson and tell him how much he cared. But that was worthless hoping. He shuddered as he remembered what happened the last time.

Vowing to never do it again, Cain crawled further up Emerson's chest. He started to lick at Emerson's face, taking extra long slurps here and there. Covering his face in wet kitten kisses,
Emerson genuinely smiled. A grin stretched across his lips that was so real it hurt.

Cain was the best cat he could ask for, even though he usually acted like a kitten. Emerson pulled Cain even closer somehow, and held him with all his might.

If it wasn't for Cain, the razor in Emerson's drawer wouldn't be rusting up. If it wasn't for Cain, Emerson would have given up long before. If it wasn't for Cain, Emerson would have become a shell like his mother. If it wasn't for Cain, Emerson wouldn't still be up and breathing.

Emerson and Cain had no one but each other...