Love is an Empty Plate

AKJHSDGFIAUFHGVOUHBADOFUV WHY WON’T HE WAKE THE FUCK UP AND GET ME SOME GODDAMN WET FOOD.

My precious nails hurt from all the pawing. Re-etching the marks from mornings before, before, before. Chipping away the emerald green paint on the door to reveal all the dead trees underneath. Doesn’t he know he’s starving me? Doesn’t he care? I know for a fact it’s not because he can’t afford my Kal Kan. He springs a new obnoxious potted plant in MY house every fucking week, give me a fucking break. He’s lazy, entitled, selfish, greedy, self-indulgent, fucking human that one day DECIDED to take me away from frolicking the pastures that consume Kyoto, Japan. I loathe him, and he’s asleep. 

I claw harder and faster with only one goal: get fed. I make this disgusting noise, unfamiliar to my vocal chords, to get his attention. I resort to pacing the length of the crack under his door. My nails, weak; spirit faltering, and stomach empty. My tail anxiously hung, hoping for any movement in the other room. The silence sits like a chandelier on its last chain. 

I finally hear some rustling bed sheets so I screech at the hope for food. He grumbles and sprawls his covers as I await the gates. Each footstep thuds closer to me. Yes, Yes, Yes! The Groggy Half Conscious Monster Awakes! 

The door creaks from rusted hinges but I don’t care. It’s wide open now and I peek at the slightly disheveled room. The few possessions he has are slightly tilted to the left, making it just noticeable enough. The sunlight beams through windows that eat up most of his wall across his low-sitting bed. The wind pickles up at just the right time, fluttering the baby blue curtains that frame his portal to the Outside. It’s like the songs he plays for me every night. Memories of his vintage guitar, currently knocked off the axis of the stand. There’s a stark contrast of the dark wooden bookshelf to the light filled room. The onyx altar brimming with all the memories and stories he could fit in his suitcase many years ago. The floors are shiny and bouncy to the morning glow. Mismatched socks sprinkled over the ground, but somehow everything is where it’s supposed to be. 

I ALMOST got distracted from the task at hand. FOCUS YUKI! There’s no time for this! You can lay on the warm sunbeams AFTER you eat. Hikaru, posted at the door, faintly whispers “おはよう、私の甘い王子様、 ” (Good morning my sweet prince). He crutches down to pat the top of my head two times before giving me one long stroke across my back. His fingers are so fucking cold jesus christ. Nevertheless I nuzzle under his touch, purely to sweeten him up for the sake of food. “FEED ME” I transmit through my nudges. He laughs as he straightens up, towering over me. We all know who the REAL boss is though don’t we. Life is about power, and in this case, I have him wrapped around my tail. I lick my lips and stretch my jaw, preparing to eat the whole world if I have to. I prance ahead towards my dining table. He chuckles again and shakes his head as he follows.

“神様、おなかがすいていませんか。ごめんね、昨夜遅くまで小さな曲を書いていたんだけど許してほしい,” (My god, aren’t you hungry. Sorry buddy I was writing my little songs so late last night, I hope you can forgive me.) He says a bit clearer. I can’t forgive him just yet, and he knows. He always knows. I meow once to tell him to shut the fuck up and make me my goddamn food. If I had opposable thumbs and could walk upright, I would’ve done it myself by now. 

He opens the magical cabinet and I swear, I see some pixie dust cascade over the marble counters. He pulls a single tin from the cupboard and reaches down for my dining bowl. He scrapes every last bit into the dish (as he should) and sprinkles a little bit of magic on top. He doesn’t keep many things from me, but this is the one thing I’ll never know. And that’s ok with me. As long as he keeps doing it forever and ever and ever. 

He does his signature spin and reveals the final product with his arms open wide and a glimmering smile plastered over his face. “愛してます、” (I love you) He boasts. I lick my lips to keep the drool from dribbling out. 

“Put down the fucking plate NOW”, I want to scream. He finishes his bit and gently places my meal in the empty metal disc where it belongs. I ravage. Everything around me stops and time around me doesn’t exist. All I can think about is the fish bits melting in my tongue and the flavor explosion happening in my wee little brain. I die and come back to life. 

Gone too soon, I realize I've licked the plate clean. Appetite insatiable, but that held me over for now. Hikaru, now teleported to the living room, is lounged across the elongated, forest green couch. I strut over, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. No longer afraid of my reflection, I’ve become quite vain to be frank. I have these beautiful oceanic hazel-green eyes, and puddles of colors that coat my body. Short haired, with swirls of ginger molasses, dark gray, and ink black. I am a sight for sore eyes, no wonder Hikaru chose me. 

I make my way to Hikaru for my long awaited apology. To be fair, you should never take anything I say seriously when I’m hungry. I never meant any of the things I said and, surprise, do feel a little guilty for my thoughts. It’s easier knowing he never holds anything against me, even for that time I peed on his pillow, or that other time too. That’s besides the point, I’m saying sorry now and that’s all that matters. 

I crawl over his lap and under his warm embrace. I do love him. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s a weird, fleshy, monstrous, human, but he’s mine. As he caresses me from my face through my tail, I send healing vibrations from my soul, to his. The loud buzz drowns out the static of the world around us. We are love, we are loving, we love.