AN: I wrote this one in school, because I'm completely sick with absolutely no will to actually pay attention. So here we are.

I got this idea out of nowhere on the bus. It made me sad. ):

Your reviews mean the world to me! Keep 'em coming, if you will. It's so inspiring to me, you have no idea. :D

By the way, this is going to update at completely random times. My schedule is absolutely nuts, so there'll probably be times where I don't update for a week, and then there'll be times where I do a few updates in a single day. WELCOME TO HELL, FIC-WATCHERS. :D


When they had first met, all three of them had doubted their ability to adapt to one another. Liz and Patty lie on one side of the spectrum in both class and personality; Kid sat on an island he had made for himself miles and miles away. It was impossible to close up a hole like that.

Instead, they would have to build a bridge.


"What the Hell is that thing?" Kid wrinkled his nose at the wet, trembling bundle of fur in Patty's arms. It was a shivery little thing, so covered in mud and matted fur that he couldn't tell what it even was at first glance, and if it hadn't been shaking he would've assumed she'd picked up an armful of roadkill. In truth, he was a little blindsided - they hadn't even been in his home for two months and already they were dragging animals in? Did she seriously think he would enjoy its company?

Patty giggled brightly.

"It's a kitty, Kid!" She extended her arms and put the filthy thing right in front of him, and he turned his face away, thoroughly disgusted. A kitty, huh? It looked more like a drowned rat.

It was absolutely pathetic.

Liz sighed impatiently.

"Patty, where did you get that?" She asked with her hands on her hips, sidling over to examine the feral more closely. It looked at Liz through wide - and apparently infected, judging by the odd crust that had formed around its eyelids - green eyes.

"He was in a gutter on the street," Patty said, squishing its muddy white fur against her exposed torso. The very thought of that damp, filthy fur against his own stomach made Kid fight his gag reflex. "I wanted to save him, 'cause it's raining out... He would'a drowned if Patty hadn't saved him, right, Mr. Kitty?"

"Don't name it, Patty, you'll get attached to it." Liz felt that had to be said, but she knew it was already too late to keep Patty from falling in love with this matted mess of mammalian helplessness.

Mr. Kitty meowed weakly, and a wave of pity crashed down over Kid's head.

"Go wash it off," Kid said without looking at neither girl nor kitty, instead taking sudden interest in a section of blank wall. "If it scratches you up, though, I'm not helping."

Patty let out a squeal of delight and said a quick thank you, hugging the cat against Kid and running into the bathroom with the fragile thing in tow.

"I feel like this is a pretty big mistake, Kid," Liz said, watching as Patty skipped with the sickly mass hanging like a pendulum from her grasp.

Kid just sighed and wiped down the front of his suit. It was beyond his control now.


As it turned out, underneath all of the grit, Mr. Kitty had two perfect grey eyebrows over each green eye. It sat on Kid's lap when he read the newspaper and rubbed against his face when he couldn't sleep at night, it put its soft paws on Kid's knees and pantlegs when it was hungry, and it purred so loudly and lovingly and comfortingly that Kid felt he was completely appreciated for once. It had left a warm feeling, a paw print, where Patty had first pressed it against his heart.

Death the Kid was in love.


But it wasn't meant to last.

Three weeks later Patty awoke bright and early to check on Mr. Kitty. He lay motionless in his box, his little pink nose tucked underneath the tip of his white tail. His chest was very still.

Kid awoke to Patty collapsed onto his bed, hugging him tightly and sobbing violently into his chest.


Liz had thought the poor thing was sleeping at first. She put a finger under its chin and whispered, whispered for it to wake up and go into Kid's room and sit on the bed and head-butt Patty's cheek to soak up her tears. But Mr. Kitty wasn't stirring, and Liz found herself crying, too, stroking the still-warm fur on the cat's back and trying desperately not to listen to her sister's echoing sobs.

The house seemed so empty now.

She silently wondered if Kid would be alright. He had opened his heart to his tiny thing and it had left him. She didn't doubt that this was a first for him.


And although it was a first, Kid was alright. His eyes were dry, and he held Patty uncomfortably, unsure of exactly how to console someone. He was so used to death - he was death - and yet...

He felt a hole in his heart where that sickly little cat used to be. It was hard for him to believe that he would never feel it purring against his chest again. Is this what loss felt like to people who dealt with it every day? Is this what it was like to not be jaded against the effects of mortality?

He ran both hands through Patty's hair or used both hands to rub Patty's back and shoulders. He told her that it was alright, that she would be okay and so would Liz, and so would he, because they would never forget Mr. Kitty, and its soul would rest with his Honorable Father, where it could spend its afterlife remembering and reliving the three happy weeks Patty had oh-so-kindly given it.

Mr. Kitty was in Cat Heaven, Kid said awkwardly, a silly sentiment, and the idea struck Patty as so ridiculous - especially because it came from Kid - that she wiped her tears and began to giggle.

Patty would recover from this, but Kid silently resolved that they would never bring an animal into this house again. Patty had shed enough tears already.