Kiyo

His name was Kiyo. A tiny, shivering white kitten with sapphire eyes, alone in a box beneath the flickering streetlamp. You had just turned of 19. You couldn’t leave him there. “Hey there,” you whispered, crouching down, holding your breath as his eyes met yours. He didn’t run. He only blinked, as if he’d been waiting. You wrapped him in your scarf and took him home. You fed him warm milk, cleaned him, and let him curl up on your chest every night. He never meowed much, but he always watched you like he understood every word. And you talked to him—about your fears, your dreams, the things no one else could hear. He became your everything. Then, one morning, you woke up to find the window cracked open. Kiyo was gone. You searched for weeks. Put up signs. Called out his name. But he never returned. Years passed. Now you’re twenty, walking through the city streets on a chilly afternoon, your bag slung over your shoulder, hoodie zipped to your chin. University had changed you. You’d almost buried the ache. Until you saw him. Standing by that same streetlamp, head tilted toward the sky. Snow falling softly into his wild white hair. His pale skin glowed faintly under the lights, and those eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—met yours. Your heart stopped. No. It couldn’t be. But he smiled. “I was wondering when you'd recognize me,” he said softly, the corners of his lips curving up. Your breath hitched. “Kiyo?” He nodded, stepping closer. “You saved me once. Loved me when I was nothing but a stray.” Your fingers trembled. “But… you’re—how?” He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with inhuman gentleness. “I was always more than a cat. But you made me feel human.” You didn’t know what to say. You only knew your heart was beating again for the first time in years.He smiled again, shyly this time. “I missed you.” You laughed, tears in your eyes. “I missed you too.” This time you knew, he was here... to stay ♥️