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In a spot lit by evening sun cast through wide, sheer-curtained windows, a young boy’s silhouette took form again. He could have taken any form he pleased - he’d tried out several in the time since remembering his complete past - but he still liked this one the most. He’d stopped wearing his bellboy’s hat, replacing it with a variety of others in different spaces, but he kept the shorts and tailcoat and ascot with his Express badge pinned to it. The ankle boots also stayed, especially right now, when his ankles might actually need protecting.
Aventurine’s apartment on Pier Point was in its usual state for the owner being away on business. The lights and electronics stayed off, but the climate control was kept at its same-as-ever settings, so the three rescued experiments residing here would still be comfortable. Misha wasn’t entirely sure how or why Aventurine came into possession of a trio of seemingly identical cat cakes, but the businessman loved his pets more than he loved himself most days. If there was any question of that, Misha’s presence here and now should have been a suitable answer.
He still remembered giving Aventurine the lightcone he was using to materialize on Pier Point. It was something he’d figured out with a nudge or two from Miss Black Swan - a fusion of memoria-powered Remembrance and the Trailblaze he’d always been devoted to. The result was something almost like the space anchors of the Astral Express, physical objects he could hop between as long as he stayed within a certain radius.
“Here,” he’d said, holding the lightcone out to Aventurine before his departure from Penacony. “I want you to have this. I can use it to find you again if you ever need me.”
“Thanks, kid,” Aventurine had replied, briefly inspecting the object before tucking it away. “Why are you giving this to me, though? I haven’t done anything for you, have I?”
“You’re still really important to everything that happened to make me remember who I am, and make everyone here see the truth. I wanna make sure everybody gets one. I wanna be a part of more adventures, see everything, so this way you can take me with you. I just have to stay close to it when I leave the Memory Zone.”
It had been a few weeks before Aventurine had reached back out, and even then it was just text messages at first. Misha could tell Aventurine was sizing him up, seeing what kind of friend he might be, but he couldn’t blame the guy - memes could be wild cards, even if you grew up with them. (Even if you never had a growing-up. Even if you’d grown up centuries ago. Even if you were a meme yourself and didn’t even realize it.)
Whatever he’d done or said by just being honest, it had still worked. Aventurine had gradually opened up some in kind, sharing anecdotes about his work, then eventually his personal life. The dam had evidently burst when he’d offhandedly mentioned his pets and Misha had asked if he could see them sometime. Not only was he sent a few pictures of the trio - Maple Sugar Cake, River Rock Cake, and Sticky Bun - he was invited to come see them personally sometime.
After that, Aventurine didn’t always carry Misha’s lightcone with him. Sometimes, when he would be away from Pier Point for longer stretches of time but not long enough to go through the process of boarding his babies someplace (or with too little notice to secure a place), the lightcone would be left as close to the center of the wide penthouse apartment as Aventurine could get it, and he’d ask Misha to pop in and take care of the cat cakes a couple times a day. Not just feed and water them, though of course he’d do that, but also keep them company and play for a while.
So, like he’d done for the last three days, Misha walked from the living room to the kitchen, pulling over the small stepstool so he could look into the sink. Peering up at him from within was River, who blinked once, twice, and leapt from the sink onto the counter, then from the counter to Misha’s arms. Laughing, he stepped back down and cradled the purring cat cake to his front, gently scratching the very back petal of their outer skin. River may have been the calmest of the trio, but they still loved being held after enough time alone.
“Hi there, River,” Misha said, patting them softly. “Think you can get Maple and Bun for me? It’s about feeding time.” The animal mrrped and bumped their head into his chest, as close to a yes as anyone could expect.
He set the critter down on the floor, letting them speed off deeper into the apartment while he grabbed the rice from the pantry. Most people would have gone for cat food, but the researchers at Herta Station had found these animals could eat almost anything. Some people might have chosen to use them as garbage disposals, then, but Aventurine always wanted his pets to have the very best, and rice was one of the easier dishes all three agreed on. Misha personally suspected Aventurine used this as a way to make sure he ate something too, since it was just as easy to make four portions if you already needed three, but he didn’t really have any reason to broach the subject. It was a nice thought, though, letting your pets eat the exact same stuff as you.
By the time the rice was finished, all three cats were crowded around the stepstool, meowing and pawing at its legs. Misha doled it out into four bowls, one for himself too, and carefully stepped down with one in each hand. It was hard to walk to their placemats at the edge of the kitchen with the critters crowding him, but he’d only stepped on someone once so far this week and he was determined to keep it that way for as long as possible. All the same, they didn’t start eating when he set the first two bowls down - they stayed there and let Misha more quickly grab the others, waiting until everyone could eat together. (A habit that only made Misha more sure Aventurine ate with his pets whenever he could.)
Misha didn’t strictly need to eat, being a memetic entity, but it was still satisfying to tuck into the food with the cats not far away. If he really focused, he’d be able to feel some part of himself sucking something from every grain, but that was kind of uncomfortable and he didn’t like to think about it that much. Same with drinking - if he compared it now with his human memories, it felt wetter, like there was more space for things to splash around before they just… went away somewhere. He really didn’t like thinking about where that somewhere was; it’s not like he needed bathrooms anymore. So he didn’t, and he focused on the little noises the cats made between their bites instead. Meeps and mrrps and mlems, which he took as satisfaction noises. It was nice to give the kitties food they liked, even if they could have almost anything.
Once everyone was done, Misha piled up the bowls and set them in the sink. Rolling up his sleeves and washing up didn’t take long - he would put this off until a little later, but leaving stuff in the sink was downright dangerous with River around. He was pretty sure Aventurine had named that one for their love of sitting in sinks, even if they were full or someone was trying to use them. They never seemed to learn that sinks got wet, and while Misha didn’t exactly have to care about water transfer - he could just think himself dry again - Aventurine tended to wear clothes that didn’t like even getting damp. And yet, if River ever got more than a little wet, it was an immediate case of running and yelling until someone fixed the problem and cuddled them until they weren’t upset about it anymore. So, washing up immediately and letting the bowls dry on the counter again.
Finally, he could return to the living room and pull out the cat toys. Today he went for a pair of mock fishing rods, baited with candy Misha was pretty sure Aventurine had been given at work and really didn’t care for. He swung them around this way and that, letting the cat cakes run around and work for their desserts, re-baiting them whenever someone successfully got the candy off. Eventually he was running around the living room laughing, dodging the coffee table and ottomans and little kitty bodies, letting them chase him until they gave up.
And once the cat cakes were all worn out, Misha lay down on his side and let them shuffle up against his front. These creatures loved to cuddle, he’d found, and they didn’t care that he still wasn’t completely solid, wasn’t producing a normal amount of body heat, didn’t have human organs to listen to beyond his habit of breathing. They bumped and nudged their way against him all the same, tucking their tails up around themselves as everyone’s breathing slowed, until the trio were purring sleepily next to him.
Misha could have pulled out his phone to entertain himself, awkwardly responding to texts or watching videos while he rested. But he preferred to enjoy being in this peaceful moment, curtains billowing gently near his feet, small animals starting to snooze nearby. It wasn’t the grandest adventure, but quiet downtime like this was just as important as watching someone’s back in a fight or arguing with politicians. It made him feel human again, alive and real, whole and complete in a way dramatic encounters couldn’t quite match. And that was worth just about everything.