I regret everything I have ever done in my entire life that has led to this moment. My sleep schedule was fucked enough as it is. I didn’t need Wesley’s insane snoring to keep me up as well. But whatever, I probably wouldn’t have gotten any sleep if he weren’t here. The possibility of someone coming in and attacking kept me up all night.

So instead of just lying around all night, I did some research. I looked for anything I could find on P.A.G., but absolutely nothing came up. Which isn’t that surprising considering they’re a secret organization, or at least they were on Earth. I would know.  

I’m starting to believe that Muffin is psychic or something because every time I get upset, she just appears next to me and starts rubbing against me. It’s a little creepy if you ask me. What’s worse is she won’t leave me alone until I pet her. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love cats, but this is really starting to annoy me. I can’t get anything done.

When the “sun” rises around 6:30, I’m already changed and making food in the kitchen. I don’t know what time Wesley will wake up, but I hope he doesn’t sleep in too late. We have things we need to talk about. Of course, I’m not going to tell him everything, just the things he needs to know.

I make two plates of toast and eggs. I’m not sure if Wesley likes eggs, but he’s gonna have to suck it up because I’m not wasting this food. Right on cue, I hear noises coming from the living room. I look over and see Wesley stretching and then getting jumped by Muffin. I chuckle quietly as I watch him try to pull Muffin off him. Muffin, however, had different plans and decided to hold on with all her strength. With a sigh, Wesley stands up, Muffin attached to his chest. He turns around and sees me standing in the kitchen. 

“Do you enjoy watching me suffer?” Wesley accuses as he catches me trying to stifle a laugh. Wesley glares at me, and I shrug my shoulders, a smirk spreading across my face.  

I gesture towards the table, where the plates of eggs and toast sit, slowly cooling as the seconds tick by, inviting him to come and eat with me. 

We sit at the dining table together, and I watch as Wesley inhales his food. I suppose it makes sense, considering that before yesterday he lived on the streets and probably didn’t get meals very often. I wonder what his life was like back on Earth. Was his family nice? Did he have many friends? Was his life better there? Probably…

A crash pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn to where the noise came from, and there on my kitchen counter, sitting next to the now broken vase, is Muffin. A scowl instantly spreads across my face. I knew picking up that cat was a mistake. I look at Wesley, he looks petrified, it’s almost funny how scared he looks, it’s like he thinks I’m going to kick him out or something, I’m not. 

I get up and pick Muffin up off the counter. I need to find her some kind of kennel so that she won’t get into trouble. I put her down on the floor and start cleaning up the broken pieces of the vase. Muffin had actually done me a favor. I’d been meaning to get rid of that vase because I haven’t bought flowers in months, so I saw no point in keeping it anymore, but Muffin beat me to it, so that’s one less chore for me to complete on a later date.

Wesley watches as I clean, as if he’s trying to be sneaky about it, then he’s failing miserably because I can literally feel his eyes on me. I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t started apologizing yet, not that I think he needs to though, it’s not his fault.

After I finish cleaning up the vase, Wesley finally speaks up, “I probably should’ve helped you clean up, huh?” I shrug in response. It doesn’t bother me that he didn’t help, I’m used to cleaning up messes on my own anyway.

“I can do the dishes if you want,” He suggests hopefully. I give him a thumbs up and head over to the living room, where Muffin has claimed the sofa as her own. I sit on the sofa next to her, and she flops over, looking up at me expectantly. I start to pet her, and to my surprise, she begins to purr. A small smile pulls at the corners of my mouth when I hear the happy sound the small cat is making.

I sit like this for a few minutes, enjoying the soft sounds of Muffin purring and the sink running from the kitchen. Wesley is humming some song I don’t recognize, my smile widens, and for the first time in a long time, I feel content, and dare I even say happy.

Then I hear a ding from my computer, and I’m snapped back to reality. Luckily, I’d figured out how to turn off the automated voice, so I didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Preparing for the worst, I glance around to make sure Wesley isn’t peeking, but he is still in the kitchen washing dishes. I check the number, it’s not the same one P.A.G. was using, so I have slight optimism. I open the message, and my heart stops.

There’s no way, right? It’s not possible. She told me she was staying on Earth. How is she here? Why now? Does she know? Stupid question, of course she knows. The message reads as follows:

“Hey, bestie, it’s been a while. I know you’ve missed me. I heard you got yourself into a bit of a sticky situation. Want some help? -The Pied Piper”