Hugo tightehe straps of his backpad took a steadying breath. He had made his decision—he was going to look for the cat. It was a strange priority, but in this world, where every sed felt like borrowed time, the idea of having even the smallest bit of panionship felt like an anchor to his sanity.
He moved carefully through the apartment, his footsteps deliberately slow to avoid making he old wooden floor was uneven in pces, but the crete beh it kept his steps from eg too loudly. His eyes darted around the dimly lit space, sing every er for a flicker of movement. Where would a cat hide? He thought back to every time he had entered strays iy. They liked fined spaces, somewhere they could squeeze into and feel safe. Behind furniture, inside ets, under beds. His first stop was the couch. He crouched low, tilting his head to peer underh. Dust had collected in thick patches, but there was no sign of a feline presence. He turo the armchair , giving it a gentle push with his foot to see if anything darted out. Still nothing. As he stepped toward the hallway, a soft noise pricked his ears—a faint rustling, almost imperceptible. His breath hitched, and he froze, listening. It wasn’t ing from the locked bedroom. It was closer. Hugo turned his head slowly, his grip tightening on the pan in his hand. The sound had e from the kit. Carefully, he retraced his steps, angling his body to see around the ter. His pulse quied when he spotted a dark shape he lower ets. Two glowing yellow eyes stared back at him. The cat. Relief flooded through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. Sudden movements would only startle it. He crouched slowly, extending a hand. "Hey there..." he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as possible. "You’re not gonna scratch me, are you?"The cat didn’t move, its tail flig once as it watched him with wary eyes. Hugo could see its fur was slightly matted, its ribs faintly visible beh its sleek bck coat. It had been surviving on its own for who knows how long. He reached into his backpack, carefully pulling out the bag of cat food he had taken earlier. Tearing it open as quietly as he could, he shook out a small handful and pced it on the floor in front of him. The st seemed tister immediately. The cat’s witched, its ears perked slightly. Still, it didn’t move. Hugo stayed perfectly still, giving it time to decide. Seds passed like minutes, but eventually, the cat took a hesitant step forward, then another. It she food before finally l its head to eat. Hugo let out a slow breath, relief washing over him."There you go," he murmured. "See? I’m not so bad." He wasn’t sure if the cat could actually help him in any way, but having it around made him feel less alone. And right now, that was enough. The cat finished eating, lig his lips before lifting his head to stare at Hugo again. His yellow eyes were sharp, observant, as if judging whether Hugo was worth trusting. Hugo stayed still, letting the cat make the move. After a long moment, Salem flicked his tail and padded a few cautious steps closer. "You're a quiet one, huh?" Hugo muttered, watg as the cat s his knee before rubbing against his leg, tail curling slightly. He exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders. "Guess that means we’re cool now." Carefully, he reached out and ran his fingers along the cat’s back. Salem twitched at first but didn’t pull away. His fur was sleek but slightly matted from days—or weeks—of fending for himself. Hugo scratched gently behind his ears, earning a slow blink from the feline. "Alright, buddy," he murmured. "I gotta move. You ing with me or staying here?"He slung his backpack off one shoulder and unzipped it, giving Salem a moment to i it. The cat hesitated, then, to Hugo’s surprise, climbed right in, curling up against the spare space between supplies. Hugo let out a small chuckle. "Guess that ahat," he said, seg the zipper just enough to keep it open for airflow. He adjusted the straps and shifted the backpack to his front, letting it rest against his chest. This way, he could keep an eye on Salem while moving. The extra weight pressed against him, but he didn’t mind. "He paused, gng down at the cat curled up in his backpack. "I should probably call you something, huh?" He thought for a moment, then smirked slightly. "Salem. Yeah, that fits." Adjusting the straps, he took a steadying breath. "Alright, Salem. Let's see if we make it through this together." With Salem settled, Hugo turned his attention back to the supplies he had gathered. It wasn’t much. A of soup, some crackers—barely enough to st a day or two. His stomach twisted at the thought. He needed more if he was going to survive lohan that. He rubbed the back of his neck, his mind cyg through options. What now? Where else could he find supplies? His eyes flickered toward the bathroom. Medie. Even if he wasn’t sick or injured now, having something on hand could be the differeween life ah. And while he was at it— Toilet paper. He let out a quiet scoff. It wasn’t gmorous, but in an apocalypse, it was a luxury. He made his way toward the bathroom, stepping carefully over scattered toiletries on the floor. The et above the sink was slightly ajar. He reached up and pulled it open, sing the shelves. As expected, it was filled with the kind of medie one would find in an old dy’s house—painkillers, antacids, a half-empty bottle of cough syrup, and an assortment of prescription bottles he couldn’t even begin to decipher. He grabbed the painkillers and antacids—those could be useful—and shoved them into his backpabsp;, he reached for the lower et. Inside, he found bars of soap, a couple of travel-sized bottles of toothpaste, and, to his relief, a pack of wet wipes. Those went into the bag too. Hygiene might not be a priority in a world falling apart, but staying could prevent iion. With a final gnce, he spotted a couple of rolls of toilet paper tucked into the er. Smirking, he snatched them up. "Gold," he muttered under his breath before stuffing them into his pabsp;Satisfied, he zipped up the backpad adjusted Salem’s position slightly. Just as he turo leave, ahought struck him. The cat would need a pce to relieve himself. His eyes sed the apartment until they nded oter box tucked he er of the kit. It was old, the litter inside clumped and stale, but it was better than nothing. If he was going to keep Salem with him, he o make sure the cat was fortable enough to stick around.Bang the backpa one shoulder, he carefully lifted the litter box and carried it under his arm. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do for now. With everything gathered, he made his way to the entrance of Apartment 302. He hesitated for a moment before reag out aly closing the door. He wasn’t ing ba here again. Whatever was behind that locked bedroom door could stay there. Turning, he moved cautiously toward his oartment, his senses on high alert, but the hallway was just as silent as before. No movement. No sound. He retrieved his key, unlog his door quickly before slipping inside and shutting it behind him. Just to be safe, he immediately shoved the heavy dresser against it.Finally, he exhaled. He was safe. For now. Setting the backpack down, he unzipped it, allowing Salem to hop out onto the floor. The cat stretched, arg his back before silently padding across the room, iing his new surroundings. Hugo pced the litter box in the er and refilled a small bowl with the cat food he had sged. "Alright, buddy, you’re officially moved in," he muttered, watg as Salem s the food before settling in to eat. Hugo took a seat on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. His muscles ached from tension, but at least he had supplies. A little food, some medie, and now, a cat. He pulled out a pack of crackers and ope, chewing slowly as he watched Salem. The cat finished eating, then gracefully leapt onto the couch beside him, curling up without a sound. Hugo smirked, shaking his head. "Not much of a talker, huh?" He reached out, giving the cat a slow scratch behind the ears. Salem let out a quiet purr, a rare sound, but a f one. For the first time in what felt like forever, Hugo didn’t feel entirely alo that thought brought another with it—his family. He leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, the remnants of a cracker still in his hand. He had been so focused on surviving, on the immediate danger around him, that he hadn't let himself dwell on them. Now that he had pany—even if it was just a cat—the loneliness pressed down harder. He had three brothers. They had always been close, even if life had pulled them in different dires. One lived hours away, too far to even sider reag in this chaos. The other two had been in the city over. That was closer… but what were the ces they had made it? What were the ces anyone had? His chest tightened. He could remember their st versation, joking around roup chat about some dumb movie they had all watched as kids. He had promised to visit when work slowed down, but that had never happehe restaurant had always kept him busy, and now, none of that mattered anymore. He rubbed his eyes, sighing. Thinking about them wouldn’t ge anything. It wouldn’t bring them back, wouldn’t tell him if they were alive or dead. All it did was make the emptiness inside him grow heavier. A soft weight pressed against his side. He blinked, looking down to see Salem, now curled up beside him, his sleek body rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. The cat had settled in, fortable, unbothered by the turmoil in Hugo’s mind.Hugo exhaled slowly, scratg behind Salem’s ears. "Guess it’s just us now, huh?" He wasn’t sure if he was talking to the cat or himself. Salem’s tail flicked slightly, but he didn’t move away.Hugo let the silence linger. He wasn’t ready to face the truth about his family. Not yet. But at least, for now, he wasn’t pletely alone. The exhaustion of the day settled deep into his bones, and before he realized it, his body gave in. His eyes grew heavy, a himself sink into the couch, Salem's warmth beside him a small fort. Sleep crept in, pulling him under. When he woke, the room was dimmer. He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before rubbing his fad gng around. Salem was still curled up beside him, stretg zily as Hugo sat up. His stomach rumbled, a sharp remihat it had been too long since he’d eaten a proper meal. He forced himself to his feet and moved toward the kit, grabbing the of soup he had sged. It wasn’t much, and it was cold, but it was food. He found a pot a on the gas stove, relieved to hear the faint click as the fme ighe familiar st of broth filled the room as he stirred, waiting for it to heat through. Once ready, he poured the soup into a bowl and sat back down, the warmth spreading through his fingers. He took slow sips, sav eae. Salem sat nearby, watg him with half-lidded eyes, tent but alert. Hugo tore off a small piece of cracker and pced it beside the cat, who s it before dismissing it entirely. "Figured as much," Hugo muttered, smirking slightly. He let Salem be, fog instead on his own meal. The simple act of eating in peace felt surreal, a moment of normal an abnormal world. But as he scraped the st spoonful from the bowl, reality settled in again. That was the st of the soup. All he had left were some crackers. Barely anything to keep him going.His expression hardened. He o go out again. Soon.