@mmskip ;; whiskers and swishing tails
when the weather is good enough to allow him to sit on the rooftop (so basically, any time it’s dry, no matter the temperature) he dutifully climbs the stairs up to the rooftop and finds a seat on one of the benches in the garden there. back straight, book in hands, he sits reading, and the felines find him on their own. it doesn’t take longer than five minutes for at least one of them to come, usually to settle in his lap and start purring away.
although not easily distracted from whatever he’s reading, there’s always a pet or two for every single one of the animals that approach him, to give them some comfort, some affection. then his eyes return to the book and only occasionally - usually after flipping a page - does he reach down and stroke them again.
some days, however, some days he goes up to the rooftop without a book, sits himself down on the floor with a small bag of treats in his hands, and spends an entire hour on the cats and nothing but the cats. today is one of those days, his legs crossed, the bag of treats settled between them and his hands reaching left and right to pet all of the cats as they tiptoe around him, rubbing their heads against him, tails high, ears perked and most of their attention on the treats he passes around occasionally.
the thing is, there has never been an expression so soft on his face other than when he’s sitting there with the animals, stroking and petting and feeding. never a smile so warm as when one of them does something silly. in fact; it’s very unusual to hear him laugh within the sharehouse, but the animals manage to pull a chuckle from him occasionally. as if there is a different person sitting there than the one that lives in the sharehouse for the rest of the time.
the rooftop is skip’s go-to in the warmer months. nothing can beat the yellow sunlight kissing his skin, beads of sweat gathering at his temples. the drop in temperature is compelling him less and less to spend his free time up on the roof. sitting in a perpetual cloudy haze and suffering through chills of cold isn’t quite his idea of a good time. (if there’s one thing on earth skip doesn’t like, it’s the cold).
though today seems to be one of the world’s last ditch attempts at sunshine and warmth. there’s a plastic bag carrying freshly prepared egg sandwich and a six pack of strawberry milk hanging loosely from his hand, and he’s full ready to spread his arms and soak in this final vestige of sweet, sweet summertime.
what he doesn’t expect is company, especially not akio. he’s stopped in his tracks at the sight of this typically stoic figure grinning and chuckling at the heap of cats prying their way into his lap. time and time again, he’s tried to pull so much as a passing glance out of akio, but to no avail. who knew this effort could’ve been averted if he’d just stolen hyojin’s cat costume and crawled around on the rooftop. you live and you learn.
he slowly meanders over, as to not frighten the cats away — they are out here doing what no mortal man could. a hand carefully dips into his bag, and he plucks out one of his six milks. some choices must be made in the face of prime opportunities.
“hey, man,” he stands beside the bench, entirely unsure if he should sit or if that would be pushing his luck. “i didn’t know you were up here! i can dip if you wanna be alone and read ‘n stuff ‘cause like, i get it, but,” he holds out the milk as though it’s a sacrificial offering, grin shining bright as the day, “i got milk!”
he takes a beat, free hand moving to rub his neck. “i also got half an egg sandwich with your name on it, if it’s cool for me to sit down.”
