Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was something quite calming about being able to work in an animal shelter. 

Some people had looked at her weirdly whenever she decided to express that to them (and the admissions had already been so scarce to begin with), because honestly, who would look at a loud, depleted, and smelly building chock-full of wailing cats and dogs and everything in between and call it calming? 

Well, Ganyu certainly did. 

When the sun was setting and visitors looking to adopt or coo at the poor animals in their care were beginning to thin, the crescendo of barking and rattling would steadily decrease, as if a controlled speaker had been set on a specified timer. It was during these times that Ganyu would come in to volunteer, almost everyday except on those when she had to work overtime, to relish in the company of furried friends that looked at her with such unconditional love that it made her heart ache. 

Weekdays, too, had been known to be increasingly slow. That was fine with her. Everything was in its place— a litter of kittens were currently with Xiao for bottle feeding, and all she was told to do today was clean out a couple kennels that had been recently left empty thanks to their free adoption event the day before. 

No, she wasn’t being paid to do this. Not a single cent or favor came to her by coming in every late afternoon after her horribly busy and secure secretary job, but she didn’t mind it either way. This was what she called her one true hobby outside of work, because she felt at peace with every task set out before her in a room full of beings that needed her the most. 

Morax, the graying eldery cat who had captured her heart since the first day, stared mournfully at her on top of a cat tower while she scrubbed vigorously at a stain in the corner of a small carrier. Ganyu wiped her brow with the back of her hand and set her lips into a thin line, staring back at him and hoping that her eyes conveyed a promise of her presence in just a little longer. 

Morax huffed, his nose twitching, and he closed his eyes for another nap. His tail swished slowly behind him. 

She sighed, bending back over to scrub away. There were people who were going to need this any time soon, and it was her job to provide them these services. 

The sounds of the bustling tires of cars and wind pressurized the air, accompanied by the soft chime of the front door. 

Ganyu lifted her head and almost slammed it directly into the lip of the carrier. She put a hand behind her head to protect it as she backed out on her hands and knees, a dirtied towel on her shoulder. 

“Oh! Hello,” she greeted to the waiting patron genially. 

She was certainly not what Ganyu was expecting. 

The woman had her hair up in twin buns (and a passing thought of cat passed through her mind, but she cleared it just as fast as it came), as well as sporting a business suit that was clearly pressed and polished. She fidgeted with the gloves on her fingers, and Ganyu noted her shifting feet and glancing eyes. As if she was rather embarrassed to be here. 

Ganyu remembered her. They worked in the same business firm with Lady Ningguang, though she worked as an executive manager. That fact alone, paired with Keqing’s too-formal-for-an-animal-shelter outfit, made her wonder if the woman had wandered in here by accident. 

“Can I help you?” she said again. The silence between them was becoming much too tense. 

Keqing jumped slightly at that, and her eyes settled upon her as if she herself was surprised to see Ganyu. And in all honesty, Ganyu would have thought of this situation to be amusing, had it not been for the fact that she was rendered into silent, utmost confusion. 

“I—” Keqing began, and she inhaled a deep breath to steady herself. Her posture straightened, and Ganyu observed that she spoke and acted as if she was speaking to a businessman in a meeting. She would know. “I just wanted to see a…  cat that I saw while I was passing by. I hope that’s not a problem? If it is, it would be my deepest apologies, and I wouldn’t mind—”

“No, no. Please,” Ganyu said, waving a hand dismissively at her. She stood up to be at eye level, then gestured welcomely to the cat room, separated by a wall of glass so that patrons may see it in its full glory. “We don’t have time limits for guests to play with our adoptable animals. Visit them as much as you’d like.”

Keqing nodded stiffly at her, then brushed past her to delicately open the knob of the half-windowed door to allow herself access into Ganyu’s second favorite place in the shelter (the dog pen being first, obviously). 

Surprisingly, she did not once look at the young cats mewling and pawing at her pant suit, but rather made a beeline to the elderly cat sleeping on top of his cat tower. 

Morax lifted his head when she approached and with the speed of a careful senior, he stretched himself into an arch and yawned. 

Ganyu shook off the shock of Keqing’s tastes in cats— she’s not one to judge, after all, considering that Morax was the one to persuade her to come here as much as she did. She did, however, cringe internally at the expectant situation to come. 

But instead of bouncing away and pointedly ignoring Keqing like he did with most people, he let her get near enough to close his eyes and bump her head against her palm. Keqing looked like she loosened a breath in her chest, and she petted him with a gentleness that Ganyu was embarrassed to admit that she didn’t expect the executive to possess. 

Ganyu went back to cleaning, allowing the two the time to themselves. 

Keqing left five minutes later, and Ganyu knew this from her own body clock and the analog clock that stretched its arm to the precise number. She left without a word, breezing past a younger volunteer worker who opened her mouth to say something and Xiao, who was balancing three kittens in his arms. 

When the door chimed and sealed itself close, it almost felt final. 

Morax stared mournfully into the outside where he last saw her, and Ganyu did the same. What an odd day. 

A once in the blue moon kind of day, she mused to herself. Keqing probably just wanted a distraction, and that she would never come again. Somehow, Ganyu felt more remorseful for that fact alone than anything for the rest of the day ever did. 

It happened again the very next day. 

Ganyu had just taken a dog out on a walk and was refilling his water bowl when the door chimed merrily, greeting a purple-haired businesswoman who looked much out of place from everything else. Ganyu smiled at her politely, and Keqing waved meagerly at her before turning her shoulder and pivoting straight into the cat room. 

Morax made his way down his tower to purr against her leg, and Ganyu couldn’t help but stare as Keqing broke into a rare smile and bent down to pet the full length of his body. 

She tried her best not to watch them while she continued to scratch the dog behind his ear and lap up his water carefully. Nonetheless, Ganyu could see a flash of purple and graying black whenever she turned her head slightly to meet the demands of her needy dog. It was almost always accompanied with a subtle grin and a tail that whipped back and forth high in the air in excitement. 

Then, five minutes passed after Keqing’s arrival, and she left just as swiftly as she arrived. 

The next day was the same ritual— inside for five minutes, then back outside, seemingly never to be seen again. 

Ganyu stared at the door, pressing her lips into a thin line. It felt like a weird sense of deja vu staring like this. 

She was jerked forward with the force of a hand on her back, and Ganyu tried not to glare too firmly at the woman who grinned down at her with a pen behind her ear. 

“She was just here yesterday, wasn’t she?” Beidou asked, almost to herself. “D’you know her?”

“Yes, ah,” Ganyu answered, and she straightened herself to brush off the hair attaching to her shirt. She paused, wondering how much she should tell her advisor and friend, before replying, “She works with Ningguang’s corporation. We’re not close, but I know she’s quite a busy lady.”

“But so are you, aren’t ya?” Beidou retorted. She folded her arms over her chest and tapped a finger on her bicep, puffing out a cheek and tilting her head at her in thought. “Did she ever tell you why she keeps coming here?”

“No,” Ganyu said honestly. “And I wouldn’t ask. It’s her reasons, and I don’t think I should be one to pry.”

Beidou regarded her for a quick moment before barking out a quick laugh, then patted her on the shoulder heavily in that chummy way of hers. “Alright,” she said, but the curl of her words made Ganyu realize that she was teasing. “If you don’t wanna ask her about it, then I suggest you stop looking at the door after she leaves like she just broke up with you in a seven year relationship.”

Ganyu waved off her hand. “I’m just curious about her thought process,” she argued, but her weak voice sounded even weaker in her ears. “That’s all.”

“Or, you could be jealous that she’s the only other person Morax lets in his vicinity,” Beidou hummed. At her surprised face, Beidou shrugged. “She sticks out like a sore thumb. Can’t blame me for being a little bit nosy.”

“I see.” Ganyu pressed her lips together, then rubbed her shoulder. “Do you need any more help today at all?”

At that, Beidou’s facial features softened. She put a hand on her opposite shoulder and moved it around, then answered, “Nah. And even if I did, I would’ve kicked you out to the curb anyway.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of what we’re trying to do here?” Ganyu teased, and Beidou snorted. 

“Well, sure, but if they’re working overtime for volunteer hours—” Beidou glared at her playfully at that, and Ganyu smiled sheepishly, “—then clearly we have a problem.”

“I tell you time and time again, Beidou, I enjoy working here,” Ganyu said with a light laugh. Beidou didn’t look convinced, judging from the thin line of her lips and the mocking nod thrown her way. “I swear by you, I mean every word when I say that every minute spent caring for these animals is both therapeutic to me and serves as a great hobby. Would you rather I spent my outside work hours pouring over my worksheets?” she pressed on. 

At that, Beidou lifted her hands up in surrender, suppressing a clear grin. “Okay, okay. I get you,” she finally relented, and Ganyu slumped in relief at the end of her interrogation. “Get home safe, alright? The puppies will miss you if you don’t.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ganyu answered, and Beidou side-hugged her goodbye to tend to the rest of her work. 

Ganyu looked back into the cat room. She truly did find this a peaceful hobby— even if her shirts were stained with puke some days and some birds would leave deep imprints into her skin. They were all worth it to pat some bellies and make some poor animals’ lives a bit better. All worth it. 

And, maybe she’d admit, it was Keqing’s soft smiles when she thought no one was watching that made it just a bit more worth it. 

It was like clockwork with Keqing. As if she stared at a clock and timed everything out from the pace of her work all the way to the potential obstacles that could block her way. 

Exactly an hour before rush hour, Keqing would enter the animal shelter with no more than a nod or a “Good afternoon” when she was in a chipper mood. Ganyu would usually be there when she did, usually while cleaning kennels or petting a shaking dog on her lap to calm him down. And whenever she did, she had enough sense to feel guilty for the way she would simply watch, maybe a glance or two (or more), while Keqing always, always situated herself in front of old Morax and played with him. 

There was one time, even, when Ganyu watched her come in, exhaustion and irritation coming off of her in waves, and she dragged her dead legs next to an even more exhausted Morax and let him sleep on her lap while she closed her eyes. 

It was truly endearing. 

But she’d never admit that. Especially when Beidou would waggle her eyebrows at her at every chance she could milk. 

Then, on one weekday afternoon, when Ganyu had gotten to the shelter earlier from work due to the lack of workload (a once in a lifetime opportunity, and she’d know), she decided to enjoy her time by being with Morax. 

He was an old cat, that was a fact. He barely moved some days and he needed help the most, but Ganyu couldn’t help but have a soft spot for him. 

“Oh.”

She was so deep in thought with her hand mindlessly stroking his fur that she didn’t realize that Keqing had been standing in front of her. Ganyu’s hand froze on his body, and Morax lifted his chin to look at her curiously. 

“I could come back some other time when it’s more convenient,” Keqing said, and Ganyu couldn’t help the heat from crawling underneath the cotton of her collar. Keqing scratched the inside of her wrist. “I wouldn’t want to impose on—”

“No!” When Keqing’s eyebrows jumped up at her blurted response, Ganyu hitched a breath in embarrassment. “Sorry, I just mean… please. Don’t let me bother you.”

Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if Beidou was laughing her butt off in the distance. Even to her, the silence was chokingly awkward, radiating from both parties. She would have laughed herself, had it not been for the fact that she was very, very flustered at the moment. 

She couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t as if Keqing was kicking her out, or Beidou caught her snoring again. 

Ganyu, propelled by the sound of a dog’s sharp bark, stood up on shaky legs and smiled the best she could at Keqing. 

Keqing nodded at her. There was a faint smile on her lips, and she couldn’t tell if it stemmed from genuine friendliness or an awkward attempt to dispel the sudden sheen of awkwardness over them. 

She nearly clipped Keqing on the shoulder as she walked out of the door, though she wouldn’t let herself screw out a breath until she was already fifteen feet away from the room. By then, Ganyu took three quick shallow breaths and put a hand over her chest in an attempt to calm the sudden thrum. 

“Nice,” Beidou snickered behind her. Ganyu whipped her lower back with a dog towel. Beidou yelped.

“I’m going to bathe some of the dogs,” she said under her breath, hanging her head. 

Her friend’s laughter followed her all the way into the other room. 

It took a week and two days for Ganyu to gain the courage to enter the cat room ever again. 

Every volunteer on the premise were either busy tending to the new litter of kittens or simply snoozing with a newspaper plopped on their face (and Ganyu knew exactly how sacred nap time was), so it fell onto her shoulders to be the one to brave the afternoon feeding of the cats. It wasn’t that she hated cats— no, not at all. She liked them, even, though dogs had always been the favorable species in her eyes. 

It was the fact that Keqing always seemed to be in the room whenever she thought of stepping in.

Beidou teased her about it for days, though Ganyu would rather put wet dog food on her face than admit that she was just too scared to approach. Realistically, yes, Keqing had no claws or sharp teeth to bat at her with, but the fear was relentless nonetheless. 

She took a deep breath. 

Then three. 

After the fifth, Ganyu wrenched open the door with a hand towel, then walked in with a coy smile on her face. 

As always, Keqing was the only person in the room. People often came by in the early afternoons, but Keqing was never one for the conventional timing. Time seemed to work around her, to her every whim. It made Ganyu feel a little… tense. 

Morax was the first to greet her presence. Seeing his old face come up to meet hers, bright gold eyes peering into the corners of her fears, Ganyu couldn’t help but slump her shoulders. He opened his slightly to meow, and the tiniest of sounds emitted from him. 

At that, Keqing scratched right behind his ear curiously. Then she raised her head, similarly to Morax’s, and her eyebrows jumped up in surprise. 

Ganyu smiled at her. She hoped it didn’t look as wobbly as it felt. “I’m just here to feed the cats. Don’t mind me,” she said nonchalantly. Keqing nodded stiffly at her. 

With that out of the way, Ganyu got to work. She rolled up her sleeves and swung the hand towel over her shoulder, then unlocked the corner shelf stocked with kibble to open the packaging. Sounds of insistent meows and pitter-patters on the floor filled the bursting air, and Ganyu couldn’t help but smile down at the cats that rubbed against her shins and followed her all the way to the empty cat bowls. 

She felt pairs of eyes watching her every move, which was to be expected when she was the one to feed a dozen hungry cats, though the feeling didn’t go away once she finished refilling the water fountains from across the room. 

Her task was done, and the feeling of satisfaction filled her tired bones. She smiled happily to herself, taking a couple seconds to enjoy the munching and chirping of her cats while she cordially wiped her hands on the towel. 

“Morax really likes you,” Keqing mused. 

Ganyu pivoted on her foot to look at her. No longer was Morax sleeping on her lap as he did each time she came, but he was sitting exactly two steps away from Ganyu, head tilted upwards and eyes unmoving from hers. 

Ganyu glanced between Keqing’s inscrutable face and Morax. She would have laughed at how similar they looked, had she not been so caught off guard. 

“Well,” she said, processing her words to its absolution, “the sentiment is certainly shared with you.”

And Keqing laughed. Laughed. 

That was an event rarer than seeing Morax do a backflip. 

“I didn’t think I was all that special to him,” Keqing admitted. Ganyu wiped her hands one last time. “I thought he was one of those— those cats that just like everyone, you know? But then a couple children came through while I was here and he hid from them.”

“It does feel good to be liked by someone who seems to dislike everyone,” Ganyu agreed. She didn’t know what possessed her to do it— perhaps her body saw Keqing’s opening conversation as an olive branch, or she was much too tired to argue with the quibble in her brain— but she let herself move forward to allow Morax to get up and saunter back into Keqing’s lap. 

Once he did, his head resting on Keqing’s knee, Ganyu stroked his head gently. She didn’t look up in fear of seeing the look Keqing was giving her. 

“But, I also know that Morax isn’t one to dislike people,” Ganyu said kindly. Morax pushed his head against her palm to incite her. “He just likes being in the presence of people who understand him.”

Keqing silently stroked Morax’s body when Ganyu pulled away. 

“I see,” she murmured. After a beat, she cleared her throat and laughed a little. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at small talk.”

“So why try and start one with me?” Ganyu felt herself grow hot at her blurted words. She looked up sharply at Keqing. “I’m sorry— I, um— didn’t mean for it to sound so… so rude. I only meant—”

“It’s fine. I understand,” Keqing told her with a slight upward quirk of her lips. “I guess neither of us are good at it, so it checks out.”

Ganyu thanked the heavens that she had enough self control not to blurt out the next few things on her mind. Instead, she shook away her embarrassment and answered, “This is the longest time we’ve spoken about something that wasn’t about work. That alone is enough to celebrate, at least in my eyes.”

Keqing nodded thoughtfully. “I actually struck up a conversation with you for that very reason,” she confessed, and Ganyu tried her best to squander the surprise on her face. “We all have the innate desire to avoid people we know in public, but I felt like you were intentionally avoiding me. So I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” Now Ganyu definitely couldn’t keep the surprise from growing on her face. “Why would you apologize for that?” And maybe she was a little embarrassed that she got caught, like with a hand stuck in the cookie jar. 

“If I’m making you uncomfortable by being here, I wouldn’t mind cutting back on my visits,” Keqing said matter-of-factly, and panic rose in Ganyu’s voice. She could only gape as Keqing continued, “After all, I… I think I do visit Morax a lot more than I should. And it’s clear to me that you see this place as your safe haven— ”

“No!” Ganyu blurted out. Keqing’s hand froze on top of Morax’s sleepy head. She backtracked, flubbering every other word as she did so. “I mean— yes. This animal shelter is— well, it’s a place for me to wind down while still channeling my energy into something good, so that means watching other people feel good when they see these animals too. And, clearly, you like being here with Morax, and I couldn’t impose—”

The door to the cat room burst open. There were indignant shouts and meows. “Ganyu!” 

“Mm— yes?” She turned around to blink at Beidou. 

“Uh— a dog barfed on Xiao’s shirt.” Then Beidou blinked at her. She made a face, and pointed out of the door with an apologetic grin. “Would you…?”

“Oh! Yes! I’ll be right there,” Ganyu said hurriedly, and she sprang up on her feet to tend to her endeavors. Beidou clapped her on the back and said a quick apology, before jogging out of the door with a quick wink (at least, Ganyu thought it looked like a wink). 

Ganyu put one foot in front of the other when she remembered her prior conversation. As if a bolt of lightning went through her body, Ganyu turned to look at Keqing apologetically, words half stumbled off of her lips, when Keqing simply raised a hand to her. 

“It’s fine,” she said with a smile. A genuine smile, in fact, and it was that fact alone that made Ganyu’s shoulders untense for the first time in an hour. “I’m leaving in a minute anyway.” She probably meant that literally too.

“Of course.” Ganyu tilted her head. “It was nice talking to you, Keqing,” she said as an afterthought. 

Keqing’s genuine smile only seemed to grow in its warmth. “As to you, Ganyu.”

Morax purred on her lap. He seemed to smile himself. 

Keqing was notorious for being the one to start every meeting at the exact time specified on their calendar. She was known for being ruthless for those who came in late, even going as far as to slam doors in their faces. She was cool under pressure, unbreaking, unyielding. 

She allowed no distractions when meetings started, and her piercing gaze when phones rang or pinged in the middle of it was enough for anyone to feel like they should swallow their phone whole. 

But when Keqing indulged a teenaged son of a client by looking at pictures of his new kitten, a comfortable smile situated on her face, Ganyu pretended not to notice. 

Something shifted between them the day Keqing let down that olive branch. Or, more fittingly, that branch of catnip. 

Nothing substantially changed at work, of course. Ganyu still did her paperwork and Keqing did hers, but there were subtle nods shared between them whenever they passed each other on the way to the coffee machine, or blunted words instead of their usual sharpness when they disagreed. 

At the animal shelter, however, it all made the difference. 

Keqing would come in everyday right when Ganyu’s watch struck its usual arrow to remind her, and they’d share small talk while Ganyu refilled bowls and cleaned up toys from the floor. It was a bit stiff at first, with their only topics being about work and Morax’s cleaning habits, but Ganyu was proud to think that they had come a long way since then. 

She was still the one who had to initiate most of the conversation, though she knew that it wasn’t from lack of attention. Keqing nodded along to everything she said, adding on to her stories and advice like she studied and analyzed every word. It made Ganyu’s chest feel the way a cat would press itself against her. She worried that she bore the woman with her simple words, but Keqing had such a subtle way of showing that she wasn’t. 

And, it turned out, Keqing loved everything she said about Morax just as much. Deny it as she will, Ganyu knew that her tilted head and attentive eyes meant that she was actively hiding away her knowledge into organized files in her head.

Her five minute meetings with Morax became ten, which became fifteen, which doubled into half an hour. It stayed that way, and Ganyu was proud to think that she had a hand in convincing to make Keqing stretch her time so thin, but even then it felt much too short. 

“Morax’s favorite toy is the bamboo shoot,” she said one day. To make a point, Ganyu picked up the toy and tapped him on the nose, and he instantly tried to attack it with both his paws. His light eyes were brightened in ways only a young cat would. 

When Ganyu left the room after that, she turned around to see Keqing grinning happily while Morax bounced around the room with the toy in her hand. Ganyu had only seen her that satisfied with herself when she managed to approve a half a million dollar project in one pitch.

There was another time too, one that Ganyu knew she would remember like a clear paw print in the snow, when she walked in on Keqing sleeping on one of the couches with Morax’s head on her shoulder. 

She put up such a front with everyone she knew, and it almost felt like a sin to witness something so fragile, so vulnerable, whenever Keqing took down her walls for a cat she seemed enchanted with.

And it made her curious, despite her mantra to think that it was not her place to ask. 

“Keqing,” she said, and her voice came out much smaller than she hoped. So, she channeled her inner strength to try again and continue with, “What made you come in here?”

“For Morax,” Keqing answered stubbornly. Such an obvious answer, one that would’ve satisfied anyone else, but Ganyu was much too curious not to ask for more. 

“What about Morax captivated you enough to come see him all the time?” she asked. Morax bumped his head against her criss-crossed knee. Ganyu chuckled and picked up to lay him on her lap. She rubbed his cheek. “I don’t mean to be so nosy, I just thought it would be a good conversation starter. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I wouldn’t mind—”

“What about you?” Keqing asked. There was no bite to her words. Simple curiosity. “Morax seems to like you, and you reciprocate wholly.”

Ganyu tilted her head at her and smiled. “Are you answering me with a question like I’m corporate competition?”

Keqing seemed to grow embarrassed at that. She sank her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that— I was curious too, is what I meant.”

“I was just teasing,” she assured. Morax purred and chased her hand with his head, eyes closed. “The story’s too long to say in one go, but Morax was the one to convince me to volunteer here. I’ve loved him ever since.”

“Ah. Right,” Keqing said thoughtfully. She nodded, and she frowned while she played with the cuffs on her sleeves. Three separate lint rollers laid by her side. “I heard. He was struck by a car when he was a kitten, right?”

“It left him unadoptable. He was almost declared dead,” Ganyu explained further. Morax’s tail swished slowly from side to side while Ganyu continued to scratch behind his head. “By the time he recovered, he was too old to be… wanted, I suppose. He’s the oldest cat here, both by seniority and time spent in the building.”

“Oh.” Keqing’s soft admission made Ganyu’s heart feel like an open wound. She heard and lived through Morax’s story, but even its heartbreak didn’t compare to the way the sadness on Keqing’s face made her feel. 

When Keqing noticed her stare, she blinked, placating her face back to the neutral look she constantly wore. She cleared her throat subtly, and said, “I should be heading back soon.”

“Two more minutes,” Ganyu reminded. Mostly because she knew Keqing’s schedule like the back of her hand. But also because she dreaded the moments when Keqing would get up and leave.

“Can I ask you something a little bit personal before I go?” Keqing asked, and there was a twinge of uncertainty behind her words. 

Ganyu tried not to smile too much. “Sure, though I think our acquaintance status would have to be changed,” she teased, and Keqing rolled her eyes good-naturedly. 

“You clearly love him,” Keqing began, and Ganyu’s teasing smile fell off into an inquisitive look. “Why won’t you adopt him yourself?”

Ganyu tilted her head. “Why won’t you?”

“Is this what I get?” Keqing complained, and Ganyu laughed. 

“Maybe,” Ganyu said cryptidly, and Keqing shook her head. 

“I’m too busy for a cat,” she said solemnly, and Ganyu frowned at the sadness in her words, even if she did her best to mask them behind indifference. “These moments I have with you and Morax— they’re all I can spare. I wouldn’t be able to feed him, or play with him, or give him the time he needs to be truly happy with me.”

“I… see,” Ganyu said. She figured as much, but it made her sad all the same. “But even then, I can’t imagine you wouldn’t be half as lovely as you are to him now.”

Keqing let herself indulge in a little laugh. 

“And,” Keqing continued, surprising her with the candor in her tone, “I never thought of having an animal companion. They always seemed like a waste of time to me. Why cohabit yourself with something that can’t speak back to you? Or provide you with anything else?”

“Because they’re the truest form of peace,” Ganyu said. She surprised herself with her own words, and Keqing glanced over at her for a moment. 

“Yeah,” Keqing agreed. She reached over to scratch sleepy Morax behind the ear. He leaned into her touch, and a small smile was graced upon her lips. “I was having a… rough day, I guess you could call it, when I saw him. He was napping on the window sill when I was walking by and I couldn’t help but stare at him.” She laughed. “He made me so irrationally angry at first, did you know that? I was so angry at him for relaxing and being a— a cat, while I had to jump through hurdles to justify a nap for myself. But then he opened his eyes at me and…”

Keqing’s face softened. Ganyu had the innate desire to lean over to her. She resisted. 

“He would be so happy with you,” Keqing said. Ganyu lifted her head to look at her. Keqing’s eyes met her with the same intensity as she did with everyone else she felt the need to intimidate, but there was something more rounded under her gaze. Ganyu realized with a start that she was trying to convey something genuine to her. “Why can’t you adopt him?”

Ganyu released their gaze. She looked down at the cat on her lap, molded to the fitted criss-cross of her legs and his head drooping carefully on her thigh. She gingerly touched a paw on her knee. He twitched. 

“I’ve been waiting for someone to take care of him for me,” she admitted. “Just like you, I wouldn’t have the time. And I can’t help but hold onto that hope that maybe someday, I’ll— he’ll find someone to take care of him.”

Like you, she almost said. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” Keqing mused, almost to herself, “if the both of us could just have all the time in the world and take care of him like he takes care of us?” Then she chuckled, finally fixing the stray cuff on her sleeve, and fixed her blazer. “He’ll meet his match someday, Ganyu. Don’t lose hope,” she said, then got up on her feet to leave. 

Then, almost as if she remembered to say it, Keqing added, “But waiting around for miracles helps no one when you were already the miracle to begin with.”

Ganyu held Morax while Keqing said her goodbyes to him (one last scratch to the chin was all it took for her to smile), and she even decided to wave at Ganyu before disappearing into the bustling city. 

Ganyu glanced between the door and Morax’s big, curious, almost judgmental, eyes at her. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she reprimanded gently. He kept staring at her. 

She never adopted any of the dogs, no matter how many stole her heart, because she knew that once she adopted one, she wouldn’t stop adopting the others. It would cause a domino effect, she reasoned to herself multiple times, if she adopted one dog or one cat, she’d adopt them all out of guilt. Don’t get high on your own supply, was something Beidou had once said to her when she admitted that, and it was something she repeated to herself every time she was tempted to, no matter how stupid the analogy was. 

She was tempted to adopt Morax, more than a dozen different times, but even then she couldn’t bring herself to do it. There would be too much expected from her, too much anxiety, too much everything. 

Plus, there were better people than her, people who would spoil their pets with a dozen different toys and cuddles and open backyards— or, more importantly, she just didn’t want to play favorites, no matter how blatant her favoritism to Morax ran. 

But Morax was looking at her contemplatively. Wise, golden eyes peered into hers. They weren’t imploring in any way, and if they were, it was easy to brush them off as self-projection.

But then she thought of amethyst eyes, just as wise and just as kind, no matter how hard they seemed. 

Ganyu thought of the way they looked through her, watching her with a cat’s intense gaze. She thought of how soft they looked when she let herself breathe. When she let herself love. 

And then she made a decision.

“Ganyu?”

Keqing squeezed herself into the room. The storage room wasn’t really where Ganyu hoped this conversation would take place, but she supposed it would have to do. 

She quickly wiped off her hands on a towel and turned around to meet her. She almost hit her head on a top shelf.

“Your friend told me you had some news?” Keqing continued, and she glanced around Ganyu’s face for any sign of distress. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” Ganyu said, and she hated how squeaky they sounded to her. She pressed a bag of kibble deeper into the shelf, just to give her hand something to do. “Um… I don’t really know how to tell you this, even though I thought about it hours ago, but…” She laughed nervously.

“Ganyu.” Keqing’s voice was flat. Ganyu tried not to flinch and straighten her back in surprise. “What happened?”

“Well.” Ganyu chewed on her bottom lip. Keqing’s eyes were becoming more cat-like by the minute. She felt like she was sweating under her gaze. “Morax has been adopted. Officially unofficially.”

Keqing gaped at her. “What?”

“I haven’t signed his adoption papers yet!” Ganyu said hurriedly. “But when I’m finished with pressure washing the sidewalk, I will. When we were talking about adopting him, I realized I couldn’t just wait for a miracle, so…”

“Can you…” Keqing’s face morphed from emotion to emotion, much too fast for Ganyu to catch up with her. “Can you back up? For just a minute? You— adopted Morax? You?”

“About to,” Ganyu corrected meekly. 

“I—” Then Keqing sighed. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, a hand on her hip. Ganyu was familiar with this, considering she saw it every time Keqing was fed up with someone. “You told me just yesterday that you couldn’t adopt him,” she finally said, incredulous.

“I’m aware,” Ganyu said, smiling at her sheepishly. She hoped it would dispel the weird tension between them. 

“Why?”

Such a simple question to such a simple answer. 

But somehow, Ganyu needed it to be more complex than it needed to be. 

“It would be easier for me,” she began. It was off to a great start, at least to her. “But also to… to you. The commute to my apartment is much more convenient than from the shelter. If you’d like to see him, of course. No pressure! And also, I just thought I could finally do this because— because you made me realize that I’ve just been too scared to do it myself.”

Keqing kept gawking at her. 

“And I know!” she said hurriedly, putting her hands up. “I know you like him too. So, I wouldn’t mind it one bit if you want to stop by and see him. I mean, I wouldn’t be home a lot because I would be working or volunteering at the shelter or— you know, um, both, but I’ve been trying to make arrangements so I could spare some of it with Morax.”

“Did you…” Keqing pinched the bridge of her nose again. “Did you adopt him on a whim?”

“Uh…” Ganyu knew the answer was yes. She tried so hard to convince herself it was a no, because what message would she be giving to herself or to anyone if she allowed herself to make such a big decision on a whim? But then again, it was a decision in the making for years, ones that felt like eons, really, but it wasn’t like she could admit that Keqing was the primary catalyst for driving her to do this. “Well.”

How eloquently put, Ganyu. 

“Ganyu,” Keqing groaned. Ganyu lifted a finger to speak on it, trying her best to digress the truth and form them into words that could finally convince both of the ladies standing in the middle of a small storage room, but then Keqing said, “I came in here today to adopt him!”

What?

“What?” she said, echoing her thoughts. 

Keqing scratched the side of her cheek, and Ganyu noticed that she looked rather flustered. “I was thinking about it last night,” she admitted (see also: I was tossing and turning about it last night). She wouldn’t meet Ganyu’s eyes. “And I realized that… if I could spare some of my time to make it here then back to my apartment everyday without fail, then I’m sure I could do that with Morax at home and give him everything he could ever need.”

“Keqing.” Ganyu was the one gawking now. “You’re not serious?”

“Deathly,” Keqing said flatly. “So. Pardon me for being a little chagrined at the situation right now.” But the grin on her face reflected her amusement at their mishap. 

Ganyu couldn’t help but let out a bubbly laugh. 

“So. Heads or tails?” she said jokingly. The look Keqing gave to her made her realize that she made the mistake of turning it into a competition. 

Beidou printed out the adoption papers and handed them over to Keqing. 

“You know,” she said, and Ganyu made a face at her subtly behind Keqing’s back, “you guys could just share custody.”

“Is that something people could actually do?” Keqing said in disbelief.

Beidou shrugged. “Probably not. But I have a feeling you two will need it.”

“Beidou!” Ganyu hissed in between her teeth. 

Keqing merely laughed, Morax watching them contentedly in his kennel.

Ganyu nearly scared herself out of her wits when she turned around to be met with a mountain of boxes. She squinted enough to recognize the logos nearly painted on some of them, all from expensive cat toy companies she saw promoted on TV. 

Keqing cleared her throat and stuck her head from the side of the mountain. “I didn’t know what brand of bamboo shoots he liked,” she said with a guilty smile, “so I bought all of it.”

Ganyu helped her sort them on the counter, sparing her the teasing for after Morax settled in. Her thought of how cute towards her mannerisms was also left to be spared, though she couldn’t tell if it was for her sake or for Keqing’s. 

And as it turned out, Keqing loved spoiling Morax in more ways than she ever thought could be possible. 

She swore she was only gone in the bathroom for a couple minutes, but she came back to see Keqing smiling shrewdly at her with a “Delivery on the way!” notification on her desktop. But, as much as she didn’t understand Keqing’s fixation on the wonders of shop ‘till you drop, Ganyu could only shake her head and turn around to hide the twitch of her lips. 

Settling Morax in was a lot harder than she had ever dreamed of. She thought that his manners at the shelter meant that it would transition nicely over to a new home, though that was the complete opposite of what transpired in Keqing’s apartment. He took one step onto her polished floors and flicked his tail at them as he turned around to sleep in the kennel, not once bothering to look again. If that wasn’t enough, he shredded almost every expensive toy they threw at him, and he looked over at their anguished faces as if to ask them, “Is there more?”

“Spoiled cat,” Keqing said harshly, scrubbing the spot where he threw up expensive canned tuna in the kitchen. 

Ganyu laughed while she stroked his back. She could feel his stomach grumbling on her knee. “He’s probably just stressed out,” she told her reassuringly. “Give him some time, Keqing.”

“I know, I know—” Keqing rested her knees on the floor and dragged her hands over her face. She sighed irritably. “I just kinda… well, I’m more mad at myself that I put up all these expectations for his homecoming like it was a cat commercial or something.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Ganyu soothed. She didn’t blame her either, after all. Finally getting to have Morax, even if she wasn't the name on the paper, felt like a blessing from the stars. Having Keqing to be the one to give him a home was something that allayed every worry in her bones.

She put her hands on his chest and lifted him up to put his face side by side to hers. “Look at him. Isn’t he adorable?” she cooed, and he grumbled in her hands. “Sure, maybe a bit spoiled rotten, but isn’t he everything you could dream of?” she said teasingly. 

Keqing’s eyes softened when they settled on her. They flitted back to Morax, but the softened impact on her facial features stayed the same. 

“Yes,” she finally said, words strangely soft, and Ganyu flashed her an encouraging smile. Keqing shifted her weight then cleared her throat. Her hands came up to fix an invisible tie, and her mannerisms seemed almost nervous.

But they dispelled in a lazy cat blink of an eye, and Keqing added, “Do you mind getting the paper towels?”

“Oh! Not at all.”

So maybe having Morax wasn’t the homecoming they both hoped for. 

There were scratches and bandaids, barf and soggy paper towels, hairballs and coughs— but honestly, everything was worth it. 

Everything was worth it, because it felt so right to have a cat purring gently on her lap while Keqing laid a hand on her thigh for Morax to swat at, an old vinyl record playing a gentle jazz tune on the record player. 

A domesticated cat, it seemed, was a puzzle piece she needed to feel somewhat at home. 

They were both terrifyingly busy ladies who never had the time to even say they had free time, but somehow, the few minutes where they had to take care of Morax together felt as sacred as the tending of silk flowers. 

Keqing was astute to recognize her reasonable fears. There were times when they completely forgotten that there was a cat to be fed at home, but two scattered brains were better than one. If Keqing forgot to feed Morax, Ganyu was there to remind her— on the flip side of the coin, if Ganyu forgot to buy more soothing oils, Keqing was there to buy them for her. 

Beidou was relentless in her teasing about their efforts to raise Morax, but Ganyu tried her best not to let the embarrassment surface onto her face. Even though Keqing no longer needed to go to the shelter to visit her only bargaining chip, Ganyu still perked up at the sound of the wind chimes in the late afternoon, a muscle memory that never seemed to fade away. It only solidified her friend’s teases. 

It didn’t help that at least once or twice a week, Keqing would indeed come into the shelter, but it seemed her bargaining chip had turned away from Morax and turned into her. She’d come by to ask her if she was okay with taking care of Morax for the following morning or the upcoming weekend, citing reasons that ranged from business trips to shopping trips with her friends. As thanks, Keqing would more often than not drop off a basket of Ganyu’s favorite treats (and that certainly did not help her case with Beidou’s inquisitive stares). 

Ganyu never had the heart to refuse her or subtly point out that yes, they lived in a century where text messages existed and arduous side trips from her duties weren’t exactly required. 

With that alone, she learned to bare with the jabs at her side and the waggled eyebrows. Even Xiao, the quiet volunteer who tended primarily to kittens, would look over at them with slight curiosity on his face. 

Sometimes at work, when they both get off at the same time, they would walk to Keqing’s apartment together. The first time their coworkers noticed, they were given blatant stares and odd looks. She realized that there was no point in explaining themselves, as explaining that they were technically (technically!) raising a cat together was going to cause more trouble than it was worth. 

Ganyu also noticed that with each passing day, their time together would lengthen itself— slowly, in minute increments, to the point that Ganyu herself hadn’t noticed because the development was so forgiving and gradual that it felt like boiling a frog. 

Little play sessions with Morax turned into dinner, which turned into lengthy discussions about infrastructure, which turned into debates about the exact color of Morax’s eyes, which turned into promises of nights spent over to pour over a collection of DVDs. 

Ganyu guiltily felt like she could get used to their shenanigans, and she selfishly hoped that Morax won’t stop doing whatever he was doing so Keqing could keep coming and needing her help. As selfishly stupid as it sounded. 

There was something that was gonna leap out of the pot soon, but she couldn’t find it in herself to wonder too harshly what it was. 

Eventually, about a month and a few weeks into their endeavors, Keqing bluntly held out a key to her. 

“What’s this?” she said with a frown. Keqing placed the key in the middle of her palm, and it was warm from being kept in a pocket. It was small, but she could make out the care put into welding it. 

“A spare key. To my apartment,” Keqing said matter-of-factly. 

Ah. 

Oh.

Wait. 

“K— key? To your— did you say your apartment? Like this apartment? As in, this— this apartment?” Ganyu sputtered, and she pointed almost frantically at the apartment door. 

Keqing’s lips curled into an amused smile. She crossed her arms and leaned backwards onto her kitchen counter. She tilted her head as she said, “Yeah. What other apartment do I have?”

“You know that’s an unfair question,” Ganyu said flatly. Keqing grinned. 

“Well,” Keqing said, and she shrugged carelessly. As if she wasn’t literally handing Ganyu a copy of the key to her apartment— which obviously a sane person would know to never do. “Sometimes I’m out too late. Or too early, most days. I know you don’t ask because you don’t want it to be a hassle, but I know sometimes you want to see Morax when I’m not there to let you into the apartment.”

“That’s not—” she argued, but Keqing raised her hand. 

“Morax is as much of mine as he’s yours,” she explained, and the intense look Keqing was giving her was somehow much more pleasant than she could have anticipated. “He doesn’t let anyone else even see him unless it’s you or me. And you love him. You let me adopt him because I won the coin toss, but I know you would have let me have him anyway regardless. I want you to see him at any point you want to.”

“Keqing,” Ganyu said. That was all she said, because nothing could come out. 

“Let me do this for you,” Keqing told her, and Ganyu finally recognized the intense look on her face— it wasn’t the piercing warning she gave to her business partners, but rather a kind, imploring look. “Besides, you’ve been here more times than I can count. I’m not worried about you doing anything in here you’re not supposed to.”

There was a beat of silence.

Morax came in and chirped, then padded over to rub his leg against her shin in greeting. 

When Ganyu looked up to see Keqing again, she was watching the both of them. She looked content, almost. 

“If you insist,” she finally relented, and that’s when it started. 

Or, maybe it started a bit longer before then, but that trust put on her was the catalyst that spurred her to realize that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t the cat that drove her to do the things she did. 

On days when Keqing was out too late with a lengthy project, she would cook food on her stove and leave a steaming plate on her table before she left. After a couple days of back and forths of instances like that, Ganyu opened Keqing’s fridge to see a new selection of vegetables and vegetarian meats. 

Sometimes, they exchanged sticky notes on the counter, all plastered over the basket of fruits for the yellow square to be the first thing noticed when walking through the door. There were days when they didn’t cross paths due to work and commitments, but Morax was always the one to be the bridge of their encounters. There were small reminders to buy more cat toys or food, or simple “Don’t stress yourself out, you got this!” messages on days when one or the other had important meetings to attend to. 

Gifts like small flowers or novelty items from cities across theirs were common, as well as pressed knees when they played with Morax on the couch when they had the time to spare. 

It only hit Ganyu that these things had come up into her life so fast that she didn’t recognize what they were until Keqing got a call in the middle of their debate about the best kind of tea.

Morax complained when she lifted up his limp body to place him onto Ganyu’s lap, but she laughed as she did so. 

“Ningguang needs me for advice,” she explained. Morax writhed on her lap before settling nicely. 

Ganyu nodded thoughtfully at that. “Will you be home late or should I wait for you to come back to help me bathe Morax?” she said, half jokingly. 

Keqing laughed at that. She seemed to laugh more and more with each passing day, and it was a fact that never failed to fill the pride in her heart. “Don’t wait. I’ll bring you home those flowers you like in the morning,” she said. Ganyu hummed approvingly at that. 

Then Keqing put a palm on the coffee table between them to lean on it, all to press a chaste kiss on her hairline. That was when it finally seemed to click for Ganyu. 

It was exactly a second after her lips left her skin when they both finally froze. 

Even Morax seemed to stop in place.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Keqing said, and even her steady words took on an edge. She pulled away so fast that Ganyu could only helplessly blink as she put on her coat in record time. “There’s some vegetable soup on the stove, I already fed Morax his dinner, don’t wait for me, closethedoorandputinthesecuritycodebeforeyouleave, see you tomorrow!”

Then another blink, and Keqing was gone like lightning in a blue sky. 

Ganyu put two fingers on her hairline. It felt warm under her fingertips.

“Ah,” she said simply. 

Morax meowed in agreement. 

Ganyu turned quickly enough to watch a figurine on the wall crash to the ground. Morax slinked away into his cubby hole. 

“Really?” she complained, and she hurried over to pick it up and inspect enough. There was a scratch on its head, but otherwise, nothing was damaged. She huffed and put it back up, but pushed it much deeper against the wall. “Morax, you can’t keep jumping up there and expect me to clean up after you!”

He only blinked at her from the depths of the cat tower. Even then, she could tell that he seemed unperturbed by her chiding. 

Ganyu glared at him one more time, albeit weakly, before pivoting back on her heel to finish cooking the vegetable spring rolls. They snapped and crackled on the stove loud enough for it to drown out the door handle’s jiggle. 

“Oooh,” a familiar voice said approvingly, and every displeasure placed in her muscles from Morax’s antics faded away into hairballs under the couch. “That smells divine. Spring rolls for tonight?”

“I do remember you saying you were craving them this morning,” Ganyu hummed, and she tried not to jump five feet in the air when Keqing slid over next to her with the grace and subtlety of a cat. 

Keqing was so close that Ganyu could smell the faintness of misted flowers on her, a smell so familiar and warm to her that she would have collapsed on the spot and napped if it weren't for the intensity of her gaze as she perused the food frying on her stove. Her lips curled eventually, and she nodded approvingly. 

“I should have adopted Morax eons ago,” she said jokingly. She walked off to shed the coat on her shoulders, kicking off her flats as she did so. Over her shoulder, she continued, “It would have helped me save money from buying take-out so much.”

“Even if you didn’t, you could have just asked me to make you something once in a while,” Ganyu said genuinely, and Keqing hummed ambiguously at that. Or all the time, if you prefer, the quiet part of her mind said, and every other part of her mind shushed it. 

“And then what? I send flowers to your office in gratitude?” Keqing retorted, and Ganyu laughed. 

She crept by her to coo over Morax, who had already emerged from his housing to chirp happily at her. Keqing picked him up from under the arms and kissed him all over the face, murmuring little words of sweetness to him while he graciously let her rub his face on her without mercilessly scratching her up like the rest of their friends. As long as they kept him well-fed and well-played, Morax seemed to take it as their contract to let them live another day without a bandaid on their nose. 

And, in all honesty, Ganyu stayed so late at night just to witness this as often as she could. Cold and calculating Keqing, all reduced to a cooing cat lady right after a business meeting. It was both shocking, amusing, and adorable, like a spring roll of emotions that roiled in her chest whenever she saw this side of her friend. 

She looked down at the food she was cooking to bat away the thoughts in her head, but she let herself smile when Keqing let out a careless laugh as Morax rubbed against her chest. 

Ganyu would do anything to keep things the way they were. 

“Ganyu?”

“Hmm?” She looked up to meet Keqing’s speculative look, and she shot her a sheepish quirk of the lips. “I didn’t catch that, sorry.”

“After you finish cooking, do you want me to put on a movie?” she repeated. Morax was put down, which he immediately took as a sign to hop on the couch and curl up to watch them. As always, waiting. “I don’t mind if you pick tonight.”

“What a truly kind gesture, Keqing, you have my many thanks,” she teased dramatically, and Keqing rolled her eyes. She used chopsticks to take out the ones that were beginning to brown while Keqing walked around the apartment to find the remote.

“What do you feel like?” Keqing finally said, fishing the remote out from in between the cushions. Ganyu could hear the familiar click of the TV. “Romance? Comedy? Romance-comedy? Can I finally convince you to watch that home improvement show you were convinced you would sleep through?”

“Because I will!” Ganyu argued, and she pointed her chopsticks accusingly at Keqing. “Why would you want to watch a TV show about your own job?”

“Job-adjacent,” Keqing corrected, but there was a twinge of amusement to her tone. 

“Yes, because that makes it so much better,” she countered, and Keqing snorted at her response. The stove was taken off the heat and the oil was beginning to simmer down. Morax meowed incessantly at that, knowing that his time for food was approaching. 

“Okay! Okay, you decrepit dumb cat, come with me,” Keqing huffed, picking up their cat over her chest to bring him to the other room nearby for his food. But then she stopped and poked her head out the kitchen, gathering Ganyu’s attention. “Can you bring the food in front of the TV? I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, and smiled at Ganyu in a way that made her heart do little swishes of a cat toy. 

“Take all the time you need,” Ganyu assured, and she was gone to tend to their needy cat. Morax had a tendency to take forever to enjoy his food, after all. 

The spring rolls were placed on a plate with a paper towel with each delicate grab of her chopsticks. After that, she sighed, running her hands over her face. She stayed like that for a minute. 

What was she thinking, cooking dinner and waiting in front of the TV for Keqing like she was allowed to? They’d evolved from coworkers to acquaintances to friends, to whatever this arrangement was, with bickering and calls about picking up groceries and “What would you like for dinner tomorrow?”s all week long. 

Somehow, she went from taking care of a cat to taking care of a person she harbored too much for. Was that so wrong?

Ganyu took a look at her plate of cooked food, as well as the open TV and the couch with stray cat hairs poking out from the surface. 

She certainly hoped not. 

She balanced the plates and the cups from the crooks and surfaces of her arms, then let go of them to be arranged on the coffee table, just in the way they both liked it. It was a practiced act, after all, and she knew how Keqing liked to eat her food in the exact order she consumed them. Self consciously, she tilted the chopsticks on the side of Keqing’s plate, just in case she thought they looked too neat. 

Or maybe she liked them neat and uniform? But would that be too weird? Oh, she should just stop it. Ganyu clapped her hands over her cheeks and inhaled deeply, then looked up at the ceiling. 

There was a carrot toy hanging above her, half dangling from the top of Morax’s shiny new cat tower. She righted herself and lowered her hands from her face. She forgot that they were still in the apartment, with Keqing probably urging Morax to chew faster and Morax chewing slower and meeting her eyes in spite (if, well, cats could have spite). 

Ganyu got up from her position on the couch and made her way to the other room, a spare room that Keqing turned into Morax’s due to the lack of conventional use. She cracked the door open, tending to rap on the door. 

She only allowed herself to hesitate when she noticed that Keqing was sitting on her knees, petting Morax on the head. His food bowl was empty, and though Keqing’s back was facing her, Ganyu immediately recognized the soft inclinations of her words.

“You ancient, stupid cat,” Keqing said, though Ganyu couldn’t stop the smile that approached her lips at the irony of the gentleness of her tone. “You’re lucky she loves you, you know that? If she didn’t, I would have had you kicked off the streets for scratching me like that.”

Morax opened an eye to look at her, almost smugly. Almost knowingly.

“Ugh!” she said irritably, and she patted Morax’s head harshly enough for him to mewl in complaint. “You know why you’re spoiled like a four-year-old toddler? You’re cute even though you’re irritating sometimes. But you’re also the reason why she comes here so often.”

Ganyu’s breath hitched.

“Stupid cat,” she murmured under her breath, and Morax meowed and tilted his head at her, as if digging at her to continue. “I know you’re laughing at me. See? Even right now! You’re looking down on me— you have no right to judge me, Morax, you don’t know what I—” Keqing paused then, both in her ramble and the hand stroking his head. Morax looked up at her slowly, and she laughed despite herself. 

“What am I doing, Morax?” she said quietly. Ganyu felt like this was the part where she turned around and pretended not to hear anything— but her feet felt like they were glued to the floor. “Why is it so hard for me to just be like, ‘Heyyy Ganyu, are you… free tonight?’” Then Keqing laughed harder at herself, and she leaned back to sit down on the floor. Morax hopped into her lap, obstructing himself from Ganyu’s view. 

“Jeez… that sounded stupid even hypothetically,” she grumbled, and Ganyu felt like she had lost the ability to breathe by herself. “What if I just went… ‘Hey baby, cat got your ton—?’ Ugh! That’s even worse!” She bleghed at herself, and Morax chirped at the agitation and amusement mingling in her voice. “How the hell do you do it, Morax? I mean, I don’t think you’ve ever had… cat ladies or whatever, but you gotta be old enough to at least know how. So how?”

Just tell me, Ganyu begged her. That’s all you have to do. That’s all you really need to do. 

“How do I tell Ganyu I love her so much that I’d be on hairball duty for the rest of my life to make her happy?” Keqing picked him up to look him in the eye. “How do you tell someone as wonderful and kind and— and as compassionate as her without making a fool of yourself, Morax? Is that even possible?”

Morax didn’t reply. Instead, he looked over her head to meet Ganyu’s eyes. His golden eyes held a greeting to her. 

Ganyu, embarrassed that she had been caught eavesdropping by a cat of all things, immediately turned around to walk back to the other room as quietly and quickly as she could. Her heart thrummed like an earthquake in her chest, incessant and undeterred. She let the tremors in her hands play out by fixing and moving the plates and chopsticks on their table. 

By the time Keqing came back, the drumming in her heart slowed to a steady, solid rhythm. Morax sauntered in and locked eyes with her, then jumped on top of the couch to be beside her. His tail hit her neck and she moved it away distractedly, smiling at Keqing as unobtrusive as possible. 

“Did you pick a movie?” Ganyu asked casually. 

Keqing raised a curious eyebrow. “I thought you were going to pick one?” 

“Oh! Yes, of course— ummm…” She flicked her eyes over the selections in a panic, then landed on the first one she saw that seemed interesting enough. “That one. Bottom right.”

“The… documentary on cat domestication?” When Ganyu nodded vigorously, Keqing nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. That’s fine.”

They watched the documentary in silence. They shared food and stories during the most dull moments, but Keqing seemed to enjoy it well enough. She commented on some of the aspects, either correcting the facts it states or nodding to the advice the narrator would give out about cat care.

All the while, Morax’s tail tickled her ear and neck, almost compellingly. Whenever she batted it out of the way, it would come back to bother her some more. 

“Morax!” she hissed under her breath, and both cat and friend turned to look at her curiously at her unprecedented outburst. She cleared her throat and put down her chopsticks, embarrassed, and picked up his tail to curl it against him. Morax blinked at her, then put down his head to take a nap. 

She turned to look at Keqing. She was already looking at Ganyu with a worried stitch of her brow. “His tail was bothering me,” she said quickly, and Keqing nodded in understanding. 

The thrum in her chest came back to haunt her with a steady rhythm when Keqing squeezed her hand and puffed out a laugh under her breath. Each swallow of her food felt like a jagged rock. 

Once the movie ended, Keqing wasted no time to switch their activities. Always the efficient one, it seemed, but Ganyu couldn’t help but notice the fact that she let herself waste time when it came to childishly speaking to Morax. 

“Do you feel like rock or jazz tonight?” Keqing asked her.

They already both knew the answer, but Keqing still nodded when she answered, “Jazz, please.” 

Plus, even if she enjoyed rock the way Keqing did, she doubted that it would help with calming down the light flutters of her fingertips and chest. 

They made ample conversation as it played, carrying on around the apartment like a blanket of warmth. Not that Ganyu really needed it, because the sight of Morax sleeping on Keqing’s lap alone while she stroked him with a tranquil smile was enough to fulfill even the most nervous parts of her heart. 

What was it that Keqing tried on her? A pick-up line?

Was that really how this was going to happen?

Did she want that?

At the face Ganyu made, Keqing pressed her eyebrows together in concern. “Ganyu? Is something wrong?”

“No, no. I’m fine,” she managed to squeeze out. 

“Are you sure?” Keqing moved closer to her, just by a fraction. “You get the same look on your face when you can’t decide if you should get red or white flowers for the office.”

“It’s fine, really,” she insisted.

“Ganyu, if something’s bothering you, you know I’m here.”

“Please, I do mean it— I’m fine.”

“Well, clearly not!” Keqing looked increasingly worried. “You’re turning red. And you look— well, I’d say constipated, but you also look lost and—”

“I just got a cat!” she blurted out, and Keqing raised her eyebrows. “I got a— a cat on my… tongue. Cat got. On my tongue. My cat— um. Morax… got my tongue?”

“What are you…?” Keqing looked utterly confused. Then as Ganyu’s words settled down like a fine leaf on a river, her facial features were beginning to soften, while Ganyu only looked more flustered by the minute. “Ganyu, did you hear me? Lately, with Morax?”

“Yes,” she squeaked out, and she played with her nails in shame. “I wasn’t trying to! I…”

“Ganyu.” Keqing was dumbfounded. “Did you really just try to use my own line on me?” 

Ganyu blinked. Then blinked again. “Yes?”

There was a brief moment where nothing seemed to happen. Everything seemed to be tossed into the air, all to be suspended. 

But then Morax yawned, sauntered forward, and slinked away by cutting in between their faces. The soft pitter-patters of his paws faded away. 

Then Keqing laughed. Laughed, fully, like she always did with Ganyu, with a side of relief and delight as everything came down on her, the same way it was when Morax swiped everything off the counters when they cleaned together. Chaotic and gleeful and boisterous. 

“Ganyu.” Keqing said her name this time with much more joy, and Ganyu found it hard not to reflect it. She lifted Ganyu’s chin up with a curled finger, and the shimmering delight in her eyes made her realize how much of a fool she was to ever think that everything between them was only secondary. 

“I think Morax really did get your tongue,” she said teasingly, but then she lowered her head, and Ganyu parted her lips in surprise. “So I’ll make it easy on you. Can I kiss you?”

No words came out of her lips, no matter how hard she willed them. So, she simply nodded. 

And their kiss was mellow, affectionate in every aspect— everything that made her feel like spring rolls for dinners and fresh vegetables on the way home and a box of new cat toys arriving on the front steps. Hands were frozen before they moved, fingertips ghosted over goosebumped skin. She could tell that Keqing was as nervous as she was, from the brief clash of their teeth and the way she had to wipe her hands on the couch. But, it was perfect. The hum of her contentment made every nerve vibrate with energy, zeroing in on a goal that she finally, finally got to settle her score with. 

This was perfect. 

Except, she hummed thoughtfully, and Keqing pulled away from her like she was sprayed with water. Before Keqing could ask her, she said, “This means we can adopt a dog too, right?”

When Keqing stared at her, bewildered, Ganyu smiled. “I’m more of a dog person myself, you know.”

And when Keqing giggled with her, holding her face, Morax meowing and sitting at their feet like he accomplished something, maybe she could make a compromise to hold off on that dog. Because was already more than what she could ask for. 

“You’re impossible to please,” Keqing quipped. Ganyu laid her head on her chest, exhausted from the expulsion of tension from her body. She could feel the vibrations of Keqing’s voice. “But, if that’s something that I have to do for you… then fine, I’ll walk to the shelter right now and get you one.”

“No,” Ganyu murmured tiredly against her shoulder. She couldn’t tell if the buzz in her ears were from the adrenaline or the sudden cold through her windows. “Stay here. For… for as long as you want.”

When Keqing kissed the crown of her head, it sealed everything for her in a red stamp. 

She didn’t need to say it, she knew, because Keqing knew exactly how happy she felt. 

Having her tongue tied by a cat wasn’t the end of the world, when she had someone who recognized the words in her heart anyhow.