My cat Urus - 2

Brad slammed the door shut behind him, chest rising and falling. He tossed Urus, whatever he was, onto the carpet like a bag of laundry, then spun and pressed his back to the door. His heart was pounding like he had just run a mile.

Footsteps. A muffled voice.

His parents were coming downstairs.

“Oh no no no,” he hissed, eyes wide. “Not now.”

He turned to Urus, who hovered inches off the ground, swirling with faint light.

“You need to hide. Now!”

Urus tilted his head, unblinking. “Hide? I do not..”

“Hide! Like, be not visible. Disappear, I don’t care, just vanish! My mom’s coming!”

Without a sound, Urus faded like smoke curling away in the wind. In a blink, he was gone. Or at least invisible. Brad stared at the spot, jaw tight, hoping that somehow worked.

The door creaked.

Brad spun around just as it opened, and his mom peeked in, blinking sleepily.

“Brad?” she asked. “You okay?”

He forced a grin, heart still hammering. “Yeah. Just… hot. Couldn’t sleep.”

She looked past him, eyes scanning the room like they always did when she suspected something.

“No one’s here?”

Brad’s stomach twisted. “What? No, Mom. Who would be here? It’s like midnight.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Your window’s open.”

“Yeah, for air.”

She stepped into the room, looking around. Her gaze lingered on the carpet where the crater-dust still clung in small grey patches. Brad subtly moved his foot to cover them.

“You didn’t hear a bang or anything?” she asked.

Brad shrugged. “Maybe thunder. I dunno.”

She stared at him a second longer, then sighed. “You’ve got school tomorrow. Try to sleep, alright?”

“Yeah. Will do.”

As she turned and pulled the door closed behind her, Brad let out a long, shaky breath. His legs gave out and he slid to the floor, hand pressed to his forehead.

Silence.

Then, Urus’s voice again, soft but cold.

“Fascinating. So… limited.”

Brad jumped. “Jesus!”

Urus shimmered back into sight, floating just above the bed now. His form still resembled a cat, but abstract, like something unfinished. His glowing eyes fixed on Brad.

“I assumed this form out of respect for the vessel I borrowed,” Urus said. “It was not necessary.”

“Yeah well, maybe try not to freak me out for five minutes,” Brad muttered.

Urus hovered down slightly. “You seem troubled by authority.”

Brad blinked. “You’re… judging me now?”

“No,” Urus said. “Merely observing. That is my role now.”

Brad squinted. “Your role?”

Urus paused. For the first time, the light around him dimmed slightly. Something about his posture shifted, like the weight of memory was pressing him down.

“I was once exalted,” he said slowly. “I traveled dimensions. Manipulated matter. Observed stars collapse and new worlds be born. My voice shaped laws of reality in younger realms.”

Brad stared, blinking slowly. “...Cool.”

Urus’s eyes glowed brighter, but the tone had shifted. “I was not sent here by choice. I spoke when I should have listened. Interfered when I should have watched. For that… I was cast into the physical, made small, and bound to this planet. To observe humans until I understand what was denied to me.”

Brad frowned. “So… you're, like, a cosmic babysitter now?”

Urus narrowed his glowing eyes. “You are a peculiar species.”

“Thanks. You’re not exactly textbook normal either.” Brad rubbed his neck. “So you’re stuck here? What happens when you ‘understand humans,’ huh? You ascend again or something?”

“I do not know,” Urus admitted. “But I sense this form... may allow me to learn through you.”

Brad stared.

“Wait. Me?”

“You brought me here. Your actions have linked us. I now see through your eyes. I feel the weight of your thoughts. You are... accessible.”

Brad groaned. “Great. So I’ve got a glowing cat-spirit alien roommate who thinks I’m a good case study.”

He looked up at Urus again, eyes narrowing.

“Fine. You watch. But I’m not gonna start holding hands and learning life lessons or whatever.”

Urus pulsed gently with light.

“We shall see.”

Brad yawned as he locked his bike outside Southview High, backpack heavy on one shoulder. The sun was already too bright, and he hadn’t slept more than three hours.

“Urus,” he muttered under his breath. “You still here?”

“Of course.” The voice echoed softly in his mind now, like a radio signal tuned to just him. “I exist beyond place.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe ‘beyond place’ should shut up while I survive first period.”

Urus didn’t reply, which was rare, but Brad took it as a small win.

Classes were their usual blur of half-interest. English, then Math. Brad slouched into his seat, trying not to draw attention, until something brushed his ear.

“This room smells of crushed ambition and hormonal confusion.”

Brad jumped, earning a weird glance from the girl next to him.

“Not now,” he hissed under his breath, looking at his desk.

“You told me to be quiet. I was.”

Brad grit his teeth. Urus floated just beneath his desk, visible only to him, like a ripple of heat, a shimmer in the air. The creature poked around, brushing past desks and peering at students’ notebooks, completely fascinated.

“You humans repeat facts to each other that none of you believe. And yet you’re rewarded for writing them down. Curious.”

Brad whispered, “I swear if you talk during the quiz, I’m gonna have a psychic breakdown.”

“I would like to see that.”

But then, just as quickly, Urus drifted away like mist slipping under the door.

Brad blinked. “...Wait. Where are you going?”

“Elsewhere. Your routine lacks novelty. I desire stimulus.”

And he was gone.

Brad actually felt lighter, like a pressure behind his eyes had lifted. The rest of class passed in peace. So did the next one. He almost started thinking maybe Urus had gotten bored enough to leave for good.

Then lunch hit.

Brad sat under one of the big trees in the courtyard, picking at a sandwich, when Urus reappeared, abruptly, like he’d been there the whole time.

“I return.”

Brad choked. “You can’t just do that!”

“I can and did.”

Urus hovered near his shoulder now, a soft shimmer visible only to him. The spirit pulsed faintly, as if energized.

“I have observed new subjects. Females. Interesting creatures.”

Brad blinked. “...What?”

“Your females are superior in emotional intelligence, self-awareness, and social nuance. Physically limited in some contexts, but often underestimated. I would have learned more paired with one of them.”

Brad stared. “Are you seriously complaining that you’re stuck with me?”

“I state facts. You are defensive. Typical male behavior.”

Brad sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You ditched me for an hour, eavesdropped on random girls, and now you’re judging me?”

“They were discussing intimate matters with exceptional openness. One even wept and was immediately embraced by her companions. Your gender does not typically share such bonds in public. Fascinating.”

“I’m not gonna cry in front of the lacrosse team just to impress you,” Brad muttered.

Urus shimmered brighter for a moment, as if amused.

“I’m beginning to understand your aversion to connection. You are not unintelligent. Simply... emotionally stunted.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Brad snapped. “You either stop psychoanalyzing me like I’m your sad little lab rat, or go float around the girls’ locker room until someone calls animal control.”

Urus hovered in silence for a beat. Then, gently:

“Perhaps you are more interesting than I assumed.”

Brad threw a pebble at him. It passed right through.