Trouvaille [Dreamnotfound/Gream]

5. Cats are a valid conversation topic

The cold breeze was gusting through the branches of the trees, making the green leaves dance elegantly. It was late evening and slightly colder than it was in the morning. The park wasn't as crowded, but there were people nevertheless. 

George was strolling through the park with hands in his pockets to keep warm. Winston, who's fur was thick and fluffy, didn't feel any different and kept on wagging his tail contently, sniffing every other tree. He was in the park for at least ten minutes but there was no sign of Clay anywhere. 

He decided to go sit down on one of the oak benches underneath a couple of trees. He leant down to pet Winston, when suddenly a pair of warm hands went over George's eyes, "Guess who!" 

George snorted, a smile growing on his lips. "Hmm I wonder who it is," said George, placing his hands on top of the ones on his face, pulling them down gently and looking up, smiling even wider when his eyes met Clay's bright ones. 

"Hi," said Clay, looking around and making sure that Denver was still there. He pulled his hands back and reached down to pet his golden retriever, before sitting down next to George.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting but I figured that we never really decided on a time," Clay continued, George listening intently. "Yeah, but we still managed to come around the same time." George added and Clay nodded.

"I would have came sooner if it wasn't for Patches," Clay blurted out and George raised an eyebrow. "My cat, Patches, didn't cooperate today." 

"You have a cat? I have a cat as well," exclaimed George, leaning back on the bench. Clay's eyes shifted in his direction, "His name is Cat."

"Who names their cat Cat?" Clay laughed, shaking his head in an amused way. George crossed his arms and let out a 'hmpf'. "Who names their cat Patches?" 

Clay's laughter ceased slightly, shrugging at the comment. "My cat has patches on her fur. A nice brown pattern if you will. What's your excuse?" 

"Well," George began in a professional manner, holding his index finger up, "My cat is in fact a cat." 

Clay resumed laughing, the resemblance of a kitchen kettle uncanny. George began laughing too, resting his chin in his hand. "You're so weird." Clay grinned, his cheeks heating up from all the laughing. George chuckled at the remark. "You're quite quirky yourself," said George, glancing down at the dogs which were busy wagging their tails.

"We are so bizarre," Clay acknowledged simply, resting his arms on the top of the bench, "I love how the first thing we talk about is cats."

George exhaled through his nose sharply, looking back at Clay. "Well, for starters, cats are amazing," George commented, Clay nodding in agreement, "and secondly, what do you want us to talk about?" 

Clay pretended to think, making George chuckle. "Hmm, maybe since we just met today, we should get to know each other? I'll start. I'm Clay and I'm 20 years old," he answered, pausing for George to say something about himself. George noticed the silence and widened his eyes slightly in realisation.

"I'm 23," said George and Clay scrunched up his nose, putting his hands in front of him, "Ew, you're old." 

George let out a confused 'what', which made Clay wheeze loudly. He felt his cheeks get warmer, Clay's contagious laugh making him giggle as well. He covered his face slightly, smiling into the palm of his hand, "I don't even want to know what Lukas and Charlie will think of you."

Clay's emerald eyes met George's brown ones. "Who are they?" Clay inquired, letting his hand fall to the side of the bench, running his hand through Denver's soft fur. George caught his breath, removing his hand from his face.

"My friends. They decided that they wanted to walk Winston with me tomorrow and I suggested I'd introduce them to you" George answered, giving Winston a tiny rub as he yapped in response, his tongue hanging from the side of his open mouth. 

"Well, I can't wait to meet them," said Clay, his voice laced with sincerity. George couldn't help but smile at the comment, his eyes darting to look around the park. He could see a few other dogs but nothing too interesting. His eyes trailed back to his friend sitting next to him. "They can't wait to meet you too," George added, making Clay beam.

There was a short silence before Clay got up, startling George by the sudden movements. "We should walk around or else we'll both get hypothermia on this bench," said Clay, gesturing Denver to get up, who immediately obliged, making Winston get up as well. George stood up as well, instantly feeling a wave of tingles wash over his legs.

They walked for a while, talking contently while the dogs jogged next to one another. They walked around the park, Clay stopping abruptly when they were back where they started. "It was nice talking to you, George. I should head back now because I have to go find my cat." Clay stated and George cocked his head.

"You let your cat out?" George asked curiously and Clay nodded, putting his hands into his coat pocket. "Yeah, she usually finds her way home but today I couldn't find her anywhere," He added, providing more context. George could feel the atmosphere shifting into an uncomfortable slence.

"I have an idea," said George, squeezing Clay's hand reassuringly, "How about I go return Winston and then we can look for Patches together." 

Clay smiled a small smile, nodding. The two walked towards George's apartment complex, heading up the stairs and George knocking on Lana's door, earning another beam from the elderly lady. Then, the two young adults raced down the stairs, Denver trailing behind them, clearly happy that his owner was accompanied by another person. 

The three of them walked towards Clay's apartment complex, looking around the dark streets which were only illuminated by the lamps on the sides of the sidewalks. Clay tried calling out her name, walking slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the feline. The minutes began to tick by and he was growing more desperate. George, on the other hand, was growing more confident that they were going to find her. 

'It was normal for cats to go missing for a few days,' George kept telling Clay, who after twenty minutes was beyond frustrated. They decided to call it a day.

"Thank you for trying to help," said Clay weakly, attempting to keep things positive. George sighed, giving Clay a quick hug. Taken aback, Clay stood there completely rigid, until George pulled away. 

"Don't worry, Patches will show up eventually," George reassured him, trying to calm him down. Clay nodded, staring at him before hesitantly pulling out his phone. "Can I get your phone number? Just in case." 

"Sure. I was actually going to ask you sooner or later, so I'm glad that you brought it up," said George, taking Clay's phone and handing his own phone to him. They exchanged numbers and return the phones to one another, George waving and turning around to head home. 

The wind was getting stronger and George felt his cheeks burn from the cold. It was only March but it was still quite chilly. He arrived at his apartment in fifteen minutes, taking out his keys to open the door, when he heard a faint rustling sound. George turned around curiously, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. His eyes widened when he heard a soft meow.