Leroy wasn't sure why he had agreed to go into the man's house. He barely even remembered his name. He was sure it was Zack, or something to that extent. The man looked just as shocked, himself. Those deep hazel eyes opened wide as a small, "Oh, okay, then" left the man's lips.

"The house is a bit of a mess, so don't mind that," he said, turning his chair before opening the door. Leroy realized that it was open for him and hurried up the porch stairs before walking past the man who rolled on his chair right behind him.

The first thing he noticed was how 'hollow' the place seemed—empty and only littered with the bare necessities. There wasn't a dining table in the living room, only two bar stools by the kitchen island. The living room had one sofa and a television that was fixed on the wall. Leroy wasn't sure what he'd expected the inside of the bungalow to look like, but certainly, it was not like this. The state of the lawn has given him the impression that the man would be messy, or a hoarder of some sort. Well, he guessed one couldn't move a wheelchair around properly if the place was cluttered to hell and back.

"They're in the basement," Zachary said, making Leroy look over at him. He raised a brow in confusion as he saw the man stand up and push his wheelchair to the side.

I thought you were disabled. The words lingered on Leroy's tongue, but he kept that to himself. It seemed the man noticed that he was staring intently at him because he fidgeted and held on to the edge of the kitchen island.

"I can walk. I just have a lot of pain with it," the man said, giving Leroy an awkward smile.

"Arthritis?"

"No, fibromyalgia." Well, that was one of his diagnoses, but Zachary almost felt ashamed to start listing off a series of illnesses that bounced off each other to put him in the amount of pain he was in because when he started, he often saw the doubt build up in people's eyes, and when that happened, he felt pressure to over share and over-explain. He didn't want to do that today—or any day for that matter.

"Ah, I see," Leroy said, feeling slightly uncomfortable that he'd stared so much to prompt the explanation.

"You can follow me, it's down the hallway," the man said, walking past Leroy. The younger man spotted a limp in the man's walk, and he felt bad for being suspicious again.

Regardless, he couldn't help feeling like he had maybe walked into a trap. If Zachary was a serial killer pulling at his empathy strings—Leroy wasn't saying he was, but if he was this would be the perfect setup. He could see it now, with true crime hosting his story: a man killed in a basement on the promise of cat cuddles. He smiled a little at his own invention and followed the man—Zachary? —he should probably ask before it got awkward or ask his name again.

When they got to the stairs Zachary walked down and Leroy followed, and at the end of the stairs Zachary turned on the light, and there they were, three cats lodged between different locations. One at the fat end under a mattress, one on top of a cupboard, and another hiding under a washing machine.

Zachary made a noise with his tongue and the cats scrambled to their feet, leaving their hiding stops to walk toward the two men. All three of the cats rubbed against Zachary's legs before staring up inquisitively at Leroy. Leroy bent down into a squat, reaching out his hand to brush the fur of a cute white one with a black patch on its back.

"You don't have to worry about them. They have all their shots and they're spayed," Zachary said, taking a stop on the stairway. "I've tried to do the same for the other cats that haven't come in yet, but I might be missing one or two."

"You give the strays shots?" Leroy asked. Intrigued, he looked over at Zachary, noticing the man's lean, and tall build. It was hard to fidget how tall he was from the chair, but he was pretty tall—well, to him. The man looked to be at least 5'10.

Zachary nodded as he hummed. "Yeah, it makes it safer for everyone since we can't adopt all of them, and honestly, not all cats want to be indoors. I usually have my sister take them. I can't drive so it's a hassle to hop in an Uber and take them myself."

Leroy wondered about the driver's license thing a bit too long. If the man could walk, he could probably drive, right? Or maybe it was too painful or not safe for some other reason? Or maybe he didn't just like it. For all that he knew, he could be like himself, who had had one accident and decided never to get behind a steering wheel again.

So instead, Leroy just muttered, "I see," before picking up a cat and sitting on a stair just below Zachary.

"I'm sorry, but what's your name again?" Leroy said, feeling he should get it out of the way. "Zachary?"

The man smiled, nodding his head. "Yeah, that's it! Yours is Leroy, right?"

Leroy nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm just super bad with names, so I thought I should make sure."

"It's okay."

"I took today off so I thought I should stop by," the younger man mumbled, and Zachary squinted into the distance before he remembered it was a Friday. The days bleed into each for the most part, and there wasn't use in keeping track since he didn't work or go to school. Every day was just another day of sitting in bed and staring into space.

"What do you do for work?" Zach felt like that was a good question to ask.

Leroy shrugged. "I'm a marketing assistant/coordinator, but I do pretty much a bit of everything since I work for a small company."

Zach nodded, smiling a little. He wished he could use his degree in English. He'd wanted to do copywriting, but the deadlines gave him so much anxiety and fear.

"It's not great pay but at least I get to call in as much as I like and can work from home two days out of the week," Leroy continued when Zach didn't say anything. He wasn't sure why he was babbling about his job, especially since he wasn't partially proud of it, but the basement was silent, and he was a nervous deck ball.

"I've always wanted to do something like that..." the older man trailed, and Leroy cocked his head to the side, wondering what he could probably mean by that. "I went to school for English. I wanted to do copywriting or SEO marketing someday, but it's proven difficult."

"Oh," Leroy said, looking away, taking the hint that he was probably referring to the pain he has with doing things. He wondered how the man had managed through university. Leroy had bouts of depression during his time in school and he had barely graduated.

"How old are you?"

The question took Leroy off guard, his brows cocked into a questioning stare as he looked at Zach, who was looking at him expectantly.

"I'm just curious. You look young," the man said, squinting at him. The full head of loose curls bobbed around his face as he leaned to the side, bringing a knee to his chest as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the stairway.

"I'm twenty-five," Leroy said after a moment of silence. "Yourself?"

"Thirty," Zach said, biting his bottom. "I turned thirty today, actually."

Leroy furrowed his brows. He couldn't have possibly heard that right. "It's your birthday?"

"Yes," the older man said, resting his head on the cream-colored wall.

Leroy wasn't sure what to say. Happy birthday, maybe? Sorry? Usually, people spend their birthday with friends or family at the very least, but it seemed Zach was just stuck at home feeding cats and moving around the stripped-down bungalow.

"I didn't even know until my sister called to tell me she was sorry she couldn't be here," Zach went on when Leroy didn't say anything. "It's very hard to keep track of time and dates when you don't use them to do much in your day-to-day life."

"I'm sorry," Leroy blurted, not sure what to make of what Zach told him.

The older man furrowed his brows. "For?"

Leroy shook his head. "I don't know, whatever you're feeling?" The man sighed. "Like, I can sense something's bothering you, but I'm not sure what. Regardless, I hope you're doing okay."

Zach wasn't sure how he felt about the pity thing, even though Leroy was correct. Sometimes he couldn't pinpoint what exactly in his life was off or bothering him, but that didn't change the fact that the emotions were there. They bubbled just under the surface, leaving him too overwhelmed and agitated to process them.

"I—I don't feel like I'm thirty..." Zach trailed, airing what he'd been saying to himself throughout the day. "It feels weird, I don't know, like I expected more from myself at this point," the man admitted, and even though it was a bit shameful, he felt that maybe Leroy could understand. The younger man nodded, humming in agreement.

"I know what you mean, sort of. It's not like I'm afraid of getting older or anything. It's more that I can't fully grasp being older if I'm behind on milestones, whatever those may be for me..." Leroy trailed. "I don't even feel I look twenty-five," he added, referencing his short and lean stature. It was one of his many insecurities, but somehow sharing that just felt comfortable in this moment.

"I couldn't tell you I know what a twenty-five-year-old should look like, but—" Zach paused, and Leroy could see the hesitation to finish the sentence in the man's hazel eyes. Maybe what he was going to say sounded weird or was better phrased in some other way. "You look good," Zach finally finished.

The short sentence made Leroy's face warm up. He wasn't sure how to take it, so he simply muttered a thank you, and looked back into the basement. The cats had retreated back to their hiding spots, except one that was playing with the loose thread of a pair of trousers that had been sitting on the washing machine just half an hour ago.

"Happy birthday," Leroy said, looking at Zach from the corner of his eyes.

"Thanks," the older man said.

"I should get going," Leroy mumbled after a while of the both of them sitting in silence.

"You know where the exit is, right?" Zach asked, watching the younger man stand up.

Leroy nodded, saying. "Thanks for having me. I'll definitely be stopping by again."

And with that, he strolled back upstairs and through the hallway, and living room before walking back out to the unkempt lawn and spotted the black, green-eyed cat that had started it all.