Chapter Text
If you asked Jisung to list the top ten greatest tragedies in his life, this moment would absolutely be top three. At least.
And no, he’s not being dramatic. This is a crisis.
“Well, we’re confirmed for Tokyo,” Chan says casually, like he didn’t just drop a bomb in the middle of their studio session. “Lisa needs us in the studio for two weeks to finish up her album.”
Changbin whoops from where he’s seated on the couch, completely ignoring the fact that Jisung has frozen right next to him. He leans into Chan, who has reclaimed his seat in front of his laptop, and smiles wide.
“We leave next week right? I need to brush up on my Japanese.” Changbin claps his hands and turns to Jisung. “You excited, dude?”
Jisung just stares at both of them, eyes wide in horror. Noticing his silence, Chan turns from where his eyes had been glued to his computer. His face twists into concern once he notices the apparent panic Jisung is feeling.
“Sungie? You okay?” Chan places his hand on Jisung’s arm and squeezes comfortingly. Jisung rapidly shakes his head before running his hands down his face in a very dramatic fashion.
“No! This is a disaster. An actual emergency. A life crisis.” He groans, melting into the couch. Chan’s hand slips from his arm as he flops over, oddly reminiscent of a fish out of water. Chan rolls back towards the desk slowly, eyes moving to his computer screen.
“Are you nervous about the flight?” Changbin laughs softly and pats his head. “We’re flying business class, so relax.” He stares as Jisung continues to wiggle around on the couch and wail dramatically.
“No, that’s not it,” Jisung sits up and grips Changbin’s arm. “My daughter’s going to be alone, hyung. For two whole weeks.”
Chan snorts out a laugh from the desk, his eyes still focused on his computer. He doesn’t even look up at Jisung when he replies.
“Pudding hates everyone but you. She’ll be fine.”
Jisung groans and buries his face into his hands. “I have to find someone to watch her. Someone kind, gentle. Preferably trained in feline psychology. A snack connoisseur.”
“You should probably mention the lullaby before bed,” Chan teases.
Jisung stands at his words while nodding, the sarcasm completely flying over his head. He paces the small space between the couch and the desk, his hands moving at impressive speeds as he speaks.
“She has very specific needs, okay? They can’t just wing it. She eats exactly three bites and then glares at you until you praise her!” Jisung stares wide eyed at a very amused Changbin on the couch. “And don’t even get me started on her nap schedule. She sleeps from 2 p.m. to 4:17 p.m. on the dot. If she’s woken up before that, she’s violent.”
Changbin lets out a short laugh as Chan stares bewildered at Jisung, who is now leaning against the wall, eyes closed.
“What if she gets lonely and forgets what I look like? What if she bonds with someone else, and imprints like a duck?!” Jisung pounds a fist against the wall softly and moves towards Chan, face increasingly serious. “Do you think cats can develop abandonment issues? Like, on a spiritual level? What if she starts journaling about the trauma of being left behind? Oh my god, I can’t have a cat with a therapist. I can’t afford both of us in therapy!”
Chan, who has now completely abandoned the track he had been working on, turns towards Jisung and grabs his hands. “Jisungie, Pudding is a cat. She can’t take therapy. You know that right? It’s important to me that you know that.”
Jisung only wails and drops to sit on the floor.
Changbin lets out a loud laugh, clutching his stomach as he bends in half over the couch’s armrest. “Is this going to be like the time you left her for one night and came back with a ten-slide apology PowerPoint?”
“She didn’t look at me for five days, hyung. This is going to destroy our relationship.”
Chan shakes his head and turns back to the desk. “Call Jeongin. He might be able to watch her while we’re gone. He knows all about her quirks.”
Jisung springs up from the floor and points at Chan. “Hyung. You’re a genius.”
Chan simply nods and turns back to his computer, a smile on his face.
Jisung snatches his phone from the desk and plops down onto the couch. He hurriedly opens the phone app and selects Jeongin’s number, pressing the call button immediately. Jeongin picks up after three rings (two too many in Jisung’s opinion).
“Hyung? What’s up?” Jeongin’s voice is soft, reminding Jisung that it’s actually nearing 11 p.m. He puts the call on speaker so the other two can hear.
“Hey, Innie. Sorry for bothering you so late,” Jisung says softly. “I have a favor to ask.”
He hears Jeongin shuffle and the soft noise of a show being paused. “It’s okay. What do you need?”
Jisung taps his fingers against his thigh and says as quickly as he can. “Do you think you could watch Pudding for two weeks?”
“No.”
Jisung’s jaw drops and he nearly shouts. “What?! Why!”
“Hyung, I get war flashbacks everytime you mention her. I still have a scar from the last time I took care of her. And that was for one night!” Jeongin huffs.
“It was a small scratch! You took her food, so really it’s your fault,” Jisung argues, hand flying up to run through his hair. “And it didn’t even scar, you liar.”
“Yes, it did. She left a scar on my soul, hyung.”
Jisung whines and puts on his sweetest voice. “Come on, Innie. Please! I’ll buy you so much food when I come back.”
“Hyung, she’s traumatized me,” Jeongin says, voice serious. “She watched me sleep. Just sat on my chest like— like a gargoyle and stared. I haven’t been able to sleep without seeing her eyes just staring at my soul.”
“That means she likes you!” Jisung squeaks. “That’s her love language!”
“Her love language is psychological warfare, hyung.”
Jisung groans. “Please, Innie. You’re my only hope. You love me, right? You said you love me after that music show last month—”
“That was adrenaline. I take it back,” Jeongin laughs. “Plus, I’m finishing up my album. I’m super busy, so I wouldn’t even be able to give her the mandatory 5 p.m. butt scratch.”
Jisung smushes his cheeks and whispers, “I’d do it for you, Yang Jeongin.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Jeongin deadpans. “You once sent me a Zoom link for moral support and muted yourself the whole time.”
Jisung groans and looks at Changbin for support. “Sungie, just drop her off at a shelter or something.”
“She’s not a bag of luggage, hyung!” Jisung nearly screams.
“I’m sorry, hyung, but I can’t. I need to put my mental health first,” Jeongin declares. “But I’ll help you find a good place to leave her.”
Jisung simply moans wantonly and sags into the couch.
“Alright, check this place out. I just sent you a link. They have five-star reviews, and I think they accept demon spawn.” Jeongin says, his voice accompanied by a ping from the message he sent.
Jisung opens up his text thread with Jeongin, sighing deeply. “She’s not a demon. She’s just… misunderstood.”
“That’s what people say about villains in documentaries, hyung,” Jeongin laughs. “I’m going to bed now. Good night!”
Jisung replies a soft goodbye as he clicks on the link.
‘Meow Manor.’
A cat hotel, café, and art space designed for your feline’s happiness and your peace of mind. Meow Manor is more than just a place to leave your cat, it’s a vacation for them as well.
Our multi-level space includes:
✰ A cozy café (run by humans, supervised by cats).
✰ A rotating gallery featuring our local artists (and your own cat’s paw print, of course).
✰ Luxurious cat suites with plush beds, soft lighting, climbing walls, and snacks galore.
Run by animal lovers and artists, Meow Manor is where your cat can lounge, you can sip, and everyone lives in harmony.
Call us to book your space! Your cat’s second home awaits.
Jisung snorts softly at the description. He scrolls through the many five star reviews and images of the space. He has to admit, it does look nice. The accommodations for the cats are indeed very luxurious and the food and art are fantastic.
The place seems trustworthy, they even have a cat in a beret in their promotion pictures. Jisung smiles as he sees the image of three very adorable cats lounging on a cat tower, all of them wearing sunglasses. If he’s going to leave Pudding somewhere, then he’s going to find the best place in Seoul. He finds the number for bookings and saves it to his phone. He’ll call tomorrow.
—
Jisung is lounging on his couch, one hand stroking Pudding, who is nestled in his lap like the queen that she is. She purrs like a truck, and Jisung exhales slowly.
“Forgive me, baby,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before dialing the number he saved.
It rings twice.
“Hello, thank you for calling Meow Manor. This is Lee Minho speaking.”
Jisung nearly drops his phone. The voice is low and smooth, and it wraps around him like velvet. He clutches his phone tightly and swallows. Stop being weird, Jisung, what the hell.
“Hi! Yes. Hello. Um. I saw your pictures. I mean, not in a weird way. On the website. Just— yes. Cat. I have one. I need, uh, help.” He scrunches his eyes shut and mentally slaps his forehead.
There’s a soft laugh on the other end. “You’re looking to book a stay?”
“Yes! Yes, for her, for my cat. Not me. Obviously. I’m not a cat.”
“...Right,” this Lee Minho hums, the sound so gentle Jisung thinks he could cry. “Well, we’d be happy to host her. Here at Meow Manor, your cat will be pampered like royalty. She’ll have her own suite, daily playtime, special meals, and one-on-one cuddle time. If she consents, of course.”
Jisung blinks. “I– uh. That’s so respectful.”
“We try our best,” Minho replies, voice warm.
“Yeah. Cuddle consent? That’s, like, wow. Okay. That’s good. Amazing. Revolutionary.” Pudding lets out a happy chirp and headbutts Jisung’s stomach. “She approves.”
“Awesome,” Minho replies, “I’ll need a few more details to complete the booking. Name, age, temperament, any medical notes. Oh, and, how long will she be staying?”
“Oh yeah, she’ll be staying for two weeks starting Monday,” Jisung hums. “Her name is Pudding. She’s six. She’s… complicated. But, like, in a sexy villain way.”
“...Noted.”
—
On Thursday, Jisung is standing outside Meow Manor like it’s kindergarten and he’s about to drop off his daughter for the first time. He clutches the pastel pink cat carrier to his chest, and the way his bottom lip wobbles would be amusing if it wasn’t for the genuine threat of tears.
Jeongin, who tagged along for emotional support, sighs and tugs the carrier out of his arms. “I feel like I’m dropping your child off at summer camp.”
“She’s so small,” Jisung whispers, wiping under one eye to remove the singular tear that had escaped. “So soft. She’s never known hardship.”
Jeongin gives him a look. “You literally rescued her from the street, hyung.”
“Exactly! She’s already suffered enough,” Jisung turns to look at him. “What if she thinks I abandoned her?”
Jeongin huffs out a laugh. “She’ll be fine, hyung. She’ll probably throw a party.”
“You know what? I hope she does. I hope she has the best two weeks of her life. Without me. Her loving father.”
Before Jeongin can respond, the café door swings open with a soft ding. The man who steps out is wearing a dark green apron with a stitched cat on the chest, black jeans, and rolled up sleeves. His hair is messy like he’s been running his hand through it all morning, and when he smiles, his eyes actually twinkle.
Jisung nearly short circuits.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Minho, we spoke on the phone. Jisung?”
Jeongin elbows him. Jisung is still standing there like he’s forgotten how words work, mouth slightly open, and staring directly at Minho like he’s been hit by a brick and Cupid all at once.
“This is Pudding,” Jeongin says quickly, holding up the carrier like it contains royal cargo. “She’s… temperamental.”
The comment snaps Jisung out of it. “Only around people she doesn’t like,” he adds. “So, basically everyone except me.”
“Got it,” Minho says with a soft smile and takes the carrier gently. He leads them inside. Jisung follows like he’s been summoned by a king. Or something dramatic like that.
Jisung barely notices the warm lighting or the café’s cozy vibe. He’s too busy staring at the carrier like he’s about to say goodbye to a piece of his soul. He doesn’t even register the sharp inhale Jeongin takes as they pass the café section. Minho leads them to the far left side where Jisung can spot cat toys, towers, and beds all placed in what can only be described as cat paradise.
Minho sets the carrier down on a cushioned table and carefully unlatches the door.
“Hey, Pudding,” he says softly, voice gentle enough to melt a stick of butter. Or a Han Jisung. Or both. “I love your name. It’s my favorite dessert.”
To everyone’s shock, Pudding steps out, stretches her little legs, and pads right over to Minho. She sniffs his hand once, sits, then immediately flops onto her side, belly up and purring.
Jisung makes a weird noise, like a choked gasp.
Jeongin freezes. “What the—”
Minho looks up, eyes wide. “Is this… normal?”
“No!” Jeongin says, scandalized. “She bit my ankle last week because I was too close to her food bowl!”
Jisung clutches his chest. “She’s never shown her belly to anyone but me.”
Minho gently scratches behind her ears. She chirps and purrs louder.
“Traitor,” Jeongin mutters.
They hear a small snicker and turn to the right, where a tall guy with a full mug of tea is standing. Jeongin makes a strangled sound and turns away, ears going red.
“Hey, Seungmin,” Minho says casually, eyes locking onto Jeongin’s reddening face and smirking evilly.
Seungmin gives a small wave and looks at Jisung. “This your cat?”
Jisung nods, side-eyeing Jeongin who is still looking at a seemingly very interesting wall. “Yeah, this is Pudding. She just flopped for him. Which she never does. I’m questioning everything.”
Seungmin only nods like this is a common occurrence. “Well, Minho’s basically a cat himself. They can sense their own.”
Jeongin, against his better judgement, finally turns to look at Seungmin and smiles softly at him.
Seungmin immediately flushes crimson and nearly drops his mug. “I– I’m going to get some more tea,” he mutters before turning tail and fleeing toward the café.
Minho huffs a small laugh and brushes imaginary dust from his hands. “Well, looks like she's comfortable already.”
Jisung just nods, too busy trying to figure out if his heart has actually stopped or if he’s just really into competent men with cat taming hands.
Minho scoops Pudding up and places her gently on a nearby cat tree. She curls into a perfect loaf, still purring. He leads them to the register near the café area. Jeongin’s eyes are trained where Seungmin has gone to sit at a café table.
“Alright,” Minho says, tapping on the screen. “Let me just check Pudding into the system, and then I’ll charge you for the stay.”
Jisung nods and finally takes a moment to look around the place properly. The entrance is framed by a lovely gallery wall full of beautiful paintings. A handsome man, wearing the same green apron as Minho, is at an easel in the corner painting a beautiful bouquet of flowers. The café itself is wide and open, the pastel pink and green theme carried throughout. Seungmin is seated again, chatting with a blonde guy in the green apron, who’s holding a plate of cake and looks like he’s about to giggle. He spots some stairs tucked away in the far corner that he assumes go to the second floor. He hums in approval. Pudding will enjoy it here.
Jisung snaps to attention when he hears his name.
“So the total for the two week stay is on the screen. You can tap your card right there,” Minho says, pointing.
Jisung quickly does so and looks at Minho while putting his wallet away. “So, I just… leave her here? Will you call me if anything happens?”
Minho tilts his head. “Would you like me to send you updates while you’re away?”
“Yeah,” Jisung says, a beat too fast. “Like. Pictures. Or videos. A live stream works too. I can give you her best angles.”
Minho laughs, and it’s low, and warm, and makes Jisung want to melt into a little puddle of goo.
“I’ll send you updates. I have your number from when you called to book,” Minho promises, smiling.
Jisung blinks, heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with leaving Pudding behind.
This is fine.
He is totally fine.
Jeongin tugs on his sleeve. “Let’s go, hyung.”
Jisung nods, dazed, and lets himself be led out the door. His eyes are trained to where Minho is now petting a happy Pudding, his face soft and sweet. “Yeah, okay.”