Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jaehee doesn't know when things began spiraling, but here’s how the story goes;

He's been pulling relentless all-nighters, buried under the weight of his finals that are now only a week away. As a first-year engineering student, he had assumed things would still be manageable—challenging, maybe, but not impossible. That illusion shattered the moment he opened a past-year paper and found himself stuck on question two for longer than he’d ever admit aloud. 

And it certainly doesn’t help that he now has a cat hybrid living under his roof. A hybrid who demands attention at every given moment. 

Jaehee should have taken Sion’s warning more seriously. Not that he regrets Yushi’s presence because it’s far from it actually, but perhaps he should have thought things through with a little more care instead of rushing headlong into whatever this is between them.

And now, he’s surrounded by scattered papers and half-empty coffee cups, while a very dejected Yushi lies sprawled on the floor beside him, his face turned away. His tail curls limply, his ears droop low as the perfect picture of wordless disappointment.

Earlier, Yushi had tried to help. He’d padded over with snacks clutched in his hands, then attempted to curl himself onto Jaehee’s lap, clearly intending to distract him from his stress. On any other day, Jaehee would have welcomed the weight of him, delighted to have an armful of warmth and soft ears brushing against his chin. But not today. Today, the pressure of looming deadlines leaves him brittle, and instead of indulging Yushi’s affection, he… ignores it.

As in avoiding all of Yushi’s kittenish kisses. 

At first, he brushes it off with a tilt of his head, but the longer Jaehee avoids him, the more his hurt begins to show. Finally, in a quiet, wounded voice, Yushi asks, “I don’t get it. Why are you like this?”

And here lies the problem. Yushi has no real understanding of how university life works. To him, Jaehee’s endless scribbles of numbers and equations might as well be meaningless scratches on paper. Jaehee has explained before, yes—an entire hour spent describing deadlines, grading systems, and the merciless nature of finals. Yushi had only listened with wide, curious eyes before nodding slowly and murmuring “…okay,” as though he understood. The very next week, he’d asked the same questions all over again.

So now Jaehee sits trapped between two impossible tasks; solving a question he can’t untangle and figuring out how to mend the hurt he’s caused the hybrid beside him. 

He decides to stall a bit, scribbling through another five questions. His pen scratches against the paper, but none of the answers make sense anymore and all he sees is the shape of Yushi’s ears drooping by the corner of his eye. Finally, with a heavy exhale, he pushes the pen aside and starts gathering his papers into a neat stack. He doesn’t say anything while he does it, just silently cleaning up, shoving books into piles.

When everything is clear, he turns toward where Yushi still lies curled up, tail flicking slow and sad. Jaehee drops onto the floor with a thud, laying on his side.

“Hyung.” 

No answer. 

“Yushi hyung.” His voice is gentler this time, a smile tugging his lips even though he feels far too tired to hold it.

Finally, Yushi shifts just enough to look at him, though his face is still sulky. “What?”

Jaehee scoots closer until their shoulders brush. “Don’t be mad. I wasn’t ignoring you because I wanted to. I just… really need to focus right now.”

“You always say that.” Yushi’s voice is almost childlike. His ears twitch, but they don’t lift.

“I know.” Jaehee lifts a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair away from Yushi’s forehead. “And I’ll probably keep saying it until finals are over. But hyung, I don’t want you to think I don’t want you around. Because I do. More than anything. I just… need you to wait for me, okay?”

The hybrid hesitates, then lets Jaehee pull him closer. His expression softens when Jaehee peppers his temple with silly little pecks until Yushi cracks a reluctant smile.

“Better?” Jaehee asks, grinning when Yushi gives the smallest nod.

“Maybe,” Yushi mutters, though the way he melts into Jaehee’s side betrays him.

Jaehee holds him tighter, lips brushing over Yushi’s cheek again and again until the sulk fully fades into quiet laughter. 

This is only the beginning, he thinks. Their relationship is new, fragile, glowing with warmth. But reality has only just begun, and Jaehee isn’t sure how long he can shield Yushi from it.

🐈

The grocery store is unusually quiet, only a scattering of customers lingering by the aisles. Perhaps it’s because it’s a Wednesday evening—seven o’clock hardly strikes anyone as the right time to do a full grocery run.

Except for Yushi, apparently. 

By the time Jaehee trudges back from the library, his brain worn thin from hours of revision, Yushi has already bound to the door insisting they go out. Something about “fresh air” and “we’re out of milk” and “I cannot survive a morning without my milk, Jaehee.” (He’d also say it’s Jaehee’s fault for making him drink it every morning until it became a habit he couldn’t break.)

Too tired to argue and far too unwilling to face Yushi’s inevitable pout, Jaehee lets himself be dragged along. What he doesn’t expect is for Yushi to seize a trolley the moment they enter the store, eyes gleaming with determination as if grocery shopping were a fun thing to do. Jaehee still has his glasses perched on his nose, hair a little mussed from studying and definitely not prepared for this level of energy.

And as a dutiful boyfriend—or perhaps simply a weary one—he offers to push the trolley while Yushi marches ahead, scanning the aisles with his big curious eyes. It’s an easy excuse not to engage his overworked brain, letting Yushi take the reins while he trails behind.

“How many should I get?” Yushi asks, lifting a tied bunch of celery.

Jaehee squints at it. The stalks are limp at the edges, hardly the picture of freshness. He opens his mouth to point it out but falters when Yushi tilts his head, and looks at him wide-eyed and expectant, tail flicking with faint excitement. The criticism dies on his tongue.

“Two’s enough,” Jaehee says instead.

The hybrid hums happily, slipping the bundle into a thin plastic bag before dropping it into the trolley with a little flourish. 

They continue their slow trek down the aisle, Yushi occasionally holding up a vegetable for approval with Jaehee answering with minimal words just to keep the peace. 

Peace until Jaehee’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Who’s that?” Yushi asks, tilting his head.

“Who else?” Jaehee sighs. “My mom, of course.”

“Go on, take it. I’ll handle the cart.” Yushi giggles before flashing a sweet smile that softens the edges of his face, and Jaehee has the ridiculous urge to kiss him right there. So he does, a quick press of lips that leaves Yushi grinning.

With a quiet exhale, Jaehee steps away, weaving past a shelf stacked with potato chips and stopping somewhere between the snack and chocolate aisle before answering. “Hello, Mom.”

“It’s no time for formality, Jaehee. Have you been studying properly?” his mother’s voice cuts in.

Jaehee closes his eyes briefly, stretching his neck to ease the stiffness from hours of note-taking. “Yeah.”

“Good. And what about your piano and soccer practices?”

“I’ve paused all of them.” 

“Exactly as I thought.”

“Mom,” he groans under his breath, “I’m not fifteen anymore. I know how this works.”

“Well, let me remind you again. You’re no longer a regular high schooler in Daegu, Jaehee-ya—you’re at Seoul National University now. It’s a different world.”

Her words land heavy, as though he hadn’t already felt the difference pressing down on him every day. He forces a nonchalant hum, pretending not to mind, though inside he’s bracing against the weight.

“…It’s only my first year,” he murmurs.

“All the more reason to set the tone. The way you perform now will shape the rest of your semesters. Do well, darling.”

“Yes, I kno—“

“You should ask your hyungs for advice if you’re struggling.” 

His mother doesn’t say it as something harmful but Jaehee’s head is pounding too hard he interprets it as a silent comparison instead. He swallows down the sharp retort itching at his tongue. “I’ll figure it out, Mom.”

“You should. I don’t want to see you fall behind.” 

“Right,” his voice drops. 

And then,

“Jaehee, where are you? I can’t find the instant noodles we always buy—“

Yushi is standing at the end of the aisle, holding two different noodle packs in hand, voice bright and utterly unaware. He only realizes too late when Jaehee’s frozen with the phone pressed to his ear. The hybrid’s eyes widen, hand flying up to cover his mouth.

But it’s too late.

“…Who was that, son?” 

“It—it’s nobody! Haha, what were you saying?” Jaehee blurts, voice pitched too high as he scrambles, eyes darting anywhere but Yushi’s. He doesn’t notice the way the hybrid stiffens a few feet away, noodle packs forgotten in his hands.

“What do you mean nobody? I heard someone just now. Who was it? And why did he sound like you two live together?”

“It’s no one, Mom—“

“So ‘no one’ knows your name?” 

Jaehee squeezes his eyes shut, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He wants to throw his phone against the shelves. “It’s… someone I know. That’s it.”

His mother narrows her voice. “Is it? Don’t lie to me, Jaehee. I can hear the tremble in your voice.”

The pressure sitting on his chest makes it hard to breathe. “I swear. It’s nothing big.”

“If you say so. Just don’t waste time hanging out with friends right now. This is not the stage for distractions. I’ll call you again in a few days.”

“…Alright.”

The line clicks dead. Jaehee lowers the phone, head pounding like it’s been split open. He shoves it into his pocket and turns, only to meet Yushi’s unreadable gaze that pins him to the spot.

He brushes it off as nothing. “Let’s go find the instant noodles, hyung.”

“…You still don’t want to tell your parents about me?”

The words claw at Jaehee’s gut. He looks away once again. “It’s complicated. I just… I need some time.” He reaches out, fingers curling around Yushi’s hand, trying to tug him along and switch the topic. 

But Yushi doesn’t budge. His tail flicks, his ears tilted back, frown pulling at his features like an angry cat. “…What’s complicated? You told me your parents are fine with hybrids. So why?”

Jaehee’s temples throb harder with each beat of his heart. “They are. It’s me—I need to find the right time—” 

“Or they just hate me?” Yushi cuts him off.

Jaehee’s head snaps toward him, tone sharper than he intends. “Why would they hate you? They’ve never even met you.”

“Then why did it sound like I’m… a problem to your life?” Yushi’s voice cracks despite the stubborn set of his mouth. His ears droop low. “The way you answered your mom, it felt like… I’m a nuisance.”

Jaehee’s chest tightens at Yushi’s words. “You’re not a nuisance, hyung,” he insists.

“Then why can’t you just say it?” Yushi snaps, tail lashing behind him. “Why can’t you tell your parents about me if I’m not a problem?”

“I told you it’s about me. And it’s not that easy—“

“It is! You think I don’t notice how you avoid it? How you keep pretending I’m just—just some stray you picked up?” Yushi’s voice grows louder, drawing the attention of a passing shopper. His ears are flat against his hair, trembling. “Am I embarrassing to you, Jaehee?”

The younger’s throat tightens as he flinches. “Don’t say that—“

“Then tell me the truth!” Yushi all but shouts, voice echoing down the aisle. “Do you wish I wasn’t here at all?”

Jaehee lets out a deep sigh as he notices people are staring. Yushi’s shoulders are tense too as his face flushed red from frustration, fist clenched like a cornered animal. 

So he grabs Yushi by the wrist, and pulls him toward the exit. “Come on.”

“Jaehee—!”

“Not here, hyung.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Yushi stumbles but follows, still trembling and visibly upset. The groceries are left behind as the automatic doors slide shut behind them.

The car ride home is suffocating. Silence wraps around them, broken only by the low hum of the engine and Yushi’s uneven breathing. Jaehee keeps his eyes on the road with jaw tight.

Beside him, Yushi curls into the passenger seat, arms crossed, tail wound tightly around his legs. His ears stay drooped low, and though he doesn’t say a word, his silence is louder than any outburst.

This topic has always been a little… sensitive Jaehee would say. Ever since the incident when he’d hidden Yushi in the guest room during his parents’ surprise visit, they’ve tread carefully around it. Jaehee does share bits about his family now and then—mostly because Yushi’s curiosity makes it hard not to, but they never really bring up the topic, even though Jaehee knows well how it’s eating both of them alive. 

Today is the last straw, it seems. 

By the time they step inside the house, Yushi immediately slips out of Jaehee’s grasp and heads straight for his spot on the couch. He drops down with his back turned, arms folded tight, tail twitching like it’s ready to snap.

Jaehee locks the door behind them and presses his palm against his forehead, trying to breathe through the pounding ache there. He counts to five, to ten, but when he turns around, Yushi is still in the exact same stubborn position.

“Hyung—“

Yushi doesn’t spare him a glance. “You don’t have to say anything. I already know what you’re thinking.”

Jaehee swallows back his own irritation, but his patience is stretched paper-thin. He steps closer. “Listen, our relationship is still new, alright? I don’t want to make it shaky by rushing into things before we’re ready. What if we—”

“What if we what?” Yushi whirls around, ears flat, eyes flashing with hurt. “If we don’t work out? Is that it? You want to abandon me the moment it gets too hard? Because that’s what it sounds like, Jaehee. That you’re keeping me hidden so it’ll be easier to get rid of me later.”

Jaehee’s frown deepens. “I would never do that to you, hyung. You know that.”

“Do I?” Yushi fires back immediately, voice rising again. “Because from the way you’ve been acting these days, it doesn’t seem like it. You ignore me, push me away, and look at me like you regret taking me home. I’m just waiting for the day you finally say it out loud.”

The pressure in Jaehee’s head spikes until it feels like he’s going to burst. And before he can stop himself, the words tumble out like a dam breaking. “Well maybe it’s because my finals are in a week and I haven’t slept properly in days!” he snaps, voice trembling with all the frustration he’s kept in. “Maybe it’s because my parents won’t stop calling me like I’m still a kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing! Maybe it’s because I have to work twice as hard just to prove I belong here, and on top of that, I need to make sure I can take care of you too!”

The last words echo in the room, louder than he intended. His chest heaves, and his throat feels tight. Yushi blinks at him, ears twitching uncertainly, tail stilling against the cushions. His lips part, but for once, no words come out.

The apartment falls silent—so silent that the guilt comes crashing down on Jaehee in an instant. Especially when Yushi’s shoulders go rigid like he’s ready to spring away at the slightest move. 

And then, just when he thinks the quiet might finally settle them both, Yushi speaks. 

“…so when are you going to hit me?”

Jaehee’s head jerks up so fast his neck protests. “What?” His voice startled and horrified at once.

“I said when are you going to hit me?” Yushi repeats, quieter this time, still not looking at him. His entire frame curls inward, arms crossing protectively over his chest as if he’s bracing for impact.

It’s only then that Jaehee sees it. The way Yushi’s posture isn’t just stubborn but defensive. The way he shields himself like someone waiting for pain that always follows anger.

“Hyung…” his voice falters. “Why—why would I do that?”

“Because you yelled at me.” Yushi’s chest rises and falls quickly, his breathing uneven. His ears twitch nervously, eyes fixed on the floor. “You’re angry. At me. Just like my previous masters.”

Jaehee’s world stops. His heart seems to forget how to beat, and his lungs forget how to draw in air. Every ounce of his frustration, every sharp word he let loose, twists into something jagged and cruel inside him.

How could he forget? How could he ever forget Yushi’s past, the scars that don’t show but live under his skin?

Jaehee crosses the space in a heartbeat and pulls Yushi into his arms. His voice cracks as he whispers against Yushi’s ear. “I’m sorry, hyung. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.”

The hybrid goes rigid in his embrace at first, muscles taut like a cornered stray, his tail bristling in invisible memory. Jaehee curses himself silently for that until, little by little, the tension bleeds out of Yushi’s frame. The older’s hands tremble before they clutch at Jaehee’s shirt, claws of need sinking in as he presses his face against the crook of his neck, hiding like a frightened cat burrowing into a shadow.

Jaehee dares to pull back only slightly, searching for any trace of tears, but Yushi keeps his face buried, refusing to be seen. His muffled voice vibrates against Jaehee’s collarbone. “…I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have overreacted. I just… I get anxious when you act differently.”

“Hyung, no… don’t say that. I’m sorry.” Jaehee rushes, his words tumbling over themselves.

But Yushi is stubborn, his ears twitching in protest. “No. Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing.”

Jaehee shakes his head, kissing the crown of Yushi’s hair, lingering there as if to anchor him. “I shouldn’t expect you to be so… well-adjusted, not when everything in this world is still so new to you. It must be exhausting, having to learn and adapt to something every single day. I forget how hard it is for you.” His lips brush over the soft fur of Yushi’s ears, which flick at the touch, twitching restlessly like they can’t decide between retreat or leaning in. 

The heavy air breaks when Yushi suddenly purrs, vibrating through his chest. He clings tighter, his tail wrapping loosely around Jaehee’s waist, a plea disguised as instinct.“I just… miss you a lot,” Yushi murmurs, his voice vibrating with that rumbling purr.

“I miss you too. Just one more week, hyung, and then I’ll be all yours. I promise.” 

Yushi pulls back just far enough to pout at him, lower lip jutting stubbornly, ears tilted in clear disapproval. But when Jaehee strokes his back, fingers dragging gently as if smoothing ruffled fur, Yushi eventually relents, giving a tiny nod. 

Relief surges through Jaehee, and without another thought, he cups Yushi’s cheeks and kisses him on the lips, silently tells him he’s never going anywhere. 

🐈

The bed is cold. 

That’s the first thing Jaehee notices when he blinks awake, reaching instinctively to his left only to find empty sheets. The alarm reads 6:03 a.m.—he set it early last night to get some last-minute revision done before his exam at eight, but the absence of his boyfriend makes him feel more awake than ever. 

And then he hears a clinking and clatter sound. 

Jaehee sits up, frowning, until the sound repeats, muffled through the walls. The kitchen.

When he pads over and pushes the door open, the sight waiting for him nearly makes his knees buckle in the morning.

Yushi stands by the counter, haloed by the warm glow of the kitchen light. He’s swallowed up in one of Jaehee’s shirts, the hem brushing the tops of his thighs, paired with shorts barely visible beneath. A big apron hangs crookedly over his small frame. His hair is a mess—tufts sticking out in every direction, like he’d just tumbled out of bed. He hums quietly under his breath, ears twitching with focus as he stirs a pan.

Jaehee smiles to himself. He tiptoes forward and slides his arms around Yushi’s waist, pulling him into a sudden backhug.

“Ack—Jaehee! Not funny! It’s hot!” Yushi yelps, ears jerking back in alarm, tail flicking like an agitated whip.

The younger only laughs, shamelessly burying his face in the crook of Yushi’s neck, rubbing there in an imitation of Yushi’s own habit,  his so-called “scenting.” “Why are you up so early? The sun isn’t even out yet.”

Yushi huffs, swatting at the pan with a little too much vigor. “I want to pack you some food so you don’t have to eat in the cafeteria. And also to stop you from skipping meals.” His tail settles after a moment, curling absently around Jaehee’s wrist as if contradicting his scolding tone.

Jaehee’s heart aches in the best way. He thinks back to the Yushi from five months ago—the one who barely spoke, who went whole weeks in a quiet voice. Now, his boyfriend fills every quiet moment with his cotton-candy voice, soft and endlessly endearing. And Jaehee drinks up every word like it’s his favorite song.

“Mhm,” he hums, leaning into the warmth of the smaller man despite their height difference. His hyung is so tiny it’s almost unfair.

“Go get ready. Study a little.” Yushi shoos him off with a flap of his hand.

“Aye, aye, chip,” Jaehee grins, pulling away only long enough to press a quick kiss to Yushi’s cheek.

“Ew!” Yushi yells, ears flattening in mock disgust, though the tips glow pink.

The rest of the morning drifts by in a kind of hushed domestic bliss. Jaehee sits cross-legged at the table, textbooks spread open, eyes scanning lines of notes with a highlighter in hand. Beside him, Yushi curls up in the chair like a cat in its favorite sunny spot, nursing a mug of warm milk. Every so often he lets out a little hum or flicks his ears toward the pages, as though he’s studying along, even if his gaze stays fixed on the steam swirling from his drink.

When the clock creeps toward seven-fifteen, Jaehee sighs and shuts his books, gathering his pens into a neat stack. The weight of exam day sits heavy in his chest—until Yushi suddenly presses himself close, arms wrapping tight around Jaehee’s middle.

“Do your best, Jaehee. Go get that human education,” Yushi says, voice earnest but ears tilted in a mischievous angle.

Jaehee can’t help but laugh. “Hybrids also get education, hyung.”

Yushi only shrugs, tail flicking lazily behind him. “Good luck.” His hands rise to cup Jaehee’s face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones with surprising gentleness. “I’ll wait for you here.” He leans up to press a quick kiss to Jaehee’s lips.

The younger preens, heart blooming. “I love you.”

It’s not the first time Jaehee has said it, but the words still make Yushi flustered as his ears twitch wildly, and he sputters with pink cheeks. “C-come back safely!”

Hours later, Jaehee finds himself sitting under the shade of a tree outside the exam hall, his first paper finally behind him. His hands ache from writing, but his heart feels lighter as he digs into his bag for the lunchbox Yushi had insisted on preparing.

The sight inside nearly makes him snort aloud.

It’s kimchi fried rice, but instead of being packed neatly, Yushi has rolled it into small round balls as each one is decorated with tiny seaweed eyes, noses, and mouths, some smiling, some frowning, some with crooked expressions like a cat. Like Yushi. On the side, potato balls stare up at him with equally silly little faces, their toothpick arms sticking out like they’re about to march into battle.

Jaehee bites back a laugh, the corners of his mouth curving upward. He can almost picture Yushi at the counter, ears twitching in concentration, tail swishing behind him as he carefully arranges each expression.

He’s so, so lucky.

🐈

It’s the last day of Jaehee’s finals, and of course it has to be the hardest paper out of them all. Yushi remembers the way Jaehee spent the entire night hunched over his desk, mechanical pencil scratching furiously until the room fell silent except for the restless flip of pages. He remembers, too, how the bed stayed cold, how he’d curled himself in a ball beneath the blankets with Jaehee’s pillow clutched to his chest, pouting until sleep finally dragged him under.

When he woke in the morning, bleary-eyed and alone, his ears had drooped lower than they should. But the moment he padded out to the living room and saw Jaehee slumped over his books, head pillowed on his folded arms, dark half-moons bruised beneath his eyes, Yushi’s sulk melted away. He’d crept over quietly, draped himself around Jaehee’s shoulders, and hugged him so tightly that Jaehee stirred with a weak chuckle. Yushi told himself the squeeze was enough to give him strength for the day. He hoped it was.

Now, it’s past 2 p.m., and the house feels too quiet. The kind of quiet that presses against Yushi’s ears until they twitch at the faintest sound—wind brushing against the garden fence, a dog barking two houses down, the distant roll of a delivery truck. Every noise makes his tail flick in restless arcs, but none of them are the sound he wants most: Jaehee’s car engine.

Usually, by now, his phone would buzz with a short message. A “done, it went okay” or a blurry selfie of Jaehee holding up his exam paper with a tired grin. But today, nothing. Not even a single vibration.

Yushi curls on the couch, dragging Jaehee’s blanket over himself, the faint scent of his mate-in-all-but-name pressed into his nose. It should comfort him, but instead, it only makes the emptiness louder. He paws at his phone again, as if staring at the blank screen will summon a message. Still nothing.

The truth is, Yushi doesn’t really understand how this whole studying thing works. He knows Jaehee reads until his eyes glaze over and his hand cramps, but to Yushi it just looks like… endless scribbles. Numbers and words that never seem to end. He once asked Jaehee how Riku managed to become a kindergarten assistant, when Yushi himself could barely manage small talk with a stranger. There was that one time Jaehee had asked him to deliver cookies to the old lady across the street and Yushi had nearly cried right there at the doorway, heart thundering as though the task were impossible.

Yushi and Riku are both cat hybrids. So what makes them so different…?

Riku probably had something Yushi never did: a childhood where humans bothered to teach him things. Basic education, friends, lessons that explained why the world worked the way it did. Yushi had none of that. His “schooling” had been learning when to bow his head, when to speak, and when to stay invisible.

So all he can do now is wait with his dumb ears perked at every creak of the front gate, tail twitching against the couch cushions, heart thumping with impatience.

Not long after, there’s a distant growl of an engine that makes Yushi’s ears perk, his whole body tense with anticipation. Before the car even settles into the driveway, he’s already rushing to the door, bare feet padding quickly against the floor. The sight of Jaehee stepping out with his hair tousled and shoulders weighed by exhaustion, makes Yushi’s chest ache as he bolts forward and launches himself straight into Jaehee’s arms.

“Woah—there, there, hyung,” Jaehee chuckles, stumbling a little before catching Yushi’s thighs with ease.

Yushi cups his face, wide eyes searching. “How was it?”

Up close, the human looks completely drained, and guilt squeezes Yushi’s chest tight. How could he have been so selfish? Giving Jaehee a hard time when he’s been studying until dawn for the hardest exam yet?

Jaehee only shrugs, lips quirking faintly.

Yushi frowns, fingers tightening around his jaw. “Why are you not saying anything, Jaehee? Was it that difficult? Did it make you lose words?”

Instead of answering, Jaehee suddenly bursts into laughter, his strong arms lifting Yushi higher before spinning him around.

“Jaehee!” Yushi whines, clutching onto him tightly as the world blurs.

“You’re so cute, hyungggg,” Jaehee teases, finally stopping just long enough to bop Yushi’s nose. His grin is bright, his eyes dancing with triumph. “I did so well I feel like I could buy you the moon right now.”

Yushi blinks, then immediately bounces in his hold once he fully realizes what Jaehee means, excitement bursting through. “Jaehee!!”

“I’m free now, hyung. All yours.” Jaehee’s voice drops playfully, a flirt curling at the edges.

Heat rushes to Yushi’s face, and he hides it the only way he knows how—by rubbing his cheek against Jaehee’s, nuzzling close to scent him. It frustrates him sometimes that Jaehee can’t smell it, can’t know how deeply Yushi marks him as his. But even so, Jaehee always smells like cinnamon and warm baths, something that makes Yushi feel comforting, safe, and at home.

Just so, so Jaehee.

“I’m proud of you, Jaehee,” Yushi murmurs with sincerity.

“Mhmm. You should be.” Jaehee grins, raising a brow. “Wanna go celebrate, hyung?”

Yushi blinks at him in surprise. “Oh? Isn’t that my job?”

“Nah.” Mischief glimmers in Jaehee’s eyes as he leans in to peck Yushi’s cheek. “No need. I already have a plan for us. Go pack your stuff.”

“…Pack my stuff? We’re going somewhere?”

The younger shrugs again with playful arrogance, before glancing at his watch. “You only have… thirty minutes. Or you’ll be left alone at home.”

“Right now?! Not fair!” Yushi yelps, scrambling off him and dashing back inside, while Jaehee’s warm chuckles trail after him.

Yushi has never been on such a long car ride. The constant hum of the engine, the blur of trees whipping past, and the steady rhythm of Jaehee’s breathing all blend into something soothing and restless. What gnaws at him most isn’t the distance, though. It’s Jaehee himself. He sits behind the wheel with his glasses perched on his nose, profile lit by the late afternoon glow. Every now and then, Yushi catches the faint lines of exhaustion tugging at his face, and guilt coils in his chest like his restless tail.

“You should teach me how to drive sometime,” Yushi blurts, curling in the passenger seat, knees drawn slightly up like he’s trying to perch. His gaze stays locked on Jaehee’s hands on the wheel.

Jaehee glances at him. “You want to drive, hyung?”

Yushi’s lips pull into a pout, ears twitching in irritation even though Jaehee can’t see them. “It’s been three hours on the road. And you had your last paper today. And didn’t sleep last night. And now you’re driving the both of us.” He huffs. “I feel… helpless.”

The younger laughs. “But I’m fine! Even if you asked me to get a mosquito’s heart, I’d do it for you. And you’re not helpless, hyung. You cook for us almost every day.”

Yushi’s claws flex against the seatbelt, his tail twitching invisibly behind him, because how dare Jaehee look that attractive while saying something so ridiculous. His instincts scream at him to pounce, to curl into his lap and press his face into Jaehee’s neck.

“I’m being serious, Jaehee!” Yushi hisses, pout deepening.

Instead of answering, Jaehee just laughs harder, one hand briefly leaving the wheel to ruffle Yushi’s messy hair. “We’re almost there, hyung. Just a little bit more.”

How dare he.

The car eventually slows, turning onto a quiet road framed by tall trees and stone walls. Yushi presses his face closer to the window, ears twitching beneath his hair as he takes in the unfamiliar surroundings. It doesn’t look like the city at all. 

Is this perhaps…?

“Where are we?” he asks, edged with suspicion, tail practically lashing in his chest.

Jaehee only hums, lips curved in that infuriating secretive smile. “You’ll see, hyung.”

When the car pulls into a wide driveway, Yushi’s eyes widen. The house in front of them isn’t just a house—it’s home. As in those houses in cartoons he sneakily watched when his master wasn’t home back when he was a kid. A proper, two-story family home with a garden, flowerbeds neatly kept, and the faint sound of wind chimes dancing in the air. 

He stiffens immediately as he may have an idea where they’re at. He turns to Jaehee. “Jaehee. Whose territory is this?”

Jaehee doesn’t even flinch at the use of the word anymore. He just says, “my territory,” and cuts the engine. He turns to Yushi, grin softening into something warmer. “Well—technically my parents’. But mine too.”

Yushi’s ears shoot straight up, his whole body puffing with alarm like a cat caught off guard. “Y-your parents?! W-We’re in Daegu?!” He clutches at Jaehee’s sleeve like claws digging into fabric. “You tricked me!”

He has no choice but to hit Jaehee’s cheek with his tail. A habit he has picked up ever since he got to know Jaehee.

Especially for moments like this. 

Jaehee only laughs, leaning over to cup Yushi’s cheek, thumb brushing the warm skin. “There’s no trick here, hyung. This is the celebration I’m talking about.”

Yushi makes a distressed little noise, halfway between a hiss and a whine, hiding his face in Jaehee’s shoulder. “But still…” 

But even as his heart races, his scenting instinct kicks in, rubbing his cheek against Jaehee’s shoulder as though clinging for courage. 

“Come on,” Jaehee says softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his hair. “Let’s go in together.”

After hearing some more comforting words from Jaehee (and maybe kisses too), they finally stumble out of the car. It doesn’t stop Yushi from clinging onto Jaehee’s sleeve though. 

“…So much for needing time,” he quietly mumbles to himself. 

Jaehee smiles, that infuriating crescent-eyed smile that makes his lashes nearly disappear. “And now is the right time. Come on, you’re making me nervous as well.”

Yushi knows deep down Jaehee is nervous as well, from the way how sweaty his hands are. But still, Yushi gapes at him. “If you are nervous then you can only imagine what I’m feeling, Jaeeeheee!” He covers his mouth right after, mortified at his own volume. Then, quieter, “Do they know?”

The younger shakes his head. “…No, they don’t.”

Yushi wants to curl into a puff of air and vanish at the answer. He clings harder to Jaehee’s sleeve, whispering miserably, “You’re heartless… how can you do this to a creature like me.”

But Jaehee is already tugging him toward the door. Yushi’s tail swishes anxiously, brushing against Jaehee’s leg like a child reaching for a parent’s hand.

When they finally reach the door, Jaehee knocks.

There’s a sound of footsteps thunder down the hallway inside. Voices overlap; “Who could that be without telling me first?” followed by an annoyed “It better not be a salesman again.” 

And the door swings open before Yushi can truly prepare himself. Jaehee’s mother stands there, hair pinned neatly into a low bun, an apron tied over a pale yellow dress that softens the lines of her figure. She looks so beautiful that Yushi almost forgets to breathe—her eyes have the same shape and warmth as her son, her mouth the same gentle curve. Her features are softened with age and kindness, the edges smoothed away by time. She definitely smiles a lot. The pretty smile Jaehee has. She blinks at first, startled, and then her whole face lights up as she gasps. “Jaehee?! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!”

Behind her, a deeper voice cuts through. Jaehee’s father leans out from the dining room, frowning over the rim of his glasses. He looks almost identical to Jaehee, as though Jaehee had simply been copied and pressed into younger skin. The same straight brows, the same serious set of the jaw but mapped with wrinkles, his hair peppered with white. He adjusts his glasses as if to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “What’s this sudden visit? Don’t you have exams?”

“Yeah, I drove here right away. My first semester is finally over,” Jaehee answers as his father engulfs him in a hug.

While Yushi freezes at the bottom step of the porch, hovering behind Jaehee like an abandoned kitten, waiting to be noticed. His hands twitch at his sides as if debating whether to shield his face or bolt. His tail curls around his leg for comfort.

The family is still talking and asking questions. Jaehee tries to calm them with polite bows and a sheepish grin, but no one notices the small figure standing half-hidden behind him.

Until his mother catches sight of a shadow at Jaehee’s back. Her words falter. “Son… who is that?”

Three pairs of eyes turn to Yushi.

Yushi’s heart leaps into his throat. His ears flatten instantly, and he shrinks back a step as if he could melt into the doorframe and never be seen again. Every muscle screams escape, but his feet stay rooted. His hands twitch, desperate to cover his ears, his tail flicking nervously in the open. Waiting for someone to say something. Anything.

The silence after his mother’s question lasts exactly ten seconds. Then—

Smack!

Jaehee winces as his mother whacks the back of his head with her palm. “You adopted a hybrid without telling us?!” she shrieks, voice ricocheting through the whole house. “Oh my goodness, do you think this is something you just spring on your parents like a surprise pop quiz?!”

Jaehee groans, rubbing his head. “Mom, he’s not a pet—”

“Not a pet, he says!” She glares at him before whirling around, eyes softening as they land on Yushi. “Dear, did Jaehee even treat you well? He doesn’t even know how to clean his room, and don’t let his well-built body blind you because he’s been living off instant noodles since middle school!”

Yushi blinks, mouth falling open. He’s never been addressed so directly, so warmly, by a human parent before. His tail gives a startled flick, and his ears tilt as though his body can’t keep up with what’s happening.

Behind her, Jaehee’s father coughs into his fist, looking equally thrown. “Well, uh… congratulations, I suppose? Though I’m not sure when we started allowing surprise additions to the family tree, son. Just because your hyungs are all happy with their own partners doesn’t mean you can do this on a random Thursday as well.”

“Wait, it’s not like that, Dad—“

Meanwhile, Yushi, who had braced himself for judgment, for rejection, for icy stares and cruel words, can only stand frozen in the middle of it all. As he takes it all in, a quiet sigh of relief leaves him.

At the same moment, Jaehee lets out his own, shoulders sinking as though he’d been carrying a weight heavier than his textbooks. Yushi can only imagine how much scarier this is all for his mate.

Their eyes meet—one sheepish, one overwhelmed—and for once, both realize they’d been expecting the worst. They’re back to the present when Jaehee’s mother suddenly narrows her eyes at Yushi and scans him from head to toe.

“Oh my goodness, why’s he so thin!” she gasps. “Jaehee, what have you been feeding him? Do you even know what proper meals look like?!”

“Mom,” Jaehee groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s fine. He learns how to cook for himself.”

That, apparently, is the wrong answer. His mother’s shriek could probably crack glass. “What?! You let this adorable thing into the kitchen?!”

Yushi’s ears flatten at the volume, unsure if he’s in trouble or being praised. His cheeks flush when she suddenly swoops in and pulls him into a hug. He goes stiff as a board, tail puffing up like a startled cat before curling inwards against his leg.

“…g-good evening, Jaehee’s mother,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Kyaaa!” Jaehee’s mother squeals like a teenager at a fan meeting, squeezing him tighter. “He has a cute voice too! Jaehee-ya, how long have you been hiding this sweetheart from us?!”

Yushi can’t decide if he should melt or run straight out the front door.

Jaehee throws his hands up like he’s surrendering to the police. “Okay, okay! To be fair, you act differently every time Jaehyun-hyung and Jaemin-hyung bring home their hybrids, so I panicked! I didn’t know what your reaction would be!”

From the corner, Jaehee’s father mutters, rubbing his temples. “Yeah, right. What’s up with all our sons getting entranced by hybrids…”

“I’ve read somewhere in the newspaper… something about liking furries…?”

“Mom!” 

They eventually migrate to the kitchen for an early dinner, Jaehee’s mother fluttering about in constant fuss. She laments that Jaehee should have called beforehand because now she can only serve “simple food” and tuts over how poor Yushi must have never tasted a proper, home-cooked meal.

The onslaught of attention leaves Yushi overwhelmed, and he instinctively stays close to Jaehee’s side. From there, he quietly observes. He notices how Jaehee’s father lingers behind his wife, indulgent of her every antic, occasionally chiming in with a low chuckle or a bemused comment. Jaehee himself groans at her dramatics, though laughter slips through in between, unable to fully resist the warmth of it all.

The family talks with voices that seem to fill every corner of the kitchen, a kind of boisterous energy that is neither harsh nor suffocating—merely alive. Yushi tries not to fidget under the volume, reminding himself that the atmosphere feels nothing but homey, an intimacy born of long habit and love.

“I’ve been too busy staring at the cutie pie, I forgot to ask your name, darling,” Jaehee’s mother suddenly says, turning her gaze toward him.

“…Yushi,” he answers shyly. Almost unconsciously, his tail wraps around Jaehee’s leg. He catches the way Jaehee beams at the action, proud and delighted, but all Yushi feels is the rush of embarrassment heating his ears. What is it with this family and their sparkling eyes, all gazing at him as if he’s some newborn to be cooed over?

Then Jaehee’s mother says the last thing he expects. 

“Aww, welcome to the family, Yushi.” 

His throat tightens, and Yushi has the desperate urge to bury himself under the table.

Yushi doesn’t really get to breathe in peace in this household apparently because Jaehee’s mother sets her spoon down and fixes Jaehee with a curious look.

“Since when?” she asks.

The hybrid holds back a cough and shrinks back. It isn’t an accusatory tone, just curiosity but his chest still tightens at every question that is being thrown out.

Jaehee hesitates, scratching the back of his neck before muttering, “Urm… a month before you gave me that surprise visit… haha?”

The parents exchange knowing glances.

“Is that why your guest room was locked?” Jaehee’s mother asks.

“And was the old phone Yushi’s?” the father adds.

Jaehee can only wince, guilt flashing across his face, while beside him, Yushi lowers his head in quiet embarrassment.

That’s when his mother suddenly shifts the direction of the conversation, narrowing her eyes with mock severity. “Do your hyungs know, Jaehee-ya? Don’t tell me they do, I might kick you out now.”

“No, they don’t.”

“We should call them later then,” she announces, as if it’s already been decided.

Yushi nearly chokes on his own breath. Panic darts up his spine like lightning. Call them? His ears twitch involuntarily. He barely had time to prepare himself for meeting Jaehee’s parents, and now they’re talking about involving his siblings? It’s too much, too soon—his instincts scream for him to retreat somewhere quiet and curl into a corner where no one can see him.

As if sensing every flicker of his unease, Jaehee cuts in. “Let’s call them tomorrow. I’m too tired to hear them freaking out. And scolding me.” He grumbles the last part, dragging his spoon through his food like a sulking child.

His father raises an eyebrow. “So you do know what you’re doing.”

The son chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Yushi watches the exchange quietly, tail coiled tight around his leg. His ears flatten, then lift, then flatten again, unable to decide which way to settle with so much noise and attention swirling around him. 

It’s… fascinating.

The hybrid isn’t sure if this is simply how families are, or if he’s just hopeless at making conversation. He lowers his gaze, focusing on his plate. He doesn’t trust his voice not to shake, so he says nothing, giving only a small, polite smile when someone looks his way.

Still, he feels Jaehee’s knee brush against his under the table. Like a quiet reminder. You’re safe here.

And even though he stays silent for the rest of dinner, Yushi’s tail betrays him, slowly loosening its tight coil around his leg until it rests lightly against Jaehee’s instead.

Eventually, after hours of the family catching up with Yushi quietly tucked against Jaehee’s warmth, Jaehee finally excuses them, murmuring about how his body aches and that he needs to rest. 

Yushi rises to follow him upstairs, but just as he takes a step, a voice calls his name.

“Yushi.”

He freezes mid-step, ears twitching at the sound. When he turns, it’s Jaehee’s mother standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her expression soft but sharp enough to still make him jolt. He must look hesitant and awkward because she chuckles and waves him closer.

“Dont be scared. Come here.” 

He’s heard about this woman countless times. Heard Jaehee complain endearingly about her, laugh at her quirks, sigh about her fussiness, even groan about her meddling. Jaehee’s family has always been this vivid, faraway picture Yushi has only pieced together through stories. And now—now she’s talking to him directly, alone.

It makes everything feel real.

He’s in Jaehee’s childhood home. He’s someone Jaehee brought here. Someone important enough to stand in this space.

A cat hybrid like him.

“…Yes, ma’am,” he manages, bowing his head slightly.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Aren’t you Jaehee’s boyfriend?”

“…Yes.”

“Then just call me Mom.” 

Yushi gapes, lips parting silently like a fish out of water as he feels his chest twist painfully. His vision blurs for just a second, and he hates how easily those words undo him. He swallows hard. “…I can do that?”

“Of course you can. Come here.” She opens her arms, smiling warmly. “If you want to only. I know how cat hybrids get cautious with people they don’t know.”

Yushi hesitates, every instinct telling him to keep his guard up. But this is Jaehee’s mother. The woman who raised the boy who stayed up late studying, who still whines about his room, who looks at Yushi like he’s the best thing that’s ever happened. 

So he steps forward and lets himself sink into her hug.

It’s warm. Smothering in a way that makes him stiffen at first, then soften gradually. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the sound rumbling in his chest. The urge to purr is strong, embarrassingly so.

But it must be obvious anyway—because his tail is swishing happily behind him. Stupid tail. 

Jaehee’s mother laughs, patting his back. “There, there. You’re adorable.”

Yushi tucks his chin against her shoulder, flustered beyond repair. It reminds him of Jaehee catching him when he jumped into his arms earlier. 

“Jaehee is still so young,” she continues gently, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I hope you don’t mind that everyone is… a little shocked about it. He’s always been my baby, you know? So seeing him bring home someone, especially a sweet hybrid like you… it takes a moment to settle. Just don’t take it personally.”

Yushi only nods, too overwhelmed to string words together. He understands. He really does.

When he finally excuses himself and pads upstairs, Jaehee’s in the shower. The sound of running water hums faintly through the door, so Yushi slips into the bedroom alone.

The room smells faintly of soap, laundry powder, and just a tiny tiny bit of cinnamon. He pauses, gaze sweeping over the space. It’s a little messy, undeniably the bedroom of someone who once scrawled homework late into the night and maybe sulked under these very covers after an argument. The bed is smaller than Yushi expected. A little creaky when he sits down on the edge, tail curling around him as he takes it all in.

It doesn’t take long before the bathroom door creaks open, and Jaehee steps out, steam curling behind him. His hair is damp, sticking to his forehead, and his skin is flushed pink from the warm shower. He looks sleepy, cheeks glowing faintly as though the heat still clings to him. Yushi feels his chest tighten at the sight. God, he’s so handsome it’s unfair.

The younger’s already smiling the moment he sees Yushi sitting patiently on the bed.

“Jaehee.” Yushi says his name quietly, almost like testing how it feels in his mouth, though he knows Jaehee’s full attention is already locked on him. He just wants to say it. It might be Yushi’s new favourite word.

“Yes, hyung.”

The hybrid tilts his head cutely, ears twitching as he repeats it, softer this time. “Jaehee.”

Jaehee laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “What is it?”

“Let me dry your hair with the towel.” 

For a moment, Jaehee just blinks at him, visibly surprised. Back home on lazy weekends, it’s always Jaehee who takes the towel to Yushi’s hair, fussing over the strands until they’re halfway dry. Yushi never says much then, because he doesn’t need to. He just soaks in the attention, greedy for it, greedy for Jaehee’s eyes on no one else but him.

But tonight, in Jaehee’s childhood room, with the weight of the evening still in his chest, Yushi wants to return the care.

Jaehee’s lips curve into something soft, almost boyish, before he steps forward and presses a towel into Yushi’s hands. Then, without a word, he sinks to the floor and sits cross-legged, his back turned slightly so Yushi can reach, his face tipped up just enough to meet Yushi’s gaze.

Yushi’s tail curls instinctively against his thigh as he lifts the towel and gently pats at the wet strands (which Jaehee happily caresses). The fabric rustles quietly. Droplets fall onto Jaehee’s shoulders, and Yushi wipes them away carefully.

Silence settles between them. A pocket of peace after the whirlwind of today. Yushi listens to the faint hum of the house, to Jaehee’s steady breathing and to the soft sound of towel against hair.

And when Yushi finishes drying his hair, he doesn’t immediately move away. Instead, he cups Jaehee’s face gently with the towel still in his hands, studying him closely. Damp strands frame Jaehee’s forehead, his cheeks flushed from the shower, and he looks tired, so, so tired.

“Today must feel like forever for you,” Yushi pouts.

“It’s worth it,” Jaehee replies without missing a beat. His lips quirk and his eyes almost disappearing into crescents. “I can’t believe my parents—well, more like my mother actually—liked you in a glance. I wasn’t lying when I said it takes her months to warm up to Taeyong hyung. That’s why I was hesitant about… all of this.”

The older opens his mouth to interrupt, but Jaehee presses on. “I’m sorry for hiding you from them. I should’ve just been honest.”

Yushi’s tail curls against his thigh. “Don’t say that. It must have been scary for you, right? If they didn’t accept me.” Then there’s mischief in his eyes as his voice slips into a playful lilt. “It was still fairly new too, and you already liked me that much back then, hm?”

Jaehee scrunches his nose. “I do.”

Before he can think better of it, he shifts off the bed and settles onto Jaehee’s lap, curling against him. His tail winds around Jaehee’s waist. “…I honestly don’t get why Sion was so worried about you taking me in back then. But just now… your mother told me the same thing. And they’re all right. You’re still young, Jaehee. Are you sure you want to have me with you? You have a long journey to go.”

He doesn’t mean it to sound so serious, it’s just an innocent, curious question but Jaehee takes it as such as his brows drawing into a faint frown.

“I think I know what I want,” Jaehee says firmly. “Sure, I have a long way to go. But I’ll learn through it all. I really want you, hyung.”

The words hit Yushi like a car, twice over, and still leave him alive, heart racing. He’s never said it in their five months together, always letting Jaehee carry those words, letting himself bask in them. But tonight, with Jaehee’s certainty written across his face, Yushi has no choice. He lifts his head, meets Jaehee’s eyes, and lets it spill out.

“I love you, Jaehee.”

The words come out as a whisper, but it’s there. Because Yushi doesn’t know much about love. What he was taught when he was younger was a different kind of love, something along the way of ownership, obedience. A pet to a master. A frightening one.

But Jaehee… in such a short time, Jaehee has rewritten everything. And if this… this warmth in his chest, this certainty in his bones is what love really is, like how Riku once tried to explain it to him, then it isn’t scary at all.

Especially when Jaehee’s eyes soften, lips curling into a smile that makes Yushi’s heart flutter. “I love you more, hyung.”

🐈

(The next morning, they do end up calling Jaehee’s brothers and Yushi would say their reactions are nothing short of hilarious.

Jaehee tries to ease into it, chatting casually with Jaemin and Jaehyun first. Yushi can tell he’s stalling, the way his fingers tap nervously on the table, but his mother is far too impatient to let it slide.

 “Your little dongsaeng brought home a cat hybrid,” she blurts, arms folded.

The silence that follows is deafening. Yushi almost wonders if the call froze.

Then, in perfect unison, “What?!” 

Jaehee winces. “So—“

Before he can explain, his brothers’ voices rise all at once. 

“You didn’t tell us?!”

“You let Mom know before us?!”

“Hey, what’s wrong with that?!” their mother cuts in indignantly, hand on her hip.

Jaemin throws his hands up. “Have you seen how you reacted when we brought home our hybrids back in the day?!”

“I’ve become older and I’ve learned better!” she snaps back, before softening instantly as her gaze slides to Yushi. “Besides, Yushi is a sweet little thing!”

At that, Jaehee reluctantly turns the camera toward him. Yushi, caught like a deer in headlights, bows his head shyly. His ears twitch down, tail curling close to his leg.

The chorus of screams that follows nearly makes him flatten against Jaehee’s side.

Yushi doesn’t understand half of the loud bickering that ensues between the siblings and their mother, but he sits quietly, lips twitching as a chuckle escapes him. Watching them fight over something as silly as the order of who found out first… it makes his chest warm.

It’s overwhelming, yes, but in the kind of way that feels like sunlight streaming through a window.

And so, while chaos unfolds on the screen, Yushi just presses closer to Jaehee, tail brushing against his thigh, quietly amused and quietly grateful all at once to be accepted.)