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While Kim Dokja had been with Yoo Joonghyuk for almost a year now—eight months and ten days, if you really wanted to be technical—it appeared they still had their individual secrets.
When Kim Dokja entered the passcode into the door, he didn’t expect to come across one of those secrets.
“What the…” Kim Dokja’s left nearly speechless as he looks down at his feet, the cat there curled up in on itself. Its fur is black, flowing and long—completely spotless. To be fair, it’s not like he’d be able to tell if it was dirty or not because of the black of its fur. The cat there sleeps, its body rising and falling in tandem with its breaths.
The cat looks to be healthy, fully-grown. Kim Dokja didn’t consider himself a cat person, but even he could tell that the cat was stunningly beautiful, its silken fur shining as the sun from the windows shone on it. He didn’t know much about cats nor cat breeds, not at all, but he supposed it looked similar to a maine coon.
The cat makes some garbled sound in its sleep. It sounds like a demonic yawn.
“Yoo Joonghyuk, you bastard,” Kim Dokja mutters under his breath. How long did he keep this from him? How did Yoo Joonghyuk even keep a cat hidden in their shared apartment? Did their apartment complex even allow pets? Yoo Joonghyuk, that fucking bastard. He didn’t even tell him about this, and he wouldn’t be able to answer these goddamn questions of his until he came back out from wherever he was hiding.
Whatever. He couldn’t have the cat just laying there on the ground. Even with the sun shining down on it, it was surely too cold. And he knew Yoo Joonghyuk would probably be spectacularly pissed with him if he let his beautiful, prized cat get sick. He’d move it onto the couch and drape a blanket over it. It was better to track cat hair all over the apartment than to deal with the consequences of a sick cat.
He kneels down as his hands inch towards the cat, trying to pick it up while keeping it asleep. But as soon as his hands make contact with the cat, it stirs in its sleep. The cat’s breathing abruptly stops, alert. Cursing under his breath, Kim Dokja tries to let go of the cat before it fully wakes up, but he’s too late.
The cat starts yowling like crazy as Kim Dokja’s hands still remain placed on its underbelly. It flails like a fish on land, its paws going flying.
“Fuck!” Kim Dokja yells as the cat tries to jump on his arms. It’s still half asleep, moving on base instinct. It’s a complete disaster, however, dealing with the cat’s instinct to escape from danger. The danger here being Kim Dokja, of course.
The issue is, getting away from him and getting closer to him are apparently the same thing in the mind of a sleep-addled cat.
“Ow—ow, ow ow!” The cat scratches him on his arms as it tries to cling on. “Hey, stop, stop! I’m just trying to move you somewhere else—ow! What the—ouch!”
Kim Dokja doesn’t even have time to grasp the pure insanity of the situation of him fighting with a cat as it actively assaults him. Of course, it’s dumb of him to even try to talk to a cat—one that surely wouldn’t understand him—but he couldn’t do much else when it has its claws digging deep into his skin. The scratches hurt like hell, but thankfully the cat has enough mind to stop flailing once Kim Dokja pushes it off of his arms with a hand.
The cat smoothly lands on the floor with a meow, its four paws making contact with the faux wooden flooring. It looks at him, its yellow eyes blinking blearily as it fights off sleep. Like it just didn’t attack Kim Dokja, it starts to clean itself, licking its paws in an almost cute manner. Of course, it wasn’t cute at all coming from this quadrupedal murder machine.
“What the hell,” Kim Dokja says as he recovers from the brief assault. “Yoo Joonghyuk, you fucking asshole.”
This fucker. If he kept a cat secretly in their apartment, he should’ve at least raised it well. For one, he should’ve taught it not to attack people and then act all cute afterwards. But to be fair, he had picked it up when it was asleep, when it was most vulnerable.
The cat had stopped, suddenly staring at him. Kim Dokja couldn’t read the expressions of cats, but it looks a little scared. He bites back the pain of his scratched arms and tries not to notice the blood beading up on the wounds.
“Kitty, come here,” Kim Dokja says, “come, please. Yoo Joonghyuk’s gonna kill me if I don’t take care of you. Come, come.” He gestures with his hands and makes a pspsps sound. The only thing that does is make the cat more pissed off, apparently. It looks at him with an almost too familiar expression as it sits there, unmoving.
But then, as it sees the blood on his arms, the cat seems to have a change of heart. It walks towards him, mewling pitifully—almost apologetically.
“Good boy,” Kim Dokja says, “or girl.” He actually didn’t know what gender it was. It’s not like it mattered much anyways.
The cat makes it to his leg and rubs against it, its fur getting everywhere. “Hey, no, stop.” Kim Dokja imagines the hassle of cleaning it and immediately tries to grab onto the cat, but it dodges him, hissing.
That always-pissed-off expression and those I’m-gonna-murder-you eyes remind him so much of Yoo Joonghyuk. Like owner, like pet, he supposes.
“Come on, don’t be stubborn,” Kim Dokja protests again, reaching for the cat with both arms this time. It avoids his first swipe expertly, but is quickly caught in his second. It yowls hesitantly, but doesn’t start clawing at him like before. Unexpectedly, it’s quite well-behaved now, only glaring at him instead of trying to scratch his face off.
The cat is unbelievably fluffy, and Kim Dokja pats it once, twice, and three times before it mews in disapproval. It looks more pissed than ever before. Kim Dokja sees why Yoo Joonghyuk kept his cat now, even if it was a stubborn, slippery bastard just like he is. It was strangely endearing and cute seeing it try to escape from his clutches.
What was not endearing was how ruffled its fur had gotten from the earlier tussle. Neither was the blood that he was dripping all over the cat in his arms. If Yoo Joonghyuk had come home at this moment, he’d burst a vessel for sure.
While he did enjoy pissing off Yoo Joonghyuk, involving an innocent—maybe not so innocent—bystander into the mix was not his modus operandi.
“Hey, kitty,” he says. “We gotta get you cleaned up before Yoo Joonghyuk gets home.”
Apparently those were the wrong words to say, as it sends the cat flailing in his arms again. Shit.
This time, he has a better grip on it. All it can do is pitifully paw at his shirt, desperately trying to get out of his arms. With how much it was struggling, you would think Kim Dokja had threatened to feed it something disgusting.
As he walks to the bathroom with a struggling cat in his arms, two things happen. One: the cat suddenly yowls and Kim Dokja feels it shifting and growing bigger and heavier for some godforsaken reason. Two: the cat suddenly becomes not a cat and Kim Dokja finds himself holding an over 200lbs very-disgruntled-very-naked Yoo Joonghyuk in his arms for a split second before crashing down.
“What the fuck?!” Kim Dokja sputters out before crashing down onto the floor. His arms, if not damaged before from the earlier cat scratches, were likely broken now.
Above him, he hears an angry, muffled cry. “Kim Dokja!”