Chapter Text
The rink stayed bright long after the rest of the city had decided it was night.
Light poured down from the ceiling in merciless strips while catching on the ice and turning every scratch into a silver thread. The air smelled like cold metal and sharpened breath. Like sweat that had nowhere to go but into fabric and skin. Even the sound of it was crisp with blades hissing and music muffled through tired speakers and the occasional clap of hands like punctuation.
Minhyung stood at the boards with his palms braced on the rail. His chest was rising and falling in slow and measured pulls.
Up close, he was both handsome and pretty that didn't need accessories. It was almost unfair. A face built for spotlights even when he was half-dead with exhaustion. His lashes were dark and thick enough to look styled even when they weren't, and the wet strands of his hair clung to his forehead in soft pieces that framed his eyes like the world was determined to make him look tragic on principle. His features were gentle in shape with rounded cheeks, a mouth that naturally rested like it was holding back a comment although there was something sharp underneath it all when he was tired like the way his gaze went distant, or the way his jaw set like a lock clicking into place.
His body was skater-trained in a way cameras loved and reality punished. Lean strength, long lines through his neck and shoulders. He had the posture that looked effortless until you realized it was practice carved into bone. Even when he stood still, he looked like he was holding a position. He was always spine tall, weight precise and a balance never accidental.
His cheekbone however, betrayed everything.
A bruise sat there like a soft shadow pressed into his skin and forgotten to lift. Under the rink's fluorescent glare, it wasn't dramatic enough for anyone to gasp over but it was there. Like a constant ache blooming low and persistent. Like it had its own pulse. If you didn't look too hard, you could pretend it came from skating. A bad landing. A collision. Off-ice training.
Minhyung had gotten very good at giving people shapes to fit their questions into. He flexed his fingers once. Twice. His hands were the first to betray him when he was tired. Feeling tremor at the edges though not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that he did. Enough that he pressed the heel of his palm into the rail until the bone complained and began grounding himself in something that didn't move.
Across the glass, the parking lot lights blurred into soft halos. Rain sluiced down the windows in fast, slanted lines and was bending the world into streaks. Thunder hadn't started yet, but the sky looked like it was holding its breath.
A voice cut through the rink's hum. Perfectly timed to irritate him.
"Yah. Lee Minhyung."
Minhyung didn't turn right away. He knew that voice too well. Knew the rhythm of it. Knew the way it sounded like a grin even when the words were scolding.
"Don't you 'yah' me," he said flatly, as if that would stop the inevitable.
Hwanjoong leaned on the boards beside him like he owned the place. He was looking sturdy and grounded. Shoulders broad under a black jacket. Hair cropped neat and practical. Round glasses sat on his nose, making him look softer than his personality actually was. Also, there is just a very specific brand of smugness in his expression that suggested he had been waiting for a chance to be annoying (as always).
He was the rink's coach's assistant on paper, but everyone who mattered knew Hwanjoong was really the person who kept the chaos contained. Wrangling schedules, yelling at skaters who forgot to eat, fixing music files and taping injuries with the efficiency of someone who'd done it a thousand times.
Also, Minhyung's friend.
The type of friend who cared so much he disguised it as rage bait.
Hwanjoong's eyes flicked over Minhyung like a scan. From his posture, to his breath, to the way he held his shoulder, and then landed on the bruise on his face with the accuracy of a knife.
His brows lifted a fraction. "Wow," he said in a deadpan expression. "You're getting creative. Is that a new makeup trend? 'I got into a fistfight with gravity' chic?"
Minhyung's mouth twitched despite himself. "It was a fall."
"Mhm." Hwanjoong hummed like he was listening to a lie he'd heard before. "A fall that shaped itself like a hand."
Minhyung's smile threatened to crack. He forced it back into place like the way he did with cameras. "You're imagining things."
"I'm imagining you collapsing on my ice and making me do paperwork." Hwanjoong shifted closer. His shoulder was bumping Minhyung's lightly. It was a small touch and casual on the surface, but it carried some weight. "How many run-throughs did you do?"
"Enough."
"That's not a number."
Minhyung stared at the ice instead of answering. A younger skater cut across it in a wobbling spiral with arms too tense and a chin lifted like determination alone could keep him from tipping. The coach called something encouraging. Someone laughed at the edge of the rink. Life kept moving.
Minhyung's phone buzzed in his pocket.
His body went still.
Hwanjoong noticed because Hwanjoong always noticed. His gaze flicked down, then back up to Minhyung's face. He didn't ask (not yet), but the air around him sharpened.
Minhyung didn't have to check the screen to know the name. The buzz had become its own language.
Short means to answer.
Long should mean now.
A flurry of taps means impatience and he is making him wait.
He kept his gaze on the ice until his pulse stopped trying to climb out of his throat.
His phone buzzed again.
Minhyung exhaled slowly and pulled it out with fingers that felt too cold despite the rink's warmth. The screen lit up with messages stacked like steps he couldn't avoid.
Where are you?
You said you were done.
Don't make me come there.
Minhyung stared at the words until they stopped being words and became weight.
Hwanjoong didn't look at the screen. He looked at Minhyung's face instead. Looked at the micro-flinch at the corner of his mouth and the way his eyes went flat.
"Tell him you're busy being a national treasure," Hwanjoong said casually like it was a joke. Like he wasn't trying to give Minhyung a rope to grab onto.
Minhyung's thumb hovered over the keyboard.
I am still at the rink.
Our practice went long.
I'm leaving now.
He hesitated, then added what he always added because it was easier than resisting.
I am really sorry.
The typing bubble appeared instantly, like the other person had been waiting with their finger poised.
You're always sorry.
Don't forget what we talked about.
Minhyung's throat tightened on something that wasn't quite a laugh. Of course. No such things as 'Are you okay?' No 'How was practice?' No 'Did you eat?'
You're always sorry.
He slid the phone back into his pocket and pressed his palms hard into the rail again until his hands stopped shaking.
Hwanjoong made a sound like he was biting back ten things at once. Then he chose the one that wouldn't make Minhyung run.
"You know," he opened brightly, "if you're trying to speedrun burnout, you're doing amazing. Ten out of ten. As one of your coaches, I am very proud of you."
Minhyung huffed a laugh that came out rough. "Shut up."
"No, seriously." Hwanjoong leaned in. His voice dropped into something softer beneath the teasing. "Text me when you get home."
"I'm not twelve."
"You're worse than twelve. Twelve-year-olds don't pretend they're fine with half their face purple." Hwanjoong's eyes flicked, quick as a heartbeat, to the bruise again. "And you're definitely not walking out there without—"
Without what?
Minhyung blinked. "I have my—" He patted his bag automatically. Then his jacket pockets.
Nothing.
Hwanjoong's expression shifted into immediate, delighted horror. "Oh my god. Please tell me you did not forget your umbrella."
Minhyung's soul left his body.
"I—" he started, then stopped, because there was no recovery from this.
Hwanjoong's grin was wicked. "Lee Minhyung. Rising figure skater. Face of a sportswear brand. Owner of probably thirty-seven expensive lip balms. And you forgot—"
"Okay," Minhyung snapped, but there was no heat in it. He was just tired. "I forgot."
Hwanjoong looked like he wanted to say I'll walk you home. Looked like he wanted to physically place himself between Minhyung and whatever waited outside the rink doors.
Instead, he shoved his own umbrella into Minhyung's hands.
Minhyung blinked down at it. "What about you?"
"I live five minutes away," Hwanjoong lied smoothly. He lived fifteen. In this weather, it might as well be an hour. "Also, I'm built different."
"You're built annoying," Minhyung said automatically, because this was safer than saying thank you according to how their dynamic works.
Hwanjoong beamed. "Exactly."
Then, like he couldn't help himself, he reached out and flicked Minhyung's forehead with two fingers. Not too hard though. Just enough to be irritating.
"Go home," Hwanjoong said. The teasing dropped away completely for one honest second. "Eat something. Don't answer messages if you don't want to. And—" His gaze cut to Minhyung's cheekbone again and with worry etched in his face. "Don't let anyone talk to you like you're something they get to keep."
Minhyung's breath caught. He stared at Hwanjoong like he didn't know what to do with sincerity. Like it was a language he'd forgotten.
So he did what he always did.
He just smiled.
"Okay," he said lightly. "Coach's assistant is getting dramatic."
Hwanjoong's jaw worked. His eyes softened anyway. "Yeah, well. Someone has to. Since you won't."
Minhyung swallowed and nodded once. He turned away before the warmth in his chest could turn into something dangerous like tears. He gathered his things. His skates carefully unlaced, guards snapped on, towel stuffed into his bag, and jacket zipped. The familiar motions were a lullaby for his nerves. He moved like a person who knew where every piece of himself belonged.
By the time he pushed through the rink doors, the cold hit him hard enough to steal his breath.
Rain slapped his face immediately. Sharp drops driven sideways by the wind. The air outside didn't just feel cold. It felt biting and restless. Like it had a life of its own. Water sank into his collar and crawled down his spine.
He opened Hwanjoong's umbrella.
The wind immediately tried to rip it from his hands like the sky was offended by the idea of him having protection.
Minhyung tightened his grip and started walking anyway.
Cars hissed past. Tires sliced water into spray. Neon signage bled color into puddles of red, blue, and green. All of it smeared by motion and rain. His sneakers were soaked through within minutes anyway, because the umbrella only saved his head and the storm didn't care about the rest of him.
His phone buzzed again.
Minhyung ignored it.
He told himself the storm was just weather. But something about it felt personal. Like the sky had taken one look at him and decided he didn't deserve to be dry.
Another block. Another crosswalk. His thoughts tried to claw at him. Images he didn't want to see. Words he didn't want to hear. He focused on what he could control. The feel of the umbrella handle in his palm. The rhythm of his steps. The sound of rain—
Then it was in the alley beside a convenience store where he heard it.
At first it wasn't even a sound he could place. It was too thin and too swallowed by wind and rain. Just a note of wrongness in the air, like something out of tune.
Then it came again.
A meow.
Doesn't even sound like a normal one. Not the demanding, entitled cry of a well-fed cat that knew humans would cave. This was ragged. Broken. Like it hurts to make a noise at all.
Minhyung slowed.
His heart did something sharp, then cautious. The alley was dark. It was lit only by the spill of convenience store light and a flickering lamp farther down. Trash bins lined one wall. A dumpster sat near the back like a hulking silhouette.
The meow came again, and it was weaker than the previous one.
Minhyung should've kept walking.
He knew that. The sensible part of him. It was small, but not dead. It told him that it was late. It was storming, and he was alone.
But the sound pulled at something in him that didn't listen to sense.
Minhyung stepped into the alley.
The rain didn't let up. It hammered down harder between the buildings. It was turning the air into mist. The smell here was worse. Full of wet cardboard, old food, and something sour.
He moved carefully with his eyes scanning the shadows.
"Hello?" he called with a voice barely above the rain. Like speaking louder would scare it away.
A faint, choked noise answered him from near the dumpster.
Minhyung's chest tightened. He took two more steps, then another.
And there… half hidden behind a torn plastic bag and a pile of soaked paper—was a cat.
White. Or… it used to be. Now the fur was greyed with grime and clotted into damp clumps. The cat's body was curled too tightly, like it was trying to fold itself into nothing. One leg looked wrong. It held stiff and was not tucked comfortably. The cat shivered so hard its whole frame trembled.
Minhyung crouched slowly, the cold seeping instantly into his knees.
"Hey," he whispered, because something about the sight made his voice go soft without him meaning it to. "Hey, baby…"
The cat's head lifted a fraction and opened its eyes.
Blue.
Not bright kitten-blue. Not the warm, curious blue of something that expected kindness.
It looked winter-blue. Cold and sharp and suspicious, even through exhaustion.
The cat stared at him like Minhyung was a threat.
Minhyung stayed still. His palm kept resting on his own knee. Rain dripped off his hair, and slid down his jaw. The bruise on his cheek throbbed. He barely noticed it.
"You're hurt," he murmured uselessly.
The cat's ears pinned back. A weak hiss scraped out, more out of habit than strength.
Minhyung's throat tightened.
Of course. Of course it didn't trust him. How could it?
Something ugly twisted in Minhyung's stomach at the thought of hands doing this. Hands like the ones that had pressed pain into his own skin and then told him it was love.
"Okay," Minhyung breathed. "Okay. I'm not gonna… I'm not gonna hurt you."
He lifted his hand slowly. His palm up and fingers loose. He was offering, not a grab.
The cat's gaze tracked the movement. Its pupils were wide with fear. Its body tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere to go.
Minhyung swallowed. Rain slid into his mouth and it tasted like metal.
"I know," he whispered, and he wasn't sure if he meant the cat or himself. "I know what it's like."
Another gust of wind cut through the alley, and the cat's shiver turned violent. Its mouth opened, and the sound that came out wasn't even a full meow. It was now just a thin and broken plea.
Minhyung's breath hitched.
That did it. That shattered the last bit of distance he'd been clinging to.
He stripped his jacket off in one motion despite the cold. Despite the way the wet fabric that now clung to him. He draped it over the cat like a blanket.
The cat flinched. It was trying to lash out, but its claws only scraped weakly against the fabric.
"I'm sorry," Minhyung whispered quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry—just… just stay warm."
The cat's eyes stayed on him, unblinking. Distrust carved into every line of its face.
Minhyung leaned in a fraction. He was being careful, and slid one hand under the cat's chest. The bones felt too sharp under the fur. He was too light. Like there wasn't enough body there to hold a life.
The cat stiffened, letting out another weak hiss.
Minhyung's other hand supported its hindquarters. For one terrible second, Minhyung thought the cat was going to fight. Thought it would spend its last energy on hurting him just to keep itself safe.
Then the cat's head sagged.
Its weight fell into Minhyung's hands like surrender.
Minhyung froze. Panic came spiking.
"No," he breathed. "No, hey—don't—don't you do that."
The cat's eyes fluttered half-lidded. Its breathing was shallow yet fast.
Minhyung's heart began to pound like it wanted out.
"Okay," he said with his voice shaking. "Okay, I've got you. I've got you."
He scooped the cat up fully. He began cradling it against his chest the way you held something so precious or fragile. Like if he gripped too hard it would break.
The cat was cold. It was so cold it hurt.
Rain soaked through his shirt immediately, but Minhyung barely felt it. All he felt was the small, trembling body in his arms and the fierce, sudden need to keep it from disappearing.
He fumbled his phone out with one hand. His thumb swiping to call the only number that mattered right now.
It rang once.
Twice.
Minhyung bounced slightly on his heels while holding the cat tighter to keep it warm. To keep it here with him.
"Minseokie," he whispered before the call even connected. Like saying the name could summon help faster. "Pick up."
On the third ring, Minseok answered. His voice was thick with sleep and immediate annoyance. "If this is about you forgetting to eat again, I swear—"
"Minseokie," Minhyung cuts in breathless. "I found a cat. He's—he's really bad. I think he's—"
There was a pause so sharp it felt like the world stopped with it.
Minseok's voice changed completely. "Where are you?"
Minhyung looked down at the cat. The blue eyes were barely open now. Its lashes were wet, and its face turned into Minhyung's chest like it had given up on fighting.
He swallowed hard. "Near the convenience store by the rink. There is an alley behind it."
"Don't hang up," Minseok snapped. "Keep him warm. I'm opening the clinic. Stay where you are or come straight here—can you walk?"
"Yes," Minhyung said even though his legs suddenly felt like they didn't belong to him. "Yes, I'm— I'm coming."
"Good," Minseok said. "And Minhyungie—"
Minhyung braced because he thought Minseok might ask how he was doing recently. Might ask the question everyone avoided until it was too late.
But Minseok only said fiercely, "Don't you let him go."
Minhyung's throat tightened so hard he almost couldn't breathe.
"I won't," he whispered.
He ended the call and started running.
His feet were not taking him too fast. Not with the way the rain slicked the sidewalks and the way the cat's body jolted slightly with every step. He tried his best to drag his feet with urgency and desperation. He was moving like if he stopped, the world would take this small life back the way it had thrown it away.
The storm roared around him.
Minhyung tucked his chin, shielding the cat with his body, and ran anyway.
Minseok's clinic sat wedged between a laundromat and a closed kimbap shop. It was small and just the place you only noticed if you were looking for it. Tonight, it glowed like a lighthouse.
Minhyung saw the sign first. Despite his vision being blurred from rain, something in his chest loosened so violently it almost hurt. His arms ached from holding the cat tight against him. His muscles were trembling from the effort and the fear and the cold. His shirt was soaked through. Water had found every seam of his clothes and crawled in like it belonged there.
The umbrella was gone at some point. Lost to a gust of wind or a moment of panic. He didn't even know where, when or how it happened. Hwanjoong's voice flashed through his mind—
'Go home. Eat something. Don't answer messages if you don't want to.'
Minhyung hadn't gone home.
He pushed through the clinic door hard enough for the bell to jangle like a warning.
Warmth hit him immediately. It was dry with the artificial heat and smell of antiseptic and rubber gloves and something faintly animal. The lights were softer here than the rink's fluorescent cruelty, but they were still bright enough to expose everything.
Minseok was already at the counter like he'd been summoned by the panic in Minhyung's voice and dragged the whole clinic awake with him.
He was shorter than Minhyung by a noticeable amount. Their height difference is even more obvious the moment they stood side by side. If Minhyung is all long lines and skater posture, Minseok is more "compact" and solid. But whatever he lacked in height, he made up for in presence. The clinic felt smaller with him in it, like the air knew better than to get in his way.
His hair fell in a neat, dark fringe that made him look deceptively soft at first glance. The illusion lasted exactly one second right up until you met his eyes. No lenses to soften them, no barrier at all. He just carries sharp focus that looked too awake for this hour and the stare that could pin you in place without raising its voice.
Those eyes landed on Minhyung and did a quick, ruthless scan at his soaked clothes, shaking hands, the bruise on his cheek—
Then snapped to the bundle in Minhyung's arms. The shift was immediate and almost violent. Everything in Minseok sharpened into purpose.
"Put him here," Minseok said as he was already moving. His voice was clipped and professional, but Minhyung heard what lived underneath it. He didn't seem like he was panicking. Not confusion. He seemed… angry. An anger that didn't waste time on words, nor something that promised later.
Minhyung hurried past the counter. His boots were squeaking on the floor. His fingers felt numb, but he kept his grip careful as he approached the exam table. Stainless steel, cold and too clean for the story that had just walked in.
He hesitated. The cat's body was pressed to his chest. It looked small and trembling. Its head was tucked as if hiding from the world. Its blue eyes were barely open now. Its lashes were wet, and there was still that faint stiffness in its limbs. Still with the defensive tension that hadn't let go even when it was half-dead.
Minhyung's throat tightened.
Minseok reached out. "Minhyungie."
Minhyung flinched at his name. The sound snapping him out of it. He swallowed hard and lowered the cat onto the table with slow, careful hands.
The moment the cat touched metal, it jerked weakly from instinctive fear. A hiss rasped out though it came out brittle and thin.
Minhyung's hands hovered helplessly. It was as if he could physically hold the cat's panic back. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, I'm here."
Minseok moved in fast and efficiently. One hand steadied the cat gently but firmly. The other lifted the damp fur just enough to see. His fingers knew its practice. From checking gums, to feeling for fractures, and counting breaths without counting out loud. The cat tried to pull away from him. It was moving weakly but stubborn. Its ears were pinned. Its pupils widened until its eyes looked like dark pools in winter ice.
Minseok didn't react like a person who took offense. He reacted like a person who understood the fear in the poor animal.
"Shh," he murmured low. "Okay. Okay, I know. I know."
Minhyung could only watch. His chest was tight. He hadn't realized he was shaking until he saw his own hands in his peripheral vision. They were trembling like loose wires. He shoved them into his jacket pockets out of instinct.
Except he wasn't wearing his jacket.
He'd draped it over the cat back in the alley.
The cold hit him all over again. Now that the adrenaline was thinning.
Minseok's fingers paused at the cat's side. His expression flickered. Then his mouth tightened into a line so thin it almost disappeared.
"Someone beat him," Minseok said.
The words landed hard and blunt, like a diagnosis you couldn't pretend you didn't hear.
Minhyung's stomach lurched.
Minseok didn't look up. He kept his hands steady and professional. Anger was something he could compartmentalize into a box labeled later.
"He's got bruising along the ribs," Minseok continued. "Possible hairline fracture and that leg—" He shifted slightly. He began testing, and the cat let out a broken sound that made Minhyung's heart slam into his throat. "—yeah. Something's wrong there. Could be a sprain, could be a fracture. He's hypothermic."
Minhyung's voice came out hoarse. "Is he going to die?"
Minseok finally looked up. His eyes locked on Minhyung's for a long second.
Then very deliberately, he softened his tone. "Not if I can help it."
Minhyung inhaled shakily. The air was catching somewhere in his chest. He didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until it rushed out of him in a broken exhale.
Minseok pulled on gloves with a snap. "I need you to step back, okay? Not because you're doing anything wrong. Just—space."
Minhyung nodded quickly. "Okay. Okay."
He took a step back and bumped into a chair. The sound was a bit too loud in the small exam room. He grabbed the chair as if it could steady him.
Minseok moved like a storm contained in human form.
Heating pad. Towel. A clean blanket.
He wrapped the cat with brisk gentleness, layering warmth around its small body. The cat protested weakly at the touch, but the fight in it was fading with exhaustion.
Minseok drew fluids then leaned close while listening to the cat's chest.
Minhyung just stood there, useless. His eyes were fixed on the small rise and fall of fur.
Breathe.
Please.
Breathe.
Minseok straightened and reached for a thermometer.
His gaze flicked just once to Minhyung's face. To the bruise on his cheekbone.
The air in the room changed.
Minhyung's spine went rigid like a reflex.
Minseok's eyes held his for half a second longer than normal.
Then he looked away.
He didn't ask.
Not now.
Not while the cat was between them and was fighting for its life.
Minhyung's throat tightened anyway. Shame and relief tangled together until he couldn't tell them apart.
Minseok cleared his throat. "Where exactly did you find him?"
"By a dumpster," Minhyung answered with a small voice. "Near the convenience store by the rink. He was… he was barely moving."
Minseok made a sound under his breath. It was half a curse, and half a prayer. He finished checking the cat's temperature and muttered, "Jesus."
Minhyung's nails dug into the edge of the chair. "He tried to hiss at me."
"Good," Minseok said immediately.
Minhyung blinked and was kinda thrown back from the response.
Minseok glanced over with a fierce expression. "It means he still has some fight left."
Minhyung swallowed. "He looked at me like he hated me."
Minseok snorted once. "Yeah, well. If a human did this to me, I'd also hate humans."
Minhyung flinched. The words were hitting somewhere too close.
Minseok seemed to realize it a little later. His expression shifted to something that looks less sharp and a bit more careful. He didn't apologize. Minseok doesn't do apologies the way other people did. Instead, he shifted focus. "Okay. I'm going to give him pain meds. Then I need to stabilize his temperature. Then we'll do X-rays."
Minhyung nodded too fast, like agreeing could make the process faster. "Whatever you need."
Minseok pointed at him with a gloved finger. "Sit."
"I am sitting—"
"You're hovering," Minseok corrected. "Sit properly before you pass out and I have to treat two patients instead of one."
Minhyung's mouth opened.
Minseok arched a brow.
Minhyung sat.
The chair creaked under him. His legs felt suddenly heavy. The adrenaline that had carried him here had drained out and left him with only exhaustion and cold.
Minseok worked and Minhyung watched.
Time warped into small and sharp moments. Minseok's hands occasionally steadying the cat's leg. Seeing the cat's weak flinch. Minseok murmuring low reassurance. The heater clicking on. The rain tapping the windows like impatient fingers.
Minhyung's phone buzzed again.
He didn't move.
It buzzed again, and again, until it felt like an insect trapped under his skin.
Minseok's gaze flicked to Minhyung's pocket. "Answer it."
Minhyung's laugh came out strangled. "No."
Minseok's mouth tightened. "Then turn it off."
Minhyung hesitated and Minseok stared at him until the hesitation crumbled.
Minhyung pulled the phone out and stared at the screen.
There were more messages.
Why aren't you answering?
Are you with someone?
Minhyung.
Don't test me.
The words looked almost ridiculous under the clinic's warm light. Like they belonged to a different world. A world one with red carpets and cameras and fans and carefully curated public love.
Minhyung's thumb hovered.
He could answer. He could say 'I'm busy.' He could apologize. He could make the storm inside the messages calm down.
Or—
He swallowed. The bruise on his cheek kept throbbing.
He clicked his phone off.
The silence afterward was immediate and dizzying.
Minseok's shoulders loosened a fraction. Even he had been holding his breath. "Good."
Minhyung stared at his dark screen. His reflection stared back. Tired eyes, wet hair, and a bruise like a smear of shadow. He suddenly felt the full weight of where he was. What he'd done. He'd walked into a storm. Picked up something dying, and ran. Not because it made sense. It was because…
Because the cat had a look like him.
Minseok spoke without looking up. "You know, you're insane."
Minhyung's lips twitched weakly. "You're welcome."
Minseok snorted. "I'm serious. You could've gotten hurt."
Minhyung's laugh this time was almost real. "I was already hurt."
Minseok's hand paused and Minhyung immediately regretted the words. But Minseok didn't pounce on it. He didn't push. He only quietly said, "Still."
Minhyung swallowed.
Minseok resumed his work. His voice returned to brisk as if he'd decided not to let his worry show too much. "Okay. He's responding. The temperature's coming up slowly."
Minhyung's chest ached. "He's… he's alive?"
Minseok glanced over again. "Yes. For now."
For now.
Minhyung hated those words. They felt like a warning.
Minseok pulled the blanket higher around the cat's body and checked the IV line. "He needs somewhere warm and quiet to recover after tonight."
"I can—" Minhyung began automatically.
Minseok's gaze sharpened, already knowing what was coming. "No."
Minhyung blinked. "No?"
"I'm saying no because I know you." Minseok yanked open a drawer while rummaging. "You're going to do that thing where you take responsibility for everything in a five kilometer radius and then collapse. You don't even have time to take responsibility for your own body."
Minhyung's mouth tightened. "I do."
Minseok shot him a look that could've stripped paint. "Do you?"
Minhyung's throat worked. He didn't answer.
Minseok sighed. The sound was sharp with frustration that felt like caring. Then he said, "Also, my apartment is full."
Minhyung blinked again. "Full of what?"
"Animals," Minseok said like it was obvious. "I have three fosters right now. One rabbit with anxiety. Two cats that hate each other. And a dog that thinks my couch is his personal chew toy. If I bring home one more creature, my landlord is going to personally evict me."
Minhyung stared, horrified. "Why didn't you tell me you had that many?"
"Because you would've volunteered to take them too," Minseok replied immediately.
Minhyung opened his mouth to deny it, then stopped. He does everything to help a friend even if they're mostly selfless acts.
Minseok's eyes softened just a fraction. "Besides… he needs a calm environment."
Minhyung glanced at the cat.
The cat's eyes were closed now. Its lashes were resting against damp fur. The blanket was tucked around him like a cocoon. His chest rose and fell in small, stubborn breaths.
He looked… still. Like a thing the world had thrown away.
Minhyung's own chest tightened again. So painfully it felt like grief.
"I can keep him," Minhyung said, and it came out quiet. "Just for a while. Until… until someone claims him."
Minseok looked at him for a long moment. In that look, Minseok did a hundred calculations. Minhyung's schedule, his stamina, and the way he lies with a smile. The bruise he wouldn't explain. The way his phone had buzzed like a threat. Then Minseok exhaled. The fight leaving his shoulders like resignation.
"Fine," he said. "But you're listening to me."
"I will," Minhyung promised quickly.
Minseok raised a finger. "Rules."
Minhyung's eyes widened. "Rules?"
"Yes. Rules." Minseok ticked them off with gloved fingers. "You set him up in one room first. Safe space. Food, water, litter box. No forcing contact. You let him come to you."
Minhyung nodded rapidly, absorbing every word.
Minseok continued with a severe expression. "You do not give him milk."
Minhyung blinked. "I wasn't going to—"
Minseok pointed at him. "You look like someone who would."
Minhyung's lips twitched. "Okay."
"And you will bring him back for follow-up, because that leg is not optional," Minseok added. "He needs medicine that I will prescribe. Possibly splinting. Possibly surgery depending on the X-ray."
Minhyung swallowed with fear flickering. "How much—"
Minseok's eyes narrowed. "Don't you start. I'm not letting you spiral about money. We'll figure it out."
Minhyung's throat tightened. "Minseok—"
Minseok waved a hand like he couldn't stand sincerity for too long. "Shut up."
Minhyung's mouth trembled into a small, grateful smile anyway.
Minseok adjusted the blanket again, then glanced at Minhyung. "Also. Flyers."
"Flyers," Minhyung echoed automatically.
"We'll post around the area," Minseok said. "In case he's someone's lost pet."
Minhyung stared at the cat's battered body, and at the grime matted into once-white fur.
A lost pet.
Maybe.
Or maybe—
Maybe no one was looking.
The thought sat heavy in his stomach.
Minseok watched his face carefully. He could see exactly where Minhyung's mind wanted to go. "We'll check for a microchip once he's stable enough. If he has one, great. If he doesn't—"
Minhyung's voice came out barely above a whisper. "If he doesn't…?"
Minseok's gaze softened again, barely. "Then he's lucky you heard him."
Minhyung stared at the cat with a tight throat. He hadn't planned to say it. But the words slipped out anyway. The truth always did when you were too tired to hold it back.
"I heard him because he sounded like me."
Minseok went still.
Silence filled the exam room. It felt thick as fog. Minseok's eyes flicked to Minhyung's cheek. Then slowly, he pulled off one glove and tossed it into the trash. He walked over and flicked Minhyung's forehead. Not too hard. Just enough to annoy the tall man in front of him.
Minhyung blinked.
Minseok's voice was rough. "Don't say things like that."
Minhyung's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Minseok pointed at him again. "You're not a stray, Minhyung."
Minhyung's laugh came out thin. "You don't know that."
Minseok stared at him for a long moment. Anger and worry and something like heartbreak all tangled behind his eyes. Then, because Minseok was Minseok, he chose the only way he knew how to be gentle.
He turned back to the cat and said loudly, "Okay, little guy. Congrats. You just got adopted by the most stubborn idiot in Seoul."
Minhyung choked half a laugh, and half a sob. "Hey—"
Minseok held up a hand. "Don't argue. It's official now."
Minhyung wiped at his face quickly. Pretending it was rain and not emotion. "He's not even awake to agree."
Minseok's mouth twitched. "He'll agree when he's hungry."
Minhyung leaned forward in his chair. His eyes fixed on the cat. "He needs a name."
Minseok's brow lifted. "Already?"
Minhyung's lips pressed together. Then, softly, "I can't just call him 'cat.'"
Minseok sighed like he was surrendering to fate. "Fine. What are you thinking?"
Minhyung stared at the small bundle of fur and bruises. He thought of the alley. The dumpster. The winter-blue eyes staring up at him like he didn't trust the world.
He thought of how unfair it was, how familiar it felt.
Then, without thinking, without filtering, it slipped out.
"Geonwoo."
The name fell into the space between them like a pebble dropped into still water. It sounded small, quiet, and somehow heavy with meaning.
Minseok paused mid-motion.
Minhyung paused too, like he'd startled himself.
He stared at the cat. It was still bundled in warmth. Still trembling at the edges of sleep. The blue of his eyes when they opened was winter-sharp. It looked distrustful even in weakness. He looked like a creature that had been hurt and decided the world would never get a second chance for free.
He was strong.
Not the kind of strong that came from being untouchable. The kind that came from surviving anyway.
Minhyung swallowed. His voice came out softer, almost like he was afraid to break it. "Geonwoo."
Minseok blinked once, then slowly turned his head. "Geonwoo."
Minhyung nodded, as if he was confirming something to himself. "It means…" He hesitated. Sincerity creeping up his throat and making it hard to swallow. "Like—strong. Steady and brave. Something like that..?"
For a second, Minseok just stared at him. Then he made a sound that was half a laugh and half a scoff. He couldn't decide whether to be impressed or deeply offended on the cat's behalf.
"Pfft," Minseok said, shaking his head. "That's such a human name."
Minhyung blinked, thrown. "What—"
"I don't know," Minseok went on. His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile. "I genuinely thought you were going to name him something simple. Something tragic or cute." He tilted his head as if considering imaginary options. "Snow. Marshmallow. Cotton. Something that belongs on a sticker."
Minhyung's ears went hot.
"I would not—" he started, but the protest came out too quick and too defensive. Minseok's grin widened like he'd successfully set a trap.
Minseok pointed at him with a gloved finger. "You absolutely would."
Minhyung's mouth opened, then closed. He glanced away, suddenly very interested in the floor tiles. "I—okay. Maybe. But he doesn't look like a Snow."
Minseok hummed, looking amused. "He does look like he'd bite someone who called him Marshmallow."
Minhyung tried to hold his expression steady. Failed. The corner of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.
Minseok's eyes softened for just a fraction. The teasing was doing what it was meant to do. Pulling Minhyung back from the edge.
Minhyung cleared his throat. He was stubbornly returning to the point like he hadn't just been flustered. "Geonwoo suits him."
Minseok looked back at the cat, then at Minhyung, and something in his face eased. It was small, but it felt real.
"That's…" Minseok started, then cleared his throat like he didn't know what to do with warmth. "That's not terrible."
Minhyung let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The shy heat on his ears didn't go away, but his chest felt a little less tight. "High praise."
"Don't get used to it," Minseok said automatically, but the bite wasn't as sharp as before. He checked the IV line again and adjusted the blanket around the cat's small frame. "Okay, Geonwoo. You hear that? You've got a name now. Congratulations again."
Minhyung leaned forward in his chair. His eyes were once again fixed on the soft rise and fall of the cat's chest.
For a second, he imagined the name wrapping around him like armor. A promise. A protection Minhyung didn't know how to give anyone… least of all himself.
Minseok's voice pulled him back. "We'll stabilize him tonight, take images, and then you're taking him home with strict instructions."
Minhyung nodded, eyes still on the small bundled body. "Okay."
Minseok's tone sharpened again. He couldn't stand being soft for too long. "And you're texting Hwanjoong that you made it here alive before he drives his annoying ass around the city looking for you."
Minhyung blinked with guilt stabbing. "He—he doesn't—"
Minseok gave him a look. "Minhyungie."
Minhyung swallowed.
He pulled his phone out, hesitated, then typed quickly.
I'm at Minseok's clinic. I'm okay. Please don't come if you're planning to.
He stared at the message, then added, because honesty was suddenly easier than pretending.
I found a cat.
He hit send before he could overthink it. The reply came almost immediately.
Of course you did.
If you bring home a raccoon next I'm quitting.
Text me when you're ACTUALLY home.
Please eat something.
Minhyung's mouth softened. He stared at the screen for a second too long. Warmth was blooming somewhere under the exhaustion.
He tucked the phone away.
Minseok's voice cut through the moment. "Minhyungie."
Minhyung looked up.
Minseok's expression was carefully neutral, but his eyes were sharp. "If he has a chip, we contact the owner. No matter what, okay?"
Minhyung nodded. "Of course."
"And if he doesn't—" Minseok's gaze flicked briefly to Minhyung's bruise again, then back to the cat. "—then you foster. You don't 'save.' You don't martyr yourself. You foster. You give him a chance. You brought him here, he is absolutely going to be your responsibility."
Minhyung's throat tightened. "Okay."
Minseok held his gaze for a moment longer, like he wanted to say something else. Something bigger. Something about Minhyung's own chance.
But he didn't.
Instead, he turned back to Geonwoo. His voice was gentler as he adjusted the blanket one more time.
"Hang in there, Geonwoo," Minseok murmured. "You've got a stubborn idiot waiting for you."
Minhyung's eyes burned. He blinked hard and leaned forward. He began reaching out with one hesitant finger. He didn't touch Geonwoo directly. Just the edge of the blanket and started smoothing it down.
"Yeah," Minhyung whispered. "Hang in there."
Geonwoo's chest rose.
Fell. Rose again.
Still here.
Minhyung sat back slowly. Hands clenched tight in his lap. He watched him breathe like it was the only thing holding the world together.
Outside, the rain kept throwing itself at the windows.
Inside, for the first time all night, Minhyung felt like maybe… just maybe, something had made it through the storm.