Deadlines are the only reason Jongin gets anything done.

That pounding pressure.

The rush of constant anxiety.

Pushing passed the point of sleepiness and exhaustion until he’s fully awake again.

The relief when it’s all over and submitted and out of his hands.

Sometimes, Jongin works until he falls asleep. He’ll slowly lean closer and closer to his desktop until he’s nearly nose-to-paper. When he realizes it and sits up, he feels the strain in his neck and spine. Inevitably, hours have gone by, yet he feels like he’s accomplished nothing.

If he doesn’t have a set deadline, enforced by emails and texts asking when he’ll be done, Jongin will laze about his apartment, reading or doodling. Maybe trying a painting technique he saw online. Sometimes, he’ll take his cat for a walk or at least take him outside, so he can climb some trees and explore.

It’s been nice out, lately. The heavy rains have passed, and people are out enjoying the sunshine through big, fluffy clouds. He’s been hearing a neighbor cat yowling, though. Probably in heat. Honey isn’t fixed, and as cute as his babies would be, Jongin doesn’t have the time to raise a clowder or the money for child support. He likes it just being the two of them, anyway.

Honey’s been his companion, his shadow, for so long that not feeling the ghost of a tail up his calf or the tickle of a whisker across his fingers is unsettling. Like something is missing or, more likely, something is going to happen. Like the time Honey had gotten himself locked outside and, rather than going to a window or the front of their building, he decided to cross the neighborhood and find Jongin’s ex, who was confused but kind enough to return Honey. It was only a little bit awkward.

Now, pushing one in the morning, his eyes are burning behind his glasses, and he regrets moving his desk into his bedroom. It was the only room with a door to keep Honey out, though. His cat is a distraction.

Jongin pushes the heels of his palms into his eyes. There’s a migraine starting, again. He doesn’t want to stop working when he’s finally making progress, but his eyes hurt.

Maybe it’ll go away after a soda. Sometimes the caffeine helps. He doesn’t want to have to leave to get headache pills; he’ll look like a miserable drunk with his squinted eyes and pinched frown.

The journey from his bedroom to the kitchen is excruciating. He keeps his eyes closed and follows the wall with his hands. He falls against the bathroom door, which he doesn’t remember closing but is grateful to, or he’d collapse right onto the linoleum.

Green numbers glare through the darkness, reminding him of time ticking away. Even the light of the refrigerator hurts. He shuts it fast and goes to the sink for a glass when the hairs on his arms rise.

A floorboard squeaks behind him.

The can falls from his hand into the sink, startling him and the person who touched his shoulder.

“Geez, way to overreact.” It’s not a voice Jongin recognizes, low and soft with a hint of a laugh.

“Who are you?”

The person sighs, frustrated or impatient. “Can I turn a light on? I can’t see anything like this.” When Jongin doesn’t say anything, they add, “I’m not going to do anything, Jongin.” They speak comfortably. Jongin can’t think of why, but he’s got a knife on hand, now, so he’s pretty sure he can defend himself.

“Hang on a second…” He slides around the stranger, following the counters, until his feet touch the edge of his living room rug. Hand reached out, he feels for a table lamp and flips it on. It hurts, but it hurts less than dying, he reasons.

The stranger is a man, tall and broad-shouldered with black hair. Jongin recognizes the pajamas he’s wearing as ones Jongin hasn’t put away, yet, after washing them. He squints in the low light and feels his temples throb.

“Who are you?”

The stranger frowns a little and looks down and himself. “I guess you really can’t recognize me like this…”

“What’s your name?”

“Please don’t make me say it.” Mumbling, he adds, “It’s really embarrassing.” At Jongin’s frown, the man seems to deflate. He turns his head and mutters, “It’s Honey.”

“Honey?!” They both flinch at his falsetto, but it’s warranted. Honey is his beautiful, athletic, whiny rescue cat. Jongin never changed the name he adopted the cat with, because he wasn’t sure if it would confuse him or not. Plus, he doesn’t usually even say the name, defaulting to cute pet names or just making kissy sounds until the cat shows up. He’s been a constant companion for four years. His gorgeous Honey is this...gorgeous...man. “What happened to you?”

The man shrugs. “Time’s up. I’m normal again.”

“What do you mean, ‘normal’?”

“I wasn’t born a cat. I was…” He pauses, eyes bouncing around the room to find the right word. “Cursed.”

Jongin nods with a soft oh.

The man-cat narrows his eyes. “You’re taking this awfully well.”

“Magic isn’t so uncommon. Plus, there’s a chance I could be dreaming.” It’s a good chance, too. He’s been exhausted since starting this comic project. When he’s not working on storyboards or eating, he’s been sleeping.

If this is a dream, he hopes he remembers it, because it could make a cute story. He doesn’t have the most plentiful free time to draw it, but it’s still a good idea.

He recalls his soda in the sink, probably too excited and fizzy to open. He pushes it to the back of the refrigerator and grabs a different can. He pries the tab with the end of the knife—a very terrifying butterknife—and it opens without incident, and he drops a straw into it, forgoing a glass.

“So. What now?”

Jongin blinks. “Huh?” he asks eloquently.

“We’ve established I’m your cat. Or you’re dreaming that your cat’s become a tall, handsome stranger. But we’ve been living together for, like, four years. Is that still cool, or…”

Now is when four years of memories flood Jongin’s mind, playing back like a highlights reel in his mind’s eye. Breakups, hookups, getting hired and fired, crying over dramas and comedies, dancing with his cat in his arms, meandering the apartment in his comfy and worn pajamas or underwear with holes where there should be none or even less…

“Before you freak out and overthink—just...don’t.” The man formerly known as Honey the cat scratches his nose, looking at the refrigerator. “What I thought as a cat and as a person are the same; I really don’t care what you do, as long as you’re happy or will be.”

That’s kind of like a confession, right? Kinda, sorta. Whatever it is, it makes Jongin blush from his hairline to his neck.

The moment is broken by the shrill beeping of his phone. He sets alarms so he doesn’t take too long of a break. His head still hurts.

“I gotta go back to work.” He bites a nail. The man looks trustworthy enough; he has his hands in the pockets of the borrowed pants, making fists and lightly bouncing them against his thighs. “Make yourself comfortable, I guess. I’m not going to throw you out or anything.” It’s night. That’d be really mean. “You have a name other than Honey?”

“Sehun.”

“Okay, Sehun-ssi. Just...don’t break anything or whatever. Take what you want from the fridge, if you’re hungry.”

“It’s alright, Jongin. I know your house rules. Go back to work before another alarm goes off.” He makes a face. “They’re really annoying.”

Jongin nods, returns to his room, and tries to focus on his drawings. He sets his soda on the bookshelf nearby, cleans his glasses on his T-shirt, and picks up a pockmarked pencil.

After a while, something feels strange, and he looks behind him to find Sehun sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, scrolling through Jongin’s phone.

“Um…”

Sehun looks up, notices the attention, and scoots to throw his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m sorry. Is this too weird?”

He can’t say no, because it is, but it must also weird for Sehun. He’s been Jongin’s house pet for years. Jongin talked to him all those years like he was a person, unaware that he really was a person. Now that he’s person-shaped and has the ability to hold a conversation and take up so much space…

Jongin doesn’t know what to do.

The whole reason for adopting a cat was companionship, because dogs aren’t allowed in his building, and he doesn’t really have time for a social life, with how busy his schedule is. Even if he had ample time and opportunity, he’s never liked groups, preferring more intimate company of a friend or two most of the time.

It’s too much to think about. The caffeine hasn’t kicked in; his eyes are throbbing to the beats of his heart.

Jongin puts his glasses down and yawns wide and lets his arms drop to his sides. He’s tired. He’s confused. There’s no way he’s getting anything more done.

Habit has him shuffling to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and he sheds his shirt and pants as he returns to his room. Sehun’s watching him with wide-eyed wonder, and a bit of wariness, and he quickly grabs onto the blankets when Jongin falls face-first onto the mattress, making them bounce.

“Too tired to think,” Jongin mumbles. He cracks a bleary eye open and finds Sehun. “Sleep with me if you want. I really don’t care right now.”

“You kick in your sleep,” Sehun comments softly. He turns off the lights, though, and sits beside Jongin, who rolls onto his back. As usual, he kicks the blankets down enough to have only one leg covered. Any other way, and he gets too hot.

He feels Sehun moving, slipping down to lie on his back, then shifting to his side. He’s on his belly, moving to his opposite side, when Jongin puts his hand on the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “but you’re being annoying.” Sehun’s hair is soft over his fingertips. Not as soft as Honey’s fur, but still silky and pleasant to touch. Jongin doesn’t think of anything as his fingers spread and gently squeeze over the vertebrae of Sehun’s neck, and Sehun relaxes with a heavy sigh.

There’s an annoyed voice telling Jongin he doesn’t have time to cuddle and should finish his project, but it’s small and far away and easy to ignore.

When Jongin rolls over in the morning, he doesn’t immediately remember his changed guest. Usually, Honey starts out at the foot of the bed and then makes his way up to the pillows, and Jongin will wake up to a faceful of fur and deep purrs. Sometimes, the cat’s up and eagerly watching birds and people outside, chattering.

Today, he’s not even in the room. Jongin opens his eyes and stares at a sunbeam on his ceiling. Translucent dust motes float like jellyfish in the current.

What’s strange is Honey isn’t demanding food the moment he knows Jongin’s awake. In the room or not, he seems able to sense it.

Out of habit, he calls for his cat. “Honey?” Kicking his discarded jeans out of the way, Jongin shuffles out of his room with his arms over his head in a stretch. His hands catch the top of the doorframe, and he pulls almost to pain, but he feels more awake. “Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

Sehun is at the breakfast bar of the kitchen counter, a glass of milk in one hand and muffin in the other, wearing another borrowed outfit. Jongin squints at him, and he raises his glass. “Morning. I bought breakfast.”

He’d ask With what money?, but his wallet and keys are on the counter instead of in his room.

“I didn’t know you’d left,” he mumbles, pawing through the muffins.

“I went early and figured I’d be back before you woke up.I wanted to see someone as soon as I could.” Sehun picks out Jongin’s favorite and presents it to his scrutiny. “The son of a witch who’d cursed me.”

“Oh…”

“He’s still in the same stupid little shop, grumpy as ever.” Sehun shreds his muffin over a napkin, squishing bits and pieces between his fingers. “He wasn’t even surprised to see me! Or sorry!”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“It’s like he’d forgotten all about me, the jerk.” He pouts at the mess of muffin, and Jongin remembers how Honey would sometimes look at his dry kibble the same way, when Jongin had run out of canned food to mix it with. “Someone should curse him. See how he likes it…”

“I’d volunteer, but, like i said last night,” Jongin yawns, stuffing half a muffin into his mouth, “ah gunno mafick.” He doesn’t mean to spew crumbs. They fall down to his bare chest and bounce to the floor. He needs to vacuum. There are dark tumbleweeds of cat fur trapped under the legs of the stools. “Could I meet this guy?” he asks.

Sehun flicks a larger crumb from the counter and shrugs. “I guess. He sees customers whenever they come. Why, though?”

“Curiosity. I don’t think I’ve met a witch before. Could make a good story.”

“Or, he could just curse you for the hell of it.”

Jongin shrugs. “I’m cool with living as a cat for a while.” Sleep all day, eat when he wants, and he’s pretty trainable, so he could totally learn to poop in a box.

“It helps when you’ve got someone nice to look after you.” Sehun drains his glass, his upper lip.

“What, you wouldn’t keep me, if I got turned into a cat?”

“I dunno.” He props his elbow on the countertop and props his chin on his hand. “I’ve always been more partial to dogs. You’d be a pretty cat, at least. Points for that.”

With a scoff, Jongin wipes his mouth, brushes more crumbs off himself, and looks at the twin ceramic bowls on the floor. Wordlessly, he picks them up and dumbs their contents, piling them in the sink. He’ll have to clean out the litter box later and pick up the various feathered toys he accumulated for Honey’s entertainment.

He misses his cat.

“I’ve gotta finish this project within the week,” he says. “Then you can introduce me to this witch. Stay until then, at least. Who knows? Maybe there’s some magical lawsuit, and you can sue him for undue stress and get money you would’ve earned at a job over four years.”

Sehun’s eyebrows rise. He seems to consider the idea. Frowning, then, he asks, “What am I supposed to do while you’re working?”

Jongin walks backwards to his bedroom and shrugs. “Whatever you want, I guess. You obviously know where my keys are, TV, books… You were a good cat, Sehun. I’m sure you can keep out of trouble as a person.” Although, he did manage to get himself cursed, so maybe not.

He pulls on a shirt and comfy shorts and puts on headphones with a gentle chillhop playlist. Lighting in his room is good in the morning, at least, giving his colors extra richness.

A text from his boss flashes on his phone screen, asking for another update. Jongin ignores it, but he sees something else from the corner of his eye.

Sehun’s stretched out across his bed in the warm sunbeam, like Honey always enjoyed after breakfast. He faces away from the light, and his hair looks even more glossy under the sun.

He knows he shouldn’t. There’s a good reason he started working in his room. Jongin can’t help but to grab his personal sketchbook and turn around in his seat. Most of the beginning pages are doodles of Honey—sleeping, eating, stretching, grooming, playing.

Jongin flips to a clean sheet and draws Sehun’s relaxed pose. He sketches out the creases in the soles of his bare feet, the curl of his fingers, the lines of his where his borrowed shirt has ridden up.

His heart pounds in his ears; blood rushes to his cheeks as he observes Sehun more closely in the daylight.

Deadlines are the only reason Jongin gets anything done, but he roughs out an idea about the easy romance between a couple who’ve lived together in some capacity and how things change—or don’t—when one of them changes.

a/n: Written for EXOSANGEL as part of PROJECT 94 Round 1. (prompt: Person A didn't expect his pet cat to suddenly morph into a human, neither did he expect to fall in love with Person B but fate has its twisted ways.

Imagine Sehun the Savannah cat with black smoke fur. （*´▽｀*）

This is also probably my fourth or fifth cat-turned human/human-turned-cat fic. I love them so much but can't seem to make them all that different from one another... I should work on that. I just had fun with this fic. Something simple and easy and unproblematic.