“I see you like pretty things.”

You started in surprise, but relaxed to see the owner of the antique shop smiling down at you, dark eyes twinkling behind round wire-rimmed glasses.  He wasn’t a tall man, but you could see that--under his pristine white cotton button down, and chocolate suspenders--he was a substantial piece of real estate.  The tailored tan trousers were perfectly creased, and his feet were encased with oxblood oxfords polished to an unearthly high shine.  Looking back up, you found him looking down at you in amusement as if he could read your approval.  Playfully, you shrugged.  “Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, not everyone,” he murmured.  “Nowadays it seems as if, aside from clothing, people have forgotten form for function.  Which, while efficient, is also quite efficiently depressing.”

Nodding, you returned his smile with a rueful one of your own.  “I’ve often felt that way, myself.”

“I’ve noticed you here often, in front of my shop window.”  When you looked askance, he shrugged.  “By the time you come by in the evenings, it’s either slow, or we’ve just closed, and I don’t have much to do other than people watch.  Do you know antiques?”

“Not really,” you admitted.  “I have a little knowledge, but I’m not an aficionado.  I just like--”

“Pretty things,” he chuckled warmly.

“Well, yes, but I especially enjoy looking at your displays.  I know it sounds silly, but I like to create stories for them.”

His expression warmed even more, if possible.  “No, that’s exactly what I want!  I create each display to tell a story.  I was actually an art major, but I inherited this shop from my father, and well,” he looked down bashfully, his cheeks plumping with an endearing smile, “here we are.”  A stray gust of wind blew past, setting your hair afloat, and obscuring your face, but before you could set it to rights, he had reached up and gently, carefully, brushed it back down.  When you looked up at him in astonishment, he just smiled shyly.  “I’m sorry, I just...since I see you so often, I feel like I know you…”

“Ah.  Yes…” you answered, feeling awkward. 

The street lights blinked on, and he looked up at them in alarm.  Clearing his throat, he stood a bit straighter.  “Listen, I don’t want to keep you, you should get home, but, I was just wondering...would you mind if I took you to dinner sometime?”

Your mind flew to Minseok, and you opened your mouth to turn him down, before slowly closing it.  Why was your first instinct to reject him?  You and Minseok weren’t dating.  In fact, since he had moved in, he had been nothing but an absolute gentleman--if occasionally cheeky--although sometimes you wished…

But no, he had never indicated that he wanted your relationship to be anything other than what it was, and you weren’t about to burden him with the weight of unwanted desire.  You never wanted to be one of those people who thought that the hybrid in their lives was supposed to be at their ual beck and call.  Eyeing the man in front of you, you felt conflicted.  He was handsome enough--charming--and seemed to share at least one of your interests, but something inside still felt...disloyal at the thought of even flirting with another man.  Then again, it was silly to act as if Minseok had some sort of claim over you, when he had never indicated that he wanted anything romantic.  

Meanwhile, you had taken so long to internally monologue that the man nodded with a rueful smile, his thick black eyebrows knitting in apparent self recrimination as he took a step back.  Chuckling awkwardly, he lifted a hand to brush back his hair from his forehead.  “Ah, I’m sorry.  I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all,” you answered quickly, with a warm smile.  “I was just thinking…” you searched for a likely story.  “I don’t even know your name.”

He laughed self-consciously, his eyes turning into appealing crescent moons, a charming set of shallow dimples bracketing the sides of his mouth.  “Aish, where is my mind--I’m so sorry.  It’s just...I see you so often, that it almost feels like I know you.  Please forgive my lack of manners and allow me to introduce myself.”  He bowed charmingly.

“My name is Kim Junmyeon.”

***

Minseok greeted you at the door with a sparkling smile that dropped before you made it three feet into the apartment.  He frowned, ears flattening.  “What is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That smell.”

You smelled under your arms, then pulled your hair across your face.  “I don’t know…  They were doing asphalt patching on the roads.  Is it tar?”

He frowned, circling.  “Anything interesting happen at work today?”

“No...it was just normal.”

“What about the way home?”

You thought for a moment, and then brightened.  “Oh, yes, I met this guy--he was really nice!  He runs the antique shop!”

“Nice,” he repeated, voice flat as he stopped.

“Yes?” you answered, noticing his affect.  “Why, what’s wrong?”

Minseok smiled, but it was tight.  “Nothing,” he answered shortly.  “I just...don’t think that I like his cologne.  Smells cheap.”

“Oh, really?”  You fidgeted awkwardly.  “Should I shower?”

“Could you?”  He smiled.  “I’d really appreciate it.  Sensitive nose, and all.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”  He looked at you expectantly.

Feeling self-conscious, you headed to the bathroom to take your shower.  As soon as you were out and in your pajamas, Minseok was like a different person, cuddling next to you on the couch, before laying his head in your lap.  

“You’ve had a long day.  Should I order something for dinner?  My treat.”  His eyes sparkled up at you.

“Sure,” you said a bit surprised, but gratified to not have to make dinner.  

“Pet me,” he said absentmindedly as he scrolled through restaurant choices on his phone.

Now this was your favourite thing to do.  Burying a hand in his thick, shaggy black hair, you scratched around his ears, massaged his scalp.  It didn’t take long for his rumbling purrs to tell you just how much he liked it.  Sighing, he relaxed into the couch, going almost boneless as his eyes went to half mast.  “Are you falling asleep?” you teased.  

“Maybe,” he grinned.  

“Stay awake, or I’ll take your phone and order everything!”

“You keep scratching my head like that, and I’ll give you everything.”  

“Aigoo, promises, promises.”

***

For the first time since you had met him, Minseok was in a bad mood.  For some reason, he had been a bit out of sorts since you had met Junmyeon, and you think that you knew why.  You had read up on hybrid behaviour, and you figured that, as a man, he was feeling a bit territorial.  It was the night of your date, and all week, you had been wracking your brain for ways to assure Minseok that he would always have a place with you--regardless of whether you were in a relationship--but he seemed to brush off all of your attempts.  Currently, he was glaring at you over the back of the couch as you ran to and fro, trying to put the finishing touches on your date outfit.  While you were looking forward to your date with Junmyeon, you were already planning a nice dinner for Minseok, to keep him from feeling emotionally abandoned and thus, were a bit absentminded as you flitted here and there--first for earrings, then for your good purse, then for your fancy watch…  Finally, you stood in front of Minseok, holding your hands to your sides in display.  “How do I look?”

“Incredible,” he said begrudgingly.  

“Oh, don’t pout!” you cooed, walking forward, catching him by the chin and lightly squeezing.  “I’ll bring you back something delicious!”  

Quick as lightning, he grabbed your wrist, and pulled you closer, staring up into your eyes.  

Your heart began to pound as his eyes flickered down, but then your phone chimed and you realized that Junmyeon was already there.  With a soft little oh! you pulled yourself free, and headed to the door to slip into your shoes.  “Text me if there’s anything that you want in particular--I’ll bring it back.”

He muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Don’t bother.  I’m not hungry,” he huffed, flopping down on the couch, facing away from you.  

Uncertainly, you hovered in the doorway.  “Is it your tummy again?  Do you want me to give you medicine?”

“Goodnight,” he sing-songed, rather passive-aggressively, you thought.  

“I’ll be back in a bit,” you promised.  “I won’t stay out late.”

You lied.

Junmyeon was funny--really funny--and witty, gentlemanly, kind, well-travelled, intelligent...  He took you to a Japanese restaurant, and kept your attention all night, regaling you with stories of his life as an antique shop owner, and the cast of characters that he dealt with on a regular basis.  Looking over the menu as you both prepared for your third round of sushi, something seemed to catch his eye.  “Have you ever had plum wine?”

“No?  I don’t really drink wine that much.”

“Would you like to try it?”

“What’s it like?”

“Sweet.  Fruity.  Aromatic.”

“Sure, that sounds interesting.”

Lifting a hand to flag the waiter, he leaned forward, giving you a conspiratorial grin.  “I do have to warn you, it is a bit strong.”

“Really?” you said, raising your eyebrows.  “Well, even though I don’t drink much wine, I’ve never had any problem holding my liquor.  I’m sure that I can take it.”

You could not take it.

Underestimating the sweet wine, you drank it quickly, and the punch it packed hit you just as quickly.  Ever the consummate gentleman, recognizing your somewhat alarming level of inebriation, Junmyeon brought the long evening to a close, paying the bill, and walking you home.  You stumbled into your apartment, now quite unsteady on your high heels, and gracelessly flopped down onto the polished wood floor as you puzzled out the riddle that was the straps of your shoes.   

“Kitten?”

A quietly mumbled word brought your attention to where Minseok stood silhouetted in your bedroom doorway, looking soft and rumpled.  

“Oppa!” you squealed in delight!  “Why are you so cute?”

There was a pause.  Then, in a slightly more awake tone, “Are you drunk?”

“Plum wine!” you affirmed.  “Have you ever had it?  It’s delicious!  It tastes...sweet.”  

Minseok started forward only to stop within several feet of you, his ears flattening as he took a step back.  “You smell like him.”  He narrowed his eyes, his pupils slitting.  “He’s all over you, did you know that?”  

Frowning, you shrugged.  “I think that he smells nice.”

“I don’t like it,” he hissed.

Sighing long-sufferingly, you finished tugging off your shoes.  “It’s fine--it’s fine--I’ll just go take another shower.”

“Don’t bother,” he growled, bending down and neatly tossing you over his shoulder.  

You squawked indignantly, but then the blood rushed to your head, and you began to giggle.  “What are you doing,” you laughed, breathless, kicking your feet in token protest.  “Put me down…”  

He did.

The world tilted as you were rudely dropped on your bed, and--bouncing--continued to laugh.  Minseok stood, shoulders squared, glaring down as you continued to laugh as if this entire situation were the funniest thing in the world.  You stopped laughing when he pounced, hands tightly gripping your waist as he proceeded to aggressively nuzzle your neck, your cheeks, and your chest, before brushing his hands lightly down your arms.  The softness of his ears flickered under your chin, against your throat, as he scented almost every inch of skin exposed by your bright sleeveless sundress, his heated, heavy body dragging against yours.  Within moments of this sudden onslaught, your stomach tightened, and your head was spinning for a different reason.  

Between one breath and the next, Minseok paused, nose buried just behind your ear, mouth hovering over the side of your neck, every exhale of his warm breath tickling the hairs on your nape.  His grip slowly tightened even more, and you let out a soft whimper in response.  Your body brushed against his with every inhale, and you realized that you were both inexplicably panting.  

“Kitten,” he groaned, drawing it out almost as if he were in pain.

“Oppa?”   

He stiffened, before quietly groaning under his breath.  “Alcohol smell…”  Burying his nose in your neck, he shuddered, lying there for several moments before heaving himself off of you and onto his back.  “Aish,” he muttered, rubbing a hand roughly over his face.  

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckled ruefully.  “Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know…”  And you didn’t.  You could just sense that something was wrong, and felt an inexplicable sense of guilt as well as a need to ensure that he wasn’t angry at you.  

“Don’t be sorry,” he sighed.  “Go to sleep.”  Grumbling, he climbed out of your bed.  

“Where are you going?”  Feeling unsure, you tried to modulate your tone to hide your uncertainty.  

“It’s late.  I’m going to shower and get ready for bed.”

“But weren’t you already sleeping when I came in?  You’re already wearing your pajam--”

“Go to sleep, kitten,” he muttered, before stalking to the bathroom, and very quietly, very carefully closing the door.

You lay there, suddenly feeling very sober, very hungry for something that you couldn’t explain, very cold, and very unsatisfied.

***

“Oppa!” The next day found you possessed with a mysterious cleaning frenzy.

“Mm?” he called from the other room.

“Have you seen my dojang?”

He appeared in the bedroom doorway.  “Hm?”

“My dojang.  Have you seen it?”

“Not lately…  Why?”

“I decided to finally clean out my junk drawers, and I found this old inkpad.  I’m going to throw it away if it doesn’t work properly.”

“I’m sorry, kitten.”

“Eh, it’s okay.  I’ll test it with my thumb.”

***

You came home to the scent of dakdoritang in the air, and strangers in your home.  Well, relative strangers. 

“Well, hello!”  The tiny Bengal hybrid from across the hall--who had been draped over your furniture as comfortably as if she owned it--slinked off the couch and over to you, long tail slowly swishing.  She was even smaller up close, barely coming to your nose, but the way her leggings and crop top clung to her body left you in no doubt as to her maturity. A narrow black leather collar rested against the base of her neck, a pink opal heart half the size of your thumb nestling in the hollow of .  Nonplussed, you stood there as she glided over--slowly circling you, gently touching here and there, before standing on tiptoe her face inches away from yours, large ears flickering.

Suddenly a wide, mischievous grin broke over her face and, stepping back, she bowed.  “Hello, my name is Ahin.  It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”  Turning,  she called to stranger #2--Do Kkaebi?  Do Kkaenip?  ”Yeobo!  Come introduce yourself!”  

The quiet neighbour from across the way, who viewed the world wide-eyed from behind black horn rims, turned, looking first at Ahin then at you, his eyes--what else--widening as he put down his spatula before approaching, all polite bows, and surprisingly deep greetings.  Ah.  Do Kyungsoo.

You accepted their attention politely, but in some bewilderment until you saw Minseok emerge from where he had been standing by the stove in the kitchen, looking soft in a pristine white hoodie.  Well, he did look soft, until your eyes dropped a bit more to find his jeans so ripped and so tight that they left little to the imagination.  His thighs rippled hypnotically as he advanced.  

You swallowed.  

“Kitten,” Minseok gently reproved, “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?”

Disconcerted, you realized that you had been silent the entire time, and you bowed again to the couple, quickly murmuring your name, and something vague about the pleasure of making their acquaintance, before looking at Minseok askance.  You were a friendly person.  Or, at least you liked to think so.  But coming home to find virtual strangers in your home was a bit off-putting.

“I invited Kyungsoo over to teach me how to make a nice dinner for you.  He’s a chef.”

Surprised, you tilted your head.  “Oh, really?  Wow...  What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion,” he answered easily.  “I just figure...you’re always feeding me…  It’s only fair for me to do the same.”

“But oppa,” you said gently, “you only know how to make ramen.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know the difference between seasoned salt and coarse salt.”

“I know, I know…”

“You didn’t know that you had to wash the lettuce and we had to eat gritty--”

“Alright, I said I know, that’s why I’m trying to learn, aish!” he exploded, looking you up and down in exasperation.  

Ineffectually hiding a smile, you patted him on the arm.  “Very thoughtful.”

Smiling shyly, Kyungsoo gestured toward the kitchen.  “I had better go check on the chicken.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered.  “I’ve always wanted to learn how to make dakdoritang.”

“Then, Minseoksshi can stay with me!’ Ahin piped up, stepping forward to wrap her arms around one of Minseok’s, and nestle into his side.  

You didn’t like that.  

Seemingly oblivious, Kyungsoo had already left for the kitchen, his body almost a dark blur in a black hoodie and sweatpants, and charcoal baseball cap. Ahin was already tugging Minseok toward the couch, curling up next to him as soon as he sat, resting her head against his shoulder as she gently scented him.  An uncomfortable feeling arose in your belly, but you pushed it down and followed Kyungsoo into the kitchen.  

Dinner was...interesting.  It was delicious to say the least--Kyungsoo very much deserved his title--but after the first few bites, the rest tasted like cardboard.  As everyone headed to the table, Ahin pulled Minseok to sit next to her, and spent the majority of the meal feeding him choice tidbits, and gently brushing her hands over his hair, his shoulders--the backs of her fingers over his cheeks, his neck.  Now, you knew that the majority of hybrids were far more tactile than the rest of the human population, and that cat hybrids were among the most tactile of all.  That being said…

You kind of wanted to squish her pretty little face with a pillow.  Graceful doe eyes, elegant eyebrows, flawless golden skin, almost impossibly thick black waving hair--every feature seemed crafted to make you jealous.  As much as you tried to tell yourself that it was just hybrid nature, that she was happily married, that you had no claim to Minseok and therefore no right to be jealous--screw that, you wanted to hold her head under the nearest body of water until she stopped struggling.  For his part, Kyungsoo sat there eating, easily holding up his end of the conversation, seemingly unconcerned until...well…