Kris has no idea what he’s doing here. He’s not even sure these things are big enough.

“Excuse me,” comes a voice that is in no way threatening, but Kris jumps ten feet in the air regardless. He’s been on edge ever since that morning when he woke up to find cat boy sleeping on the floor next to his bed, making cute little sleepy noises into his arms. It’s Kris’ fault for forgetting to lock his bedroom door after cleaning up the messes in his apartment, along with patching up cat boy and then sitting with him for over an hour, frozen by his own fears and wants.

Now it’s lunchtime and Kris is supposed to be getting food for Chanyeol and the other people (What, have they suddenly killed all of their interns? Kris is too damn high in rank for this), but instead he’s in a small petshop looking at collars.

“Sir? Do you need any help?”

Kris looks over his shoulder. “Oh,” he says. She looks like his grandmother, tiny and homely, and at the sight of her Kris feels heat in his ears. Thank god this grandma can’t read his thoughts of he’d be in bigger trouble than he feels he’s in. “Umm... I’m looking for a... collar. With a bell.” Cat boy is not sneaking up on him again, not after the last heart attack.

“A cat collar?” The grandma points to the display of cat accessories they’re standing in front of. She’s going to pick up a small red one when Kris stops her.

“Um.” God, this is embarrassing. Cat boy is as big as a human and Kris is in a petshop. But where the hell is he supposed to get human-sized collars? At a human-sized petshop? Is that even legal? “He’s a... very big cat. Very big.”

“Oh.” The red collar falls back to the cat accessories display. “Perhaps you would like another collar for him then?” She looks harmless, like she would rather hug Kris than ever kick him in the crotch. Curly gray hair falls into her forehead and her bifocals make her glasses look too big for her face, given her the appearance similar to a grandma cartoon than an actual person.

Relax, he tells himself. There’s no way this grandma can inherently know he has a cat boy in his apartment right at this second and he might want to touch it. A lot.

He lets the grandma lead him to another display with collars, ones for dogs Kris thinks. A pink one catches his eye. “Bad kitty?” he reads off the collar, taking it off the rack. It’s huge and sturdy, like something a zoo animal would wear, and Kris holds it as he speaks. “What’s this for?”

“That,” the grandma laughs. “That was a mistake on an order I made. It was supposed to be much smaller but I guess I filled out the form wrong and they send me a collar that’s too big for any little house cat.”

“I’ll take it.”

“What?” Grandma’s eyes widen. “But it’s too big for a house cat.”

That’s the idea. “How much? Oh and I’ll need a little...” He flickers the loop on the front of the chain. “A bell or something. I don’t want him...” He pauses, cheeks suddenly read. It’s okay. Animals have genders. This doesn’t give anything away. “I don’t want to be sneaked up on.”

The grandma frowns, confused. Kris creates excuses for this collar, in case she asks, but in the end, she rings him up and sends him off with a smile.

Then Kris remembers. “Also I’d like some... cat food.” At least he thinks that’s what alien cat boys eat, right? Unless their diet is comprised of things not from planet Earth. That would make a lot of sense, only there isn’t too much on Mars so cat boy will have to deal.

The grandma adds cat food to his bag, “Have a nice day!”

As Kris exits the door, the large cockatoo by the door screeches when he gets a little too close, flapping its milky white wings against its cage.

“Don’t do that,” chastises the grandma. “There isn’t a cat nearby. Don’t be afraid.”

Kris will deny ever running home on that day.





“Hey,” Kris pokes his head into the guest bedroom. He had come home not too long ago and he hasn’t seen cat boy since the morning. He hasn’t even wandered out of his room when Kris had come home.

Cat boy lies in the center of the bed, curled up on himself. He picks his head up when he sees Kris, his tail swishing back and forth, but when Kris doesn’t move, he lowers his head back down, still watching him.

“You have to be hungry,” says Kris, feeling a little guilty he hadn’t thought about cat boy’s food too much. Kris hardly remembers to feed himself and now he has another mouth to look after. He opens the cat food, it seriously reeks, and brings it back into the guest room. “Here,” he says.

Cat boy picks up his head again, sniffing the air. He steps down from the bed, limping on his bandaged foot, and follows his nose to the tin of cat food in Kris’ hand. Kris tips the tin a little, letting cat boy at the liquid on top of the “seafood medley” pinkish lump of food. Cat boy recoils, face twisting, and he coughs, spitting up on himself.

He gives Kris a betrayed look.

“What? You’re a cat! I thought you would like cat food!” Shame lingers on the back of Kris’ neck. Cat boy. He must have a human digestive tract. He wants “human” food.

Ignoring how terribly bad he’s been about this pet thing, Kris opens his buffet carton (he really needs to learn how to cook) and offers some to cat boy.

Cat boy sniffs its contents, he seems especially curious by all the banchan. He looks up to Kris through his black bangs and then carefully lifts a hand to pluck a piece of radish out of the carton. Kris watches him chew it, first with care and then with fervor once the taste hits the back of his tongue, and then cat boy eats more of it, Kris still holding onto the carton. In no time at all, the carton is completely empty and rich sticks to cat boy’s soft cheeks.

“Messy.” Kris brushes away the rice, touching his fingers a little too close to cat boy’s mouth. Warm skin, so inviting, and plush lips are only centimeters away from Kris’ face.

Cat boy freezes, dropping his eyes to Kris’ long fingers, and then he pushes himself against Kris’ body, purring. He’s warm and he smells like kimchi, and Kris shouldn’t like this, but he does. It feels so wrong. He lets cat boy rub against his body, trying to get Kris to pet him, but Kris only stands there, afraid of what he’ll actually do. Cat boy rests his head on Kris’ shoulder, looking up at him, and Kris is suddenly drawn to the sight of his smooth neck.

Collar. Kris steps away so quickly cat boy stumbles and puts too much of his weight on his injured foot. He cries out, wincing, and he’s standing on one foot when Kris turns around with the collar in his hand. He jingles the bell and then rips the company label off.

“Okay?” he says; he’s not sure of what answer he’s expecting.

Cat boy looks at the collar, his ears tipping forward. He doesn’t step away when Kris approaches him, still caught by its little jingle.

Kris opens the collar and, as he does everything with cat boy, slowly proceeds to buckle it around his smooth, human neck. A little interest sound, like a question, leaves cat boy’s lips but he still doesn’t move away and holds himself tense. It feels like he’s holding his breath until Kris fastens the collar, “BAD CAT” staring up at him, and jingles the bell again.

Cat boy meows, his claws resting on Kris’ stomach. His face looks sleepy, content; it’s the face he makes before he’s going to start purring and Kris can’t be caught by that again.

When Kris steps away, wanting to put distance between them, cat boy sniffs the air between them.

“A name,” says Kris. “You need a name.” He looks down at the collar label in his hand: “KAI CAT GOODS.” Kai. “Kai?” He tests it out on his tongue. “Kai.” It’s nice and short. There’s no way his accent can mess that up. “Kai,” he says to cat boy.

Cat boy, Kai, meows, eyebrows scrunching together.

“Kris,” says Kris, resting a hand on his own chest. “I’m Kris. And you.” He points, not trusting himself to touch him again. “You’re Kai. Kai.”

Kai’s ears flicker, his tail wriggling lazily behind him.

Kai. His has a name and a collar around his neck. This is real now.

The jingle of a bell follows Kris into the kitchen, sometimes sticking so close to him it’s hard to turn without bumping into clawed feet or a black tail.

“Kai,” scowls Kris, annoyed, the third time he has almost hit his elbow against Kai’s stomach. He’s standing too close again, his eyes moving from Kris to the sizzling pan as Kris makes dinner for himself. Kris honestly doesn’t know what he’s making, but he’s hungry and now grumpy because Kai is too close.

Then Kai purrs, rubbing his cheek on Kris’ back. Kris almost sprinkles cooking oil on himself and shoves Kai away with a frown. “Get off.”

Aren’t cats supposed to be solitary hunters? Why the hell is he so damn clingy? If there’s anything worse than a cat and a human, it’s definitely a cat human with a personality of an infatuated sixteen year old.

“We can’t touch all the time,” grumbles Kris when Kai’s claws the small of his back. He shivers, heat curling in his cut, and, wow, he didn’t know he was into claws.

Kai leaves him alone while he eats dinner and watches the noise, steadfastly ignoring the two little black ears in his peripheral vision. Kai sits on the floor by the couch, poking at his foot again, and meowing pitifully when his claws sink too deeply into his wound.

“Stop that,” Kris eventually says, dropping his hand to tap Kai on the shoulder to distract him. In a flash, Kai’s foot drops away and he turns his face to Kris, black eyes shimmering.

“Mrow?” he asks, moving his shoulder up and down. He wants Kris to pet him. Again. So much smooth, hot skin. What other noises is that cute mouth capable of making?

“Not happening.” Kris drops his hand, stands up, and goes to wash the dishes. Kai doesn’t follow him, but Kris can feel his eyes, too heavy on his back. It hasn’t even been three days and it’s already too much.

“I’m not ually attracted to cats!” he yells in the kitchen, slamming his plate down in the sink. There’s a jingle and another questioning meow, but Kai doesn’t come into the kitchen.

Kris isn't waiting for him or anything.

omg kris don't be mean T_______T he just wants you to play with him!!! thanks for reading, commenting, and subscribing!!!