pairing: chenlay.
word count: 4900.
rating: PG-13.
genre: all the fluff.
summary: can a cat act as a matchmaker between two lonely hearts? the answer may surprise you.
 

Jongdae thinks he's going crazy. All the hours of overtime at work and the stressful impending deadlines must be hitting him harder than he thought. Why else would there be the sound of a cat meowing when he doesn't even know anyone who owns one? He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, tired and dry from staring at the small letters on the screen of his computer for so long. It's just a figment of his imagination, he thinks. It's nothing.

But there it is again, a mewl, distinct albeit muffled. Definitely a cat. Confused and cautious, Jongdae turns around in his desk chair and casts a glance out across the tiny space that is his living room, until his eyes fall upon the door that leads to the balcony. There, on the other side of the glass, sits a small kitten. It must have noticed that it has successfully caught Jongdae's attention because it starts pawing at the door with almost rabid energy, and its wails grow to a volume so terrifying, Jongdae immediately gets up from his seat to walk over there.

Jongdae lives on the second floor. His balcony is twenty feet above the ground. He doesn't understand how this small cat could have possibly made it up here. Are cats able to scale completely vertical walls? Jongdae honestly wouldn't be surprised. He crouches down in front of the door and taps at the window with a single finger, and the cat seems to tap back, or at least it paws at the glass one last time, staring at him with wide, unblinking eyes while its tail swishes gracefully behind it. “Hey, little buddy,” Jongdae murmurs. “How'd you get up here?”

“Meow,” the cat says. Jongdae supposes he should have seen that response coming.

It's only late September, and while the days are still bearable for the most part, the temperatures at night have already started to drop low, especially when the wind blows as harshly as it does right now. Even though Jongdae's heart might be close to freezing over with misuse, he can't bring himself to leave this small creature outside for the night. At the same time, however, he doesn't have what it takes to house a cat – neither supplies nor expertise. Once more, the kitten paws at the glass, almost as though indignant at the fact that Jongdae still hasn't let it in, and Jongdae exhales a sigh. It doesn't seem like he has much of a choice.

Warily, Jongdae slides the door open. He halfway expects the cat to fling itself into his apartment to start tearing up his furniture, knock over the single plant he owns (a half-dead succulent gifted to him by his mother when he moved into this place), and pee on everything that can possibly be peed upon. The cat, however, simply slinks through the gap and rubs itself against Jongdae's shins, letting out another tiny mewl. He crouches down and stretches out his hand, and the cat rubs itself against that as well while purring loudly. “Huh,” Jongdae says. “You're actually pretty cute.” He wonders what his clients would think if they saw him right now, talking to a damn cat.

The kitten is small, which is why Jongdae, although he is far from an expert on the subject, assumes it must be a young cat, and its fur is a pretty mix of black, white and orangey brown. Calico, Jongdae learns after a quick internet search. The cat is also wearing a purple collar, but there's no tag on it, and so he neither has the information he needs to find the owner, nor does he know what the cat's name is. After a surreptitious, somewhat bashful peak under the tail to discover that the cat is female, Jongdae starts calling her Callie for now. It seems fitting.

It's still relatively early, just past nine in the evening, but still late enough that Jongdae feels bad about having to knock on his neighbor's door at this time of the night. She doesn't seem to happy to be disturbed, either. Her expression softens immediately once Jongdae explains his situation, though. He chooses to leave out the part where Callie randomly showed up on his balcony out of nowhere. Even he has a bit of a hard time coming to terms with that.

The lady gives him both kibble and canned food as well as plenty of cat toys until Jongdae's arms are absolutely loaded with feline-related items. “Do let me know if you need anything else,” she says with great enthusiasm. “I have a lot of experience.” Jongdae knows. He knows she has somewhere between four and eight cats inside her apartment, which he also knows is as tiny as his own. That's why he had come to her for help. “I can take the little critter off your hands, if you want.” The glazed over look she had gotten in her eyes while going on and on about the beauty of cats is honestly a little scary, so Jongdae politely rejects her offer, but remembers to thank her right before he hurries back to his own apartment. He makes sure to lock the door behind himself.

Callie's ears twitch just the slightest bit when Jongdae enters the living room, but other than that, she remains unmoving where she is now curled up on Jongdae's couch. It seems as though she has already made herself at home. It's probably a bad thing, seeing as this is not, in fact, her home. Jongdae isn't even sure if he wants to allow her to sleep on the furniture or not, but he supposes he doesn't have much of a say in that, either.

He spends some time looking up the appropriate amount of food to give a cat of Callie's size before going to the kitchen to fill up two small bowls, one with kibble, one with wet food. Callie immediately springs into action at the sound of the can opening, practically climbing up Jongdae's legs in her quest to get to her food sooner while wailing at the top of her tiny lungs. Jongdae winces at the way her claws dig into his skin through his sweatpants. He quickly places the bowls on the floor, if nothing else then to get her to stop using his leg as a scratching board. She goes straight for the wet food.

Jongdae's laptop is still open. He had been interrupted in the middle of writing, leaving the last initiated sentence unfinished, stopped halfway through as though everything had been put on pause for the time being. He stares at the blinking cursor for a moment. Then he opens up his browser and searches for sites on missing pets. For hours, he peruses forums and Facebook groups, all with people looking for their missing dogs or cats or the odd bird (one person lost their pet tortoise, how does that even happen?). None of them match the description of Callie.

It's past midnight when Jongdae finally gives up his hunt. As much as he wants to help this cat find her way home, he has to get up at six to get ready for work, so he can't exactly spend all night searching. He looks over at the couch where Callie is curled up on top of one of his hideous throw pillows. “Guess you're stuck with me for a while, little buddy.” She sighs in her sleep.

It takes a long time for Jongdae to succumb to unconsciousness, time spent wondering if some poor distraught soul is crying themself to sleep because their cat ran away. He wakes up to a soft ball of fur pressed up against his stomach. He can't say that he minds.

 

As Jongdae hurries home from a long day at work the following evening, somewhat anxious to see what kind of trouble Callie has potentially gotten herself into while he was gone, he bumps into someone on accident. He's turning a corner at the same time as someone else is rounding it from the other side, and their clash has the guy dropping the stack of papers he's holding. “Oh god,” the guy says, scrambling to pick them up before they get ruined. “I'm so sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry,” Jongdae says. He feels bad about causing this collision, so he crouches down to help the guy gather the papers. “It's completely my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going, and I–” He pauses when he finally notices what's printed on the papers in his hands. Missing. Calico cat. Purple collar. There's a picture of the cat in question, too, blurry as if the cat moved while the photo was being taken, but it's unmistakable nonetheless. It's Callie. It's definitely her. Slowly, Jongdae raises his gaze to look at the guy kneeling on the pavement. He looks frazzled. Hair a mess, nose red from the wind, eyes droopy (he looks cute, a very outspoken part of Jongdae's mind supplies, but he quickly silences it because now is Really Not The Time). “Is this your cat?”

“Yeah,” the guy says with a distressed sigh. “I only just got to take her home a few days ago, I can't believe I already lost her, oh god, I'm such a bad pet owner, I'm such a bad person.” He bites his lower lip, staring at the picture of the cat with a glassy gaze. “Maybe it's better this way. Maybe I don't deserve a cat.” Jongdae can tell he's clearly upset. His heart breaks a little.

“Actually, I think I found her,” he says. No reason to drag it out.

The way the guy's eyes light up is so endearing. He stands up fast. “Are you serious?”

Jongdae nods. “Yeah. She's at my place right now, I can go get her, if you want.” The guy nods so hard his entire body moves with it, and Jongdae smiles. “Wait here.”

Much to Jongdae's surprise, Callie hasn't made a mess of the apartment. A few of her borrowed toys are scattered about the living room, and her kibble is spread in a neat halo around the bowl, but that's it. She hasn't even defecated anywhere other than on the newspaper Jongdae laid out in the corner for her. When he gets there, she's perched atop her cat tower, and she meows as she saunters over to greet him, rubbing up against his ankles with her tail held high. Jongdae crouches down to her silky fur. He feels inexplicably sad. Callie is not his, and he never even planned on getting a cat in the first place, and yet he already feels some sort of connection with her. She doesn't protest at being picked up off the floor, only purrs and butts her head against his chin as he holds her to his chest and whispers that it's time for her to go home.

Jongdae passes several 'missing cat' posters on his way back, and it occurs to him that the cute guy must have been in the middle of hanging them everywhere when Jongdae bumped into him. The cute guy is waiting right where Jongdae left him. He looks absolutely ecstatic when Jongdae approaches with the cat, reaching his arms out to take her, and the cat seems happy to see him too, though Jongdae suspects she's friendly with just about anyone who gives her any kind of positive attention. “Thank you so much,” the cute guy murmurs, voice wet. He bows to Jongdae, zips the cat up in his jacket so only her head is peeking out over the top, and kisses her between her twitching ears. She's purring so much. “I have no idea how to thank you enough for this. I would give you something, but I don't really have much of anything to give.”

“It's no big deal,” Jongdae says with a shrug and a dismissing hand gesture. “I'm happy to help. She's a sweet little thing.” It's true. Jongdae has never come across a cat as gentle and compliant as she is, and he has heard a lot of horror stories about cats being the Actual Spawn of Satan, but this one is really not. She's such a sweetheart. He scratches Callie under the chin, and she closes her eyes in delight and purrs even louder, warm and comfortable in her jacket cocoon. It strikes him, then, that her name probably isn't Callie. Maybe he should stop referring to her as that. “What's her name, by the way?”

Here, Jongdae swears he sees the cute guy's cheeks get a little dusting of red, right across his cheekbones. . He's really cute. Jongdae keeps his attention fastened on Callie so he doesn't end up staring too hard. “Oh, I actually haven't gotten around to giving her one yet,” the really cute guy admits. “I'm so bad at coming up with names.” Jongdae hums. He can relate. The one he thought of isn't exactly the most creative. “Do you have any suggestions?”

“I've been calling her Callie. You know, because of her colors. Calico.” Jongdae laughs sheepishly and scratches the back of his neck. “Very original, right?”

“Callie, huh?” the really cute guy repeats, trying it out for himself. He bounces the cat as if she's a baby, and she lets out a small, affronted chirp at being jostled. “Callie. I like it. Suits her.”

Jongdae smiles. “Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too.” There are people passing by on either side of them, not a large crowd in this quiet neighborhood, but enough that they're most definitely in the way where they're standing in the middle of the sidewalk. They should probably get out of here, move away, stop being a public nuisance. Jongdae knows he should get home so he can finish writing that report he never managed to complete the night before. He opens his mouth to say that he needs to go, but the really cute guy cuts him off by suddenly saying:

“You kind of look like a cat. Kitty mouth.” Jongdae quickly raises his gaze to look at him, taken aback, not only by the odd observation, but also by the idea that the really cute guy was possibly staring at his mouth for some reason. The really cute guy's eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “Oh, I... I said that out loud, didn't I?” Jongdae simply nods, for once rendered speechless, and the really cute guy makes a mortified whining noise, burrowing his reddening face into Callie's fur. “Oh god. How embarrassing. Ignore that. Ignore me. I'm just... gonna go.”

Lips twitching with a withheld smile (he just can't help himself around this guy, it seems), Jongdae says: “You're cute.” He purposely widens his eyes and feigns being horrified in an imitation of the really cute guy. “Oh, I said that out loud, didn't I?” The really cute guy looks surprised for a moment. Then he lowers his gaze bashfully, smiling softly. A dimple indents his cheek. Jongdae's heart starts doing somersaults and cartwheels in his chest.

“I should hurry up and get this little lady home before she decides to run off again,” the really cute guy says, bowing to Jongdae. Somehow Callie manages to stay put the entire time. “Thank you for everything. Maybe we'll... I don't know. Anyway. Thank you. Wait. I already said that. Ignore me.” He bows again and then walks off, disappearing around the same corner that had caused Jongdae to bump into him in the first place. For a while, Jongdae just stands there and stares in the direction the really cute guy went. He regrets that he never thought about asking for his name.

 

It feels a little like déjà vu. It's been a few days since the first encounter with Callie. Jongdae is sitting by his computer, once again writing something for work, when he hears a small meow and a scratch at his door. He considers brushing it off as merely wishful thinking, but he still chances a look in the direction of his balcony, and there she is, sitting primly by the door. Jongdae can't help but laugh in disbelief as he gets up to let Callie in. She rubs up against him in greeting, then goes to take her rightful place on the couch, feet tucked neatly under herself, tail wrapped around her body. “I can't believe this,” Jongdae mutters. She's back.

As it happens, Jongdae had decided to keep one of the 'missing cat' posters. Just in case, he has told himself time and time again, denying the fact that he is actually a sentimental sap, who held on to it because he wanted something to remember Callie by. It's a good thing he did, though, because the really cute guy's phone number is written at the bottom of the paper in a row of tearable slips, which means that Jongdae can now call him to let him know where his cat is.

The phone rings. Jongdae feels strangely nervous as he waits. It keeps ringing and ringing and ringing, and just when he's about to quit and maybe try calling back later, it's finally picked up. “Hello?” The really cute guy sounds slightly frantic (but no less cute).

“Hey,” Jongdae says. “It's Jongdae.” Right. The really cute guy doesn't know his name, either. “Uh... Kim Jongdae. I'm the one who found Callie when she ran away?” The really cute guy makes a noise of recognition. He sounds distracted. “I think she came to visit me again.”

There's a crash, possibly the sound of something falling over. “What? She's with you?”

“She's on my couch right now.”

“Oh god.” The really cute guy sounds incredibly relieved. “You don't even understand how happy I am to hear that, oh my god, I've been looking everywhere in my apartment for her, I swear, everywhere, I really don't know how she keeps getting out, I've kept all the doors shut to make sure she doesn't run away.” The way he rambles is really cute, too. Slightly accented. Maybe Chinese? “Is she okay? Sh-she's not hurt or anything?”

Jongdae looks towards the cat. “I think she's fine. She came in and went right to sleep.”

The really cute guy lets out a sigh. “That's good. That's good to hear. Oh god. I can't believe she's done this.” He mutters something under his breath that Jongdae can't quite interpret. He's pretty sure it's in Chinese, though. He'd like to think he's proficient enough in Mandarin to at least identify the language. “Where can I pick her up?”

They've agreed to meet at the same corner as last time. The extra five minutes Jongdae spends in front of the mirror fixing his hair and the meticulous way he picks out his nicest scarf to wear is only because he is a Professional, used to upholding a certain kind of image, not because he's trying to impress the really cute guy. Totally not. Professionalism. That's it.

With Callie tucked safely inside the front of his jacket to keep her warm in the chilly Autumn winds, Jongdae waits. He doesn't have to stand there for long before the really cute guy comes rushing around the corner. He's wearing a beanie, the tips of his dark hair curling cutely under the edge of it, and a huge scarf. His shoulders slump with relief once he sees Jongdae, who shoots him a grin. “She's quite the little escape artist, this one,” he says to hide the fact that his mouth has gone dry. He swears the really cute guy gets even cuter each time he sees him.

“She's gonna give me a heart attack eventually. I can't keep living like this.” He says this with a smile, though, a smile that only widens when Callie mewls and rubs her head against the palm of his hand the best she can while trapped inside Jongdae's jacket. “Silly little kitty.”

Jongdae passes the cat over, embarrassed and guilty about how reluctant he feels to let her go again. He stands, somewhat awkwardly, and watches the really cute guy coo at Callie, noses brushing together. Jongdae doesn't want to leave, not quite yet. He clears his throat. “So, what's your name? I can't keep calling you 'the really cute guy' in my head.”

“Zhang Yixing.” Definitely Chinese, then. Yixing is occupied with tucking Callie into his jacket the same way Jongdae had, so the rest of the sentence seems to register with him belatedly. Once it does, he looks surprised for a moment, and then, like the last time when Jongdae had given him a compliment, he looks down bashfully. “Really cute, huh?” Biting back a grin, Jongdae shrugs his shoulders. He enjoys flirting. If anything comes out of it, great. If not, so be it (with Yixing, he certainly hopes for the former option, though). Yixing is looking down at Callie, scratching her behind the ears. “I prefer handsome, actually. Or maybe y.” His eyes are playful when he raises them to look at Jongdae through his lashes.

Jongdae doesn't bother hiding his smile now. “I'll go with all of the above.” He nods sagely, and Yixing lets out a quick, short trill of surprised laughter that makes Jongdae's smile grow. He likes to imagine that the red in Yixing's cheeks isn't just from the cold.

They fall into a bout of silence, loaded but not uncomfortable. Jongdae still doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want to go back to his empty apartment. He wants to stay with Yixing, right here, in the dusk, under the harsh light of the streetlamps, and he feels selfish for it. In the end, it's Yixing who speaks first. “Thank you for this,” he says, and adds: “Again.”

“It's no big deal,” Jongdae assures him once more. “I'm happy to help.”

Yixing's mouth twists in an expression that's hard to read. “Still, I'll try to make sure this isn't going to happen anymore,” he says. Jongdae also feels selfish for secretly hoping that it does.

 

The next time Callie shows up, Jongdae doesn't call Yixing. He just texts him his address. After a few seconds, he quickly texts his name as well, just to make sure Yixing knows it's him and not just some random stranger. Jongdae had saved Yixing's number in his phone after last time they met (under the name 'Cute Handsome y Yixing' because Jongdae has next to no self-control), but he's not so sure Yixing would have saved Jongdae's number, too.

The minutes that pass with no response are enough to make Jongdae begin to worry that he was too forward with his approach. Maybe straight up sending your address to someone isn't the smoothest way to their heart. But the reply finally comes, and Jongdae can breathe easy again. He takes the time while opening the message to think about when, exactly, he reverted back to being an angsty teenager, anxiously waiting for his crush to text him back.

Yixing has replied with own address and nothing else. Jongdae gawks at it in surprise and wonder, still trying to digest the fact that Yixing is literally his neighbor, living in the apartment building right next door, when a follow-up message ticks in. I'll make tea. In true Cold City Man fashion, Jongdae is honestly more of a coffee kind of guy, but drinking tea with Yixing? In Yixing's home? Which is right next to Jongdae's? He's certainly not going to say no to that.

It's a short walk, down the stairs, around the corner, into the neighboring building, up to the first floor. Jongdae keeps Callie inside his jacket on the way. She seems to enjoy being carried like that. Yixing opens the door mere seconds after Jongdae rings the bell, obviously expecting Jongdae's arrival, and Jongdae smiles at him. “Hello, neighbor.”

The smile Yixing reciprocates with looks tired. He scratches Callie behind the ears, then inclines his head towards the apartment behind him. “Come on in.” Yixing's living room is like a replica of Jongdae's own, only Yixing's looks a lot more lived in with mismatched furniture, random bits of clutter scattered everywhere and plants that are actually alive and green. “Sorry about the mess,” Yixing murmurs as Jongdae takes off his shoes and jacket. “I've been kind of busy lately.” Jongdae waves away his apology with a dismissing hand gesture. “Feel free to take a look around.”

There are a lot of pictures on the shelves, snapshots of Yixing with his family and friends, with a guitar in his lap, with his arm around the shoulders of a boyishly handsome man, with a blob of whipped cream on his nose, with his lips puckered to accept a kiss from a woman. Probably his mom. There are a lot of books, too, some in Mandarin, some in Korean. The ones Jongdae can read the titles of, the ones that aren't fiction, seem to be mostly about children's behavioral health.

Of course, Yixing has a balcony, too. Jongdae casts a glance out the window and notices a familiar tree, branches spilling over the bannister, and a light bulb suddenly turns on in the back of his mind. “Hey, do you leave your bedroom window open?” he asks.

When he turns to look at Yixing, he finds that Yixing is wearing a frown. “That's... kind of an odd question,” he says hesitantly. “But yeah. Sometimes. I find it hard to sleep if it's too hot in my room, so some nights I'll leave the window open for a few hours before I go to bed. Why do you ask?”

Jongdae points outside. “Your bedroom window faces the balcony, too, right?” That's what the layout is like in Jongdae's apartment, so there's a good chance it's like that in Yixing's as well. Yixing nods slowly. He looks very wary, like he doesn't know where Jongdae is going with this and is not quite sure if he wants to know, either. Jongdae grins. “I think I found out how Callie keeps coming to visit me.”

The tall oak tree outside Yixing's apartment is the same one that stretches its top branches over the edge of Jongdae's balcony while the lower branches touch Yixing's place. It's very possible that a curious adventurer like Callie could have climbed her way to the top of it, not known how to get back down, and instead decided to ask Jongdae for help. Yixing bursts out into laughter when Jongdae tells him about his theory. “Of course she just climbed out the window,” he says, shaking his head. “I'm such an idiot.”

Jongdae grins. “It's okay, you're still really cute.” He can't get enough of watching Yixing blush.

In the kitchen, Yixing serves jasmine tea in mismatched mugs. Jongdae's says '#1 Uncle'. He didn't even know they made mugs for that. “I'm sorry that this happened again after I promised that it wouldn't,” Yixing says. “I have a lot on my plate right now.”

Jongdae considers saying that he's happy it happened again because that means he gets to see Yixing more, but there's a heaviness in the air that tells him that now is probably not the right time for humor. “Do you want to talk about it?” Yixing looks surprised by the offer, and Jongdae smiles reassuringly. “I know I may come across as a cocky prick, but I've been told I'm a good listener.”

“It's just school,” Yixing says after a moment's consideration. “I'm studying to become a social worker, and... it's a lot. A lot of new people. New impressions. New words and phrases I have to learn in a new language.” He stares down into his cup as he stirs his tea. “Not a lot of familiar faces.” He looks small and young and a little lost, sitting across from Jongdae on the other side of the tiny dining table in his soft-looking sweater with sleeves so long only the tips of his fingers peek out. “Sometimes I get so lonely I just want to give up and go back home. That's kind of why I got a cat.”

In an act that is entirely out of impulse, Jongdae reaches over to place his hand on top of the one Yixing has resting on the table. He, himself, feels almost as surprised as Yixing looks, but he follows through and says: “I can be a familiar face.” His heart is racing.

Slowly, Yixing looks down at their hands, then up at Jongdae's face, then down at their hands again. He's smiling in that soft, bashful manner when he slides his hand all the way out of his sleeves so he can intertwine his fingers with Jongdae's. “I'd like that a lot,” he says.

And later, when Yixing pushes Jongdae up against the kitchen counter, puts his hands (god, his hands) on Jongdae's jaw and presses their lips together, Jongdae knows he's going to like this a lot, too.

 

The city cuts down the oak tree. Something about the roots expanding too aggressively and tearing into the foundation of the apartment buildings next to it. This means that Callie no longer has a tree to climb in, but that's alright. She doesn't have to come visit Jongdae's apartment any longer. These days Jongdae visits her apartment all the time.

~*~

A/N: I don't even remember where the inspiration for this story came from, it just kind of... happened, I guess? I wrote this story in three days, fuelled by my intense love for exo's entire "the war" album (which the title is also stolen from). for once I actually feel pretty good about something I have produced so that's a thing.

as usual, this is posted as a joined birthday story for kim jongdae and zhang yixing. you know the drill. I love xingdae. I love cats. everything is good.

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