Title: A Pocketful of Animals (1/3) – “Fluffball”

Genre: fluff, AU

Word Count: 6 526

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sanghyuk.

 

--

 

The fluffball’s sick.

 

Fluffball?

 

Your cat. It’s sick.

 

How many times do I have to tell you—that cat’s yours, okay?

Why is it sick?

 

Ah, molla. It’s been sickly since Sunday afternoon.

 

How is it now?

 

It’s just lazing around. It keeps on sleeping, and it refuses to eat.

 

Heol ㅇㅁㅇ

 

Are you free today?

 

Yes, but at a late hour. Why?

 

I supposed we could go to the vet together.

But then I don’t know any vets so…never mind. Can you come over?

 

Why, sure :)

 

Great! What would you like for dinner?

 

Anything, really. You know me. I eat anything^^ ㅋㅋ

 

 Alright then ㅋㅋㅋ See you later :D

 

Yes, see you #^___^#

 

She no longer has the intention of replying but she feels very compelled. Anxious not to seem attention-wanting, she refuses the urge for the first seven minutes, until she could no longer hold it in—she dashes straight for her phone on the table, and, without even knowing what she’s typed she has already sent it:

Keep safe while driving ｡･ω･｡)

 

Good thing that, she thinks, Sanghyuk has a sense of humour too, but she’s always had this sense of curious dismay at the wonder whether his humour is also enough to make him see her occasional hints of care here and there. He soon replies, and it makes her smile, might as well hers had made him—

Oh I will щ(￣ ▽￣щ)

 

Well, not only does it make her smile, but also laugh, because of the emoji. After that she no longer replies, because he’s got work to do, and so does she. She spends a lazy afternoon cuddling with the “fluffball”—she’s been accustomed to calling it so, for it is nameless yet, and out of the thousand names in the world, she cannot seem to choose one.

“I think you’re just missing your master,” she talks in a plaintive tone to the munchkin cat, raising it above her whilst she lies on the couch. “You’re still his, after all,”

The animal does not even purr nor assent with any sound. It’s its second week under her care, and never was she the zoophile either. It was her birthday a fortnight ago and, though thankful for the gift, she could not fathom why Sanghyuk just had to give her an animal. And though two weeks is already quite a long time, she still thinks that the munchkin cat is Sanghyuk’s.

Risa falls asleep without having even known it, as the cat does, as it rests on her stomach. When she awakes it’s almost night, and oh, what hurry she must be in when she discovers the time! She still has to cook dinner! Away she goes dashing to the kitchen; readying the breading, shrimp, the chopping board, the rice, all the ingredients and whatnots needed to make the dinner for tonight. Usually Risa would dine by herself, being home-alone and all, but, hey—she tells herself—it’d be nice to have some company once in a while, don’t you think?

It’s her first time doing it, but she knows she’s read enough from the cookbook so before she even knows it, the oil is popping furiously as soon as she dips the first supposed-tempura onto the pan. She realizes she’s prepared too many that even with her and Sanghyuk eating this together they would still not be able to finish these all up, but it’s too late to regret now. Besides, the Shins next door could always accept her “offers” of dishes—dishes which she has failed to eat during dinner; they’re not leftovers, she justifies, just untouched food.

Risa lets out a loud groan the next time she picks up her phone, because the last text from Sanghyuk was thirty minutes ago. “I’m on my way” it’s said, and it’s already dark when she looks outside. Sanghyuk’s probably just three blocks away now, and she still hasn’t finished preparing dinner. With speed she prepares the table, the rice ready, the side dishes ready, all the while trying hard not to make haste go to waste.

“For the love of prawns, hurry up!” she cusses at the pan, albeit she knows it wouldn’t do anything.

“Meow,” purrs the munchkin cat, for the first time today, as it steps into the kitchen. She turns and huffs an annoyed, but half-comforted breath, as she stoops down to caress it on the head, “You must be excited because your owner’s coming,”

She doesn’t know that cats can, but certainly her pet actually smiles, and rubs what must be its cheek against her hand. She’s taken aback at this sudden show of affection—it’s never tried so before, but something warms her up inside, and, though human she was, she communicates with the animal, “Well, I seem to love you too,” then off she goes back to her work, with the “fluffball” roaming around.

The girl’s caught off-guard when the clock strikes 7:30. To her greatest dismay the doorbell rings, and reluctantly she walks to the door to open it—haggard, sweaty, dishevelled in form generally.

“Come in,” she sighs, apron on her torso; spatula on one hand, a welcoming shake on the other.

They’re not the ideal ‘couple’ one would think, that they bow at each other, needless to say awkwardly.

“Why, I seem to be getting a cooked hostess for a first course,” Sanghyuk jokes, just to indirectly tell her it’s okay.

“Don’t get me started,” her back slouches when she leads the way to the kitchen, adjacent to the dining area. Sanghyuk is undoubtedly tired from work, but he seems to be having fun watching the hostess try in her little honest way to make this evening pleasant for him. Can we wonder why? “Have a seat, Sanghyuk-ssi,” she shyly says, embarrassed because of the sound of cooking tempura as their background music.

“Let me help you,” he offers, making his way to the stove instead of the dining table.

But Risa blocks the pan, shaking her head vehemently, “No-no! Don’t do this to yourself. You’re a guest; you shouldn’t do any of the work,”

“Okay then,” Sanghyuk sighs, and just in time, something presents itself to snag his attention with obliging readiness. The moment next, Sanghyuk feels something rub itself against his foot, and he stoops down as he exclaims, “Oh there you are, little guy!” he lifts the “fluffball” up—the munchkin cat he’s had the generosity and pleasure to give to Risa not so long ago. He’s almost forgotten how it looks like; it’s nothing like any other cat, he admits, because it’s stouter, rounder, fluffier than any other else, cuddly and cozy in his hold. “Is it alright if I hold him?”

“Sanghyuk-ssi what are you saying; it’s yours,” she replies without looking, poking the spatula into the pan of tempura. “Of course you can,”

An almost-visible frown plays on the perimeter of Sanghyuk’s lips, and he corrects her, for what he may hope to be the last time, “Risa-ssi, this cat is yours as much as you warrant it is mine. I gave it to you as a gift, remember?” he says, also internally wondering why he feels a little hurt.

“Yes, but,” she sighs. “I want to be honest with you: I don’t think I deserve it.”

“That’s why it’s called a gift.”

Risa could only puff her cheeks at that comment, because nothing smart would come out of . “Alright then,” is what she could only afford.

“And I think it’d be profanation to my being if you keep saying that; it quite stings, you see,” there comes the second blow, and upon it she feels penitent, so Risa finally replies—

“Right, right; sorry, Sanghyuk-ssi,”

A momentary lull follows—the ‘momentary’ part lasting longer than Risa prefers. She does not waste a single second glimpsing at the tall figure standing not so far from her; a trifle ashamed of her own ungratefulness, and finally conscious of her own offensive faults. Sanghyuk wants to tell her he’s not mad, but for some reason he’s robbed of his words too, feeling that the gap between them gets vaster and vaster with every word exchanged. Why you see, these two are in this position merely because their parents had them obliged them to, and the kind of position we discuss herein, has been subtly hinted with and by a few words. They were acquaintances way back in high school; and their families were colleagues; the term later on beautified affectedly into the term friends; and now for the sake of repaying unnameable gratitudes, these two are to pay for them.

“How was your day?” Sanghyuk says finally, his tone having unworn all the upbraiding they had from a while ago.

“I stayed at home,” Risa replies, quite lost in thought, undecided whether to take another step closer to the pan, because the oil is popping like crazy, and she’s scared. “Took care of the fluffball, and that’s all. What about you?”

“Same thing, different day,” he replies, scratching the head of the ‘fluffball’. “Oh my, you really are right, Risa-ssi. This thing’s not as cooperative as before,” and, sensing that the thing wants to get away from his hold, he gently sets it down upon the floor, then it walks to its little haven back in the living room.

“Told you,”

“I know a veterinarian that can help.”

“About that,” Risa gets a tong to fish out a piece of tempura from the pan. “I figured it’s quite needless to call for a vet. Maybe it’ll just get well on its own. It’s only a bother,”

“Animals need care as much as we do.” Sanghyuk replies rather blankly.

This, Risa thinks but never says, is going to be an unhappy marriage. “Yes, but—” she sighs, because they might and would argue again, “Sure?”

He nods. “But it’s up to you. Dr Cha can help, he’s a friend.”

Risa shrugs. “’Whatever floats your boat,’” she mumbles to herself, remembering Sanghyuk’s own words when they first engaged into this kind of arrangement. She’s not conscious that Hyuk’s watching her as she watches the pan, and s the tong into the golden brown pool, and when suddenly an explosion of a really huge pop of oil erupts, causing her to recoil backwards, and jerk away her scorched hand.

“Ya!” Sanghyuk yelps, coming to the rescue, to examine her injured hand. “Be careful!”

They both don’t know till they realize it; Sanghyuk’s arrested her hand with both his own, examining it like fury. “Oh shoot, it’s big,” Risa grits her teeth upon seeing and feeling the injury caused by the hot oil. This is gonna be another big mark. She’s had some of them burnt marks before, and they have done an excellent job marring her once-pretty white hands, back during the days when Risa was still quite vain of them. “It’s okay, Sanghyuk-ssi,”

“No it’s not,” he snatches the tong from her then, and scoops the tempura pieces one by one into the plate, with his fiancée’s vehement complaining in the background.

“I told you, you shouldn’t—” but she’s cut off when Sanghyuk stuffs a piece of tempura into , after he’s tried one out.

“It’s good, isn’t it? You have better cooking skills than me, obviously,” he says, smug in her behalf, setting the array of tempura on the table, smiling good-naturedly. “And I blew air on that, so it’s not hot. Good job, Risa-ssi,”

Risa is undecided whether to feel flustered or irritated at the calm audacity he’s been showing, and on top of that, she doesn’t know if this is a good sign or what of their imminent marriage. “You really think so?” she mutters, a little incredulously.

“Hmm-mm, I really do think so,” he nods with a catty smile, and he sits on his place at the table. “Shall we eat?”

I like that. She settles on her place then, and after they’ve said grace, they eat away.

Meals with Sanghyuk are not the ideal dinner with someone who should be your other half. They exchange some words, quite a lot, for also the meal lasts for half an hour, and that they know that this can be the only time they could spend to pleasure bonds—whatever bond there is that they have. It’s often like this: loquacious, but never intimate; civil, but never sweet. Both nurse a hope that a spark may come one of these days, but they don’t want to force it nor pretend there is, because both are also conscious of the fact that some things cannot be forced, in law as well as in love.

“I’ll come with you to the vet tomorrow.” Hyuk declares when they stand from the table, and Risa doesn’t know why, but she likes the way he said it—asking no permission, audacious yet quite touching because of the sprinkle of thoughtfulness in it.

But that doesn’t stop her from replying, “But you have work.”

“I can take care of that.”

She still doubts, not the credibility of his statement, but if going to somewhere with Sanghyuk will actually come true. She’s never tried it before, actually. So she nods.

It’s when Risa is clearing up the table that she’s surprised by Sanghyuk again. She has put the plates into the sink, and the water’s freely flowing from the tap, ready to wash the dishes with her. All of a sudden she feels something gently bump against her side, and when she turns, there he is, smiling, as if at some joke she doesn’t know. “Really,” she knits her brows at him with a hesitant smile, quite amused. Their arms are almost rubbing, their hips in close proximity, as they try their best to fit in the space in the front of the sink.

“Let me help you.”

“Guests are not supposed to help,” she likes the efforts he’s showing, and is quite grateful for it.

They share a laugh, one marred with affectation, and Risa lets him help her in the washing. If it’s his pleasure, why not give him it?

Risa, while they wash the dishes, tries a few puns that have made a lot of other people laugh and they succeed, and though Sanghyuk already knows the answers to her corny knock-knock jokes, he pretends he doesn’t, so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. Risa can tell from the way he laughs; a little giggle that swells almost instantly into a loud chortle, and she can’t blame him, because she, too, is pretending.

When the laughter subsides, they spend a moment looking at each other in the eyes, searching for even the weakest twinge of magic, but Sanghyuk is the first one to sigh, avoiding her gaze and aims his on the plates on the rack, “You’re right,” is all he says, but she understands. It doesn’t take a world of words, because some things, even the non-offensive ones, are also better left unsaid.

It’s quiet afterwards; not the awkward kind, not the suffocating one either, merely the obtrusive one that they think they can do nothing about. She offers that he spend a quiet hour in the living room before he goes home, all the while secretly thinking that practice would make things perfect, because soon, Sanghyuk will not only be a visitor of her home, but another owner of it.

He complies.

They still talk, but less effervesced than a while ago, and thankful are both to the TV, that it fills the silences they couldn’t.

“But I’m still going to the vet with you tomorrow,” he repeats, not only to remind her, but himself, also.

“Sure you are,” Risa only smiles, and Sanghyuk wants to try something—a kiss, and if there is a thing as slight success he must have achieved it, for when he proffers a cheek Risa lightly pecks it with hers; it isn’t the thing, not Korean at all—more of the French, but never mind that.

“Good night, Risa-ssi,” he smiles, this time with genuine warmth.

“Yes, good night, Sanghyuk-ssi,” she repays him with the same warmth, “See you tomorrow,”

 And he goes.

 

She cares for Sanghyuk, but doesn’t love him.

 

Yet, hopefully?

 

--

 

“I suppose you really do like taking sleeps in the middle of the day, just look at you,” a sleepy Risa is greeted the next day by a chuckling Sanghyuk, when she opens the door.

She affords an apologetic smile, while rubbing her eye. “Are we going now?”

“Yes, please.”

Risa has already dressed up; or so she thinks—it’s almost summer, and a little warm, so she will be wearing shorts, and a hoodie.

“I look just well enough to be your dad, you know that?” her fiancé remarks and she laughs, while she hands the “fluffball” to him. Why, he’s wearing his working clothes.

“That’s great.” Risa replies when she locks the door behind them, and she doesn’t know wherever she gets the guts, but all she knows is that she surprises herself when she jokes in the manner she’s never done before, “Old man,”

Sanghyuk’s mouth is then agape at the retort, because their humour has never been like this before—a joke intended as a direct assault on either of them. “Hey!” he exclaims, but he’s laughing, too, and it’s not just funny, but also light; a little comfortable, aside from friendly,  and it’s warm, and he concludes that maybe they’re not strangers with each other, after all.

He spends half a mind on the thought that Risa looks cute when she sticks her tongue out.

 

--

 

Something in the manner the veterinarian examines their pet drives Risa anxious. “You could’ve told me a little sooner, but, glad that you’ve brought Mr Fluffball to me now,” the redheaded veterinarian says, and Sanghyuk nods. “It’s lacking nourishment. Do you feed him enough?”

Sanghyuk looks at Risa, who’s looking at Dr Cha. “Hmm-mm!” she nods several times. “It’s that thing that’s not cooperating,” she flattens her eyes at the “thing”.

“I’ll rephrase the question: do you take care of it well?”

Risa couldn’t answer with yes, or no, either; because for all she knows, she’s just doing her job. Feeding it, cuddling with it if necessary, what more should be done? “Uh…” She looks at the cat that’s rubbing its paw on its head, and later it. She feels a little disappointed (and also rather betrayed) that it looks more comfortable here than at her home.

Dr Cha snickers, and Risa could feel blood rise to her face. She half-thinks that this ain’t a vet—he looks too young to be one. And, most probably, he hasn’t even had enough experience yet. The doctor writes something on his clipboard, and they stare at him till he finishes, and he hands the paper to Sanghyuk. “Animals need care as much as we people do,” he’s looking at Hyuk but he’s addressing the statement to the girl, much to the exacerbation of her annoyance. Something about this man irritates her. “Here’s the deal: I’ll take care of Mr Fluffball for three days, because I think I ought to run some tests. Visit here every day while I’m at it if you please; he needs to see his owner,”

Sanghyuk gives him the affirmative, and they settle on the chairs while the doctor further examines their pet.

Her fiancé notices that she’s looking daggers at the vet, that he chuckles. “Is anything the matter, Risa-ssi?” he asks, though it’s already fairly obvious.

“Nothing,” she scowls, channeling her gaze on the paper in his hold. “You’re going to have to go back to your work. I’ll buy whatever’s there,”

 “No; I will. You stay here till he tells you to go. I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay…”

“Take care on your way home. Call me if anything’s the problem.”

“I will; you too, keep safe.”

They smile and wave at each other, as Sanghyuk leaves.

When he’s out of sight she turns to the vet, who instantly turns his head back to the cat, a sly smirk hanging on his lips. “What?” she sneers.

“Nothing, nothing,” but he’s still smiling.

She only has to put up with this for a couple of days, and nosy veterinarians are nothing to be paid attention to. With this idea she manages to renew her spirits, and she asks, “So what’s wrong with the cat?”

“It seems healthy, but that’s the problem. It only seems so.”

“So you’re saying,” she says, “I’m the one at fault?”

“If that’s how you take it.”

It’s only going to be a matter of seconds before she would lose it. She purses her lips for a long second, preventing any rude remark or bad word from being unleashed. She gives herself a little shake for being so weak and wicked, so she swallows up all her annoyance. “What am I supposed to do then? You can’t blame me, doc—it’s my first time. I’ve never tried taking care of an animal before. Ever.”

“Sure? But let me ask you something, Miss Hong,” he smiles. Dr Cha may be irritating, but one that makes up for it is that he’s handsome. “What is your favourite hobby?”

“What,” she mutters. She doesn’t think she has one. But nonetheless she answers, just for the sake of saying something, “Well, I…I’m a kindergarten teacher. So…taking care of kids, maybe? Would you accept that answer?”

He doesn’t answer her question, but only further baffles her with another one of his. “How do you do it?”

“Why, I take care of them, of course. Anything that has got something to do with taking care—playing with them, teaching them, escorting them on field trips, taking meals with them sometimes. Wait, why do you ask?”

He just smiles yet again, and it aggravates her to no end thinking that he’s laughing at her in his secret way. “Let me advise you with something, Miss Hong,” he plays gently with the paws of the cat, and it purrs. “If you would be so kind to take it; try seeing it in this light: treat Mr Fluffball as if he’s one of the children you take care of. He may have the common sense to eat, roam around, but as much as kids need a playmate, Mr Fluffball does, too.”

Involuntarily smiling, she rolls her eyes, for the lecture has made her see the matter in a new light. He’s still annoying, nonetheless.  “You’re pretty much too spry for a vet, you know that?”

“Really?” he laughs. “Why?”

“Try to observe for yourself. You’ll see.” She replies tersely, enumeration would just be a pain.

Dr Cha makes a mental note to do that later at home. For a change of subjects he says, “What’s the name of this little guy, Miss Hong?”

She stares at the cat, the question just now sinking in full force. It’s been two weeks. “I…I don’t know.”

“Eh? That’s sad. You and Sanghyuk-ssi referred to him a while ago as ‘fluffball’ so I supposed that was really his name. Have you thought of what to name him, though?”

“Well, I thought of one, once,” she stares at her shoes. “Eodi.”

“Eodi? As in where?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well during its first week under my care, you see, it often got missing. So while on the search and chanting ‘eodi’ again and again, I thought that maybe it would deserve that name.” she smiles, suddenly remembering Hyuk’s face when she told him the ‘fluffball’ was missing. Not just once, but more than that.

“He was what?” Sanghyuk had said then, horror and shock well-blended together in his voice over the phone. It was during the first time.

“I’m sorry! I really didn’t know! How in the world was I supposed to know that it knew how to get its way out?” Risa said, trying to absolve herself.

But she needed not do so, she realized, because Sanghyuk himself did not blame her. “No, it’s okay. We’ll find him. I can’t go now, but I’ll go there later. Meanwhile, please do everything in your power to look for it. Probably it’s still there in the building. Ask the people there.”

Risa wanted to say but there are over a hundred units in this building! but it was the least she could do for her fiancé that cared for her pet more than she herself did. “Alright then,”

When Sanghyuk came to her apartment that twilight, boy was he relieved to find that Risa had found the cat. He cuddled it close in his arms, letting out a breath of relief that Risa did not soon forget.

“How did you find him?” he asked, with worried eyes.

Risa explained it to him then, carefully, saying that she found it at the crib of a certain family on the third floor. The building had just five floors, but asking for the cat in each of the units therein was no joke.

The second time was when she thought she almost lost the cat, but then it turned out it just spent the entire day in the laundry hamper, among the soiled clothes, sleeping, like the epitome of laziness it was. This event she did not tell Sanghyuk, but it was still counted in the list of what she called, “The Fluffball’s Delinquencies”.

The first time was negligence, second time was ignorance, but the third was plain irresponsibility.

It was when Risa took it out to the park because she was afraid it would make a mess at her home. And, not yet really used to the pet-owner life, she had forgotten that she was with someone—or something, and her blood turned to ice when she realized she had lost her pet, again.

She had no plan of telling Sanghyuk that time, because it was as sure as sunshine he was finally going to blame her. She went back to the park, searching aggressively, and asked people if they saw an orange munchkin cat. Unfortunately, despite of almost five hours of searching, her efforts were still not enough.

Went back to her apartment she did; heartbroken and sighing, “Well, perhaps it was not meant for me after all. Besides, I did not like it that much,” but as soon as these words were ed by she felt terrible, and felt bad despite of herself, because only then did she realize that she had learned to be fond of the cat not only because it was adorable, but also because it was from Sanghyuk, and it was not only an obligation to take care of it for his sake, but also a pleasure. Sure, she wasn’t doing a good job, but she was doing what she thought was right, if not her best.

Her Operation: Tell Sanghyuk the Fluffball Got Totally Lost This Time was at hand, and she dreaded the time that was to come, but she’s made up her mind. But that day the universe did not really seem to be on her side, because two were the (unpleasant) surprises for her that night.

Sanghyuk, suddenly possessed by a sweet mischievous spirit, conceived the idea that he surprise-visit Risa, and, conscious of the idea that his fiancée doesn’t dine well at night, bought Japanese food (especially for the satisfaction of the Japanese blood running in her veins). While driving home, something on the road snagged his attention, a figure all too familiar for him not to recognize. A short, stubby fellow by the species of a munchkin cat was leisurely walking on the side, quite unconscious of the dangers of the busy highway. He was about to ignore it but then he thought munchkin cats are quite rare, and he knows only one person that owns a munchkin cat in all of Korea. A few meters ahead of the said critter he stopped, got down from his car, and stooped down to see if it really was the same animal he had given Risa on her birthday.

Well, what do we know—it was wearing the collar he had made just for the cat, with the small marks in the little pendant, “From: 상혁 ; To:리사”.

He had to admit, he was a little—no, really hurt; because, if Risa didn’t want it, she could’ve just returned it kindly to him, and he wouldn’t have said a word.

 

“Who goes there?” she looked up from the screen of her computer, wondering who would knock at her door at this time of the evening. But oh my goodness, how she turned pale when, who should be standing at her threshold but the one, the only, Han Sanghyuk!

“Surprise,” he said, failing to hide the resentment in his voice, raising the bag of Japanese food in one hand.

“S-Sanghyuk-ssi! Oh, my, what a—uh, surprising—surprise!” she stammered.

“Well I’m not the only one who was surprised,” he said languidly, and Risa wanted to bury herself when, marching to expose her sad failures as a pet owner, came in her apartment was the munchkin cat.

“I—oh my goodness, you found him!” Risa exclaimed; ashamed, relieved, and excited all at once. In an instant she had lifted up the cat in the air, and nearly squeezed the breath out of the animal when she embraced it. But her rapture was interrupted by Hyuk’s sad voice—

“You could’ve just told me, you know,”

Risa turned to ask what it was, but she didn’t need to, because, “Risa-ssi, if the cat’s too much for you, feel free to return it to me. You needn’t get rid of it. That was careless of me to give you a task instead of a gift,” And she thought she just heard her heart crack when he finished it off with a, “Sorry.”

Almost hastily she set the cat down on the floor, and what she wanted to hold next was him, but she couldn’t, and most importantly wouldn’t, because he was a stranger as much as he was her fiancé. She knew Sanghyuk only by his name, his family background, one or two of his other traits, but that was all. She did not know how Sanghyuk would act like when he was offended; how to make him feel better—no, she certainly did not know him as a person. “Sanghyuk-ssi…” but her words failed her. She did not see this one coming.

“Let’s eat?” he said, a smile sadly tugging on his lips, and Risa could only say, “Okay,” after a long, still moment of silence.

What Sanghyuk had planned to be a lively (whatever way it could be made lively) dinner all went down to an awkward meal at 8 o’clock. Both could finger-count the words they exchanged that time.

“Take a seat, please, before you get home, you must be tired from a day’s work,” Risa suggested, but she could’ve gladly begged, if only it was proper.

When Sanghyuk settled down in the parlour, he did not even turn on the TV. He merely sat there watching the animal walk around the living room, and, when it noticed his presence it decided to climb up on his knee.

“Why aren’t you eating your dinner, little guy?” he asked it, noticing the still-full bowl of cat food beside its cushion. “You’re going to get sick if you don’t,” Like pet, like owner. Hyuk almost laughed at the idea.

As if heeding his recommendation, the cat got down after a few minutes, and docilely consumed its food. Sanghyuk smiled.

“He doesn’t listen to me like that,” Risa said, wiping her hand with a towel as she looked at it.

“Is that why you got rid of it?” the question slipped out involuntarily, but he didn’t look like he regretted it.

Well that hurt, Risa thought, but it did not anger her, because she knew she partly deserved it. Although, she couldn’t let him labor under the delusion that she hated his gift. “Look, Sanghyuk-ssi,” she said with a sigh, setting down on the sofa with him, in a length not too far, not too close, either. “I know I kind of deserve to be hated, but please hear me out first. You see, I went to the park today and brought it along, thinking that, well, it would be better. Just—my point is, I brought it with me to the park. But I hope you know I’m still adjusting to the life of a pet-owner. Yes, I know, taking care of kids would be harder than taking care of an animal; but all I’m trying to say is, I forgot that I was carrying it along with me—I know, it’s stupid, and it’s an invalid excuse, but, I’m being honest. If it were not so I wouldn’t have told you, and would’ve just come up with a fantastic alibi.” She exhales after saying them all in one breath. “And…I’m sorry.” A sense of shyness with an unknown cause suddenly takes a hold of her, that at the last three words, she lowers her head, suddenly finding it hard to look at him for a second longer.

Sanghyuk didn’t look at her the entire time she was apologizing, and when she stopped, a second or two after, was when he turned. “So you really don’t hate my gift?” with a smile.

She nodded slowly. He offered a hand to shake then. When she looked up, she was almost ready to cry, but gladly she stopped herself just in time. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He smiled. Sanghyuk was an attractive man—that Risa didn’t mind admitting, but his smile, even without the teeth out, would still be worth a thousand watts. “But let’s let this handshake be the end of this, shall we?”

She took it without another word, and she didn’t just shake his hand, but held it with a grateful squeeze, even with both of hers.

They were laughing, but Sanghyuk almost yelped this, “R-Risa-ssi! Why are you crying?”

“I-I was?” but faster than she could touch her cheek, Sanghyuk had already brought out a hankie from his pocket and wiped the single, but great tear on her face.

“See?” he showed the blot.

“B-because I felt guilty! Geez, Sanghyuk-ssi this is embarrassing!” she muffled her face with her hands.

“No—don’t!” he was giggling with such tender kindness, and, though he knew he was nothing but just a fiancé to her, he held her face, “Risa-ssi, seriously, stop!”

She was still sniffling, but she bobbed her head. “I’m a horrible pet-owner.”

“No, you’re not.” And she was convinced, because his smile was genuinely reassuring.

 

It’s a long chain of memories, indeed, but they only take a few seconds to be played in Risa’s mind. When she’s recalled to reality she realizes she’s smiling, because, thanks to the troublesome cat, she and Sanghyuk are not strangers with each other any longer.

Dr Cha Hakyeon just watches her drown in her reverie with folded arms, and a smile on his face. “But I should think it reminds me of Garfield,” he says, when he senses that she’s reached the surface.

“Now that you mentioned it,” she blinks. “Why, you’re right. Thanks; I’ll take that into account,”

“Oh look, it has gone to sleep,” Dr Cha points out. “Well, Miss Hong, you must still have some appointments for the rest of the day. You may go if you wish,”

“Okay then. Please do take care of him for me. Thank you and see you tomorrow, Dr Cha,” they bow at each other, and Risa goes out.

Her last memory of Dr Cha that day is him taking out something from his pocket, and eating it.

 

--

 

So how’s the fluffball?

 

It’s alright. It fell asleep before I left.

 

But the doctor didn’t say anything about any complications?

 

Nope. And I hope he won’t.

 

True, true. What are you doing right now?

 

Eating cookies. You?

 

You didn’t eat dinner again, did you?

I’m eating ramyeon.

 

This is already my dinner ^O^

Eat well ~

 

Are you on a diet or

 

No! Hahaha! You know me, I don’t eat heavy on evenings.

 

Arra. I haven’t bought the things yet, by the way.

 

But why?

For one, I couldn’t, today, and second reason,

 is that we’ll need this just after Dr Cha’s looked after it.

 

 

Good point. Oh, Dr Cha asked why it’s still nameless.

 

Good question ㅋㅋㅋ Why?

 

ㅠㅠ you should be on my side.

 

Well, I’m not on anyone’s ㅋㅋㅋ

It’s just that I had the same thing in mind.

 

I can’t think of any.

 

Hyuk. Name it Hyuk. ㅇㅅㅇ

 

How about no ㅋㅋㅋ

 

ㅜㅜ what do you want to name it then?

 

I can’t think of any, I told you.

He said it could be Garfield.

 

Because it’s orange?

Nice logic 하하하

 

It’s true, though! I’m actually keeping it in mind.

 

Suit yourself ~

 

Are you going with me tomorrow?

 

 

Sanghyuk’s not able to reply after that, for he remembers he has an online conference call with a client, and it lasts up to late at night, and Risa is asleep by then. He feels a little guilty for not replying. He thinks that maybe he’d call, but that would only mean he’ll be disturbing her sleep, so to make up for it he composes a message, one he takes almost half an hour because it should be brief, but satisfying:

 

Sorry, I had a conference call.

I don’t think I’ll be able to, sorry. But I’ll try next time.

And you’re probably asleep by now, so good night ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

 

After his phone says that the message has been sent, he feels this curious sense of mingled dismay and excitement at the pit of his stomach. Of all the prejudices he had thus far in his life, he knows this is the one he must overcome. Perhaps it was from too many dramas using the “arranged marriage” plot resulting to “both of the parties involved being unhappy”, or, on the other extreme, the story being “überly romantic”; but one thing is certain: they have raised the bar too high for him, and that he had expected so much from both sides that they showed him bland results.

(He’s not the only one in the boat, though.)

From the very start he has possessed the mindset that all this will just be a game of charades, all for the compliance of their parents’ decree, and in fairness even after a year and several months of being betrothed, he still looks at it the same way. Sure, he cares for Risa now, because at least twice a week they would have to see each other, and strangers they may be sometimes to one another, everything has a single bottom line: Hong Risa has been a part of his system now.

Does she feel the same way, though? That is the question.

 

He cares for Risa, but doesn’t love her.

 

Yet, hopefully?