on care and curiosity

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/54314287.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: ZEROBASEONE | ZB1 (Korea Band)
Relationship: Sung Hanbin/Zhang Hao
Characters: Zhang Hao (ZEROBASEONE), Sung Hanbin
Additional Tags: Cat Sung Hanbin, Slice of Life, Slow Romance, Domestic Fluff, Magical
Realism, spoiler: hanbin turns into a human, Some Humor, Crack
Treated Seriously, Eventual Smut, Switching, Happy Ending
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of a soft abandon
Stats: Published: 2024-03-08 Words: 26,777 Chapters: 1/1
 on care and curiosity
by fragilities

Summary

Zhang Hao never planned on getting a cat.

But then he sees grey ears, fluffy tail, and the cutest pink nose in a pet shop window, and it
erases all of his reservations, eliminates any hesitation. Because he has to have him. He has
to.

Notes

yes, i have made a pinterest board for kittybin which is essential viewing before you start this
fic.

though this is in the same series as my puppyhao fic, you don't need have read it before
reading this one since they’re not really connected. but if you have read my puppyhao fic, i
hope you enjoy another take on the ‘my cat-slash-dog turned into a human and is my dream
boyfriend and also the hottest person alive' trope!

happy, happy birthday to inês ♡ i hope nyangbin is everything you hoped for!

See the end of the work for more notes

“You can’t keep living like this.”

“Like what?” Zhang Hao looks around his small flat, trying to see it through Ricky’s eyes:
low coffee table, a faded but still structurally intact couch, and a large window that lets in
natural light — a very good get in the middle of the city. He loves his apartment, even if it is
a little old. “This is fine.”

Ricky, clearly unimpressed by Zhang Hao’s self-reflection, slowly raises his sunglasses to the
top of his head. The movement causes artful blond strands to frame around his face, setting
off his cheekbones and slim jaw. Zhang Hao barely suppresses an eye roll — who knows how
many times Ricky practiced that in the mirror.

“Ge,” Ricky shakes his head. “I’m not talking about your apartment, though you really
should take care of that dust on your windowsill—”

Zhang Hao scowls. That’s rich coming from someone who pays an entire team to clean his
house twice a week.

“—what I mean is you haven’t left your apartment in a week.”

“That’s not true.”

“When was the last time you went out?”

“I went to the convenience store two days ago.”

Ricky lets his sentence hang in the air for a beat. Zhang Hao grimaces.

“When was the last time you went out to socialize?” Ricky presses. “Talk to people?”

Zhang Hao huffs, “Well, you are here now, and I’m talking to you, even though I wish I
weren’t.” The last bit is mumbled under his breath but judging by Ricky’s frown Zhang Hao
knows he hears it as intended.

“I’m only here, because I’m dropping off Xingzuo before I go and thought I would come
check in on you.”

“Gyuvin is watching him?” Zhang Hao asks, changing the subject. He always forgets Ricky’s
boyfriend lives in the same building as him — or perhaps forgets is the wrong word. He
chooses to ignore the budding pressure of making nice with a stranger simply because he’s
dating one of his friends.

It’s not that Zhang Hao doesn’t like Gyuvin, but he likes to take his time getting to know
people. And it’s not that Gyuvin hasn’t tried making an effort; though after continual refusals
to go out to the park for a walk (horrifying) or to catch a movie (which Zhang Hao had
agreed to once), Gyuvin seems to have taken the hint and the most interaction they have
nowadays is when Gyuvin runs out of vinegar or when Ricky invites everyone out to do
something, which, judging by the artist’s busy schedule and Zhang Hao’s lack of a social life,
hasn’t been in a few months.

Ricky nods. “Yes, Xingzuo is not pleased but I know he’ll ruin my carpets if I leave him at
home. But What I’m saying,” Ricky stresses, seeming to get back on track, “is aren’t you
lonely? You’re home by yourself all day. You’ve always been a homebody, but it’s gotten
worse since you switched jobs. At least before, you’d go out every day, see other people at
the office.”

“I like this job,” Zhang Hao defends. “And no, I don’t feel lonely. I text you and Kuanjui and
…” Zhang Hao trails off. “My editor!”

He hasn’t always been this way. Like Ricky said, he’s always had homebody tendencies,
needing some quiet time for himself and enjoying shopping or even going out to eat alone,
but during college — where they first met — he’d had loads more friends, had plans every
weekend. But something about the monotony of a nine-to-five job, and the slow drifting apart
of friendships that had hinged on social clubs and mutual classes and the easy proximity of
their dorms, had found Zhang Hao here: with Ricky berating him in his living room in the
middle of a Wednesday.

“Speaking of,” Zhang Hao sniffs. “I’m supposed to be finishing up something for a deadline
now, so don’t take up all my time with your nagging.”

Ricky sighs, dropping his sunglasses down again, though they’re a sheer, brown sort where
Zhang Hao can still see his eye roll. It’s annoying how many mannerisms Ricky picked up
from him in college because now Zhang Hao has to be on the receiving end of them — Ricky
wasn’t nearly this cool back then, had followed Zhang Hao, his senior by three years,
everywhere. Yet another thing that has changed since graduating.

“Fine, fine,” Ricky placates, crossing his arm. “I have to go catch my flight anyway. But
think about it — if you’re really happy like this. You have me and Kuanjui, and I’m sure
Gyuvin if you bothered to take him up on his board game night invites, but is that enough?”

“It is,” Zhang Hao says firmly. He’d much rather have a couple close, meaningful friendships
instead of a dozen that will inevitably fade in a few years again.

“Fine,” Ricky repeats, backing away toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “Then
I’m going.”

Zhang Hao sighs — he feels bad leaving things this way, and making up over WeChat later
once Ricky’s flight lands won’t be the same. He follows his friend to the door where he’s
slipping on his boots. “I know you’re just worried about me, and you mean well, but you
have to let me do things at my own pace.”

Ricky takes the olive branch. “I know,” he smiles, straightening up with his tote bag slung
over his shoulder. “I’ll see you in three weeks when I’m back.”

“Have a safe flight,” Zhang Hao says, opening the door for him.
As Ricky heads down the hallway, he seems to think of something and suddenly turns
around, walking backwards awkwardly. The shadow of a shy and bumbling and endearing
Ricky is still always there; Zhang Hao watches him from the doorway with an amused
expression.

“At least think about getting a cat, ge.”

──────

Zhang Hao’s hand is in so much pain. He grumbles when the cramp finally becomes
unbearable, dropping his tablet pen and shaking out his hand, though it does little to dull the
ache gnawing from his wrist to his fingers. He glares at the sketched panels on his screen and
rubs his eyes. His vision comes away blurry. How long has he been at this? The numbers in
the top corner of his screen read 4:37 p.m. Ah, he missed lunch — by a lot. As if on cue his
stomach lets out a punctuated rumble.

He isn’t usually one to miss meals. He loves food and eating. But this deadline is particularly
tight, which is also why he’s working through a Saturday instead of doing what he usually
does: lounging five feet away on his sofa watching the latest episode of his drama.

It doesn’t take long for Zhang Hao to figure out that there is nothing — good — in his fridge,
so another trip to the convenience store it is. He doesn’t expect to run into anyone he knows,
so he simply dons a puffer coat over his large shirt and sweatpants, tucks his feet into worn
boots and trudges downstairs and to the corner of the block where the tell-tale orange, green,
and white sign greets him. His path through the convenience store is well-worn by now, and
he grabs his usual along with an ice cream as a treat.

He’s making sure the cashier had given him a straw for his drink as he heads back to his
apartment when something in the corner of his eye catches his attention. It’s a kitten in the
pet shop window. The sun is setting on the road behind him and the reflection on the glass is
particularly blinding, so much so that Zhang Hao can’t seem to see anything in the shop
besides the tiny cat smushed up against the glass. It’s sleeping, with its sweet nose twitching,
nearly swallowed up by all its white, fluffy fur.

His plastic bag is hanging loosely in his grip, and the drink in his other hand is momentarily
forgotten as Zhang Hao stares. The kitten’s light gray ears twitch — maybe it’s having a bad
dream — but it doesn’t move again, even after Zhang Hao stands there for an indeterminate
amount of time. A loud delivery moped speeds up behind him, the revving engine startling
Zhang Hao out of his adoring stupor. How cute, he thinks to himself, heading back down the
street to his apartment.

Zhang Hao finds himself back in front of the pet store a week later. He’s not here to see the
kitten. He simply needed to make another convenience store run, as evidenced by the bag of
snacks and instant rice in his possession. It doesn’t matter that he had paused in the aisle that
had a sad pile of cat food cans and three stray dog leashes. The kitten isn’t in the window this
time, and Zhang Hao slouches a bit. It isn’t until he turns away and is nearly to his apartment
when that disappointment morphs into smarting regret.
As if making the decision for him, his feet make a comical one-eighty, his steps quick as they
lead him back to the store. The bell above the door jingles and a small greeting tune plays as
he enters. It smells like hay in here — not that as a city boy he has ever properly smelled hay
before, but he suspects it would smell something like this, a bit earthy, a slightly sour note
under the valiant air freshening. There’s a small glass enclosure to his right with various other
kittens in it but a quick perusal tells him the one he saw last week isn’t here anymore.
Something yawning and empty threatens to open up in his chest. But he won’t give up just
yet.

Zhang Hao weaves through the store, passing bags of dog food and an entire rack of brushes,
to the counter in the back. There’s a girl — probably a high schooler or a first-year college
student — manning the register.

“Hi, excuse me,” Zhang Hao prompts, catching her attention.

“Good morning, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a kitten,” Zhang Hao blurts. He feels his ears heat, a bit self-conscious. “I
mean, I saw a kitten here last week, in that area.” He indicates with his hand the pet pen at the
front of the store. “I was wondering if it’s still here?”

“Do you remember what the kitten looked like? We had a new litter last week, so it could be
any of them. Did you speak to someone about adopting?”

“No,” Zhang Hao answers, remorse chipping away at that empty spot behind his sternum. “I
was just passing by last week. But it was a small kitten, white with gray ears and maybe some
gray on its body, too? Really fluffy.” His blush has now fully extended to his cheeks.

“Oh, that sounds like one of the ragdolls,” the girl muses. “Maybe Bingbing? Or Yuanyuan?
They both liked to sleep in the sun.” She giggles quietly to herself before realizing that Zhang
Hao is still standing there. “Ah, but unfortunately, they’re really popular. The ragdolls always
get adopted quickly.”

“They’ve all been adopted?” He hopes he doesn’t sound as crestfallen as he feels. Not that
any ragdoll would do — without even realizing it, Zhang Hao had set his heart on the one he
saw in the window. And if it weathers any more disappointment today he is liable to go back
home, ignore his deadlines, and curl into a ball on his bed for the next twelve hours.

“They have, I’m sorry,” she apologizes, looking properly sympathetic. “If you’re interested in
them though, we do have a waitlist for you to leave your name and number. We can give you
a call in the future if we get another litter.”

Zhang Hao wants to refuse; the ‘no, thank you’ right on the edge of his lips, but he finds
himself nodding, if only to appease the girl who truly does look upset on his behalf. He
writes down his name and number on a slip of paper, and the girl promises that she’ll add him
to the list, bidding him a good day.

The bright sun seems to mock him when he steps outside. Zhang Hao makes the short walk
back to his apartment — it’s silent as always when he lets himself in.
 ──────

Zhang Hao steps out of the shower to the sound of his phone ringing in the other room. He
had told Kuanjui to call him immediately when the new merch for their favorite web novel
dropped — and no one else ever calls him — so Zhang Hao books it out of his bathroom,
nearly slipping in the hallway and picks up his phone breathlessly, “Hi, hi, I’m here. Has
everything sold out?”

“Hello,” a distinctly not Kuanjui voice says on the other end of the line.

He freezes. “Hello, sorry … who is this?”

“My name is Soomin, I’m calling from B’on B’on Pet Park. Is this Zhang Hao?”

B’on b’on, Zhang Hao mouths the words silently, trying to figure out if this is a scam. “Yes,
that’s me.”

“Great! You recently left your name and number with me on our waiting list for ragdoll
kittens.”

“Oh!” All this time he had no idea what the name of the pet store he had walked into was.
Zhang Hao’s heart rate picks up. But then comes crashing to a halt again with the realization
that he doesn’t really want a ragdoll, only that specific one he saw. And so now he’s in the
terribly awkward situation of either sounding insanely obsessed or having to backtrack and
tell her no thank you over the phone.

“We recently had a return of one of the kittens that was adopted a couple weeks ago. Parents
wanted it to be a present for their daughter, but she wanted a puppy instead — they tried to
make it work, but ultimately, she really didn’t take to Bingbing, poor thing,” Soomin coos
over the phone, presumably not at Zhang Hao and at the kitten with her in the shop. “So
that’s why I’m calling. Are you still interested in adopting?”

Zhang Hao pauses, heart caught in his throat. He hardly dares to hope. “The cat’s name is …
Bingbing?”

“Ah yes, that’s just our name for him in the store though. You’re free to name him anything
you want. I think the family picked something like Cookie.”

“I remember you told me about him; he likes to sleep in the sun? By the window?” Zhang
Hao can’t help but feel a bit crazed as he asks. He’s dripping water all over his bed and he’s
catching a chill from being in nothing but his towel, but he also thinks the sudden buzz up his
spine has nothing to do with being cold.

“Oh, did I tell you that? He does. He’s really well-behaved, honestly, very sweet. Loves to
take naps right against the glass when it’s warm. He’d make a great companion to lounge
around with.”

“I’ll take him,” Zhang Hao says, barely waiting for her to finish before speaking. His fingers
tremble a little as he clutches his phone. “When can I come get him?”
“That’s great! Honestly, we’re about to close in a couple hours — if you can come today, then
he’s yours.”

“I’ll be right there,” Zhang Hao assures hastily. He thanks her before hanging up, already
halfway to his closet to throw on the first thing he can grab.

Soomin is behind the counter when he rushes into the store not twenty minutes later.

“Hi,” she greets with a smile. “It’s good to see you again. Bingbing is all set to go; we just
gave him a quick checkup when he was returned, but he’s already gotten all his kitten shots
done before he was adopted the first time. Would you like to see him?”

His heart is pounding so fast, so eager to see the kitten that all Zhang Hao can do is nod
quickly, barely managing to mumble a thanks as she lets him into a small gated section
behind the counter. He’s never really cared to have a pet before, had never seriously
entertained it even after Ricky’s parting shot all those weeks ago, but now that he’s on the
verge of seeing the kitten again, Zhang Hao feels like it’s the most important thing in the
world.

In front of him, on the floor in a makeshift penned area is a tiny kitten with soft white fur and
gray ears. Zhang Hao lets out a little gasp. It’s him. He’s curled up in the same way, with the
same twitching pink nose and excessively long lashes.

“You can go say hi,” Soomin encourages when all Zhang Hao does is stand there frozen.

Almost like he’s the three month old one here, Zhang Hao takes shaky steps right to the edge
of the pen. Bingbing seems to be sound asleep, but his cute little ears twitch slightly, and he
peers up with twin, glassy eyes moments after Zhang Hao stops next to him. He’s just as cute
as Zhang Hao remembers — even more so because his clear, large eyes take up nearly half of
his fluffy face. And then Bingbing is getting up and making his way on short legs right to
where Zhang Hao is standing. Bingbing lets out a delicate mewl, and he completely melts.

Zhang Hao bends down, reaching for him with the intention to pet him, but as soon as he’s
within reach, Bingbing practically falls right into his palm. He picks up a handful of creamy
fur and sweet eyes and round muzzle. Zhang Hao cradles Bingbing against his chest, loving
the warmth that radiates from him. He feels it through the thin sweatshirt he’s wearing,
straight past bone and sinew and muscle to his heart.

“Aw,” Soomin coos. Zhang Hao had forgotten she was there. “He really likes you. Come
back around the counter, and we can finish up the paperwork.”

Zhang Hao follows her back out, still holding Bingbing against him. When he tries to set him
down on the table to flip and sign the forms Bingbing refuses to go, digging his claws into
the front of Zhang Hao’s sweater and meowing loudly. Zhang Hao completes the paperwork
with one hand.

“With the adoption fee, we also provide about two weeks worth of the cat food that Bingbing
is used to eating here. But everything else, like a bed and food bowls, you’ll need to
purchase,” Soomin explains.
He nods. As if the price of a litter box is going to prevent him from taking home the cat of his
dreams.

“Great, feel free to pick out some stuff in the store, and then I can get you checked out all
together.”

Zhang Hao takes Bingbing around the store to pick things out for him. Their first stop is a
selection of cat beds. Holding Bingbing close to him still, where the kitten has started softly
purring, he flips through the beds, making small tutting sounds as he sees each selection.
They’re all gray or brown — there’s an atrocious green one as well — but none of them seem
quite right for his Bingbing. He hasn’t had him for more than twenty minutes, but he’s
already sure he would not like any of these.

“I want to get you something cute,” Zhang Hao says, bouncing Bingbing slightly, like a baby.
The kitten’s eyes are half closed, as if fully warm and sleepy now that he’s in Zhang Hao’s
arms. “Would you be okay sleeping in my bed until I can order you something better?”

Of course there’s no reply but Zhang Hao takes his continued purring as agreement.

He picks out a high quality soft-bristle grooming brush — since Bingbing has such long hair
already, Zhang Hao wants to make sure that it’s properly taken care of. He also picks out a —
temporary — litter box, also with the thought of ordering something cuter online, but this is
sadly not something he can forgo for now like the cat bed. He ends up making four separate
trips back to the counter, simply because he can’t carry that much stuff with a sleeping,
droopy kitty in his arms.

Soomin is in the middle of ringing up his items when Zhang Hao suddenly remembers:
“Didn’t you say there was a long waitlist?”

“There is, but funnily enough, for some reason or another, everyone else that I called either
didn’t pick up, had changed their minds, or wasn’t able to come by today to pick him up,” she
says, smiling at the two of them, Bingbing still tucked closely to Zhang Hao’s chest, Zhang
Hao holding onto him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “It really must have
been fate that you answered the phone today.”

──────

Hanbin’s eyes dart from left to right, the streak of red across his vision signaling the
movement of the bird. He’s been tracking it for the better part of an hour, its movements
jittery and its chirps sharp.

A voice cuts across his concentration.

“What is he doing?”
“He’s watching cat TV.” Zhang Hao. Hanbin looks away from the screen to his owner,
sprawled on the couch in his usual matching set loungewear.

A stranger stands on the other side of the sofa. Hanbin has never seen him before, but he talks
to Zhang Hao like they’re familiar. He doesn’t like that one bit.

Hanbin hops off the round velvet ottoman in front of the TV and jumps onto the couch. He
settles right on Zhang Hao’s lap, feeling cool fingers coming down to thread through his fur
instantly. They stroke down his back gently, rhythmically. Ever since he first fell into his
palm, Hanbin loves having Zhang Hao’s hands on him. He starts to purr, turning onto his side
so Zhang Hao can also rub his belly.

“When I suggested you get a cat, I can’t say this is what I had in mind.”

“I took your suggestion, what more do you want?” Zhang Hao sighs.

“I guess, but he’s still not a person.”

Hanbin resents that.

“He can’t, like, actually talk with you,” the stranger continues.

“I don’t need that,” Zhang Hao protests. “He’s a great listener and the perfect emotional
support. Aren’t you, Bingbing?”

Hanbin feels the soft press of lips against the top of his head. He flips around eagerly, letting
out a soft meow as he feels Zhang Hao’s fingers coming up to play with his ears. He starts
purring even louder.

“Damn, he sounds like a racecar,” the stranger comments.

“He’s just happy.”

“Are you sure this is normal? My cat never purrs this loudly.”

“Maybe you should treat Xingzhuo better then.”

“Xingzuo is just fine — he doesn’t like cuddles.”

Hanbin can’t help but think that he wouldn’t want to cuddle with this stranger either. He’s
nowhere near as cute and lovely and sweet and perfect as his Hao. Hanbin doesn’t blame
Xingzuo one bit.

Zhang Hao continues to chat with his friend, who eventually settles down in an armchair next
to the couch — Hanbin is glad he’s keeping his distance. He slowly drifts in and out of
consciousness as the two of them talk. Whenever Zhang Hao speaks, Hanbin can feel it
rumbling slightly against his side, and it comforts him. He’s a boneless puddle in Zhang
Hao’s lap as he absentmindedly plays with Hanbin’s ears and then strokes down the soft
bridge of his nose before drawing his hand over and over his back. Hanbin doesn’t think he’s
ever been happier.
He must have drifted off, because the next thing he knows, gentle fingers are pressing against
his belly, and he’s being lifted in Zhang Hao’s hold. Hanbin mewls happily when he realizes
that he’s being carried to the bedroom — but the sweet meow quickly turns into a quizzical
chirrup as he’s set down on the pillow. Hanbin scrambles to stand on his small paws, only to
see Zhang Hao heading for the bedroom door. He quickly runs to the end of the bed,
meowing loudly.

Where is he going? Why isn’t he coming to bed? Shower time? But Zhang Hao already took
a shower earlier today, before his friend came. Hanbin stands alert on top of the blanket as he
hears water running in the bathroom, the low murmur of voices — the friend has not left then
— and then Zhang Hao returns to the room to throw open his closet. Hanbin lets out another
meow.

“Oh, you’re awake?” Zhang Hao asks, turning to see Hanbin perched right on the end of the
bed. “Sorry if I woke you. I thought you’d be more comfortable sleeping here.”

His Zhang Hao is always so thoughtful. And he does like Zhang Hao’s bed, very much. But
he highly prefers it when Zhang Hao himself is in the bed with him. In fact, that’s ninety-
percent of what makes being on his bed so nice. Hanbin hops onto the floor, stumbling a little
when he lands and makes his way across the room to where Zhang Hao is now pulling some
clothes from his closet. He nudges his wet nose against Zhang Hao’s exposed ankle.

Just like he knew he would, he’s picked up immediately.

“Bingbing,” Zhang Hao whispers with affection, holding him with one hand. Hanbin loves
when Zhang Hao says his name, he loves hearing Zhang Hao calling him for no reason.
Hanbin has heard Zhang Hao take a few calls during the day and while he’s quiet and polite
during those, it’s different from how he talks to Hanbin. His voice is this sweet and gentle
only ever for him.

Hanbin paws at Zhang Hao’s chest, wanting his full attention even as his owner continues
flipping through his hangers.

“What is it, baby?” Zhang Hao asks, jostling him against the crook of his arm, like he’s a real
baby in need of prompting.

Hanbin lets out another chirrup, nuzzling right into Zhang Hao’s chest. Maybe if he acts cute
and needy enough Zhang Hao won’t go. It certainly worked that one time he had wanted to
run to the store for some quick things. All it had taken was Hanbin planting himself in Zhang
Hao’s lap and twisting around, batting his paw at the toy Zhang Hao dangled over him for his
owner to decide that he could actually just order everything that he needed online and
expedite shipping.

Now, Hanbin tries the same tactic as last time, squirming around and batting his small, pink
paws. But all Zhang Hao does is hum indulgently, pulling a sweater off its hanger and
depositing it — and Hanbin — on the bed. Hanbin huffs.

Zhang Hao starts to change, pulling off his lounge set and on a pair of jeans and then the
sweater. Hanbin waits for his head to pop out of his shirt before meowing for attention again.
“Baby, are you hungry?”

No!

“It’s not time yet. You still have a couple hours,” Zhang Hao consoles sweetly.

Hanbin’s tail flicks from side to side. He’s very displeased. How could Zhang Hao leave him!
Abandon him! Make him sleep on this large, wide bed without the comforting warmth of his
body!

Zhang Hao presses a gentle kiss on the top of his head, and Hanbin, as weak as he is, can’t
help but mewl a little in happiness when he does. But then Zhang Hao is heading to the door,
and he can’t have that. He leaps off the bed, scampering as fast as his small paws and short
legs will allow him to slam the door closed with his body.

“Bingbing!” Zhang Hao exclaims, surprised, jerking back quickly to avoid stepping on him.

Hanbin’s side hurts from ramming into the door, but he doesn’t let that stop him from rubbing
up against Zhang Hao’s leg. Soft hands wrap around him and lift him up, and Hanbin thinks
he’s finally, finally going to get what he wants — until he’s set back on the bed.

“I have to go, baby,” Zhang Hao murmurs, petting him.

“Everything okay?” The friend’s voice calls from the other side of the door.

Hanbin hisses, causing Zhang Hao to lift his hand quickly. No! That’s not what he wanted.
Hanbin flicks his tail in continued annoyance, but immediately mewls in apology, stretching
up to butt his head against Zhang Hao’s hand.

Zhang Hao resumes his petting, calling back to his friend, “Yeah, I think Bingbing is just
having a hard time letting me go.”

“Letting you go? What does that even mean? He’s a kitten that weighs five pounds, step over
him.”

Zhang Hao scowls, and Hanbin thinks if he was a cat maybe he would have hissed, too. “Just
give me a moment to talk to him.”

He sits down on the bed, and Hanbin wastes no time in clambering his way onto Zhang Hao’s
lap. He flicks his tail and gazes up at him with wide eyes, begging him to stay.

“I’m going to get dinner with Ricky and some friends,” Zhang Hao explains, fingers rubbing
over Hanbin’s fluffy cheeks. Hanbin dutifully lets him stroke over his prickly whiskers. “I’ll
be back soon, okay?”

Hanbin pretends he doesn’t hear, snuggling even further into his palm.

“Oh dear, what am I going to do with you?” Zhang Hao giggles. “You’re so cute.”

A contented purr starts in Hanbin’s chest again at the praise.

Zhang Hao sighs, so big that Hanbin can feel his diaphragm expanding. “Ricky will kill me if
I raincheck him again,” he complains, reluctantly sliding Hanbin off his lap. “I’m sorry,
baby.” Zhang Hao drops a kiss on the top of his head, whispering, “I love you; I’ll be back
soon, okay? Take a nice, long nap while I’m gone.”

How quickly Hanbin’s ire subsides with just a few sweet words from Hao. How can he stay
angry at him when he’s being so lovely? I love you, too, Hanbin thinks as Zhang Hao heads
out of the bedroom. Hanbin barely stops himself from zooming to the door again. He deflates
once Zhang Hao is out of view, barely managing to wobble over to his owner’s pillow and
kneading it a few times before he’s satisfied. Slowly he folds himself onto it, wishing he was
lying on Zhang Hao instead.

Moments later, Hanbin hears the scuffle of shoes and then the front door shutting. He will
never forgive Ricky.

──────

Hanbin has discovered that Zhang Hao is very strange.

He’ll often make loud exclamations at his computer, ungainly squawks and off-pitch yowls.
He’s prone to break out in random song — and sometimes dance — while hanging laundry,
making lunch, when he brings out that awful vacuum that always makes Hanbin hide
underneath the bed and earns him a tuna treat when Zhang Hao apologizes and coaxes him
back out. He loves the full-body wiggles Zhang Hao does out of nowhere, simply because he
is happy or sometimes surprised, and his boisterous running commentary when they park
themselves in front of the TV for a whole weekend and binge through a new reality show or
the latest season of a drama.

Though Zhang Hao is always gentle with him, Hanbin learns that he’s also exceedingly
bright and lively and fun. He plays with Hanbin, throwing around a feather toy for him to
pounce on, a mouse on a string for him to chase, and a small rabbit plush that Hanbin enjoys
chewing on and taking apart. He shouts — maybe a bit too loudly — when Hanbin jumps out
from behind the bedroom door or around the corner of the kitchen counter to scare him. And
then he always scoops him up and praises him for scaring him “near to death.”

Hanbin has gotten used to this ostentatious version of Zhang Hao, the one who speaks his
mind, the one who is always quick with an exclamation or laugh, who doesn’t hold anything
back. And so this current Zhang Hao, the one that is slightly nervous and reserved as some
stranger, a woman this time, stands in the doorway of their apartment, causes him great
concern.

The words Zhang Hao says to her are quiet, but lacking the usual tenderness Hanbin has
come to recognize in his voice. Hanbin peeks out from under the hallway console table,
watching them.

“Thanks so much for letting me come on such short notice, Hao-ssi,” the woman says.

“No problem,” Zhang Hao makes a gesture for the stranger to come in. “You just have to
print something right?”
“Yes — thank you.”

The woman steps past the threshold and Hanbin tenses, wary and suspicious. But all she does
is remove her shoes and follow Zhang Hao into the apartment. Hanbin quickly darts out to
follow, not letting them leave his sight for one moment. Questions are tumbling through his
mind: Who is she? What is she doing here? Why would Zhang Hao let her in when he
already has him?!

“Oh!”

The woman’s exclamation has Hanbin freezing in the middle of the living room.

“I didn’t know you had a kitten, Hao-ssi. She’s so cute!”

“Ah,” Zhang Hao seems a bit torn, wary the same way Hanbin is, but finally he settles on a
smile as he hurries over to pick Hanbin up. “I just got him. Maybe a month or so ago.”

“Oh, sorry,” she says. “He’s just so pretty, I thought he was a girl.”

“It’s okay,” Zhang Hao’s hand strokes over Hanbin’s head, a bit more relaxed now, his tone a
little less hesitant. “He is very pretty.”

“What’s his name?”

“Bingbing.”

“Aw, that’s a very sweet name. He’s a ragdoll right? Aren’t they expensive?”

“He is a ragdoll,” Zhang Hao beams, unconsciously squeezing Hanbin closer. Hanbin loves it
— he loves being shown off like this. He flicks his ears as he preens and Zhang Hao
continues. “They’re so fluffy, and he has the loveliest eyes and such long lashes. I … can’t
really remember how much he was, to be honest,” Zhang Hao lets out a nervous laugh. “I
think I just wanted him so badly I blacked out and paid whatever they told me.”

“I don’t blame you. You’re so lucky to have such a cute kitten, and one that clearly adores
you,” the woman laughs.

Hanbin has started purring up a storm again, but he can’t help it when he’s tucked nice and
snug in Zhang Hao’s arms. He’s in heaven … that is until Zhang Hao puts him back down on
the floor. He makes a displeased sound between a meow and a huff, but Zhang Hao is already
walking over to his work desk and showing the woman something on the bright screen
Hanbin detests for taking away Zhang Hao’s attention — case in point, right now.

“This is the code for the printer,” he explains. Zhang Hao has become a little more withdrawn
again, shy almost, very unlike the Zhang Hao who had sung to him in the tune of his
automatic feeder this morning. “You can just set everything up on your computer and it
should connect.”

“Thank you again, Hao-ssi,” the woman says, smiling. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know Dong-Yul can be strict about his deadlines.”

“I just can’t believe my internet went out at such a crucial time!”

Hanbin, having had quite enough of Zhang Hao not noticing him, brushes up against his leg,
mewling pitifully and incessantly.

The woman laughs at his interruption, nodding down at Hanbin, “I think your baby is
hungry.”

“Oh no, he just ate,” Zhang Hao mumbles, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I think he just
wants attention.”

Hanbin meows again, walking in a circle around Zhang Hao’s legs, brushing against him —
just begging to be cuddled. He can’t stand it when other people are here. It’s already bad
enough that Ricky shows up at least once a week and last time he had some other guy in tow
with him, too.

“You must be a great owner,” she smiles. “He clearly loves you a lot.”

“I do my best,” Zhang Hao says softly, cheeks flushed.

“Don’t let me keep you,” she says, breezily. “I’ll just print out my drafts.”

Zhang Hao nods quickly and finally bends to scoop him up while the intruder busies herself
at his desk. He takes Hanbin down the hallway to the bedroom, chastising him in the sweetest
voice: “You are just such a needy little guy, aren’t you? You always meow for attention
whenever I get busy. I can’t keep holding you, baby, I have to get some work done.” This
statement is punctuated by small kissing noises as he squeezes Hanbin to his chest.

They enter the bedroom, and Zhang Hao plops onto his bed. Hanbin immediately lies on his
chest — never one to not take advantage of snuggling with Zhang Hao. The two of them
completely melt into the bed, Zhang Hao scrolling on his phone with one hand as the other
cards through Hanbin’s long, cloud-like fur.

Hanbin has just about fallen asleep when there’s a light tapping on the bedroom door. Zhang
Hao, who also seems to have nearly fallen asleep, jolts up quickly, dumping Hanbin on the
mattress. He makes a sound of protest when he hits the soft comforter, unhappy about being
so rudely dislodged from the most comfortable spot in the world, and Zhang Hao
immediately coos and apologizes before calling out, “Yes?”

“I just finished everything, Hao-ssi. Thank you so much again.”

“Great, I’ll be right out!” Zhang Hao calls, placing another kiss on Hanbin’s head in apology
before tucking him into a throw blanket that had been hanging off the edge of the bed. He
then hurries out of the room, saying to his coworker, “Sorry, I was just taking a break.”

“Are you done with your deadlines?”

“Everything is with my editor this week, so I’m just waiting around until he gets back …”
their voices fade out as they leave the hallway and make their way back into the living room.

Hanbin curls up under the thin throw that Zhang Hao had laid over him, but he’s unable to
achieve the same feeling of peace and relaxation as before. As always, it’s not the same if he
isn’t here. Instead, Hanbin turns over in his mind the observation he made before. Everything
from Zhang Hao’s subdued tone to his tense behavior is something Hanbin has never
witnessed before. The only moment that Zhang Hao seemed like himself was just now when
they were cuddled on the bed.

Could it be that Zhang Hao isn’t like the way he is with him — brash and funny and
flamboyant — with anyone else? Hanbin thinks it’s a great loss for them. Zhang Hao is so
funny, so witty, so lovely; he’s simply magnetic. And though Hanbin doesn’t want more
people vying for Zhang Hao’s attention — he’ll die if Zhang Hao isn’t home all day to
shower him with love like that one time he had to go to the “office” — he wants people to see
how brilliant Zhang Hao is. He wants everyone to know how amazing and wonderful and
humorous and smart his owner is. Hanbin lets out a sigh, flicks his tail, and begins to think.

──────

“Bingbing!”

The amount of people in their apartment is staggering and Hanbin is currently hiding away in
one of his plush cat houses — this one shaped like a giant pancake — when an unfamiliar
voice calls his name.

Even though he’s sequestered himself in the depths of the pancake, Hanbin’s keen gaze has
kept an eye on Zhang Hao all night as he has sat at the dining room table with his friends.
They seem to be shouting and exclaiming over something on the table — some sort of game.
And despite the fact that Hanbin is a little annoyed that he is not currently parked on Zhang
Hao’s chest as they watch a movie — their normal Friday night routine — he is happy if
Zhang Hao is happy, and so he enjoys seeing him smiling and laughing and being so loud in a
relaxed environment. At least most of the time.

The guy currently crouching in front of his cat house right now is the anomaly.

“Bingbing,” the boy with floppy brown hair and big eyes says his name again, patting the
outside area of his enclosure in a futile bid to entice him out.

“He’s sleeping.” Zhang Hao’s voice.

Hanbin gets up immediately.

“Oh look, he’s coming out!” the brown-haired boy exclaims.

“Gyuvin, stop bothering Zhang Hao’s cat,” a prim voice nags, though not unkindly.

“He likes me,” Gyuvin defends, just as Hanbin emerges into the bright living room to see a
crowd of three people around his cat house, two crouching, one standing. He only really cares
about one of them though. Despite Gyuvin’s best efforts to reach out to stroke him — and he
does manage to skim his fingers against Hanbin’s side — he heads straight for Zhang Hao,
brushing against his legs.

“Good morning, Bingbing,” Zhang Hao bends down to coo, petting Hanbin on the head.
“Sorry we woke you up.”

“He’s so fluffy,” Gyuvin gushes. He reaches over again, and Hanbin lets him get one pet in
between Zhang Hao’s. “Why can’t Xingzuo be this fluffy?”

“Xingzuo is a Bengal,” Ricky sighs, as if that should explain everything.

Gyuvin promptly ignores him. “If you ever need someone to catsit Bingbing, I totally
volunteer.”

“Oh, that’s …” Zhang Hao hesitates, “nice of you, thank you. But I don’t usually travel.”

“Bingbing also hates everyone besides Hao-ge,” Ricky chimes in.

Hanbin can’t exactly say he’s wrong about that, but watching the two currently crouched
down next to him, he gets an idea. The next time Gyuvin reaches for him, he turns his head,
butting against it like he usually does with Zhang Hao.

“Look!” Gyuvin exclaims, unnecessarily loud. “He likes me! I told you!”

Gyuvin starts to vigorously pet him which isn’t the most comfortable, but Hanbin is on a
mission here so he suffers through it. In fact, he lets out a small meow when Gyuvin chucks
him under the chin.

“Oh, he does,” Zhang Hao murmurs, slightly shocked.

“Xingzuo didn’t like me at first either, but he warmed up to me,” Gyuvin says, sounding
smug.

“You gave him treats—”

“He warmed up to me,” Gyuvin repeats, cutting Ricky off. “Xingzuo is a tough one to crack,
but I did it. All on my own, with my incredibly winning personality and good looks.”

“I’m leaving,” Ricky mutters, indeed stepping away back to the kitchen table.

Zhang Hao reaches out for Hanbin again, as if he wants to pick him up, but ends up simply
threading his fingers through his smooth fur. “Bingbing is a sweetheart though; he’s just a bit
shy.”

Hanbin huffs — speak for yourself.

“Kind of like his owner,” Gyuvin grins.

Hanbin perks up, ears twitching. Gyuvin is a lot more perceptive than he gave him credit for.
Zhang Hao looks a bit surprised. “What makes you say that?” And then slightly guilty. “I
haven’t been very … um, nice to you.” He continues to stroke Hanbin’s back while Gyuvin
rubs his thumb over the top of Hanbin’s head. This isn’t … bad actually. Especially when
they continue chatting over him.

“You mean turning down all my game board night invites?”

“That … and other stuff.”

“And all my invites to go out for walks? And I have to practically corner you in the lobby to
get you to say hi to me every time I see you?”

“Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Zhang Hao refutes. “But I guess I could have been a
bit more friendly.”

“No worries, I get it,” Gyuvin says, undeterred. “Like I said — I think you’re just like
Bingbing, a little shy, a bit slow to warm up to people. But I’m really great with cats.”

Zhang Hao sighs, though a small smile plays at the edge of his lips. It’s the same look he gets
when Hanbin does something inconvenient — shedding all over the bed, running around
overtop his computer keyboard, jumping on his rolling chair and accidentally sending himself
halfway across the living room — but is too cute to properly get mad at. “That’s a bit of a
heavy-handed analogy, but I guess I also get what you mean.”

“So will you come to more board game nights?”

A slight pause.

“You can bring Bingbing since he obviously likes me so much.”

Hanbin meows loudly in contribution, brushing against first Gyuvin’s ankles and then over to
Zhang Hao.

Zhang Hao nods, “Yeah, sure. This has been pretty fun.”

“Nice!” Gyuvin celebrates. “And the walks?”

“Don’t push it,” Zhang Hao says wryly. “Just be happy that I’ll stop avoiding you in the
lobby now.”

“So you were avoiding me!” Gyuvin exclaims.

And it brings so much joy to Hanbin’s heart to see the small, secretive smile on Zhang Hao’s
face. Deciding that his work here is done, Hanbin sets his paws on Zhang Hao’s knees,
begging to be held. His wish is granted immediately — and he's carried over to the couch
with Gyuvin still shouting behind them.
 ──────

Three years later

Zhang Hao’s arm comes up almost unconsciously, a reflex now even as he continues clicking
his mouse with his right hand. Bingbing looks up at him guilelessly, like he wasn’t just going
to step all over his keyboard and accidentally delete a full day’s worth of work — again.

His cat meows in protest, and Zhang Hao gives him a few strokes over his head. The purring
starts immediately, as always. “Here, Bingbing,” Zhang Hao offers, scooting back from his
desk a little bit and lifting his sweatshirt. Bingbing hops down from his desk neatly and
crawls up his front naturally. The first time this had happened, Bingbing had tried to enter his
sweater from the neckhole, and he learned that this was a much better way to not have to buy
new shirts every month.

As Bingbing settles in and starts to purr, Zhang Hao can’t help but feel like this is what he
wanted all along. But he’s more than happy to be manipulated by the most beautiful cat in
existence, so he simply snuggles Bingbing against him as he finishes up the rest of his work
day. For once the sun is still out when Zhang Hao powers down his laptop.

It’s a warm Friday evening, and Zhang Hao is looking to a quiet evening of finishing his
show and cuddling with Bingbing. And then his phone rings. Zhang Hao groans when he sees
the caller ID, but he knows it would be far worse to ignore it. Reaching over like his phone is
about to attack him — the person on the other end just might — he quickly swipes his thumb
to answer the call and places it against his ear. “Hello?”

“This is your mother.”

“Ma, I know.”

“Well, I would appreciate a friendlier greeting!”

Zhang Hao chuckles. “Mama, hello. It’s so good to hear from you. I hope you’ve only had
the most auspicious and wonderful of days since we last spoke.”

“I did not raise you to be so smart-aleck,” she snips, in the way that she always does, in the
way that he’s probably learned from her too well. “Anyway, I was calling to ask if you are
done with work?”

“Yes, I just finished.”

“Perfect! Go and get dressed — I’ve set something up for you tonight.”

“Set something up?” Zhang Hao asks, getting a horrible, horrible feeling. There’s no way.

“Well, you kept dodging me about contacting Xiwen, who is very lovely, by the way—”
“You’ve never even met her before.”

“She is Auntie Luping's niece!” his mother insists.

Zhang Hao somehow doesn’t take that for the glowing character endorsement that his mother
does, but something else he’s learned after twenty years of living with her is when to shut his
mouth.

“And because you kept putting off reaching out to her to set up that date,” his mother
continues on. “I know how to take a hint.”

He sorely doubts that, because otherwise they would not be having this conversation right
now.

“And it is clear you are not interested in her, but I will not have a son with no prospects! It’s
almost the new year which means you’re twenty-seven now. It’s time to put more effort into
meeting someone!”

“Mama, I—”

“One of my old coworkers has a friend of a friend whose son just moved to the city. And I
told her that you would be more than happy to show him around. This doesn’t even have to
be a date! You can simply just go out and make more friends, get to know other people for a
change.”

Zhang Hao sighs — he can tell by the faux generosity and understanding in his mother’s tone
that if he refuses this she will be very hurt and most likely not let him hear the end of it for
another six months. “What’s his name?” he grumbles.

“Zhixiong,” his mother trills happily. “Isn’t that such a lovely name?”

“Sure,” Zhang Hao admits.

“He’s right around your age, too, or maybe a little younger. Anyway, he just changed jobs to
some big electronics company — I am not too sure but it’s better you ask him yourself
anyway; make some small talk!”

A part of Zhang Hao smarts that his mother would encourage him to meet up with a relative
stranger. He could be a serial killer for all she knows; he says as much to her.

“That is not the right attitude, Haohao! I simply want to help you.”

Zhang Hao regrets ever speaking his mind. “He sounds …” he wants to be nice enough to not
rebuff his mother, but also not too eager — because he isn’t, “promising. But I already have
plans tonight.”

“You do?” She sounds skeptical.

Which she has every right to, because Zhang Hao, in fact, does not have plans tonight. But
after a long day of work he does not want to trudge halfway across the city to meet up with a
random guy who he may or may not get along with. “I do,” he says, convincingly.

“Well, I’m sure Quanrui or Kuanjui will be fine with rescheduling,” his mother dismisses.

And this, too, smarts because she so exactly pinpoints the only two people he ever spends
time with. “It’s actually not them, um, Quanrui— Ricky’s boyfriend, he introduced me to
someone, and we made plans tonight,” Zhang Hao says, mentally patting himself on the back
for sounding so natural.

“Hm? Did he? Gyuvin? He has good friends?”

“Mama, don’t sound so suspicious,” Zhang Hao complains. “Gyuvin is a nice guy, and isn’t
this what you wanted?”

“What’s his name?”

Zhang Hao fumbles. He darts his gaze in a near panic around his apartment for anything that
would help him with an answer, eyes settling on Bingbing who was currently swatting at a
plush mouse toy on the floor next to him, having gotten fed up that Zhang Hao was not
paying him any attention and wriggled out halfway through his conversation. “Uh,” he
mumbles. “Bing …”

“Bing?” His mother picks up immediately. “Like your cat?”

“No!” Zhang Hao refutes. “I said Bin. Um, Hanbin.” That was a common enough name,
surely.

“What does he do?”

Of course when his mother offers him a prospective “friend” she’s more than happy to gloss
over the details and accept things at face value, but when Zhang Hao does the same she’s not
going to let him off the hook without asking twenty questions. Zhang Hao rubs his temple;
he’s beginning to develop a headache. “He works with Gyuvin,” he answers.

His mother hums — Gyuvin is a model, and so Zhang Hao knows he’s got her there. She
always did prioritize looks and “good breeding” rather than, well, whether or not Zhang Hao
would actually get along with them. “Well,” she finally says, slowly. “What are you two
doing?”

“We’re just going to get dinner, which—” Zhang Hao takes the escape he’s offered gratefully.
“I need to go and get ready for now.”

“Fine, fine,” his mother answers, a bit too breezily, a bit too easily. Immediately Zhang Hao
tenses, knowing something he doesn’t like is coming. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. And I
hope everything goes very well with your dinner, please give Quanrui and his boyfriend my
regards. Hopefully, I will get to meet this Hanbin in the future, too.”

Zhang Hao barely holds back a groan. This might have been worse than just straight up
refusing her, because now he’s going to have to conjure up “Hanbin” for his mother
somewhere down the line. He knows when she is not going to let something go. “Thanks,
mama,” he mumbles. They bid their goodbyes and as soon as she hangs up, Zhang Hao lets
out a shrieking wail, spinning in his chair.

When it finally comes to a halt, and Bingbing, as if sensing his distress — or his lack of
preoccupation — is sitting primly in front of him, paws neatly set together and bushy tail
alert, expectant. Zhang Hao spares him a small smile, “Yes, we can play now.”

He squats down on the floor and picks up the mouse that Bingbing had been playing with
moments before. Zhang Hao tosses it across the floor and watches him scramble to turn his
fluffy body to scamper in pursuit of the toy. While Bingbing is busy with that, Zhang Hao
looks around for his feather teaser, ready with it by the time he has successfully caught his
prey. He smiles fondly as he moves it this way and that, watching Bingbing dart around the
sofa and under the coffee table with every flick of his wrist. He’s a lot more agile than his
thick fur would suggest, and soon Zhang Hao finds himself running away, laughing
maniacally as the feather trails behind him with Bingbing chasing after them.

Eventually, Zhang Hao collapses on the couch, all tired out. Bingbing crouches on the other
end, bushy tail waving around in the air and a single-minded focus in his eyes. Zhang Hao
wiggles his fingers playfully and Bingbing pounces lightning fast. He giggles as he lets the
cat capture his hand. “Oh, you got me didn’t you? You’re so fast, aren’t you? Look at you —
you did such a good job,” Zhang Hao teases.

This, Zhang Hao thinks, is far more fun than getting all dressed up to spend time with a
random guy he probably wouldn’t get along with anyway. He looks forward to the soup he’ll
make tonight, and whether or not his plot predictions will work out in the drama they’re
watching.

Before going to bed that night, Zhang Hao has the foresight (and paranoia) to text Ricky:

If my mom asks about a Hanbin, he’s Gyuvin’s friend.

He pauses for a moment, hesitating. Well, why not.

And he’s super, super hot

──────

Zhang Hao wakes up, like he does most mornings, to someone — something — kneading at
his backside. The nip of claws tells him it’s nothing to be concerned about.

“Bingbing,” he grumbles into his pillow, still half asleep. “If I check the time and it is not
even half-past seven you are a very, very dead cat.”

Bingbing doesn’t even have the decency to acknowledge his half-hearted threat, not pausing
in the kneading of his ass whatsoever. Zhang Hao wriggles a little and gets an indignant
meow in return as if he has somehow inconvenienced his cat by moving and being awake.
However, it suits him just fine to stay still as he drifts off into half-slumber again, until the
paws and the faint weight of a cat drifts up from his ass to his lower back and then his
shoulder blades. The soft brush of a tail trails over his spine, and that jolts Zhang Hao back
awake.

“That tickles!” he protests, giggling and wiggling around again. It’s enough this time to
dislodge Bingbing, but by then Zhang Hao has already rolled onto his side. Bingbing
snuggles right into his arms perfectly. His fur brushes against Zhang Hao’s chin, and he
lowers his face to stick his nose right in. Bingbing always smells slightly of milk, despite
Zhang Hao doing copious amounts of research and discovering milk is not actually that great
for cats. “Good morning, baby,” he mumbles into Bingbing’s round cheeks. He gets a gentle
purr in return.

Zhang Hao slowly sits up, grabbing his phone to check his notifications — and the many
messages from Ricky inquiring about what the hell he meant last night. He doesn’t really
have the energy for a full on interrogation, or to worry over how he’s going to procure a fake
model boyfriend for his mother, so he doesn’t. Bingbing has hopped off the bed by then,
nosing around the curtains, which means he wants Zhang Hao to open them and let the
sunlight in. He quickly gets out of bed to do just that.

It’s a typical lazy weekend morning for them: Zhang Hao carries Bingbing to the kitchen and
sets him in front of the automatic feeder which must have spit out his food sometime while
they’d been cuddling in bed. Zhang Hao picks up a few pieces of kibble to hand feed him,
before stepping away to make his own quick breakfast of eggs and toast.

“What shall we do today, Bingbing?” Zhang Hao asks cheerily as he flips his eggs. He isn’t
paying attention and a bit of the oil splatters out of the pan and onto the back of his hand. The
sharp heat causes him to yell, which must also startle Bingbing, because he hears a sharp hiss
from the cat as he drops the pan and rushes to the sink to run cold water over his hand.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Zhang Hao whines. After a few seconds under the freezing water, the pain is
already gone though the sting from the oil still lingers in his mind. Soft fur brushes against
his legs, and Zhang Hao glances down to see Bingbing looking up at him with what might be
a look of concern if he was capable of human expressions. “Sorry for scaring you, baby,”
Zhang Hao says, laughing at his own overreaction. “It was just hot.”

He takes his hand out of the water, examining the slightly pink skin, but satisfied that it isn’t
serious enough to cause any blisters. “See?” Zhang Hao turns his hand over to show
Bingbing. “It was nothing; I was just clumsy.”

Bingbing chirrups a little and then circles around Zhang Hao’s legs a few more times,
rubbing himself all over his ankles in a show of comfort. “Thank you, baby,” Zhang Hao
says. He moves over to the stove to clean up the mess he made, his eggs splattered all over
the counter when he had dropped the pan in his rush to the sink. Breakfast ends up just being
some butter on toast.

After, Zhang Hao takes out Bingbing’s grooming kit and settles himself on the sofa with a
show playing as background noise. Bingbing, like he always does whenever Zhang Hao
makes himself idle anywhere for more than two seconds, immediately hops up to curl up on
his lap.

Zhang Hao takes out the soft-bristled comb, working it thoroughly and methodically through
Bingbing’s long fur, making sure there aren’t any tangles. It’s a mindless, meditative routine
at this point, calming in a way very little has been for Zhang Hao lately. And as he gently
works out the small knots in Bingbing’s fur, the cat begins to purr ‘like a car engine’ as Ricky
likes to say. It’s so loud that it nearly drowns out the dialogue of the show.

Bingbing flops onto his side so Zhang Hao can better brush the bristles over the fur of his
belly. Zhang Hao smiles indulgently, “Hmm, does that feel good?”

Bingbing’s eyes half-close in an universal expression of bliss. Zhang Hao begins stroking his
finger up the bridge of his nose; Bingbing doesn’t even move, trusting him completely. He’s
relaxed in his lap, limp and docile as Zhang Hao coos over just how sweet and cute he is.

“My pretty baby,” Zhang Hao murmurs, admiring him as he draws the brush down his tail for
good measure. “Sweetest kitty in the world.”

Once he’s done brushing him over, Zhang Hao picks out the nail clippers from the grooming
bag and reaches for a perfectly groomed and round paw. Bingbing doesn’t even flinch as
Zhang Hao begins pushing out his claws, checking to see if they’ve become too long and
clipping the ones that have, making sure he doesn’t cut them too short.

“You’re doing so well, Bingbing,” Zhang Hao encourages. “That’s right, this foot now.”

Bingbing stretches out his leg, practically placing it in Zhang Hao’s hand.

“Good boy,” he rewards him with more praise.

And then Zhang Hao flips through the various outfits he has for Bingbing, picking out a cute
crocheted pink vest with a bow in the pack. Perfect. Bingbing, as docile as ever, lets him
slowly pull it over his head and then tuck each of his front paws into the holes to get it on
him. After he’s done and for all of his efforts he gets a rough tongue against the back of his
hand. Zhang Hao giggles, burying his nose into the scruff around Bingbing’s neck.

“I hope you feel all groomed and comfy now,” he coos. Bingbing nuzzles right against his
chest and purrs even louder, if that’s even possible.

It creeps up on Zhang Hao slowly during the day. A little after lunch he starts developing a
small sniffle, which he doesn’t put much weight to. Sometimes his nose becomes blocked
because of dust, or if he sleeps weirdly; he’s been lying on the couch all day with Bingbing,
so it’s not surprising. But when dinner time rolls around and his throat feels inflamed and
scratchy and a distinct pressure develops behind his eyes, Zhang Hao is fully in the throes of
denial. It’s simply dust, and Bingbing’s fur. He’ll do a good clean of his apartment tomorrow
and it’ll be fine!

He resiliently powers through making dinner — ramen — as Bingbing perches on his cloud
cat tree, watching him with what could only be described as a look of consternation as he
coughs and hacks his way through boiling his noodles.

“There’s no way,” Zhang Hao mumbles to himself.

He hasn’t gotten sick in years. There’s relatively no chance of it when he stays at home most
days and takes fairly good care of himself. Ricky mentioned that Gyuvin had been deathly ill
just two weeks ago, but he figured he would be fine. And he is! That was two weeks ago, and
Gyuvin was perfectly healthy on Tuesday! It’s nothing!

After dinner, Zhang Hao admits defeat.

His throat is completely swollen and throbbing now, and the pressure behind his eyes has
developed into a full-blown migraine. Zhang Hao rifles around in his medicine cabinet,
cursing when he realizes that his Tylenol is about two years past expiration — it’s been that
long since he’s been down with a cold. He lets out a loud outburst, which he really shouldn’t
have, because that develops into a cough immediately, radiating pain all along his throat.
Fantastic. He eyes the medicine and decides not to risk it — maybe a hot bath will be best.

The sight of Bingbing sitting on his bathroom mat is routine by now as Zhang Hao lets the
water in the bathtub run. He scrubs his hand down his face before he strips and gets in the
warm water. The bath does help a bit; the heat soothes the ache building at the bottom of his
skull and warms up his cold extremities. Zhang Hao pours a bit of jasmine soothing oil in,
swirling it with his foot and watching small bubbles form. The scent drifts around him, and
he can almost believe that his nose clears enough for him to smell it. He leans back in the tub
and closes his eyes, convincing himself that he’ll be all better by the time he’s out.

He hears a small flurry of motion next to his bathtub, and Zhang Hao eyes flutter open to see
Bingbing perching precariously on the lip of the bathtub, watching him with downturned ears
and a flicking tail.

“What is it, Bingbing?” Zhang Hao asks surprised, clearing his throat slightly of its rasp.
“Don’t fall in, okay?” He really isn’t up for a full blow drying and re-brushing session right
now. Already, Zhang Hao eyes Bingbing’s tail warily, hoping it doesn’t swish its way in the
water.

However, it doesn’t seem like Bingbing has any interest in getting in. He continues to sit
delicately next to Zhang Hao, staring at him unblinkingly. “What? You just want to watch me
bathe?” Zhang Hao asks, lips quirking up in a smile. “It’s not very interesting, baby.”

And then Bingbing reaches out a slow paw, laying it on Zhang Hao’s bare shoulder. “Yes,
honey?” Zhang Hao prompts, but Bingbing doesn’t do anything else, simply sits there at an
awkward angle as he keeps the soft weight of his paw on Zhang Hao, as if he’s … trying to
comfort him. Bingbing gives a soft meow and makes a move as if he’s trying to butt his head
against Zhang Hao’s shoulder, though the gap is a little bit too wide. He meows again.

Zhang Hao is so floored and touched by Bingbing’s sweet gesture that he immediately starts
tearing up, which doesn’t help his congestion or swollen throat whatsoever, but he doesn’t
really care. “Thank you, baby,” he manages to choke out. “Don’t worry about me.”
But Bingbing keeps his paw on him for the rest of the bath, not even moving when Zhang
Hao’s wet hand comes up to pet it gently. It helps probably even more than the bath. And
eventually, he returns back to his original position, head back and eyes closed. Zhang Hao
doesn’t even realize he’s dozed off until a loud meow wakes him. He opens his eyes, the pain
in throat returning with his consciousness. Bingbing is still sitting on the side of the tub — he
meows again, and that’s when Zhang Hao notices the slight chill across his shoulders, the
water having cooled considerably while he napped. Zhang Hao scrambles to get out, not
wanting his cold to get worse. Bingbing hops from the edge of the tub and back on the mat.

It doesn’t take long after Zhang Hao slips on his pajamas that Bingbing presses himself right
up against his leg. He sits wrapped around his feet while Zhang Hao roughly blows dry his
hair. Fatigue is coming down on him quickly and whatever remedy the bath had provided
rapidly fades. Zhang Hao is fairly sure he’s running a fever now — his entire body feels hot
and heavy.

He barely manages to stumble out of the bathroom and fall into bed, kicking and twisting
limply to get under the covers. And even then, with him gross and sniffly and coughing,
Bingbing still worms his way under there with him, tucking himself into Zhang Hao’s arms.
And even then, already overly warm with a sensitive nose, Zhang Hao still holds Bingbing to
him tightly, falling into an exhausted sleep, hoping he’ll feel better in the morning.

──────

He does not feel at all better in the morning.

Zhang Hao’s sleep had been fitful and awful. His fever spiked sometime during the night; he
had woken up and stumbled into his kitchen to shakily pour himself a cup of water and choke
down one of those expired Tylenol in a desperate attempt to alleviate the haze that had taken
over his mind. His throat was on fire and his bones actually ached. But the worst part was
that while his body felt exhausted, his mind was so overloaded that even if he managed to fall
asleep, it was plagued with nonsensical dreams and thoughts.

One of his dreams involved walking through some sort of foggy swamp where he kept
hearing Bingbing’s meow, but just as he saw his cat’s shadowy figure, he would suddenly
dart off again and Zhang Hao would lose him. That had somehow been overlaid with the
feeling of falling into a dark hole over and over. And when the falling finally ended, he was
greeted with twin dark eyes, pupils dilated and shiny. They looked just like his Bingbing’s,
but these came with murmured words that he couldn’t quite make out.

The dreams spit him out groggy and in pain, his return to full consciousness not much better
than the murky dreamscape he’d just escaped from. His nose is completely blocked, and no
amount of sniffling does anything to clear it, which means he’s been breathing through his
mouth for who knows how long and now his throat hurts so bad that he can barely swallow.
Zhang Hao lays a hand against the side of his neck and winces at how hot it is. His fever is
still definitely going strong.

The pain in his throat has become so unbearable that it forces Zhang Hao to haul himself up
— he needs to get some water. But his body feels like it weighs a thousand kilos and his arms
are so weak that they actually shake as he tries to prop himself into a sitting position. The
struggle is enough to make him want to flop back onto bed, curl up on his side and succumb
to the fever dreams once more — but he knows that’ll only make it worse. He needs to get
up; he needs to text Gyuvin and maybe shower and make sure Bingbing has eaten and order
food for himself, and all of that feels so overwhelming right now while he’s shaking like a
newborn foal under the covers that he actually feels a sob working its way out of his chest.

Just water, he tells himself. He just needs to get up to get water. And then he can worry about
everything else later. Zhang Hao is steeling himself to slip out of bed before he notices a cup
on his bedside table. He stills. Did he bring it back last night after taking the medicine? He
has no memory of carrying it in his haphazard stumble back to bed, but also he was so out of
it that he can’t quite be sure. But regardless, he’s grateful to his past self for having the
foresight. Zhang Hao brings the cup up to his lips with unsteady hands, taking a sip of the
warm liquid. It stings on the way down, but that one swallow has already slightly eased the
sandpaper pain of his throat. He drinks a little more and before he knows it, he’s finished the
entire cup.

Zhang Hao sets it back down on the table, feeling marginally more alive to take stock of his
surroundings. There’s a tissue box on his bedside table too, that he doesn’t remember, but he
pulls one out to blow his nose. Bingbing is no longer on the bed, but that’s not entirely
surprising. He must smell horrible and be covered in disease — he wouldn’t want to be near
himself either. Hopefully Bingbing holed up in one of his comfy cat houses and got a better
night of sleep than he did.

And that brings him to the next item on his long list of to-do’s: feeding Bingbing.
Technically, Bingbing has a very fancy — and expensive — automatic feeder that dispenses
twice a day. But somewhere along the way, because Zhang Hao is apparently a horrible
owner and spoils him too much, he’s gotten used to Zhang Hao hand feeding him the first
few bites and now refuses to eat unless he does so.

As if the thought of him has summoned his cat, Zhang Hao hears a light bang from
somewhere in his apartment through his open bedroom door. Bingbing is usually extremely
well-behaved, but also, looking at the time on his phone, he is also way overdue for
breakfast.

“Bingbing, I’m coming,” Zhang Hao calls out — or tries to. Apparently his throat is so
ravaged he only manages out a faint croak. And now he’s also out of water, great. Zhang Hao
strains his ear in futile hope that Bingbing somehow heard him. If he had, he would definitely
come, but if he’s all the way in the kitchen, it’s unlikely.

Just as Zhang Hao has resigned himself to getting up, he hears a faint whisper of sound from
the hallway: footsteps. But something is off about them. Zhang Hao struggles to place just
what about it is so unusual, his mind still sluggish and unable to work out complex thoughts.
Just as he lands on the answer — footsteps — the shape of a man materializes in his doorway.

If Zhang Hao’s throat wasn’t already shredded, he would have screamed.

“Oh, you’re awake!” the map chirps, completely cheery and as if they know each other. The
man rushes into his room without hesitation, approaching the bed with a concerned look and
a million questions, “How are you feeling? What hurts? Do you need anything? More
water?”

“Ah—rhggh?” A gargle of sound, alarmed and confused, bubbles out of Zhang Hao. And if
his body didn’t feel so heavy and hurt so much, he would have definitely flinched back when
the man stopped at the edge of the bed to reach for him. However, all Zhang Hao can do as a
cool hand is placed against his forehead is sit there and whimper.

“Oh dear, you still have a fever,” the man tuts. The hand gently brushes away the bangs from
his dry forehead, giving him a sympathetic look. His large, shining eyes sure do look familiar.
They’re incredibly cute even set against an unfamiliar face.

“Am I still dreaming?” Zhang Hao sighs, almost resigned to it at this point. Perhaps he hadn’t
woken up at all, perhaps the fever had rotted his brain.

“You must feel awful,” the man soothes, bending closer, the cat ears on his head folding
forward.

Wait.

Cat ears … on his head?

The edges of Zhang Hao’s vision blurs, and he falls headfirst into a dark hole just like in his
dream. But this time, there’s a soft hand against his cheek to lay him down gently.

──────

Hanbin wrings his hands as he paces the hallway for the nth time. Zhang Hao still hasn’t
woken up and the food is getting cold. Though more than that, it worries Hanbin that he still
hasn’t woken up after succumbing to his fever earlier this morning. Or perhaps it was the
realization of seeing a stranger in his home that got him, though Hanbin had just been so
excited, so concerned that he hadn’t thought it through before rushing into the room. He’ll be
more careful next time.

However, wearing a path on the hallway floor isn’t doing either of them any good, and
Hanbin can only hold back for so long. He pauses in front of Zhang Hao’s bedroom door with
a pattering heart before opening the door and peeking in. He’s still in the same position that
Hanbin had placed him in earlier, on his side with his hands folded in front of him — at least
he’s getting some proper rest now. Hanbin had watched him tossing and turning and
mumbling all through the night, every time blinking blurrily awake before falling into
unsteady slumber again.

It had torn Hanbin’s heart apart, seeing him suffer like that without being able to do anything.
He’d tried to snuggle with him at first, until he realized that his own body warmth was likely
driving Zhang Hao’s fever even higher. And then Hanbin had resigned himself to keeping
watch over him, sitting at the foot of the bed as Zhang Hao whimpered and frowned his way
through a nightmare — unsure if he should try to wake him up, torn over the fact that Zhang
Hao needs rest.

Hanbin had lost track of how long he had sat vigil like that under the full moon. He only
remembers the pang in his chest and the helpless feeling that had overtaken him. How he
wished — harder than he ever had before — that he could do something for him. Hanbin
thinks he must have fallen asleep, or perhaps he was so focused on Zhang Hao he didn’t even
notice, but the next thing he knew, he’d tumbled onto the floor — long gangly limbs and all.
The bang of his body hitting the wood hadn’t even been enough to rouse Zhang Hao from his
fever-induced oblivion.

The sudden transformation and fall had stunned Hanbin for a moment. It was simply as if
he’d grown another limb, become conscious of another part of his body — one that shared
his mind and his memories but which was a little clumsy for lack of use. But his, nonetheless.
It felt almost natural for him to stand, for him to flex his hands, for him to use them to adjust
the blankets over Zhang Hao, who had sometime during Hanbin’s sleep teetered into the part
of his fever where he started shivering. Hanbin didn’t question it too much. At least like this,
he can properly take care of Zhang Hao now.

Which he had set to do all through the night and into the morning — until he’d promptly
clearly overloaded Zhang Hao’s system and sent him fainting. Hanbin hesitates by the door
for a beat, making sure Zhang Hao isn’t yet awake before tiptoeing into the bedroom and
over to his side. He removes the damp cloth from Zhang Hao’s forehead. It had been cold
when he’d placed it there just twenty minutes ago, but Zhang Hao’s overheated skin had
warmed it up in no time. Hanbin takes it to the bathroom, running it under the tap to cool it
down again before returning it to his forehead. Gingerly, he perches on the edge of the bed to
watch over him. At least Zhang Hao has stopped shaking. Maybe it’s a sign that his fever will
break soon. Hanbin can only hope.

It takes two more hours for Zhang Hao to wake. And in that time, Hanbin has warmed his
food twice, replaced the cloth three times, and also tidied the living room for good measure.
He’s just taking the warmer cloth from him again when Zhang Hao begins to rouse, eyes
fluttering and hands running along the blankets like he’s reaching, searching for something. It
takes Hanbin a beat to realize that it’s him that Zhang Hao is searching for. In a moment of
pure instinct, he reaches out to clasp his hand, which startles Zhang Hao fully awake if his
sudden gasp followed by a hacking cough is any sign.

“Oh, oh,” Hanbin says, caught off guard and flustered. He lets go of Zhang Hao’s hand
immediately. “I’m sorry. Here, have some water.” He takes the cup — refilled now — from
Zhang Hao’s bedside table and reaches over to prop his head up so he can take a sip.

Zhang Hao, still too weak to do anything else, allows the support and takes big gulps of the
warm water.

“I’m sorry if I gave you a scare before,” Hanbin apologizes earnestly once Zhang Hao has
laid back down. During his cooking and tidying, Hanbin had turned over in his head how he
was going to explain this to him. And every time he tried to hedge around it, it ended up
sounding far more suspicious than the truth. So he just comes out with it: “I know it must
have been shocking to see a stranger in your home, but I’m not! A stranger, I mean. It’s me,
Bingbing.”

Zhang Hao squints up at him, his face scrunching up adorably despite still obviously being
out of it. He stares up at him for so long that Hanbin starts to get a little uncomfortable,
fidgeting with the corner of the comforter. Eventually, Zhang Hao speaks, brows furrowing,
“That makes no sense.”

Honestly, this was a much better reaction than what Hanbin was expecting already. “I know,”
he placates. “It’s kind of crazy. I’m not too sure what happened either, all I know is that one
second I was watching you sleep and the next I was like this. But now I’m here, and you
don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll take care of you.”

“Am I dying?” Zhang Hao mumbles. And Hanbin isn’t sure if Zhang Hao even realizes but
his hands run out over the blanket again, that same motion as before that’s obviously been
ingrained from many years of seeking out the comfort of his cat.

Tentatively, though with more purpose this time, Hanbin reaches over to hold it in his own.
Zhang Hao’s hand is cold, but it’s familiar, soft in the same places that Hanbin knows, shaped
quite perfectly to fit him. He rubs his thumb over Zhang Hao’s fingers, hoping to warm him
up a little bit. “You’re not dying,” Hanbin promises.

“I feel awful,” Zhang Hao whines.

“I know,” Hanbin soothes. “I’m sorry.”

Zhang Hao mumbles something that Hanbin can’t quite hear.

“What was that?”

“It’s not your fault,” Zhang Hao says, a little louder.

“But I hate seeing you like this,” Hanbin pouts, holding Zhang Hao’s hand tighter.

And despite his obvious fatigue, Zhang Hao’s lips quirk up in a semblance of a smile. He
mumbles something else and Hanbin only manages to catch it because he leans even closer:
“You still smell like milk.”

Hanbin lets out a small squeak, embarrassment heating his cheeks. “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t
know that. Does it bother you?”

“No,” Zhang Hao says, still smiling and shaking his head slightly. He’s obviously still weak
but makes an attempt to squeeze Hanbin’s hand. “It’s nice. I could never figure out why
though. I never give you milk.” He chuckles slightly like it’s some sort of inside joke. Hanbin
doesn’t quite get it, but he’s just relieved that Zhang Hao is smiling again.

“Oh, that reminds me, are you hungry?”

“You cooked?”

Hanbin nods, “It’s nothing much, just some porridge and vegetables.”

Zhang Hao momentarily looks like he wants to say, ask, something and that adorable frown
overtakes his face again — not like he’s angry, simply that he’s trying to process something
his overheated brain isn’t letting him at the moment. But after a couple seconds of trying, he
slumps back into the pillow, giving up. “That would be great, thank you, Bingbing,” he says.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Hanbin says quickly. “You’ve been feeding me for years.”

Seemingly having used up all his energy, Zhang Hao’s eyes have slipped closed again, but the
small smile that returns to his face tells Hanbin that he appreciates his jest. Reluctantly,
Hanbin slips his hand from Zhang Hao’s and hurries to the kitchen to warm up the food for
the third time.

When he returns, Zhang Hao has somehow managed to prop himself up into a sitting position
with his pillows stacked against the headboard.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that yourself, I can help you,” Hanbin says, rushing over
immediately to make sure he’s well supported.

“You said I’m not dying,” Zhang Hao says, waving him off. “And I feel better now after
sleeping.”

He does seem marginally better now even compared to when he woke up just moments ago
and that tempers a bit of Hanbin’s concern. He sets the bowl of porridge on the bedside table
and reaches out to lay his hand over Zhang Hao’s forehead. Still warm, but no longer
alarmingly hot to the touch. He smiles, “I think your fever is finally breaking.”

“Ah, right,” Zhang Hao says, as if he’s just been reminded of something. He looks around for
a moment before pointing at the desk on the other side of the room. “Will you bring me my
phone?”

Hanbin immediately complies, fetching him the phone.

“I’m going to ask if Gyuvin has any medicine at home,” Zhang Hao explains, tapping quickly
on his screen. “He was sick a couple weeks ago. You know, Gyuvin, the super tall guy with
the brown hair?”

“I know.” And he can’t quite keep the fond smile from his face at Zhang Hao’s simple act of
care. “I still remember everything.”

Zhang Hao stares at him with a dazed look, loosely holding onto his phone. He seems about
to say something when his stomach lets out a loud gurgle. The two of them laugh, both
reaching for the bowl. Hanbin gets there a little faster.

“I can eat by myself,” Zhang Hao huffs. Though he doesn’t make any move to take the bowl
from him. Good.
Hanbin gathers a bit of porridge and salted cucumber onto a spoon, blowing on it a few times
before he guides it to Zhang Hao’s lips. His owner eats gratefully. And a warm spark of
happiness runs through Hanbin, being able to provide for him like this, doing something for
him in return for the countless things that Zhang Hao has done for him. And he’s even
happier when it seems like with every mouthful of porridge Zhang Hao regains a bit more
color, eyes growing a little brighter.

“Is it good?” Hanbin asks, eager for praise. Perhaps his cat tendencies haven’t quite left him
yet.

“Mm,” Zhang Hao hums around a mouthful. “You’re a good cook, Bingbing, better than me.”

While Hanbin feeds him the rest of the bowl, Zhang Hao’s phone pings, and he reports that
Gyuvin does indeed have medicine and will bring it up right away. It’s not until a knock
comes at the door about ten minutes later that they both realize they have a problem.

“I’ll get it!” Hanbin offers instantly.

“No,” Zhang Hao refutes. “I’ll get it.”

“You can barely sit up on your own,” Hanbin chides, gently. “You can’t answer the door.”

“Gyuvin doesn’t even know you. He’ll ask a billion questions about why you’re here.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” Hanbin insists. He sets the bowl back on the table and stands
quickly before Zhang Hao can argue anymore.

“Wait, wait,” Zhang Hao hisses. “Your ears.”

“Oh,” Hanbin pauses, hand going up to touch upon the two large, grey ears on his head. He’d
momentarily forgotten about them — and his tail. “I’ll wear a hat!”

“You’re still a stranger answering my door.” Zhang Hao moves as if to get out of bed —
which Hanbin will be having none of.

He zooms back, putting his arm out to stop him. “No, no, don’t get up,” he pleads. “It’ll be
okay. I’ll wear a hat and just tell him that I’m Bingbing.”

“He’s never going to believe that,” Zhang Hao says. “You might as well say you’re my
boyfriend — that would be far more believable.”

“Okay!” Hanbin agrees quickly.

“Wait, I didn’t mean that for real!” Zhang Hao cries, but it’s too late, Hanbin takes advantage
of his weakened state to rush out of the room and down the hall.

Knocking comes from the front door again, and Hanbin barely remembers to snag the hoodie
he’d folded onto the ottoman earlier, tugging it on over the shirt and pants combo he’d picked
out from Zhang Hao’s closet last night. He makes sure the hood is up and covers both of his
ears before he opens the front door.
“Hello,” he smiles, nerves fluttering in his chest. It’s a bit strange, talking to someone besides
Zhang Hao like this — it hadn’t felt unnatural to him at all, but now standing in front of
Gyuvin Hanbin becomes a little self-conscious. He wonders if he’s pulling it off.

“Oh,” Gyuvin looks a bit taken aback at Hanbin’s appearance. “Um, who are you? Is Zhang
Hao okay? He told me he was dying.”

Hanbin can’t help but smile at that — his dramatic little baby. “He’s doing better; he’s up and
just eating something now.”

“Okay, that’s good, that’s good, that’s great. This bug is a really bad one, if he has the same
thing I did — um, who are you?” Gyuvin asks again.

“I’m his boyfriend,” Hanbin says, with more bravado than he truly feels. His name, his name,
his nam— ah. “Hanbin, nice to meet you.”

“Hanbin,” Gyuvin says slowly, like his name is an odd puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit in
the landscape he’s building. “And you’re his … real boyfriend?”

Oh no, he’s onto him already. Hanbin nods firmly, hoping he sounds confident when he says,
“Yes, I am.”

“Well, that was fast,” Gyuvin mutters under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Hanbin asks, a bit perplexed.

“Ah, nothing!” Gyuvin turns a winning smile to him. “I’m sure Zhang Hao has already
mentioned, but I’m Gyuvin. I brought some medicine.” He holds up a plastic bag with a
couple of pill bottles inside and what seems to be a box of lozenges.

Hanbin takes it from him gratefully, though a part of him bristles at having someone else
provide something that Zhang Hao needs. He vows to find out where the store is and go
himself next time. “Thank you,” he says anyway.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Gyuvin says. “Uh, Hanbin. And let Zhang Hao know that
he’ll be missed at board game night this week. Hope he feels better.”

“I’ll tell him,” Hanbin smiles.

Once Gyuvin leaves, he stops by the kitchen to pour another cup of warm water for Zhang
Hao before taking everything back into the bedroom.

Zhang Hao starts interrogating him the second he steps in. “What did he say? What did you
say? He didn’t see anything right?”

“He said you’ll be missed at board game night this week.” Hanbin sets the cup on the bedside
table and is gratified to see that the bowl of porridge is now empty. “And no, he didn’t say
anything else besides that.”
Hanbin sits down on the edge of the bed again and begins taking out the medicine, handing
them one by one over to Zhang Hao who checks the labels, putting them all on the bed next
to him except for one bottle that he pops open to shake out two tablets.

“And I told him that I’m Hanbin, you’re boyfriend,” Hanbin mumbles quickly.

Zhang Hao nearly drops his medicine. “You said what? Hanbin?”

“I heard you the other day, talking to your mom,” Hanbin explains, flushing. “And well, you
said Bing and then … Hanbin. You were thinking of me right?”

Zhang Hao gapes, momentarily speechless. “I mean, I guess. I was trying to think of a name
to tell her and you were right there. It’s not like I ever imagined you’d become …” Zhang
Hao trails off, running his eyes up and down Hanbin, as if seeing him for the first time.

Hanbin slowly lowers his hood, his ears slightly drooping over Zhang Hao’s reluctance. “It
doesn’t have to be real,” he grumbles. “I just said it so it wouldn’t be weird that I’m here.”

Zhang Hao sighs, exasperated and indulgent and resigned. It’s the same type of sigh that
usually precedes Zhang Hao giving Hanbin exactly what he wants whether that be an extra
treat or precious time away from his desk during a deadline crunch to play with him. Zhang
Hao reaches over to run his hand through Hanbin’s hair, trailing up to rub against the velvet-
soft tip of his ears. Hanbin, to Hao’s great shock and his own embarrassment, starts to purr.

“I didn’t mean to do that!” he exclaims, blush traveling all the way down his neck now.

“It’s okay,” Zhang Hao giggles. “I like it … kind of like your milk scent; it’s nice and
familiar.”

The two of them fall into an awkward silence, maybe their first ever since Zhang Hao took
him home that one Sunday afternoon. Hanbin isn’t quite sure what to do — did he mess up
really badly by telling Gyuvin that? Is Zhang Hao having second thoughts now that he’s no
longer in the throes of his fever and is able to think through Hanbin being human?

The two of them sit there, pink-cheeked and hesitating. But after a while — and seemingly
much thought — Zhang Hao pats his blanket-covered lap.

It’s a pavlovian response by now, for Hanbin to want to curl up on him. And this time it’s no
different. Somehow, Hanbin maneuvers his now much larger body on the bed, tucking
himself in with his head on Zhang Hao’s lap and legs curled around him the best he can. He
mumbles against Zhang Hao’s thigh, “I should be the one holding you.”

“Of course not,” Zhang Hao says, as if the notion is ridiculous. “You’re my sweet, little kitty.
What kind of owner would I be if I neglected you?”

Hanbin hums in contentment, words escaping him as Zhang Hao returns his hand to his head
— and his ears — and begins to stroke. The awkwardness of before has dissipated like mist
under the sun — the unease and insecurity in Hanbin’s heart banished, as always, by a few
simple, kind words from Zhang Hao. My sweet, little kitty. That’s all the reassurance Hanbin
needs. His eyelids droop into half-moons. The night without sleep is starting to catch up to
him. He faintly hears the sound of Zhang Hao taking his medicine. “How do you feel?” he
whispers.

“A lot better, Bingbing,” Zhang Hao whispers. “Thanks to you. Rest now — you’ve taken
care of me so well.”

It doesn’t take long for Hanbin to drift off to sleep with the familiar feeling of Zhang Hao’s
hand playing with his hair.

──────

Hanbin stretches, warm and languid under the bright rays of sunlight streaming in through
the windows. The sheets are cool in certain spots where the sun doesn’t quite reach, and
Hanbin loves sprawling into them, getting a bit of relief along his arms. This is his favorite
place to nap in the late afternoons as he waits for Zhang Hao to finish work. He wonders if
he’s done yet, if it’s time to play. Maybe he’ll use his cat wheel for a little while if there’s
time before. Hanbin rolls over onto his stomach, and a rattle by his head makes his ears
twitch.

Wait, that’s not right. Zhang Hao isn’t working today — he’s sick.

He sits up quickly, noticing instantly that the rumpled bed is empty. The sound he heard was
one of the pill bottles that had been herded onto the other side of the queen mattress. Hanbin
carefully scoops them up and sets them on top of Zhang Hao’s desk before following the faint
sounds coming from the bathroom.

The scent of jasmine overwhelms him immediately when he opens the door. And there Zhang
Hao is, sitting in the tub of water with bubbles all the way up to his collarbone. His head is
tilted back, leaning on a rolled up towel and his eyes are closed. Not wanting to disturb him,
Hanbin carefully steps across the room, folding himself silently on the mat. He takes this
chance to admire the arch of Zhang Hao’s neck and the smattering of moles across his face
and the sharp angle of his jaw. He’s so lovely, it’s simply not fair. Hanbin lays his arms on the
side of the tub and sets his chin on them, content to lounge in the warmth of the steam and to
watch Zhang Hao’s peaceful expression.

One of Zhang Hao’s eyes blinks open, and Hanbin beams at him.

“You’re awake?” His voice is still slightly nasally, most likely from the congestion.

“I had a very nice nap. Did you sleep, too?”

Zhang Hao nods slightly. “The medicine helped a lot,” he says. “And your food.”

Hanbin smiles even wider. “I’m glad. Do you want anything for dinner?”

“I don’t think I can eat much right now — more porridge would be nice.”

“Okay,” Hanbin agrees eagerly. But he can’t quite make himself get up yet. He just always
wants to be near Zhang Hao — no different than when he was a cat.
Zhang Hao closes his eyes again, sighing as he sinks lower in the water, and without thinking
Hanbin reaches out to place his hand on his shoulder. Zhang Hao’s only reaction is the small
upturn of his lips, a ghost of a smile that soon smoothes out as every part of him relaxes.
Hanbin trails his other hand through the water, enjoying the way the bubbles stick to it. Even
the overpowering jasmine scent tapers off as his nose adjusts.

And he watches with dark, wide eyes the way Zhang Hao’s chest rises and falls just slightly
below the water; the way his eyelids sometimes twitch, following the movements of his
thoughts; the way his damp strands of hair leave trails of warm water on his skin.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, but it’s Zhang Hao who finally breaks their
reverie. “You did this, too,” he chuckles. “Yesterday.”

Hanbin knows what he means. “I don’t know why,” he says softly, a bit embarrassed but not
enough to move his hand. “You know I like to be with you all the time.”

“Yes, I know you can never leave me alone,” Zhang Hao coos fondly. “I was just surprised,
that’s all.”

“Well, you were clearly so uncomfortable,” Hanbin defends. “I just wanted to help.”

Zhang Hao chuckles again. “You want to know something?” he asks. “It did help.”

Hanbin finds himself warming, pleased. “Really?”

Zhang Hao nods. “I was so miserable and uncomfortable and just having a horrible night. But
I don’t know, it meant a lot that you even tried to help me. I almost cried,” he confesses.

“In a good way?”

“Yes,” Zhang Hao giggles. He opens his eyes and turns to Hanbin, a tender smile on his face.
“You’ve been nothing but good for me, Bingbing.”

Hanbin is momentarily overcome by the endearment in Zhang Hao’s voice, by the warm way
that he’s looking at him through the foggy steam. He feels his eyes tear up a bit, and quickly
straightens, pulling his hands back to rub over his eyes. He clears his throat, “I’ll go and
make dinner now. You shouldn’t stay in too long or else the water will get cold.”

Zhang Hao chuckles fondly. “We’re even now, I guess.”

Hanbin sticks his tongue out at him, which earns him a fuller laugh. He loves making Zhang
Hao laugh. He loves teasing him and he loves when Zhang Hao teases him back — that’s
why playing is his second favorite thing to do, after cuddling with Zhang Hao and before
being fed by Zhang Hao and groomed by Zhang Hao and called by Zhang Hao. Before
Hanbin leaves the bathroom, he folds a towel on the side of the bathtub for him.

Rice goes in the cooker first, and then Hanbin pretty much scrounges up the last of the food
in the fridge for a soup base for the porridge. He’s stirring the pot and adding some salt when
Zhang Hao walks in, still smelling faintly of jasmine. His hair is now dry, and he has his feet
tucked in fuzzy white cat slippers. Before Hanbin can ask if he wants anything else to go with
his porridge, Zhang Hao comes up behind him and slips his arms loosely around his waist.
He rests his chin on top of Hanbin’s shoulder.

“You’re quite tall,” Zhang Hao comments. “I would have thought you’d be shorter.”

“I’m not sure why I’m so tall,” is Hanbin’s best answer.

Zhang Hao giggles a bit. “It’s nice; just the right height,” Zhang Hao says, punctuating his
words by turning his head so his cheek rests on Hanbin’s shoulder instead. “Do you think
you’re going to be like this forever?”

“I’m not sure either.” He hasn’t really thought much about it; he doesn’t want to seem
ungrateful — it’s a gift, after all, being able to be here like this for Zhang Hao. However, “I’d
like to be able to go back.”

“You don’t like being human?” Zhang Hao asks, surprised. He grins. “You’ve still got a tail
though.” One of his hands loosens to reach down, pulling on said tail.

It sends a shiver up Hanbin’s spine and he lets out a mreow before he can stop it.

Zhang Hao bursts out laughing, hand grabbing for his tail again.

“Don’t tease,” Hanbin whines, shifting and turning to keep his tail out of Zhang Hao’s reach.

“Hey! Stop moving,” Zhang Hao cackles. He tugs on Hanbin’s tail again, and Hanbin
grumbles in defeat. It’s not uncomfortable — but it feels incredibly intimate.

“I, for one, hope you never turn back,” Zhang Hao giggles. “It would be so nice, having my
cute kitty dote on me day and night, cooking me meals and hand feeding them to me. That
sounds perfect.”

“I would love that,” Hanbin says sincerely.

“But you want to turn back into a cat!” Zhang Hao accuses, full of humor and no actual
accusation.

“I miss being able to fit in your arms."

“Aw,” Zhang Hao coos, drawing closer once more and returning to his original position: head
on Hanbin’s shoulder, arms around his waist. “But you fit so well like this, too. And then who
is going to bring me my towel when I’m in the bath? And water to my bedside table? What if
I get sick again?”

He knows Zhang Hao is just joking around, but he can’t help but answer sincerely. “Then I’ll
turn back into a human and take care of you again,” he promises.

“Okay, deal,” Zhang Hao beams. “That’s not too bad. My fluffy, pretty Bingbing as both a cat
and a human.”
“Whatever you want,” Hanbin says. He doesn’t miss the way Zhang Hao’s arms tighten
around him — he’s glad they both like the sound of that.

Hanbin eventually sends Zhang Hao away — he’s still sniffly and weak and should go and
rest — while he waits for the rice to finish. Once the porridge is done, he ladles out two
bowls and brings them over to the sofa where Zhang Hao has already curled up on one side.
He’s looking a little paler than before, probably because the previous dose of medicine is
wearing off. Hanbin sets both bowls down on the table, and shifts the box of tissues closer to
him.

Despite the spacious sofa, Hanbin sits down right next to him, his side pressing against his
drawn up knees. And Zhang Hao doesn’t complain this time when Hanbin picks up a bowl
and spoons out some porridge to feed him. He takes bite after bite diligently.

“You should eat, too,” Zhang Hao encourages, chewing. “It’ll get cold soon.”

“No, it’s okay,” Hanbin mumbles, very focused on the way Zhang Hao’s lips close over the
spoon and how his tongue darts out to lick up the last grain of rice.

“Bingbing,” Zhang Hao says sternly, leaning back when Hanbin attempts to push another
spoonful toward him.

“Just one more,” Hanbin coaxes, which Zhang Hao gives into.

When he makes no move to pick up his own bowl, Zhang Hao leans over to do it for him.
Hanbin pauses as he watches him spoon some of the porridge. Does Hanbin eat from Zhang
Hao’s bowl now? He’s slightly unsure — until Zhang Hao holds a ceramic spoon up to his
lips with a quiet, “Ah.”

Hanbin’s mouth opens on reflex, though it’s still a little clumsy and the spoon slightly clacks
against his teeth. But he chews gratefully. “You don’t have to feed me, too,” Hanbin says
around his mouthful.

“It hasn’t even been a day and you’ve already forgotten?” Zhang Hao tsks. “I feed you every
meal.”

Hanbin is reminded of licking off his cat kibble from Zhang Hao’s hands, and the caresses he
gets on his cheeks when he’s busy crunching on them. “I would never forget,” he says. “But
I’m not the one who is sick right now.”

“I can do this much,” Zhang Hao dismisses, shoving more porridge into Hanbin’s mouth to
shut up his protests.

Hanbin retaliates with a spoonful of his own. It’s a bit silly, the two of them holding their
bowls but only eating from each other’s, but it’s also sweet and soothing and Hanbin enjoys it
so much he hopes they eat every meal like this from now on.

He gets up to clear their dishes and to bring Zhang Hao his medicine and a mug of warm
water once they’re done. He looks on fretfully as he takes it.
Zhang Hao catches his expression and gives him a small smile. “I’m fine,” he insists. “Just
the fact that I’ve made it out of bed is a triumph.”

“You’re not going to work tomorrow are you?” Hanbin chides.

“I thought about it …”

And Hanbin is about to protest — ferret him away to his bed and dump his computer and
phone out of the window — before Zhang Hao continues.

“But knowing me, I’ll mess something up while I’m so out of it, so even though I really don’t
want to use my vacation days, it’s best that I don’t.”

“That’s good,” Hanbin nods. “You still need to rest.”

Right on cue, Zhang Hao lets out a loud yawn.

“You should go to bed,” Hanbin suggests.

“Yes, mom.” Zhang Hao snickers. But as Hanbin gets up to do the dishes, Zhang Hao starts
flipping through the TV channels, saying, “I’ll wait for you.”

Hanbin speeds through the dishes; he remembers the routine well enough having perched on
the counter while Zhang Hao has done them. When he returns, Zhang Hao’s eyes are half-
closed, and he’s completely turned to lie on his side. Hanbin gathers him in his arms — and
despite Zhang Hao’s squeaked protest as he’s lifted — carries him into the bedroom.

“Thank you, Bingbing,” Zhang Hao murmurs as Hanbin tucks him in. “Come here.” He pats
the small sliver of space left on his side of the bed, seemingly having somehow forgotten in
his near slumber that Hanbin is much bigger now.

He tries his best anyway. And with a little maneuvering and shuffling, he finally snuggles
himself into the perfect space of Zhang Hao’s arms. Like this, Hanbin can’t help but agree
with what he said before, he does still fit pretty well.

──────

It only takes two days for them to fall into a new routine.

Hanbin wakes up early to make increasingly complicated and experimental breakfasts that
Zhang Hao seems to enjoy also with an improved appetite each day; then Zhang Hao takes a
bath joined by Hanbin where they end up talking for hours — Zhang Hao explaining things
Hanbin never needed to know before, such as public transport, and Hanbin telling him about
all the things he’s noticed over the years that Zhang Hao has never really thought about, such
as one of Gyuvin’s married friends being very, very gay; the two of them feed each other all
their meals, snuggle up on the sofa to binge through shows together, something that Hanbin
has taken great interest in, particularly the discovery and travel channels; and, Hanbin’s
favorite, cuddle in bed, whispering and giggling, before it tires Zhang Hao out and he snores
off to sleep besides him.
It’s a wonderfully idyllic routine, not too dissimilar to what they had before. Except now
Hanbin can share his own thoughts with Zhang Hao, and he’s discovered that putting voice to
them contains the power to tease blushes out of him and make him laugh so hard he starts
wheezing and crying and, once, make him squeak and immediately excuse himself to the
bathroom to ‘take care of something,’ not letting Hanbin come in no matter how much he
knocked and begged. And yet, some things stay the same, like the open adoration Zhang Hao
looks at him with, the eagerness Hanbin is to please him so he’ll earn any scrap of praise, the
way their entire lives still revolve around each other.

One day while Zhang Hao was taking an afternoon nap, Hanbin had been going through the
pile of his own things. His being his cat crate, his adoption certificate, and a bunch of other
things that Zhang Hao had hoarded ‘just in case’ over the years, including expired vouchers
for cat food and random brochures from the vet. Out of curiosity, Hanbin had been flipping
through them when he came across an ad on the bottom half of an inner fold: To you, they
might just be part of your world. But to them, you are their whole world. The quote is
accompanied by a forlorn puppy and dejected looking kitten peering pitifully up at the
brochure holder. Hanbin can’t help but snort. It’s a bit corny — and laying it on thick. And he
tosses the brochure in the recycling along with everything else.

Hanbin was able to laugh it off easily, because dinner is fed to him straight from the hands of
his owner; because even though Zhang Hao is still clearly tired and not at a hundred-percent
yet, he still insists on brushing Hanbin’s tail (“It’s been too long, we don’t want it to get
tangled”); because it has been clear to Hanbin since the day he was adopted that he is Zhang
Hao’s whole world. Hanbin can’t fathom a life where an owner doesn’t dote on their beloved
pet all day, every day. It’s the only reality he’s ever known.

Zhang Hao is slowly dragging the bristle brush through his tail, which is far more sensitive
than Hanbin remembers, causing bolts of electricity to zip up his spine and tremors to start in
his thighs that he tries valiantly to hide. His purring, however, is uncontrollable, even if
Hanbin tries to temper it with a hand against his chest.

“Does it feel good?” Zhang Hao smirks, noticing.

“Mn,” Hanbin is barely able to get a sound out between his thundering purrs. His cheeks
heat, but Zhang Hao doesn’t seem to mind.

“Of course it does,” Zhang Hao continues. “It’s been so long since I’ve brushed your fur. But
I’m feeling much better now, hm? And I’ll take good care of my baby.”

Hanbin plants his face square in the middle of Zhang Hao’s chest, feeling the heat creeping
down from his cheeks to his neck and chest. He feels more than hears Zhang Hao’s laughter.

“I was actually thinking,” Zhang Hao segues without missing a beat. “Since I’m feeling
better, we should go out shopping to get you proper things this weekend.”

“Things?” Hanbin’s ears perk up at that. He sits back up with great interest — he loves it
when Zhang Hao buys him things. The latest purchase, his beloved cat wheel, has gotten
much use in the last few months.
“Mainly clothes. Or else—” Zhang Hao taps Hanbin’s chest. And that slight point of contact
sends another zap of electricity down his sternum to curl low in Hanbin’s belly. “—you’re
going to stretch out all my shirts.” His gaze drops down to his lap. “And pants.”

Hanbin glances down briefly, seeing how the fabric is a little tight around his chest and the
plush material of the sweatpants stretch quite a bit around his upper thighs. “Oh! Would it be
better if I take them off?”

“No!” Zhang Hao exclaims, voice shooting up three octaves as twin spots of pink appear on
his cheeks. “No need for that. You can keep these. It was a little big on me anyway.”

Hanbin peers at the flush on Zhang Hao’s cheeks and grins. He is extremely comely like this,
flustered and adorable. Hanbin secretly thinks he looks wonderful in pink.

──────

Three years later

It took them a while to figure out Hanbin’s tail situation. It’s a bit easier in the winter when a
long overcoat is usually enough to solve the problem. But now that it’s the end of April, they
have to get a little creative — much to Zhang Hao’s detriment. Because Hanbin looks a little
too good in his white sleeveless shirt and baggy denim overalls. It deals with the tail situation
quite neatly, but Hanbin’s arms are out and the low-cut arm holes mean his chest is also
nearly out, and the combination of the two is making Zhang Hao far dizzier than the three
drinks he’s had would suggest. Either that or his tolerance has really worn off since college.

“Are you cold?” Zhang Hao mumbles, shamelessly running his hand up and down Hanbin’s
bare arms under the poor disguise of concern.

“I think you’re the one that’s cold?” Hanbin sees through him immediately, but is more than
happy to play along, looping an arm over Zhang Hao’s shoulders and pressing their sides
together.

“You’re right, I am.” He feigns a shiver and snuggles right up against Hanbin. Zhang Hao
doesn’t know if it’s his body’s way of making up for his lack of fur, but Hanbin always runs
unseasonably warm, even in the summer. More than once, Zhang Hao has wished Hanbin
could be a human-sized cat so he can simply lay on him like a bean bag and personal heater
two-in-one.

“There’s a bonfire right there,” Ricky deadpans next to them, looking like he’s half
contemplating whether to leap into the flames to escape them.
“Well, why don’t you go there to warm up then, Ricky,” Zhang Hao snipes.

Ricky heaves a weary sigh and takes another sip of his drink.

“Shall we go?” Hanbin asks softly, only so Zhang Hao can hear. The brim of his baseball cap
— a necessity whenever they go out — casts a lengthy shadow over his face, but the interest
and eagerness in his bright eyes is hard to miss.

It’s an innocent enough question. And yet Zhang Hao feels a thrum down low that has his
thighs squeezing together in want. Because he hasn’t been the only one that has been eyeing
the other up all evening. And when Hanbin’s thumb skims along the bit of skin his crop
sweater exposes around his waist, Zhang Hao is pleased to know his outfit choice didn’t go
unnoticed either. He feels another heated brush on the bit of flesh right over his waistband,
and then a small pinch that has him arching his back.

Perhaps Ricky’s accusation of the two of them being ‘insatiable’ and ‘annoying’ and
‘impossible to bring anywhere’ had some merit after all. Though Zhang Hao still maintains
that Ricky should mind his own business.

“Yes, let’s,” Zhang Hao agrees, sounding breathless.

“Okay, I’ll go get the car.” Hanbin wastes no time in dashing off. It might just be the alcohol,
but if Zhang Hao squints he can just make out an overlay of a fluffy butt and perky tail as
Hanbin runs away. How cute.

He rubs his hands up and down his arms. It had mostly been for show earlier, but he really is
quite chilly now that Hanbin is gone. Ricky is also nowhere to be found now, probably
disgusted beyond belief and off to find his own boyfriend. Zhang Hao eyes the bonfire a little
ways away, trying to decide if the heat is worth mingling with everyone else. He spots Taerae
and contemplates it, but before he can make up his mind, someone slips into the spot Hanbin
had just vacated.

“I fly all the way here to finally meet your boyfriend and you’re going to ditch?” Kuanjui
smirks knowingly.

“You say this like we don’t have plans this weekend.”

Kuanjui snorts. “Looking forward to you making your bow-legged entrance.”

Zhang Hao gasps, hitting Kuanjui’s arm. “Don’t be crass!”

“I am saying this as a great friend who hopes you get the best dicking of your life,” Kuanjui
proclaims valiantly. “But please, I don’t want to hear about it. I am not interested in a play-
by-play.”

“When have I ever—”

“Why do I know the exact length of Hanbin’s dick then?”

Zhang Hao squeaks and shushes him, drawing the eyes of a few people closest to them.
“Don’t say that so loudly!”

Kuanjui cackles.

“I cannot wait until you go back home,” Zhang Hao grumbles.

Kuanjui only smiles at him indulgently, knowing he doesn’t mean it. “He’s pretty, I’ll give
you that,” he comments. “I can see why you’re so into him.”

Zhang Hao doesn’t even try to deny this one.

If only Kuanjui knew the half of it, that he’s been doting on Hanbin far longer than anyone
would know. Though it had taken them a while to get here. Sure, it was fun and cute to play
pretend boyfriends for a bit, especially once Zhang Hao recovered and word got out via
Gyuvin to their circle of friends that ‘Hanbin is real.’ But Zhang Hao had always thought it
would be a ruse that would run its course, especially after Hanbin had poofed back into a cat
for the first time right in front of his eyes. But the cuddles and sweet words and constant
companionship — not to mention Hanbin giving him those eyes, somehow beseechingly
pathetic and irresistibly alluring at the same time — had worn him down.

And somewhere along the way their pretense became reality. His life became fantastical by
way of a magical cat that could transform into the most darling human alive, but his life also
became cozy and serene and happy, so happy, in a way that isn’t fantasy at all, in a way that
is tangible in how his cheeks ache after Hanbin makes him laugh so hard he can barely
breathe, real in how his heart seizes up as if the affection coursing through him is too much to
be contained in such a finite organ every time Hanbin so much as looks his way.

“Don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Kuanjui teases.

Zhang Hao spots Hanbin waving at him from the back stoop of Ricky’s home. He must have
freed their car from the gridlock of the driveway. He turns back to Kuanjui, indignant and
smug, “You’ll never catch me disagreeing that Hanbin is very pretty.”

He runs off before Kuanjui can give him any more shit, hurrying back to Hanbin’s side so the
two of them can get out of here immediately. Hanbin holds out his hand as Zhang Hao
stumbles up the porch steps.

“How much did you drink tonight?” Hanbin giggles, allowing Zhang Hao to cling to him as
they walk around the side of the house to the car now parked on the curb.

“You were the one who gave them to me,” Zhang Hao accuses with a whine. “You were just
trying to get me drunk so I’d go home with you.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” Hanbin jokes, neatly tucking him into the passenger side of the
car.

Zhang Hao sobers up a little on the ride home, humming to the latest releases playing low
through the speakers, chatting with Hanbin about the people they saw tonight. But as the
slightly woozy and floaty feeling of being buzzed off champagne fades away, something else
slinks to the forefront. A curling heat that trickles its way down from his cheeks to his chest
and then lower — it manifests in the slight shuffle of his legs, his wandering fingers along
Hanbin’s forearm, the tilt of his head and body toward him. What had been an enticing and
anticipatory simmer throughout the entire night has boiled into a viscous concoction of
longing and need.

And based on the high spots of color made even more stark by the fluorescent lights of the
parking garage on Hanbin’s cheek, that same keen desire is thrumming through him, too. The
two of them barely make it in the door before Hanbin is turning, whimpering barely
discernible noises that sound something like a jumble of kiss me and please — whatever it is,
Zhang Hao is more than happy to oblige.

The first thing he does is take Hanbin’s hat off, dropping it somewhere in the entryway that
he forgets about immediately under the onslaught of Hanbin’s kiss. He had long ago confided
in Zhang Hao that his ears and tail are hypersensitive like this.

It’d been a mumbled sort of confession sometime during those murky and vague months
where they had still been too nervous to give in to their desires, too cautious to risk doing
something selfish. But it had been just the right amount of temptation to strike at Zhang
Hao’s spoiled and stubborn streak. If he thinks hard about it, everything had started to
unravel from that unintentional challenge.

Though the pitiful whines that Hanbin presses against his lips, jaw, cheek, and all down his
neck makes tracing the origins of their debauchery a little too complicated at the moment.
The scrape of Hanbin’s teeth, incisors just on the side of too sharp, against the smooth
column of his neck floods his brain with nothing but white hot desire.

Their kiss loses its desperate edge as they linger in the doorway, and Zhang Hao loves it like
this, when it becomes a slow exploration and unhurried dance of sorts — where Hanbin tugs
him closer and he can feel every slow breath against his lips and the constant pounding
against his chest like their hearts are trying to reach each other through thin cotton and
insignificant flesh. His hands thread in Hanbin’s hair, travel up his ears to rub at the soft
velvet of them, enjoying the faint mewls and eager hands that explore him in turn.

He chases Hanbin’s lips all the way to the bedroom, losing his shoes and pants somewhere
along the way, gaining the bite of Hanbin’s hands around his waist where his belt used to be.
Hanbin nips his lower lip, stirring that familiar frenzy for just a moment before he pulls away
to divest Zhang Hao of his crop sweater. And now that they’ve parted, Zhang Hao also takes
this chance to unhook Hanbin’s overalls. They’re big enough that as soon as the buckles are
undone, they drop to the floor — and Zhang Hao nearly with them when he sees Hanbin
already half hard.

“You weren’t wearing any underwear?” His voice is high and thin.

“It’s more comfortable for my tail,” Hanbin explains innocently, though the way he twists to
show off his white and gray tail tells Zhang Hao he’s doing it on purpose.
It’s nearly impossible for Zhang Hao to resist such a blatant invitation to touch, and so he
doesn’t. Reaching out to clasp it loosely in his palm at the base, he lets his hand slowly trail
all the way up to the tip. The silky fur makes the glide smooth, and it elicits a full body
shudder from Hanbin.

“Your ears are going crazy,” Zhang Hao teases. It’s always so easy to tell Hanbin’s mood just
by the slight changes in its tilt and angle — something Zhang Hao learned how to read far
before Hanbin was able to talk. They flick back and forth as Zhang Hao caresses Hanbin’s
tail, and he can’t resist reaching for them, too. He barely gets one rub in before Hanbin’s lips
are back on his.

The arousal zipping between them has reached another crest after the brief lull, and Zhang
Hao is more than happy to ride it as they tumble back on the bed. They land with Hanbin on
his back, knees bracketing Zhang Hao’s hip and thighs as he leans over him. He swallows
Hanbin’s shallow breaths, as he continues to curl his fingers around his ears. Every brush of
his fingers against the soft fur translates to the hitch of Hanbin’s chest and the tightening of
his knees around Zhang Hao’s hip. He feels him arching beneath him, hips coming up to
grind the two of them together. Hanbin is so, so eager and closer beneath him, and yet—

“Stop,” Hanbin moans, tilting his head back so their lips disconnect with a slick sound.

Zhang Hao can follow directions well — only when he wants to. So he allows Hanbin a bit of
reprieve, shifting his fingers to his hair instead, carding his hand through the silky strands
slowly. “Too much?” he murmurs sweetly against Hanbin’s puffy lips.

It’s also in his own interest to slow down. Zhang Hao doesn’t want this to be over too fast;
that had been a problem early on, an endearing, flattering, unfortunately all too arousing
problem. Messy, too, but when just a couple thrusts and a hand circled around his tail was
enough for Hanbin to come all over himself, rosy-cheeked and panting, well, Zhang Hao
could only take it for the compliment it was. Tonight though, he’s greedy. The wait too
lengthy for it to be over so fast.

He gets a sound that’s half whimper and half meow as Hanbin litters quick kisses along his
cheeks. Zhang Hao loves the peaks and shallows of their coupling, how Hanbin’s grip can be
near bruising and his knees so, so tight around Zhang Hao’s hips one moment, and then the
other they’re gently exploring with their hands and Hanbin is giggling as Zhang Hao blows a
puff of air into his ear.

“Stop, please,” he entreats again, soft and sweet.

Zhang Hao backs off once more with playful eyes and a cheshire grin. He leans over to place
a wet kiss on Hanbin’s cheek, and Hanbin’s tail curls along his calf in a warm brush. Zhang
Hao reaches over into their bedside drawer for the lube and then shuffles himself even closer,
so Hanbin’s legs are completely pushed apart and resting on either side of his thighs. He
kneels over him, spoiled for choice.

And it’s so cute, how Hanbin was asking him to slow down before, but now squirms in
impatience as he draws his gaze over him from head to toe.
“What do you want tonight?” Hanbin reaches up to cradle Zhang Hao’s cheek, eager to
please.

Zhang Hao simply can’t resist, and there’s no reason to hold back, not when anticipation
winds itself around his spine and Hanbin squirms underneath him. “I want everything,” he
murmurs, turning his head slightly to kiss Hanbin’s palm before he places it back down over
his chest. Hanbin’s hand trembles slightly, knowing exactly what he means. “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Hanbin stumbles over the end of Zhang Hao’s question to assure. “Whatever
you want.”

“You’re going to have to hold out for a long time,” Zhang Hao grins wickedly, not apologetic
at all. He reaches over for a pillow, tapping Hanbin’s hips to get him to raise them a little
before slipping it under him just below his tail.

Hanbin nods adorably, so amiable and so well-behaved, just for him.

It didn’t help at first, that Zhang Hao was used to being the ones calling the shots — based on
both his occasional flings in college, but also the roles that they fall into naturally between
the two of them. Perhaps it was that same spoiled and stubborn streak, but Zhang Hao can’t
stand not getting what he wants. And Hanbin is more than happy to please him; and in turn
he was more than happy to be pleased, any which way Zhang Hao wants.

But over the years he’s watched Hanbin completely bloom, in a myriad of ways. Becoming
more vocal, becoming more assertive. And teaching Zhang Hao things as well, including on
one tipsy night when he was being particularly bossy and bratty and difficult and Hanbin
pushed him down and splayed his hand across his lower back and took whatever he wanted
from him. It had been a vision-blurring, mind-numbing sort of revelation: that he,
paradoxically, loves relinquishing control, that he also loves being taken care of. It probably
started from the moment he opened his eyes, sick beyond belief with Hanbin waiting for him
with a home-cooked meal.

So it’s impossible to choose: taking whatever he wants, giving Hanbin everything. It’s a good
thing he’s learned many things about Hanbin, too. First and foremost of which is that those
two options aren’t mutually exclusive. They’re actually quite the same thing. Their desires
overlap like a perfect eclipse, throwing everything else so many millions of miles below their
orbit into even more obscure darkness. It’s just the sun and the moon.

Zhang Hao leans down to kiss him, just a brief brush of lips. It’s gentle and unhurried. One of
the most important things he’s learned: the shape of Hanbin. But he doesn’t mind learning
him over and over again. Hanbin tries to press upwards, to chase his lips, but Zhang Hao
makes sure to keep himself just out of reach, enough that their kiss is light and airy.

A small click echoes in the otherwise silent room, and Hanbin tenses below him — another
pavlovian response. Zhang Hao rubs his fingers together, warming the lube slightly, teasing
out the tension, playing it to its final tune. He feels the press of Hanbin’s knees against the
outside of his thighs, urging him on silently, but Zhang Hao doesn’t do much more than let
him continue kissing him sweetly.
He trails reverent, open-mouthed kisses down the stretch of Hanbin’s throat, around his
collarbones. Zhang Hao takes his time there, working in little nips with his teeth, biting down
right on the bone at the same time he slips a finger into himself. He feels Hanbin jolt
underneath him at the muted squelch. His half-lidded eyes open up again, dark and wide as
he looks down at him. Their gazes clash as Zhang Hao closes lips, teeth, tongue over one of
Hanbin’s sensitive nipples. He’s rewarded with a sharp gasp, chased with a low whine. He
adds a second finger.

As he slowly works himself open, he gives Hanbin’s chest all the attention it deserves — and
maybe a little more, a bit of payback for being just out of reach all night. Hanbin is properly
writhing underneath him now, hips shifting against the comforter, knees drawing up and
down Zhang Hao’s thighs. His hands clutch at the sheets until Zhang Hao shifts over to the
other side and he feels rough fingers tugging on the hair at the base of his skull. The skin of
Hanbin’s chest is littered with patches of red and lingering teeth marks by the time Zhang
Hao slips a third finger in. He starts rocking back, just slightly, and is surprised at the brush
of fur along the back of his thighs.

“Mm?” Zhang Hao hums. “Bingbing, you want to help?”

“Yes,” Hanbin pants. He lets go of Zhang Hao’s hair to reach for his hip — just barely out of
reach. “Come closer,” he whines. “Let me.”

“Your tail will get wet if you keep doing that,” Zhang Hao reprimands, feeling another brush
against his thighs and the back of his hand. He pushes his fingers in again, curling them in a
way that makes an obscene sound.

“I don’t care,” Hanbin whimpers, flicking his tail again, closer and closer to Zhang Hao’s
hand and hole, messy with lube. Zhang Hao clenches down hard, unable to stop the quiet
moan that slips out. Hanbin’s smile stretches wide, thoroughly enjoying the view of Zhang
Hao fucking himself above him.

“Fine, fine,” Zhang Hao pulls his fingers out — this should be enough. “You’re so impatient,
Bingbing. You want to help?”

He reaches around to take Hanbin in hand, a self-satisfied and smug thrill running through
him when he finds him fully hard. Zhang Hao smooths his thumb over the tip with a well-
practiced move and watches Hanbin throw his head back, eyes closing completely as he lets
out a hoarse groan. “Hao— Hao, please,” he begs.

So cute, Zhang Hao thinks, rotating his wrist and watching the way Hanbin tenses. “You can’t
already be close,” Zhang Hao says, even if the proof of it is right there in his palm. He twists
his fingers over and over, as he watches Hanbin’s marked chest rise and fall in quick pants, as
his face screws up all red and round. Adorable. He sees the familiar tremble in Hanbin’s
thighs and slows down his movement until his thumb is just tapping against the tacky precum
drooling from the tip. His hand is entirely wet, a mix of the lube and Hanbin.

“Don’t come yet, baby,” Zhang Hao chides. “I didn’t prep myself for nothing. Don’t you
want to come in me?”
Hanbin inhales sharply, “I do, I do.” His thighs are clamping down so hard that Zhang Hao
thinks his hips will bruise just like this.

“That’s good,” Zhang Hao coos, pleased. “Because you’re going to let me fuck you first.”

Hanbin squeaks, eagerness and surprise flash across his features as Zhang Hao draws his
thumb over his slit one last time before tracing down to his perineum. Zhang Hao takes his
time working Hanbin open, keeping his thighs parted even as they threaten to clamp closed,
even as he cants his hips as if he can’t quite decide if he’s trying to run away or fuck himself
even harder on Zhang Hao’s fingers.

His pretty kitty flushed and wanting beneath him is a sight to behold. And Zhang Hao is
suddenly overcome by the rapid beating of his own heart, by the slight pressure in his throat,
by how entirely precious and lovely Hanbin is. His heart races, jumps as if wanting to protest
its own submission. Little does it know, it’s too late. He leans down to kiss him again, to step
the rising tide of emotion building in his chest. He lets Hanbin take out his frustration and
ardor on his lips.

He could spend all night doing this, gorging himself on Hanbin, indulging in every soft
whimper and uncontrollable twitch of his hips. Zhang Hao loses track of time, only knowing
that his lips start to tingle, start to hurt for how raw they’ve been kissed by the time he pulls
back. And oh, Hanbin is a mess beneath him, eyes brimming with unshed tears, lips just as
puffy and red, his stomach actually trembling from Zhang Hao’s ministrations. And it’s too
tempting for Zhang Hao to not reach out and rub against his pink-tipped chest. Hanbin cries
out, a gargle of words and meows.

“Look at you, baby,” Zhang Hao whispers in awe. “Too much?”

Hanbin shakes his head emphatically.

“What was that?” He pinches lightly at a red patch on the upper swell of Hanbin’s chest.

“No, not too much.”

“So polite,” Zhang Hao grins. “You’re just saying that because you want me to fuck you.”

“Of course I am,” Hanbin retorts blithely.

Zhang Hao laughs. “If I do, you have to promise not to come, hm?” He curls his finger right
against where he knows Hanbin's prostate is, satisfied when Hanbin’s mouth falls slack and
his ears swivel forward.

Hanbin nods, letting out a pitiful little whine.

He can’t resist, “Cat got your tongue?” Zhang Hao derives great pleasure from rendering
Hanbin completely speechless. He basks in it for a moment before pulling out his fingers,
wiping them messily on the sheets — which they’ll have to do in the morning.

“Shh,” Zhang Hao soothes, when Hanbin wiggles around and mewls again. He smooths his
hands up Hanbin’s calves and over his knees, draws back a little so he can turn Hanbin onto
his side. He gets another protesting little mreow for it in return. “You’re going to sit in my
lap, baby. Don’t you love that the most?”

Zhang Hao stretches himself over the sheets next to Hanbin, hand trailing up his side in a
depraved imitation of the way he pets him as a cat. He reaches back down for his leg, moving
it back and hitching it over his own, so Hanbin arches back perfectly onto him. His
movements are slow and sweet, making sure to pet over Hanbin’s shoulder, hair, ears with his
other hand. Predictably, Hanbin snuggles back into him and starts to purr. God, this is Zhang
Hao’s favorite part. The sound vibrates through his chest, plastered against Hanbin’s back,
and he reaches down to position himself against Hanbin’s sensitive rim.

“Yes,” Hanbin breathes, having found his voice it seems, as thin and reedy and breathy as it
is. “Yes, yes, please, fuck me.”

“Remember your promise,” Zhang Hao reminds, shifting his hip slightly and guiding himself
in a firm, steady slide all the way to the hilt. Zhang Hao buries a moan into the back of
Hanbin’s neck.

It’s not wild or hurried. There’s no rush, not when the most wonderful kitty is sitting right on
his lap, when every grind of their hips elicits a sweet gasp, when Zhang Hao is able to get his
fill of running his hand along Hanbin’s tail; or tracing the dips of his ribs, feeling the slight
trembles there as Hanbin takes him so well; or trailing his nails over his chest, knowing it’s
already so over sensitive.

Zhang Hao rotates his hips in small, slow circles, making sure to miss Hanbin’s prostate by
just a hair each time. Soon, one hand isn’t enough, and he slowly turns them on their backs,
propping himself up with pillows piled against the headboard so both of his hands can pet all
over Hanbin. His fingers dig into the upper swell of Hanbin’s chest, earning him a full-
throated groan.

One of Hanbin’s hands reaches up, open and grasping; Zhang Hao interlaces their fingers
together. It’s a languorous and heady coupling, and Zhang Hao revels in the warm weight of
Hanbin over him. He feels completely at ease and relaxed, and yet there’s a delicious pressure
at the base of his spine, gathering between his legs that warms him up from within.

“Close?” he murmurs, nuzzling against Hanbin’s ears.

“I’m okay,” Hanbin says. He’s completely replete, weight fulling resting against him. Apart
from the steady mewls and slight whimpers, Zhang Hao might have thought Hanbin had
fallen asleep.

“Then maybe I’m not doing enough.” Zhang Hao punctuates his words with a snap of his
hips — the first hard thrust of the night.

Hanbin cries out suddenly, grinding down on him, chasing the faster rhythm that it suggests.
But Zhang Hao doesn’t let him get carried away. He slows his movements again, reaching
down to grab the base of Hanbin’s cock in a tight hold. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh,
you’re leaking a lot, Bingbing. Just from that?”
“It feels so good, so, so good.” His words come out a tangled mumble, and Zhang Hao feels a
rush of pride at how mindless and sated he’s already made him.

“Look at you all flushed and pretty. I love seeing you laid out like this — just for me.”

“For you,” Hanbin slurs, repeating after him.

He giggles. “Are you okay, baby? Shall we take a break?”

“No,” Hanbin whines, tossing his head. He turns so he can stare with glossy, round eyes up at
Zhang Hao. “Please keep going. I want you to come inside.”

Zhang Hao mutters a curse, placing a quick kiss on Hanbin’s ruby cheek. “It won’t take very
long if you keep looking at me like that.”

Hanbin bats his pretty, long lashes, and Zhang Hao is so dazzled he slips up, thrusting right
against Hanbin’s prostate. Liquid dribbles down onto his fingers, and he tightens his hold
around Hanbin. “Sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to.”

But already, Hanbin is whining, begging, a mix of please and in me stuttering past his pink
lips. When Zhang Hao starts rolling his hips again, more measured this time, Hanbin
clenches down, hard. “Faster, please— you can move. I can take it.”

“We both know what will happen if I do,” Zhang Hao murmurs. “There’s no rush, baby.
You’ll get everything you want.” And perhaps he sounds a bit more confident, a bit more put
together than he’s feeling, because as Hanbin squeezes down on him, Zhang Hao feels
himself craving just a little more. Just something to push him right over the edge.

He lets go of Hanbin’s hand, pressing a kiss to his sweaty hair when Hanbin simply moves to
grip at his hip. He skims his hand over Hanbin’s chest — which must be nearing pain after all
of his attention — and down across the plane of his stomach. He loves the smooth feel of
Hanbin’s skin, he loves how warm he feels under his palm, draped overtop him like this, he
loves that he can feel the faint quiver in his belly and the expansion of his ribs as he moves
his hand even lower over the inner seam of his thigh. He gets an adorably confused sound
and the pleasure of Hanbin flicking his tail against his side as he inches his fingers lower still.

“What are you—” Hanbin starts to ask, which quickly fades into a high cry, when Zhang Hao
traces Hanbin’s rim — still stretched around him — with a light finger.

“Is this okay?” he asks gently. He kisses the tender skin at Hanbin’s temple. “If you don’t
think you can handle it, we don’t have to.”

“I can,” Hanbin says, quick and needy, back arching as if wanting to push himself even
further on Zhang Hao’s cock despite already being filled all the way. “I— god, it’ll feel so
good, please, yes.”

And that’s more than enough encouragement for Zhang Hao. His heart pounds as he traces
Hanbin’s rim a few more times, pushing and testing gently. Hanbin has already dissolved into
a trembling mess above him, the hand that he’s still holding growing lax even as he feels his
legs tense above him.

Zhang Hao eases the first finger in slowly, not wanting to hurt him. And the added pressure
has black spots dancing in front of his vision, has him throwing his head back on a long
moan. It’s so damn tight — and Zhang Hao can feel Hanbin all around him, the warm heat of
him, the way he stretches and clenches down. Zhang Hao curses, groans, works his finger in
up to the knuckle and has to stop because he genuinely thinks he’s going to black out from
how good it feels.

In his distraction, he’d accidentally loosened his hold on Hanbin’s cock — just enough for
him to be able to fuck up into the circle of his fingers. He quickly lets go, denying him that
friction, even as a second finger slips in along with the first. Hanbin whimpers above him, a
long continuous sound only punctuated by gasps of air.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Zhang Hao groans. Though it seems like he’s fucked all coherent
thought out of Hanbin once again because the only answer he gets are high-pitched whines
and keening mewls as he pumps his fingers in and out. “You feel so good, baby. Do you think
you can take three?”

“Yes— ah, I want more,” he mumbles. Hanbin’s eyes are closed and his head is thrown back
and lying on Zhang Hao’s shoulder, and he can’t resist leaning down to nibble along Hanbin’s
jaw, kiss along his round cheeks, slip his tongue into his open and crying mouth. If Hanbin
wants it, then he’ll fill him up completely, everywhere.

His third finger goes in, gradually like the rest, and he swallows Hanbin’s moan, feeding his
own back to him once all three are in. The fit is so tight and it doesn’t help that Hanbin has
started squirming. He feels his own fingers pressing against his cock, and the slick sounds of
them pumping in and out completely overwhelms Zhang Hao’s senses. He exists in this
moment only in relation to Hanbin: by the heavy drape of Hanbin over him, by the continued
meows and pleases and mores that become the only words he knows, by the feeling of
Hanbin surrounding him completely, giving him more than ‘just a little more’, giving him
everything.

“Come, come, come, in me, in me, please,” Hanbin begs, too fucked out to even properly
kiss anymore, simply resting his lips against Zhang Hao’s jaw. “I’m too close. I won’t be able
to hold out.”

Zhang Hao peers over Hanbin’s shoulder to see how red and swollen Hanbin’s cock is,
bouncing eagerly with every rapid thrust of his fingers. He’s so hard — it makes Zhang Hao’s
mouth water, it makes him clench around nothing, knowing what’s to come. But only if
Hanbin behaves.

“I’ll be very upset if you’re not able to fuck me, Bingbing,” he cautions, half meaning it. It’ll
be a disappointment, but it may just be worth it to see Hanbin coming untouched, simply
from his hole being stretched to its limits. In this way, too, Zhang Hao is glad he doesn’t have
to choose.

“Hold— stop me—” Hanbin stutters.

Zhang Hao returns his other hand, previously in a bruising hold on Hanbin’s hip, to grasp the
base of his cock. “I’ve got you,” Zhang Hao murmurs, watching as a clear liquid starts to
seep from the tip. “You know you can’t come yet right? You want to fuck me with my cum in
your ass, don’t you?”

“Yes, I want— I want to come in you, too,” Hanbin sobs as Zhang Hao speeds up his fingers,
as he starts grinding up as well.

“I’m, ah, close," Zhang Hao promises. “Just a little more, Bingbing.”

And with one more push, his three fingers in all the way to his knuckles — the built up
tension snaps. He comes and comes and comes, and Hanbin is so stuffed full he actually feels
his cum seeping out between his fingers, sliding down his palm. “Fuck. Fuck, that was so
good. You were so good, Bingbing. I love you so much. Look at you, filled to the brim,” he
babbles, feeling lightheaded and woozy and trembling from the waist down.

Hanbin makes a pleased chirrup noise, his entire body melting, draping itself flagrantly on
top of him, despite still being painfully hard in Zhang Hao’s grip. He loosens his hold, and it
takes Zhang Hao a moment to come back down, for the darkness on the edge of his vision to
fade and for the bleary, pleasure-soaked cotton to clear from his mind. He slowly pulls out of
Hanbin, careful not to hurt him.

“Did you come?” Zhang Hao asks sweetly. “It’s okay if you did.”

“No,” Hanbin says instantly, something determined and proud lighting up behind his bright
eyes. “No, I want to fuck you.”

“Good boy. You’ve been waiting so patiently for it, huh?” Zhang Hao teases.

“Yes, please, I want to, so much. Can I?”

“Always so polite,” Zhang Hao grins. “Of course you can. Though I definitely didn’t think
this through. I don’t think I can move at all right now.” His thighs feel like complete mush,
and he just knows his back is going to ache tomorrow.

“You don’t have to,” Hanbin reassures. “Let me do everything.”

“How considerate. Let me remind you, I prepped myself,” Zhang Hao drawls, though this is
exactly what he wanted, basking in his post-orgasm haze, letting Hanbin do whatever he
wants with his body, watching Hanbin chase his own pleasure above him.

“Mmm, maybe you’re onto something there,” Hanbin says coyly, slowly turning around and
kneeling above him, their positions reversed.

“Hm?” Zhang Hao mumbles, not knowing what Hanbin means until Hanbin reaches for his
sticky, wet hand.

“Here first,” Hanbin murmurs, guiding Zhang Hao’s hand to curl around him, pumping their
joint grip a couple times.
Zhang Hao stares blankly for a moment, before he registers the hot glide of Hanbin in his
grip — how smooth it is. He mutters out a curse and a prayer when he realizes Hanbin means
to use his cum as lube. If he hadn’t just had one of the most mind-blowing orgasms of his
life, Zhang Hao had no doubt he would be half-hard again.

But, of course, it gets worse. After gathering more of his own tacky, clear precum, Hanbin
shuffles forward and gently guides Zhang Hao’s hand even lower.

“Fuck,” Zhang Hao slurs when his fingers reach Hanbin’s hole, intimately familiar with it.
“Fuck.” It seems to be the only word he’s capable of saying anymore as he feels a gush of
wetness against the tip of his fingers.

“Ge really came so much — I’m dripping,” Hanbin says all syrupy sweet, his eyes
completely flooded dark.

Zhang Hao’s mind goes completely blank when Hanbin moves his hand again.

“Two fingers,” Hanbin requests, eagerly watching Zhang Hao raise the two that he asked for,
now prodding against his own rim. “I want to make sure you’re properly stretched.”

It’s completely unnecessary, it’s completely obscene. But Zhang Hao still allows Hanbin to
slowly move his fingers into himself. And it makes him so dizzy knowing that it’s a
combination of the both of them that’s going in him. He shudders, his stomach spasming as
Hanbin keeps going until he’s buried all the way. Zhang Hao feels completely out of his mind
as Hanbin slowly fucks him with his own fingers. This is already too much. “I’m stretched,
baby,” he promises. “Please just fuck me. Weren’t you so desperate before?”

“That’s because you were making me feel so good,” Hanbin coos. “But now I want to make
you feel good, too.”

“I’m not the one who hasn’t come yet, Bin,” Zhang Hao reminds him. “It’s your turn.”

“You’re just full of good points tonight,” Hanbin demures, his grin so big that Zhang Hao can
see the whisker lines indenting his cheeks. God, he’s so pretty. “If you insist.”

He pulls Zhang Hao’s hand out, taking his time. He gathers both of them and folds them
neatly over his head, pressing down on them lightly — and Zhang Hao knows that means he
wants him to keep them there for now. He’s content to lie all stretched out for his kitty. The
lethargy from his orgasm before wars with the rising tension of seeing Hanbin looming over
him. It’s a delectable contrast that just might make Zhang Hao lose his mind.

Hanbin presses a gentle smattering of kisses over his face. It makes Zhang Hao giggle, how
precious Hanbin is being with him when he’d just forced him to take a cock and three fingers
at the same time. But then again, this is what he wanted, to be made to feel adored, to be
taken care of. Zhang Hao can’t keep the tender, fond smile off his face as he watches Hanbin
lift both of his legs — deadweight at this point — up. The two of them laugh as they flop
down as soon as Hanbin lets go.

“I told you; I’m completely useless now,” Zhang Hao complains.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hanbin giggles. “I’ll hold them for you, love.”

I’ll hold them for you, love. It’s easy and innocuous and simply used as a means of allowing
Hanbin to line himself up, for him to lean forward into Zhang Hao’s space, for him to stretch
him wide open with his thick cock, but the complete contentment and surety that those few
words bring to Zhang Hao, knowing he can rely on Hanbin to hold them up for him, they
come to represent everything else that he can entrust to him, his love, his life, his
wholehearted trust.

If Zhang Hao expected this to be hard and fast, then he would have been wrong. Because it’s
just as sensuous and slow and sweet as his own fucking. Hanbin leans up to kiss him even
though at this point both of their lips are red and raw, but Zhang Hao doesn’t complain,
mouth slipping against petal-perfect lips, giving himself to Hanbin completely. He lets him
set the pace, and even when Hanbin takes him in hand and he’s still too sensitive and it’s too
much, Zhang Hao doesn’t complain. He lets Hanbin do everything and anything he wants.

“I’m close; I’m so close,” Hanbin whispers against his cheek.

“God, yes,” Zhang Hao encourages, eager, longing, ravenous. “I want all of you.”

“Me too,” he murmurs. And then he gives Zhang Hao just that, aiming right at Zhang Hao’s
prostate with one last, lazy thrust, hips twitching as he finally, finally fills him up.

──────

Hanbin wakes up some time later — the last thing he remembers is slipping out of Zhang
Hao, planting kisses all over his neck and shoulders before promptly dropping off the edge
into oblivion. Zhang Hao is still snuggled up next to him, and Hanbin notices the slight
goosebumps along his arm; he must be cold. He shuffles a little, sitting up to check the time
(2:33 a.m.) and move the blankets over his boyfriend. But the sheets are messy, still slightly
damp and extremely gross now that he’s out of his lust-induced haze.

He debates internally for a moment, knowing Zhang Hao will grumble and be annoyed if he’s
woken up now, but also knowing he’ll be even more irritable having to clean up in the
morning. Besides, Hanbin would prefer to sleep in late on a clean bed rather than wake up to
chores. His decision made, Hanbin slips out of bed, smiling fondly as Zhang Hao simply rolls
over into the warm space he’s vacated, still snoring. Hanbin resists the urge to place a kiss on
the tip of his nose, not wanting to wake him yet.

The apartment is dark and quiet, the remainder of their card game before they went to Ricky’s
place still scattered around the living room table; dishes from lunch still in the rack by the
sink waiting for them to put them back in the cupboard; both of their house slippers and his
baseball cap scattered by the entryway. Hanbin warms at all the small signs of their life
together on his way to the bathroom.
There are barely any cat items around the house now. His automatic feeder and water
fountain long ago sold off — actually, for a fairly good price, enough to cover the costs of his
simple wardrobe. Many of his cat toys, that don’t include the few that Zhang Hao still
indulges him in or aren’t plushies, have also been packed into a box at the bottom of their
closet. The last thing to go had been his cat wheel — something Hanbin had been loath to get
rid of because he enjoyed it so much. But the reality of it was that he rarely turns into a cat
anymore, only on the occasions where Zhang Hao is working overtime and he desperately
wants to crawl into his sweater and curl up for a nap, and even those moments are few and far
between because it’s much easier to just throw a leg over Zhang Hao and forcibly distract
him from work that way. His wheel just simply hadn’t been getting much use.

They’d had a big argument about it at first, getting rid of all his stuff. When Zhang hao had
broached the topic of ‘cleaning up a bit,’ Hanbin had seen it as him pushing him out, or
worse yet, not accepting the parts of him that were still a cat. It hurt that the items he
treasured because Zhang Hao had bought them for him were considered clutter around the
house. They’d disagreed and fought and Hanbin had cried, but they had also talked and
compromised and Zhang Hao had reassured him how much his things mattered and how
much he matters and how he could be a cat as much as he wanted, but that maybe he would
also like some things that he could use as a human.

His cat wheel had been replaced with a treadmill in the same corner of the apartment, one
that Hanbin enjoys using a lot — one that Zhang Hao loves watching him use. Zhang Hao
also cleared out some of his things — old knick knacks and over half his closet — to make
room for everything else he’d get Hanbin. Hanbin got a phone. And after a couple years,
Hanbin got a car (a very scary development according to Zhang Hao). And Hanbin also
realized that it wasn’t so much the things itself that he was attached to, only the care and
comfort of knowing Zhang Hao was the one to provide them for him, simply because he
wanted them, liked them.

Hanbin turns on the shower, making sure the dials are set to the perfect temperature — a little
too hot for him, but just right for Zhang Hao — and sticks his hand under the shower to
confirm that the water is fully warm before making his way back to the bedroom. Zhang Hao
has curled up fully on Hanbin’s side of the bed now with the blanket pulled up over his
shoulders. Gently, Hanbin pulls it off of him, and then he bends — not without a slight wince
at the soreness in his hips — and scoops him up into his arms. Zhang Hao’s eyes flutter open
then, though he doesn’t seem to be entirely too surprised to be held aloft on their way to the
bathroom. “Bingbing?” he mumbles. “Shower?”

“Mm, we should get cleaned up.”

“What time is it?”

“Nearly three.”

Zhang Hao groans. “Can’t we do it in the morning?”

“You know you’ll only complain even more then,” Hanbin laughs good-naturedly. Zhang
Hao, naturally, has nothing to say to that because he knows it’s the truth as well. “Don’t
worry; I’ll do all the cleaning.”
“No,” Zhang Hao protests. “I’ll clean you, too.”

“No,” Hanbin contradicts gently. “It’s okay.”

“Then I’ll brush your tail tomorrow,” Zhang Hao counters.

“That sounds perfect.” He wouldn’t give up a good tail brushing for the world.

The mirror is already all fogged up and steam hangs heavy in the air when they enter the
bathroom. Hanbin is glad that it’s so warm now, because Zhang Hao practically melts when
hit with the wall of heat as he steps into the shower. Hanbin holds him in there for a while,
simply letting the hot water run over the two of them, content to watch the way water gathers
around Zhang Hao’s waist, the way he tilts his head this way and that, working out an
invisible kink in his neck.

Eventually, Zhang Hao pats at his arm for Hanbin to put him down. And this routine isn’t one
that’s new to them — Hanbin makes quick work of lathering up Zhang Hao’s hair before
cleaning him out, and then himself. Contrary to what they agreed on, Zhang Hao makes
Hanbin turn so he can also wash his hair after, careful to keep water and soup out of his
upturned ears. Hanbin doesn’t even realize he’s purring until Zhang Hao places his ear
against his back. He can feel the push of his cheek, of his smile. I just love knowing you’re so
happy, Bin, Zhang Hao had once told him. Hanbin smiles as well.

When they get out of the shower, Hanbin wraps Zhang Hao up in his robe before bending to
pick him up again. But Zhang Hao waves him off.

“I can walk, baby,” he laughs. “I know you must be sore, too, probably more than me.”

He is a bit sore; now that the hot shower has also loosened up his muscles, it’s made him
more aware of the twinges in his thighs and lower back.

Zhang Hao is watching him slowly, and he smiles as he pulls out of the blow dryer. “I’ll
massage you tomorrow, too.”

“I would love that,” Hanbin beams.

Hanbin crowds Zhang Hao all the way from the bathroom to their room, like a cat sticking to
the heels of its owner. At one point their feet get tangled, and Zhang Hao pretends to act
annoyed before reaching for Hanbin’s hand and dragging him the rest of the way into their
room.

They make quick work of removing the sheets, and by the time new ones are on, Hanbin
feels sleep pulling at his eyelids. He all but tumbles into bed, snuggling right up against
Zhang Hao’s side. It’s the same position they’ve slept in for years, even before Hanbin turned
human: his head on Zhang Hao’s arm, his hand against Zhang Hao’s chest, his nose tucked
right up against his neck. Hanbin falls asleep in the most comfortable position in the world,
with his favorite person in the world — like he will for many, many more years to come.
End Notes

am glad to report that hanbin still kneads and make biscuits on hao's ass even as a human

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