“Now, remember everybody, when we walk through the door, just act natural,” Dongmyeong whispers, frowning so that the full impact of his words will sink in. “It’s really important that we don’t make Yonghoon-hyung suspicious in any way.”
Next to him, Giwook snorts. “We’re in the elevator,” he points out, “you don’t have to whisper yet.”
Dongmyeong elbows him in the ribs and continues talking. “Harin-hyung and I will go first so I can shield Harin with my body,” he says. There’s a pause as everyone eyes him dubiously. He’d been working out, but there is no way his comparatively scrawnier frame could cover up Harin’s drummer muscles.
“It’s okay, Dongmyeong,” Harin says, bravely, “if he tries to stop me, I’ll just start running really fast for the bedroom." He's directing one of his soft smiles in Dongmyeong’s direction. It’s lovely and warm, and Dongmyeong could get lost in it for a couple of hours. But he needs to stay focused because he’s currently using their only shared braincell and surrounded by hopeless idiots.
“No, hyung, I’ll cover your body with my own, I promise,” he tells Harin, whose cheeks immediately redden. It must be the cold. Dongmyeong should have insisted Harin take his gloves when they were outside. Of course, fitted to Dongmyeong’s petite fingers, they could barely fit three of Harin’s massive digits, but it was the thought that counted.
Shoot, now he was thinking about Harin’s massive digits and distracted. Dongmyeong needed to FOCUS!
“Hyungu-hyung, Giwook, you follow after. Try to redirect his attention to yourself, especially if he’s mad,” Dongmyeong says, then takes a deep breath and puts his hand on Giwook’s shoulder. Giwook immediately grimaces. “And if worse comes to worst, you’re going to need to make the ultimate sacrifice.”
“No,” Giwook breathes, suddenly looking horrified. “No, I can’t do it. You can’t ask me to.”
“I’m afraid it’s come to this,” Dongmyeong says, gravely.
“No!” Giwook sobs softly, leaning into Hyungu’s comforting arm around his shoulder. “No!”
“When the time comes,” Dongmyeong says, as gently as he’s able. “You need to do aegyo for Yonghoon-hyung.”
Hyungu gasps and pulls Giwook closer to his side. Giwook weeps into his jeans jacket that’s totally inappropriate for the winter’s chill.
“It’s the only way,” Dongmyeong says softly. “Do a little bit of the Ottoke song, maybe some cat ears.”
“He didn’t seem to like the cat ears that much last time,” Hyungu breaks in worriedly, smoothing Giwook’s hair away from his face.
“That was because Youngjo-hyung did them,” Dongmyeong says dismissively. “It’ll work, trust me. Make sure you remember to call him Yonghoonie-hyung,” he lowers his voice, leaning in towards a frightened Giwook, to say, “and tell him you love him.”
Giwook whimpers. Dongmyeong leans back, satisfied about the sense of gravitas he’s imparted to their mission. He chances a look at Harin. He’s looking at the elevator doors, looking broody and lost in his thoughts. Gosh, he’s so handsome. Dongmyeong narrows his eyes determinedly. He cannot afford to be distracted right now when the mission is at a crucial stage.
The elevator door dings open. The faint stain of tteokbokki sauce on its edge has dried a rusty red, almost like blood.
“Showtime,” Dongmyeong says, and his voice doesn’t shake as he sets off across the hall at a brisk pace, the others following after him like lost ducklings.
It takes two tries to tap in the door code correctly, but that’s because Dongmyeong’s fingers are sweaty and slippery, and definitely not because he’s gay and bad at remembering numbers.
The door swings open with an ominous creak. They all barely have enough time to line their wet shoes in the entrance hall before Yonghoon comes skidding into the living room from the kitchen, his face pinched in an expression of worry and his eyes suspiciously bright.
“Where have you all been?” he shrieks, putting all of his vocal training to impressive use. “You left to get food an hour ago! I called you like a hundred times!”
Dongmyeong winces. His phone has been buzzing insistently for a while. “Hyung-” he tries, but Yonghoon is on a roll.
“There’s black ice on the roads! I thought you slipped somewhere and were dying in a ditch!” Yonghoon screeches, face turning a truly alarming shade of red. “I thought a car hit you and you were in the hospital! I thought you were kidnapped by the kid I beat in a singing competition as a teenager that I’m pretty sure is now in a gang!”
“Hyung-” Hyungu says, soft and calming, his leader voice, the one thing that can bring Yonghoon back to his senses. If anything, it seems to make him madder.
“I thought a dog got loose and bit you! I thought you got rabies!” Yonghoon says, eyes truly wild. “I thought you were hurt or dead, or that you went and left me alone .”
The words seem to echo in the chilling silence after Yonghoon’s outburst. Dongmyeong swallows around a dry throat. Yonghoon turns away from them, panting, choking on his breath like he’s trying not to cry.
“ Meow, ” Harin’s coat says.
You could hear a pin drop.
Slowly, not unlike the horror films, Dongmyeong can’t stand to watch, Yonghoon’s head swivels around.
“Harin-ah,” Yonghoon says softly, voice frighteningly calm. “Did your coat just meow?”
“Uh, no,” Harin says, his gorgeous dark eyes darting all over the place, looking for an escape. “Of course not, hyung.”
“ Meow, ” says his coat.
“Harin-ah,” Yonghoon says, tone cold enough to freeze the very air in the room. “Did your coat just meow again?”
“Uh,” Harin says, swallowing loudly, “uh. That was me, hyung. I was meowing.”
“You were meowing,” Yonghoon says flatly. There’s a wild look in his eyes. “Why were you meowing?”
“Uh,” Harin says. And that’s when Dongmyeong does the bravest thing he’s ever done in his life.
He steps in front of Harin, grabs his hand, and says the first thing that comes to his mind.
“Because we’re in love.”
“ What? ” Yonghoon hisses.
“Harin-hyung and I are in love,” Dongmyeong says, straightening his shoulders to meet Yonghoon’s eyes. Harin’s hand tightens around his, and he turns his palms to interlock their fingers. Dongmyeong’s lungs expand with pure light and warmth. “Hyung, we’re boyfriends and I hope you can support us.”
Granted, this is not exactly the way he planned on confessing his feelings to Harin but judging by the wide smile on Harin’s face it doesn’t really seem to matter. Harin’s thumb strokes across the back of Dongmyeong’s hand, and it makes his whole body shudder, adding to the warmth growing in his chest and sparkling down his bloodstream, chasing away the last of winter’s chill.
“O-oh,” Yonghoon stutters, looking between Harin’s smitten expression and Dongmyeong’s sparkling eyes, “I…yes, of course, I support you being in love. I love you both the way you are and the fact that you found love and joy in each other is one of the greatest gifts. I’ll stand behind you no matter what but honestly, that still doesn’t explain the meowing!”
“Harin-hyung meows when he’s truly happy!” Dongmyeong bluffs with the confidence of a man who has the whole world at his feet. Harin is looking at him so tenderly, so fondly, he feels like he could drown in the joy of it. “Have you never noticed?”
“I’ve never been happy like this before,” Harin says softly, dreamily, looking at him and Dongmyeong wants nothing more than to throw himself at him, to be held by his big capable drummer hands.
Yonghoon looks back and forth between them, speechless and slack-jawed as they gaze at each other longingly in the ensuing silence.
“I’m happy too,” Dongmyeong says, smiling so hard that his face hurts with it. “I’m so happy, Harin hyung!”
“ Meow, ” says Hyungu’s jacket.
Yonghoon’s stare pins Hyungu in place, all thoughts of love and support forgotten.
“Hyungu,” he says, deceptively calm. “Did you also just meow?”
“Uh,” Hyungu says. Yonghoon stares, his glare burning.
Giwook clears his throat and steps forward to grasp the tips of Hyungu’s fingers with a poorly hidden grimace.
“Well, you see, hyung, it’s like this,” he says, “Hyungu-hyung and I are in love-”
Several things happen in quick succession:
Silence. Absolute silence.
With a resigned sigh, Giwook puts his hands to his head, mimicking cat ears, and takes a deep breath.
“ Niga neomu joha ottoke ottoke… ”
*
Yonghoon allows the cats.
“I’ve never denied you a single thing you’ve ever asked me for,” he says, wiping his eyes after he’s forced Giwook to repeat the Ottoke Ottoke song for the third time, and they’ve all told him they loved him.
Yonghoon allows the cats, but they’re to stay in the room Harin now shares with Dongmyeong, or in Hyungu and Giwook’s room. They’re not allowed to wander the shared spaces freely and they’re definitely not allowed in his room. He’s not going to be the one who cleans their litter box, or buys their food, though he will give them water and food because he’s not a monster. He will absolutely not play with the cats, pet them, or interact with them in any way.
Almost a week later, Dongmyeong arrives home from piano lessons in the late afternoon. It’s a weird hour and everyone is still out, or so he thinks until he hears Yonghoon’s voice coming from his room.
Cautiously, he creeps down the hallway, peeking around the corner.
“...and seeing that yellow car among all the grey ones really made me think about how each of them has a person inside that’s unique, but only some of them will be brave enough to express it on the outside.” Yonghoon is lying on the bed, cautiously petting the black cat while the orange cat is curled up on his chest, purring furiously. He’s telling them all about his day. They gaze back at him with expressions that seem nothing less than adoring.
Dongmyeong should know - Harin looks at him like that.
Overwhelmed with fondness, he tiptoes back to the kitchen, leaving his hyung and his two new favorite dongsaengs to their quality time. Finally, there’s someone in the band who doesn’t mind listening to Yonghoon talk about his feelings.
He notices that there’s a new luxury cat toilet installed in the living room along with a two-tiered velvet-lined scratching post. The usually empty kitchen cabinets are filled with canned cat food. Dongmyeong rolls his eyes smiling to himself. There’s a beautifully crafted box of biscuits on the counter, and he opens it, marveling at the design. He pops one in his mouth.
It tastes like fish.