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Strands of asphalt extend out from the scalp of the city centre, gleaming under the unobstructed midsummer sun. They stretch further and further with each step you take—but, unfortunately, you have at least another ten thousand to go for today. Maybe you’ll die in these streets.
…Your imagination has a habit of running from you. Thankfully, a direct beam of sunlight snaps you out of this daydream.
The clouds have finally cleared a path in the sky, and unfiltered light hits you harder than any hangover ever has.
You've made a habit of keeping your mouth clean—surely abnormal for a young man of twenty-one-give-or-take-a-few-years—but an errant curse slips out of you.
Jeong Siwoo, your sole companion, shoots you a sideways glance, his lip twitching.
“Is it that bad?”
With his tight jean shorts and flowing t-shirt, how could he even begin to understand the depths of your pain?
“Hyung,” you say, each breath warmer than the last, “I think… my organs have become one...”
“What?”
“It’s… like ice cream, hyung. It’s all melted…”
“Hajin. It’s just a heatwave.”
“It’s a deathwave…”
“That must be a genre of music, right?” Voice trembling halfway through, Jeong Siwoo clears his throat elegantly and avoids your eyes.
Your jean-clad legs rub against each other with each step; the noise carries on in the background, an ominous melody in the soundtrack of your life that hints at all of the mistakes you’ve ever made. Today, it was trusting Lee Yugeon to style you for once.
Even knowing that he must be miserable in his black cargo pants, you’re too pained to capitalise on your mutual suffering. Today is truly a horrendous day.
It gets worse when you see the cat.
“Oh my god, no…” You launch yourself forward with more force than you thought possible in your current state.
The creature lay nestled against the curb, half its body splayed on the street.
Sliding to a stop in front of it, you drop to your knees, finally grateful for your outfit as stray pebbles attempt to break skin through fabric.
The cat’s fur is tangled with itself and what seems to be clumps of dirt. Abandonment smells like waste—the stench makes your eyes water.
Still, you reach forward with a shaking finger, dragging it through the matted fur on the top of its head.
You almost expect Jeong Siwoo to reprimand you for touching a dead animal but he, too, drops into a crouch. Together, your shadows meld into one, covering the poor thing in a sorely-needed blanket of shade.
“It’s… really small. Do you have a handkerchief or something, hyung?”
Your voice is steady. You continue to pet the cat between its little ears.
Rustling is all you hear before Jeong Siwoo passes you a square of fabric, just large enough for its purpose.
“We should still take it to the vet, right?” You murmur, cradling the bundle to your chest.
Though he says nothing, you can see him pull out his phone. Following his footsteps takes more effort than expected, because your eyes keep finding their way downward.
You can’t tell if the warmth in your hands is residual body heat or an effect of unhindered sunlight—you certainly wish it was the former.
The doorway of the vet provides you with a burst of cool air and a sense of rising dread.
Jeong Siwoo talks to the receptionist, then the veterinarian, as you stand there, holding the tiny thing to your heart. As if it will hear how hard yours is pounding. As if, possibly, it will take inspiration and convince its heart to do the same.
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.
But you forget, for a moment, about the ridiculous scenarios you’ve found yourself in these past few years.
Maybe you’re a little magic. You’ve always liked that concept, right?
Mrr.
It’s no shocker that Jeong Siwoo is the first one to notice it.
“Sorry, hold on. Hajin, did it just—”
Mew.
Then, the bundle begins to wriggle. You hold on with stiff fingers, feeling the shock travelling up to your chest. To your magical heart.
You burst into tears.
The veterinarian politely pries the squirming kitten out of your grasp before speeding to the door, leaving Jeong Siwoo to deal with you.
“Hajin—It’s okay. Hajin—”
“H-h-hyung…!!! Th-the kitten…” Your words drown beneath another volley of sobs.
His hand comes down gently on your back, rubbing up and down as you stumble to a free seat.
“You’re such a crybaby…” Another rustle and he’s shoving a new handkerchief into your face. “Blow.”
“N-nooo…” You blow. “Aeugh…”
You press the side of your head into his shoulder, your limbs heavier than solid steel.
“...Wow.”
You feel him chuckle.
“Good job.”