You saw that cat out on the street again.
The one that looks as if its on the brink of death, shivering in the cold, trying to cling onto any bit of warmth its paws can find.
The one with the beautiful and recognizable fur, worn and grey with the seasons, in need of some maintenance, and a good wash.
You could never fathom why someone would leave such a beautiful creature outside in the rain. Droplets of water grazing the surface of the cat's fur, teasing at the crusted hairs around its paws.
The brown and grey contrast was striking compared to the darker blue the sky was turning. A benevolent, harsh, and crude beauty. The entirety of the cat's existence was juxtaposed. Just like the words you would use to describe it.
You shivered with one last glance out the window—the cat reminded you of yourself. In your time of need, frozen, standing abnormally still with a stranger’s hands wrapped around your neck, waiting for the moment they would decide to apply pressure.
But they never got the chance to.
Because a man you had gotten close to over an application on your phone decided that was the right moment to intrude.
It was well that he did.
But why the hell wouldn't he talk to you?
Not even glance in your direction?
You felt like that cat.
Once, it was safe from danger. In a house with a loving family, a collar tied around its neck as a symbol. Warmth flooded its body—the only feeling it had ever known.
Now, it sits outside. Letting the unforgiving cold seep through its fur, holding it captive under the change of season. Collecting rats off the side of the street with its teeth.
Saeyoung had saved you from the cold you faced. Turned against his own family and valued your life—only to lock himself away from the rest of the world, from you, in that damned laptop of his.
Was he just pretending to care for you?
Was saving you, a simple debt he thought he owed?
Or was he hiding something… deep within himself that he never wanted anyone, especially you, to see?
It was time that you had found out.
Striding over to his place in the bedroom, your confidence folded in on itself. He looked tired. Overstimulated, maybe. From a job that drained him of every bit of strength he could squelch from within himself.
His eyelids slid into a squint, focusing intently on the bright screen in his lap. Focusing intently on anything he could to distract himself from you.
He knew you were there.
Watching him, as you had been for the past few days.
Staring at him with eyes seeped in anger.
The urge to turn around and catch them with his own was overpowering, but if he did so, he was sure he'd be forced to speak with you.
To tell you why he was acting this way.
But even he, himself, wasn't sure why.
And until he knew, you didn't deserve some lame excuse ridden with sarcasm.
That was all he was able to give you.
You pulled his headphones off of his head.
“Sleep.” You ordered, your voice cutting through the silent room like a shard of glass.
He turned around in disbelief.
“W-What?” He stammered out, clearly not recognizing your words. His mind was on your hand, that had ripped his lifeline—the one thing keeping him from you—off of his head.
“Please.” It came out lower this time, soft and tender, yet forceful and adamant, similar to your feelings for the man before you. The ones you tried to bury deep and ignore, like he was doing with the feelings he felt for you.
“Leave me alone.” His voice was hoarse. Clearly from the sparse use of his vocal chords these last few days spent in Rika’s apartment with you.
Your heart clenched for a moment.
It was the picture of him sitting there, messy red hair askew over his head, glasses still in their rightful place. The bags under his eyes, begging to be relieved by an hour or two of rest. His sweater, unzipped and revealing a tank top that exposed his collarbones—collarbones you were able to see from the rather slim and muscular shape of his body.
“I-I need you to go to bed.” You stammered, as your face flushed slightly. Thankfully, you had turned away from him and the bright light of his laptop, so he probably hadn't seen the off colour your cheeks had turned.
“Why?” He demanded, his eyes narrowed.
“Because… if you don't sleep, you won't have enough energy to keep me safe. That's all this is about. All I would ever worry about you for.”
Your eyes widened. It had come out harsher than you meant it, but if these last few days were any evidence, he deserved every last word. Every stab in the chest, every word plummeting straight into his heart like a knife. He should feel pain. You wanted-
No you didn't.
You didn't want him to feel pain. You wanted him to feel safe. Comfortable. Warm. No matter how much rain would fall on you in his vicinity, you wanted to be the umbrella. The one he was forced to hold even if he didn't wish to. The one that stood by his side no matter how many times he said he was fine.
You wanted to bring him inside like that cat, hold him in your arms, force him to get better. Only when he was rested, full, and loved would you set him down and allow him to decide what he wanted for himself.
And you wanted him to want you.
And he did want you.
He wanted you more than words can express.
He wanted your heart, your hands, every significant part of your body that made his head spin and his heart hammer in his chest. He wanted to make you laugh. See you cry, care for you when those moments arise.
But he couldn't make you happy.
He wasn't the same person that he displayed himself to you as.
The one that made you feel exactly like he did when he looked into your eyes.
But he wanted to be.
He will be.
But only when the time is right.
That time isn't now.
It can't be now.
Not when you're in danger, not when you could be killed—
But you wanted it to be that time.
You wanted him to make you smile.
You wanted to hear his jokes, even when nobody else laughed. You wanted to see him sleep a full night's rest, and wake up in bed placed strategically next to you, his head on your shoulder and his breath slow.
And as you grabbed both sides of his face with your hands, stroking either side with both of your thumbs, you showed him that you wanted it to be your time.
And when he stiffened under your touch, he showed you how unsure he was.
So, you moved your hand into his hair and grazed it gently, and once you removed it, you walked out of the room.
You would give him time. If that's what he needed.
~~~~~~
Saeyoung sat down at his laptop and tried to ignore the tingling sensation his hair had felt since your hand glided through it. He placed his headphones back over his ears, and tried to ignore the way your feet padded across the floor to get to the living room. The way you sat down in the chair and pulled out your phone to log onto the chatroom.
He ignored everything, until he realized that the featherlight feeling would never go away.
It would always be there.
Like the feelings he had for you.
Whether it was now, or later, that he told you. He would forever feel them—because his life wasn't full without you in it.
His life wasn't complete without the woman he loved pleading for him to sleep, wishing on his well being, and running her fingers through his unkempt hair.
He did his best to ignore the sound of his feet padding along the floor after you. He did his best to bring himself back into the bedroom, away from the dangerous situation he was placing his heart in. He tried his best to ignore the way he placed himself next to you on the couch, turning to you silently, and pulling your face near his.
And as your breath hit his face, your warmth flooding the entirety of his body, he realized he didn't want to ignore this. The way his lips grazed over yours softly in a promise. A promise that he would always be here. Always love you when he couldn't show it, always ignore you if it meant he would be able to save your life.
And when the gap closed, when your lips met his and your heart faltered in your chest, he promised you that you were his world. That you would never be left out in the cold again.
You were never that cat.
Not as long as you had Saeyoung to bring you back inside.