Chapter Text
Juyeon liked his job. The base pay was a little shit, but most days the tips were enough to make up for it. His coworkers were nice, the customers weren’t too demanding. It was a quiet, simple existence— exactly what he wanted.
The Northwoods Cafe was owned and operated by hybrids. Only a few employees had readily visible alters; they were getting rarer and rarer these days, segregation far in the recesses of society’s memory. Juyeon himself was crossbred— it was rude to say mutt nowadays, but Juyeon didn’t mind. All he knew for certain was that the two wide, charcoal black ears atop his head and his long-haired tail were almost certainly feline. We’re cats, but with a little extra spice, his mom always told him. She refused to elaborate on what that extra spice was.
“Spinning wheel of death again, Juyeonnie?” Chanhee’s high voice pierced through Juyeon’s thoughts.
“The spinning what?”
“Wheel of death. You’re buffering, honey. Eyes on the ball, I can’t handle the lunch rush by myself.”
Juyeon mumbled an apology, pushing away from the back counter to stand beside Chanhee at the register. He glanced down for a moment to see Chanhee’s cottontail twitch excitedly. “Expecting someone?” he asked.
Chanhee’s face held none of the same excitement. He rolled his eyes at Juyeon instead. “Jacob says we’re supposed to have someone in for an interview today. We might finally get an extra set of hands around here. Or paws, I suppose. I don’t judge. As long as they can make a fucking americano.”
Paw alters hadn’t been witnessed in the greater population in thirty years, but Juyeon kept quiet on that. He had what Chanhee called an annoyingly extensive and completely useless knowledge of hybrid history. It was the result of a lifelong yet fruitless search for his other hybrid breeds. His mother was no help, and blood tests weren’t either. All that came back was feline, standard human, and…something.
“Earth to Juyeon? Don’t make me reset your router.” Juyeon frowned, taking a small step away from the bunny. Chanhee’s “router reset” was a swift tug on his tail or ears, whichever he could get his evil hands on first.
Juyeon’s ears twitched as he picked up the slightest thump of Chanhee’s foot on the ground. He grinned. Chanhee loved new faces, new friends, but he would never admit it. Juyeon just hoped they might be nice.
The lunch rush began, and the two were so engrossed with it that they nearly forgot about the interview. Juyeon only burned himself with the milk steamer twice, a record low for him. Chanhee was on fire, greeting every guest with his charming smile and a killer wink. He shook the tip jar at Juyeon with a shit-eating grin, and Juyeon gave him a thumbs up in return. They always made a little extra with Chanhee at the register.
Kevin’s shift started about halfway through theirs, and he got to work immediately. He slipped gracefully between them to serve pastries, fetch cups, and field bathroom code inquiries. He wiggled past Juyeon with a small pat on the butt, ducking around to grab the drink he’d just barely finished making. In the same movement, he caught a pastry as it exited the toaster and tossed both on the pickup counter with a flourish.
When Kevin had first been hired on at the cafe, claiming mink blood on his mother’s side, Juyeon didn’t believe him. He had no visible alters, no special PTO days, not even any adjustment requests for his uniform. He was so utterly passable that Juyeon had resented him for it. But as soon as he’d begun his training, Juyeon could see it— the grace, the fluidity, the eager wiggles as he eyed the filling tip jar. Juyeon had long since left his resentment behind him in favor of fierce friendship.
“Chanhee told me there was a new hire?” Kevin asked during a rare lull.
“ Possible new hire,” Juyeon corrected. “They’re coming in for an interview today.”
Kevin hummed. “Well as long as they’re not totally incompetent, I hope Cobie hires them. We desperately need an extra set of paws around here.” Kevin jerked his head towards a new wave of customers piling in, and Juyeon once again kept his paw facts to himself. He took his place back at the espresso machine, where Chanhee was already piling ticketed cups.
He was so absorbed in a particularly complicated oat milk caramel macchiato (“But make it like, the Starbucks way”) that he missed a shockingly white set of ears emerge from the crowd. He missed them as they slipped through grumpy, caffeine-hungry bodies and saddled up to the pickup counter. He even missed them as a small, sharp voice called out, “Um, excuse me!”
“Sorry, register on the other side. Please wait in line.”
“No, I didn’t— I don’t need to order.”
" Something wrong with the drink?”
“No, no drink, I just—hey!” A small, cold hand reached out to wrap around Juyeon’s wrist. Juyeon froze, the strength of it shocking his system. He stared down at it an extra moment before finally, finally looking up.
The two white ears were attached to a flawless, doll-like face staring wide-eyed back at him. Juyeon’s brain went blank, and he stared right back into the rich, fire yellow of the boy’s eyes.
“I-I’m here for the interview,” the stranger stuttered, finally loosening his grip on Juyeon. A deep dimple formed at the corner of his apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I grabbed you.”
“Another cat!” Kevin squealed, tumbling over to the counter with his arm outstretched for a handshake. “I’m Kevin, I hope you get hired! Please, we need you. Please get hired.”
“I’m Changmin,” the stranger laughed, an oddly pitched and nervous sound. “You’re a cat, too?”
“Not me, silly!” Kevin scoffed. “Juyeon here of course!”
Juyeon might have been slow in offering his own hand for a shake, but he didn’t miss the look. He never missed the look. Changmin’s eyes squinted, glancing down at Juyeon’s oversized tail and glancing up at his wide, ungraceful ears. “Of course, silly me.” Changmin smiled, showing his teeth. A razor sharp set of fangs flashed in the cafe lights. “We’re the same.” Juyeon’s jaw clenched as he fought against the snappy comeback in his throat. He excused himself to the back with a pained “pleasure to meet you,” and promptly locked himself in the bathroom.
It was hard to explain. Impossible even, to a human presenting hybrid like Kevin. To other hybrids, other species, he looked like a cat. It seemed obvious— ears, tail, even the upturned curl at the corners of his mouth. Those were enough. But to other cats… they always knew. They always sensed something was off, something else was there, even if they tried to pretend not to see it. Juyeon huffed. Changmin didn’t even have the manners to pretend.
Juyeon wasn’t sure what he expected— anyone could spot from a mile away that Changmin was a purebred. The perfect feathered ears, the eyes, the trimmed, combed tail. The fangs . Juyeon had never even seen another hybrid with teeth alters, believing they’d gone the same way as paws. But here he was in their own little cafe: a perfect, purebred Persian longhair who had just looked at Juyeon like he was a sideshow.
=^._.^= * =^._.^=
Changmin was hired by the time Juyeon came back out to finish his shift. They really were hurting for staff. And in the coming weeks, Changmin made up for his lack of any relevant experience with pure, fierce enthusiasm. Customers adored his bright energy and blinding smiles, and soon he was accruing enough tips at the register to rival Chanhee.
Chanhee quickly got over his initial feigned indifference— the two were thick as thieves within days. Chanhee was obviously overjoyed to have a pretty new toy to tease and Changmin took it in stride, giving as good as he got when he could. Kevin cooed over Changmin’s pretty ears, asking a million and one questions about fur care despite having none of his own.
And Juyeon… Well, Juyeon watched it all happen. Watched with a sickly feeling bubbling in his chest as all attention shifted to the brighter, faster cat. Watched as everyone’s initial fascination didn’t seem to fade, the purebred keeping a vice grip on everyone’s affections well past his 90 day mark. He wasn’t unkind about it— Juyeon and Changmin got along well enough during their shifts. But after Changmin’s first few failed attempts to strike up a conversation with the other feline, he got the picture. First impressions were hard to shake. They spent any time working together in amicable silence, and Juyeon was just fine with that. Probably. Maybe.
The truth was, Juyeon was in a constant internal tug of war. On one side was his embarrassing jealousy and need for attention of his own, the attention his found family of coworkers used to drape over him in comforting droves. On the other side was a desperate and feral need to ask Changmin everything he could about his purebred upbringing. Were his parents in an arranged marriage, like in the novels? Did he have a pedigree? A certificate of it? That was the kind of thing Juyeon only saw in the books he’d pour over in the local college library. How could he tell that Juyeon wasn’t only a cat? And how, if even possible, could Juyeon avoid getting clocked like that in the future?
Jacob noticed it first. His kind doe eyes missed nothing, and eventually he pulled Juyeon into the back office for just a quick chat, I promise.
“You’re slow, but you’re not stupid, Juyeon.” From anyone else, it might have sounded rude. But Jacob smiled fondly, his expression pure. “I think you know why I called you in here.” Juyeon squirmed under Jacob’s gaze, but he said nothing. “Changmin has become a very valuable member of the team, Juyeon-ah. Of this family . It’s important that he feels welcome with everyone.”
“I’m not trying to make him feel unwelcome,” Juyeon mumbled.
“You aren’t exactly trying the opposite either, are you?” Jacob sighed. “What exactly is your issue with him, anyway?”
“I don’t have an issue ,” Juyeon scoffed, picking at a dried spot of caramel sauce on his apron. He could feel Jacob staring holes into the side of his face. “He’s fine, he’s nice. Really, he’s not a problem, I just— I don’t have to be friends with every one of my coworkers, right?”
“I suppose that’s true,” Jacob said slowly. He laced his fingers together over his torso, leaning back into his desk chair. “Do you know why I started this cafe, Juyeon?”
“To provide a safe place for hybrids to work, meet, and eat,” Juyeon recited the cafe’s motto by heart.
Jacob smiled. “Yes, that’s true. But it’s not just meant as a safe place for customers. When my employees come into work, I expect them to be in a safe environment. A friendly environment. A place to forget about all the stuff we’ve got going on outside of the cafe and just… be . We’ve all got stuff going on outside, Juyeon. Changmin is no exception.” Curiosity gnawed at Juyeon’s brain, but he fought it down and nodded. “So just— I know it’s not technically in your job description.” Jacob sat up and reached across his oak desk to pat Juyeon’s hand. This close, Juyeon could see the cropped antler stumps hidden in Jacob’s long hair. “But please, for me. Just make an effort.”
Juyeon felt his gut twist. He liked his job. He was good at his job. And now here he was, getting reprimanded for the first time since starting at the cafe. All because of some sensitive purebred who had already gotten the boss wrapped around his cold little finger. Juyeon swallowed down a wave of anger and gave Jacob the most convincing smile he could manage.
“Of course, boss. Sorry for the trouble.”
=^._.^= * =^._.^=
Because fate had it out for Juyeon, Changmin was promoted to the lunch rush team and ended up on the same shift schedule as Juyeon. Maybe Jacob did it on purpose, testing him. On a particularly slow afternoon, Juyeon saw an opportunity to put his empty words into action.
Changmin was visibly spent, slumped against the back counter with a rare droop to his ears. To be fair, he had worked his ass off at the register and Juyeon was pretty pleased with their tip tally. But Changmin’s eyes were unfocused, staring somewhere into the middle distance— a familiar look for Juyeon.
“Spinning wheel of death?” he asked, and Changmin blinked rapidly as he stirred from his stupor. “Need a router reset?”
“A…a what?”
Juyeon chuckled, a little distracted by the bright yellow stare now levelled at him. “You know, a… Chanhee does it, you know? A router reset.”
Changmin frowned in confusion, but still nodded. “Yeah, sure. Show me.”
Juyeon thought he had given him plenty of time to swat his hand away. But Changmin was more oblivious than he could have imagined— or maybe too trusting. In one swift movement, Juyeon wrapped his hand around Changmin’s tail and pulled hard and fast.
Changmin screamed.
Juyeon expected him to yelp, maybe swat him on the shoulder. They would both laugh, and maybe the tension would loosen between them. Maybe enough for Juyeon to apologize for being weird and distant.
Instead, the sound Changmin made rang in Juyeon’s ears long after they’d flattened to his head. Changmin looked at him in horror, one hand clapped over his mouth and the other frantically gathering his ruffled tail close to his chest.
“I-I’m so sorry,” Juyeon stuttered, keenly aware of the many eyes on them from the cafe tables. “I didn’t mean to—”
“ Lee Juyeon!”
They both jumped as Jacob appeared at the back room door. Juyeon had never seen him so angry, his nostrils flaring with barely held control.
“My office. Now. ”
Jacob waved Juyeon towards the office couch without looking back, and Juyeon sat gingerly. Jacob paced the room as he ran his hands over his face, and Juyeon’s brain began a familiar spiral. He’d saved up some money, enough to scrap by for a bit. Jacob wouldn’t completely blacklist him— he wasn’t that cruel. There was another cafe a couple blocks down, they might take him on temporarily. They weren’t particularly hybrid-friendly. Maybe he deserved that. He had heard of another hybrid cafe the next town over. He’d have to take the bus, wake up early. Did he have enough saved up to move away? His mom would be so disappointed.
“Wait!” Juyeon startled from his thoughts as Changmin appeared in the doorway. He gnawed at his lip with a sharp fang, close to drawing blood. “It’s not Juyeon’s fault.”
Jacob scoffed. “That’s very noble of you Changmin, but I heard you scream. You don’t need to lie to me. If Juyeon did something, touched you inappropriately, he needs—”
“He didn’t!”
“Didn’t what?” Jacob spoke slowly, testing him.
Changmin swallowed, still holding his tail close to his chest. His eyes flitted to Juyeon for just a moment before filling with determination. “He didn’t touch me. I just… do that, sometimes.”
Jacob blinked. “You just… scream sometimes? With no warning?”
“Changmin, you don’t have to—” Juyeon started, but Changmin shot him a wild look.
“Yes! Sometimes I just get frustrated and I… you know. Have to scream. It happens all the time. I’m a screamer.”
Juyeon held his breath. Jacob had a hand over his scalp, rubbing soothing circles around the base of his growing antlers. He looked between them in disbelief, searching for any scrap of weakness. He finally crossed his arms, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sure. Screamer. Great. Just— please, for the love of gods Changmin, do not do it inside the cafe ever again.”
“Of course, boss. Sorry for the trouble.”
Juyeon stared at Changmin and something cracked in his brain. It was like a raw egg, slow and gooey as it spilled over his anxiety. Changmin’s eyes shifted back to his with a small smile, and he swore he could hear the egg start to sizzle. The purebred turned to duck out of the small office and Juyeon rose to chase after him.
“Juyeon.” Jacob’s voice was soft, but still filled with a sternness Juyeon barely recognized. He turned to face his boss. “I don’t know what the f—what in the world just happened, but you better go thank Changmin for saving you from a month of garbage duty.”
“Garbage duty? You… You weren’t gonna fire me?
Jacob’s face softened for just a moment, almost
hurt, before hardening back into a glare. “Do I have a reason to fire you, Juyeon-ah?”
Juyeon tripped over his own feet as he backed towards the door. “No reason, course not boss! Thanks, Jacob! Bye!”
Juyeon leaned against the backroom door as soon as he shut it, letting out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding. His ear twitched at the sound of Changmin clearing his throat beside him.
“I’m sorry I screamed,” Changmin said, barely above a whisper. “I really do just do that sometimes.”
Juyeon put up a hand. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. It was—”
“Just a joke, right? I know. You were trying to—” Changmin flailed for a moment, explaining a wordless concept with jerky hand movements. “Like Chanhee does.”
Juyeon chuckled. “Yes, like Chanhee does. But I think… Maybe neither of us are built to do things the way Chanhee does, huh?”
Changmin laughed at that, throwing his head back. Juyeon had never noticed how long his neck was, strong and slender. Pretty.
“No, I don’t think anyone is built like Chanhee,” Changmin said. A silence fell over them, a few degrees warmer than before.
“Thank you,” Juyeon finally said, and Changmin immediately started shaking his head in protest. “No, I’m serious. Look, I know I haven’t been the friendliest to you. I just… I have my own shit to work out. That doesn’t mean I should take it out on you. You had every right to let me get mine in there, so… Thanks. Thanks for saving me.”
Changmin stayed quiet, his dimple flashing in and out as his face scrunched in thought. Before Juyeon could flinch, Changmin raised a hand to Juyeon’s head and tugged gently on Juyeon’s ear.
“There,” he said, stifling a giggle at Juyeon’s delayed look of shock. “Now we’re even.”
=^._.^= * =^._.^=
Juyeon wouldn’t call them friends. Not yet, maybe. But they could hold a conversation, Changmin would kindly laugh at his dad jokes, and Juyeon would stare at Changmin’s fangs as they flashed in his smile. Juyeon’s curious side was slowly winning, but he couldn’t work up the courage to actually ask Changmin any questions. Like Jacob said, they all had stuff going on— and why a pedigree purebred was working in some random hybrid cafe instead of sipping mimosas at some corporate brunch was probably some serious stuff.
His body didn’t seem to get the memo though. More than once, he caught himself blatantly staring. He even caught his hand reaching out to touch, grab, saved only by the fact that Changmin was too fast to catch. Chanhee saw him do it once, and proceeded to tease him mercilessly for the next week.
“Just ask him,” Chanhee said to him once in a harsh whisper. “Whatever it is you’re dying to know, I’m sure he’d be happy to answer it. Oh, don’t look at me like that, I know you and your little genetics obsession. I can practically hear you thinking, those nerd gears are cranking away at the top speed of a pull-along turtle toy.” Juyeon went a little cross-eyed as he tried to process Chanhee’s metaphor. The bunny rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard. He even likes pets. Here, watch.”
Chanhee pushed off from the counter beside Juyeon’s assembly station and hopped up beside Changmin at the register. He shook the tip jar, making a big show at weighing it in his hands. “Wow, our little Changminnie is getting us paid today, huh?” Changmin’s face lit up, a little shocked at Chanhee’s sudden niceties. “Our pretty kitty,” Chanhee cooed, and Changmin’s ears went bright pink. He lifted a hand to Changmin’s head to scratch and rub behind his ears. Juyeon watched in shock as Changmin leaned into the touch, his eyes closing blissfully. “So soft! Juyeon, did you know his ears were this soft?”
Juyeon felt his own coarse-haired ear flick in annoyance. “No, I didn’t.” Changmin opened his eyes to glance at Juyeon expectantly. “I’m not surprised, though. Everything about Changmin is soft.” Juyeon wasn’t sure if that came off as a compliment. He meant it to be, even if it was a little shallow.
A sudden, loud rumbling noise cut through the cafe din. ”Are you purring?” Chanhee gasped. Changmin blushed, ducking his chin into his chest. “That’s so cute! Juyeon, I’ve never heard you purr before!”
Juyeon’s mouth went dry. “Never had the occasion to,” he grumbled, quickly turning back to the espresso machine.
He left out the fact that he couldn’t, even if he wanted to.
Despite it being the most common feline alter, the easiest for even the most human presenting hybrids, Juyeon had never been able to purr. It was never really an issue in his day to day. Not until he was intimate with someone. Then accusations started to fly— you’re not really enjoying yourself. You’d be purring if you were really enjoying yourself. You’re lying. He knew how to use his words like a damn adult. He knew how to express his inner thoughts and feelings just fine on his own, without his body betraying them against his will. Wasn’t that enough?
Changmin appeared next to him, a slow rumble still echoing in his chest. The sound pitched up into his throat as Changmin tilted his head, a silent question from one cat to another.
“I’m fine,” Juyeon sighed, grimacing against the knot in his own throat. “Thanks for asking.”
=^._.^= * =^._.^=
While Mondays plagued the morning shifts, weekends were similarly awful at lunchtime. Families out for obligatory bonding time, awkward first dates, groups of rowdy teens. The customers at the cafe ran the full gambit, and Juyeon always felt like he was drowning in their sugary espresso orders. For a split second, the register was left unmanned as all hands on deck finished an extensive sandwich order. So when Juyeon heard a somewhat brusque excuse me from the counter, he didn’t think twice. Without waiting for Chanhee or Changmin, he saddled up to the counter and flashed the customer his most apologetic smile.
“So sorry for the wait, what can I get started for you?” Juyeon’s smile faltered just slightly as he looked the customer over. The man was older, thin gray hair barely covering his thick skull. A sharkskin suit sagged off his shoulders, the sheen of it matching his doughy, greasy face. He fiddled with a gold watch as he looked Juyeon up and down, lingering on his ears for a moment too long.
“You a cat?” He grunted, slurring his words slightly. Juyeon clenched his jaw.
“This is a hybrid cafe, sir. Could I get your order, please?”
The man frowned, his thin lips pinching into a tight purse. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Juyeon barely held back a sigh. “Yes sir, I am a feline hybrid.”
The man grinned, and Juyeon caught a glimpse of a few dingy gold caps. “I like kitties,” he drawled, and threw his head back in a laugh like he’d made a joke just for himself. His breath smelled of stale alcohol and cigars. “Could you make me a cappuccino then, kitty cat? An extra shot in there, too. Maybe one of those croissants you got there.”
Juyeon punched in the order at top speed. “And a name for the order?”
The man leaned into the counter as he fumbled for his wallet. “How about you call me Big Daddy?”
Juyeon’s hand twitched with the sudden need to wrap around a neck. Instead, he furiously thumbed the initials BD onto his touchscreen and initiated the customer display, saying nothing. After the man put away his card, he reached for a crisp bill and handed it to Juyeon.
“For you, pretty kitty,” he crooned. Juyeon ignored the flip of nausea in his stomach. He muttered a quick thank you and reached for the bill, ready to stuff it into the tip jar and forget this ever happened.
The man ripped the bill away as Juyeon’s fingers grazed it. The man chuckled before offering it again, hand raised in feigned apology. Again, he pulled it away from Juyeon as he reached. The man roared with laughter, and Juyeon’s cheeks burned with rage and embarrassment. He cursed his slow reflexes with every fiber of his being. He reached for the bill again, hoping the man was distracted, only to feel the sting of a papercut as it was snatched from his grip.
“Sir, please,” Juyeon said, hating the slight quiver in his voice as the heat in his face started to sting his eyes. The customers in line had started falling quiet, turning to watch, and Juyeon felt every set of eyes, full of pity, falling on him like knives.
“Come on, kitty! Don’t you know how to play? Be a good kitty!”
In one second, the man was dangling the bill in Juyeon’s face between sausage-y fingers.
In the next second, a small pale hand was digging its nails into the sickly flesh just above his gold watch, twisting his arm into an unnatural angle.
Changmin plucked the bill from the man’s hand, ignoring the hisses of pain as he gently dropped it into the tip jar. Before the man could protest, Changmin released him and flashed him the most charming smile Juyeon had ever seen. “Thanks, Big Daddy! Your order will be waiting at the end of the counter.”
Juyeon swore he saw steam escape the man’s ears. But he said nothing, rubbing at the quickly reddening skin of his wrist. He stormed off, and kept storming— right out the door without waiting for his order, stumbling out into the street in a day-drunk stupor.
Juyeon felt the entire cafe breathe a sigh of relief, but his hands were still shaking. He could feel tears burn at the corners of his eyes, and no matter how many times he swallowed, he couldn’t clear the thorns from his throat.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been harassed by a customer. It probably wouldn’t be the last. He was fine— he should be fine. He could tell Jacob, they’d review security footage, they’d get him banned from the building. It would be fine. It was nothing. He still had the rest of his shift to get through, the next customer was stepping up to the counter, a look of apologetic pity on their face. Get it together.
A sturdy palm pressed into the small of his back, and Juyeon was suddenly reminded of Changmin’s presence still beside him.
“Can you get us some more oatmilk from the back, Juyeon-ah? We just ran out, and I don’t know where it is.” Juyeon knew what was happening. He wanted to protest, he didn’t need help, he didn’t need to go have a breakdown in the back. He wasn’t weak .
But the look in Changmin’s eyes wasn’t pity. It was some sort of fury, thinly veiled, the fire of it making Changmin seem so much bigger than he was. His tail curled around the back of Juyeon’s legs and he slowly stroked his thumb against Juyeon’s back. The deepest parts of Juyeon’s hybrid brain finally spoke: he’s protecting his pride. And, more loudly: he considers me part of his pride. Juyeon nodded, still too shaken for words, Changmin patted him twice, and Juyeon felt an odd emptiness as his hand and tail dropped away.
Juyeon didn’t stop moving until his hand closed around the milk jug handle in the walk-in. His breath stuttered, and he slowly slid onto the cold, concrete floor as tears began to fall.
=^._.^= * =^._.^=
Juyeon walked into his shift a few weeks later to Changmin and Chanhee huddled together in the corner of the breakroom. Chanhee was whispering excitedly, his eyes lit up with a familiar mischief. Changmin was gnawing a sharp fang into his lip again, rolling his eyes as Chanhee suggested something he obviously didn’t like. His ears twitched as he gestured wildly, whispering just as fiercely as Chanhee.
Juyeon tracked every little movement and quirk. Changmin was fascinating to watch, and nowadays Juyeon often just let his curiosity get the better of him. It was scientific curiosity of course; Juyeon was still determined to conduct a thorough investigation of all of Changmin’s purebred oddities. As he stared at Chanhee’s delicate hand patting Changmin’s shoulder, he felt a prickly feeling against his sternum. It got stronger as Changmin wrapped his hands around Chanhee’s and held it between them. Before he could stop himself, Juyeon loudly cleared his throat. Changmin’s ears whipped towards him, followed moments later by the rest of his head. His tail flicked as he pulled away from Chanhee, and the odd feeling in Juyeon’s chest subsided.
“Juyo,” Changmin smiled, and Juyeon squinted back at him. The nickname had suddenly appeared in Changmin’s vocabulary, and was apparently here to stay. Chanhee tried to call him that once, and Juyeon had immediately given him a quick flick to his human ear. He couldn’t find it in him to do the same to Changmin.
“What were you guys talking about?” Juyeon asked, stuffing his duffel bag into his locker.
“Nothing! Nothing at all.”
“It didn’t look like nothing. Changminnie, I-oh.” Juyeon closed his locker and turned to see Changmin quickly going beet red in the face. Chanhee let out a snort, and Changmin smacked his shoulder at top speed.
“It was nothing,” Changmin said firmly, storming out to the cafe counter without another word.
“Sorry I asked,” Juyeon mumbled. Chanhee gave him a few pitying pats on the back before joining Chanhee.
The incident quickly faded with the rhythm of the cafe, the three of them making easy work of a somewhat slow Thursday. When Kevin joined them, Juyeon even had time to take a seat on a tall stool beside the back counter. He rolled his ankles and wrists, letting his mind wander and his eyes unfocus. Eventually Chanhee and Kevin went to count stock, and left Changmin and Juyeon to man the register and machines for the few afternoon stragglers looking for refills.
Juyeon’s blurry eyes lazily followed whatever movement caught them in the moment, not really processing any information. It wasn’t until Changmin let out an amused huff that Juyeon realized his eyes had latched on to the gentle sway of Changmin’s tail.
“You can touch it, you know.” Juyeon’s eyebrows hit his hairline, and Changmin had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “If you want to, I mean. I don’t know. Forget it.” He whipped back to face the counter.
Juyeon hesitated for a moment before slowly reaching out a hand. Changmin’s tail flicked away at the first touch, but Juyeon chased it down. This time, Juyeon closed his hand around it but it slipped through his grip. The soft fur was like silk against his palm.
He thought of the old, drunken man for a moment, but his brain melted the memory away in favor of the current moment. This was different, if the pleasant flutter in Juyeon’s belly was anything to go by. The feathery ends of Changmin’s tail barely tickled his fingers when he reached for it again, and he clicked his tongue. Changmin’s shoulders shook with laughter, but he didn’t turn around. Juyeon felt his pupils dilate as he dialed in on Changmin’s tail, his own tail flicking in interest. He batted at Changmin a few more times before finally closing his hand around the white fur for a solid hold. Changmin twitched, but didn’t scream or yelp this time. He let his tail go limp in Juyeon’s hold, and Juyeon’s heart leaped in his little victory.
He wrapped his other hand around it, just in case, and ran his thumb along the knobs of bone. It felt a bit like his own tail, of course, but where his was coarse and bushy Changmin’s was impossibly soft. His hands trailed higher, fascinated to see if the shorter, denser fur there was just as soft as the long, thin ends. He threaded his fingers through the strands, mind blank as he felt the swell of muscle beneath them—
“Um, Juyo? Juyo!”
Juyeon’s eyes flicked up, and Changmin gasped. He was the same bright red as he was in the breakroom. But this time, his breath was coming in short bursts, his hands tucked nervously into his chest. Juyeon looked down, and quickly realized he’d been dangerously close to the base of Changmin’s tail. He pulled away his hands like he’d been burned. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay! It’s fine!” Changmin waved his hands, hiding behind them a bit. “Just um… Maybe not here at work.”
Juyeon barely had time to process what that meant before a shrill song cut through the air. Changmin rummaged in his pocket for his phone, cursing quietly as he read the screen. “It’s my parents. I’ve really got to take this. I’m so sorry, can you please, please cover for me?”
Juyeon just nodded dumbly, brain still catching up. It was still buffering by the time Chanhee and Kevin returned from the stockroom, releasing Juyeon for his break. His brain finally caught up as he was passing the small condensation pipe of the walk-in cooler.
He didn’t mean to listen in, not really. He was just waiting for a good time to walk in and tell Changmin that the cooler caused some strange acoustics. That standing right under the pipe meant you could hear anything in the walk-in cooler, even with the door closed. He would leave out the part where he found all this out when he tried to eavesdrop on Kevin and Jacob’s important private conversaton and heard more than he’d bargained for. But a good time to open the heavy metal door never came.
“Yes, mom— no, I heard you. Yes. Classes are going great! Yeah, I love my professors. Yes, I used the office hours like you told me. My favorite? Um… I’m not sure. Really? Then probably early world history. Yeah. Hey mom, I wanted to ask you— Yes, I got the money you sent. Yes. Actually, about that— Oh… okay. Sure. Love you, too. Bye.”
For once in his life, his mouth worked quickly and blurted his first thought as he entered the walk-in.
“You don’t go to college.”
Changmin blinked away a glistening wetness as he whipped around to see Juyeon, his nose sniffly and red.
“It’s cold in here,” Changmin mumbled, ignoring Juyeon’s words completely.
“Do your parents know you’re working here?” Juyeon asked. His brain was working in overdrive to put all the pieces together. “Or do they think you’re here for college?”
Changmin sniffed and tilted his head. “It’s not a big deal.”
Juyeon could feel a tiny flame starting in his belly. “ Not a big deal? Changmin, are your parents paying for your tuition?” Changmin wouldn’t meet his eye, and the flame turned into a campfire. “Are they wasting their money on a college you don’t even attend?”
“I got in on academic scholarship,” Changmin snapped. “Full ride. They just send me living expenses, for food and stuff. It’s nothing to them.”
Juyeon just stood there, mouth agape. The college in town was no ordinary school— it was a private institute, with some of the most prestigious arts and science departments in the country. One of the best genetics programs in the world. Juyeon had only moved to this city for the locals' access to their library; what he wouldn’t give, wouldn’t do, for the chance to actually be enrolled.
“What the hell are you doing here, then? The scholarship, your parent’s money— why don’t you just take the classes instead of wasting your time working here?”
Changmin scoffed, a brief look of hurt flickering across his face. “The cafe isn’t a waste of time.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“And for your information, I don’t even touch the money they send me. Not a cent. I’m working here so I can save something, my own money, and get out of that fucking house.”
Juyeon had never heard Changmin curse before. “I thought something must have happened for you to start working here… like your parents had disowned you or something. But they love you, they’re calling you, they’re sending you money. Why the hell would you leave that behind?”
“I should have known you wouldn’t understand,” Changmin muttered. He rubbed his hands against the skin of his arms— Juyeon couldn’t tell if it was for warmth or comfort. It was in odd contrast to the beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead.
“Then make me understand,” Juyeon said through clenched teeth. “Help me understand.”
Changmin pressed his lips together, like he was holding back a tidal wave. But the words were already in his mouth, and he outstretched his palms as if he could catch them as they spilled out.
“You wanna know? Really? You say you want to understand me, but don’t you already have your own ideas about what my life is like? Why would I leave it behind… Ha! Do you even have any idea what a purebred’s life purpose is? Their only value? It’s right there in the name, Juyeon! To breed . The college degree, the piano lessons, the internships, they’re just for fucking show. Just to pretty up the resume put in front of whatever second cousin twice removed who deems me suitable enough for marriage. And then what? I get a nice career with a useless art history degree? No! ” Changmin’s voice had raised to nearly a shriek, and Juyeon’s ears flattened against his head. He couldn’t tell if Changmin’s anger was for him or someone else, but it didn’t really matter. “No fucking way,” Changmin continued after sucking in another breath. “No, I spend the rest of my life on the arm of a distant relative I don’t even love, I work a meaningless job in my father’s company, and I die with my mutation-addled children gathered around me, with one hand on their inheritance and the other hand around my neck !”
Juyeon said nothing until the metal walls stopped reverberating with Changmin’s voice. When he finally did speak, he regretted the words before they even came out. “So what, you’re just cosplaying as poor until you can run away?”
Changmin’s eyes went wide, wild. “Cosplaying? Cosplaying?! I’m cosplaying as poor just as much as you’re cosplaying as a cat!” Changmin froze for a moment before he gasped, his hands flying to his mouth. “Juyeon, I didn’t—”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t mean it, really, I—”
“Just… don’t. Please.” Changmin’s eyes went glassy with tears, his face going bright pink behind his fingers. Juyeon pressed a hand to his own chest, as if it could stop the jagged knife pressing its way into his heart. “Please… don’t talk to me.” Changmin’s breath caught, and Jacob’s warnings rang in Juyeon’s ears. “Just for the rest of the day,” he added, and turned to leave.
A loud metallic clatter made Juyeon rip the door open again just as it was about to close. Changmin was no longer upright, slumped against the industrial racks of the cooler. “No!” he whispered desperately. The pink flush across his face was now an alarming red.
Juyeon frowned. “It’s just for a day, Changmin. That was an asshole thing to say.” Changmin shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “Okay, fine. I also said some shit. But I think we should just cool off for now, okay? I can’t—”
“ No, ” Changmin said firmly. “It’s early, it’s my… shit— ” He cut off with a ragged breath, collapsing to the floor in a heap.
“Oh my god, Changmin!” Juyeon ran back inside the cooler. “Are you okay? Holy shit, you’re burning up.” Changmin leaned his head into Juyeon’s palm for a moment before weakly slapping it away.
“Of course, I am! Fuck, I didn’t think I was due until next week.”
“W-what’s happening to you? Do we need to go to the hospital?” Changmin gave him a bewildered look, like it was entirely obvious what Juyeon needed to do.
“I’m in rut, you idiot!” It was Juyeon’s turn to look dumbstruck, his mouth hanging open dumbly. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t tell me you’ve never gone through a rut bef—” Changmin clamped his mouth shut, looking guilty.
“No, I haven’t,” Juyeon said gently, not sure how to even begin with this. “And no, it’s not a mutt thing, you asshole. It’s because no one has. For like… decades.”
Changmin’s eyes were starting to go bleary and unfocused, his pupils dilating. Just like in the textbooks. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
“Changmin, don’t you take suppressants? Didn’t your parents start you on them when you started puberty?” A shudder rippled through Changmin’s body, and he reached out to steady himself on Juyeon’s shoulder. Juyeon hated the look in his eyes— the fear that was growing in them.
“What the fuck are supressants?”