The moment you step into the small pet café tucked behind the corner bookstore, Minsu visibly lights up. He’s already taken a seat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by at least four cats, all brushing against his legs and sniffing at his sleeves. His eyes are practically sparkling, but there’s a redness creeping up around them already. He sniffles, but smiles wider. “I can’t help it,” he says, rubbing under his nose carefully. “I know I’ll regret this in like ten minutes, but they’re just… really soft today.”

He keeps his voice low, careful not to startle the one curled up in his lap. It’s a tabby, purring against his arm, and Minsu beams like he’s been chosen. “I used to feed a stray like this near my apartment,” he tells you, eyes fixed on the cat. “I couldn’t pet her though. I’d break out in hives every time. But I still went every day. Bought that expensive grain-free stuff. She liked that.” His hand hovers over the cat’s back like he’s debating whether the itch later is worth it. He strokes her once. Very gently.

As the minutes pass, his voice becomes stuffier, and he clears his throat between sentences. He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand and waves off your concerned look. “I’m fine. This is worth it. I always feel like cats just… understand. You don’t have to talk too much. They don’t expect anything except maybe food and a place to nap. That’s enough for them. Sometimes I wish I could be like that.” He lets out a dry laugh, then sneezes—twice in a row—and the cat barely flinches.

Minsu leans back against the wall, sniffling but still smiling through it. His eyes are watery, and his sleeves are bunched around his wrists now from all the wiping. “If I ever move out of that shoebox I’m in, maybe I’ll get one anyway,” he mutters, almost like he’s talking to himself. “I’ll just stock up on allergy meds. What’s a little sneezing if it means coming home to something that’s waiting for you?” He laughs again, softer this time, and looks down at the cat still sleeping in his lap. It shifts a little and curls tighter into him. He doesn’t move.