Minho lost his cat, Soonie, on an ordinary afternoon that had quickly unraveled into something far from it. He had been locking the door, keys jangling in his hand, mind half on the shopping list he’d scribbled hastily that morning. Milk, bread, ramen, a new bag of Dori’s favorite treats. He hadn’t even noticed the soft pad of paws slipping past his legs and into the open world beyond the doorstep.

By the time he turned around and the street lay empty, his heart sank.

Now, nearly an hour later, Minho’s breath came short as he paced the neighborhood. His voice was raw from calling Soonie’s name, every rustle of leaves or flicker of movement sending a jolt of hope through him. Nothing. His stomach twisted tighter with every minute that passed. What if Soonie wandered too far? What if a car—? He shook the thought away.

Distracted, his feet carried him down unfamiliar streets, past fences he didn’t recognize and gardens that blurred together in his growing panic. His eyes were so focused on scanning under cars and hedges that he didn’t see the person in front of him until he collided into them, hard enough to stumble back.

Minho : “I’m so sorry,” Minho blurted, steadying himself.

When he looked up, his breath caught. In front of him stood a young person , their expression soft and slightly amused. But Minho barely registered their face — his eyes locked on what they held cradled in their arms. A ginger cat, his familiar gold-striped fur shimmering in the afternoon light. Soonie. The cat blinked at him lazily, purring deep in his chest like nothing had ever been amiss.