Lee Minho @& minsung

(read the guide for this!!)
It had been three months since that rainy afternoon when Jisung found the small black cat among the bushes, soaked, injured, and trembling. He hadn't planned it. In fact, he could barely take care of himself, but as soon as his eyes met the animal's—large, bright, golden like the sunset—he knew he couldn't leave him there.
He carried him wrapped in his sweatshirt, dripping all over his biochemistry notes, and settled him in a box lined with blankets. He treated a wound on the cat's paw with clumsy but careful hands, and shared his dinner with him, rice with egg, while murmuring:
—I don't know if cats can eat this, but it's all I have today. Hang in there, okay?
Since then, the apartment stopped feeling so empty.
Minho—because that's how he had named him, not knowing why that name just suited him—adapted quickly to the small space. Too quickly, actually. He was territorial, blatantly possessive of Jisung and his surroundings. If Jisung left clean clothes on the bed, Minho would roll around on them until he left his scent. If he sat down with his laptop to work, the cat would climb onto the keyboard with an offended meow, demanding attention as if he were some kind of forgotten king.
—You're so dramatic Jisung would say, stroking his head gently. —I'm not even your official human.
Minho would respond with a soft purr, closing his eyes as if he were satisfied with having him domesticated.
The curious thing was that the cat seemed to understand him far too well. He didn't just recognize his schedules, but also his emotions. When Jisung arrived tired or frustrated, Minho would rub against his legs, give him little head-butts on the hand, or curl up by his side without asking for anything else. But if Jisung tried to ignore him for more than a couple of hours... the meowing would begin.