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Twenty minutes into waiting, BooBoo has yet to exit the pet carrier, and Namjoon has given up on trying to get me to kiss him. Kissing him was enjoyable when I was in the moment. Now all I want to do is go home and weep in misery. Maybe pop a few midol and possibly choke to death on chocolate. But yet here we sit in this slow ass vet and waiting to be seen. When we came in there were no other customers so I don't know what they're waiting for. Probably they're all sitting back there laughing at us, drinking root beer and playing poker, or maybe plotting on more ways to make us wait longer.

The conversation fizzled out once we decided on what to call each other and I refused to kiss anyone. So Namjoon proposed twenty questions, which didn't even work like the game should, and instead we literally just asked one another questions.

Mine were a lot weirder than Namjoon's.

"If all of your friends were girls," I began and tried not to laugh at the exasperated look on his face. "And they were all naked," Namjoon face-palmed, "and you had to stare directly into their nipples for fifty two seconds straight without looking away, who would it be?"

His hand ran down his face before dropping into his lap. "Where do you come up with this stuff?"

"It's not your turn to ask questions." I point out sternly, holding in my laughter. Somehow.

He's clearly so annoyed with me but makes no mention of it, resorting instead to giving me a look that reflects how peculiar and twisted he thinks I am.

"I don't know," he spits, aggravated. "Hoseok, I guess."

"Why Hoseok?" I ask, shaking with silent laughter.

His face twists as he gives me a dirty look. "I don't know! There's no way I can answer that question seriously!"

"Fine." I reply in mock displeasure. "Your turn."

"When was the first time I made your heart flutter?"

Namjoon, I'm trying to be stupid here, please go away with that serious bullshit. However, it is his turn so I give it some thought, trying to remember this. He's made my heart flutter on so many occasions it's difficult to pinpoint the first time it happened. Oh. That's right.

"When I saw you with my cats. The first time you visited my house."

The answer obviously isn't a surprise to either of us, but he smirks as if he knows something I'm not telling him.

"So you liked me from way back then."

"I didn't say I liked you." I respond honestly. "You made my heart flutter, yes, but back then I thought you were really weird and I couldn't understand you." Well, I still think both of those things sometimes but I refrain from mentioning that. "Anyway, it's my turn. Say the school comes up with a new protocol."

Namjoon blinks and then lifts his eyes to the ceiling, preparing himself for my next question.

"And the protocol is this: In order to graduate, you have to either twerk upside down on a stripper poll or punch Jungkook in the face, which would you do?"

"That's not even logical-" he starts to point out before I cut him off.

"Just answer the question." Funny how 'that's not logical' didn't come up when I said imagine his friends were girls and naked. Proof that he's a pervert.

But back to the present question. I really want to know the answer. Namjoon undoubtedly loves his friends, (as much as they tease him) and is protective over them, but most especially over Jungkook. At least, that's the feeling I get whenever he speaks about him. Like he's his son or something. If we ever get married (not that I'm thinking that far ahead) I might have to adopt him.

Now the question remains. Namjoon loves Jungkook, but does he love him enough to spare him a punch to the face? Would he twerk on a stripper pole for his son?!?

Seriously, where do I come up with this stuff?

"I can't answer this." Namjoon snaps after a moment of thought. I would love to be in his head and hear that thought process. "I'm not answering this."

"You have to answer."

"Why?"

"Because," I struggle to come up with a viable argument. "It's...the law."

"It is not." he replies firmly, his arms crossed. His mouth is set in a firm line but the corners are twitching.

"It is so." I insist.

"Oh really?" he challenges. "And what law is that?"

"Y/n's law."

He tries in vain to hide a smile by biting on his lower lip. "Fine." he concedes but then sends me threatening look. "I'll answer. But my questions can be mean, too."

"Oh yeah?" I taunt.

"Yeah, I could never harm a hair on Jungkook's head so I'll twerk on a stripper pole if I have to," he says all of this very quickly and then launches into an assault. "There's a HOUSE FIRE, and your cats are stuck inside-" I gasp, "BooBoo is at one end and the others are together at the other end. WHICH DO YOU SAVE FIRST?"

"You unimaginable bastard." I whisper dramatically. How is my cats dying comparable to having to twerk on a stripper pole? I didn't say he had to do it at the world cup or something. I was thinking more along the lines of the entire school board.

What?

I take a deep breath before answering, swearing revenge and procuring more absurdities to ask him in my head.

"BooBoo would want me to save his dongsaengs first. Right, BooBoo?" I turn to BooBoo's orange ass, now halfway out of the crate. An angry flick of his tail is the only response I get. Shit. Was that the wrong answer? I turn back to Namjoon who is now gawking at me. "What?"

"I can't believe you answered that."

Oh god, I can't either. This confirms it. I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER!

"YOU-" I pause while trying to think of a better insult to throw at him, but strangely my thoughts only fall to: "Hoseok's nipples!"

"What?!?" Namjoon splutters, thoroughly perplexed.

"Picture them!"

"No thank you."

"JUST DO IT!"

"Alright, I'm doing it." he says sarcastically. A moment later his face screws up. "Aish! I really thought of it."

"Yeah," I jeer at him, though barely having an understanding of what was going on. "Take that! Take Hoseok's nipples!"

All earlier affection lay forgotten back at my house, apparently, because I'm only met with scowling now.

How does he even look good when he's annoyed?

"Stop talking about another man's nipples."

"Why?" I ask flippantly. "Should we talk about your nipples?"

"I don't want to talk about anyones nipples." He stresses, and it appears that his patience is running thin. GOOD.

Wait, why is that good?

"Please give me a normal question."

That's hilarious that he thinks I'm capable of being serious right now.

"Ok." I say unconvincingly and his eyes narrow. "On a scale of one to ten," I start normally before springing an attack on him. "HOSEOK'S NIPPLES!"

"STOP IT."

As I sink further into the bench in a fit of giggles, I wonder idly what Hoseok would think if he knew his nipples were so popular today.

Probably scandalized.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," I eventually stop laughing long enough to get this out. It's completely insincere and we both know it. Namjoon has yet to stop glowering at me and I'm laughing so hard I'm crying.

I work hard to think of a normal question, though I am curious to find out what Namjoon would do if he got madder.

I'd bet he'd look ten times hotter and the universe would just laugh at me, because even on my best day I'm still average.

"What's your least favorite thing about me?"

I expected him to reply with something like, 'you're mean.' or 'you're annoying me right now.' or maybe for him to not answer at all and insist that I'm perfect like he's done before.

Rather than any of those, his response is immediate and not one I anticipated, though in retrospect I guess I should have.

"That you think Jin is attractive."

At least he says it with way less antagonism than he did last night. Yet there's still that sting of jealousy in his voice. It rankles my fur enough that I refuse to soothe it a second time. He has to get over it.

I'm mine.

Besides, Namjoon is my bias. It's just that Jin is my bias wrecker.

Wait, what?

I'm so stupid.

What am I even saying?

BooBoo is my bias. Namjoon is my bias wrecker.

Jin maybe comes in seventh, after all the other cats.

"When you first agreed to date me, you said that you liked me a little, but that I liked you more than you liked me." Namjoon picks at the zipper of his jacket instead of looking my way. "Do you...like me more now? More than you did then?"

He's so fucking cute I just—I can't—

"Yes." I answer immediately. "Way more."

His whole body lights up at the admission and there goes my heart, thundering away, probably to an early death of exhaustion thanks to Namjoon.

"Why did you fall off the couch earlier?"

Still beaming, he shrugs. "I don't even know."

What the hell.

"What's your favorite manga?"

"Reimei no Arcana. If you had to fuck either Miss Ahn's square ass or mouth breather Bae's mouth which would you choose?"

"Y/N!" he says my name in a voice comparable to one dad might use if he were to scold me. "THOSE ARE OUR TEACHERS! WHY WOULD YOU PUT THAT IMAGE IN MY HEAD?!?"

"Dude, chill. It's just a question." I shrug, feigning aloofness while dying from laughter on the inside.

Crossing his arms, he glares at me with a look that clearly expresses he thinks there's something wrong with me. I mean, he wouldn't be wrong in that assumption. "You aren't normal."

"I'm sorry," I laugh, "when did I give you the impression I'm normal?"

"I thought you were until today."

How odd. How did he not figure that I wasn't ordinary after I asked if he pooped in the woods in his wolf form? Though I'll give it to him, I am stranger than average during my time of month.

Unfortunately our game comes to an end, and Namjoon is saved from answering the posed question, when the veterinarian finally decides to make her grand entrance.

With a breath of relief I stand from the bench and bring a still angry BooBoo in his carrier over to the exam table. This veterinarian is different from the last one. The former being a smaller pudgy man and this one being a middle aged woman with curly hair and a freakishly long chin. She's more thorough than the last one too, wanting to know how BooBoo is adjusting physically, asking about his diet and the thickness of his fur.

He came out of the crate easily for her, which irritated me a bit. After greeting her cautiously he sat still while she checked his heart rate and spoke of how we could ease his arthritis pain. We were talking about the different medications I could give him while he was being weighed when the vet's eyes scrunched a tad in an almost imperceptible look of concern.

"What is it?" I asked before she'd even finished writing his weight down.

The pen tapped against the clipboard a few times while she flipped through the pages of his chart to look at the older records. "He's lost some weight since he was last seen three weeks ago. Approximately two pounds."

My stomach dropped. I've raised these cats for so long that I know that this is not a good sign. One pound on a cat is the equivalent to fifteen pounds on a human. It was by no means considered normal for anyone to loose thirty pounds ‪in three weeks‬. But how, when, why?"

"Has he shown any signs of feeling ill or lessened activity?"

"I...n-no," I stutter, feeling lost and confused, "not that I've noticed. He's been," I strain my memory to think back on every moment I've seen this cat for the past few weeks. "he's been normal."

Normal. Nothing that says to me he isn't feeling well. Our routine of his greeting me at the door has gone uninterrupted and he shows up for dinner every night. I know his ribs must be causing him some level of discomfort, but that hasn't stopped him from jumping onto lower surfaces. Aside from once with a hairball, he hasn't vomited and his litter box schedule seems the same.

"Could it be the medicine he's been taking for pain management?" Namjoon asks from my side. I jump a little, not having noticed him coming so close.

"It could be." the vet agrees but then turns gentle eyes to me. "It could be nothing, but I believe it would be best if we look into it. Just some blood tests to make sure there's nothing going on internally."

That's probably going to cost dad an arm and leg and a sacrifice to the gods, but he's never once complained about vet costs to me. In fact, he's always maintained that I spend what they need and told me not to worry about it. So I agree with the vet's request, feeling numb but holding on to the hope that what Namjoon suggested is right, and that this is all caused by something as simple as a bad side affect of the medicine.

But deep down, I know he's wrong. BooBoo is my baby, but he's older than me. In cat years he's nearly a hundred. The day where he would have to leave me was inevitable and—

Stop.

Nothing is decided. The medical professional told you that it may be nothing. Don't freak out. It's going to be fine. BooBoo still has some life left in him. You just thought about it. He's shown no signs of feeling ill.

Feeling as if something heavy has settled on my chest, I hold my cat close while the vet draws blood. Unlike when we had to bring Lucifairy to get her shots (that was an adventure from hell) BooBoo has always been good about this, not even flinching during the process. Still, I've always felt like I've wronged him when I bring him here, so I make a mental note to spoil him extra tonight.

The vet prescribes him an appetite stimulant, a special food to get his weight back up, and refills his pain meds.

I force away any negative feelings and cling to that thread of hope, as thin as it might be. No matter what I have to stay positive, if for no other reason than to hold myself together in front of BooBoo. Since he's never once neglected me when I cried, it leaves me with the idea that he must hate it when I do so. Someone told me once that cats can feel their human's emotions.

I'm not sure if that's true, but I know that BooBoo has always been there when I needed comfort. So for now, I'm going to stay calm and watch over him, just like he's always done for me.

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Edited 9/22/21