Mingled Round 🍭 ateez slash challenge [⏯]

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bottom!Hongjoong
Top!Wooyoung

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1:02 PM — DAEHAN UNIVERSITY, SEOUL

Hongjoong was a man of routine, allergic to spontaneity and impervious to social trends. Cafés, hangout spots, student lounges—utterly foreign territory.

His world was lecture halls, his dorm room, and the library’s quietest corners. Anything beyond that perimeter might as well have been the Moon.

So when Choi San—barely an acquaintance from Optics Mineralogy—suggested they meet off-campus to work on an assignment, Hongjoong’s internal alarms blared. The location? Kafeega Bisadaha. One mile from campus. Just one mile—but it felt like a hundred.

"A new place with strong Wi-Fi," San had said.

"Our campus has Wi-Fi," Hongjoong replied.

San had smiled, nonchalant. "Yeah, but it doesn’t have a change of scenery."

Against his instincts, Hongjoong had relented. He didn’t like conflict, and San, who juggled taekwondo, classes, and an impossible number of extracurriculars, wasn’t someone you said ‘no’ to without a good reason.

They agreed to meet at 3:00 PM. Hongjoong arrived at 2:41.

Typical, he thought.

Too early to walk in without looking awkward. Too weird to loiter outside. He entered, steeling himself.

"Name on the reservation?" asked a smiling waitress.

Reservation? He blinked. “Uh … I just got here.”

She tilted her iPad. “Your friend may have booked for you. Name?”

“Choi San.”

A quick tap. “Yes. Table for two. Hongjoong and San.”

Of course. San had made a reservation and said nothing. That boy had the manners of a hurricane.

The waitress led him to a private room. “Order on the screen, and your items will be delivered here.”

Private rooms? This was no ordinary café.

Pastel pink walls. Minimalist furniture. Soft ambient music laced with synthesized harp sounds. Oddly shaped structures—curved wood cages, hollow arches—decorated the room like abstract art.

Curious, he browsed the digital menu and chose a honey milk tea. Simple. Safe.

As he settled into his chair, something brushed against his leg.

He froze.

Then came the meow.

One cat. Then two.

No. No no no.

They poured from the strange cage-like fixtures—dozens of them. Eyes gleaming, tails swaying. Silent. Predatory.

“Shoo! Shoo!” he cried, backing against the wall. His pulse jackhammered. Terror clawed up his throat.

He stepped away—and his foot brushed another feline.

They were everywhere.

He screamed.

Wooyoung had just finished polishing a countertop when the alert came through his headset.

“Room Five. Emergency.”

“What kind?”

“Romeo again?” A voice chuckled.

“No. Customer panic. Just get there.”

When he entered Room Five, he wasn’t prepared for the chaos.

A boy—no, a young man—clung to the corner like a fugitive. His eyes wide. Breathing erratic. Surrounded by a dozen lounging cats who looked like they owned the room.

"Sir," Wooyoung said gently, “it's okay. They won't hurt you.”

“GET THEM AWAY!”

Wooyoung acted fast, herding the cats with practiced ease, but they slinked back toward the trembling figure.

"Sir, take my hand."

"I can’t—I can’t touch them!"

Without hesitation, Wooyoung crouched. “Then climb on my back.”

“… What?”

“Trust me.”

The boy hesitated. Then legs shaking, he obeyed.

Wooyoung hoisted him with ease. Light as air, he thought. Fragile. Shivering.

"Aisha, I need full removal. Now."

"Copy. I'm bringing treats."

Minutes later, the cats were gone. Peace returned. The boy, still on edge, was sipping his honey milk tea with trembling hands.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I didn’t know this was a cat café. San didn’t say."

Wooyoung laughed softly. “You’re not the first. But definitely the most dramatic.”

The door burst open. San appeared, breathless. “Hongjoong! Seonghwa told me—God, I didn’t know you were scared of cats. I swear, I had no idea—”

Hongjoong managed a tired smile. “It’s okay. Your friend helped.”

San turned to Wooyoung. “Seriously. Thank you. You saved him from a full meltdown.”

Wooyoung nodded. “Glad I could help. Now—what can I get for you?”

“Same drink. His looks good.”

Wooyoung looked at Hongjoong and smiled. “Excuse me.” Then he left.

For a moment, the room was quiet. Calm. Almost … warm.

Hongjoong touched his still-warm cheeks, embarrassed. But somewhere beneath the panic, something fluttered. A strange kind of admiration.

And as for Wooyoung—he found himself wondering if maybe, after his shift, he could ask San for that boy’s number.

Because even in hell—even in the belly of a cat-infested purgatory—some angels existed.