minsung one shots

gentle disasters

ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ
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fluff / 11363
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mrs. park had caught him at the worst possible moment - or maybe the best, depending on who told the story.

it was a warm, syrupy afternoon, the kind where the sun didn’t just shine but draped itself gently over every surface, making the hallway outside minho’s apartment glow like it had been lightly painted in honey. he had been unlocking his door, humming some random tune under his breath, feeling that little spark of satisfaction that came from finishing work earlier than expected. jisung wouldn’t be back until later, the apartment would be quiet, and all he had planned was to collapse on the couch and do absolutely nothing for at least two hours.

and then the door next to his creaked open.

“minho dear,” came the soft, ever-gentle voice of mrs. park.

he froze with his key half-turned in the lock - not because he disliked her. quite the opposite. she was impossible to dislike. tiny, always smelling faintly of lavender, always smiling with that warm, grandmotherly softness that dissolved every chance he had at saying anything other than yes.

“oh, hi mrs. park,” he said, turning to her with a small smile. “everything okay?”

he should’ve noticed the way she held her hands together, the uneasy rocking on her feet, the sort of hesitant inhale that said she wasn’t just greeting him. hindsight was cruel like that - showing you all the signs you completely ignored in the moment.

“i hate to bother you,” she began, and minho already felt himself giving in, because she always started her requests like that, the kind that weren’t really requests but tiny, gentle tugs on your heart. “really, i do. but i’m in a bit of a situation.”

oh no, he thought. oh no, oh no, oh no.

“of course,” he said. “what’s going on?”

she brightened a little at his response, even though her knitting-needles-tight fingers gave away her nerves. “i need to stay overnight with my sister. poor thing strained her back again. and i know it’s so last minute, but i couldn’t find anyone else who’s free and trustworthy. and i thought… well, maybe… just for today…” she paused and gave him that sweet, elderly smile, soft and hopeful. “could you watch my cats?”

cats.

plural.

not cat.

not one little furball that could probably be handled with minimal chaos.

cats.

and mrs. park didn’t have “a few.” she had five. five cats with five personalities and five sets of paws ready to test every boundary known to humankind.

but she looked at him like he was her hero for even listening.

so what else could he do?

minho sighed softly and nodded. “yeah… i can do that.”

“oh, thank you, dear,” she said, clasping his hands in hers before he could reconsider. “i swear they’re angels. perfect little angels. you won’t even notice they’re there.”

he didn’t believe that. not for a second. but she seemed so relieved, so thankful, and she was sixty-four and sweet and had given him homemade cookies more than once - who was he to disappoint her?

so he followed her into her apartment, and if he had been smart, he would have asked for details. instructions. warnings. evacuation procedures.

but he didn’t.