Catalyst

Part 2

I woke up on the couch, covered with a blanket and a throw pillow under my head. Sitting up slowly, I let out a groan as the throbbing in my head intensified. 

"The oven!" I stood up too quickly, and collapsed back onto the couch, my head spinning. 

"Take it easy, Y/n. You must have hit your head pretty hard." 

I stiffened at the sound of the man's voice, and slowly turned my head to see who was in my apartment. 

Hobi smiled at me and took a seat next to me on the couch. 

"I knocked, but you didn't answer, so I used the spare key you gave me." Hobi smiled, flashing his dimples at me. Then his face took on a more serious look. "Are you okay? You were passed out on the floor."

"Yeah." I rubbed the back of my head and found a large knot had formed from the impact. "I think I fainted." 

"Do you need to go to the hospital?" 

"No, I think I'll be okay," I said with a weak smile. 

Hobi leaned in, our faces only inches apart, and his dark eyes searched mine. "I don't think you have a concussion. Your pupils aren't dilated." He leaned back and gave me a reassuring smile. 

 "Oh!" Hobi jumped up, ran to the front door, and came back with two grocery bags. "I brought you Stanley's extra litter box, some litter, and some cat food." 

"Hobi, you are an angel! Thank you."

"Where is the little guy?"

I scanned the living room, but didn't see Not-Stanley. I also noticed the lack of orange haired man. Maybe it was a hallucination? Or a dream? 

After a quick search of the apartment, I found Not-Stanley nestled on the end of my bed. I picked him up and presented him to Hobi. With a wide smile, Hobi scooped the cat out of my arms and held Not-Stanley to his chest. 

"Aren't you a handsome boy? You look so much like my Stanley!" Hobi cooed. Not-Stanley began to flail and jumped from Hobi's arms. 

The cat purred and rubbed against my legs. "Huh. Maybe he prefers women?" 

"I guess so," Hobi said while looking dejected. 

I picked up the cat, holding him like a baby, and rubbed his belly. 

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" 

"Yeah, I feel fine now. Must have been low blood sugar, or something."

"Okay." I could tell Hobi didn't fully believe me, but he wasn't going to press the issue. "I'll head home then. But if you need anything, I'm right next door."

"Thank you, Hobi." I set the cat down, and walked Hobi to the front door. "And thank you for the litter box. I'll return it tomorrow."  

"Whenever is fine." Hobi gave me a quick hug, and stepped outside. "Have a good night, Y/n!" 

"Good night, Hobi." 

I locked the door behind him, and walked into the kitchen. The oven had been turned off, and the glass baking dish was still on the counter. I noticed my large frying pan was soaking in the sink. I checked the fridge and freezer, but couldn't find the tilapia. I found the fish in the microwave. Hobi must have pan fried it while I was passed out on the couch. Weird, slightly invasive, but sweet. I was famished so I wasn't too put out. 

I noticed my rice cooker was on, and found freshly cooked rice when I lifted the lid. Also weird. But it's best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

"Can we eat now? I'm starving." 

I grabbed the frying pan out of the sink as I spun around to face the intruder. 

"Who the fuck are you?!" I pointed my frying pan at the orange haired man standing a few feet away. He took a step back.

"Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." He put his hands up in front of him, palms facing me to show he was unarmed. 

"How did you get in here?!"

He chuckled and seemed to relax a little, lowering his arms. "You literally carried me in." 

I blinked at him a few times, trying to process his words. "What?" 

"The cat. Not-Stanley." 

"What?! Are you on drugs?"

"Technically? No." 

"Get out!" I stepped closer, swinging the frying pan. 

"Wait! Just hear me out!" He dodged my attack. "Hold on! Hold on!" 

He stood in place with his eyes closed as cat whiskers suddenly sprouted from his cheeks. 

My arms and jaw went slack. "What the actual fuck?" 

I shook my head, and took up my battle stance once more. Frying pan at the ready. 

"Please don't make me change completely. Have you ever tried changing your entire skeleton? That shit hurts." 

I didn't move. 

"Okay, okay." He pointed to his face, "Look at my eyes." 

I gripped the frying pan's handle tighter. "Keep your hands up."

"Of course," he nodded. "Just watch." 

I watched as his irises turned from deep brown to a warm pumpkin orange. His pupils contracted into vertical slits. I was looking into the eyes of a cat. 

"Who are you?" I whispered, awestruck. 

"My name is Jimin."