Soft Hearts, Sharp Claws

They told Jisung to be careful with this one.

They used words like "calculated", "emotionally disconnected", and "selectively mute." They said he doesn't bite - unless he wants to. They warned Jisung not to get attached, not to get comfortable.

They never said he'd be beautiful.

Jisung watches from behind the glass. The hybrid stands barefoot on the cold concrete floor, black tail flicking absently behind him like the second hand of a quiet clock. Minho. Cat-type. Government-labeled "unfit for civilian adoption" - until now.

His ears twitch once. He's heard Jisung arrive.

Minho doesn't look at him.

He never does.

That's the first thing Jisung notices about him - the deliberate ignorance. Most hybrids observe. Most hybrids flinch. Minho doesn't. Minho waits. Like a storm.

Like a trap.

The case file says he hasn't spoken in months. Not since the last handler, whose name is redacted. Jisung shouldn't be curious about that. But he is.

He also shouldn't feel anything when the hybrid finally glances over his shoulder - just once - eyes flickering gold in the fluorescent light.

He's not supposed to feel... watched.

"You can open the door," a voice says behind him.

Jisung hesitates.

"I thought he was considered-" he starts, but the officer shrugs.

"Dangerous? Yeah. But he likes the quiet ones."

The door hisses open, and Jisung steps into the room. The air shifts immediately - cold, clinical, but the tension in his spine isn't from the chill.

It's the way Minho tilts his head. The way he breathes.
The way his eyes trail him like Jisung is the one being evaluated.

"You're not scared," Minho says.

Not a question. The first words he's spoken in half a year.

And it's not Minho's voice that startles Jisung.
It's the way it makes his chest tighten. Like he's just stepped into a room that locks from the inside.