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Mar 2

wolfish behavior [chapter 4]

[kpdh, polytrix, werewolf rumi, college professor rumi, vet zoey, designer mira, this is just fluff, and a romcom, lmfao!!!, but light family angst]

Summary: Next door neighbor Mira saves the afternoon, Dr. Choi finally meets the elusive Muri, and Jinu leaves a first impression!

We are uploading onto Tumblr like the good 'ol days (of literally 2 months ago lmfao, im sorry i ever stopped)

Ch 4 spoilers under cut (extremely long wall of text too)

Mira’s surprised to see Rumi in sweatpants and a hoodie.

She’s never seen her in anything so casual before, and the outfit is an odd choice considering the 'extremely important work-related emergency' that Rumi's apparently needed for. It makes her look a bit more youthful—more relaxed, even if the tense set of her shoulders suggests otherwise.

Rumi makes it work. Still elegant, still bafflingly beautiful.

“Um.” Mira takes the observation and then puts it aside and does absolutely nothing about it. "Hi."

"You're here." Rumi mumbles it out, still partially obscured by her front door. Mira can hear a tinge of disbelief in her voice.

"Of course I am," Mira replies curtly, a little annoyed because, "I said I would be."

She takes it very seriously when she gives people her word.

"Well," Rumi beckons her in, the hesitant look on her face growing into a kind smile. Mira finds her brief annoyance quickly fizzling away. "Come on in."

She slips out of her shoes before following Rumi into her apartment. She's offered water and tea, which she happily accepts, and some food in case she's hungry—a choice between steak fried rice or galbi. Mira thanks her but declines, having just had lunch.

They stop somewhere in the living room, and Mira takes a seat at the dining table while Rumi gets some tea started while talking her through a quick tour of the place.

Rumi's apartment is picture-perfect—but it's so very gray. And beige. And neutral.

It's stylish, for sure, but muted like her hoodie and her sweatpants and the nondescript black sneakers. The space is immaculately clean, not a single hair out of place, save for a bit of clutter by her kitchen countertops. It looks like Rumi was putting away lunch when she arrived. Mira notes that there aren’t any vegetables in sight.

(Then off-handedly remembers that she's always cooked too much food for herself—would Rumi maybe like some?)

Rumi does have a lot of plants.

They litter the space in every corner they might catch some sunlight, with leaves that bring out a desperately needed pop of color to the area. She also has an abundance of books, her living room flanked by towering shelves lining the walls, organized in a way that Mira hasn't figured out yet. At the center of it all is her living room set: a simple couch and a recliner across the TV, separated by a glass coffee table. Tucked away into a corner by a window is a dog bed and a pair of bowls right next to it—strangely out of place.

It’s cozy enough, overall, if a bit overly practical. It's easy to imagine Rumi curled up and lost in a book on that recliner, whisked away to a world that Mira can only hope is a bit more vibrant than the space she keeps herself in, and somehow Mira can imagine one of her cats—Fucci, maybe?—curling up by the arm of the seat as Rumi reads.

It's impressively well-kept. She'll have to ask Rumi how she deals with all the shedding and the fur.

When Rumi finally returns with tea served in a silly mug that says 'I <3 Math', Mira smiles. "I'm surprised you have a dog instead of a cat."

"Cats have never quite liked me, remember?" Rumi laughs.

"Boff liked you well enough," Mira wraps her slender fingers around the warm drink and mumbles a quiet 'thank you'.

Rumi grins. "Boff probably likes everyone."

"That's true," Mira takes a sip of the tea. Bergamot rose—it's very good. "He does. Fucci could be a good second attempt."

Rumi leans on her forearms against one of the dining chairs, gravitating into Mira's space. "Should I try bribery with snacks?"

"Tough luck." Mira laughs. "That won't work."

"No?" Rumi smiles, fiddling with her hands. "Well, I'll figure him out yet."

There's a promise there—something that Mira doesn't know how to unpack, but then she remembers that Rumi is supposedly in a hurry today. She hates to say it, but: "What about your meeting?"

Rumi gives her a blank look. "My what?"

"Mega important work meeting?"

Mira sees her buffering in real time for good minute before something visibly clicks.

"Oh." Rumi straightens up, checks her watch. "That meeting. Right. Right, yeah, I should probably go now."

"Aren't you going to show me Muri first?"

"Ah, she's asleep." Rumi waves her off, quickly picking up her keys and her phone. "You'll be totally fine, I promise."

Mira gets up as Rumi starts walking to the front door, still holding her mug of tea. Rumi had darted out of the living room so quickly she's having a hard time keeping up. "Wait, Rumi, is there anything I need to know first before Dr. Choi arrives?"

"I told her everything—it should be fine!" Rumi promises, already opening the locks.

"Do I need to feed her?"

"Oh, no," Rumi's halfway out the door. "She had lunch already! Um, surf and turf, I believe?"

Mira's probably making an obviously confused expression because Rumi starts waving her hands and goes:

"It's a kibble flavor." They make surf and turf flavored dog food? "Very good for dog nutrition."

"Okay."

"I have to go." Rumi points over her shoulder. "Sorry! But when I leave, you can just turn this knob and—"

"I know how to lock a door."

"Right. Of course," Rumi chuckles apologetically.

There's a train of protests ready to spill out of Mira's mouth—but then Rumi's looking at her with such a sincere expression of gratitude that she swallows it all down. Good lord. She must be having a pretty tough week.

"Thank you, Mira."

Mira huffs out a sigh, eyes drifting sideways as she rubs the back of her neck.

"Of course."

The door shuts closed and Rumi starts fucking running.

"Fuck my life, fuck my life, fuck my life—"

She sprints down her apartment stairwell, skipping over every other step and trying her best not to faceplant down the landing. There's a stupid pile of boxes at the top of the second flight of stairs and she vaults over them with a curse, her mind already forming a strongly-worded letter to Downstairs Neighbor Min, then she lands gracefully and keeps going until she bursts through the doors—narrowly avoiding a young man carrying a stack of pizza boxes trying to get into their building.

"Sorry!" She apologizes but doesn't stop, pushed onwards by her momentum.

She can make it in five minutes, give or take, if she moves quickly enough.

Not quite knowing what to do with herself, Mira sits down on Rumi's couch and pulls out her phone. When she unlocks it, the first thing she sees is the conversation between herself and Rumi in her messages app: just a quick exchange of their names so they knew what to save each other's contact number as.

Maybe she should wish her luck? She seemed nervous.

Mira hesitantly types out: 'gl'

Seems a bit sparse though. She backtracks and instead types: 'dont trip lol'

But that didn't really make sense. She thinks about it a little more—hates the fact that she's agonizing over a text message—then finally settles on something and hits send with a smug little smile.

[Kang Mira [14:10]: 'take care lol. ur dog is running late again tho.']

She's joking in the message, of course. But there's also a little bit of apprehension there because everything happened so fast—like, she hasn't even met this giant dog she's apparently supposed to supervise.

By the time Rumi makes it to the back of the building, she's desperate and out of breath and has narrowly avoided two pedestrian full-body collisions. She spots the fire escape overhead and holy shit—why'd she have to live on the third fucking floor? Suddenly the corner unit with the amazing windows isn't all that worth it, but whatever.

She jumps up and grabs the lowest rung of the rusted ladder, her legs swinging back and forth as she hangs from it like a long and lanky frog, and then she pulls herself upwards—suddenly grateful for that one summer she got really into bouldering.

Rumi makes it to the lowest landing, quickly hauling herself up to the platform and climbing the rest of the ladders in earnest. She makes quick work of clearing the second story, one rung after another, her pace frantic and almost careless. The metal rings underneath the impact of her hands and feet.

There's a deadline to meet. Hopefully Mira hasn't checked the bedroom yet.

She should probably go check the bedroom.

Mira presses her palms to her knees, leaning forward for a minute before standing up and stretching. Reluctant as she is to poke and prod around someone else's house, she's inevitably going to need to wake Muri up before Dr. Choi arrives. She walks across the living room and for a second, she thinks she hears something loud and metallic clanging around from outside one of the windows.

Weird.

She ignores it and continues to the hallway.

A quick check of Rumi's watch tells her it's only been about four minutes, though she doesn't really have time to be smug about it, standing with one foot on the edge of a platform and the other trying to find a ledge, or anything. God this whole thing is so stupid. She's starting to feel a bit of strain along her bicep as she holds herself steady with some sort of pipe, her other hand trying to slide her bedroom window fully open. The wind whips through her hair. Her blood is pumping from the sheer thrill of it all.

Hopefully her neighbors weren't looking—or the people who regularly take walks around their block on Saturday afternoon. Could she even be arrested for breaking and entering if it was to her own apartment?

The window pane finally slides up, and Rumi leans forward and drops into her bedroom, knocking over a plant on the dresser by her window. She hits the floor with a thud but manages to catch it in her outstretched hand, sighing in relief. There's no time to put it back though, not when she can hear footsteps down the hallway.

"Holy fuck."

There's a bit more noise, a dull thud, some shuffling. Mira hesitates as she approaches the bedroom, pausing to listen in through the door. Muri must be awake now.

Mira pulls out her phone and sends Rumi another text message:

[Kang Mira [14:17]: 'do i just open the bedroom door?']

She puts a little thinking emoji and hits send.

There's a faint buzzing sound in the distance, but the message remains unread. Figures—Rumi's probably still driving. Mira crosses her arms and taps along her elbow.

That's when she sees the framed photo on the wall.

It's a photo of a country house—an old, sprawling traditional estate somewhere by a seaside town. At the edges of the photo she can see a hint of surrounding forest. The photo's a bit faded now, but despite its dull colors she can tell that it was a sunny afternoon that day. There's a beautiful woman with long, dark hair kneeling down in what must be the front yard of the estate, wearing soiled business clothes and gardening gloves. Standing in front of her with a toothy grin is a small Rumi.

Mira's lips curl into a smile.

Rumi's in a dress with a ribbon in her braided hair, holding up a flower pot, while the woman has a hand laying gently on her shoulder. They're both looking at the camera. Off to the side is a little boy with black hair holding a flower pot of his own and a small trowel, caught in the middle of a laugh. There's a name at the edge of the photo—Kwae Mi-soon—and the whole thing feels less like a picture and more like a memory. Mira wonders if it's a good one, or a bad one, or something a little bit in the middle.

Rumi kicks off her shoes as quietly as she can, stumbling around in her own room with barely-whispered curses. She makes quick work to shuck off her clothes.

The hoodie goes first, pulled over her head and thrown to the floor, then her cotton shirt and bra. She hooks her hands into her sweatpants—tries not to think about Mira outside in her living room—and tugs both her pants and her underwear down in one movement. Rumi hears her phone buzz, and her watch lights up with a text notification—she sees it's from Mira, followed by the tail end of a message:

'—bedroom door?'

Oh no. Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

She's naked wearing nothing but her socks and a watch. She sees a shadow move in the bottom gap of her doorway—and holy fuck: a beautiful, wonderful woman is standing at the other side of it. She hears a soft, tentative knock.

"Muri?"

When Mira opens the door she's met with a pair of haunting, yellow eyes.

Muri is unlike anything she could have possibly imagined.

For starters—she kind of doesn't look like a dog? Mira's no expert though, and she can hardly imagine what else Muri might be if not a dog. She's got a muzzle, paws, adorable ears, and a tail. Standard dog ingredients in a typical dog arrangement—so probably a dog. Maybe one of those strange, lesser-known kinds. Dr. Choi would probably know better.

But the thing is, well, Muri is huge. Bigger than any dog she's ever seen, with gigantic paws and a thick tail curled around strong haunches that she's seated on, eerie and still. She's beautiful, too. Almost regal as she sits at the center of the room—and it's comical how well she and Rumi seem to complement each other in this way. Her fur is gray, like dark slate, and it must be a trick of the sunlight, how it looks purple along her back, ears, and the tip of her tail. The color fades into white along her underbelly, paws, and muzzle.

She seems to have made a complete mess of Rumi's bedroom.

There's a plant on the floor and clothes everywhere with shoes and bedsheets astrewn. Mira raises an eyebrow at the dog, and makes a quick judgement from what little she knows of Rumi so far. "I think you might be in trouble with your mom when she gets back."

Muri makes a strange little sound: tentative, curious?

She doesn't at all seem aggressive, just like Rumi promised. She just sits there like she's waiting for something, unsure of what to do next, if a dog could even feel that way. For the most part, Muri seems much more observant than other dogs she's seen in her life.

Mira steps inside despite her apprehension, slowly, then sinks down to a crouch.

Muri just keeps watching her.

Her eyes are intelligent in ways Mira can hardly explain or understand—but she can see it, feel it: there's some sort of recognition there, an active assessment of what she'll do next. It's unnerving—it's fascinating.

She holds out her hand and waits—the moment stretching on with the ticking of Rumi's overhead clock. There is space between them, space enough that she will leave up to Muri to cross.

Mira can see the steady rise and fall of her breathing. She looks at Muri, really looks, and the way that Muri's staring at her outstretched hand makes Mira think she's afraid of it—her posture tense and hesitant.

"Come on," Mira beckons. "It's okay. You're alright," she coos.

Muri slowly rises up to her full height—and that's when Mira realizes the true extent of her size. She walks closer, each step of her giant paws a heavy thud that Mira can feel across the floorboards, and she's so warm, even without them touching yet: almost like a heater, radiating warmth in a way she's never quite felt on an animal before. She wonders if it's a fever, or if this is just normal for oversized dogs.

Muri pauses centimeters away from her hand. Mira approaches her with her palm facing downwards, going slowly to see if she can maybe hold her somewhere by her head. Muri dips forward, low, and then she makes a noise like she's stopping herself from whining—choked up and cut off.

When Mira tries to pet her between her ears, Muri jerks backwards, pausing to stare at her hand—and then at her. It's such a human action that it feels a bit unreal. Mira doesn't flinch away though, she reaches forward and tries again, letting her fingertips run lightly along the fur on her forehead, until she feels Muri relax and nuzzle up into her palm—her eyes somehow closing. Muri goes dreadfully still, even as Mira brings up another hand to gently rub her muzzle, then cheek, pressing soothing lines down the thick fur of her neck. It's a little tangled in some parts, but beautiful still.

Muri just sits there, quiet, breathing.

"Have you not been held like this before?"

Mira doesn't understand why her chest tightens, but it does—she can feel it ache a as she runs her fingers behind Muri's ears again, feels the way that she shivers and almost collapses under the gentle weight of her palm.

Mira's brows draw together.

"Does she not hold you?"

It's a nice apartment in a nice part of town, hardly a surprise given what Zoey's seen of Ryu Rumi.

Honestly, she's hyped herself up to be ready for any sort of surprise: like what if Muri turns out to be an overfed Tibetan Mastiff, or what if Rumi is exceptionally incompetent at pet-having and described everything wrong and actually has a little chihuahua—or, even more dramatically—what if everything's just a ruse and there's no dog at all?

Okay—that last one is a bit of a long shot, but one of her favorite hobbies is to indulge her overactive imagination, so indulge it she shall. She thinks of increasingly ridiculous ways this meeting could go. Like Muri talking. Or Rumi having just imagined a giant pet dog that befriended a badger named Jeremy after she suffers from a concussion falling down the stairs telenovela-style and now has to regain her memories or, or, or—

The door to Rumi's apartment swings open—and Zoey was ready for a lot of things, sure, but she wasn't ready for the pretty face staring back at her.

"Mira?"

(Mira thinks about that later on—the way she called her just Mira. Not Mira-nim, or Kang Mira. She saw everything she needed to in the half-second Dr. Choi was caught off-guard: the recognition, the pleasant surprise.)

Mira awkwardly shifts her weight between her feet—and Zoey can't help but notice that she's so tall. Like, she knows this already—it isn't their first time meeting—but when they're standing toe-to-toe like this it becomes so jarringly obvious.

"Well," Zoey smiles, fiddling with the hem of her scrubs. "You're definitely not Kwae Jinu."

Not that she's complaining, but she could have sworn Rumi and Mira just met each other at her clinic a few days ago. Did she have that all wrong? Have they known each other long enough that Mira is apparently dog sitting for Rumi?

"Nope." Mira steps back to give her space to enter through the doorway, and so Zoey follows. "I guess Rumi forgot to tell you that Jinu couldn't make it either?"

"Looks like it," Zoey has a million questions and is happy to ask them all but decides to save them for later, at a better time. She's here on the clock, so she starts going through the motions as professionally as expected of her. They exchange a round of quick pleasantries as she leaves her shoes by the doorway, declines Mira's offer to carry her bags for her, cute as that was, and does a quick scan of the hallway they're at—noting a distinct lack of excitable or nervous barking.

It's eerily quiet. Suspiciously, even.

Zoey's about to comment on it as they walk towards the living room to meet Muri, but then she happens to glance into what looks to be Rumi's bedroom.

She doesn't mean to—the door was left wide open. The last thing Zoey wants to do is be nosy, but it happens so quickly and imagery sears itself into her mind: the disheveled sheets, the clothes strewn about all over the floor.

The look on Mira's face.

"It's not—" Mira sputters, cheeks reddening. "Muri was, uh, when I found her she was—"

But Zoey's at work, so she doesn't say anything. Even as her eyebrow inches up.

"Show me to Muri, please?"

Okay.

So.

The first thing Zoey notices about Rumi's dog is that it's not a fucking dog.

But, like, that's impossible—right? Because this not-dog, this probably-a-wolf, is sitting with her front legs crossed like she's about to get photographed for the January edition of The Modern Pet Magazine instead of howling to the high heavens—the same high heavens that her blood pressure is about to reach in record time.

It's both extremely confusing but also unmistakeable: the shape of her eyes, and her tail, and her paws—contrasting with how perfectly comfortable she looks on Rumi's spotless living room carpet.

She drops her bag, hand coming up to rub along her brow because what the actual fuck is happening?

They're just standing there in silence, like a three-way duel in high-noon: Muri staring at Zoey, Zoey staring at Muri, and Mira kind of just looking between the two of them in quickly-escalating concern.

"Um," Mira clears her throat. "Everything good?"

"Oh," Zoey mutters under her breath. "I'm going to kill her."

"Who?"

"Rumi." Zoey finally moves to fish out a clipboard from her bag with Muri's file, and a pen. She gives it a click. Then four more. "Depending on how this goes."

Muri makes the saddest, wettest little whimper Zoey had ever heard in her career. Muri's head dips down, and her ears flatten backwards. It works and it confuses Zoey even more, because now she just wants to come up there and give her a little belly rub so she won't be sad anymore. Might not be a dog, but she sure is awfully cute when she wants to be!

When Mira settles down on the carpet next to Muri, Zoey's alarm bells come back in full volume, especially when she reaches out to scratch lightly behind Muri's ears.

"Okay!" Zoey blurts out. "I don't think she's a dog."

"What?"

"And I'm kind of freaking out watching you give her little ear scritches, lowkey!"

"Wait, wait, hold up—"

Zoey starts pacing and vaguely gesturing towards them, wanting to pull out her hair. "It's giving—she's a wolf? A wolf-dog? Which, like, is a whole thing. It's kind of up-in-the-air whether or not they're legal here—but genuinely she looks a lot more wolf than she does dog. And the whole wolf-dog-owning thing is," she laughs nervously, "generally frowned-upon for reasons that I could talk to you about all day, or maybe over a coffee, but—" Zoey pauses. "Oh my god. Why is she looking at me like that? Why is she making a sad little baby face at me?"

Such a familiar pitiful face too!

"A wolf?" Mira looks like she’s still trying to catch up to everything Zoey just said. "Muri? Like this dog right here? Like—you've seen her, right?"

"Yes. I have eyes." Zoey groans. "I am looking at her with my eyes—and my doctorate degree in veterinary medicine. And she sure looks like a wolf to me!"

But there's this one confusing thing about it all—one glaring fact that's throwing a wrench in her assumptions.

Muri's behaving like a perfectly-trained show dog.

She's barely moved from her spot on the carpet next to Mira—and that's just so weird.

There's no hyperactive pacing, none of the furniture looks chewed out and broken, the couch is pristine and Muri seems responsive to gestures and words from humans—though her body language is strangely apologetic for a canine. It's honestly giving her a headache.

The headache grows twice as strong when Mira says: "I can't imagine that Rumi—or her aunt, or whatever—managed to teach a wolf how to follow dog commands? Cause she can do stuff like, I don’t know, shake hands."

Zoey whips her head around to stare at Mira. "She can do what?"

"Look," Mira holds out her hand. "Muri—shake hands?"

Muri somehow stares at Mira with a deadpan expression, sighs, then dutifully lifts up her heavy paw and gently places it atop Mira's palm.

They shake on it.

"Other hand?"

Muri executes it flawlessly.

Mira looks oddly proud of her. "I think she can add, too. One plus one?”

Muri baps the floor with a paw twice.

“One plus two?”

She does it thrice.

“What the fuck.” Zoey whispers. “What’s next? The square root of nine?”

Muri hesitates—then taps the floor thrice.

“What the fuck.”

“That has to be a fluke,” Mira hums. “What about roll over?”

Muri pauses at that for a minute—like she's figuring out which side she should roll towards. Then there's the oddly awkward ordeal of Muri walking around to find a good spot and then trying to get down to her side. She stops to look over the shoulder. Zoey swears she's checking to see if she'd hit anything. Then she rolls over. Gets back up. Looks at the both of them expectantly.

Zoey is so, so confused.

"Whoa!" Mira looks pleasantly surprised. "That's sick. I didn't know she could actually do that."

“So you’re surprised she can roll over but not that she can do the square root of three?”

Muri starts vocalizing before Mira can respond, like a talkative husky, yowling and barking while she paws at Mira with great gentleness. It's odd enough to make Zoey laugh incredulously. Just when you thought you've seen it all!

Zoey turns to Mira. She's still apprehensive but is now comfortable enough to approach them, lowering herself to a crouch. "How long have you known Muri?"

"Honestly, like, twenty minutes?"

"What?"

"This was kind of a last-minute favor for Rumi."

"Did she at least brief you on Muri's history and behavior, or—"

"She kind of just left?"

Zoey pinches the bridge of her nose. "The more I learn about this woman."

Zoey deludes herself into thinking that Muri's probably just a really weird husky mix.

It's enough to convince her to carry on with the check-up. She goes over a list of expectations with Mira, who—despite the fact that she was just roped into this whole thing—listens with rapt attention, taking notes and asking thoughtful follow-up questions.

She begins the actual check-up with a quick observation of how Muri walks, her body language, and her breathing. Zoey goes slowly despite Muri's easy disposition, lowering herself to the carpet next to her and careful not to startle her.

"I'm going to check for any abnormalities along her coat or skin, okay?" She says it mostly for Mira's benefit—but for a minute there it almost looks like Muri nods too.

"Gotcha."

Zoey starts with the head and trails down to Muri's neck, moving with a series of gentle, exploratory touches and pats using her hands, feeling for any bumps or spots of tenderness. Muri tenses at first but quickly relaxes.

"She likes being held," Mira offers. "But I think it takes her a minute to get used to it."

"That's helpful," Zoey smiles. "Thanks."

Zoey then goes through her legs one at a time, inspecting each limb and paw carefully. Muri stays perfectly still—sitting just the way that Zoey needs her to.

"Good job," Zoey whispers softly, scratching under her jaw, gently running a hand down her neck and side. Muri's tail thumps against the floor as it wags. "You're doing amazing, sweetheart. But we're going to have to have a few firm conversations with your mom. And maybe bring you in for a trip to the groomer's—your beautiful fur is matted in some parts!"

Muri yeowls—but it's soft, like a whine. Her ears flatten again, much to Zoey's amusement.

"Oh, look at you, you pitiful thing." Zoey croons. "Don't worry, you are doing a wonderful job! What an angel."

Zoey giggles at the way Muri excitedly turns her head towards her, ear twitching and everything. After checking in with her chart, Zoey takes the stethoscope hanging around her neck and starts listening in for any irregularities in her lungs, her heartbeat, then for the pulse by her leg.

"Juuust like that," Zoey says sweetly. She gives Muri a pat on the thigh once she's through. "You did so good again!"

All the praise is well-deserved: Muri has so far been patient, curious, and intelligent throughout the examination. She's a fascinating creature so far. Sometimes it feels like she could understand them.

Zoey pauses for a short break, turning to glance towards Mira. She's sitting on the couch and cradling a silly mug.

"My brother has a similar mug," Zoey says, leaning back on her heels and hanging the stethoscope around her neck again. At this point, she wants to begin palpating the abdomen. After a minute of rest, she leans back towards Muri and presses her palms against either side of her belly, gently pushing in to feel for any strange masses, fluids, or to check for discomfort. She shushes Muri as she does it—rubbing her belly once she's satisfied with the examination.

Mira, who had been watching her, lifts up the mug and inspects it. "So, your brother loves math?"

"Most of the time," Zoey laughs. "But it seems the love has gone cold lately. He goes to the local university studying Mechanical Engineering."

Muri tilts her head curiously, makes a strange little vocalization.

"That's pretty cool."

Zoey nods. "He seems to like it for the most part, but finals are coming up and there's always gonna be that one professor with a stick up their ass."

Muri huffs, shaking her head in displeasure. Zoey smiles at the action and continues to rub her neck and back.

"I feel for him," Mira snickers.

"Same."

"Are you two close?" Mira asks softly, and she isn't looking Zoey's way when she does—peering softly into her mug of tea.

"I'd like to think so," Zoey picks up Muri's chart, idly playing with the corners of the pages. "I'm about ten years older than him. I wasn't really around when he was growing up as a kid, had to stay with my dad for a little while. But he's very sweet."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," Zoey nods. "I guess it's a good sign when your nineteen year old sibling invites you to things! He wants us to go check out this crepe place on campus next week—I'll probably take him up on the offer. Even if it's just as likely that he wants me to drive him to class and buy him breakfast," Zoey laughs—Mira smiles at that.

"I have a brother too," Mira offers. Her smile turns wry. "He's about two years older than me. I don't know if we're close, and I wouldn't call him sweet."

Zoey tries to find something comforting to say, but instead just blurts out: "Do you want me to fight him?"

It catches Mira off-guard—then it makes her laugh. Her eyes crinkle and her beautiful pink hair falls forward as her shoulders shake in a fit of laughter. "You know what—yeah—why not?"

And it's wonderful. Zoey wants to chase down the feeling of making her smile like that. "I bet I'd win," she continues, giddy when she sees Mira's smile widen a fraction. Her hands fall to her lap and she just sits there, smiling, watching Mira laugh. "I'm very small but you'd be surprised!"

"I don't doubt it," Mira's looking at her all shy and tenderly.

Then Muri barks—huffy and impatient with her tail thumping along the floor again. It's followed by a drawn-out whine when Zoey turns towards her then giggles. "Oh, were you mad I stopped petting you?"

Mira raises an eyebrow. "She got clingy."

"Alright, alright you big baby," Zoey ruffles up the fur along Muri's neck. "Let's finish your check-up. I have to go take a look under your tail."

That makes Muri whimper, undignified and sudden, her tail dropping between her legs as she darts away for the first time that afternoon.

"Muri," Zoey warns, though she can't help the way her mouth curls into a grin. "Get back here!"

It turns out the mouth examination is the worst part of it all.

Mira kind of just stands there, feeling totally useless while Dr. Choi all but wrestles a giant dog into submission until she manages to clamp Muri's jaws shut with her tiny little hands. The panicked look on Muri's face while Dr. Choi sticks a finger or two into her mouth seals the deal—it's such a visceral picture of distress. Mira has nothing but sympathy in her heart.

"Do you, uh, need a hand?"

"Nope!" Dr. Choi dismisses her, completely distracted by the dog she's trying to wrangle. "There's no way I'm putting a pretty girl at risk by having her put her hands in a giant dog's mouth—I'm not up for that kind of liability, thank you!"

Mira feels her cheeks redden. Does she even know what she just said? She schools her face into something safe and neutral, biting the inside of her cheek as she crosses her arm and mumbles to herself: "Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"What?" Dr. Choi pauses.

"Nothing," Mira mutters.

Did Muri just roll her eyes?

Mira doesn't get the chance to think too hard about it though—Dr. Choi capitalizes on this moment of vulnerability and finally gets a better grip on Muri's muzzle. She immediately resumes her pitiful yowling.

"Muri this is for your own good, I'm begging you." Dr. Choi huffs, trying her hardest to pull back Muri's upper lip to try to get a good look at her teeth. Good lord—Mira feels for the poor dog. Dr. Choi's really getting in there—pulling her lip back until the pink of her gums are visible, and she inspects that too, looking for any sign of redness or inflammation. Muri is whining the whole time, ears flat and posture deflated, her tail curled up in what can only be described as shame.

"Aha." Dr. Choi pulls Muri's upper lip even further back. "There we go."

"Found something?"

"Chipped tooth. Could you shine a light on it with your phone? Riiight there. Thanks! It's her upper right canine. Doesn't look that bad—but it's probably really uncomfortable for her."

She continues her uncompromising inspection of Muri's mouth until she's satisfied. When she finally frees Muri, the poor thing walks towards the couch and bumps her forehead against one of the armrests before curling up, like she wants to hide.

Dr. Choi gives her an apologetic pat on the back, then smiles wryly at Mira. "Think she's mad at me?"

"I think she's mad at you, yeah."

That's when they hear the front door jiggle open, and the most fuck-ass looking man Mira had ever seen in her life walks in.

It's unreasonable but Mira hates him already.

Like—first of all, he just walks into the place in his work boots and then drops his bag in the middle of the living room? And he has the gall to wear this smug little smile on his face, like he wasn't a whole forty-five minutes late to an appointment he had agreed to be present for—leaving poor Rumi distressed at the last minute? And just—the way he stares down at Muri, cradled between herself and Dr. Choi, still a little anxious from her mouth examination—like there's something between the two of them they don't know about.

Muri snarls—and for a second, Mira thinks she's about to growl at him.

Dr. Choi just gives him one of her ever-charming smiles, though. It makes Mira dislike him even more.

"Hi!" She says, sweet and summery because that's just how she is. "Kwae Jinu?"

"Sorry I'm late," he grins apologetically, bowing. "It looks to me like Muri's enjoying herself."

Mira had never seen a dog look so distressed before—which is something considering what she and Dr. Choi just went through today. She looks like she'd been caught with her hand (paw?) in the cookie jar, eyes wide and expressive as she stares at Jinu who grins at the dog and gives her a thumbs-up.

She actually does growl this time, and it's followed by a full-throated bark.

Zoey's quick to soothe her. "I think our new arrival is stressing her out."

"Not that that's new," he mutters under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing." He smiles. It is—objectively—a very charming smile. It falls flat for Mira. She hates it she hates it she hates it.

"Well you missed all the fun, Jinu-nim. We're just about done here," Dr. Choi's still running her fingers through Muri's fur, trying to calm her down. Then she brings her hands up to Muri's face and squeezes her cheeks. "I'll have you know she did so, so well for her examination!"

Muri's ear twitches as she stares back at Jinu, who only quirks his brow upwards at her.

"Oh, I'm sure she did."

That makes Mira roll her eyes. "You'd know if you were here."

Jinu stares back at her, his posture registering the animosity in her tone. His shoulders square up in challenge. "Are you the poor soul Rumi roped into dog-sitting?"

Mira straightens up the tiniest bit. "Are you the idiot who couldn't make it on time?"

For a second he looks surprised by how easily she's willing to bite back. Then he smiles at her—slow, infuriating. "Well, I'm here now." He gestures towards the doorway with a flair. "You're free to go if you like."

"No, I don't think I will." Mira leans forward as she crosses her arms. She turns to Dr. Choi. "Can he leave? We were doing just fine."

"I don't know," Dr. Choi looks between them warily. "If Jinu-nim's also Muri's guardian, then—"

Muri actually pulls herself up on all fours and growls. Jinu backs up a little.

"Yep, nope." Jinu throws his palms up. "That is definitely not my dog—and also this is definitely not my apartment, and for the most part this is usually not my problem—"

"Dang." Dr. Choi whistles. "Rough divorce?"

Muri starts wailing in a corner like she's dying.

"Oh, that's funny." Jinu wheezes. "But, no. We aren't divorced."

Mira wants to join Muri and start crying a little inside too. "So you're still—?"

"Not that we were ever married!"

Oh. Okay.

"Or were we?"

Muri straight up starts howling at Jinu with a snarl.

"Okay! Okay! I'm kidding! Not married, never was, and if life continues to be kind to me we never will be!"

Dr. Choi eyes them both with interest.

"So this isn't a weird ex-husband versus current situationship thing after all?"

That makes Mira sputter and burn bright red.

"Situationship?"

Then she almost facepalms. The bedroom—the clothes. Dr. Choi expertly manages to skirt the edges of professionalism and not bring it up—but she's thinking it.

"I'm just her neighbor," Mira clarifies with her arms crossed, trying to pass herself off as calm and collected. So cool. So chill. "We met again at the grocery store and she needed a favor because this moron bailed at the last minute."

"Her not-husband," Dr. Choi clarifies.

"That's me," he grins. "The not-husband."

Then she looks over at Mira. "Not situationship."

"No." Mira looks up at the ceiling.

"Okay, okay." Dr. Choi nods to herself. She tilts her head. "Would have been cute though."

Mira blinked. "What?"

"What?"

"You said—"

"Nothing." Dr. Choi cuts her off and quickly picks up her clipboard. "Can you both sit over at the couch for me? I'm ready to wrap up for the day."

"Um." Mira clears her throat. "What did you mean—?"

"Couch!"

"But—"

"Sit!"

Mira begrudgingly sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Jinu on Rumi's couch, mostly because Muri had deigned to take over the rest of the space, draped over the cushions and armrest. They're all listening in silence as Dr. Choi gives them a run-down on what Muri needs moving forward.

"Other than the tooth she's fine, though her coat needs maintenance," Dr. Choi's chewing at the end of her pen while she leafs through the pages of Muri's chart. She points the pen at both of them. "Go bring her to the groomer's."

"I gotcha." Jinu gives Dr. Choi a thumbs-up. At the same time, Mira nods and says: "Alright."

Then turn to glare at each other.

Jinu opens his mouth, something smart already at the tip of his tongue, and Mira's quick to lean forward in anticipation—but Dr. Choi holds up a finger before they can get started again.

“I’m not done talking?”

They’ve been bickering the whole time. She’s probably over it by now.

They deflate back into the cushions.

"Thank you. Okay, I'm going to prescribe her some pain meds that Rumi-nim can pick up at the clinic. She'll still need some bloodwork done."

"You won't be getting any samples today?" Mira asks.

"No," Dr. Choi shakes her head. "Abby's way better at that than I am so I'd rather have it done in the clinic."

"I see," Jinu nods.

"We're going to need to move back her spaying date, though."

Muri visibly perks up and Jinu makes this god-awful sound like a startled tea kettle. He turns a little red in the face, mouth puckered up, head whipping towards Muri with a questioning look in his eyes.

"Spaying?" He wheezes out.

"Yep. Looks like she’ll be holding on to her inner jewels a little longer." Dr. Choi nods. "Rumi-nim and I scheduled it sometime soon, but like I said I think the dental will have to go first. I may have to put her under."

Muri flattens onto the couch, a paw coming up to cover her face as she whines. Jinu has a strange coughing fit, thumping at his chest and covering his face.

"I think that's all I've got for you today." Dr. Choi puts the chart down and slaps her knees. "Will one of you please relay this all to Rumi-nim and tell her to come by on Monday? I'll send her an email too, of course."

To her surprise, Mira feels Jinu elbow in the arm. He's giving her another one of those annoying smiles.

"I'll leave that to you then, miss Rumi's neighbor, yeah?"

"Yeah."

It's been a long day—and it's only Monday.

The department has Rumi sitting through another defense in the morning and a faculty meeting in the afternoon. It's just one thing after another—a relentless wave of work as the semester wraps up, made worse by the fact that she had a restless weekend. Everything just goes in one ear and floats out the other—and there's a dull, insistent throb pounding at the back of Rumi's head.

The past few days have been rough, but at least it's mostly over now. Dr. Choi's house visit has been a thorn in her side that she's happy to have pulled, no matter how uncomfortable the whole thing was. All things considered, it went miraculously well—a dental procedure seems like a smaller, more manageable horror to endure than the alternative.

She'll think about that later—after this Friday's full moon.

Rumi locks up her office door, then walks out the building towards the parking garage. She checks her watch—it's only 2:45PM. She'll have enough time to pass by the clinic for her meds, though she’d be cutting in close.

Rumi hasn't stopped thinking about Dr. Choi all weekend.

Just… the way she held her. Her kindness, her sincerity. The sound of her voice as she tenderly soothed her, the curl of her smile—bright, blinding.

Rumi grips the strap of her bag as she walks, thinking about the small thank-you card she has tucked inside of it somewhere.

She knows she'll probably get a mouthful when she walks into that clinic, but she doesn't really care. It's so easy to tell that it's coming from a place of concern—of genuinely wanting Muri to be okay. And Rumi will never hold that against her.

(Because it's been a while since the last time someone else did.)

Mira seemed to like the flowers. Rumi chews on her lip as she thinks—would Dr. Choi like some too? Would that be workplace appropriate?

Rumi brings her cupcakes instead.

She shows up with a tray of tiny red velvet ones, topped off with cream cheese frosting. It's a slow afternoon—Abby waves her down the hall—and when she walks inside, Dr. Choi has an entire coffee pot on her desk that she seems to be drinking straight out of, and there's thick stack of paperwork somewhere on her desk.

She's holding a pair of scissors, cutting up labels printed out on sticker paper, and when the metal glides through the page with a snip, Rumi feels a small shiver of fear down her spine. God. What a day.

"Hey." Rumi greets, hesitantly standing by the doorway.

Dr. Choi, who didn't even notice her at first, blinks up at her like an owl. Her scrubs are wrinkled, and her white coat is hanging uselessly off the back of her chair. "Rumi-nim?"

"Long day?"

"Extremely," Her shoulders sag. "In fact, I'm too tired to yell at you."

Rumi winces, but she'll take the win. She holds up the box in her hand. "Do you like cupcakes? I brought you and Abby some."

Dr. Choi eyes the box, then gives Rumi a small, lazy smile. "You are surprisingly good at getting yourself out of trouble."

Rumi grins sheepishly. "I try my best."

"Thank you," Dr. Choi gratefully accepts the box. Her eyes linger on the little envelope lying on top of it—then they flit to her office clock. "You can pick-up her meds, but I'm afraid we're about to close up for the day."

"I'll just grab them and get going," Rumi nods.

"Hold on—Rumi-nim?" She says, suddenly serious. "We have a lot of important things to talk about. I really need you to make the time for it—for Muri."

"I know," Rumi plays with the hem of her coat, just standing there.

"I mean it." Dr. Choi holds her gaze—demanding her attention, demanding that she listens. "She's beautiful, Rumi." Her voice goes soft at that. "She's so smart and so charming—and she's sweet. Just—take care of her for me, yeah?"

Rumi feels her throat close up. It all catches her off-guard. "Yeah," she says, shaky.

Dr. Choi gets up from her desk to pick something up from a nearby cabinet, then walks back Rumi's way.

"You can start off by making sure she takes these on time."

She holds up an orange pill bottle with 'Ryu Muri' printed out on the label.

"They're for pain relief," she explains. "Dosage instructions will come with the prescription."

Rumi reaches out for the bottle, but Dr. Choi pulls it out of her reach.

"Hold on!" She nags, poking at Rumi's sternum. "She has to take it once a day with food. You can cover it up in peanut butter and feed it to her, or mix it in with her wet food."

"Okay," Rumi tries to grab it again, but she isn't done.

"And I need you to make sure that you give it to her at the same time, every day—if you start in the morning, then keep it during the morning."

Rumi knows that Dr. Choi means well—but come on. She can read instructions, though she can only imagine how many stubborn clients she's had to deal with. She tries not to take it personally.

"And remember!" Dr. Choi keeps going. "You can't give it to her on an empty stomach. She has to have it—"

Alright. That's it.

Rumi steps forward into her space, reaching out to gently pry the bottle out of her hand. Their fingers brush a little with the action.

"—with food." Dr. Choi squeaks, looking up at Rumi with red cheeks and a bit of surprise.

"Dr. Choi," Rumi holds up the bottle.

They're still standing so close to each other.

"Once a day, with food, at a consistent time. I'll get it done."

Rumi gives the bottle a little shake, smiling at her.

"I can be good too. I promise."

When Rumi finally leaves, Zoey has to brace herself against the edge of her desk with her palms, leaning backwards. She takes a deep, shaky breath—her brows furrow together. She swallows thickly.

What the fuck.

And then, again, out loud:

"What the fuck?"

chapter end

A/N:

omg we made it to chapter 4!! it was truly an uphill battle to get here - it's was such a longboi to write & then ao3 went down LMFAO! but thank you all so much for reading it - and massive thank yous to every single comment in the past three chapters so far! i appreciate each of them so much <3 and also to all the art & memes & doodles & head canons & support - yall are awesome awooooo!

just wanted to share this tiny bit of supplemenetary info: Rumi's calendar for the week! we finally made it to Saturday, as no more spoilers to share the whole thing. can't wait to show her following week with the Full Moon (TM)

and of course couldn't have made this chapter or story without the creative brain of @chrysa3tos who has been bringing this whole story to life with their art and visions & designs - they've drawn out the entire world + visuals of muri in a way my brain couldn't have managed on it's own and it's amazing! and to @frogsnfungi1698, for their professional input this chapter!! ty for helping me make vet!zoey believable #herPalpations <3 & to @nosiidam for ur love & support ily

i hope yall enjoy the coming chapters as well, with zoey visiting yeon-so on campus, and rumi's continuous preparation for a winter full moon 👀 | don't lie - black eye peas & cuff up your jeans - claud

#kpdh #kpdh fic #wolfish behavior #polytrix #ehehehe #the struggle today was unreal #but it's okay #we love you ao3 forever and ever take your time

kayr0ss