My Mate is a Crazy Cat Lady {Namjoonxreader}

Chapter 39: The Hard Part

Warning: If you've ever lost an animal, this chapter comes from a very personal place so it might be upsetting. There's nothing graphic, it's just...feelings. The last six months were extremely hard for me because I lost two fur babies, so this chapter reads like a diary entry of my thoughts and feelings.

Skip to chapter 41 if that's something that you find too upsetting. I cried my heart out writing them so you may or may not cry reading them. Sorry.

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There was a few scenarios befitting of a teenage girl's mind that I had envisioned would happen when we woke up the next day.

What I most expected was that we would be wrapped up in each other's arms, snuggled in tight and cozy. Maybe I'd have to wrestle my way out of one of his python-esque hugs while he begged for five more minutes. Maybe we'd wake up feeling playful and I teased him while he tickled me in vengeance. Or maybe I'd be the first to open my eyes and I'd kiss his face until he did too.

None of these happened.

What happened instead, was my being rudely awakened by a punch to the face and then promptly being kicked out of bed.

Apparently Namjoon is also clumsy as hell when he's sleeping.

Who'd have thunk it. Not me. But now I have a busted lip to prove it.

For the next few seconds I lay there stunned. The tip of right elbow from where I landed on it and my lip both throbbed in pain in what I suspected was going to be an all day reminder of how my day started off. Fight me in the pit, Namjoon.

How did I even end up on this side of the bed? Last I remember he had placed himself between me and the door and had been adamant about staying in that position until I fell asleep. 'I'm going to protect you' he said. Yet here I am on the floor. This bitch.

Feeling groggy and angry as hell, I stumble to my feet and round on the still peacefully sleeping Namjoon, procuring ideas in my mind of all the worst ways I can wake him up and exact my revenge.

I'm trying to decide which would be worse—kicking him in the face or dive bombing him from the dresser—when my phone starts ringing and ruins my evil plans.

The sound causes my boyfriend to achieve consciousness and he gives me a sweet smile, to which I respond by flipping him off before accepting the call.

That was a mistake.

I wish I never answered the phone.

I've been in this make believe bubble for the past week and a half. Telling myself that everything was going to be ok. Telling people that I was fine. Telling myself that it was just a passing phase, lying to myself, over and over again that BooBoo was not about to leave me.

He's dying. And I feel like dying too.

The veterinarian. I think she's giving me false hope. In one sentence she'll tell me that his white blood cell count is through the roof—meaning his body is trying to fight off something. That with his other symptoms, it's most likely cancer. But then in the next sentence she'll say that she can't be sure without more testing and that we should try antibiotics first.

Is it false hope, or is she so used to having to guide people into the inevitable? Is this just her way of easing me into his death, rather than straight up telling me that it's his time? Or is there still that slim string of hope I can grab hold of?

I'm confused. The words are there but I can't commit my brain to making sense of them. It's with a clouded mind and no clear conviction that I agree to antibiotics. There's no harm in trying, right? Then again...she definitely said the word cancer. That's a word that is both terrifying and signifies an upcoming change. The word she attached, 'antibiotics' doesn't match up. If words were weights then 'cancer' drags a boat to the bottom of the ocean, while 'antibiotics' simply floats away with the current.