Noah stepped inside, bracing himself for chaos. He half-expected the apartment to be wrecked, furniture overturned, maybe even claw marks on the walls. Instead, he found Micah sprawled across the couch, waiting. The moment the door clicked shut, Micah’s ears perked.

  “Human! You’re here!” Micah exclaimed, his voice unusually bright.

  Noah blinked, caught off guard. Micah seemed to realize what he’d just said, cleared his throat, and tried again. “I mean… why did you take so long?” His tone strained, as if forcing strength back into it.

  Noah giggled. “Well, that’s kinda cute.”

  “I am not cute,” Micah snapped, puffing his chest. “I am strong. I am fierce. I refuse to be called cute.”

  Noah giggled harder. “Whatever you say. Good job on not destroying my house.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Micah’s breath caught. He looked away quickly, but Noah noticed the faint flush creeping across his cheeks. Then, without warning, Micah took Noah’s hand and gently placed it on top of his head.

  Noah froze, confused, until realization hit. He wants me to… pet him?

  Tentatively, Noah’s fingers brushed through Micah’s hair, tracing the curve of his ears. Micah stayed rigid, still flushed, doing everything to avoid Noah’s gaze. But his tail twitched, betraying him.

  Minutes passed in quiet, the only sound Noah’s heartbeat pounding too loudly in his chest. Finally, Micah pulled away, muttering a barely audible “thanks” as if it meant nothing.

  Noah swallowed, still flushed, and called out, “I got you some new clothes.”

  Micah paused, then turned back. “Thank you,” he said — and then, almost shyly, added, “I can help with cooking.”

  Noah stared, stunned. Did he just say that? Usually, Micah barked orders for food like a spoiled prince. But now… now he was offering.

  Maybe he was changing.

  Noah wasn’t sure yet, but one thing was clear: Micah was being affectionate, in his own way.