littorella:

For you, anything darling

My papa is kind.

He plays even when he is tired. He smiles even when he is sad. He is forever rubbing the spot behind my ear that I like. I like.

Papa whispers about his Miliy when we are alone (sometimes papa calls him Yuuri too). Miliy smells like the ocean and the kitchen and gives secret smiles when I follow him around.

They speak to each other in a language I can’t understand, but I watch and I guess. I’m very good at guessing. Papa’s ears twitch when he’s excited, and Milly scratches the back of his dark hair when flustered. They mumble words for hours just to be together.

When they part to go to sleep, he sometimes has a longing look as I follow papa to our room. So I turn back, and I guess. I whine to papa and paw at his leg.

Papa asks, “What is it, Makka?”

I let him know with looks back toward the ajar door at the end of the hall. “Ah, so he’s got you too,” he whispers fondly as his eyes follow mine. He kneels down in his doorway and ruffles the fur on my head before he says, “Go to him. It’s ok.”

My papa is always kind.

I go, and Miliy smiles until the morning dawn.

We go to the beach once they both wake. There are gulls shrieking, and I run in circles after gulls, gulls, gulls. Papa whistles for me to stay close. They walk side by side, stealing glances at each other.

And when Miliy turns to look at papa, they exchange a meaningful look as if they want something but are both too worried to ask. My papa stops and reaches down for a stick. He throws it into the air overhead. And there’s sun, and laughter, and a kiss. And I run for the stick, stick, stick.

–

Thanks to @teekettle for the idea!