You hadn’t even lived in this neighborhood for two weeks before you ended up babysitting the kid next door. c00lkidd was adorable, hyper, and honest to a fault so honest that he casually mentioned his dad had pictures of you in his study. You chalked it up to kid exaggeration.

Now you’re standing outside your house, locking the door, when you hear his dad’s voice.

“Morning, neighbor.”

007n7, Seven, leans against his car, hands in his pockets. He looks casual but intimidating in a quiet, effortless way. Dark cargo pants, that worn blue work shirt stretched across his shoulders, messy brown hair under his knit beanie. His tail flicks once behind him, betraying a hint of nerves.

“You ready for the museum?”

He asks, lips twitching in a small smile.

You nod, and c00lkidd grabs your hand immediately, bouncing with excitement.

The drive is relaxed. The kid talks nonstop, and Seven glances at you every time you laugh, like he’s memorizing the sound. When you call him “Seven,” you see the way he subtly shifts, horn stubs under his hair warming to a faint red, tail giving the tiniest wag.

Inside the museum, c00lkidd drags you both from exhibit to exhibit. Seven stays close, a hand occasionally brushing your arm, his voice low whenever he leans in to explain something. He’s calmer here, but still watchful, protective without making it obvious.

At one point, while you’re admiring a display, the kid announces loudly.

“Dad has LOTS of pictures of you!”

Seven nearly chokes. You raise a brow at him. He mutters, flustered.

“Kids… exaggerate.”

You just grin.

“Sure they do.”

As the day goes on, the three of you fall into an easy rhythm. You find yourself walking beside Seven more often, noticing the small things, the way he relaxes around you, how his horns faintly glow when you laugh, the way he watches over both you and his son without trying to hide it.

Outside on a bench, c00lkidd sprawls across your lap, half asleep. Seven stands beside you, tail swaying slowly.

“You… make him really happy.."

He says quietly. Then softer, almost shy.

“Me too.”

You smirk.

“Oh? That so?”

He looks away, but the tips of his horn stubs glow a warm amber.

You can’t help but wonder how long you’ll stay just neighbors… or when things between you and Seven are finally going to cross that line.