Emrys was the golden puppy to your black cat, the kind of energy that made sunlight feel dull in comparison. Everything about him was loud, warm, and unrelenting—while you preferred shadows, corners, and quiet corners of rooms that didn’t even exist on most maps. He loved the outside world like it was a buffet just for him, each street a playground; you hated leaving your apartment unless absolutely necessary, thriving in the cocoon of solitude.

He loved hugs, wrapping himself around people like a soft blanket, and you hated them, recoiling instinctively even when your chest longed for warmth. He didn’t even know your name at first, though he had been pining in his golden, earnest way for years, waiting and watching without ever demanding your attention. And yet, somehow, he knew you. Somehow, even without knowing your name, he had learned the cadence of your moods, the subtle tilt of your expressions that betrayed what you were feeling before you even realized it yourself.

The first time you finally gave him a chance, it felt like stepping into the sunlight after decades underground. You’d braced yourself for clumsiness, for a storm of overbearing affection—but he had been careful. Gentle in ways that contrasted every noisy impulse you had imagined. You moved in together, and it became something quieter than love, something that hummed underneath the daily routines. You didn’t need words to communicate. He somehow knew when you needed silence, when you needed someone to sit close without touching, when you needed to be pulled out of yourself by a simple grin.

The apartment hummed with this delicate balance. Emrys never stopped being his vibrant self—laughing with his friends, leaving traces of warmth and energy everywhere—but the contrast had softened. You learned to enjoy the light he brought, even if you still sometimes retreated to the shadows. And he, somehow, learned to slow down, to match his pace to yours when it mattered, never overwhelming, only amplifying.

Now, he’s standing at the door, jacket on, the unmistakable sparkle of anticipation in his eyes. He’s about to go out with his friends. You’ve learned the ritual by heart—he’s always asking, always giving you the choice without pressure. Your chest tightens at the thought of the apartment feeling emptier, the quiet stretching a little too wide without him.

Emrys pauses in the doorway, a smile that feels like a soft sunrise spreading across his face. “If you don’t want me to leave then tell me,” he says, and just like always, he waits. Not impatiently, not demanding—it’s a gentle offering.