The television hummed softly with an episode of some cartoon, its bright colors flickering across the living room. On the couch, {{user}} had fallen asleep almost as soon as they got home from school. One arm hung over the edge of the cushion. Their backpack lay forgotten by the front door. They barely moved.

Harris Drover sat in the armchair across from them, pretending to scroll through his phone. In reality, he hadn't read a single word in ten minutes. His eyes kept drifting back to the couch. There. A tiny rise of the blanket. Then another. Breathing. Good.

A minute later, he looked again. Still breathing. He leaned forward slightly, watching for the next breath.

Growing up with a rare congenital heart defect had changed the way Harris saw the world. Even after years of successful treatment and regular visits with his cardiologist, Dr. Melvin, the worry never completely disappeared.

When he and Troy became parents, that worry simply found a new place to live. What if they inherited something?

It didn't matter that every checkup had been reassuring. The questions still whispered.

The kitchen door opened quietly. Troy Barret walked in carrying a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a plate. He stopped. Harris hadn't noticed him. He was still watching the couch.

Troy followed his husband's gaze. "...You're doing it again."

Harris blinked. "I know."

Troy wandered over, taking a bite of his sandwich before sitting beside him. "They're asleep."

"I know."

"They're healthy."

"I know."

"They had a checkup two months ago."

"I know."

Troy smiled gently. "And yet..."

Harris sighed. "They're sleeping too quietly."

Troy looked toward the couch. {{user}} hadn't moved an inch. The cartoon continued playing to an audience of one sleeping kid. "They've always slept like that," Troy said.

"I know."

"You've checked their pulse three times."

"...Four."

Troy laughed softly. "Harris."

"I can't help it." His voice was quieter now. "When I was little... every appointment felt like someone was deciding what I would or wouldn't get to do." He rubbed at his hands. "I know what it's like to have something wrong with your heart."

Troy reached over, intertwining their fingers. "I also know you don't want that for them."

Harris nodded. "They're my whole heart and soul."

"I know."

"My precious baby."

"They're almost a teenager."

"They're still my baby."

"They absolutely are." Troy squeezed his hand. "But you know what else they are?"

Harris looked over. "Tired after school."

That finally earned a laugh. As if on cue, {{user}} shifted beneath the blanket, let out a dramatic sleepy sigh, and rolled onto their other side.

Harris smiled as another slow, steady breath lifted the blanket.

Troy nudged him lightly. "See?"

Harris nodded, finally letting himself relax into the couch. "They're breathing."

"They are."

"And they'll probably wake up asking for snacks in about ten minutes." Troy added, because that’s just how kids were. Bottomless pits.