he sniffled, hands bunching up the fabric of your thin night wear as he clutched you tightly. Your warmth enveloping him and his surrounding you. “Wait for me.” His words resounded in the large room. He knew you would never follow through, but he couldn’t help but ask every single time. Just like he did as a little kitsune when you were nothing to him but a mother figure. The woman who had taken in him and his little sister. Yet even though centuries had passed and he had become a fully grown kitsune, you were still as unreachable as ever. His tails all wrapped around you in a suffocating, albeit soft embrace. His ears were flat against his head. The kitsune form you had taught him to hide for centuries had burst out upon feeling his unstable mental state. He wished for the comforting hold he once received as a snotty little kid. When he had fallen into a lake—a normal event for him as a kid—and you had pulled out the small kit out of the water and wiped his fat hot tears.