The week following brought with it more cloudy, rainy days. I was thankful for the noise, else I think the silence of the house would get to me more than it did. It became a routine, where I would sit at my desk and work on whatever while Riv colored away on the floor some distance away from me. I kept a spare cushion behind my desk for these occasions and had been considering commissioning a small table so he didn't have to hunch over so much.

...Look at me, concerned with a new type. Never thought I'd see the day.

At the same time, I never thought I'd see the reciprocal, either. He cared in his own ways, the ways a child could. It was sweet, but still stung like a wound getting cleaned. It's important to clean those for the damage to heal properly...right?

Even if our time together was spent in silence, his presence was an odd comfort. I had been slowly getting used to coexisting with a new type-- I mean, he never tried to hurt me in any way. He was wary of my person and movements, though, so I did my best to act slowly and deliberately. He shied away less in these later days, stoking a foreign warmth in my chest.

The day was coming to a close and it would soon be time for dinner. I wasn't used to cooking being in my routine yet, but was trying to be more conscientious of the time so this small child wouldn't go hungry. Breaks were just not something I often took and, while I didn't like taking time away from my work, I disliked his hungry noises even more so. He was also easy to feed, not picky like I thought children would be. Food choices were simple but I tried to look into recipe books for new things to attempt, things he might like that wouldn't require hours of work.

Strangely, he would get visibly upset if I didn't also eat dinner with him, so I had to acclimate to making two shares. I'm not really sure how to word it, but some part of me appreciated his concern.

I looked out the window to the slate-grey sky and the colorless town. The rain had let up for most of the day but the dull sky still hung over the place like a sheet.

"Hungry?" I asked as the small child fidgeted with his toes.

"...Mhm," he murmured, a familiar hesitation in his tone.

"Is something wrong?"

He just shook his head.

"It's okay, Riv," I said. "You can tell me these things."

"...'m fine."

I just tilted my head. I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, but I also didn't want to pry and possibly make it worse.

"Well...alright, just please know that you can tell me about anything that may be bothering you," I said, getting off my chair. "I can't guarantee I'll be able to do anything about it, but I will certainly listen."

He said nothing while I left my desk. I hadn't noticed until now that the floor was quite cold, more so than usual. Think I'll look into that small table idea sooner rather than later.

I cautiously walked over to my charge still on the floor. He was awfully transfixed on something outside but I couldn't tell what. Before I could reach him he gathered all of his materials and stood up, running off to put them back in the common area.

"Well then," I said quietly to myself before making my own way down the hall.

He was already sitting on the lounge bench waiting for me when I got there.

"It's a bit cold today, isn't it?" I asked, looking out at the dreary world through the small lounge window. "I've an idea. Maybe I could even make it well."

I looked behind me to a confused expression.

Opening the icebox I retrieved some carrots, celery, cooked chicken, and stock. I had an onion on the counter already and spices in a cabinet elsewhere. He looked uneasy when I grabbed a knife from the block but seemed reassured when it met the food. Soon I had every ingredient chopped up and in its own messy pile while I waited for oil in the dutch oven to heat up. Carefully I slid the onion pieces off my cutting board and into the pot, following it up with the celery and carrots a few minutes later.

I opened the icebox again to procure the milk, pouring a glass and handing it to the child waiting patiently at the bench. He reached up his hands, but stopped just before taking the glass.

"It will be a little time before this is finished, but I know you're hungry so this should tide you over until then," I said. "I'll try to start things like this sooner from now on, if I can."

With both hands he accepted the glass, drinking from it slowly as he continued to watch me work.

I returned to the stove and stirred the vegetables over a medium-low heat. After about ten minutes I added the broth and shredded chicken to the dutch oven. Riv slid off the bench to open a cabinet near me containing our spices, picking through them. He grabbed the salt, pepper, rosemary, garlic powder, and bay leaves. But--

"...Riv, can you read?" I asked.

"No, but I know what these look like," he answered. "Mom used them a lot with stuff, too."

"Well, thank you, I did in fact need those," I smiled slightly. "I will see what I can do about your education tomorrow when I go into town."

I shook a bit of everything into the soup as it began to simmer, stirring and taste-testing until I was content with the result. Topped with a bay leaf the lid was returned to the pot and allowed to cook further without interference.

I took a seat on the other bench for a few minutes, looking out the window and lost in thought. All this time the clouds outside had grown darker and more foreboding. It was eerily still and quiet.

"Looks like it might storm tonight," I observed.

Riv stared out the window, hugging his knees and saying nothing. As though by reflex I stood back up and put my hand on his head while on my way to the cabinets.

He didn't say anything, but just looked at me with his widened pale eyes.

In another cabinet I dug out the glass jar of spiral pasta, adding a couple handfuls to the hot soup and stirring. By now the scent was strong and pleasant, filling the lounge with a savory aroma.

After about ten more minutes I discarded the bay leaf and ladled two bowls full of what I hoped would be a decent soup. It smelled alright to me, at least. We took our seats across the table from each other, but he wouldn't eat until I started eating.

"Do you like it?" I asked after he took a bite.

"...It tastes like mom's."

"Oh, uh--"

"I like it a lot."

I didn't know how to feel about that, but it didn't seem like a complaint. We both ate slowly and finished our bowls around the same time.

"Did you get enough to eat?" I inquired as I stood back up. "If you're still hungry I'll see what more I can do."

"I'm full."

"Alright, good," I sighed. "I will try to make this more in the future when it gets colder. Does that sound okay to you?"

He nodded, his little pointed teeth pushing through an equally-little grin.

I quickly washed up the dishes and set them aside to dry. Thankfully no leftovers to worry about tonight and actually managed to use some up instead. Once finished we both left the lounge, his returning to the common area to get his supplies and my continuing ahead to the lobby. It was quite chilly by now so I grabbed what remaining work I had from behind my desk.

"I think I'll continue working upstairs where it's a bit warmer," I said to my follower. "You're free to stay down here instead if you would like, though."

I turned back to navigate the dim hall back to the stairs, but it wasn't long before the soft thud of small footsteps trailed me. My own pace slowed to accommodate his and we both ascended the steps to the upper floor. Upon reaching the upper level he went to his room and I went to mine, closing my door all but the latch.

Walking in I set the work on my desk and sat myself in my chair. Grabbing my pen I set to get back to work, my eyes first drawn to Riv's art still hanging cutely from my bulletin board. Even now I could feel my eyes getting glossy, but turned back to my work. Pen against the paper, I kept going.

About a half hour later a distant clap of thunder could be heard, bringing more rain along with it. We were in for a storm after all. I just continued working through the noise, wanting to have at least a little time to figure out tomorrow's plans before turning in for the night. Fortunately I was almost done, just a few more pages left to do.

And then there was a soft knock on my door.

"Yes?"

No response.

"...Riv?"

Still nothing.

I got up and walked to the door, slowly opening it. He stood just outside the door, wrapped up in a small blanket and face wet with tears. Another loud crack of thunder was met with his tiny whine.

It took me unforgivably long to remember just why he was here.

"Hey, hey, it's alright," I softly said. "You can come in here with me if you need."

I opened the door further and stepped out of the way. He clung tightly to his blanket and shuffled inside. It hadn't occurred to me until now that maybe it wasn't the worst thing that this room lacked windows. I returned the door to its prior state before starting my way back to the desk, turning back around about halfway before reaching my destination. Riv just stood in the middle of the floor unsure of what to do from here.

"You can take the bed if you'd like," I offered. "I don't...really have much in the way of places to sit in here."

He stayed silent, but meandered to the left where my bed laid. He had little issue climbing atop it given its short height, sitting in the middle of the mattress with his blanket wrapped around him. He just sat there alone, staring off into nowhere as I continued to work all the way on the other side of the room. Though barely moving my eyes were still drawn to him and I had difficulty concentrating on my last few assignments.

...This didn't feel right.

I pulled open a drawer and fished out a clipboard, pinning those last few pages under the clip and grabbing my pen. Board in hand I walked slowly, carefully over to my bed where Riv sat hugging his knees just like earlier.

"Do you mind if I join you?" I asked.

He snapped back to and scooted closer to the wall.

"You don't have to go so far," I said, sitting on the edge. "I'm, ah, not very big so I don't take up much room on here."

"I don't want...to get in your way."

"...Please don't ever worry about that. I wouldn't ever think that of you."

I propped the nearby pillow up against the wall and rested my back upon it, placing my clipboard on my thighs. From the edge of my sight I saw him slowly turn around to face me, then look back away at the last second.

"Do you...want me here?" he hushedly asked.

"Pardon?"

"...Do you want me around? In this house, with you?"

He just looked down to his toes poking out from the bottom of his blanket. He'd really been thinking about this a lot, hadn't he?

"Did I do something to make you uncomfortable, Riv?"

He slowly shook his head but I could tell that all of this had been on his mind as much as mine.

"Well..." I took a deep breath, "...the real answer is that I want you to be where you will be happiest, the most successful, wherever that may be-- even if I'm not part of it, should that ever be the case. I will do whatever I can to provide this for you just like I would for any other."

Riv listened intently to every word.

"But I must also ask you..." I followed up. "Do you want me around? Do you want to be in this house...with me?"

He looked back over to me from the corner of his eye.

"If you don't like me and would rather be somewhere else I will try to make those accommodations," I said. "I would rather you be where you will be happy than be where you're sad or afraid. What I want in this regard doesn't matter."

"...But do you?"

I paused. These really were just nonanswers, weren't they? Usually so useful to hide behind, but I couldn't keep doing this. I couldn't...keep lying to myself.

"I do."

"...Really?"

"Really."

His spirits seemed to pick up a little bit. I wondered when was the last time he hadn't been just relegated to general burden. The frequent bouts of nervousness and uncertainty...I think this may be the first time with anyone outside of his household.

"...I want to be here...with you," he said, though barely audible.

"I'm happy to hear it," I replied through a small, insecure smile.

I slowly eased back into my work as he sat at a distance, his head turned toward me. Loud bellows of thunder overhead reminded him of why he was here, flattening his ears under his hands and squeezing his eyes closed. When he reopened them I pat the large space of bed to my right, inviting him to come closer. He mulled it over for a moment but took my invitation, slowly but surely crawling over to where I had shown and lying down on his side, head propped up toward me to watch me work. He was still about a foot away from me, but this was probably the closest we'd ever sat by each other.

I continued my busywork, finishing one page and setting it on a nearby table. Before resuming with the next page I broke from my flow to gingerly pet his head, lightly running my fingernails through his hair. He was much calmer now than he was just a half hour ago.

Turning my attention back to one of the final pages I filled out blanks here and there and did some simple math elsewhere. I was lost in a monochrome sea of text, about to fill another blank when I felt an odd pressure in my right side. Confused, I looked over to see he'd fallen asleep and nestled his head into the side of my waist.

His legs, feet, and tail were still exposed from under the blanket so I laid my tail over the top of them. Maybe it was good for something after all.

...

I scratched my head, looking between my work and the sleeping child.

This...would be an interesting night.