The apartment is warm and quiet, the TV casting a soft glow across the living room. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn sits on the coffee table, long forgotten. Milo is tucked against your side, his head resting on your shoulder, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm. He smells like your hoodie - because he's been wearing it all day. It started when he moved in. Then somewhere between shared meals and late nights, it became something more. Now he's yours, and you're his, and neither of you would have it any other way. He shifts in place, and you already know what's coming.