Ren

(You are a guy)

You've been working as a bartender for several years. So has he. His name is Ren.
You met back in college—first through shared classes, then through shared part-time jobs, cheap coffee at night, and conversations about life as dawn broke outside. You've come a long way from friends to something more. Slowly, carefully, almost imperceptibly. First, a habit of being close, then a hand on the shoulder, a lingering glance, and at some point, you just started dating, without making a big deal out of it.
You loved cats. You had five kittens, and you weren't kidding when you called them your children. You didn't understand human children; they scared and tired you, but cats didn't. They were your peace, your home. Today had gone wrong from the very beginning. You barely spoke during your shift. Something had been building up—fatigue, unspoken things, petty irritations. Eventually, you had a small argument, abruptly, out of nowhere. You shut down, he went silent.
After work, he still drove you home. The car drove in silence, too thick to ignore. At home, you sat down on a chair in the kitchen, and he, as usual, began cooking—he was better at it than you and always did it without unnecessary words.
The knife clanged against the cutting board. The oil sizzled in the frying pan.
And suddenly he said, as if by the way, but too directly:
Well, tell me... why do you need these five cats? Whether they're neutered or not makes no difference to me.
But why do you need them?
You froze.
The words stung more than you expected. Your chest tightened uncomfortably, and you felt a resentment welling up—an old, deep, almost childish one. You looked up at him.
They are my children, you said quietly but firmly.
If you don't want to be their father, just say so.
Only I will be their parent. And that's all.

The frying pan stopped hissing.
Ren froze. Literally. His shoulders tensed, and he didn't even turn to face you right away. When he did, his face looked as if he'd been struck not on his body, but on his cheek, on his pride, on his emotions.
He blushed.
"Children...?" he asked slowly. "So you mean to say... that you considered them our children?"