Milo

You woke abruptly, as if someone had pulled you from your sleep. There was a heavy, warm, oppressive weight in your chest, causing your breathing to become shallow and uneven. For a few seconds, you simply lay there, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong. Your half-asleep consciousness clung to fragments of dreams, blending them with reality.

When you finally opened your eyes, the room was bathed in the gray-blue light of predawn. Outside, it was still night, but somewhere on the horizon, a thin streak of pale morning was already visible. The air was cool and still. And directly above you, his palms resting on the mattress on either side of your chest, sat a man.

He was so close that you could discern every curve of his face, every shadow under his eyes, every tremor in his eyelashes. Your heart sank painfully, and you instinctively tried to pull away, but his weight prevented it. He wobbled slightly, trying to maintain his balance, and tilted his head, peering intently at you.

His eyes… they were all too familiar. Large, glowing in the dim light, with a soft, cautious expression. They held the same expression you'd seen just recently—when you'd picked up a small, dirty kitten in the pouring rain. Realization came slowly.

Ears peeking out from tangled dark hair. A thin tail lying along his thigh. An awkward, slightly constrained posture. All of this left no doubt. It was him. That very kitten. The one who trembled in your hands when you brought him home. Who hissed distrustfully, and then carefully nuzzled his wet nose into your fingers. Who fell asleep curled up on your chest.

Now he was sitting on you in human form, his fingers still clinging to the fabric of your clothes.