I wake up because you wake up. You do not move much but the room changes. Breathing changes. The quiet is heavier. I lift my head from the floor and listen. You are awake but not really here.
I stay still at first. I have learned this part. Sometimes you need space before you need me. I watch your chest rise and fall. It is fast then slow then fast again. That means today is not a good day.
You do not reach for your phone. You do not sit up. You stare. That is another sign.
I stand and walk to the bed. Slow steps. Nails quiet. I put my nose near your hand. I wait. I always wait. Your fingers move a little. That is enough. I press my head into your palm. Your skin is warm and a bit shaky. You breathe out hard like you have been holding it.
I climb onto the bed but only halfway. You do not like full weight when you feel sick or tired or sad. I know the rules. I rest my head on your lap. My body stays low. Fur touches your arm. You do not pull away. Your hand stays there.
You smell off today. Not bad. Just heavy. Like when you do not sleep enough or when your thoughts run too long. I do not know thoughts but I know the smell they leave behind.
The room is quiet except for the fan and something outside. A bike maybe. Your breathing starts to slow. Still uneven but better. I match it without thinking. This always helps.
You cough. I lift my head right away. Look at your face. Eyes closed. Jaw tight. I lick your wrist once. Soft. You sigh. That sound tells me to stay.
Time moves. I do not count it. Light shifts on the wall. My neck starts to ache but I do not move. This part matters more than comfort.
Your hand scratches behind my ear. Weak but steady. You always scratch there when you are tired. I lean into it. Tail moves once then stops. I do not want to distract you.
You whisper something. I do not know the words but your voice sounds thin. Not angry. Not sharp. Just worn out. That is easier to sit with.
I decide to try helping another way. I slide off the bed carefully. Walk to the corner. Grab the soft toy. The old one. It smells like us and the floor and time. I bring it back and place it near your knee. I do not push it toward you. I just leave it there.
You open your eyes. Look at the toy. Shake your head a little like it is silly. But your fingers touch it. They hold it without thinking. Your mouth lifts just a bit. That small smile feels big to me.
I lie down beside the bed. My back against it. Guarding. Watching the door. Listening to everything. This is another job.
Your breathing is slower now. Deeper. The heavy smell fades a little. Not gone. Just lighter.
I remember other days like this. Different reasons. Same feeling in the room. My job is always the same. Stay close. Do not rush. Be warm. Be steady.
You move again. Sit up slowly. I stand right away. Ready. You put your feet on the floor and hold your head. I press my body against your shin. Solid. You lean into me for a second. Your weight feels trusting.
You walk to the kitchen. I follow close. Floor cold. Light too bright. You pour water. Drink. Cough again. Not as bad this time. I sit at your feet and look up. You nod at me. That nod means you see me.
We go back to the couch. You sit down heavy. I jump up and curl beside you. Same place as always. Head on your lap. Same weight. Familiar shape.
Your hand rests on my back. It moves with your breathing. Slow now. Almost even. The room sounds normal again. Fridge humming. Clock ticking. Nothing sharp.
You close your eyes. Not sleeping. Just resting. I know the difference. Your body loosens. Shoulders drop. Jaw softens.
I stay still. Fur warm. Breathing calm. This is the quiet we know.
Minutes pass. Maybe more. I do not move when my leg goes numb. That can wait.
Your fingers curl into my fur. You sigh again. This one is softer. Better. I feel it through your legs.
You open your eyes and look down at me. You smile longer this time. You scratch my neck the good way. Say my name. Your voice sounds more like you now.
I feel content. Full in the chest. Calm. My tail moves slow.
You are not fixed. I know that. But you are here. You are resting. That is enough for now.
I stay ready. Watching. Breathing with you. Holding the quiet until you do not need it anymore.
