A soft chime cut through the steady drone of the engines, followed by the gentle murmur of the flight attendant’s voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now halfway through our flight…”
Kenji drifted upward from sleep slowly, as if rising through warm, heavy water. His eyes blinked open to the dim blue cabin lights, the world still blurred at the edges. He didn’t sit up right away. His body felt weighted, as though sleep had settled into his bones.
The air around him was cool and dry, brushing against the tips of his ears and the pads of his paws. The thin airline blanket trapped a pocket of warmth against his chest and stomach, but his arms felt chilled where the fabric had slipped. His breath came out in a soft, warm cloud he could feel more than see, each inhale slightly shallow from the recycled air.
A dull stiffness pulsed at the base of his neck. His shoulders were tight, his lower back throbbed with a slow pressure, and his tail tingled faintly as sensation crept back in. His legs felt warm but sluggish, his paws cool and slow to respond as he flexed them. But beneath all of that, the stiffness, the fog, the lingering dream, something else had shifted.
The anxiety that had gripped him all morning had eased. Boarding the plane had been the hardest part, the moment where everything felt too real. Now, suspended between two continents, he felt steadier. Not calm, but no longer bracing for impact. The path was set. All he had to do was follow it.
He exhaled, long and quiet, the breath loosening something tight in his chest.
And then, without warning, a thought surfaced, clear, sharp, and painfully gentle.
Owen would’ve teased him for falling asleep like this.
Head tilted, snout slightly open, ears drooping in that unguarded way he never let anyone see. Owen would’ve nudged him awake with a soft laugh, pretending not to stare too long, pretending not to worry. The image hit him with a warmth that spread through his chest, soft and aching.
He could almost hear Owen’s voice, that low, easy tone he used only with Kenji, saying something like, “You’re gonna hurt your neck, dummy.”
Not unkind. Never unkind.
Just… Owen. Kenji swallowed, the memory settling into him like a paw pressed gently against his heart.
Outside the window, there was only darkness. No horizon. No stars. Just his own reflection staring back, eyes still soft with sleep, softened even more by the thought of someone half a world away. Halfway.
He wasn’t in Japan anymore. He wasn’t in America yet. He was somewhere in between, and somehow, that in‑between space made the thought of Owen feel even closer.
Kenji shifted, rolling his shoulders to ease the stiffness, the blanket sliding slightly as cool air brushed his fur. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his paw, feeling the slight puffiness beneath them.
He sat up a little straighter, the heaviness in his limbs slowly giving way to the quiet, steadying truth of it all. He was on his way.
The darkness outside the window held his reflection for a moment longer, soft, unfocused, still touched by sleep. Kenji blinked, trying to steady his breathing, but the quiet of the cabin left too much room for thoughts to slip in.
And one did. Not gently.
It rose up from the back of his mind like a tide he’d been trying to outrun.
************
The late afternoon light in the living room had been warm, almost too warm, turning the wooden floor a deep amber. Kenji sat at the low table with his camera beside him, the strap curled loosely like it was resting. His parents sat across from him, their expressions calm in a way that made his stomach twist.
The envelope lay between them.
His mother nudged it forward. “Your teacher thinks you should consider this.”
He didn’t touch it. He didn’t need to. He already knew what it was, the recommendation letter, the brochure for the photography program in the States, the one his teacher had spoken about with too much enthusiasm for Kenji to escape.
His father folded his paws. “They say you have potential.”
Kenji stared at the envelope, not at them. “I don’t want to go.”
His mother’s voice softened. “Kenji… this could open doors for you.”
“I didn’t ask for doors,” he murmured.
His father’s tone stayed steady, but there was something firm beneath it. “Opportunities like this don’t come often.”
He felt the words settle on him like a weight, not crushing, but heavy enough to make it hard to breathe.
His mother leaned forward, her eyes searching his. “We’ve seen how much time you spend with your camera. You see things other people don’t. You have a gift.”
He swallowed. “My life is here.”
Another look passed between his parents, quiet, worried, full of conclusions he hadn’t agreed to.
His mother reached out, her paw brushing his. “Your uncle is willing to take you in. The program is good… you’d stay until you graduate. And after that… well, you might find reasons to stay there too.” He pulled his paw back gently, not out of anger, out of fear that if he held on, he’d break.
His father’s voice came next, soft but final. “We’ve made the decision. You’ll go.”
The room felt smaller. The air thicker. His camera sat beside him, silent and still, as if it understood before he did.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t shout. He just nodded, barely.
And in that tiny movement, everything shifted.
The sun was low when Kenji found them, that soft, late‑afternoon light that made the courtyard glow in warm gold. Owen sat on the low stone wall outside the school, backpack at his feet, tail flicking lazily. Mika stood beside him, leaning against the wall, sipping a canned coffee she’d bought from the vending machine.
They both looked up when Kenji approached.
Owen grinned. “Hey. You look like you just got bad news or something.”
Mika tilted her head, studying him more closely. “Or like you didn’t sleep. What’s up?”
Kenji hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. “My teacher… talked to my parents.”
Owen straightened. “About the photography thing?”
Mika’s ears perked. “The program in the States?”
Kenji nodded and sat beside Owen, the stone cool beneath him. His camera hung from his neck, the strap warm against his fur.
Owen nudged him lightly. “So? Did you get in?”
Kenji swallowed. “Yeah.”
Mika’s face lit up first, bright, proud, genuinely excited. “Kenji, that’s huge! That program is insanely competitive.”
Kenji looked down at his paws. “My parents… want me to go.”
Mika’s smile softened. “Well… yeah. It’s a big opportunity.”
Owen leaned forward, trying to catch Kenji’s eyes. “This is good news.”
Kenji forced a nod. “Yeah.”
But Mika’s gaze sharpened. She wasn’t fooled. “You don’t look happy about it.”
Kenji’s breath hitched. “I’m just… processing.”
Mika exchanged a glance with Owen, not dramatic, just a quiet moment of shared concern.
Owen bumped Kenji’s shoulder again, gentler this time. “It’s a lot. I get it.”
But Kenji didn’t know how to explain the part he was hiding, the part where he didn’t want to go, where the acceptance felt more like a sentence than a dream.
Mika stepped closer, her voice softer. “You don’t have to pretend with us, you know.”
Kenji’s chest tightened. “I’m not pretending.”
She didn’t argue, but her eyes said she didn’t believe him. Owen tried to lighten the mood. “Just don’t forget about us when you’re famous.”
Mika snorted. “Especially me. I want free prints.”
Kenji managed a small laugh, but it came out thin. “I won’t.”
Owen stood, slinging his backpack over one shoulder. “Come on. We’ll walk you home.”
Mika nodded, falling into step beside them. “Yeah. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Kenji followed, the distance between them small, but the future stretching out in front of him like a road he hadn’t chosen.
************
Kenji blinked hard, the memory dissolving as the cabin lights hummed softly overhead. His chest felt tight again, but not from fear, from the quiet, aching truth of it.
He hadn’t wanted to leave. He hadn’t chosen this path.
He was just following it because everyone else believed he should. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his paw, trying to steady himself as the engines droned on.
Halfway to a future he never asked for.
Halfway from a life he wasn’t ready to let go of.
And somewhere far behind him, Owen, the one person he wished he could have told the truth to.
Kenji stared at the phone in his lap for a long time before he finally picked it up again. His paws felt unsteady, the pads cool against the smooth glass. The cabin around him was dim and hushed, the kind of quiet that made every small movement feel louder than it should.
He unlocked the screen.
The chat thread with Owen sat there, unchanged.
Still frozen. Still waiting.
His thumb hovered over it.
A breath in. A breath out.
He tapped. The thread opened. And there it was, his own message staring back at him, the one he’d sent the night before: “I’m really going to miss you tomorrow.”
For a moment, nothing else existed.
Just that line.
Just the memory of how his heart had hammered after sending it. Then he scrolled down. There was a reply. Just one.
Sent hours after he’d already fallen asleep.
“I’ll miss you too. More than you think.”
Kenji’s breath caught.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t anything he could cling to or run from. But it was honest. And it was Owen.
Soft. Careful. Trying not to say too much, but saying more than he realized.
Kenji’s chest tightened, a slow ache blooming beneath his ribs. He read the message again.
And again.
His paw trembled slightly as he held the phone, the glow of the screen reflecting faintly in his eyes. He could almost hear Owen’s voice in the words, that quiet sincerity he only used when it was just the two of them.
He wanted to reply. He wanted to say something back. Anything.
But every sentence he tried to form felt too big, too heavy, too close to the truth he wasn’t ready to face. So he didn’t type anything.
He just sat there, staring at the message, letting the warmth and the ache twist together in his chest.
Outside the window, the darkness stretched on, endless, horizonless, but for the first time since he boarded the plane, Kenji didn’t feel completely alone.
Owen’s words sat on the screen like a paw resting gently over his heart.
“I will miss you too. More than you know.”
Kenji stared at Owen’s message for a long time.
“I will miss you too. More than you know.”
The words sat on the screen like a warm paw pressed against his chest, comforting, but almost too much to bear. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, the soft glow of the phone lighting the fur on his paws.
He typed.
“I miss you already.”
He stared at it. Too much. He deleted it.
He tried again. “I wish we had more time yesterday.” He read it twice.
Too honest. Deleted. Another attempt.
“I’ll text you when I land.”
Safe. Neutral. Easy.
But it felt wrong, too small for what he was feeling, too thin to carry the weight of the ache in his chest. He deleted that one too. His thumb hovered again, the empty text box blinking like it was waiting for him to be brave.
He wasn’t.
Not right now.
Kenji locked the phone, the screen going dark in his paw. He let it rest on his lap for a moment, breathing slowly, trying to steady the tightness in his chest.
He needed a distraction.
Something simple.
Something that didn’t ask anything of him.
He unlocked the phone again not to message, but to swipe to the next screen.
A row of game icons greeted him.
Puzzle games. Rhythm games. A little farming sim Mika had insisted he download. A silly platformer Owen had beaten him at more times than he’d admit.
His thumb hovered over that one. He tapped it.
The cheerful chime of the loading screen felt almost jarring in the quiet cabin, but familiar enough to ease the knot in his stomach. Bright colors filled the display, a tiny character bouncing across the screen.
Kenji let out a slow breath. He could handle this, at least.
He leaned back in his seat, the hum of the engines steady beneath him, and let the game pull him in, not because he wasn’t thinking about Owen, but because thinking about Owen hurt in a way he wasn’t ready to sit with.
Not yet.
For now, he just needed something simple. Something he could control.
Something that didn’t ask him to say the things he wasn’t ready to say.
His character jumped across the first platform. Kenji followed.
Kenji leaned back in his seat, letting the bright colors of the game fill his vision. The cheerful music felt almost out of place in the dim cabin, but it kept his paws busy and his thoughts from drifting too far into the ache sitting behind his ribs.
He focused on the rhythm of the jumps.
The timing. The simplicity. Anything but the message he couldn’t bring himself to send.
************
Back in Japan, in a quiet bedroom washed in moonlight, Owen lay awake. His phone rested on his chest, screen dark for the moment, but he could feel the weight of it like a heartbeat. He knew Kenji hadn’t landed yet, he’d checked the flight time more than once. Fourteen hours. Even if Kenji left late that morning, he’d still be somewhere over the ocean right now, unreachable.
That should have made the silence easier. It didn’t. If anything, knowing Kenji couldn’t reply yet made Owen feel even more restless, like he was holding onto something fragile and invisible, afraid it would slip through his fingers the moment the plane touched down. He unlocked his phone again, the soft glow lighting the edges of his black, tousled hair. The blank message box stared back at him, waiting. His ears twitched as he rolled onto his back, denim jacket tossed on the floor, white shirt wrinkled from hours of pacing earlier.
Kenji’s name sat at the top of the screen.
He exhaled slowly, chest tightening.
He typed a few words. Deleted them. Typed again. Then deleted them again.
His claws clicked softly each time they tapped the glass. Finally, he forced himself to write something.
Owen: Hey. How’s the flight?
He stared at it. Pointless. Kenji wouldn’t see it for hours.
And even then… what was he supposed to say back?
Owen deleted it.
His tail flicked once, agitated. He tried again.
Owen: I hope you’re settling in okay. I know it’s probably weird there without... He stopped.
Without what? Without me? Without us?
His throat tightened. He erased the message. He sat up, running a paw through his hair, messing it up even more. The room felt too quiet. Too still. Too full of everything he wasn’t saying.
He typed again, slower this time.
Owen: I went to the arcade today. It wasn’t the same.
He hesitated. His paw trembled slightly as he continued.
I kept thinking about the last time we were there. You were laughing so hard you almost fell out of the chair. I… I didn’t realize how much I’d miss that.
His heart thudded. He stared at the words, feeling exposed just reading them. He added one more line before he could stop himself.
I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you.
Owen froze. His ears lifted, then flattened again. His breath hitched. His claws tapped nervously against the phone case. He read the message again.
Too honest. Too raw.
Too close to something he wasn’t ready to face, not while Kenji was thousands of miles away in the dark, unreachable, suspended between worlds.
His paw hovered over the send button.
For a moment, just one, he imagined Kenji reading it. Imagined Kenji’s eyes widening. Imagined the silence on the other end. Imagined everything changing. His chest tightened painfully. He couldn’t do it. Not yet.
With a shaky exhale, Owen selected the entire message and deleted it. The screen went blank again, empty and cold.
He set the phone face down on his chest and lay back, staring at the ceiling. His ears twitched at every small sound in the house, but his mind was far away, in an arcade filled with flashing lights, in a memory that felt too warm and too close.
Owen picked up his phone and stared at the blank chat with Kenji for a long moment before finally locking his phone. The screen went dark, leaving him alone with the faint hum of the house and the moonlight spilling across his sheets.
He needed to talk to someone. Someone who wouldn’t ask too many questions. Someone who already knew.
He opened his phone; his thumb hovered for a moment before he opened another chat.
Mika.
She was usually awake late, sketching, gaming, or just refusing to sleep like a normal person. He typed slowly, trying to sound casual.
Owen: You up?
He hit send before he could overthink it. The reply came faster than he expected.
Mika: Yeah. What’s wrong?
Of course, she knew something was wrong. Mika always knew. Owen sighed and rolled onto his side, tail flicking against the blankets.
Owen: Nothing. Just… can’t sleep.
A pause. Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.
Mika: Is this about Kenji?
Owen closed his eyes. He didn’t want to lie. He didn’t want to tell the truth either.
Owen: He’s still in the air. Probably won’t land for hours.
Mika: I know. I checked the flight time earlier.
He huffed a quiet laugh. Of course she did.
Owen: I keep thinking about him.
Mika: Yeah. Me too.
Her honesty made something in his chest loosen, just a little.
Mika: You talked to him before he left, right?
Owen hesitated.
Owen: Yeah. A little.
Mika: And?
He stared at the ceiling, remembering Kenji’s voice, the way he’d looked everywhere except at him.
Owen: He said he’d miss me.
There was a longer pause this time.
Mika: That’s not nothing, Owen.
He swallowed hard.
Owen: I know. I just… don’t know what to do with it.
Mika: You don’t have to do anything right now. He’s on a plane. You’re here. Just breathe.
Owen let out a slow exhale he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Mika: And when he lands, you’ll figure it out. Both of you.
He stared at her message, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. Mika wasn’t trying to fix anything. She wasn’t pushing him. She was just… there.
It helped more than he expected.
Owen: Thanks.
Mika: Anytime. Now try to sleep, idiot.
He smiled, small, tired, but real.
Owen: Night, Mika.
Mika: Night. And Owen?
He blinked.
Owen: Yeah?
Mika: He misses you too. You know that, right?
Owen’s breath caught. He didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.
He set the phone down beside him, staring at the ceiling again — but this time, the room didn’t feel quite as heavy.
He whispered into the quiet room, barely audible.
“Goodnight, Kenji.”
He knew Kenji wouldn’t hear it.
But he said it anyway.
************
Mika set her phone down on her desk, the soft click sounding too sharp in the stillness of her room. Moonlight spilled through the window, catching in the loose waves of her blond hair and turning them almost silver. The glow brushed over her sketchbooks, the scattered pencils, and the half‑finished drawing on her tablet, all the quiet pieces of her world.
She exhaled slowly, shoulders sinking.
Owen was hurting.
She could hear it in every message he sent.
She could feel it in the pauses between his words.
And it tugged at something deep inside her.
She pulled her legs up onto the chair, folding into herself. Her long hair slipped forward over her shoulders, brushing her cheeks as she rested her chin on her knees. Her tail curled around the chair leg, flicking with a restless rhythm she couldn’t quite stop.
He wasn’t supposed to affect her like this.
He was her friend, one of her closest.
He was Kenji’s closest.
The three of them had always moved together, orbiting the same center.
But tonight… she felt that orbit shifting.
She closed her eyes, replaying the moment she’d typed the words: “He misses you too. You know that, right?”
She hadn’t planned to say it.
It just slipped out, the truth she could see so clearly, even if Owen couldn’t.
But the moment she sent it, something in her chest tightened.
Because she wasn’t just comforting him.
She was nudging him toward someone else.
Someone he cared about. Someone she cared about too. Someone who wasn’t her.
Mika pressed her forehead lightly against her knees, breathing in the faint scent of paper and pencil shavings. Her green eyes stung, and she blinked hard, annoyed at herself.
She hated this feeling.
Not jealousy, not exactly. More like a quiet, persistent ache.
A reminder that she was standing just outside, something she couldn’t name.
She liked Owen. More than she should. More than she ever meant to.
But Owen’s heart was already drifting somewhere else, following a boy who didn’t even realize how much he meant to him.
And Mika… Mika was the one left holding the pieces.
The one who saw everything.
The one who understood both better than they understood themselves.
She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her paw, blond hair falling forward again as she muttered, “Get it together.”
But the room stayed silent.
And the ache stayed exactly where it was.
She reached for her sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. Her pencil hovered for a moment before moving on its own, soft strokes, gentle curves, shadows forming without conscious thought.
When she finally looked down, she saw them.
Kenji in the middle. Owen leaning toward him. And her… just a little off to the side.
Close enough to touch. Far enough to feel the distance.
Mika closed the sketchbook with a quiet sigh.
She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t bitter. She was just… sad.
Sad for Owen. Sad for Kenji. Sad for herself.
Because she knew better than either of them, that when Kenji landed, everything between the three of them would shift. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. Not yet.
************
Kenji closed the game and glanced toward the window, expecting the same endless black he’d been staring at for hours.
But something had changed.
A faint glow touched the edge of the glass, soft at first, like someone had brushed a pale watercolor across the sky. He leaned closer, breath catching as the darkness slowly peeled away.
Below him, the clouds were no longer invisible.
They were turning gold.
The sun was rising.
The light spilled over the horizon in a slow, breathtaking sweep, painting the tops of the clouds in warm amber and soft pink. They looked like mountains made of light, towering, silent, impossibly close.
Kenji pressed his paw to the window without thinking.
For the first time since the flight began, he felt something loosen in his chest.
A quiet awe.
A reminder that the world was bigger than his fear, bigger than the ache he carried.
As the plane dipped lower, the clouds parted, revealing the city beneath, a patchwork of buildings catching the morning light, roads glinting like silver threads, tiny cars moving like sparks.
It didn’t feel real. He’d seen pictures. He’d watched videos.
But seeing it from above, seeing the place he was about to live, made everything inside him go still.
The captain’s voice came over the speakers, warm and steady: “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing shortly.”
Kenji swallowed, eyes still fixed on the glowing horizon.
He wasn’t ready. He was terrified.
But he was also… amazed. The world outside the window was waking up. And so was he
The moment Kenji stepped through the sliding doors into the arrivals hall, the noise hit him first, rolling voices, suitcase wheels clattering, announcements echoing overhead. Everything felt too bright after the dim cabin, too loud after hours of engine hum.
He adjusted the strap of his backpack, scanning the crowd.
He didn’t have to look long.
A tall husky with thick silver‑and‑black fur and a ridiculous pair of sunglasses indoors, was waving both arms like he was trying to flag down a helicopter.
“KENJI!” he shouted, loud enough that several people turned. Kenji froze.
Of course. Clark hadn’t changed at all.
He strode through the crowd with the confidence of someone who believed the entire airport existed purely for his convenience. His tail curled high, swaying with every step. His grin was wide, easy, and just a little too charming.
“Look at you!” Clark said as he reached him, grabbing Kenji by the shoulders and giving him a once‑over. “You grew. Or I shrank. Probably you. Damn, kid.”
Kenji felt his ears warm. “Hi, Uncle Clark.”
Clark pushed his sunglasses up onto his head revealing striking icy‑blue eyes that sparkled with mischief and ruffled Kenji’s hair immediately.
Kenji ducked away, ears flattening. “I’m not a kid.”
“Sure you’re not,” Clark said, already grabbing Kenji’s suitcase like it weighed nothing. “Come on. You hungry? Jet‑lagged? Emotionally damaged? All three? I got solutions for everything.”
Kenji blinked. “Solutions?”
Clark winked. “Food, sleep, and terrible advice. In that order.”
He slung an arm around Kenji’s shoulders and steered him toward the exit with the casual confidence of someone who flirted with flight attendants for sport, which, judging by the way one waved at him as they passed, he absolutely had.
Kenji’s tail flicked awkwardly behind him. “You didn’t have to come all the way inside.”
“Please,” Clark scoffed. “You think I’m gonna let my favorite nephew wander around a foreign airport alone? I’m irresponsible, not heartless.”
“You only have one nephew.”
“Exactly. It makes you the favorite by default. Lucky you.”
Kenji couldn’t help it, a small, tired smile tugged at his mouth. Clark noticed immediately.
“There it is,” he said, nudging him gently. “Knew I’d get one out of you.”
They stepped through the final set of doors, and the cool morning air washed over them. Clark stretched like he’d just woken from a nap.
“Welcome to America, kid. Hope you’re ready. My neighbors think I’m a menace.”
Kenji blinked. “Are you?”
Clark grinned, sharp and bright. “Absolutely.”
And somehow, despite the chaos, the noise, the unfamiliar world waiting outside…
Kenji felt a little less alone.
Clark’s car was surprisingly nice, a sleek dark‑blue SUV with polished rims and a spotless interior that smelled faintly of cedar and expensive cologne. Kenji blinked. He’d expected… worse.
Clark tossed Kenji’s suitcase into the trunk with one smooth motion and slid into the driver’s seat like he owned the entire parking garage.
“Buckle up kid,” he said, tapping the dashboard. “She’s fast. Like me.”
Kenji hesitated. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
Clark grinned. “Absolutely not.”
He pulled out of the airport with confidence that made Kenji grip the door handle, not because the car was falling apart, but because Clark drove like he was auditioning for an action movie. Smooth, controlled, but just a little too enthusiastic.
Kenji looked out the window at the wide roads and unfamiliar skyline. “It’s… big.”
Clark smirked. “That’s what…”
“Uncle Clark.”
He laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For at least… five minutes.”
They merged onto the highway. Clark accelerated just a little too quickly, but the car handled it effortlessly. Kenji’s tail twitched.
“Jet lag hitting you yet?” Clark asked.
“A little.”
“Classic rookie mistake. You gotta stay awake until tonight. No naps. Naps are the devil.”
“That sounds unhealthy.”
Clark shrugged. “So is adulthood. You’ll get used to it.” Kenji let out a small laugh despite himself.
Clark perked up instantly. “There it is! I knew I’d get you to crack.”
They passed a row of shops, neon signs still flickering from the night before. Kenji watched everything with wide eyes, the space, the colors, the unfamiliarity.
Clark noticed.
“Feels weird, right? Makes sense. You were tiny the last time you visited. We mostly just hit the zoo and grabbed pizza.”
Kenji nodded. “I remember the pizza.”
Clark laughed. “Oh, I know you do. You inhaled half the pie. I was so proud.”
Kenji’s ears warmed. “It was good…”
“It was good,” Clark agreed. “We’ll go again. My treat.”
The city slowly shifted around them, tall buildings giving way to shorter ones, then to rows of houses. The noise faded. The streets widened. Trees appeared, lining the sidewalks in neat rows. Kenji pressed closer to the window. “This… doesn’t look like the city.”
Clark smirked. “Yeah, kid. I don’t do apartments. Too many neighbors. Too many rules. Too many people complaining about ‘noise’ at 2 a.m.”
Kenji blinked. “Why would there be noise at 2 a.m.?”
Clark grinned. “Because I’m fun.”
Kenji stared. Clark winked.
They turned onto a quieter street lined with tall trees arching overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. The houses here were spaced farther apart, each with its own yard and driveway, still Oakwood, but not the Oakwood Kenji knew. This part felt bigger, newer, almost like a different town entirely
Clark slowed the car and pulled into a parking spot with a little flourish.
“Alright, kid. Welcome to your new neighborhood. Try not to look too terrified. People will think I stole you.”
Kenji rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his mouth was real. Clark nudged him lightly. “Relax. You’ll get used to it. And until you do? I’ve got you.”
Everything was new.
Everything was unfamiliar.
But Clark’s ridiculous confidence made it feel just a little less scary.
Clark unlocked the front door with a little flourish, tail flicking behind him like he was presenting something grand.
“Alright, kid,” he said, pushing the door open. “Welcome to Casa de Clark. Shoes off, trauma optional.”
Kenji stepped inside cautiously.
The house was… surprisingly nice.
Warm wooden floors. Big windows letting in soft morning light. A living room with a huge couch, a sleek TV mounted on the wall, and a coffee table that looked expensive but had a few scuffs that felt very Clark. A faint smell of cedar and something citrusy hung in the air, probably the candle he bragged about lighting.
Kenji blinked. “It’s… clean.”
Clark puffed up proudly. “I know. I did that. Me. With my own paws.” Kenji looked at him skeptically.
Clark held up a paw. “Swear on my good looks. I even vacuumed.” Kenji’s ears twitched. “You vacuumed?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Clark said, already walking ahead. “Come on, I’ll show you around.”
He led Kenji through the living room, pointing things out with the enthusiasm of a tour guide who had no business being a tour guide. “That’s the couch. It’s comfy. Don’t spill anything on it. Actually, spill whatever you want, I don’t care. That’s the kitchen, snacks are free, judgment is extra. Bathrooms down the hall. Don’t open the second drawer. Ever.”
Kenji paused. “Why?”
Clark waved him off. “It’s not dangerous. Just… personal.”
Kenji decided not to ask.
They reached a short hallway with two doors. Clark stopped in front of the one on the right and nudged it open with his elbow.
“And this,” he said, “is your room.”
Kenji stepped inside.
It wasn’t huge, but it was bright. A bed with fresh sheets. A small desk. A dresser. A window overlooking the quiet street. Clark had even put a little lamp on the nightstand, warm, soft light that made the room feel safe.
Kenji’s chest loosened a little.
Clark leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Not bad, right? I tried to make it… you know. Kid‑friendly. But not babyish. You’re eleven, not five.”
Kenji nodded. “It’s nice.”
Clark grinned. “Good. Drop your stuff wherever. We’ll organize it later. Or never. I’m flexible.”
Kenji set his backpack on the bed and placed his suitcase beside the dresser. He didn’t unpack yet, the room still felt too new, too untouched, like stepping into someone else’s life.
Clark watched him for a moment, then clapped his paws together. “Alright! You ready to hit the town?”
Kenji blinked. “Now?”
“Yep. You need clothes, snacks, and after that?” Clark wiggled his eyebrows. “Pizza.”
Kenji’s tail lifted just a little. “Pizza?”
“Damn right. Best place in Oakwood. You’re gonna love it.”
Kenji took one last look at his room, its unfamiliarity, but waiting for him, then followed Clark back down the hall.
Everything was new. Everything was different.
But for the first time since landing, Kenji felt a spark of excitement
Clark jingled his keys as they stepped back outside. “Alright, kid. First stop is supplies. You need clothes, snacks, and probably a toothbrush that isn’t from an airport vending machine.”
Kenji followed him to the SUV, still taking in the unfamiliar neighborhood. “I have a toothbrush…”
Clark waved a paw dismissively. “Yeah, but it’s a sad one. We’re upgrading you.”
Clark backed out of the driveway with a little too much confidence, tail flicking as he adjusted the radio to something upbeat. Kenji sat quietly, paws folded in his lap, watching the unfamiliar streets of this side of Oakwood roll past.
They turned onto a main road, passing a small wooded park with a narrow walking trail. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting warm patches across the grass.
Kenji’s gaze caught on two figures near the edge of the woods.
The first was a fox, orange fur, large ears, dressed in a loose hoodie and cargo shorts. But what struck Kenji wasn’t the clothes or the color.
It was the way the fox moved.
Smooth. Effortless.
Like every step was part of a rhythm only he could hear. He wasn’t bouncing or flailing. His gestures were fluid, almost graceful, as he spoke with one paw lifting in an easy arc, his tail swaying behind him in a slow, confident sweep. His whole presence felt… calm but magnetic, like he didn’t need to try to be noticed.
Behind him walked a light beige, mixed with white, husky, blue eyes, red t-shirt, and brown pants. He followed closely, not out of nervousness, but out of something warmer. His eyes were bright, fixed on the fox with an unmistakable enthusiasm, like he was watching someone he admired more than he could say.
Kenji stared, something about the moment catching in his chest.
The fox’s smooth confidence. The husky’s quiet devotion. The way they moved together, like they fit. It felt important, even though he didn’t know why.
Clark noticed.
“Friends of yours?” he asked, glancing over.
Kenji shook his head. “No. Just… saw them.”
Clark followed his gaze briefly, then smirked. “That fox looks like trouble.”
Kenji tilted his head. “He looks happy.”
Clark raised an eyebrow. “Same thing.”
Kenji huffed a quiet laugh.
Clark grinned. “There it is. I’m keeping score.”
They drove on, the park fading behind them, but Kenji kept thinking about the two figures, the way the fox moved, the way the husky followed, the way something about it felt… important. Like a story he hadn’t heard yet. Like a feeling waiting to happen.
By the time they pulled into the shopping plaza, Kenji felt a little lighter, still overwhelmed, still adjusting, but not quite as lost. Clark parked diagonally across two spaces.
Kenji stared. “Uncle Clark… you’re not supposed to do that.”
Clark shrugged. “I’m a rebel.”
“You’re going to get in trouble.”
Clark grinned. “Only if we get caught.”
Kenji sighed.
Clark ruffled his hair. “Relax. I’ll fix it later. Probably.” And with that, the chaotic shopping adventure began.
The automatic doors whooshed open, and Clark marched inside like he owned the place. Kenji followed, still thinking about the fox’s smooth steps and the husky’s bright eyes. The moment clung to him like a half‑remembered dream.
Clark grabbed a cart with unnecessary force. “Alright, kid. Operation: Make You Presentable begins now.”
Kenji blinked. “Was I not presentable before?”
Clark paused, squinted at him dramatically, then shrugged. “You were… fine. But we can do better.”
Kenji sighed softly, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Clark steered the cart straight into the boys’ clothing aisle, stopping so abruptly that Kenji bumped into him.
“Okay,” Clark said, paws on hips. “We’re starting with essentials.” He grabbed a hoodie off the rack, navy blue, soft-looking, simple. “This one. Good color. Makes you look mysterious.”
Kenji tilted his head. “I don’t want to look mysterious.” Clark tossed it into the cart anyway. “Too late. You’re eleven.
Mystery is your brand now.”
Then came shirts. Jeans. Shorts.
A jacket Kenji absolutely did not need.
A beanie Clark insisted made him look “cool in a brooding way.” Kenji tugged Clark’s sleeve. “Uncle Clark… that’s a lot.”
Clark waved him off. “You’re growing. And, I have no self-control.”
Kenji blinked. “You should… work on that.”
Clark gasped dramatically. “How dare you attack me with facts.”
Kenji snorted a tiny sound, but Clark lit up like he’d won a prize.
They turned into the snack aisle, and Clark stopped dead in his tracks.
“Kenji,” he whispered, “behold. The promised land.”
Kenji stared at the shelves. “It’s just snacks.”
Clark placed a paw on his shoulder. “Kid. Snacks are never ‘just’ snacks.”
He grabbed a box of cookies and tossed it in the cart.
Kenji reached for a small bag of chips.
Clark stared at him like he’d committed a crime. “That’s it?”
Kenji shrugged. “I don’t want too much.”
Clark grabbed three more bags and dropped them in. “You’re living with me now. Moderation is dead.”
Kenji rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.
They moved on to toiletries. Clark grabbed a sixpack of toothbrushes.
Kenji frowned. “Why do I need six?”
“You don’t” Clark said. “But they were on sale.”
He added shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and deodorant all tossed into the cart with the confidence of someone who had never once compared prices in his life.
Kenji tugged his sleeve again. “Uncle Clark… this is too much.” Clark softened. “Kid, you just moved across the world. Let me spoil you a little.”
Kenji’s ears warmed. “Okay…”
Clark ruffled his hair. “Good. Now let’s go check out before I buy the whole store.
The cashier raised an eyebrow at the mountain of items Clark had piled onto the belt.
Clark just grinned. “Don’t judge me. I’m a responsible adult.”
Kenji whispered, “Are you?”
Clark winked. “Absolutely not.”
He paid without hesitation not even flinching at the total, and loaded everything into the SUV with the efficiency of someone who had done this many times before. Kenji climbed into the passenger seat, still overwhelmed but… happy. The bags rustled in the back as Clark shut the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Alright, kid,” Clark said, buckling in. “Next stop?”
Kenji looked over. “Pizza?”
Clark grinned. “Damn right. Best place in Oakwood. You’re gonna love it.”
Kenji’s tail lifted slightly.
Clark pulled out of the shopping plaza with a satisfied sigh, drumming his paws on the steering wheel. “Alright, kid. You ready for the best pizza in Oakwood?”
Kenji nodded. “Is it really the best?”
Clark gasped dramatically. “Kenji. I would never lie about pizza.”
Kenji gave him a look.
Clark corrected himself. “Okay, I lie about a lot of things. But not this.”
A few turns later, they rolled up to a cozy brick building with a deep red awning. Painted across the front window in looping gold letters was the name: Mi Organo
Kenji tilted his head. “Mi… Organo?”
Clark parked with theatrical flair. “Don’t question greatness.
As they approached the door, Kenji noticed the smell of baked dough and herbs, that seemed to wrap around Kenji like a blanket. As they entered the lighting was warm, the chatter soft, the atmosphere cozy in a way that felt lived in.
A server waved at Clark. “Back again?”
Clark puffed up proudly. “I’m a loyal customer.”
Kenji whispered, “How often do you come here?”
Clark whispered back, “Don’t worry about it.”
They slid into a booth. The server came over and handed them menus, but Clark didn’t even glance.
“Large pepperoni, half plain cheese, extra crispy crust,” he said.
“And garlic knots. And a root beer. And a water for the kid.”
Kenji blinked. “I can order for myself…”
Clark waved him off. “I know. But I’m a control freak.”
The server smirked. “He is.”
Clark gasped. “Et tu, Mi Organo?”
Kenji snorted.
Clark grinned. “That’s four laughs today. I’m unstoppable.”
While they waited, Kenji looked around the restaurant. Every wall seemed to tell a story. Old newspaper clippings were carefully pinned up alongside faded posters, each one a snapshot of the restaurant’s past. Black-and-white photos captured Mi Organo through the years, showing how both the place and its people had changed over time. The atmosphere felt rich with history, and Kenji found himself drawn into the stories that surrounded him.
Clark noticed his wandering gaze. “Mi Organo’s been here forever. Everyone in Oakwood’s eaten here at least once. It’s like… a rite of passage.”
Kenji nodded slowly.
He liked that. A place with history. A place that mattered to people.
The server returned with a steaming pizza, the cheese bubbling, the crust perfectly crisp. The garlic knots glistened with butter and herbs.
Kenji’s ears perked immediately.
Clark chuckled. “Ah, there it is. The universal language.”
Kenji took a slice of plain cheese and the moment he bit into it, his eyes widened.
It was good. Really good.
Clark watched him with a smug grin. “Told you.”
Kenji swallowed. “It’s… better than the place back home.”
Clark put a paw to his chest. “My heart. My fragile heart.”
Kenji smiled a real one this time.
When they finished, Clark leaned back with a satisfied groan. “I regret nothing.”
Kenji wiped his paws with a napkin. “I’m full.”
Clark nodded. “Good. That means I did my job.”
They stepped outside into the cool evening air. The sky was turning soft shades of purple and gold. Kenji breathed in deeply, the scent of pizza and pine trees mixing in the breeze.
Clark unlocked the SUV. “Ready to head home?”
Kenji hesitated, just a second, then nodded. “Yes.”
And as they drove away, Kenji glanced back at the glowing sign of Mi Organo, feeling something warm settle in his chest.
A place with history. A place with heart. A place he already wanted to come back to.
The drive back from Mi Organo was quieter than the ride there. The sky outside the SUV had deepened into a soft purple, the first stars peeking through. Kenji leaned his head against the window, watching the houses pass by, each one with its own porch light, its own yard, its own little world.
Clark hummed along to the radio, tapping the steering wheel in a rhythm that didn’t match the song at all.
When they pulled into the driveway, the house looked different than it had that morning. Warmer. Less intimidating. Maybe it was the glow from the windows, or maybe it was the full stomach, or maybe it was just… time.
Clark stretched as he stepped out. “Alright, kid. Let’s unload this mountain.”
Kenji followed him to the trunk. Clark popped it open, revealing the absurd number of bags they’d accumulated.
Kenji blinked. “We bought too much.”
Clark grinned. “Absolutely. Now grab a bag.”
Kenji carried the bags up the stairs, each step feeling heavier and lighter at the same time. When he reached the doorway to his room, he paused.
The room was still mostly empty, just the bed, the dresser, the desk but it didn’t feel empty anymore. It felt like a blank page.
And then he noticed the door on the right.
A small bathroom.
His bathroom.
He stepped inside, flicking on the light. The tiles were clean, the mirror spotless, the shower curtain a simple pale blue. It wasn’t big, but it was his. A space he didn’t have to share. A space he could close the door to and just… exist.
Something in his chest loosened.
He set the bags down and opened the first one.
Clothes. The hoodie Clark insisted made him look “mysterious.” The shirts. The jeans. The beanie.
He folded each item carefully, placing them in the dresser drawers one by one. The simple rhythm of it calmed him.
Next bag: toiletries. Shampoo. Conditioner. Body wash. Deodorant.
He carried them into the bathroom and lined them up neatly on the counter, adjusting each bottle until they looked just right. Seeing them there, his things, in his space made the room feel a little more real.
Then came the snacks, the chips, the cookies, the things Clark insisted were “essential for survival.” Kenji tucked them into the bottom drawer of his desk, unsure if that was the right place but liking the idea of having them close.
Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, looking around. It still didn’t feel like home. Not yet.
But it felt like a place he can grow into.
A place he can make his own.
A place where something new can happen.
Downstairs, Clark called up, “You alive up there?”
Kenji called back, “Yes!”
“Good! If you die, I’m not doing the paperwork!”
Kenji shook his head, smiling despite himself.
And for the first time since he’d arrived, the house didn’t feel so big
Kenji stood at his desk for a moment, paws resting lightly on the surface, the quiet of the room settling around him like a soft blanket. Downstairs, Clark is still moving around opening cabinets, humming off key, but up here, everything feels still.
And in that stillness, his mind drifts back to the scene of the two kids he saw in the park.
The fox. The white husky. The way they moved together.
He hadn’t meant to think about them again, but the memory slipped in anyway, the fox’s smooth, effortless steps, the husky following with that bright, almost glowing look in his eyes. Not clingy. Not nervous. Just… drawn in. Like the fox was the center of something he didn’t want to step out of.
Kenji frowns softly.
It hits him then, the shape of it. The familiarity. They acted like him and Owen.
Not exactly like he and Owen, they didn’t walk through forests or laugh that loudly in public. But the closeness, the ease, the way the husky watched the fox… that part felt familiar. Too familiar.
Because sometimes Owen looked at him like that.
Not always. Not obviously.
But enough that Kenji noticed, even if he didn’t understand it. His chest tightened, not painfully, just enough to make him pause.
He reaches for his backpack and pulls out the stack of scrapbooks he brought from home. The covers are worn, the corners bent from years of flipping through them. He carries them to his desk and begins arranging them carefully, one by one, lining them up so the spines match.
As he worked, his thoughts drift again.
What is Owen doing right now?
Is he at home?
Is he thinking about him?
Is he okay?
Kenji runs a paw over the cover of the oldest scrapbook the one with the faded sticker Owen put on it years ago. A tiny fox sticker, peeling at the edges.
He swallows.
He opens the scrapbook, flipping through pages filled with photos, ticket stubs, little notes Owen had written and stuck between the pages. Each one feels like a small echo of a moment he didn’t realize he’d miss this much.
A picture of them at the arcade.
A blurry selfie Owen insisted on taking.
A doodle Owen drew of the two of them, Kenji taller, Owen grinning too wide.
Kenji’s ears lower slightly.
He doesn’t know what to do with the connection forming in his mind. He doesn’t even know if he’s supposed to.
But he knows it matters. And he knows it’s not going away.
He closes the scrapbook gently and sets it on the desk, arranging the others beside it until the row looks neat, intentional, like it belongs here.
Like he belongs here.
And then his eyes drift to the box sitting beside the desk, the one Clark shoved into the cart with a casual, “Kid, you’re gonna need this for school. And gaming. And life.”
Kenji opened it carefully, lifting out the brand-new laptop. Sleek. Clean. Untouched. His.
Clark bought it for him. Just… bought it. Like it was nothing.
Kenji sets it on the desk, plugs it in, and watches the screen glow to life. The soft light reflects in his eyes, and something inside him settles.
He needs to write Owen an email.
Not a text. Not a quick message he’ll overthink and delete. A real email. Something he can take his time with. Something Owen can read and reread if he wants to.
Before he forgets. Before the feeling fades. Before he talks himself out of it.
Kenji opens a blank email window.
His paws hover over the keyboard. His heart beats a little faster.
Kenji is halfway through his email when Clark calls up the stairs:
“Kid! Don’t stay up too late! Tomorrow’s gonna be chaos!”
Kenji smiles faintly.
He looks back at the email unfinished but started. He closes the laptop gently.
He crawls into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin.
In this chapter I wanted to introduce another character that I think many will like. Clark is the kind of uncle who turns heads and hearts in equal measure. Towering and broad-chested, he’s got the physical presence of someone who could wrestle a bear and then offer it a beer. His fur is thick and expressive, his tail sways with a rhythm that matches his mood, usually upbeat, occasionally contemplative. That bright orange Hawaiian shirt isn’t just a fashion choice, it’s a declaration. Clark lives out loud, and he wants you to know it.
I hope that everyone will enjoy this chapter I really had a blast creating it, I will also need to thank my best friend for helping me with the image to my story
This story is turning out to be every bit the emotional journey I hoped it would be! ❤️ You have such a great way of writing. Not just the things you describe, but the way you structure sentences and everything just hits really well for me.
Clark is such a fun character. His carefree playfulness is the perfect foil for Kenji's stress and anxiety. It made the chapter so much fun! And not one but two new characters I really like in this one. Mika is really interesting too. I'm curious how that dynamic will unfold. Distance does interesting things to relationships. With Owen and Mika being so close and Kenji being so far. I'm curious what kind of complexities might emerge from that. There's so much nuance and relatability in that dynamic. I'm sure it's going to be really interesting. Kenji and Owen both saying goodnight to each other from across the world was really sweet too, and a really thoughtful way to sort of punctuate the two halves of the chapter.
"...the empty text box blinking like it was waiting for him to be brave" I loooveed this. That is such a relatable moment. All the bits of texting back and forth are so well realized. All the moments of stress about what to write, how a message is going to be interpreted, deleting, overthinking, trying again, giving up. All of it hit really close to home for me.
And of course our favorite fox and husky couple showing up 🥰 That was such a treat! You included them in a really nice way that felt natural but important. I'm curious if they'll show up again and to what extent. 😁
I really like the ending bit too. The first tiny seeds of comfort and familiarity starting to germinate when Kenji is in his room. I can remember that feeling so well after moving. The first time a new place starts to feel the tiniest bit comfortable or safe. It's such an interesting aspect of life and adapting.
It's been so much fun to follow this story so far. I'm really glad you made the decision to start writing and sharing with all of us! Can't wait to see what else you've got in store for all of the great cast you're creating. ❤️
This story is turning out to be every bit the emotional journey I hoped it would be! ❤️ You have suc
I’m glad you’re enjoying the journey so far. I’ve got plenty more fun adventures planned for my characters, along with some exciting surprises along the way. It’s great to hear you appreciate how I’m pouring emotions into the characters and introducing new ones as the story progresses. I want this to be a story people can connect with, experiencing both fun and emotional moments alongside the characters.
, as a way to open the door for a possible collaboration so we can create a story together. I’m still figuring out how much they’ll appear, without taking too much focus from their own stories, but they’ll have a small role in Kenji’s friendship arc to help move the story forward. For now, I’m thinking of keeping their appearances to cameos, unless we collaborate, in which case they’ll take on a much bigger role.
I'm glad you liked the ending. I was having a bit of trouble deciding how I really wanted to wrap up the chapter. I could have gone on much longer, but I didn’t want to slow down the pace or risk losing the readers’ interest. I’ve found that keeping chapters from getting too long helps avoid overwhelming the audience with too much information at once.
Developing this story has been an immensely enjoyable experience, and my years of exposure to films, anime, and various other forms of media have significantly influenced my creative vision for its progression. I am genuinely grateful to have embarked on this writing journey, and I recognize that without the inspiration and encouragement from you and our foxy companion, this project might never have come to fruition. It is deeply meaningful to know that the narrative has resonated with two individuals who truly appreciate it.
I’m glad you’re enjoying the journey so far. I’ve got plenty more fun adventures planned for my char
I think you definitely found a good length, and it felt like a natural breaking point. Kenji's eventful first day winding down and quiet moment of contemplation, and like I said, the way you bookended the two parts was really nice. Very much looking forward to more!
I think you definitely found a good length, and it felt like a natural breaking point. Kenji's event
And here we are, second chapter, just one after another, one masterpiece after another. I'm proud of you how much you had creat about Kenji, his life, his surroundings, friends, feelings. There is a lot to point out, so let's maybe begin?
They way how you paints the emotions, the little moves that are showing how the character feels, how much he carry, how hard he struggle with own me, past, present, future. I loved the way how both, Kenji and Owen, are fighting with sharing their true emotions to each other. They know how what they feels singularly, but they had no idea what the other side feels, even if the same spark, fire,.desire wanders around their young bodies. I love it♥️
Even if I was accompanying you through the process, I can't really get to the terms how nice you had wrote this chapter. In short time we could read mind of three characters,.friends, the best ones. Three personalities, there different approaches, three different goals. Mike looks for me like this type of strong girl that is able to punch you right in the face, but only for your good will, inside being warm, artistic and kind soul. Kenji lost, kidnapped from his life and brought to new one, having to acclimating to this spread in front of him world. And Owen, the one that got hit by ricochet, missing a piece of puzzle, a big one, making the whole image broke, unattractive, castrated. Pure poetry♥️♥️
Also the background, noises, view and smells. For me, important, useful, worth adding. It helps imagine the scene better, way better. But, it's not always fitting to add. Sometimes it's worth to skip this part, and use it later, when it will be connecting with something else♥️♥️♥️
An orange happy-go-luck fox, light beige blind husky. Sounds like Déjà Vu, isn't it? Okay, I'm glad that you already think about them, and that you connected them soooo perfectly to your own creations. Together, they have a lot in common, separately, they are empty. You have full acces to use Thomas and Levi in your stories, in any way u see them, I trust you fully. It's so beautiful ♥️♥️♥️🥰
Oh and Clark. OOOOHHH YEAH!!! This dude is what the story needs. A soul that will breaking the mourning. I need him more! Also I have an idea for why he is so low-key, and funny. But this in private someday❤️🔥
So that's what I have to tell you my lovely husky. Keep this up, I love it really much so far and I'm happy to be part of it and being with in the creative prices. Thank you for writing🥰
And here we are, second chapter, just one after another, one masterpiece after another. I'm proud of
Aww, thank you, my lovely foxy, for the kind words ♥️. I’m truly having the time of my life writing this story, and having the people I care about alongside me through this process means the absolute world to me. It’s such a joy to share this experience with those who matter most, so thank you 🥰.
Thanks for the feedback on my use of descriptive words. I’ll try to cut back where it’s not necessary and use them more where they add value. I appreciate criticism, it helps me grow both as a person and as a writer.
Having three different perspectives all at once was a bit overwhelming at first, but it really adds depth to the story. I’m excited to keep going, throw in some curveballs, and see how the characters handle each situation. I’m having such an emotional blast with this dynamic, the ups and downs are like a whirlpool of feelings. With the addition of our mischievous fox and devoted husky, with your permission I’m grateful for the chance to make them apart of the story. Your writing and story inspired this one, and I’ll be sure to take great care of your boys in it.
I was wondering what your thoughts were on why Clark is so low-key and funny, and if you could shed some light on that. I hope the next chapter I create gets a passing grade from everyone, and I’ll try not to disappoint.
Aww, thank you, my lovely foxy, for the kind words ♥️. I’m truly having the time of my life writing
The same feelings I had while writing my own. I was so into this that I was literally lived the story. Thinking, painting the scenes and then writing it all down and hopping someone will see it. Tux did, you did, and now I'm a happy soul because of that🥰
The difference in perspective gives more life into a story because it's shows other views, other feelings and it develops characters. Only good things! I know that my boys are under good roof, and you will give only more colours to them. I'm waiting for more about yours and my boys❤️
The thought about Clark I already gave you, so now I'm interested how you will touch it....
The same feelings I had while writing my own. I was so into this that I was literally lived the stor
