Eri did not forgive easily.

  Especially not before breakfast.

  She sat at the kitchen table with her arms crossed, ears tilted dramatically backward, tails puffed slightly behind her like offended banners. A piece of toast sat untouched on her pte.

  Mira sipped her coffee calmly across from her.

  Alex entered the kitchen cautiously.

  Very cautiously.

  He assessed the scene like someone walking into a wildlife documentary titled When Foxes Are Slightly Annoyed.

  “…morning,” he offered.

  Eri turned her head slowly toward him.

  Her expression softened instantly.

  Her ears lifted halfway.

  “…morning,” she replied, much gentler.

  Mira narrowed her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

  Mom set down a bowl of fruit and looked between them knowingly. “Did I miss something?”

  “Yes,” Mira said ftly. “You missed the feral cuddle ambush.”

  “I was not feral,” Eri muttered.

  “You crawled over him.”

  “I approached respectfully.”

  “You pinned him.”

  “I required support.”

  Alex cleared his throat and focused very hard on his gss of water.

  Mom hid a smile behind her hand. “Well. As long as nobody died.”

  Alex hesitated. “…define died.”

  Eri shot him a look.

  He immediately looked away.

  The morning routine continued with only minor chaos.

  Eri brushed her hair at the counter while Mira braided a small section near her ear “so it doesn’t keep falling in your face,” despite Eri’s weak protests.

  Her tails moved more than usual today — not anxious, just restless. She kept gncing toward Alex like she wanted to say something and then thinking better of it.

  Eventually, as they gathered backpacks near the door, she shuffled a little closer to him.

  “…sorry,” she said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “For… earlier.”

  He blinked. “You mean unching yourself at me?”

  She flushed. “I did not unch.”

  “You did.”

  Her ears drooped slightly. “…I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

  He paused.

  Then shrugged lightly. “It wasn’t weird.”

  She studied his face carefully.

  “…really?”

  “It was just you.”

  That seemed to settle something in her.

  Her tails rexed again.

  “…okay,” she said softly.

  Mira cleared her throat loudly from behind them. “If you two are done having a private rom-com moment, we are leaving.”

  Eri huffed but followed.

  School passed without major incident.

  A few stares.

  A whispered comment in Spanish css that she pretended not to hear.

  One overly curious sophomore who asked if her tails were “attached-attached.”

  She stared at him until he apologized.

  Alex stuck nearby between csses when he could. Not hovering — just there.

  And somehow, knowing he’d still be at the house ter made the day feel less exhausting.

  When the final bell rang, she didn’t feel like she’d run a marathon.

  Just… tired in a normal way.

  By te afternoon they were home again.

  Mira disappeared upstairs to tackle homework.

  Mom started prepping dinner.

  Alex dropped his bag near the couch.

  Eri lingered in the living room doorway.

  The house was quiet again.

  Safe.

  Her tails swayed slowly.

  She hesitated only a moment before stepping closer to Alex.

  He looked up from his phone.

  “…what.”

  She said nothing.

  Instead, she walked over, turned around—

  —and sat down directly on the floor in front of him.

  Very close.

  Then leaned back until her head gently bumped his knee.

  He stared down at her.

  “…you are impossible.”

  She tilted her head slightly to look up at him upside down.

  “Maybe.”

  Her ears twitched once.

  She didn’t say it.

  She didn’t have to.

  He sighed — but it wasn’t annoyed.

  His hand lifted almost automatically.

  And rested on her head.

  Her entire body visibly rexed.

  Not exaggerated.

  Not dramatic.

  Just… settled.

  Her eyes closed slowly.

  Her tails curled loosely around his legs like contented vines.

  “…you didn’t even argue,” she murmured.

  “I’m conserving energy.”

  “For?”

  “For when Mira catches you again.”

  Eri hummed faintly.

  “She’s just jealous.”

  “Of what?”

  She opened one eye.

  “Your excellent petting technique.”

  He almost choked.

  “You cannot just say things like that.”

  She smiled zily.

  “Why not.”

  He had no answer.

  So he kept petting her.

  Slow strokes.

  Gentle scratches behind one ear.

  She melted again — softer this time, less frantic than the morning. This wasn’t urgent need.

  This was comfort chosen.

  After a minute she spoke quietly.

  “…do you think this is going to get harder.”

  He paused slightly.

  “In what way?”

  “At school,” she said. “Outside.”

  He considered that.

  “…maybe,” he admitted. “People talk.”

  Her tails stilled slightly.

  “But,” he continued, “people also get bored. And used to things.”

  She opened her eyes again.

  “And you?”

  He met her gaze.

  “I’m not bored.”

  Her ears warmed faintly.

  “…good.”

  A comfortable silence settled between them.

  In the kitchen, Mom gnced into the living room.

  Saw the scene.

  Shook her head with a small smile but did not intervene.

  Later that evening, homework was reluctantly finished, Eri found herself curled on the couch again — this time with her head resting lightly against Alex’s shoulder instead of fully attacking him.

  Progress.

  Her tails draped over the armrest zily.

  Mira sat across from them, flipping through a book.

  “You’re calmer now,” Mira observed without looking up.

  Eri blinked. “…am I.”

  “Yes.”

  She thought about it.

  “…I think I am.”

  Mira nodded once. “Good.”

  Eri leaned slightly closer to Alex unconsciously.

  He didn’t comment.

  Didn’t stiffen.

  Didn’t tease.

  Just stayed.

  And in that simple steadiness, something inside her loosened.

  Not all the way.

  But enough.

  Tomorrow would come again.

  Another weekend.

  People.

  Noise.

  But tonight…

  Tonight, she was safe.

  And she had learned something important.

  Needing comfort didn’t make her weak.

  It just meant she trusted someone enough to ask for it.

  Even if that asking sometimes involved crawling across a bed at six in the morning.

  Her tails flicked lightly once.

  “…Alex.”

  “Yeah?”

  “…don’t tell anyone about the drool.”

  He snorted.

  “No promises.”

  She nudged him lightly with her head.

  And the house filled with quiet ughter.