Best Friends

When he crawled down under my covers, nestling as close to me as was physically possible, I was barely awake. His nose against my neck blew short puffs of warm exhalations over my shoulder, the inhalations chilling the same spot just briefly. His heartbeat against my ribs was speeded up, like a jackrabbit running from a wolf. I placed an arm around his shoulders, placed a kiss on the top of his head, placed a question of what the matter was. 'A nightmare,' he replied and I could feel his eyes closing, scrunching up at the remembrance of whatever drove him to my bed. I assured him he was safe now and that we should get some sleep, but regardless of my reassurances, his heartbeat wouldn't slow down. 'Hey,' I said, calm down, it's fine, nothing's gonna happen. All the same thing I always said when he came to me in the dead of night. Oh no, this was not the first time, or the second. More like the tenth, over a course of two or three months. It had started harmlessly enough with waking at night, all he needed being a kind word and being told to go back to sleep. Now he'd slip under my covers more often than not and not leave until the break of dawn, when the sun's light spilled over our feet sticking out from under the blankets.

When we were seated at the breakfast table, cereal bowls in front of us, I asked him what he'd dreamt about last night. He stirred his cornflakes, slowly chewing his mouthful and not answering the question. I reached for the milk package, but he forestalled me and passed it across the table. I told him I had to go to work today and that there were leftovers in the fridge, he could eat them for lunch if he pleased. Just microwave them on a plate. He nodded, still not making eye contact, and I didn't see his eyes properly until two days later.

When he told me he had those feelings for me, I didn't know what to say. For some reason, I hadn't seen it coming, even though there probably had been quite a few tell-tale signs. Looking at him now, I felt awful for what I had to tell him and I put it off for the longest time. Eventually I had to break the facts to him, even though he was looking at me with those hopeful eyes. Similar as though we maybe, there was still the race issue making it impossible. As I spoke, I had to watch his ears lower, his tail sink and cease its wagging, finally those brown eyes averting from my face, his posture that of defeat. I pat his hanging head, rubbing his ears between my fingers like he loved, but I knew things weren't the same anymore. Human as he may have seemed, he was still a dog and, in a world where same-sex relationships were still being frowned upon, who would accept a relationship between a young man and his canine companion?