Things were kind of hectic after Viktor came home. More strangers showed up with pens and stacks of paper, along with other strangers who carried shiny black things that flashed. They talked with Viktor, asking a lot of questions; I could tell by the way they ended their sentences. There was also a lot of flashing from those shiny black contraptions. I mostly slept at my boy's side or at his feet during these times. They were boring but at least I got to be with Viktor. Especially since I knew he would be leaving for another time to do one last skating competition before he stayed home when the weather got warm.

At least this time, I knew about how long he was going to be gone and I was right about it this time. I still couldn't quite tell what that long period had been, or what all the excitement had been about but things soon calmed down. We fell back into the routine I was used to. Viktor didn't go off earlier than I was used to, or for an extended period of time that I wasn't used to.

Then, that changed again.

I was taking a well-deserved nap after having gone on a walk with Valentina. It was starting to get cold, the leaves turning different colors, so I knew Viktor would be leaving soon to go do skating competition. My boy spent more and more of his time at the rink place when the weather did this.

Valentina's alarm woke me right up. I lifted my head, looking around for threats. When I saw nothing, I got up and went to find Valentina. Something was wrong! Her alarm didn't lessen or go away and I was afraid there was an intruder, or she was hurt somehow.

When I finally found her, she was pacing in the living room, talking rapidly with her phone held up to her face. Though, sometimes she would pause. I wasn't sure why.

"How bad is it?" she asked, pressing her hand to her forehead. "…he what?" Her voice was quiet but strained. Her worry and anxiety intensified so much I barked, then whined, shifting on my paws. I didn't understand—what was wrong?

Valentina jumped, then looked over at me. Sadness shot through her and she came over to me, to pet my head.

"Yes, that was Makkachin," she said. I whined again, recognizing my name. I ducked away from her hand though, panting and pacing, now anxious myself. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. Valentina seemed fine, yet her emotions were all but.

"Oh, of course, of course," Valentina said suddenly, quickly. "I can stay as long as you need me, too. You need to be with Viktor right now."

I yipped at the sound of my boy's name. Was something wrong with my boy? I needed to go see him! Be with him!

Valentina came over to me again and patted my head. I let out a groan, her pets not comforting, even though I knew that's what Valentina was hoping it would be. I needed to know what was going on!

"It's no trouble," Valentina said. "Please keep me updated. Okay, yes. Alright, sounds good. Bye."

She pressed a button on the phone and brought it away from her face. She sat down, dropping her phone at her side, before pulling me into a hug. I sighed and licked her face in comfort, despite my own worry.

Anxiety and worry buzzed inside her as she buried her face in my neck. I was still very confused and worried by her continued worry.

I couldn't sit still after that. I paced around the house, panting. Valentina would sit for short periods of time before getting up and pacing with me. Her worry stayed steady and constant. Sadness would sometimes make its way through when she looked at me. When it was the usual time Viktor returned home, I went to sit by the door. When the time came and went, that's when I was sure that the something wrong had to do with Viktor. My anxiety only grew from that.

I pawed at the door, whining. When Valentina didn't respond to this by letting me out, I started barking. Where was my boy! Was he okay? Was he hurt? I had to go look for him!

Finally, she came over, but she didn't open the door. She pulled me away from it!

"Shh, shh," she cooed, but her voice was strained. "It's okay, Makka." Her voice did a weird wavy thing, and I could tell she didn't believe what she was saying. She knelt down in front of me. "Viktor—" She cut off her voice doing the weird wavy thing again. I barked. Yes, my boy! I wanted to see my boy!

"Makka," she said again, petting me firmly. "Viktor's not coming home tonight." I yipped. Yes, I wanted Viktor home! Valentina continued petting me, her sadness growing the longer she looked at me. "He's not coming home, Makka-girl."

I groaned. She had used that negative word before the word "home." No home?

I finally sat down, whining. My boy wasn't coming home?

Valentina nodded, tears forming in her eyes as she shifted to sit down on the floor with me. "Yeah, I'm sorry, Makka." She ruffled my ears, trying for a smile but it was still very sad.

I whined again, leaning forward and licking her cheek. She hugged me, rubbing my sides.

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

I slept fitfully next to Valentina on the sofa in the living room. I had wanted to stay awake until my boy returned home, but I got too tired and my eyes closed. When Valentina got another call, her spike in emotions woke me up. I did not know what time it was.

I lifted my head and watched her, anxiously. Was this about my boy again?

Her own anxiety, which had been dampened by weariness and sleep, came back sharply. But after a moment of silence, her worry was softened by relief. There was still an undercurrent of anxiety, but her strongest worry seemed to dissipate.

"That's good to hear," she said quietly. "How long will he be in the hospital?" Another pause. "Oh, that's longer than I expected, but it makes sense." She glanced at me, reaching out to pat my head. "Will Makka be able to visit?" She paused again and whatever happened, she didn't like. "I see. That makes sense, though."

Another pause. Valentina continued to pet my head, but I could tell she wasn't truly paying attention to me. I was getting sleepy again, and I hadn't heard my boy's name. I was sure Valentina was talking about him but I could hardly keep my eyes open since I hadn't slept well.

I fell asleep again, but it only seemed like a short time later that Valentina woke me up again. We went for a walk, and I realized my bladder was bursting. I'm not sure how she'd had a good sense for it, but I appreciated the walk, and to stretch my legs.

My boy was still not home, though, and no amount of walking or playing tug would make me not worry.

When we went back inside, she refilled my water dish and gave me some dry food. And I realized I was actually quite thirsty and hungry. But once my stomach was full again, I found my worry for my boy grow.

Where was he? And why wasn't he home yet?

Before I could up to Viktor's room and take a nap on his bed, Valentina came over to me. She had her coat on, her keys jingling in her hand. She petted my head, giving me a smile, but I could tell she was stressed—worried and sad.

"I have to go," she said. "Mom will be home, soon, though, okay?"

I whined. I understood "go" and "Mom" and "home," but what about my boy?

"I know." Valentina gave me a firm pat. "I'll see you later, Makkachin." She kneeled to give me a brief hug before leaving. I don't think my humans had ever left me alone before, and I didn't understand.

I stared at the door and whined. That usually got humans' attention. This time, it didn't work, though. I resorted to barking, then, because that was louder. But when no one responded, I groaned and laid down on the floor, near the front door. Valentina had said something about Mom, maybe that meant she would be home soon?

Like I had thought, only Mom came home. She smelled like sharp, cleaning chemicals. There were hints of my boy, so at least I knew she had been with him. I still couldn't really tell if he was okay, though, and that made me worried.

She was stressed like Valentina, but it felt like it was 100 times stronger. She hugged me as soon as she shut the door, and I could tell she was seeking comfort, so I sat down too, despite my worry for my boy. I found humans often sought comfort from me. Something about hugging and petting me seemed to help their emotions.

Several light and dark cycles went by. There were brief periods where I would be left alone and then either Mom or Dad would come home. They would take more for walks, but neither of us were really into it. They would feed me and eat something of their own. I did not beg for a taste of their food—I missed my boy.

Sometimes, they'd take a bath but it didn't get rid of the sharp chemical smells. Then they would leave again. If I wasn't tired, I would pace the house, sometimes barking because I was anxious and couldn't go outside to run off my anxiety. If I was tired, I curled up on my boy's bed, but his scent was getting stale. Even the scent on his pillow.

Then, finally, my boy came home.

As Dad was leaving, he patted my head and gave me one of those stress smiles.

"Vitya's coming home, Makka," he said. There was some excitement in his voice, but I could still feel the immense worry rolling inside him.

I boofed at my boy's name. I didn't hear the negative word, so did that mean I would finally get to see my boy?!

Dad gave a small laugh. "That's right. We're excited, too. Be a good dog. We'll be back in no time."

I sat down, boofing again. The stress in Dad's smile lessened a little. He gave me one last pat.

"Good girl," he said before turning and leaving.

Yes, I was a good dog.

I waited until I heard the car again. My tail began wagging out of excitement to see my boy, but I tried to keep my butt on the ground. I was a good dog.

Dad entered first, blocking my view. He held up a hand and said in a firm voice, "Stay, Makka. Stay."

I whined, my tail wagging harder, but tried to keep where I was. Tried to be a good dog.

Dad waited a moment before stepping aside and opening the door wider. There was my boy! I stood up, excitement overwhelming me.

"Makka!" Mom and Dad yelled. Mom, who was standing next to Viktor, held up her hand.

I froze, but shifted on all four of my paws. I boofed.

"Stay, Makka," Mom said in a firm voice.

I whined but laid flat on my belly, then. My tail wouldn't stop wagging, but I could hardly control it. I was excited to see my boy!

"I'm fine," Viktor complained, his voice strained with stress. Finally, getting to see my boy, I could tell something was different, wrong.

His emotions were a confusing mix of anger, sadness, resentment, bitterness. I had never felt such strong, negative emotions in my boy before. Then I saw that he had white cloth wrapped around his head. His usually long hair was not chopped short. And there was a dull, throbbing pain coming from the right side of his head.

I approached slowly, crawling on my belly, whining, so the humans would take pity on me. Viktor smiled down at me but there was stress in it, like Mom and Dad's, and tears formed in his eyes.

"Hey, Makka," he said, his voice strained. He slowly knelt down and ruffled my ears. I slowly sat up and he hugged me. My tail continued to wag, but the negative emotions coming off my boy made me worried. I whined again. Viktor hugged me tighter.

That night, as Dad and my boy came out of the bathroom, annoyance and frustration rolling off my boy, I followed them to Viktor's bedroom. But Dad stopped me and told me to Stay. I was starting to dislike that command. I was a good dog, though, so I stayed as Dad closed the door. I laid down again, waiting. Viktor didn't always listen to Dad, so maybe I would be let in soon.

It wasn't long until the door opened. I stood up, my tail wagging at getting to be with my boy again, but Dad held up his hand and told me to Stay again!

"Dad, it's fine," Viktor snapped.

Dad looked back at Viktor, standing in the doorway, preventing me from being with my boy.

"I don't want her to jostle you too much," Dad said in a stern voice that I learned meant to not argue with him.

Viktor argued with him. "Allow me this one comfort. Please." There was pain in Viktor's voice, a mournful yet angry sadness, and I whined, just wanting to comfort my boy. "I'll be careful. I'm not a child anymore."

Dad sighed heavily, looking down at me. Indecisiveness swirled inside him for a second before it turned into resignation. He stepped aside and held the door wider. I bolted in, afraid he might change his mind, and approached Viktor's bed.

My boy was slightly propped up with a bunch of pillows against the wall. His head was still throbbing dully, still wrapped in that white cloth.

Viktor smiled as I came up to him and he held out his hand to pet me. His smile was a strange mix of happy and sad. I could tell he was happy to have me there but what he was feeling now was similar to how he felt when he came home without a metal. He needed comfort.

I licked his hand before jumping up on the bed.

"Makkachin!" Dad exclaimed. I froze and looked to him, still in the door.

"Dad, it's fine," Viktor said, petting my side, as his irritation returned.

"Viktor—" Dad started in that same stern tone.

"I just want to go to sleep now," Viktor interrupted. His anger and sadness was beginning to fill him up.

Dad paused, then, "Alright. Good night, Vitya."

Viktor only responded with a grunt.

Dad turned off the lights and pulled the door closed, leaving it slightly ajar. I carefully navigated my way around the bed, going to Viktor's other side, turning around, and lying my head down on my boy's stomach. My boy started to pet me again.

But Viktor's hand stilled on my back abruptly. I felt his sadness and anger break and then my boy was crying. He pulled one of the pillows from behind him and hugged it tightly. Then he threw it to the ground in a burst of anger.

"Dammit!" His voice was still quiet but strained. I could feel how upset he still was. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." Then he winced and reached up to press his fingertips to his forehead. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

I whined and crept closer to his face, carefully licking away some of his tears, avoiding the white cloth, which smelled like chemicals. A sob burst from my boy's throat when I did this, and he hugged me tighter than he'd ever hugged me before. My boy continued to cry into my neck until he eventually fell asleep. I fell asleep soon after.

Viktor wasn't the same for a while after that. He didn't go off to do skating competition, which confused me. He didn't even leave the house to do school or ballet or even regular skating. I wanted to be happy to spend so much time with my boy but how could I enjoy this time when he was so clearly miserable? I didn't want my boy to be unhappy, and if going away to do ballet and skating made him happy, then I would let him go. His happiness made me happy.

That same anger and sadness he'd come back with that one night remained with him. Sometimes it'd be broken up by bouts of frustration. Often times, it would build until Viktor couldn't hold back the wave anymore and he'd either scream or cry. Sometimes he would do both. But it was always when no one else was around. I let him hug me as tight as he wanted, let him cry into my neck then licked his tears off his face if I could.

Eventually, the white cloth came off around his head. To my surprised, all his hair on his right side had been cut and shaved down. The left side had been cut short, but not shaved. There was also a strange line on the right side of his head, and I could never figure out what the line meant. It was right where the pain was coming from, though.

My boy often sat in the living room a lot, watching the television. When the period of time came that I would usually watch television with Valentina, Viktor turned on the television. We'd watch other people do skating, though if Viktor wasn't skating, I didn't see the point of watching others. Also, watching others seemed to worsen my boy's mood—a dark mixture of anger and sadness. If it hurt him, why did he watch it?

Valentina was there when Mom and Dad were doing work. When Viktor took me out for a walk, she would join. For some reason, Viktor didn't like her being there. I couldn't tell why because he had never shown any animosity toward Valentina until now. He and Mom had an argument about it. I only knew because I recognized her name.

"Why do you have her come over?" Viktor asked, irritation buzzing inside him. They were at the table eating breakfast. Dad had already left to do work.

I was lying at Viktor's side.

"Viktor," Mom's voice was stern and disapproving. "You know she's Makka's dog-sitter." I lifted my head at my name.

"You think I can't take care of my own dog just because I'm injured?" Viktor asked in a biting tone.

Mom was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her tone was gentle, "I know you're angry, Vitya, but I don't like it when you take it out on me. Or your Dad. It's just for this season. You'll be back skating in no time."

"So, in the meantime you're going to treat me like an invalid?" I could tell Viktor immediately regretted his words as soon as he said them, and that Mom was hurt by them, but neither he nor Mom said anything else after that. They just sat in awkward silence.

One day, Viktor had fallen asleep on the sofa, watching other people do skating competition. He had stretched out along the sofa, propping himself up with pillows like that first night. Valentina was nowhere to be seen, so I had hopped up with him, sitting next to him, resting my head on his stomach. It was a little tight, but I enjoyed being close to my boy. And I could tell he enjoyed having me close to him.

I was dozing when I felt Valentina's energy. I lifted my head and looked to see her staring at us. She was frowning with disapproval. I got ready for her to tell me to get down but after a moment of indecisiveness, her disapproval disappeared and she sighed. Instead of telling me to get down in a tone that indicated I had been a bad dog, she came up to me and petted my head before giving Viktor a fond, but sad look.

I rested my head back down on Viktor's stomach and closed my eyes for my own nap.

Soon, Viktor's hair had grown out enough to cover that strange line, but Viktor often reached up to trace it. That area of his head also didn't have that throbbing pain anymore. He was also consistently leaving the house again.

The first couple of times, I didn't think it was for school, ballet, or skating. Mostly because he didn't spend nearly as long away from the house, and when he came back, he smelled of those sharp chemicals. But the swirl of anger and sadness seemed smaller, less potent. So even though I missed him when he was gone, I was glad that whatever he was doing was helping him feel better.

His had had fully grown out now, but Viktor didn't let it get nearly as long as he'd had it before. Instead, he'd kept the right side short, but long enough to cover the line on his head, and the left side long enough to cover his left eye. I thought it a little strange and it looked lopsided, but my boy seemed to like it.

Eventually, he started going on walks without Valentina there. His heart felt lighter, somehow. Those negative emotions weren't weighing him down, swirling inside his chest. I could feel hope start to grow inside him as he continued with what he was doing away from the house.

There was a dip in his emotions, though. That swirl of anger and sadness grew once more when we visited the rink. He didn't do skating like he usually did when we visited, and even though he smiled for his friends, it didn't meet his eyes. The longer we stayed, sitting on the benches next to the rink, the more those dark emotions grew. I was confused, if only because any other time we were here, my boy always felt the exact opposite: elated and excited and exhilarated, happy. When we left, Viktor felt relieved and those negative emotions once again weakened.

Viktor still watched other people do competitive skating on the television but he didn't feel that same bitterness or resentment he'd felt when he'd first watched, but hadn't gone to do skating competition. In fact, the hope grew in his chest, and so did a strong sense of determination.

Over time, Viktor's absences from the house grew longer. Soon enough, as the weather grew warmer once again, we were back to a schedule I was used to. Viktor would spend a lot of time doing ballet or skating. My boy didn't do school, so when he wasn't doing ballet or skating, we'd visit the park and run along a path before I got to play with other dogs while Viktor did jumps on the bench nearby. Then he'd spend some time playing with me before we headed back to the car.

The best part was that all of the dark feelings Viktor had harbored after the first night he'd come home with that pain on the side of his head had completely disappeared. His hope and determination grew each day, and I could tell when he was going to go do skating because he would grow excited and happy, he'd practically vibrate with it. I also got a lot more pets and belly rubs.

The weather began turning cold again and I could tell from my boy's emotions that he would be going to do skating competitions once again. I was sad that he would be leaving home, but happy that he was so happy. Skating brought him such pure joy and I would do anything to make sure he kept that joy.

The night before he was going to leave for the first of the ten times he left during this period, my boy couldn't sleep. I could feel anxiety begin to grow inside him as he stared at his ceiling in the dark. His heartbeat picked up and I lifted my head, wondering if there was danger. I was lying next to him, on his bed. I had had my head on his stomach but his anxiety was making me nervous.

Finally, he sat up, back against the wall but didn't turn on the small light next to his bed. My boy looked at me before taking my face into his hands and ruffling my ears and cooing unintelligible things at me. Then he sighed and sat back, taking his hands away from my face. I crept forward, resting my head in his lap. He reached up to begin petting me and I closed my eyes.

"I'm nervous, Makka," he said into the darkness. Fear began to creep into him and I opened my eyes again. "I'm…I'm afraid I'll get injured again. I'm afraid I won't even qualify for the Grand Prix Finals. Or win any more medals. What if…what if my career is over?" I felt the fear and anxiety break inside him and quickly sat up, licking up the tears that were now streaming down his face. He put his arms around me.

"I wish you could come with me, Makka-girl," he mumbled, sniffling. Then he pulled away and wiped at his face with his hands before ruffling my ears again. "But I know you'll be watching, won't you?" I barked, making Viktor laugh quietly before he said in a whisper, "Shh, Shh, Makka-girl. We can't wake Mom and Dad." I yipped and my boy laughed quietly again, pulling me into him.

I sighed and closed my eyes, enjoying his warmth and love, preparing myself for his departure.

We laid down again but anxiety was still humming inside him. He tossed and turned in the bed, which made it uncomfortable to lie in. Eventually, I groaned and hopped off the bed.

"Sorry, Makka-girl," he said, sitting up and patting my head. I yawned in response, which made him laugh. It was loud and he quickly covered his mouth with both hands. He waited for something, hands still over his mouth. Then my boy sighed and pulled his hand away from his mouth, petting me.

"I'll try to lie still," he said, shifting and patting the bed. I hopped back up, wagging. My boy put his arm around me and I laid down next to him. He petted my back, hugging me tightly. I licked his nose, and he wrinkled it, laughing before hugging me again.

"Aww, I love you too, Makkachin," he said.

He was still anxious, but was able to lie still enough it didn't bother me anymore. Eventually, exhaustion swept through him and his breathing slowed. I would miss him when he left.

Things didn't stop changing after that. Viktor did the Olympics again, after the period of his usual ten competitions. I only wished I had an idea when this Olympics thing occurred because it didn't seem consistent. At least not as consistent as the other skating competitions my boy went off to. Still, I was glad to know this second time the rough timeline my boy would be away, and that he would return. I still hated that he had to leave earlier than usual, and be gone longer, but I was so happy that he was happy.

To my delight, my boy won gold at the Olympics. The metal he brought home was different than the doughnut-shaped one. It was weird and wavy, and bigger. But Viktor was ecstatic and that's all that mattered to me.

This time, when Viktor cried, it was out of pure joy. I had never felt him feel so happy before.

Once that period of his coming and going to do skating competition was over, an even bigger change occurred: My boy and I moved out of the house.

As the weather grew warm, Viktor started packing his things up in big, brown boxes. He, Mom, and Dad had a lot of conversations at the table where they ate. I heard skating and rink and school get brought up a lot during these conversations.

Then one day, Mom, and Dad packed all those boxes into a new car I hadn't ever seen before. I was confused at first because I was unsure if I was going or not. The energy in the air felt a lot like when Viktor went off to do skating competitions: They were all nervous. Mom and Dad had a tinge of sadness. Viktor had the same sadness but also excitement and eagerness.

When Valentina didn't show up, my confusion only worsened and I started to get anxious. Then I remembered that the day Viktor came home from his tenth time doing skating competitions, she had been extremely sad. She had even cried when she said goodbye to me, which had been strange. But maybe this was the reason why? Her goodbye had felt final, somehow. Was I not going to see her again?

I'd rolled around in the grass as Viktor, Mom, and Dad had filled the car with those boxes. Occasionally, one of them would pick up the ball I dropped at their feet as they walked back and forth between the house and car, and throw it for me. It did help with my anxious energy, but when I tired of that, I laid down near the front door like a good dog. I was used to Viktor going somewhere I couldn't, but all those brown boxes did worry me.

Dad got into the new car, the one with all the boxes. Mom got into the car I was used to. I was still waiting for Valentina to show up.

Then my boy looked over at me and gave me a bright smile. "Makka!" he called, patting his leg. I lifted my head. Did that mean I was going? My boy nodded. "Come on, Makka-girl!"

My heart soared in my chest and I leapt from the porch and bounded to Viktor's side, doing a full-body wag. Viktor petted me and called me a good dog before opening the door to the backseat. I was disappointed I wasn't going to be a front-seat dog, but there was a box sitting in the seat that was padded like my dog bed. I jumped up easily into it and sat down. It was comfy and soft enough that I didn't mind being a backseat dog. Plus, it was high enough that I could see out the window, and stick my nose out the window if it was rolled down.

My boy sat in the front seat in front of me. I turned toward the window, which was now cracked and I stuck my nose to it, loving being able to smell everything that passed by.

Both cars parked in front of a tall building with a lot of windows. Then Viktor, Mom, and Dad began taking the brown boxes out of the car and I wondered why they'd go to all that trouble of putting them into the car just to take the boxes out again. Nonetheless, I stayed at Viktor's side. Some part of me was afraid that at any moment Mom and Dad would realize I needed to go home, or that after they were done moving the boxes, I would go home with Mom and Dad. So, I wanted to spend as much time with my boy as possible, just in case that happened.

We stood in a giant metal box that could fit a bunch of humans, and it moved! The box made a small bell sound and the doors slid open but I couldn't tell what was opening them. We walked down a long hall with several doors along them. It smelled of a strange mix of many humans, other dogs, and cats! Gross!

Then we got a certain door—I couldn't tell how they knew it was their door—and opened it up. It was more bare inside than our home but there was a sofa and some chairs, and little tables already set up inside. I bounded past the humans and began to explore.

It was also much smaller. There was a small kitchen that opened up to a larger room against some big windows. There was a short hallway, a small bathroom, and a bedroom that already had a bed, a small table beside the bed, and a desk inside it.

"Makka!" I heard my boy call. I went to that first door we walked through. "Do you want to come down or stay here?"

I wasn't sure what he was asking, especially since he had said "come" and "stay," so I went up to him. He took that as some answer to his question and we left the small place I would soon learn was called an apartment.

They repeated this a few times: Taking some boxes, getting in the large metal box, going down the hall, and setting them down in the apartment until all the boxes were in the apartment. At one point, Viktor told me I could stay in the apartment, but the way he said stay didn't sound like a command, so I kept going back and forth with them. This made Viktor pat my head and laugh for some reason. I didn't mind, I liked the sound of my boy's laughter and I loved it when he petted me, of course.

When there were no more boxes to take up, the three of them stood beside the car and talked and hugged. The sadness in Mom and Dad grew. I could also feel their pride and happiness. It was a very strange combination to me but I'd learned by now that humans often felt conflicting emotions. Even if it confused me.

"Say bye to Mom and Dad, Makka," Viktor said. I turned to them, not sure what Viktor wanted me to do, but he'd said their names. Dad gave me a firm pat on my head. Mom kneeled down in front of me and ruffled my ears, kissing my forehead.

"I'll miss you, Makka," she cooed. "You be a good dog and take care of Vitya, okay?" I boofed, which caused Mom and smile.

Mom and Dad then got into the old car and drove off. Viktor watched them go, a wave of sadness and anxiety momentarily filling him. Then we headed back inside. My boy immediately began unpacking the boxes. I followed him around for a little while until I was tired. Then I laid down in the large room, where all the boxes were, and watched as Viktor continued unpacking. Sometimes he'd throw my toys at me and I'd chew on them for a little bit.

Over a short time, the boxes were emptied and disappeared. The apartment began to feel more like a home. It was weird to not live with Mom and Dad anymore but I did like this new place. Viktor now left to do ballet, skating, and something he called class. It took me a long time to figure out his schedule for class, though. It seemed to change from day to day, though then it would cycle back to the same times at some point. What was nice about this new routine, though, was the fact that it felt like I got to spend a bit more time with my boy.

He let me up on his now bigger bed at night. He fed and walked me in the morning. In the middle of the day, Viktor came back from either ballet, skating, or class and we would go for a walk, then Viktor would eat and leave again. In the evening, I got dinner when Viktor did, we'd go for a walk, and then we relaxed on the sofa. Sometimes Viktor would open a weird slim, shiny thing that had a screen like the television but had a bunch of extra buttons. I would later learn it was called a laptop. Other times we'd watch a bigger, thinner television. Sometimes Viktor would read big, heavy books and write stuff down on lined paper, and sometimes he'd have a book that had no lines, which he drew on with a pencil.

Like when he was younger, there were times when Viktor had more time during the day. On these days, we took long walks, sometimes we jogged or ran, around this new place that had a bunch of buildings, a ton of new and exciting smells, and a lot more people and cars than I'd ever seen before. It was amazing and wonderful.

I also got to visit my boy's rink more often. It wasn't a whole lot more than when we lived with Mom and Dad, but it was certainly more frequent. He still went off to do skating competition when the weather grew cold, and a new person came to Viktor's apartment to feed me and take me on walks. Her name was Iskra and she was just as loving and sweet as Valentina was, but I did miss Valentina. I wondered why she couldn't still watch me when my boy left.

This new routine in this new place went on for a long while. But, of course, with Viktor, things changed yet again. Except, the thing that changed was different than all the time before: it was a slow change, which made it less evident to me.

The more I grew older and the more I stayed with Viktor, I came to learn that not all the changes in our lives were outside, physical things, like when Viktor first went away for skating competition or when he had gone off to the Olympics the first time or when he had that pain on the side of his head. Sometimes changes happened inside of people, like how Viktor's emotions had changed drastically when he wasn't able to go do skating competition.

I was used to those kinds of emotional changes—humans had so many emotions. Sometimes they changed so fast, like during the period his head had hurt, and sometimes they were constant, like his love for me. So, it never occurred to me that humans could have slow emotional changes.

My boy liked to talk. He talked to me a lot when he'd first gotten me. I, of course, didn't understand most of it but I could recognize the words he said most often. Slowly, I put the action to the word. He said skating the most, and that was the first word I learned the action to. There was also the word "music" and a longer word, "choreograph." Those two words took longer; music came before choreograph.

When he talked, I could feel the excitement bubbling inside him. He would smile a lot and his hands would move really fast, he would look back and forth between me and the lined paper (though this soon turned into his laptop) in front of him. Sometimes he would have both, sometimes the lined paper would be replaced with blank paper that he'd draw on. Sometimes he would even show me moving pictures of someone else doing skating, or what he was drawing on the blank paper.

He didn't always feel only excited or happy. There were times he would get more serious and somber. I could still feel his excitement but it was often mixed with many other emotions: confusion, a sudden burst of happiness, annoyance, even sadness or anger on occasion. It was all very confusing to me, especially when he could go through these emotions in a very short period of time. But he always talked.

Then one day, I realized he'd stopped talking to me.

his injury actually changed drastically lol bc i was talking to my friend i dragged into the yoi fandom 6 yrs late and came up with this new idea. i wrote this in an afternoon and only did the bare minimum copy-editing beta-ing, so,,,go easy on me i guess lol it's been a while since i've written like a dog and i did do some research abt head injuries, but didn't go into too much depth. suffice to say tho, he hit his head and cut it open, but only got a linear fracture on his skull; nothing too serious.

as always, i hope you enjoyed! comments are appreciated!

thank you for reading,
TheBrightestNight