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Satine wakes naturally from a restful night’s sleep with a smile on her face, feeling content. She stretches toward Christian on instinct, frowning and opening her eyes when she finds his side of the bed empty, the sheets cool. Where has he gone? Satine isn’t one for early rising and Christian likes to linger in bed most mornings and just hold her as she sleeps. What could be more important than cuddling me? Satine thinks with a slight pout as she rises from the bed.
The room is chilly compared to being under the covers so she steps into her slippers and quickly pulls on her robe, tying it around herself. Satine is just starting to push open the bedroom door when she hears Christian talking to someone and pauses instead to listen. It’s most likely their cat, Bijou, otherwise Satine wouldn’t eavesdrop. But Christian and Bijou are so sweet together that she can’t help but spy on them whenever she gets the chance.
Satine peers through the crack between the door and the frame and sees Christian lying on his stomach on the apartment floor with Bijou beside him. The cat is chattering excitedly, staring intently at the window where a birdfeeder is affixed to the glass; Bijou’s Christmas present from Christian. Inside, two tiny brown birds are feasting on seeds. It’s now that Satine’s mind wakes more fully and she remembers that mornings spent watching the bird feeder has become something of a routine for Christian and their cat over the past few weeks.
“What do you think?” Christian asks, flipping through the pages of a book he has open on the floor between them both. Satine squints—trying to bring the pages of the book into sharper focus—but it’s too far away to see what he’s reading. From here the best she can tell is that the book has pictures in it. Christian has never read a picture book to Bijou before—though this seems to be less reading and more perusing—and Satine wonders why he’s decided to start now.
Bijou chirps, her tail swishing excitedly back and forth, ruffling the pages of the book and repeatedly hitting Christian in the face.
“No, perhaps not,” Christian murmurs, leaning slightly away but otherwise unfazed by Bijou’s tail. He turns a few pages, looking between the birds and the book. “No, that doesn’t seem to be them either.”
Bijou taps Christian’s arm with her paw, her eyes never leaving the window.
“Yes, I see them,” Christian tells Bijou, nodding at the birds in the feeder. “It’s very exciting, isn’t it?” He asks before returning to his book once more.
Bijou taps him again, more insistently this time. She uses her claws, her nails momentarily getting caught in Christian’s shirt.
“I’m trying,” Christian says, turning pages more quickly.
Giving up on Christian, Bijou gives the birds her full attention. She drops into a crouch, rear end wiggling, preparing to pounce.
“I can’t quite…” Christian mutters to himself. “Does this one look right?” He turns the book toward Bijou once more. “I think they might be too red. Or perhaps—”
Ignoring Christian completely, Bijou leaps onto the windowsill and smacks the panes with her front paws. The birds take off in a flurry of feathers. Bijou turns to face Christian, her chin lifted proudly and her tail sticking straight up, looking incredibly pleased with herself.
“Oh…” Christian says, sounding disappointed for some reason. “Never mind, then.”
“What’s going on in here?” Satine asks as she walks into the room, unable to hide her curiosity any longer.
“Mrow!” Bijou exclaims excitedly. She leaps down from the window to run to Satine, using Christian’s back as a landing pad. He lets out a small grunt upon Bijou’s impact.
“Good morning,” Christian says, twisting onto his side and propping himself up by his elbow to see Satine.
“Good morning,” Satine echoes. She tries to go to Christian and nearly trips.
“Mrow! Mrrr-ow!” Bijou demands—insisting on Satine greeting her first—twining around and around Satine’s ankles.
“Yes, I saw you,” Satine says to the cat, bending down to scratch the top of her head. “You were very impressive, scaring off those birds like that. I’m quite certain they thought a tigress was after them. Or perhaps a lioness.”
Bijou preens, leaning into the attention and purring contentedly.
“So fierce,” Satine continues. “Those birds didn’t stand a chance, did they?”
“Oh is that what she wants?” Christian asks, studying how Bijou responds to Satine’s encouragement and compliments.
Satine doesn’t fully understand the question. “She does love the attention,” Satine answers him and hopes that’s good enough, shaking her head affectionately.
Another bird lands in the feeder—a robin this time—and Bijou chirps excitedly, ducking away from Satine’s hand and lowering herself to the ground, creeping across the floor as she stalks her prey.
“That makes two of us,” Christian says, looking up at Satine with hopeful eyes.
Satine laughs, making her way over to Christian but choosing to sit on the edge of the sofa rather than on the floor. “Good morning, darling,” Satine leans over and gives Christian the kiss he so clearly wants.
“Good morning,” he says when Satine pulls back, his cheeks flushed pink.
“What were you two talking about? And what’s this?” Satine asks. She places a finger in the book to mark Christian’s page and gently shuts it so she can see the cover. “I didn’t know you were into bird watching,” she remarks, trying to hide the extent of her surprise.
For some reason Satine doesn’t understand, Christian blushes a deeper shade of red. “I’m not really,” he mumbles. “It was just something I was trying. It was sort of stupid.”
Satine frowns. “Why do you say that?”
Christian pulls himself to a sitting position across from her, ducking his head as he shuts the book, setting it aside as he starts to fidget with his hands. “After I set up the feeder, Bijou has been talking to me nonstop in the mornings. I knew she wanted something from me but I couldn’t figure out what it was. I thought maybe she wanted me to talk to her about the birds but I don’t know anything about them so I just kept saying things like ‘that one is very pretty’ or ‘I’ve never seen a bird so blue before.’ But Bijou just meowed more and more and I thought I was annoying her.”
Satine shakes her head, gently lifting Christian’s chin until his eyes meet hers. “You can’t have been. If she were really annoyed she would have bitten you.”
The corner of Christian’s mouth turns up into a small smile. “That’s true. But I was still worried I wasn’t making her happy so I got a book for identifying birds from the library because I know how bad it feels when…well, when you really care about something and your family…” Christian trails off, his hands twisting anxiously in his lap, his gaze returning to the floor once more. The end of his unfinished sentence hangs between them both.
Before Satine can respond Christian continues, “I just wanted Bijou to know I love her and I support her interests. But apparently all she wanted was compliments,” he says with a sheepish smile, running an agitated hand through his hair, making it stand on end.
The warmth Satine was feeling toward Christian and how deeply he clearly cares for Bijou is immediately replaced by a nearly overwhelming onslaught of anger toward Christian’s family. She doesn’t understand how they could have been fortunate enough to have someone so sweet in their lives and treat him so badly. It’s true that Christian could ramble for hours about music if Satine didn’t stop him and sometimes they have other things they have to do, but it isn’t difficult to let Christian speak as often as they have time for it. Besides, Satine enjoys hearing Christian’s thoughts and ideas, his hopes and dreams but also his fears and insecurities, whatever is on his mind and the song that’s currently stuck in his head and anything else he feels inclined to share.
All Christian really wants in those moments is for someone to listen to what he has to say and that’s so easy to do it’s almost laughable. Satine doesn’t understand why his family acted like it was such a burden but she’s more than happy to be the recipient of all of his rambles, to show Christian with her actions the way he deserves to be treated.
Satine knows she’s supposed to respond now that Christian is done explaining, but the words won’t come. All she can do is stare, awestruck and in love with her sweet boy who cares so deeply for others—including their cat—and think: you’re so perfect. How are you real? How are you mine?
To Satine’s dismay, Christian’s blush deepens at her lack of response and he ducks his head, ashamed. “I told you it was stupid,” he mumbles. “Besides, it didn’t work at all.”
“I don’t think it was stupid,” Satine says quickly, reaching over and slipping her hand into Christian’s, glad she’s managed to find her voice once more. She wishes she was better at putting her feelings into words so she could reassure Christian the way he so clearly needs. “Why do you say it didn’t work?”
“I never successfully identified any birds,” Christian explains. “Every time one sat still long enough for me to get a good look at it, Bijou would—”
Behind them, Bijou pounces once more, strutting gleefully back and forth along the windowsill after the robin has flown off in terror.
“—do that,” Christian concludes with a rueful smile.
Satine squeezes his hand. “I’m sure she appreciates the effort,” she promises Christian. “She loves spending time with you, even if she doesn’t always show it. She may be the tiniest bit spoiled,” Satine admits somewhat reluctantly, loathe to say so much as one uncomplimentary thing about their otherwise positively perfect cat, “but she wouldn’t ask you to join her in the mornings if she didn’t want you here. Cats are generally rather intolerant of people and behaviors they dislike.”
Christian looks up, his expression brightening. “You think so?”
“I know so.” Satine leans over to kiss him, climbing into Christian’s lap when she feels him smiling against her lips.
They’re interrupted by the feel of a small, soft paw batting them both on the cheeks.
“You just have to be the center of attention, don’t you?” Satine asks with a sigh of faux annoyance, unable to keep herself from smiling down at Bijou who has settled onto her lap and is staring back and forth between herself and Christian.
“You did an excellent job going after that last bird,” Christian compliments, trying what he’s learned from Satine.
Bijou leans into his chest, enjoying Christian petting her.
“You have the best papa in the whole entire world,” Satine informs Bijou when the cat turns back to her once more. “I hope you know that. Not everyone is half so lucky.” Satine scratches Bijou under the chin and she purrs louder. “But he has feelings too, you know. You ought to thank him sometimes.”
Bijou turns to face Christian, studying him intently. Then she braces her paws on Christian’s shoulders so she can stand on her back legs and headbutt him gently in the nose, purring all the while.
“You’re most welcome,” Christian whispers, kissing the top of Bijou’s head. “You deserve it,” Christian says and Satine marvels once more that she’s managed to find someone who loves those in his life as easily and naturally as breathing. Bijou, of course, is impossible not to love, but that’s far from true about Satine and yet Christian loves them both so much.
Another bird lands in the feeder and Bijou darts off once more, deciding that’s far more interesting to her than her parents.
Satine impulsively wraps Christian up in a hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs against his shoulder.
“What for?” Christian asks, even as his arms come around her, holding her close.
“Oh, you know.” Satine squeezes him a little bit tighter. “Pretty much everything.” Satine kisses the underside of his jaw before burying her face in the side of his throat, breathing him in. Christian’s embrace feels like comfort. It feels like home. “Bijou isn’t the only lucky one here,” she admits, feeling her own face heat and glad she can avoid looking Christian in the eye when she says such vulnerable things.
“I know. I’m so lucky to have found you.” Christian kisses the top of her head.
Satine pulls back, scowling at him. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it.”
Christian laughs and tries to kiss her but he’s thwarted by a yawn Satine is unable to stifle. “Coffee time?” Christian guesses.
Satine hides her face in his neck once more, embarrassed. “Yes, please,” she hums.
She is well aware that she’ll have to stand up in order for Christian to go make coffee but she’s too comfortable here. Christian surprises her by managing to lift her into his arms and get to his feet in one fluid motion and Satine lets out a squeak, tightening her arms around his neck. “To the kitchen we go,” Christian declares.
“Wait,” Satine says as they pass Christian’s record player. “We need music,” she reminds him, leaning precariously toward the table and sifting through the new records Christian got for Christmas, searching for one he hasn’t played yet. Christian tightens his grip on her waist, trying not to drop her. Satine holds one up and—after getting Christian’s nod of approval—sets it to play. “Tell me about it while you make breakfast?” Satine asks.
Christian’s whole entire face lights up. “I’d love to!” He says excitedly, carrying Satine to the kitchen so he can deposit her on the kitchen counter.
Soon their home is filled with the sounds of song, of Christian bustling around the kitchen and chatting animatedly about this album, of Bijou chirping at birds and triumphantly pacing the windowsill. In no time at all, Christian hands Satine a perfectly cooked French omelette. As he continues talking, his eyes are sparkling with joy in a way that makes it a requirement for Satine to kiss him senseless.
They only stop because Christian’s omelette starts to burn, the kitchen filling with smoke. Satine tenses the way she always does when she’s ruined something but Christian merely laughs and sets the pan with the ruined eggs in the sink before selecting another and trying again to make himself breakfast. Then Christian looks over at her and pauses mid-ramble. Satine makes a conscious effort to relax her shoulders, to stop chewing on her lip, to smile, but Christian picks up on something in her expression regardless.
He doesn’t step toward her, just slides his hand closer along the length of the counter, palm up, letting it be Satine’s choice when and if she closes the rest of the distance. Tentatively, Satine places her hand in Christian’s. He curls his fingers carefully around hers.
“Breakfast mishaps happen,” Christian says, his tone purposefully light. “We’re alright. You’re alright,” he emphasizes.
“I know that,” Satine says quickly.
Christian doesn’t seem to believe that she didn’t need to hear that but mercifully he doesn’t comment. He just stays there, waiting out a difficult moment with her.
Satine takes a deep breath, the senseless fear dissipating. When she nods, Christian steps closer, studying her face for any signs she should back off. When she gives him another nod, Christian gently takes her face in his hands and tilts downward, pressing his lips to her forehead. Then—without saying anything else—he returns to cooking his breakfast. Satine ducks her head to hide her smile.
Perhaps understanding isn’t always something that requires words.