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His index finger, calmly, angled itself towards himself.
His hand then drew closely to his chest, middle knuckle whitening as its respective finger folds into his palm and the rest lay flat against his shirt.
His index finger, now shaking, extends itself towards the orange cat standing in front of him.
What seemed to be a simple gesture was instead a complex—and overwhelming—declaration. It was a culmination of all the blood, sweat, tears, laughs, smiles, and regrets they've shared the moment their lives intertwined.
I like you, signed Greg.
For a moment, the dog's hand remained stationary before it dropped to his side. Rosy hues began to creep onto his face while cool sweat beaded across his temple; a sign of his heightened awareness regarding the vulnerability and weight of his words. Yet still, the determined glint in his eye, the glint that Petey had etched onto his mind since the first day they nearly tore each other to shreds, never faded. Greg stood fast, waiting for a response from the cat. It could be confusion, anger, indifference—anything. Anything that could at least recognize their feelings and experiences as real. If not that, then anything that will allow him to keep both Lil’ Petey and Petey in his life.
That would be more than enough , Greg thought.
Greg eyed the cat shortly after their shared silence went on for too long. The cat’s hairs stood up on their ends and he froze up with an unreadable expression.
Greg lifts his hands to snap at Petey, worried that maybe he just didn’t see him, but stills once he notices his tail swishing back and forth behind him in rapid succession. He draws back, feeling a slight sense of relief. He heard , he thought. With his chest now softly rising and falling, and with his hands calmly resting at his side, he waits.
Petey was about to blow his fucking lid. Well no, not really. He wasn’t mad, no, he wasn’t mad in the slightest. He was simply…frustrated. Nothing more, nothing less. Because who decides to confess their feelings in the middle of the night without any warning, without a heads up, and puts their entire relationship on the spot as if this wouldn’t change the trajectory of their lives the moment they parted from this encounter?
Greg always wore his heart on his sleeve and—at first—it seemed as if he acted without thinking beforehand, a stark contrast to the wittiness the dog portrayed when they were once at each other's throats. Petey quickly deemed this observation as, for lack of a better term, bullshit, seeing the way Greg handled Lil’ Petey with care, adoration, respect, and love. The tightening of his chest and quickening of his pulse upon seeing Greg act this way with his son was definitely the physical manifestation of the anger he felt being so confidently wrong about the dog. A genius’s lament. Nothing less, nothing more.
The silence quickly becomes nauseating and Petey begrudgingly decides to bite. His first attempt at skewing this conversation away from the nature of their relationship: feigning confusion.
“What’re you talking about?” Petey said, narrowing an eyebrow and crossing his arms. “You practically say that every time you decide to slobber all over everyone’s face instead of greeting them like, you know, a normal person? How’s this any different?”
Greg cocks his head to the side and frowns as if he were saying “Are you serious right now?” For a moment, Petey’s face falls a little upon seeing this gesture, admittedly now attuned to the dog’s varied expressions, but he quickly scrambles and commits to a new tactic: feigning anger.
“Haw haw. Now I get it. You think it’s SO funny trying to rile me up by saying something stupid. So called DO-GOODER getting a cheap thrill from what? Digging up dirt on the people around you? Taking advantage of people's feelings?”
Rats. That seemed too honest.
“I THINK YOU’RE SICK AND YOU’LL MAKE ME GO ABSOLUTELY NUTS YOU MUTT!” Petey raises his hands in the air frantically and his eyebrows furrowed to an incredulous degree, an act that Greg should immediately recognize as rage and exasperation. They both glance towards the stairs, only looking back after confirming the small kitten upstairs remained asleep. Petey quickly furrowed his eyebrows again once he met Greg’s gaze. That should sell it.
Instead, Greg rolls his eyes and narrows them at Petey, seeing through the facade being put on display. Petey’s breath hitches and his words catch in his throat, appalled by the dog’s intuition and determination. He tries to swallow them down, halting this conversation for an indefinitely long time (preferably forever) so he could walk away and fall into a ditch (preferably far away), but fails at doing so; for as if it had its own brain, his mouth begins moving with one final hurrah: feigning indifference.
“You got me. I know what you mean, I mean…you get what I mean?”
Petey chains the worst curse words he knows together in his mind. Greg is beginning to regret having this conversation.
Awkwardly, Petey shifts his weight onto his other foot and crosses his arms once more. Maybe there actually was a chance to salvage…whatever “this” was. They would go back to their normal routines, he would be cursed with the flaming pit in his stomach that would grow whenever Greg made eye-contact with him, Greg would gaze in his direction a little bit longer than he should, they’d care for Lil’ Petey all the same, and they’d be normal again. Although he curses Greg daily for exposing him to such a domestic lifestyle, and he curses himself for becoming so soft, Petey has to admit that he couldn’t ever imagine returning to the life he had before Greg and Lil’ Petey. If living with saddled feelings for eternity meant things would finally be stable as they were?
That would be more than enough , Petey thought. He sighs and gives it another go.
“I mean, your head’s probably in the clouds or something. Maybe it’s the forced proximity, or whatever. Give it a couple days and I’m sure you’ll be over it.” Petey shrugs as he turns away from the dog, almost nonchalantly. “I wanna say ‘Sure! I’ve felt the same way!’, but I think you know that I don’t even like you that much. Right?”
Petey stalls with bated breath, as if he’s waiting for something—pushback, resistance, refusal— but nothing came. The remaining sparks of conversation dwindled with every creak and stepped stair. The living room’s light goes out and once Petey turned around, he realized he had successfully reached his goal of avoiding addressing his and Greg’s relationship. However, despite his supposed success, Greg fled into the night nearly soundlessly and accepted his own defeat. Guilt and remorse crushed Petey’s lungs as he realized he was all alone.
In similar fashion to Greg, Petey wordlessly grabs the nearest coat in his vicinity and shoves his phone into its pocket, He throws the coat on before he reaches for the door, only to hesitate turning the knob. He takes a glance at the now empty house that hosts memories he’s made during his stay at Greg’s house: watching movies on the couch with Lil Petey and Greg that he didn’t really enjoy but relished the laughs his son and Greg made, holding onto the railing in complete distress as he watched the two slide down the stairs in a beat-up cardboard box, coming up from his make-shift lab to see the enthusiasm in Greg’s eyes when detailing about his projects, and especially that one sleepless night when his sins ruthlessly crawled on his back and Greg—being purely and wholly Greg—held him and forgave him when he could barely hold or forgive himself.
His lips quivered and his eyes began to sting. He swung open the door and ran as far as his legs could carry him. All he could mutter was a single curse over and over again:
Fuck .
The steps creaked as Greg came downstairs, reaching out to flick the living room lightswitch. He dragged a towel across the top of his head before draping it across his shoulders and falling onto the couch. The clock just hit midnight, which marks about 2 hours since his confession to Petey, and about 2 hours since his unlucky rejection. He was originally upstairs but had been relentlessly pacing since the interaction. Accidentally, he caused Lil’ Petey to stir in his sleep from doing so, which would definitely earn him an earful from Petey whenever he came back from…wherever he was. He decided resting on the couch after taking a quick shower would have to do.
For starters, Greg knew it wouldn’t be a smooth nor straight path to getting the cat to open up given his past circumstances, but he never anticipated him leaving in the middle of the night. He was much less hurt upon hearing the front door close, and was more concerned about where he could’ve possibly gone.
Was he safe? Greg thought before stopping himself. That was a silly question because if anyone needed to protect themselves, Petey would have the least trouble doing so. Greg had always admired his resourcefulness and quick wit, and he yearned to share these admirations with him more directly. If only Petey hadn’t responded so sourly, maybe they could’ve gotten to that by now.
Now all he wondered was why did he respond so strangely to begin with? Greg correctly guessed, or unfortunately manifested, every reaction Petey had. Well, every reaction Petey attempted to have.
One thing everyone knew about Petey was that he was incredibly gifted and even so, Greg used no more than 3 signs. Petey had successfully utilized his free time to learn ASL and proved himself to be basically fluent in such a short amount of time. Him acting confused was…confusing, but Greg decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and allowed him to continue.
The second time around, with his voice laced with venom, Petey screamed at the top of his lungs and Greg swiveled his head towards the stairs to hear for any shifting from Lil’ Petey. Once he was sure the kitten remained sleeping soundly, he rolled his eyes in annoyance. The cat had always been one for theatrics but never was he not extremely conscious of the people around him. Whenever they’d watch movies after tucking Lil’ Petey into bed and whenever Greg shifted around too hastily, Petey adopted the habit of lightly pinching his nose and whispering in his ear, warning him to be quiet. Greg would always sheepishly nod in agreeance and, if he were lucky, witness Petey silently chortle before he turned back to the TV with a small smile. Even if he denied it, Greg knew he was incredibly aware of the kitten and had acted so abruptly for a reason; a reason he was quickly becoming frustrated with.
The third time around, the excuses stopped being entertaining and quickly became draining. Once Petey returned to his semi-hushed tone, he turned and began dishing out another barrage of empty words, frustrating Greg more than he would like to personally admit. His hands reached out for Petey until he said, as if it were a spell (or more likely, a curse):
“You know that I don’t even like you that much. Right?”
He froze as the words daggered deep in his chest, feeling unable to reach out any further. Despite being under the impression that this would definitely be an uphill battle, he never expected Petey—at least, the Petey he knew now—to say something so incredibly cold. So incredibly indifferent.
Throughout their entire conversation, Greg had the nagging sense that Petey was lying, making up things as he went on. However, his last sentence felt too real. The sentence struck him with a sense of deja vu, reminding him of the time where they did nothing but draw blood from each other's bodies. It scared him.
Greg laid on his side and thought some more, feeling his eyelids grow heavy. Maybe Petey was right. Maybe it was the forced proximity, and maybe he’ll get over it soon enough. Maybe this is all they will ever be and he should be happy, regardless of if it wasn’t enough.
Suddenly his phone rings, vibrating on top of the side table behind him. Greg jolts up and scans the room before picking it up. An extremely blurry photo of Petey attempting to swat his camera away filled the screen alongside his contact name. Greg’s pulse picks up a little, but eventually answers after calming himself down the most he possibly could.
Petey was calling him. Petey was okay. Petey was calling him . Petey wasn’t mad. Petey wanted to talk to him, hopefully just as much as he wanted to talk to Petey. Petey was calling him. So, Greg answered.
First came silence. Then, the phone on the other end sounded like it fell a couple feet from wherever it was held. It was silent a bit more until he heard footsteps and the sound of the phone being picked up. Greg stilled and Petey began talking.
“...So”, echoed Petey on the phone. “What’s…up. Man..?”
Their calls were usually pretty one-sided, but Greg secretly hoped for his silence to convey the deadpan stare he wore upon hearing another one of Petey’s shallow greetings. He moves the phone from his ear and reaches for the end call button before he stalls, hearing muttering from the other side. He lets his curiosity get the best of him and reluctantly brings the phone back.
“Fuck”, he hears Petey say. “You’re probably not even there. Accidentally picked up the phone and got distracted by something stupid, like a squirrel.” Greg readies himself to bark into the phone, conveying to Petey that he was exaggerating and it happened only one time, but stops himself when he hears him speak again.
“Even if you aren't there—and this totally still counts as an apology, I’ll have the call logs to prove it to you tomorrow morning—I’m…I guess. Well. I’m…sorry. For the way I addressed you. Your…er, confession. I guess.”
It felt like all the air was sucked out of Greg’s lungs.
“I didn’t mean to act that way. Act so mean. You put yourself out there, and didn't have a stroke doing so. Or something. Maybe that’s a weird cause and effect situation. I'm new to this sort of thing, if you couldn’t really tell.”
Greg began to smile, and his shoulders became lighter.
“Also, you HAVE to leave the door unlocked tonight. I’ll do anything you say for a good week. No, a good MONTH…okay no, I lied, a week is my limit. I had to sneak in through the window last time I forgot my keys and I don’t think I’ve been that embarrassed in a while.”
Greg's chest bloomed and his face crinkled as he silently laughed at the cat’s dialogue. There he is , thought Greg.
“That really has no correlation to what I came to tell you. You, who isn’t even here. How much more silly will I look when it comes to you, Greg?”
You don’t look silly ever , thought Greg.
“I always stumble over myself for some god forsaken reason and it makes me feel really, REALLY, insane sometimes. Hell, I screamed while the kid was knocked out asleep! If I woke him up, I’d be so pissed.”
Greg grimaced when he heard this and remained quiet in the name of self-preservation. That’s a story they could laugh about in possibly 40 years from now.
“Let’s give this thing a try.” Petey announces abruptly. “Us, I mean.”
Greg freezes up and his mouth hangs open. His phone slips from his hand and crashes onto the floor, sending him scrambling. As it fumbles in his hands, he faintly hears exasperated screams on the other side of the line. The last thing he catches is “that door better be open” and “i’ll kick your ass”.
It doesn't take long for Petey to show up, and Greg waits outside the door in order to keep any commotion away from Lil Petey. He watches as Petey’s tail furiously swishes behind him and his steps grow closer, bracing the scolding he’ll get for not announcing his presence sooner over the phone.
Instead, Greg sees Petey reach for a hug before awkwardly freezing and retreating backwards. He tries again to no avail, sucking his teeth as he turns away. A loud huff escapes the cat and he settles on extending a single hand, covering his face with his other.
The glint in Greg’s eyes shone brighter than ever as he returned the gesture, placing his left palm onto Petey’s. He taps the cat’s hand to get his attention before drawing his hand to his chest, signing in familiar motion.
His index finger angled towards himself. I.
His middle knuckle whitening as its respective finger folds into his palm and the rest lay flat against his chest. Like.
His index finger extended towards the orange cat standing in front of him. You.
I like you , signed Greg.
“Geez, alright, I got it the first time.” Petey said. Although his tone seemed to dictate annoyance, his face appeared to be the complete opposite; it held a distinct sense of fondness and warmth that was reserved for special moments. Greg’s heart practically leapt out of his chest seeing it once more. Petey took his silence as a go-ahead.
“I, uh. I meant what I said. Assuming you heard as much as I think you did. Which, I’m still totally going to get you back for. Just don’t want to ruin the moment right now.”
Greg’s head cocked to the side and he smirked, moving his hand to sign, The moment? Didn’t know you were aware of that sort of thing the way you were speaking earlier.
“Oh my GOD,” Petey groans, rolling his eyes as he fails to hide a smile. “I get it, okay? Try stepping in my shoes and feeling everything I’m feeling right now. You wouldn't even survive a minute. A second.”
Greg signed more cautiously this time around: Then could you actually tell me what you’re feeling? About all of this?
Petey pushed back any stray hairs on his face and swallowed before speaking. “It’s just…I feel like we have a good thing going on.” Greg’s eyes widen as he listens intently. “I just don’t want things to change like crazy. I don’t want whatever…this is to be different just because we're dating. Or whatever. I don't know how we go from here. I just know that I’m willing to try.”
Instantly, and without warning, Greg pulled Petey's hand and enveloped him in a hug, grinning from ear to ear. The cat instinctively shouted, but eventually settled into it, reveling in the warmth from the dog. For the first time that night, they both experienced a sense of clarity that made their chests lighter and hearts fuller. Greg lifts Petey into the air, ignoring his protests and erupting into a fit of laughter. Petey’s protests eventually devolve into laughter as well and he hangs onto Greg as if the dog was fleeting alongside the decaying night.
In that moment, the two’s thoughts seemed to coincide with one another.
They’d be okay. Their lives would mostly remain unchanged. They’d be a family, they’d treat Lil Petey all the same, and they’d be what they wanted to be—together.
And to them, that would be more than enough.