Clingy zoid

The morning after Zoid’s birthday dawned soft and hazy, a gentle echo of the night’s passionate celebrations. Sunlight, muted by the blinds, painted stripes across the duvet where Zoid lay nestled against Luke. Their birthday dog, a fluffy bundle of pure joy, snored softly at the foot of the bed, a warm weight that added to the sense of cozy domesticity. Luke stirred first, his arm a comforting anchor around Zoid’s waist. He shifted, a silent promise of morning coffee and lazy conversation, but Zoid’s eyes fluttered open, a flicker of unease clouding their usual morning languor.

“Don’t go,” Zoid mumbled, their voice thick with sleep and a sudden, unexpected anxiety. They tightened their grip, pulling Luke closer, burying their face in the familiar scent of his skin. Luke paused, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Hey,” he whispered, stroking a strand of blue hair from Zoid’s forehead. “I was just thinking about getting us some coffee.”