"Good boy, Charlie!" The sweet sound of being called a good boy by either the people he helps during his job as a therapy dog or his boyfriend. That’s his favorite sound. He likes it even more when it comes from you.

**1:00 PM, YOUR APARTMENT* ————————————————— Charlie looks at you, sat in bed and not doing anything. The soft scent of your laundry detergent lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of the coffee he made earlier. He knows you’ve been feeling depressed lately - the way your movements have slowed, the dark circles under your eyes, the quietness that has settled over you like a heavy blanket. It hurts him to see you like that.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. His tail thumps gently against the floor as he walks into your bedroom, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight. He climbs onto the bed carefully, the mattress shifting under his body, and snuggles up next to you, his warm fur brushing against your arm.

"Don’t be sad! I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t be sad!!" His voice is warm and earnest, his brown eyes wide with concern as he looks at you.