#x; pluto

Most people did not think about the intricacies involved when it came to being cursed. More specifically, cursed to be a dog. 

In fact, most people did not think about that even ... remotely a bit. Pluto never actually thought too hard about it, despite being the key audience for such a thing. However... with his recent return to human form, he found himself thinking about it almost every waking second. About the ‘what if’s’ about the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ and everything else. Mostly big picture things - but... in times like this, the small detailed questions started to come out too. 

One, for example, was... What did a human-turned-dog-turned-back-human do....inside their ‘owner’s’ house while they were gone...? 

Well, Pluto was trying to figure out the very answer to that question now. But being inside the house was a... weird experience. Especially when no one else was home. Before it had been fine. Peaceful. Nice - in the world of a dog, anyways. The relaxing white noise, the hours of uninterrupted self-reflection time... Sometimes it was lonely. Sometimes he felt himself get up and go find Booboo, nudging the little white dog to play with him or keep him company but.. Sometimes he felt like Booboo knew he was different too. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t communicate with him the way the other dogs could. 

It wasn’t like he’d missed the looks that Tucker and Booboo had passed between themselves before looking at him - like expecting a response that he couldn’t give. The way their heads tilted lightly before they went back to playing. Maybe they just thought he was shy. Maybe they thought he was weird. But they were still nice to him. Booboo still played with him whenever he asked. And when he didn’t wish to play, Pluto simply took the route of sleeping by the door instead, waiting patiently for Amy to come home or for Pip to come barreling through the door singing for their warm welcome. 

Now Milo didn’t know what to do. 

Now he felt... out of place. Like he did not belong. Despite Amy’s best efforts and kindness, Milo knew Pip did not feel comfortable, nor was he happy. That much had been made clear since the second his curse broke - or... paused. Whatever had happened. Which was understandable. Milo could not fault the other man! It was completely reasonable to be angry and uncomfortable with the fact that Milo had been invited into this home and wasn’t really a dog! It was... probably very vulnerable. Betraying. How many things had Pluto witnessed in his time here? From... crying over breaking a boy’s heart, to pain over a dream crumbling before him. His mother missing graduation... Interventions from well-meaning friends... Gossiping on his computer. He’d seen it all. He’d been right there, curled up by his side for a lot of it. A fly on the wall. Someone Pip spoke his troubles to - never expecting answers or judgment. Just comfort in return. 

To now find out that all of those secrets spilled actually rested in a real person’s mind?... 

He felt the discomfort all of that had caused by the hits he’d taken from the man’s pillow. 

Though - don’t get him wrong. He was also still incredibly grateful. They could have thrown him right out on the street the second they had the chance, but Amy offered for him to stay in their home despite everything. Despite Pip’s obvious hesitance, which, had waned a fair bit compared to the original distrust but.. again, Milo was sure that this was neither easy nor comfortable for Pip. 

And truly he wasn’t really sure it was for him either. 

What was he even supposed to do with himself, after all? It wasn’t like he couldn’t just curl up by the door. Snooze against the couch or idly people watch from their front window - well, actually he supposed he could do that, but that would be quite weird for a person to do, wouldn’t it?...

Even Booboo seemed to have his doubts now, watching him from afar and running off back to Pip’s room anytime Milo tried to engage (though thankfully the doubts did not extend to any further attacks on his person at the very least). So... with nothing really in mind, instead Milo eventually just found himself pacing the household, counting his steps and keeping a careful balance between looking around and trying not to snoop. 

It became a mindless activity, just circling over the layout of the layout over and over, seeing if he could find something new to observe every time he did it. A new picture. A new crack in the foundation. A new spider in the corner to watch. Anything. It hadn’t occurred to him that he could do.... literally anything. Pick up a book? Watch the TV on his own. Anything like that felt a little too intrusive. It wasn’t his house. Weren’t his belongings... It was best to displace as little as possible if he wanted to keep a roof over his head for a little longer, right?

It was on round eleven or twelve that Milo had finally wandered a little further than his usual loop - stepping into Amy’s bedroom out of habit this time. Though he only made it a few mere feet before he felt his heart nearly stop in his chest as he spotted a figure suddenly appear in his peripherals. 

Daring to glance to his side, Milo immediately felt his heart clench a second time as his brows immediately furrowed. The gasp caught in his throat as he stared, afraid to move as his gaze wandered over the figure’s body - slowly inching up until it landed on their features - finding them staring right back at him too. 

But... it wasn’t a stranger. No - ... The figure across him was no stranger at all. 

“...A-..Appa?” He managed after a few strained moments of silence - not even realizing how his father’s mouth moved in time with his own. He was alive? He was... here? All of these thoughts raced through his head as the lump grew in his throat. His mother had told him he’d died! That he’d been killed. Yet here he stood in front of him! So far from home. Jihun had come all this way for him. For his son. 

He’d never given up on him. 

Milo moved quickly then, stepping towards his father as his father mirrored his actions. An emotional smile broke across his features, eyes stinging with unshed tears and he reached out - not even afraid of what his curse might do.

It didn’t matter - his father was alive. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

It was only when his hand banged painfully against the glass, re-irritating already sore knuckles, that realization finally sank in. 

‘Gyungmin... you look so much like your father.’

He could almost feel his mother’s hands on his cheeks now - the warm smile gracing her lips before her fingers slipped through his hair and the feeling left as quickly as it came, leaving him with that cold pit in his heart. 

The figure that stared back at him became a bit more clear then as he pressed his fingers gently against the glass, the details he’d failed to notice the first time seemingly appearing before his eyes - the missing wrinkles. The sleeker frame. The pointed features. 

It wasn’t Jihun. 

It... it was him. 

His father was still dead... and he was still alone. 

Milo swallowed back that stabbing feeling in his throat as his hand gently traced over the mirror as if the man still wasn’t convinced that the person in front of him was truly his reflection. It had been five years, after all. Five long years since he’d seen himself as anything more than a wrinkly, long-eared, and furry dog. He’d only been thirteen when his curse had solidified him as a canine for years. He’d barely gotten to growing. His muscles hadn’t been defined, he’d barely come up to his mother’s shoulders, and his jaw hadn’t been so sharp. 

Looking over himself now, he could see the years that he’d lost. It was... hard to look at yourself in the mirror and not recognize the person that looked back. To see everything that had changed without ever getting to see it. The person looking back at him might as well have just been a stranger. 

...though Milo guessed he was. 

He’d accepted being a dog. He’d just accepted that would be the rest of his life. Milo never thought he’d get to see himself again. He didn’t even remember what it was like to be human. How he was supposed to act. What he was supposed to do...

He felt lost. More lost than he’d ever felt wandering some street in a city he didn’t recognize. 

People liked to help dogs though. Most people were kind to dogs. They reached out. They offered comfort. They offered their hearts. ...would people do that to a human in need too? How long would he have here until things changed? How long did he have to remember what it was like to be human? Would he e————

Booboo - My darling!

The front door closing followed by Pip’s call easily startled him - stumbling back away from the mirror clumsily before he backpedaled quicker than he came. Pluto swiftly exited Amy’s room - pressing his back against the hall wall to not get caught snooping around where he wasn’t welcome. Booboo went zipping by him, glancing over at him with a soft whine before he continued down the stairs towards his owner. 

Not that Pluto noticed any of this. 

It was hard to when his breath was coming out in heavy blanketed gasps like he’d just run some kind of marathon in stifling heat. Hands clenched shaking fingers into fists. He felt... weird. He felt... - well, there was no way to describe the way his chest felt like it was tightening, his heart pounding like the walls were closing around him. He’d never felt this way before. The man closed his hands a little tighter like maybe the pressure would remind him how to function. He truly didn’t remember how to be human, did he? What was he supposed to do?

What was happening? 

Footsteps approached - a shaky breath escaped Milo as his gaze snapped up. His look betrayed his own panic and he hated that Pip’s expression turned to confused concern the second he reached the landing, Booboo nestled gently against his side. Milo saw Pip’s lips moving, saw the gentle furrow of his brows, but the words didn’t reach him. Not the ones that Pip was saying, anyway, but instead the ones that repeated too loudly within his mind. 

Alone. 

He flinched, pushing away from the wall and waving Pip off with shaking fingers - almost too numb to feel as he spun on his heel and darted off down the hall. I’m fine! I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. 

The mantra circled his brain as he raced down the steps, all but running to the door and throwing himself out of it. 

Be safe, my son.