Alan shifted restlessly beneath the covers, his cheeks flushed and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The only sound beyond the rain was the quiet whine of Robby, his loyal dog, curled up at his feet. Every so often, Robby nudged Alan’s ankle, as if to remind him he was not alone. "I wish I could go outside with you, Robby," Alan whispered, reaching down to scratch the dog’s ears.

Robby refused to leave Alan’s side, even when the door creaked open and a bowl of soup appeared in his mother’s hand. Robby watched every movement, tail thumping quietly on the floor. "He won’t eat unless you’re here, Robby. You really are his best friend," Alan’s mother said softly, placing the bowl on the nightstand.

Alan clung to Robby’s fur, drawing comfort from the warmth and steady heartbeat of his companion. The world outside faded away, replaced by the simple, steadfast presence of his loyal friend. "Thank you for staying, Robby. I’m not so scared when you’re here," Alan murmured, voice muffled by fatigue.

Robby leaps onto the bed, tail wagging wildly as if sensing the change. Alan laughs weakly, the sound fragile but pure, and hugs Robby close. "Maybe today we can go outside, even if it’s just to the porch. Would you like that, Robby?" Robby barks in reply, the room filling with hope and light.

Alan leans his head against Robby, heart swelling with gratitude. For the first time in days, the future feels less frightening. "No matter what happens, I’ll always have you, Robby," Alan says softly, his words drifting out into the sunlit morning.