Harbor

“Please,” she murmured, foreheads leaning against each other, her fingers tangled in Valerie's hair. “Please don’t make me say it.”  There was nothing to say, after all. Pluto loved her. She had to. “Oh, but you have to.” Valerie sighed. She sounded tired. “You have to say it, you have to accept it.” “Why?” Pluto just about whined. She cringed at the way it sounded, reminiscent of a petulant child, but she couldn’t find it within herself to care. “Why? Why can’t I have this?” Valerie’s eyes softened, eyebrows furrowing and pinching together. “Because it’s not true.” “Who are you to decide that?” It was soft, almost a whisper. Another question, almost buried by the surrounding world. “Someone who loves you,” OR Pluto is having dreams, dreams where she must answer a question.