Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

“It hurts,” Hugo said as he lifted his head. He pressed a hand against his
chest above his heart.
Mei sobbed into her hands, little hiccupping breaths.
“I know,” Nelson said. “But I can leave now, secure in the knowledge that
you stand on your own two feet. And when the days come that you don’t think
you’ll be able to, you’ll have others to ensure you will. That’s the point,
Hugo. That’s the point of all of this.”
“Grief,” Hugo choked out. “It’s grief.” Apollo tried to nose at his hand,
ever the service dog he’d been in life. He settled on the floor next to Hugo’s
feet, nose inches from Hugo’s toes.
“It is,” Nelson agreed. “We’ll see each other again. But not for a long,
long time. You have a life to live, and it’ll be filled with such color and joy
that it’ll take your breath away. I just wish…” He shook his head.
“What?” Hugo asked.
“I wish I could hug you,” Nelson said. “One last time.”
“Mei.”
“On it, boss,” Mei said. She moved quickly, tapping her finger against her
palm. The air stuttered, and then she was hugging Nelson with all her might.
Nelson laughed brightly, face toward the ceiling, tears streaming down his
face.
“Yes,” he said. “This is fine. This is fine, indeed.”
When Mei pulled away, Nelson smiled.
“When?” Hugo asked.
“I think at sunrise.”
Those who came to Charon’s Crossing Tea and Treats the next morning were
surprised to find the front door locked once more, a sign in the window with
an apology, saying that the tea shop would be closed that morning for a
special event. It was okay. They would come back.
Inside, Hugo rose unsteadily to his feet. They’d spent the night together in
front of the fireplace, Nelson in his chair, the fire crackling. Wallace and Mei
and Apollo had listened as the two men told stories of their youth, tales of
their family who’d gone on before them.