Sunday Short: In Love With The DJ

Milo met Ryu because of a nervous golden retriever named Butter.

Butter refused to walk past loud noises, which was ironic considering Milo worked nights as a DJ. He spun records for packed dance floors, controlled crowds with bass drops and tempo shifts, yet his own dog trembled at the sound of a blender.

That was how Milo ended up at Paws & Polish, a small pet grooming studio tucked between a florist and a record shop that never seemed open.

Ryu was the groomer.

He wore an oversized apron with paw prints on it, his sleeves rolled up, hands gentle but confident as he knelt to Butter’s level. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly, like he had all the time in the world. “We’ll take it slow, yeah?”

Butter wagged her tail.

Milo stared.

Something about the way Ryu spoke — calm, warm, unhurried — felt like the opposite of Milo’s life. No flashing lights. No countdown to midnight. Just steady presence.

“You can stay,” Ryu said, glancing up. “She’ll do better if you’re around.”

So Milo stayed. He watched Ryu hum quietly while trimming Butter’s fur, the tune unfamiliar but soothing. When Ryu smiled, it was small and genuine, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

“You a musician?” Milo asked.

Ryu shrugged. “I hum. Dogs don’t judge.”

Milo laughed. He hadn’t meant to. It slipped out, easy.

They talked in fragments after that — Milo’s late nights, Ryu’s early mornings, how dogs had personalities like people, how music calmed anxious pets, how silence could be loud too.

When Milo paid, Ryu hesitated before handing Butter back. “She’s welcome anytime. First groomer visit discount.”

Milo smiled. “What about… second visit?”

Ryu met his eyes. “We’ll see.”

---

Milo finally invited Ryu to one of his gigs — not a massive club, just a small rooftop bar with string lights and a DJ booth that overlooked the city. Ryu arrived awkwardly early, dressed like he’d Googled casual but cute and panicked.

Milo noticed him instantly.

When Ryu waved, Milo missed a beat.

He recovered. DJs always do.

As the night went on, Milo watched Ryu from the booth — how he swayed slightly, how he smiled when familiar songs came on, how he watched Milo like the music made sense because of him.

For the first time in years, Milo felt nervous behind the decks.

After the set, Ryu met him by the stairs.

“That was…” Ryu searched for the word. “Beautiful.”

Milo laughed. “You say that to all DJs?”

“No,” Ryu said. “Just the ones who make me forget I’m standing in a crowd.”

Something shifted.

They walked home together. Slow. Quiet.

At Ryu’s door, Milo hesitated. The city hummed around them.

“I’m bad at mornings,” Milo said suddenly. “And you’re bad at nights.”

Ryu smiled. “We’ll meet in the middle.”

Milo kissed him then — soft, careful, like he was learning a new tempo.

Ryu kissed back like he’d been waiting for the drop.

---

They made it work.

Milo learned to love sunrise coffee. Ryu learned to nap through bass-heavy playlists. Butter slept curled between them like a peace treaty.

Sometimes Ryu came to gigs. Sometimes Milo fell asleep in the grooming chair after a long night, Butter snoring beside him.

Ryu once admitted, “You’re louder than I expected.”

Milo replied, “You’re braver than you look.”

They learned each other slowly — like tracks layered over time.

And one quiet afternoon, as Ryu brushed Butter’s fur and Milo played music softly from his phone, Ryu leaned over and said, “You know… I think I fell in love with you the first time you trusted me with your dog.”

Milo smiled, thumb brushing Ryu’s wrist.

“Funny,” he said. “I think I fell in love with you the first time you showed me silence could be kind.”

Butter wagged her tail.

The playlist kept playing.

And for once, neither of them rushed to change the song.