Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia or any of its properties.

Notes: This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here.

A Boy and His Dog

Noishe was afraid of monsters, but he wasn't afraid of Lloyd, and so sometimes when they were bored the two of them would play wrestle.

Lloyd, of course, was never a match for Noishe. Noishe towered over him when he was young, and even after Lloyd hit his growth spurt he was still barely on eye-level with Noishe. Still, the two of them would play. Noishe would headbutt Lloyd's shoulder and Lloyd would try and grab Noishe in a headlock, and the two would tumble on the grass wherein Noishe would gnaw on Lloyd's hair or his shoulder.

One time they played on a summer day that was so hot Genis refused to leave his house and Colette was summoned to the cathedral for lessons. Lloyd and Noishe played by the stream that ran alongside his house, roughhousing on the grass. It was too hot for his coat, so Lloyd had chucked it off, tossing it carelessly on the riverbank. Temperature-wise, this was an improvement. Wrestling-wise, it was a mistake. Caught up in their game, the two of them became careless, and Noishe clamped down on Lloyd's shoulder hard enough for Lloyd to cry out and instinctively jerk away.

"Ow, ow, ow—damn, that's going to leave a mark . . ." Noishe's teeth had broken the skin, and Lloyd hissed through his teeth as little drops of blood oozed through the scrapes and punctures. Gingerly, he poked the marks with his finger, wincing each time, and he didn't stop until the sounds of distressed whimpering met his ears. He turned to see that Noishe was cowering away from him, tail between his legs, ears back. "Oh, no—no, Noishe, no, don't feel bad, it's okay."

His words didn't seem to help. Noishe cowered back until he was practically lying on the grass, his whimpers turning to distressed, heartbroken whines. Lloyd walked over and crouched down beside him, and put one hand on Noishe's head.

"It's okay, Noishe. Really, it is. You don't have to feel bad. I know you didn't mean it." Noishe nuzzled his head against Lloyd's hand, and then lifted his head to gently lick the wound on Lloyd's shoulder. Lloyd smiled. "See? It's fine now. You cured it. I'm all better."

Noishe seemed slightly mollified; his long tail began thumping against the grass, slowly but surely. But every time they played after that, he held back. Lloyd could tell, even if he never said anything about it. Noishe steadfastly refused to bite down on anything that wasn't covered by a thick jacket or hair, and as much as Lloyd wanted Noishe to know he wasn't holding a grudge, there was a part of him that was thankful for it.