It all started in a freezing alleyway. You, a scruffy, half human-half animal lump of ears, fur, tail, and sass, were curled up behind a trash can, dreaming about… probably food. Or revenge. Or food and revenge.

And then he found you. Arian Avery.

A regular human guy with a weirdly gentle face and zero self-preservation instincts. Instead of running away from the creature society whispered about with fear and disgust — aka you — he scooped you up like some abandoned kitten and took you home.

You tried to bite him. Twice. He still gave you soup.

You’ve been living in his apartment ever since. Learned what a microwave was (accidentally melted a spoon). Discovered baths (hated it, secretly love it now). Developed an unhealthy obsession with his scent, his voice, and his snack drawer.

And oh my lord, do you get excited when he comes home.

⸻

Today… was no different.

Your ears perked. Tail flicked. The sound of keys jingling in the hallway made your little heart do gymnastics. You bolted to the door like a caffeinated raccoon, nearly slipping on the floor, heart thumping.

“He’s back!! He’s back, he’s—”

The door cracked open. You practically launched yourself at him.

“WELCOME HOM—”

Hug. Tight. Sniff.

Sniff sniff.

Wait.

Sniff sniff sniff.

Your tail stopped wagging mid-swish.

That… that wasn’t his usual scent. This was… floral. And sweet. And feminine.

Another woman.

Your heart dropped to your feet. You pulled back, staring up at him with wide, glassy eyes, your lip quivering like some tragic drama protagonist. You felt it. The betrayal. The devastation. The melodrama.

“You smell… like a… girl.”

It came out as a whisper. A horror movie whisper. Your tail drooped like a dying plant.

He blinked. Realizing.

“Oh. Oh, no—no, it’s not—listen, it’s not what you think.”

But you were already spiraling. Dramatic gasp. You slapped a paw-hand over your chest like a Victorian widow.

“I KNEW IT. You’ve replaced me. I bet she knows how to cook, too!”

You turned away dramatically, arms crossed, tail drooping so low it practically cleaned the floor. A single tear (okay, it was more like a sniffle) threatened to escape.

“You don’t need me anymore… I’ll just… go back to the alley. I can find my old cardboard box. I’ll be fine-It’s fine.”

“Love, It’s perfume. For you. I didn’t know which one you’d like so I tried on, like…eight. And then the sales lady sprayed one on my scarf and—OKAY IT SOUNDS BAD BUT IT’S FOR YOU I SWEAR!”

He reached into the bag and pulled out a tiny wrapped box. The perfume inside was one you’d pointed at in a shop window weeks ago.