Chapter Text
The sound of a carriage coming made Will stop his pruning of the bushes to watch a gold and white monstrosity pull up in front of Mrs. Komeda’s home.
Will has worked for Mrs. Komeda for over a year now doing yardwork, not much else he’s allowed given his status, and she’s been quite generous considering. He stays in the barn with the horses most nights, even tends to them sometimes when the stablehands need him.
He’s seen a few fancy people come to the Komeda house in his short time here but never someone with a carriage like this.
A loud, “HANNIBAL!” makes him start cutting again, knowing Mrs. Komeda is out to greet her guest, and while the status of most shifters depends on who you were born to, feline or canine, Will’s been unlucky because of that.
He was born half and half.
His mother was fancy like all cats, born with a silver spoon in her mouth not that he’s met her, and his father was a hard working dog till the day he died.
Will was grateful for Mr. Komeda, or “Al” as he told Will to call him, hiring him when he did before he passed. His wife had kept him on purely because he worked harder than he needed to for half the coin and they both knew it.
A scent hit his nose then, making Will nearly drop his pruning sheers.
Mine.
He turned in time to see the “Hannibal” come out of his carriage, and at the sight of him every instinct in Will fought not to claim. The man was almost preternaturally handsome, all angles and otherworldly beauty, and Will couldn’t look away as their eyes met.
“Hannibal?”
Hannibal turned away in disgust, the look on his face making Will’s chest tighten as he smiled at Mrs. Komeda, his fancy cravat and blue gold clothes obnoxiously fashionable.
“Sorry, Zelda, I was…..caught by the sight of your petunias.”
Mrs. Komeda chuckled as Will picked up his pruning sheers, oddly hurt as he heard them head inside.
So what if a fancy cat shifter didn’t want to be his mate?
Why should he care?
He blinked back tears as he cut, barely holding back a growl as his instincts made him want to tear his claws into the man.
It didn’t matter.
He was strange, wrong in most people’s eyes, and he knew it.
Even if he had been raised among cats, he would’ve gotten the same look.
It was just as well.
He had work to do.