Riley had expected job hunting to be difficult. He had not expected it to be soul-crushing.

  Every night, he filled out applications, tweaked his resume, and checked his email for rejection letters. Every morning, he showed up to work at a degrading fast food job he swore he’d never return to but had no choice.

  Riley should have been able to land an office job years ago but he was never the right fit. He had two degrees; English and Business. He had the experience through internships, entry-level work that should have led somewhere but never did. He had done everything right.

  He never wanted to assume it was white-collar discrimination but there was no other answer. He wasn’t told outright that they wouldn’t hire Felivar. That would be illegal. He wasn’t laughed out of interviews.

  But somehow, the job always went to someone else. Every single time.

  He would see humans with half his credentials walk into positions he was more than qualified for. It happened again and again.

  So now he was working at a fast food job supposedly meant for teenagers, but there were several adults in a similar situation and he hated it.

  Fast food wasn’t just miserable, it was actively humiliating. Because of his fur he had to wear a hairnet, a beard net, gloves, and a long-sleeved shirt under the uniform. His tail wrapped around his waist under the shirt, creating an awkward lump that looked like the worst kind of muffin top.

  He always ran too hot in addition to constantly smelling like grease. He was underpaid and overworked. His human coworkers made comments.

  “Don’t shed in the fryer.”

  “Hey, does your species even eat this garbage?”

  Customers were even worse. Some wanted to pet him. Some pointed at him like a zoo attraction. People stared constantly; making him wish he could just disappear. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to snap but thank the gods he was about to be home.

  Riley smelled it before he even opened the door. The last of his tuna. His stomach ached. That was it; the one thing he’d been saving for when there was nothing else left.

  He pushed the door open, expecting to collapse onto the couch, let the exhaustion of the day sink into his bones. Instead, he stopped in the doorway, eyes narrowing at the sight before him.

  Sophia stood at the kitchen counter, fork in hand, eating straight from the can.

  She barely looked up. “Hey, welcome home.”

  Riley didn’t move. The sweaty uniform clung to his skin, the dull ache of another shift pressing into his shoulders, but suddenly, none of it mattered.

  His voice came out tight, slow. “Is that… my tuna?”

  Sophia chewed, nodded absently. “Mm-hmm.”

  His tail puffed under his shirt, ears twitching. “That was my last can of tuna.”

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  Sophia shrugged, still scraping at the bottom of the can. “You can get more, right?”

  Riley’s chest constricted. “No. I can’t.”

  The words were out before he could swallow them back, sharp and final. His hands curled into fists at his sides, claws pressing into his palms.

  Sophia frowned, finally giving him more than a passing glance. “Okay, jeez. I’ll replace it.”

  That snapped something inside him. He laughed. A bitter, broken sound. “That’s not the point, Sophia!” His voice cracked, rising, all the exhaustion curdling into something sharper. “That was the last of the food I could afford! Do you think I like living like this?! Do you think I don’t try? That I don’t want to walk into a store and buy what I need like everyone else? But I can’t! Because no one will hire me! No one takes me seriously!

  And now after sweating all day in this shit, after getting turned away from another interview, after wondering how long I can make the rent stretch, you’re eating the one thing I was saving for when I had nothing left!”

  Sophia stared at him, can still in her hand, caught off guard. Riley’s breath hitched. His chest heaved. His tail, hidden beneath his shirt, was fluffed up so hard it hurt. His throat burned. His hands trembled. Without warning, he broke. Tears burned down his face, and he couldn’t stop them.

  When the Felivar first arrived on Earth, more people feared and resented them than pitied them.

  The government had called them temporary relocation sites. Some governments said it was for the Felivar’s protection. Some governments were more honest. Then people started asking why they looked so malnourished. Rows of tents, barbed wire fences, and guards standing at the borders.

  A representative of the United Nations sat across from an elderly Felivar, their fur thin and patchy, their voice careful, exhausted. Some governments wouldn’t even allow that much because they argued the Felivar had no earthly nation and were not human so they didn’t need to bother answering to the anyone.

  “How would you describe conditions here?”

  “We are given food.”

  “Enough?”

  “Enough to live.”

  “And work? You have been here for three years now.”

  The Felivar hesitated, then said, slowly, “We ask. They say, ‘Not yet.’”

  “Do you feel you are being helped?”

  A pause grew between them

  Then, in the Felivar tongue, subtitled beneath the screen:

  “A house without doors is a cage.”

  The footage cut away. Pundits debated whether Felivar “ready” to integrate into society. Not whether humans were ready to accept them. Not if they should be treated with dignity. Sometimes it was as if High Priest Niikri Softpaw and Protector Bobtail were the only ones worthy.

  In the present, something in Sophia’s expression shifted. She understood. She understood that it wasn’t just about the tuna, it was about the hunger, the exhaustion, and the endless cycle of rejection.

  She let the can drop to the counter and, without hesitation, stepped forward. Her arms wrapped around him.

  “I’ve got you,” she murmured.

  Riley stiffened at first, but then he sank into her. His claws dug into the fabric of her hoodie, grip tight, desperate. He didn’t mean to cling to her, but gods, he needed this.

  His body trembled against hers. He let out a shaky exhale, his breath hitching. His purring, weak, broken, and barely made it past his throat. Sophia didn’t let go, she just held on.

  After that, something changed. One day, at work, Sophia found herself talking to her Felivar coworker, Kiko.

  “Hey,” she asked, trying to sound casual. “Weird question. What kind of burger do you usually order?”

  Kiko raised a brow. “Why?”

  Sophia shrugged. “Just curious.”

  Sophia started bringing home extra food from 3-Johns Bar and Grill. Not in an obvious way; not pitying.

  She’d just drop a takeout bag on the counter, casual as anything, and say, “Someone didn’t pick up their order, want it?” Riley always took it and always said thank you. He knew better; she just didn’t want to make it a big deal.

  That’s when things shifted between them; from roommates to friends. Sophia saw Riley for who he was, a person struggling just like her and she refused to let him fall.