The Junkyard had never been so alive with gossip or rumors and, sadly, much of it had to do with the young Victoria and the even younger Mistoffelees; the pair had finally been confronted about their alleged 'relationship,' which the two shot down with confused faces and much persistence. Most of the other cats did not believe the two, and they themselves could not believe what was happening. They had always been close friends, true, but never had they thought of each other in such a way as how their fellows were accusing them. In all honesty, Mistoffelees had been confused for quite some time as to if he had much interest in Toms or Queens, a phase that most young kits his age had gone through themselves. Victoria, however, had known her priorities for quite some time. The soon to be Queen had eyes for only one Tom, and so far his returned affections made her heart flutter at the thought. But ever since the gossip of Victoria and Mistoffelees, the Tom had been more hostile towards others than normal which slightly scared Mistoffelees, even if the older Tom didn't mean to.
Little did they all know that another cat, one older and more experienced than Victoria, had a green eye on the same Tom, and with the rumors of Mistoffelees and Victoria getting mated, the cat decided to act upon emotion and approach the Tom, pushing aside all fear of rejection.
It was near noon that morning when Plato awoke from the light infiltrating his den. He was one of the few cats that didn't have a human, and he had always preferred it that way. When he left the safety of the den, he was surprised at who he saw fiddling with his long brown tail not very far away; Skimbleshanks was lost in thought and rather nervous-looking, leaning against an old piece of railing with his head down. Plato contemplated saying hello, though decided against it, but before he could walk away unnoticed, Skimbleshanks happened to look in his direction. He fumbled over his words, and even more his feet, trying to catch up with the younger Tom who waited patiently, his thin eyes observing the Tom as he approached clumsily. Though Plato was tall, Skimbleshanks was still taller, if only by just a few inches, and he smiled down at him with a lop-sided grin, his heart pounding excitedly in his chest.
"G'morning, Mr. Skimbleshanks, this is...odd."
At first the Tom was taken back but he soon realized what Plato meant.
"Oh, yes, yes...I saw the train off thi s'mornin', I did, and all is well." When the young Tom's expression didn't change, Skimbleshanks tried his best to elaborate. "I had, y'know...s'm...business to attend to..."
He scratched his head uneasily.
Plato turned to leave; after all, he wanted to make a point of meeting with Victoria before the night.
"Well don't let me keep you-"
Skimbleshanks, panicking, grabbed his arm
"Wait!" He released Plato when he realized what he had done, his cheeks flushing brightly. "I just...I mean...I...I wan'ed to talk to...to you. Yeah, you." He nodded, more to himself than anyone else, gaining more confidence the more he spoke no matter how moronic the words that came out of his mouth sounded. "Plato, ever since I...since I saw you tha' first time at th'a railway, I've...I've been...feelin' things for 'ya."
He couldn't help but fidget with his tail. It was more than logical for him to be nervous; Plato was many, many cat years younger than himself and usually such young Toms preferred young Queens to be mated with. Skimbleshanks was past his prime, though that did not make him any less humble or hinder him from lusting for love. But Plato was no regular young Tom, he was more serious, blunt, and all-around stable in more than just Skimbleshanks' eyes and never seemed to be nervous or puzzled.
That was, not until now. The young Tom's eyebrow lifted, though his eyes only seemed to thin more. He looked taken back, though he swiftly recomposed himself.
"I...had no idea...What makes you tell me this? Now, that is?"
Skimbleshanks' nervous grin widened innocently, the Tom slightly excited. After all, Plato had not been sickened by the thought of being with him. Maybe there was hope.
"Well, y'know, I always thought ya' were with Miss Victoria, she is a pretty lil' lass, she is, but now it seems e'ryone is talkin' about her an' Mistoffelees getting mated this summer-"
To Skimbleshanks' dismay, he had said the wrong thing. Plato's brow furrowed as his cheeks flushed rather angrily, his black pupils turning to slits as he stared coolly up at the older Tom. Skimbleshanks' heart seemed to fall to his stomach as, without a word, Plato stormed off, no longer seeking out Victoria but instead Mistoffelees.
Left to watch the one he had been in love with for a year stalk off, Skimbleshanks' overall demeanor sank almost to the ground. If he had ever shed a tear in his life, he would have cried, but the high-spirited Tom didn't seem to have the ability. Instead, he slunk off to brood alone in a clearing he hoped would remain deserted until he fell over and died from depression.