Stereotypes.
The world could collapse in on itself, kill everyone, have a rebirth and people would still need these boxes to identify themselves.
The ones who could write created the stories. The loudest voices dictated public opinion. That would always be the case, no exceptions.
The rest? They scrambled for safe spaces and protected themselves from those with power, reinforcing that the ones suffering should suffer more carefully, because the ones in a position to stop the chaos 'just couldn't help it.'
Affiliation was not a choice, it was your origin. It decided things like wolves ruled best, foxes schemed, sharks were ruthless, and rabbits obeyed. The pecking order of the animal kingdom would always be a cruel master.
Niko realized this early enough.
At the age of twelve, he wandered out of his neighborhood and into a mixed bar.
It was flashy and attractive and he was one to go after things that attracted him.
In the end, he could never forget the words whispered to him, the smell of a toxic brew on their lips, the hand on his ass as they nudged their head towards the stage.
'Step up and see how pretty you'd look doing it'.
He wasn't sure what would have happened that night, had his father not dragged him away by the ear.
By the time Niko reached twenty, society did what it does best and pretended to progress. There were hardly any places that still identified as "exclusive" or "mixed".
Suddenly, people believed all different affiliations could be one big happy family, everywhere in the world.
However, there would soon be a glitch in the already-flawed system. And it would be one boy that threw the shit straight into the fan.
And it all began at a bar.
Hot Shotz was busy that afternoon.
"Who ordered the Jade Moon?" Niko asked the barista, after suddenly popping up behind him. "People never order it. I assumed it was terrible."
He sat on a stool behind the counter, closely watching his friend mix different drinks that all just smelled strange and bitter to him.
Clive easily responded, "You remembered the name this time. Maybe you aren't brain dead— Hey, no hitting. If I fuck this up, can you pay that mafia-boss-looking guy back?" He looked up and pointed with his eyes. Niko followed his gaze out of the bar as Clive went back to working on his drink.
Not far behind the glass doors stood a tall man, clad in all-black, from his styled hair, to his turtle neck, to his trenchcoat. One hand was in his pocket while the other held a phone to his ear.
From his side profile, he looked fairly handsome. Tan skin, sharp jawline, the works.
"Damn."
"Niko."
"But he's hot."
"Go home."
Niko sighed. "I've been in the back room all day. If I had a home more comfortable than that brick couch, I would go to it."
"I won't accept any more sofa slander from you. That couch is made of the finest faux leather the black market has to offer."
Niko scoffed.
Clive continued, "You literally have one of the last feather-stuffed pillows. You're basically royalty. Of course everything would be uncomfortable for you."
"Must you remind me of my sorrows?" He sighed dramatically, slumping on the stool's arm rest.
Moments later, the man returned to the counter and Clive served his deep green drink.
From the front, his beauty was on full display and Niko was sure he would fantasize about that facial masterpiece for a hot minute.
The man smiled slightly, then took his glass to sit at a table with another equally serious-looking man.
As Clive turned to face Niko, he noticed Niko's flushed cheeks as he shamelessly stared at the mysterious customer. Clive rolled his eyes and flicked him on the forehead. "Seriously. Go home."
Niko rubbed his head and pouted. "You don't get it.. My father's back."
"All the more reason for you to leave. Do you want me to get arrested for kidnapping? Prison isn't kind to foxes." Clive eyed him. "And this place isn't good for a bunny, either. Especially you."
Niko tensed up. "I know. But that doesn't stop you from reminding me." He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Anyway, that's why I make it a point to be here."
Clive just stared, then shook his head.
"My scalp is burning just looking at you. You really stress me out, did you know that?" Clive scooped a handful of his thick coils and let go after some seconds.
Niko watched him turn back to the counter and take his apron off.
"I'm off the clock. I'll walk you." He folded his apron and put it away, then began wiping down the counter.
"Shouldn't you wait for Fero to get here first?" Niko interjected.
Clive turned to give him a look. "You were in the break room."
"So?"
"Didn't you see him? He said he went to get his charger and went out back for a smoke after borrowing my lighter. He's already here."
Niko raised a brow and thought about it. "Well, if I did, I wouldn't have asked."
Clive turned back to the counter. "You fell asleep?"
Niko didn't respond. He knew what was coming next.
"Brick couch, huh." Clive snickered.
"Oh, shut up."
After sending Fero a quick text, he heard a ding beside him and quickly remembered he had plugged his phone in behind the counter.
Clive groaned. "Just hold on, let me go get him." He left through the back exit.
Niko leaned on the freshly-cleaned counter and did some people-watching. He saw some people drinking in front of the projector and discussing loudly about the news. He also saw a table of boys and girls that were definitely too young to be there and trying to "prove" themselves. Some even wore fake animal ears— He guessed they were trendy again.
His eyes lingered on the bunny-eared boy.
"Excuse me. Do you work here?" A deep voice caught his attention and he turned, only to come face-to-face with the masterpiece from earlier.
Niko never could hide his attraction, so his face likely looked a little too eager.
"No, but the barista on night duty will be here in a few minutes. Need a refill?" Niko gave a polite smile, cradling his face in his propped up hand.
"Honestly? You're just so stunning. I waited for your friend to leave.. because I was scared to ask for your number."
Now that surprised him. He felt like his eyes would pop or roll away with how wide they were.
"Yeah.. that was definitely very honest of you." Niko laughed nervously.
Then he realized this renaissance sculpture just asked for his number.
"My number. Yes. Of course. Um, my phone isn't here." He lifted his wrist, revealing a Deon Band.
"That's okay." The man rolled up a sleeve and lifted his arm too, tapping his watch against the other's. There was a click and a ping as an automatic message was sent to both sides.
The man revealed a charming smile and walked back to his table.
Niko looked down at his screen to see the name of his newest contact.
Cillian Tempest.