The world could collapse, kill everyone, have a rebirth and people would still need a social hierarchy to utterly abuse.
For as long as anyone could remember, it had been the reality that the ones who wrote created the stories. The loudest voices dictated public opinion. No exceptions.
The rest? They scrambled for 'safe spaces' to shield themselves from people with power—especially the ones with reckless power. The dangerous folks that could say "those suffering should suffer more diligently, as we just can't help ourselves near an easy target!" and the only appropriate response would be, "thank you for the kind advice, master."
It was a genre of hell to be weak in a world where power trumped everything when it mattered the most.
Affiliation was not a choice, it was your origin. But at some point, the stereotypes creeped in and gave it a new meaning. The biased comments weren't harmless quips, but rather facts in an identity society silently pieced together. They collectively 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 goddess.
Niko realized this early enough. There was a tangible timidity in his parents, the same timidity they tried to instil in him. The way they carried themselves, or rather, refused to carry themselves. It was like they were constantly waiting to apologize just for existing. They had a view of life that was limited (restricted ) and downright depressing.
But Niko's eyes were, unfortunately, too big. Definitely bigger than his parent's.
At the age of twelve, he snuck out and wandered into a mixed bar.
The outside was different than he had anticipated. He thought things would be a little more colourful. Everything certainly looked fancier than their closed-off hovel in the ground.
Right at the edge of the street was the bar. The shiny signboard read Cherub's Pub. The bar was flashy and attractive—exactly what he wanted to see.
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.Your kind is the best for this shit!'.
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".
On the face of things, people believed all different affiliations could be one big happy family, everywhere in the world.
Alas, 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.
₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎
Hot Shotz was busy that afternoon.
"Who ordered the Jade Moon?" Niko asked the barista, walking behind the counter from the back door. He fixed his apron as he approached, managing tie a loose knot that would likely not last him through his shift. He lowered his voice and spoke near the other's ear, "People never order it. I assumed it was terrible."
The barista, Zion, only chuckled in response, pouring his latest creation into a glass before topping it with a lemon on the corner and a mini purple umbrella. Indeed, the jade green mixture looked convincingly putrid, so no surprise that it wasn't a best-seller. Hot Shotz, almost alluding to the name, attracted all sorts of aesthetic-obsessed people. They wouldn't be caught dead ordering what looked like a frothy green toothpaste.
Niko sat on a stool behind the counter, observing. He watched his friend mix up more drinks that all just smelled strange and bitter to him. At least he could admire the beauty, save for the Jade Moon.
After decorating the last glass, Zion found enough room in his brain to respond. "A new guy came in, ordered the moss-water-looking drink. He looked…" Zion pursed his lips in thought, then settled on, "different."
"Yikes." Niko snorted and spinned once in his stool. The waiters gradually collected all the drinks and Zion took the chance to sit beside the other boy.
"Not bad different. Odd is more like it." They sported a similar pose, a hand below their chin as they people-watched.
"How's that better?"
Niko suddenly nudged him lightly. "He's back. Front door." Niko followed his gaze out of the bar.
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, it was like a chic funeral look from the cover of some designer brand magazine. 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." Zion chucked.
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.