The world could collapse, kill the current population, have a rebirth and people would still need to create—and abuse—a social hierarchy to function.
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 startling 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, stereotypes creeped in and gave it a new meaning. The biased comments no longer harmless quips, 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 more accurately, 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.
Despite all he was taught, he snuck in some escapades of his own and found out that the world was painfully vast. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he stayed scared forever. So when his curiousity eyed his fear, the smaller shrank. His outings got later and farther away from home.
At the age of twelve, he had his first rude awakening at a mixed bar.
Right at the edge of the street was a bar. There was a beer bottle with wings on its shiny signboard, around it read Cherub's Pub. The bar was flashy and attractive—exactly what he wanted to see.
Though he never could forget the words that would be whispered to him moments later, the smell of a toxic brew on their lips, their hand on his ass as they nudged their head towards the dancers on 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 years old, society did what it did best and pretended to progress. There were hardly any places that still identified as "exclusive" or "mixed".
On the face of things, people promoted that all different affiliations could now be one big happy family, everywhere in the world. But as the saying goes, looks can be deceiving.
₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎
"Who ordered the Jade Moon?" Niko asked the barista as he made his way to the counter from the back door. He fixed his apron as he approached, managing to tie a loose knot that would likely not last him very long. He lowered his voice and spoke near the other's ear, "People never order it so I assumed it was terrible. No offense."
The barista, Zion, only chuckled in response, pouring his latest creation into a glass, topping it with a lemon at 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 aesthetics-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 their beauty, save for the Jade Moon.
After decorating the last glass, Zion found enough room in his brain to form a response. "A new guy came in today, ordered that moss-water-looking drink and just vanished. He seemed…" Zion pursed his lips in thought, then settled on, "different." He took off his black latex gloves and set them down neatly.
"Yikes." Niko snorted and spinned once in his stool. The waiters gradually collected all the drinks and Zion took the chance to sit beside his friend.
"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?"
Zion suddenly nudged him lightly, talking in the loudest whisper ever. "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 distant side profile, he looked fairly handsome. Tan skin, sharp jawline, the works.
"Damn."
"Niko—"
"But he's hot."
"Go home." Zion chucked and shoved him without real force.
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, young man. That couch is made of the finest faux leather the black market has to offer."
Niko scoffed.
Zion continued, "You literally have one of the last feather-stuffed pillows in the world. You're basically royalty. Of course everything would be uncomfortable for you."
"Must you remind me of my sorrows?" He sighed deeply, slumping on the stool's arm rest.
Moments later, the man ended his call and pulled the handle. After realizing he was actually walking towards them, Niko straightened like a pole and Zion rushed to present him with his deep green drink.
"Oh you didn't have to, a waiter could've served it." Zion fumbled out a response, caught off guard.
The mystery guy's beauty was on full display. There was a little dot directly under his left eye, like the last fullstop in an award-winning essay. There was also a bit of stubble on his face, but even that had sex appeal. Niko used to think stubble looked greasy, but that was the old him. The new Niko was sure he would fantasize about that masterpiece of an unfinished beard for a hot minute.
The man waved his hand and smiled slightly, signaling it was no big deal, before taking his glass to sit at a table with an equally serious-looking man.
As Zion turned to face Niko, he noticed Niko's flushed cheeks as the boy shamelessly stared at the customer. He rolled his eyes and flicked Niko 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." Zion eyed him. "And this place isn't good for a bunny, either. Especially you."
Niko felt a heat in the pit of his stomach. "I know. You never fail to remind me of things I already know." He swallowed and took a deep breath, shoulders gradually falling. "Anyways, that's why I make it a point to be here. I won't get anywhere by playing only the safe cards."
Zion just stared, then shook his head.
"My scalp is burning just looking at you. You really stress me out, do you know that?" Zion ran both hands over his face and stretched it excessively.
Niko then watched him turn around and take his apron off.
"Whatever. I'm off the clock, and so are you. I'll walk you." He folded his apron and put it away, then began wiping down the counter.
"He's a bit late," Niko interjected, checking his watch, "but shouldn't you wait for Fero to get here first?"
Zion turned to give him a look. "You were in the break room."
"..So?" He lifted a brow.
"Didn't you see him? He got here some minutes ago, said he had to charge his phone then went out back for a smoke. After borrowing my lighter, of course." He muttered the last sentence, turning back.
Niko dropped his brow and thought about it. "Well, if I did, I wouldn't have asked."
The bleach-blond barista spoke up again in a tone peppered with mockery. "Don't tell me.. you fell asleep."
Niko didn't respond. He knew what was coming next.
"Brick couch, huh." Zion snickered.
"Oh, shut up."
After sending Fero a text, he heard a ding beside him. Sure enough, a familiar brown-phone-case-covered cell was charging right behind him.
Zion groaned. "Is he a ninja? Just hold on, let me go get him." He left through the back exit, cursing under his breath.
Niko leaned on the freshly-cleaned counter and did some more people-watching. His favourite activity. On the far left, a group was gathered around the small projector screen, drinking and discussing too loudly. He recognized a few of the usual buzzwords like 'office', 'recession' and 'economy' and knew it must have been a political showdown.
To the right of them, he saw a table of people who were definitely too young to be there. The occasional nervous stare when the rest weren't looking and the stiff laughter were a clear giveaway. Some of them even wore fake animal ears. He guessed those were trendy among kids again.
His eyes lingered on the bunny-eared boy.
"Excuse me. Do you also 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 mask his excitement, so his face probably looked a little too eager to work at a pub on a Friday afternoon.
"Not really, 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 two propped up hands.
"Honestly? You're just so stunning. I waited for your friend to leave.. because I was scared to ask for your number." He lightly scratched the side of his cheek with his finger, a sheepish smile on his lips.
Now that surprised him. Niko thought like his eyes would pop or roll away with how wide they were.
"Oh.. that is definitely very honest of you." He laughed nervously.
Then he realized that 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 revealed the same watch. "May I?" He tapped his screen against the other's and a little click sounded, then a ping followed as an automatic message was sent to both sides.
The man revealed yet another charmingly shy smile and walked back to his table as if nothing had happened. Blissfully unaware that he had just become the hearts in someone's eyes. On the other hand, maybe he was used to it.
When Niko thawed out of the shock, he managed to look down and catch the name of his newest contact.
Luka Kross.
…Even his name is hot.