Keon placed a hand over his mouth, struggling to contain the yawn threatening to escape. He made it a point to leave at the ass-crack of dawn every day to help at the bar, even though Lucky ordered him not to come up before noon. It had been days since the election, and so far he avoided more than a few seconds of conversation with Cassius.
It became a struggle to sneak out of the house, and his master had almost caught him more times than he can count on both hands. Yesterday, Cassius must have just gotten up from a nap, sweatpants on with a baggy shirt, blonde hair a mess, eyes tired, glasses on but falling down his nose. He stopped Keon in the doorway, surprised etched into his features.
Keon made up an excuse about having to stop at the convenience store to get dog food, threw on his sneakers and ran out the door. The results from the election had come in, and instead of dealing with it like an adult, he did what he did best. He ran away.
Keon tried not to recall the expression of hurt on Cassius's face, the downturn of his lips, the scrunched eyebrows.
"I know it's not my business, but—"
"It's not." Keon waved his hand as if to shush Lucky away.
"Pouting solves nothing, my dear friend." Lucky draped an arm around him. "You can always do what normal people do and I dunno, talk to him."
Lucky placed his bulky weight on his tired body. "You're damn heavy. Get off."
"Stop trying to change the subject."
"If you stop being an asshole."
"Someone has to set you straight. Quit being a brat and talk to the guy. You know how he gets when you ignore him." Lucky was right, and Keon hated to admit it.
The last time he avoided Cassius, he followed Keon halfway to the bar and insisted on them talking it out. He must have looked crazy with his disheveled clothes, coat half on and mismatched shoes that pounded the pavement after him. Clones and humans alike were gawking at them in confusion.
As a public figure, he stood out even among the humans. Being on the side the clones or not, a flashy human roaming the streets, clueless and alone, made for easy prey. He wasn't a nobody like Keon. He had a future to think about.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah. I guess—Hey, ow! Did you just bite my ear?"
"Serves you right."
"You're such a fuckin'—"
The bell rang then, signaling the door. They both brightened and quit arguing. Lucky's weight disappeared, although his ear was now throbbing in pain. He was going to pay for it later.
Keon lifted his head, his people-person smile pasted on his face ready to acknowledge the guest, curved lips slipping as soon as cerulean orbs landed on the individual of interest.
Firo. He groaned.
Keon seized the neglected rag and started cleaning the plates from earlier, eyes downcast. They claim if you ignore someone long enough, they will eventually go away. It had yet to help him, but it didn't hurt to try.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Lucky and Firo chatting. They faced each other, heads bent down and voices subdued.
"Keon," Lucky said. His tone was strained.
He glanced up, thrown off by the urgency in Lucky's voice. His outward expression was that of a kicked puppy. Keon peeked at Firo, but he didn't bother to acknowledge him, eyes focused elsewhere.
"Can you follow us upstairs?" Lucky asked.