The phrase went round inside Kyotoshi's head, just like it had been every evening for the past month. He supposed he should do something about it. Maybe writing it down would have made it go away, or maybe saying it aloud. Anything but the realization that as the sun started to melt away and cover the city in dirty colours that another day had gone by, another dollar had been spent, and this was all there was to life.

It didn't strike him to get rid of the thought, though.

Kyotoshi was a member of a species that had gotten the dangerous brunt of the current politcal turmoil of the universe. Troops had landed, corraled the occupants of his city and systematicly exterminated anyone connected to the company called Naitec. So he and his sister had seen their parents die. He watched the society he'd grown up in start to cave in on itself, nobody knowing what to do to keep it running smoothly. He'd watched himself cave in, watched his sister leave. He'd watched and told himself that he didn't really mind, because he was still alive and would still survive.

He'd gone a little crazy, no more than anyone else. That was now a year ago. The deaths were a year ago too. His sister was in the past. He had the sneaking suspicion that looking back was what sent him on the downward spiral in the first place. So there was no looking back, he'd decided. The future was blank and startling and filled with uncertainties. A week ago, a few cities away, there had been a firebombing. Maybe it was brought on by the fact there was a show put on by a band that was opposed to the war.

Maybe.

Kyotoshi was an alien, a Hekshanian, born and bred. He was twenty-three when he saw his parents die. Time seemed to roll around like a sick animal since then, making very little sense.

Was he unhappy? Not so much. He had an apartment, albiet small. He had friends, albiet their own problems. He had no money, but he had the means to get it. He was literate, which was more than a good portion of the population now. He had alcohol, he had music and he had his thoughts. He had a girlfriend, just like he had a diary- both were in the past. But he didn't mind.

Where he was now was quiet and softly lit. A small cafe, warm and secure to him. Take a left on Teruia and follow the staircase that used to be red down. It's on the left side of the street and there's no sign. The handrail is metal, that's where the paint flecks off the most and sticks between the fur on your hands.

Kyotoshi was reading, hunched over the bar in the small underground room, a mug fenced between his arms. The words on the page reflected in the liquid, inverted and darker than before. It was quiet, only two other people besides himself and the young looking kid behind the counter. But everyone was young looking, he realized. Eventually they'd all look like their parents did and eventually things might calm down and go back to normal. For the time being, though, he would take it hour by hour, day at a time. Another day gone, another dollar spent on a mug of beer and that was all there was to life.

Maybe it was that and not the actual cafe that made it feel safe and warm, maybe it was the fact that the book he was reading was meant for children and not for adults. It had been translated into over four hundred languages- Hekshanian was one of them. So the story of a girl pulled into a wonderland by a rabbit was being told to the young of his race for about twenty years. Alice in their stories was like them- spade-tailed, tridactyl hind-claws. A bipeadal furred young girl with long tufted ears. Kyotoshi knew that where the story came from, Alice was a Human, just like the ones who'd killed his family.

But he couldn't hate them just for that.

There was music over the small speakers behind the counter. Just a computer, just meant for one person to hear. In the small cafe it was a pleasent background noise. The barely auidable guitar, the lethargic drumline.

The door squeaked as someone pushed it open, Kyotoshi didn't bother to look up or think about who it was. He lifted the mug and sipped slowly, watching over the ceramic rim as the silver furred kid moved behind the counter to track the newcomer in the journey from the door to a seat.

Every individual person has a space around themselves in which they can feel it if someone enters. Kyotoshi felt it as the stranger took the seat next to him, without having to look. It wasn't unpleasent, but then this was his third beer of the evening and very little was. The presence of another living person was comforting. There was life, there was peace and there was tranquility even if outside the door and up the flaking paint there was nothing. Whoever the newcomer was, he spoke softly and with the faintest accent when he ordered. He named something Kyotoshi had heard of only vaguely and only in translated books, a drink called Chai. When it came, it smelled like the warmth Kyotoshi felt and the Hekshanian found himself ignoring his children's story, eyes shut to the scent.

"It smells nice, doesn't it?" His eyes opened when the stranger spoke, Kyotoshi turning to look at the young man next to him. The stranger's voice was soft and warm, like the cafe, like the smell of chai and like the feeling inside of the Hekshanian reading Alice in Wonderland.

The speaker, the chai drinker, was not a Hekshanian. He had the lengthy ears and his body was made out of the same scrawny build that seemed the fate of all of the planet's inhabitants- but his face was elongated, his eyes different. The stranger's hands were thick-fingered tridactyl paws, his tail was short and bushy. His fur was marked unlike any Hekshanian, white socks up to his elbows. He was a light orange, the colour of sunset sky or melted ice cream. He was beautiful, had a shape that teenaged girls made up and giggled about.

Kyotoshi liked the sensation of being next to another living person again, being close without being close. He nodded and smiled, trying to let the smile show how he felt inside. "I never met anyone who actually drank that before," he heard himself saying. His own voice seemed jarring, like it came from far away. Kyotoshi knew, even though he didn't want to, that that was from drinking and not from some mystical warm force protecting the cafe. The orange coloured creature returned the smile and put his mug aside, extending a white furred paw. "My name is Chovek," he said softly. When Kyotoshi extended his hand to shake, there was no firm grip or jolt of greeting. Chovek's fingertips brushed against Kyotoshi's own fur, sliding under the cuff of his jacket.

Even though the Hekshanian knew half of what he felt was due to the beer and half of it to children's stories in warm cafes, he let his mind drift on them for a moment.

So it was another day gone. So another dollar was going to be spent sometime soon. Chovek was speaking to him in a way that was unmistakeable and Kyotoshi had been lonely, even if he didn't know it.

This was all there was to life.

What he enjoyed doing was not destroying or killing or hunting, but making others happy. He became a student of dance about the same time he began to realize that he would never be interested in females of any species. On the move constantly, he was self taught. His father's friends and co-workers were supportive of Chovek, encouraging him to show off during trips through space. They all knew of his preference for men in bed but none of them felt it was unusual. Their people, Rakwulvs, were a very accepting race. He grew up happy and safe.

At eight-teen years old, Chovek confessed to his father that he had been secretly longing to make his own way in the world. His father bid his dancing son a farewell, knowing that in the turmoil of the universe he may never see the boy again.

On his own, the orange cream-furred half-blood decided to begin on the world where the mother he had never known came from. He could not bring himself to hate his mother, nor could he love her. His reasoning here was that you can neither hate nor love someone you have never known. So Chovek moved to Hekshano.

There was little appriciation for the arts but Chovek had a gift that few could deny. The small club where he was hired was packed each night with aliens of every race all longing to watch the beautiful creature in his dances. Sometimes he danced nude, for he had no shame about his body. He knew he was lucky- few half-bloods were beautiful. He had the lightly orange fur of his mother and the light silver hair of his father's clan. He was muscled and graceful and built to glide on air when he danced.

Chovek owned an apartment, well kept for the cities of Hekshano. High above the dirty streets, his hallways were painted and clean. The walls and ceilings where he lived were uncracked, the water running and clear. Chovek's world was a rarity, one that he encouraged others to share with him. He had his pick of men- many of the Hekshanians were indescriminate in who they dated, just seeking companionship. Inevitably, they would leave him alone in his bed, feeling slightly wounded. But Chovek reminded himself that as many times as he felt someone's hands on his shoulders and their hips pressing against his buttocks for the last time, he had made them happy.

After he would finish dancing, the half-blood would wrap himself in a long grey overcoat and find somewhere new to eat and take his chai. He encouraged himself to meet other people- or at least other men.

The cafe he chose on a mild fall day was one that his lover from the night prior had suggested to him. Chovek had liked that man- a Morback with a toned body and wide shoulders and long fangs which he would sink into the back of the half-blood's neck during sex. They would likely meet up again, but neither of them considered the relationship anything near serious. So on the reccomendation of a dark furred alien whose breath was still on the back of his neck, Chovek stepped down the stairs that chipped red paint and entered the cafe.

It was dim, like the daylight wanning outside, but quiet and calm. The host smiled to him and motioned he should take whatever seat he wanted. There were others, three Hekshanians. One was a thin yellow furred young man at the counter reading. The posture he held told Chovek he was both laid back and likely a little drunk, but that was alright. His face was pretty, a grey patch of fur circling his right eye.

Taking a seat on the stool next to the yellow Hekshanian, Chovek felt the fabric of his overcoat slide over the bare fur underneith. He disliked clothing in general, feeling it confined his natural rythem of movement. However, he was a student of modesty as his father had taught and would never strut down the street in the nude.

"What can I get for you this evening?" The host was also a Hekshanian, the long ears and long tail, the same lithe build that must have attracted Chovek's father to his mother.

"Just a chai, please," Chovek was aware that the accent he spoke with was neither Uni nor Hekshanian, but the distinctive slight growl of a Rakwulf. The host took a moment to deciepher the accent before nodding and moving away. The drink came a moment later in a chipped black mug, the half-blood wrapping his thick digits around it and feeling the warmth crawl up his arms. The smell wafted upwards and Chovek inhaled it deeply, savouring it before speaking aloud. "It smells nice, doesn't it?"

He had been speaking to the yellow Hekshanian, the pretty and thin drunk one reading. Glancing slightly at the page, Chovek caught a line that took him a moment to translate from the Hekshanian language into one he understood better. Now I growl when I am happy and wag my tail when I am angry. So I must be mad. The Hekshanian must have felt the eyes on him, must have realized the question was indirectly focused towards him because he looked over, slow a moment.

Chovek liked his face because it was naive and honest. The Hekshanian's hair was unruly and uneven, maybe cut by himself at some point, and hung into his eyes. The eyes themselves were glazed but friendly, a washed-out blue. When the blonde spoke, he had the accent of a native. A slightly dimmed but at least calm and friendly native.

"I never met anyone who actually drank that before," he said, maybe not noticing his eyes drifting away from the chai mug and onto the folds of Chovek's overcoat. From the coat, to the tridactyl pawed feet, to the Rakwulf tail, to the ears from his mother and to Chovek's own face. It was the same trail that the eyes of every Hekshanian boy made over the half-blood's body. First it was curiousity, but by the time they ended on his face they had the very slightest expression of lonliness. That was why Chovek never felt bad for taking them home, or going to their homes. Why when he massaged them with his paws and licked their fur from neck to naval in a straight line, he didn't feel like he was using them. Because they wanted companionship, they wanted someone to love them unconditionally for a little while. So when they pressed down over his back on the bed, Chovek never minded.

Because he knew the look in the alien's eyes, he reached out a hand. Because he knew that Hekshanians were seldom straightforward about what they wanted, he reached inside the yellow furred man's cuff and rubbed the back of his wrist gently. "My name is Chovek." He smiled when he spoke, keeping his hand in place until the Hekshanian moved to respond.

"I'm Kyotoshi...Kyo." He could see Kyo struggling to find some direction for the conversation to take, for curtosy's sake. When the Hekshanian came up with no answer, he simply laughed and reached up his own hand, holding onto Chovek's wrist back.

There was no reason to make Kyotoshi feel bad, as Chovek knew he would the next day if they didn't follow the unspoken rituals of courtship. Hekshanians, he had learned, were experts at giving themselves guilt and grief. The warmth from Kyo's own hand and arm radiated, seeped into the half-blood. He must have been drinking a while and not just here, either, he reasoned. That was alright. If all Kyo wanted to do was fall asleep against him, Chovek didn't mind that either. For the sake of ritual, he touched the pages of the book Kyo was reading with his free hand, smiling as comfortingly as he could. "The book, what is it?"

"Wonderland," Kyotoshi answered, not looking at the book at all. "They banned it, you know. I'm..."

"Tired?" Chovek offered, closing the book with his free hand and then laying it on Kyo's arm, leaning in slightly.

"Yeah..."

"Then I'll walk home with you," he offered. It felt silly, using the same tired lines that he had heard used on girls when he was only a pup. In honesty, he did feel slightly worried about the blonde Hekshanian making the trip on his own. The dimness in his eyes, the warmth off his body and the genuine sincerity of his smile all meant he wasn't in a condition to cope with problems. The police had been getting more aggressive since the firebombing weeks ago.

The Hekshanian looked confused a moment when Chovek leaned against his arm, his eyes locked on the half-blood. Then he smiled, slow and semi-sad like all his race and leaned forward until their foreheads touched and Chovek could smell alcohol on his fur.

"I'm not a little kid."

There was no need for Chovek to respond. Smiling and tugging gently, he pulled Kyotoshi off the bar stool and folded the Hekshanian's book under his arm. Leading the blonde along like he had found a puppy on the playground, Chovek made his way to the door and the chipping painted steps- made his way to the dirty streets and to wherever Kyotoshi would lead him.