Christmas Eve(L)

The last place Felix expected to be at on the morning of the 24th of December was, most certainly, a bar. It was a dingy place with dim lights and alcohol stains ingrained in the creaky wooden floor, and it was absolutely empty saved for him, a random hobo snoring on the couch in the back, and the old owner he couldn't remember the name of even though he'd been coming around quite often, these days.

He must have offered a pretty pitiful sight, really. Greasy, messed up hair, a rag of a coat that barely warded off the cold, and an almost empty glass of pure whiskey in his hand. Felix wasn't drunk – yet – but he was definitely planning on asking for a refill soon, and he promptly downed whatever was left of his drink when his eyes landed for the nth time on the small, pristine envelope that he'd thrown on the counter before him.

Fuck, I need another one.

Felix stared blankly at his now empty glass for what felt like hours before he finally found the strength to look up and ask for another one – only to find himself practically face to face with a complete stranger. The man was quite handsome, and he apparently worked there if the apron was anything to go by, but Felix had never seen him before.

"I'm the new barman," he introduced himself, obviously noticing the confusion written all over Felix's face. He was still leaning on the counter, his chin resting on his palms as he looked right in his eyes. "I'm Lee Minho. What's your name, kitten?"

Felix paused, genuinely taken aback by the pet name, but he then snorted and shook his empty glass at him.

"Give me a refill and I'll tell you."

The barman rolled his eyes but straightened up to grab the bottle of whiskey on the shelf behind him, and he started filling Felix's glass again. He was obviously waiting for him to tell him to stop, but Felix didn't, simply letting him fill the glass to the brim. As soon as he was done, Felix brought it up to his lips and chugged half of it in one go.

Bitter warmth instantly washed down his throat and spread into his chest, and he coughed a little before putting the glass down again.

"Felix," he finally said, rubbing his temple a bit. "The name's Felix."

"Well, Felix, don't you think it's still a little early to celebrate Christmas?"

He snorted again at that. "I'm afraid celebrating is the furthest thing from my mind right now, Lee Minho."

"Why?"

"What's it to you?" he huffed.

"I'm bored. Indulge me," he replied, wiggling his brows.

"So you want to entertain yourself with the greatest pain and sorrow of a random guy you've only just learned the name of, is that it?"

He simply grinned, unashamed. "Pretty much."

"Ugh, fair enough."

Not like Felix had better to do. Who knew? Maybe ranting about his shitty life would help lighten the load on his chest. So, taking another swing of liquid courage, he then decided to spill the beans. What was the worst that could happen, really?

"I'm the heir of a pretty rich and influential family. Daddy's the CEO of a pretty big conglomerate, and mommy's a diplomate. All the works, really! And ever since I was pretty much born, I was raised to become the one who'd inherit my father's business and carry on the family legacy, all the jazz. I've spent years constantly working my butt off to meet everyone's expectations and be the perfect little son." Felix clicked his tongue, sourness filling his mouth as the words spilled out. "And three years ago, I met my fiancée."