Host bar // kazuscara [EDITING]

4

"Hey," Kazuha jerked up at the call, "Aren't you tired, staying here until seven in the night?" it was Scaramouche. He was working up and down, taking care of customers left and right as they place their orders. 

Kazuha was his first customer of the day, he stayed from morning to night, not leaving the bar once.

"Of course not. You're enough to keep me going." Kazuha chuckled, leaving Scaramouche speechless with merely a dry smile.

He would taunt at anyone who flirted with Scaramouche or ones that made him uncomfortable with suggestive comments. He counted his fingers after fending off another crazy customer, that makes it the 9th one. He thought, the 9th time anyone made Scaramouche uncomfortable. 

Scaramouche giggled, "You know, you're like an overprotective boyfriend." he teased Kazuha as he continued to shake the alcohol inside the cocktail shaker. "You're making me lose customers."

Kazuha's ears heated up, but his face stoic without an ounce of emotions. Scaramouche has seen too much of it, so much that he could pick apart everything Kazuha is currently feeling. From the way he lightly swallows, to the subtle straightening of his back. 

"How about you go have some fun while you wait until I finish working, Kazuha?" Scaramouche suggested. Seeing how little fun Kazuha was getting from staying at the bar for 8 hours really killed the purpose of coming to a bar in the first place. Finding love and get wasted was all bars ever really meant, clearly Kazuha was doing none of that. He's downed three bottles of coconut juice already, barely going to the bathroom to experience spiritual relief of the body either.

Kazuha held his forehead, almost as if he was drunk. Of course, downing nearly three bottles of coconut juice is nothing as vigorous compared to even a drop of alcohol. Yet it might be the estranged aroma of alcohol surrounding him, chanting in unison, persuading him to have a taste of their heavenly savor. And with Scaramouche being the barista, the offer becomes evermore enticing.

The chanting invaded his ears louder and louder as his eyes fixated on Scaramouche.

"A glass of rum, please." 

The barista turned his head to his customer, glaring at him with obvious doubt. 

He turned, putting his elbows on the empty space between the bar and the counter. Inching his face closer to Kazuha. 

"You can't drink." 

Kazuha shifted himself in his tall seat, annoyed, "I understa-" 

"Are you sure?" Scaramouche warned, "Rum has about 40% distilled spirits, which is 40% alcohol. You're not ready."

Kazuha glared back at him, 

"Yes, I am ready." 

His stern tone contrasted his placid expression, and he almost believed the man in front of him that he'd be well prepared if it wasn't for his dusted cheeks even without a drop of alcohol.

"I'll pour you a glass of rum, alright." Scaramouche scoffed, seeing that Kazuha had never specified what kind of rum he'd like, he added a few of his favorite formulas to spark the boring color of rum just by a bit. An orange gradient fading down to blue, a lime stuck onto the rim of the glass, and a tiny oilpaper umbrella just adding to the scenery.

Kazuha simply stared at the man in front of him, realising just now how much of life that's gone unnoticed in the simplest of people. The way he worked his profession; hands swerving around the bar like it was his second home, the way he'd push his hair back at times and rock his hips, and the way he smiled at each passerby, even if they never returned the gesture.

He could watch him for eternity if it's the last thing he'll do. Every time he'd smile, Kazuha would have an unwavering urge to smile with him. Like a little boy having candy for the first time, or a prisoner seeing the sunrise for the first time in years. It felt etheral, and he never wants this ballad to stop. 

He took the rum, and thanked Scaramouche. 

It reminded him of summer beaches. Like the blue ocean crashing against the orange sand, with beach umbrellas stuck firmly in the soft sand, blocking shade with a soothing breeze that tickles the skin. Kazuha has never been to a beach. But looking at his glass, he could almost say he has seen all the beaches, far and beyond.

It was eight, and Scaramouche was getting ready to attend his usual duties as a host. He changed from his dirty barista apron to a brand new suit that his manager left him. A simple shirt with a white tie, along with a pair of suit pants. 

Exiting the dressing room, a strange sensation of two snake-like arms hugged him from behind. 

"Who are you?" he asked,

"mm," the man responded, he's drunk. He can't get himself an answer verbally. 

A streak of pure white hair intruded his vision, Kazuha. he thought, of course, he just downed a glass of rum, and he isn't one suitable to drink something as intense as rum. He sighed.

"Come on, I have work to do. I'll come after my work is done, alright?" Scaramouche explained, trying to talk himself out of this situation.

Nothing from the other side. 

"I'll go grab some more coconut juice while you wait?" He suggested, but the grip unfortunately tightened. 

"no..." Kazuha groaned,

"I'll be late for the first client if you keep doing this, Kazuha." 

"Then I'll be your first client." 

Scaramouche turned his head almost immediately, did he hear what Kazuha said properly? First client? he must've heard wrongly. He must be playing a sore prank on him, next thing you know he bursts out laughing and mocks him on how priceless his expression was. Drunk people do that, they do whatever comes into their mind first thing.

But that never happened. Kazuha was staring at him, face all red from drinking rum, hands still gripping at his waist tightly. He realized the intimate position they were in now and tried to wriggle out with no success. 

He sighed, "Kazuha, are you sure you want to be my first client? This isn't a hostess bar, you realize that?" giving Kazuha the last warning before the worst happens.

"Yes, I want to," Kazuha whispered into Scaramouche's ear before plopping down on Scaramouche's shoulder and dozing off again soundly despite the constant blasting of rock music coming from the bar. 

Scaramouche's face went all red after Kazuha unknowingly flirted with him. Oh, how he hated and loved that man. He can be as cute and clumsy as he wants to, but in the dark, he can be as flirtatious as he wants to. 

He slid Kazuha onto a seat nearby and sat beside him. Usually, he'd be the one to harshly reject anyone who dared cross their borders; unable to differentiate between doing business and true love. He would've had the heart to leave Kazuha hanging dry that like, especially after making such an unfair request; but he couldn't. Something within reminded him to play along with Kazuha. Like a curse, he followed the little voice inside his mind uncontrollably. 

He watched Kazuha sleep, watching his every breath. The way he breathes in with his mouth and exhales with his nose. His back slightly bloating and deflating when he breathes in and out. His white eyelashes fluttering when he switches to deep sleep. His rebellious red streak of hair stood out especially in his otherwise pure platinum hair. Scaramouche tucked a piece of falling hair behind his ears, and tirelessly watched him just sleeping. 

It'd be a lie to say he isn't afraid of breaking his own rules.

----

ok aside from scaramouche going insane i might be going insane as well. An update a day I'm sorry i just wanna know what happens to these two in the end myself. 

EDITED

1317 words