Someone to Love

Short

The young man at the corner of the bar didn't know that he was being watched. He was half-leaning against the stool behind him, casting a glance around the low lit room of grinding bodies and peeling paint in search of a destination.

His dark, roving eyes happened across a male figure that smiled and waved enthusiastically from the outskirts of the throng. He flashed a bright smile and pushed off from the stool. Another male figure, unnoticed, watched intently as his dark brown head bobbed and weaved its way toward its destination.

He didn't know that he loved him. He didn't even know if he knew him. But he knew him, and that was all that was important to him.

He came in every Friday night, with a clean shave and well dressed, starting in just the same way that most of the establishment's patrons did: sober. He was unlike the others in that he stayed that way, and he still had fun – or did a good enough job pretending that no one seemed to mind.

There was group he regularly came in with, mostly girls, though who in the group he came with on any particular night always changed. He had been surprised the first time he realized that he never made any moves on any of them, even after their drinks had started to blur their awareness of personal space. In fact, he had even seen him mildly brush one or two of them off when they had gotten a little too friendly.

It seemed that he had appointed himself the protector of these women, a brotherly figure who they all seemed to rely on, and he admired that in him. Envied it, too, in a way – men had always been the bad guys in his life, and he was a little bitter that he had never known this man who seemed so different from all of the others.

Some days he dreamed that perhaps his life would have led to a happier place if he had met this man. Others he saw himself encountering him, somewhere far away from the dingy old club that was their regular rendezvous point, and he would stink of alcohol and malign him.

He was jolted from his ruminations as he realized that he was about to pass his table. Most of his observations thus far had been from afar, and the idea that he would see him now, close enough to touch, halted the breath in his lungs, though not before the strong scent of his spicy cologne reached his nose and set his body ablaze. His eyes locked on him as he saw him for what was really the first time.

Most striking were his eyes – he had always known they were dark, but this close they looked like splashes of the starry night sky circumscribed by dual fans of kohl lashes. Set below those dark jewels were high, wide cheekbones and a slender jaw, lending to him a rather feminine look. His crooked nose and thin lips saved him from being too pretty, while his obstinate chin dared judgment. He found himself hypnotized as his slender frame passed him.

He didn't know that he loved him. He didn't need him to; He was just happy to have someone to love.