Langour ・❥・Joost Klein・❥・

7.

'What was that?'

The man turned as the bartender placed Fenne and Joost's drinks on the bar. Any sign of playful shoving was gone.

The man had dark hair and wore a tracksuit with a hard sheen in his eyes. As he turned to the person who dared to tell him what to do, Fenne unknowingly stepped back into Joost's chest.

'I said "can you be careful?". You just knocked into her,' Joost spoke with a tone that Fenne was yet to hear from him. From where she stood, she could see a deep frown on his lips and unblinking eyes. It was a stark difference from the Joost Klein she saw hakken on stage and smiling widely with an adorable blush on his cheeks.

'Maybe she should move, then,' the man spat, barely sparing Fenne a glance.

Confrontation was not Fenne's strong suit. She didn't like fights or arguments, and from the discomfort the two girls behind the daring man showed, they didn't either. But Joost's arm stayed in-between Fenne and her assailant with his hand now gripping the bar's edge.

Fenne's old drink that he had brought with him had been disgarded and despite not meeting her eye, Joost's left hand stayed firmly on her side. A glare settled onto his features Fenne could feel his hammering heart against her back.

'You should apologise,' Joost said, unmoving.

'And you should take your drink and go, mate.'

'Is there a problem, here?'

Fenne looked to the bartender who lingered in front of them. Their drinks were waiting to be taken and the bartender had noticed the hostility. His eyes flickered between the two men before focusing on Fenne for an answer. She swallowed and realised that security could be on their tail if the bartender saw an issue at his bar.

'Joost, just forget it. Let's go,' she turned with his drink in one hand. If she could distract him with his pint, then maybe they could leave without being escorted out.

A breath between them, Joost tore his eyes away to look down at the girl in-between his arms. The anger boiling in his chest simmered at Fenne's large, green eyes staring up at him. Besides their effect on his building fury, Joost took note of the plea in her expression and the fizzing beer in her hand.

'Ben, you should say "you're sorry",' one of the girls on the other side of the commotion was heard. The man turned around briefly, entering into a short and clipped conversation. This gave Fenne the time to take her own drink and take a leap of faith in the dire situation.

She took the hand that was on her waist and slipped her fingers in-between his. Fenne didn't wait for the man to apologise. She weaved through the crowd while pulling Joost by his hand, feeling some resistance at first, before her arm went slack at his compliance.

Exiting to the outside area was blessing. The stuffiness of the bar and the commotion made for a unplesant air, but the warmth breeze of the night lessened the tense sensation in Fenne's shoulders.

She made sure they were far from the door before she stopped. Much to her dismay, the hand in hers dropped and the cling of a lighter cap flipping open sounded. Fenne turned to see the Heineken she paid for on a nearby table and Joost lighting up a cigarette. He cupped his hand around the flame, allowing Fenne to see the '1983' tattoos on his fingers, before he raised his head again to exhale the smoke.

Joost shoved the lighter back into his pocket and smoke clouded his face. The lit end moved like a firefly as the same hand grabbed his beer, before Joost's eyes flickered up to land on Fenne's face. Blowing out through the side of his mouth, he held out his free hand.

'O-Oh, I don't smoke,' Fenne said, thinking that he held an unlit cigarette that she couldn't see.

'I know,' Joost replied while sounding surprisingly calm. 'I want to hold your hand again.'