Crimson Bonds

6

Feelings

It's nearing 2:00 a.m., when Saifa finally leaves the stage, his body buzzing with the last remnants of energy from the performance. The crowd's applause lingers in his ears like a comforting echo as he sets his guitar down. He stretches, the pull of his muscles a reminder of how much he'd given to the night's performance. A faint sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he wipes it away with the back of his hand, feeling the urge for something to quench his thirst.

Making his way to the bar, Saifa's eyes scan the dimly lit pub. It's a place he knows well, with its warm, homely atmosphere — dark wood, cushioned chairs, fairy lights that softly illuminate the space, and a steady hum of conversation that's quieter now as the night draws to a close.

Behind the bar, Aiman Saleh, the barman and Saifa's friend, is expertly mixing a drink. Aiman's familiar face brings a sense of comfort to Saifa. They've known each other for years, ever since Saifa started doing regular gigs here. The Werewolf works the bar like he's part of the place itself, a permanent fixture in the cosy yet chic pub that draws a crowd almost every night.

Saifa slides onto one of the stools, drumming his fingers against the bar's surface in an unconscious rhythm. He smiles at Aiman as the Werewolf finishes serving another customer and turns to him.

"Hey, Mockinjay! What'll it be tonight?" Aiman's grin is as sharp as ever, his eyes glinting under the low lights.

"Water first, then a pint," Saifa replies, his voice a little raspy from the singing.

Aiman nods, moving with fluid grace behind the bar. As Saifa waits, he lets his mind wander back to earlier in the evening, to the brief encounter he had at the local store a few streets away. The image of Peter — the Tiefling with the sorrowful golden eyes — floats to the forefront of his thoughts.

"Here you go," Aiman's voice pulls him back to the present, a glass of water sliding across the counter toward him.

"Thanks," Saifa says, downing the water in a few large gulps. His throat feels better immediately, but his thoughts remain tangled. He watches Aiman work for a moment before deciding to voice what's been bothering him.

"Hey, Saleh," Saifa starts, causing Aiman to glance up from where he's preparing another drink. "Who's the blonde girl you're always with on campus?"

Aiman's expression shifts slightly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Usually, they don't talk about such things. "That's Anouk. She's my girlfriend. Why?"

Saifa takes a moment, considering his next words carefully. "And the Tiefling she's always with? Peter?"

Aiman's expression relaxes, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, Peter Spinster. He's Anouk's best friend. We're all pretty close."

"Seems like a good guy," Saifa muses, leaning back slightly on his stool. "But... I've noticed he seems really down lately."

Aiman sighs, setting down the glass he's been cleaning. His broad shoulders tense slightly as he considers Saifa's observation. "He's going through a rough time with his boyfriend, Theoden. You know him?"

"Yeah, I know Theoden," Saifa replies, his tone neutral.

"Well, he's an ass," Aiman states bluntly. "He's been messing with Peter's head, and it's wearing him down."

Saifa is about to respond when the pub's door swings open, and in walks Anouk, her blonde hair catching the light. Aiman's face lights up instantly, and he moves from behind the bar to greet her. Behind Anouk, Peter trudges in, looking even more exhausted than when Saifa saw him last.

"Hi, love! What're you doing here? It's late," Aiman says as he envelops Anouk in a warm embrace, his voice filled with affection.

"I wanted to see you," she replies with a bright smile before nodding toward Peter. "And I wanted to get this one out for a change. You know how difficult that is."

Saifa watches as Anouk exchanges a quick kiss with Aiman before her gaze shifts to him. Her sky-blue eyes light up with recognition, and a mischievous smile curls her lips.

"Hello," she says, moving toward Saifa. "You must be Saifa. Aiman talks about you sometimes. I'm Anouk, his girlfriend."

Saifa shakes her extended hand, noting the Solar tattoos on her skin that seem to glow faintly in the dim light. "Nice to meet you, Anouk. Finally meeting the one who's got Aiman so whipped."

She laughs, a clear, infectious sound, before turning her attention to Peter, who's been hovering near the door, looking like he might bolt at any moment.

"Pete'! Come here, introduce yourself!" she calls, her tone both gentle and commanding.

Peter hesitates for a second before he steps forward, his golden eyes meeting Saifa's briefly. "Hey... I'm Peter. We met a few times at the store."

"Yeah, I remember," Saifa replies with a friendly smile, extending his hand.

Peter shakes his hand, his grip firm but quick, like he's eager to retreat back into himself. Anouk quickly steps beside him, wrapping an arm around him as if to keep the Tiefling grounded.

"He's tired," Anouk explains, though there's a protective edge to her voice. "I had to drag him out tonight."

"It's fine," Saifa says, gesturing to the stools beside him. "Join me. It's always better to drink with company."

Aiman returns with drinks for the two of them, placing a whiskey on ice in front of Peter and a cosmopolitan in front of Anouk. Peter takes a sip, grimacing slightly as the alcohol burns its way down his throat.

"How're things?" Aiman asks, his tone light, but his eyes flickering with concern as he watches Peter.

Anouk answers first, but Saifa only half-listens as she talks about school. His attention is divided, his eyes flicking to Peter, who sits silently, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. There's a heaviness around the Tiefling that Saifa can almost feel — a weight that seems to drag him down with each passing second.

Anouk's tone shifts, and Saifa tunes back in, catching the tail end of her words. "...can't take you moping around because of this jerk. Just leave his ass already."

"Maybe she's right, you know," Aiman adds, his voice gentle but firm. "You've tried to talk to him, but it's not working. Maybe it's time to end it, Peter."

Peter's head snaps up, his eyes flashing with a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. "You're all fucking annoying," he mutters, the bitterness in his voice cutting through the warm atmosphere of the pub. "I'll deal with it. And I'm not breaking up over text. That's not fair to me."

He drains the rest of his drink in one go, slamming the glass down on the counter with more force than necessary. Standing up, he grabs his coat and bag, his movements sharp and final.

"I'm going home," Peter announces, already turning to leave. He pauses at the door, glancing back at Saifa with a strange, unreadable expression. "See you when I see you."

And with that, he's gone, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. Saifa watches him leave, a strange warmth blooming in his chest despite the tense atmosphere Peter left in his wake. He glances back at Anouk and Aiman, who are both watching the door with concerned expressions.

"He'll be alright," Saifa says, though he's not sure if he's trying to reassure them or himself. There's something about Peter — something about the way he carries himself, even when he's clearly struggling, that pulls at Saifa. He's not sure what it is, but he knows one thing for certain: he wants to see Peter again, to see if he can help lift some of the weight that seems to be crushing him.

As the night winds down and the pub empties out, Saifa finds himself lost in thought, the image of Peter's golden eyes haunting him in the quiet moments between songs and drinks. There's a storm brewing, he can feel it, and he knows that when it hits, it's going to change everything.