The neon lights flickered above the bar, casting a dim glow over the worn wooden tables and scattered patrons. It was a typical Friday night at The Forge, a dive bar tucked away on a quiet street in downtown Musutafu. The regulars came for the cheap drinks, the quiet atmosphere, and, most of all, the bartender.
Behind the bar stood Marceline Todoroki, her dark cherry red hair falling in waves over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her pale, dull blue eyes. She wiped down the counter with a practiced hand, her movements steady and unhurried. Marceline was used to this life—dealing with the broken, the lost, and the drunk. She saw them all, and none of them fazed her. Except for one.
Ruin sat slumped in a corner booth, staring at the half-empty glass of whiskey in front of her. Her brown hair, disheveled and unkempt, fell into her face, hiding her wolf-like ears that twitched ever so slightly at the sound of the jukebox playing an old, sad tune. She looked out of place—too attractive, even in her rumpled office clothes, to be sitting there like a washed-up loser. But here she was, night after night, hiding behind the bottom of a bottle.
She had been an office worker for years now, stuck in a dead-end job that sucked the life out of her day by day. The stress had gotten to her, and somewhere along the line, alcohol had become her crutch. A couple of pills to numb the anxiety. A few too many drinks to forget the rest. Her once dominant, confident nature had eroded into something quiet and timid. She barely spoke, and when she did, it was with a soft, shy voice that never quite matched the person she used to be.
But Marceline had noticed her from the beginning.
"Another drink?" Marceline's voice cut through Ruin's foggy thoughts.
Ruin looked up, blinking slowly as she registered the bartender in front of her. Marceline leaned against the counter, her dark red hair falling over her shoulder, her eyes steady and unreadable. Ruin swallowed, her throat dry. She always got nervous around Marceline. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because Marceline saw right through her. Or maybe because she was devastatingly beautiful in a way that made Ruin's heart ache.
"I... yeah, please," Ruin muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Marceline poured another glass of whiskey, sliding it over to Ruin with ease. "You come here a lot," Marceline said, her tone neutral but curious. "Trouble at work?"
Ruin hesitated, her fingers wrapping around the glass. She could feel the warmth of the alcohol already buzzing in her veins, but it wasn't enough to drown out the weight pressing on her chest. She wasn't sure how to respond. She never knew what to say around people like Marceline—people who seemed to have their lives together, people who weren't falling apart at the seams.
"Yeah," Ruin finally mumbled, her eyes dropping to the drink in her hand. "Just... work stuff."
Marceline's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Ruin. She could see the exhaustion, the frustration, the self-loathing all packed into one small, quiet sentence. There was something about this girl—this wolf-quirked, broken office worker—that intrigued her. She wasn't like the other sad drunks who stumbled into her bar. Ruin had a vulnerability to her, a rawness that drew Marceline in.
"You ever think about quitting?" Marceline asked, her voice soft but direct.
Ruin huffed a small, humorless laugh. "Every day. But I... I don't know. What else is there?"
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Marceline leaned back against the bar, crossing her arms. She was used to seeing people at their lowest, but something about Ruin's quiet resignation bothered her more than usual.
"There's always something else," Marceline said, her voice steady. "You just haven't found it yet."
Ruin looked up at her, her brown eyes meeting Marceline's dull blue ones for the first time in what felt like forever. There was a sincerity in Marceline's gaze that caught her off guard, a softness she didn't expect. It made her heart beat a little faster, made her feel something other than the numbness she'd grown accustomed to.
"I don't know," Ruin whispered, her ears twitching slightly in nervousness. "I'm not good at... changing."
Marceline smiled faintly, the corner of her lips lifting ever so slightly. "I could help with that," she said, her voice taking on a teasing edge.
Ruin's face flushed, her breath catching in her throat. She wasn't sure if Marceline was joking, or if there was something more behind the words. The warmth in her chest spread, not just from the alcohol, but from the attention Marceline was giving her.
"You're... you're always so kind," Ruin mumbled, barely able to look at her.
"Maybe I'm just interested," Marceline replied, leaning in slightly. Her voice was low, intimate, as if they were the only two people in the bar. "You're different. Quiet, but not broken."
Ruin's heart pounded in her chest, her hands shaking slightly. She wasn't used to anyone paying her this kind of attention. Most people looked past her, seeing only the shy, awkward woman she'd become. But Marceline looked at her like she saw something more—like she wanted to know the parts of her Ruin tried to bury.
"I'm... I'm not sure what you mean," Ruin stammered, her shyness overwhelming her.
Marceline tilted her head, her cherry-red hair falling over her shoulder as she smiled softly. "You don't have to be. Maybe you'll figure it out if you come back tomorrow night."
Ruin's face turned a deeper shade of red, her pulse quickening at the suggestion. She nodded, biting her lip nervously. "Yeah... maybe."
As Marceline walked away to tend to another customer, Ruin watched her, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement. For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like a complete failure. Maybe, just maybe, there was something left of her that was worth saving.
And maybe Marceline was the one who could help her find it.
