I heard a lot of people want some Doc...
The place reeked of sweat and alcohol, but it was a bar, what'd you expect? You walked in expecting it to be packed, but there was barely anyone here. Just a few lonely people having a few drinks, you looked around, locking your eyes on a man, his eyes so tired.
You sat down three seats away from him, and ordered a martini. You couldn't help but look at him, observe him and judge him. But, this time it pained you. He looked so sad, eyes red and puffed up, and he looked so scared. He was shaking. You couldn't hear the bartender.
"(Y/N), sugar are you okay?" you turned, apologizing as the bartender just smiled handing you the drink. You stood from your chair, striding over to the lonely man, and sat next to him.
You noticed that he shifted in his seat as you sat down. You had hoped your presence didn't disturb him.
"You've been through a lot, haven't you?" You took a sip, and pierced the olive with a toothpick. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Yes," that was the only the answer you got. Silence had taken over the conversation, but it was a terrible feeling. His voice, so pained and it was so strained. The silence had gotten to you.
"My name's (Y/N)," you looked over but he just stared at his empty glass, "what's yours?"
He never looked at you, "Gustave."
"Gustave, how you've been?" You tried to start a conversation.
"I-it's, it's so sad here. So sad living here."
You furrowed your brows, a response you tried to prepare for.
"Gustave, you can talk to me about it, b-but only if you want to. Since, I'm a stranger, but you can talk to me. I'm here for you." He glanced at you, the tears subsiding, and his breathing slowed down at a steady pace.
"There's nothing to talk about." Dead, his voice sounded so dead.
"Everyone comes here for a reason, this bar is a place for hurt people, trust me, I know. You can trust me, I go here all the time."
"I'm a doctor, (Y/N)..." he finally locked eyes with yours, and they widened, "my friends..." he couldn't continue.
"Molly!" The bartender looked at you, waiting for the order, "get him some water!" She nodded at you, saluting in a joking way.
"Molly's gunna get you some water, alright?"
He sniffed, "thank you, thank you (Y/N)."
You were surprised at this, but you smiled at him to reassure him that everything would be okay.
"Anytime."
"I'll tell you," He dryly chuckled, "maybe if I get this off my chest it would be better."
"My comrades, we just went on an operation."
"Gustave, what'd you mean, operation?"
"I'm in the GIGN, a counter-terrorist unit." You nodded, taking another sip of the martini.
"The hostage, a girl..." Molly handed him the glass of water and he gulped it down, "they hit her." You felt yourself slowly lose control, anger and sadness boiling up.
"We don't know if she's going to do die or not, she's in a coma." He choked on his words, "the stress just keeps building up. It feels like a pile of bricks on my back, and it hurts."
"Have some more water," Molly handed another glass. You didn't know what to say, but you asked for a whole bottle of vodka, and two shot glasses.
"Stress is such a killer, isn't it?" He locked eyes with you again, and it made you freeze, silent. The words had hit you, they were so familiar.
"Yeah, it really is, I can understand." You broke eye contact.
"I can't stop thinking about her, I could've saved her from the coma if I was a minute earlier, just a fucking minute..."
"You've seen a lot too, haven't you, friend?" You took the glasses, pouting equal amounts of alcohol into them, sliding one to offer Gustave a shot. He took it.
"I've seen too much, but it's my job. I want to help people."
"Sometimes, it doesn't work out right."
"That's what I hate about it..." he made eye contact with you, "it took away my youth." He broke it.
Silence then dreaded the conversation, and you poured another shot glass, just for yourself.
"But," Gustave stopped, and you turned to look at him, "why are you here? (Y/N), why did you say you always come here?"
You stopped, brows furrowing in worry, but you hid it with a nervous smile. He smiled back, making your heart flutter.
"You can also trust me, (Y/N)," he chuckled, making you sigh.
"I just, don't know what to do with my life," You mumbled, leaning your cheek against your hand, "I have a job, sure, but I don't have any idea what I want as my career."
"Continue, (Y/N), I'm here."
"And, I live far from my home, and I don't want to tell my mom that I'm struggling because then, then she'll give me money. I don't want myself to be a burden for her," you poured yet another glass, "but I know she loves me, and I love her too much to struggle with me."
"Drink some water," he offered, but you just shook your head.
"I'm fine, it's alright," there was a moment of silence, "that's why I never let my family gather in my apartment, they don't even know I live in an apartment." You chuckled, the alcohol stinging your throat.
"I guess we both have problems, yeah?" Gustave laughed, making eye contact with you.
"Yeah, we do. Every comes here for a reason."
He grinned, "(Y/N), I have to go, it's pretty late and I have work tomorrow," he sighed, "will I see you again?" The question slightly made you sit up straighter, and you raised your brows.
"Yeah, same time, same place, I'll be here, and we can talk, got it?" You smiled at him, leaning on your hand again.
"Got it," he stood by the door, and turned around, "thank you, (Y/N)." He left, and you were alone at the table with just a few lonely men, sulking, and a few performers, singing a tune.
{end}
