Bar Red's Redemption ✔

c h a p t e r. 20

"The sight made her ache. How can I not touch you? she thought hopelessly, and then she was doing it, her fingers on his wrist. He didn't jump or even look at her, just stopped writing. Neither one of them moved, nothing moved, and the whole thing lasted three or four seconds at most, but when Pen took her hand away and started to breathe again, her chest hurt, as though she had been holding her breath for a very long time."
― Marisa de los Santos

Trigger warning for mention of self-harm, suicide, and depression.

I warned everyone at the start of the book that these themes and other possible triggers will be discussed in the book. I'm not good about knowing when to out warnings, but please stay safe you guys when reading my book.

This book is MATURE and will mention things like this throughout it's entirety.

chapter 20

Bar watched from the reflection of his bathroom mirror as dark, tormented eyes blinked back at him. Pinkish lips were pulled into their usual scowl but something about it was off.

Frustration, perhaps? No, this— this was sadness.

He could see it in the way his nose crinkled slightly. The way his eyes were hard and dull. In the way that when he tried to smile, it was hard to.

Something that was a symbol of happiness shouldn't be so unnatural.

But it was.

Confusion was right alongside the sadness, tucked into the corners of his eyes like a well-known secret.

Confusion of how he could ever be loved.

Confusion on if he was a good person or not— and then getting frustrated because he knew he wasn't. Of course, he wasn't.

He is his father's son, after all.

And then, there was the confusion about being kissed... or kissing Clementine.

Did he do that? Why did the memory feel like a dream?

How did he get home last night?

What happened?

Then Bar remembered— fuzzy memories coming into his mind. The pink-haired girl jumping on him, Clementine being jealous, something about llamas and rainbows, a salty cup of water, and... him kissing the little goddess.

Is he remembering that correctly?

God, Bar hoped so. He'll have to ask whenever he could think clearly again.

Sighing— and thinking he's all alone in his apartment— Bar takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth, and then changes into a pair of his boxers and only his boxers.

Running a towel through his hair, Bar walks out of his bathroom and cuts to his kitchen, deciding to grab a small breakfast before he would call Clementine, wanting to know what happened.

His body felt sore in odd places and drained, Bar couldn't help the yawn that escaped his throat.

Bar grunts, his arms stretching over his head and pulling his muscles taut. It shows off his naked, well-defined torso and the countless tattoos covering his arms, chest, and back. The ones on his neck and hands were the only ones without color.

A small groan broke from his lips due to the ache in his head and Bar settled back down into his standing position, hand over his mouth.

Blinking away the drowsiness, he comes face to face— well, more like Clementine's face to his chest since she was so short— with a wide-eyed, gaping little goddess.