Between the Lines

Chapter One: Part One

When two of his friends invited him over to join for a drink after a movie night out, Zachary was not expecting himself to be brought into a place that was so... alien to him. He should have backed out the moment he saw the entrance of a nightclub but since he was doing the favour to accompany them, Zachary had to tuck in his face and go for it. Though of course they asked if he was comfortable or not to go along, Zachary thought he could at least show a simple gesture of thanks for paying all of his expenses for their day out.

It was supposed to be a double date, or something along that way. Although both of his friends didn't quite tell him straight away, Zachary had figured out they're both dating each other and he just so happened to be close enough with them to be trusted to keep a look out for their backs as the third wheeler. It didn't sound like a bad idea until Nathan said he had to bail out last minute for whatever reason it might be and Zachary wouldn't want to dwell much into it. It wasn't an unfamiliar thing Nathan would do, though it had become quite frequent recently.

As any club establishment, they were security that they have to pass through before gaining an entrance into them. It was surprisingly easy to enter without any hitch, provided that Zachary seemed to look older than his actual age. Apparently, growing a bit of a hair on his face was just enough to set his look to be older, not that he was complaining. Give it a few months, okay, at least a year, he won't have to rely on the fake ID shenanigans that his friends set him in anymore. Zachary won't lie that he almost pissed his pant looking at the burly tanned skin man that was patrolling the door, his muscles bulging out from his black shirt as if ready to burst with just a small flex.

As much as he tries looking into it, Zachary had concluded that he wasn't really particularly interested of the club's scene. Of course, there's an appeal to it that he gets why people crowded the place, but he's more into a laidback kind of scenery for a drink or two such as bar or pub that served food alongside alcoholic beverages, like his father's bistro. It usually open by lunch hour and close around midnight. When the drinks came, a clearheaded Zachary took in his surrounding of the patrons of the club. He wasn't very familiar what type of club they were in and in fact, didn't knew that it was here at all. There weren't a lot of female patrons but mostly sweaty skin-clad men dancing and grinding over each other. Over the stench of alcohol and sweat, it wasn't appealing much to him. Once in a while, he caught some of them staring at him, which he often would jerk his face to other direction, uncomfortable by the sudden attention he was given.

The fact that he hadn't have a high alcohol tolerance, it didn't take Zachary that many to fall into his drinks. His attention around him was already wavering, and it had been an hour since those his friends left for the restroom to "relieve" themselves. Staring at their empty chairs aimlessly, he wondered how one could lose themselves in the such place for that long.

Zachary chugged down the sixth pint of beer he had down to its froth. The sour, bitter taste of the beverage wasn't going down easy for him at all, even when he knew it had been watered slightly. For someone of his age – and despite his low tolerance – he knew well how a good beer should be, even when it wasn't his first choice of alcoholic drinks. And besides, it was free and he knew well that both of his friends weren't going to be able to pay more than they could if he started ordering anything else. Speaking of which, he was getting unnerve why it took those two too long, and left him waiting at the club's bar alone.

It was definitely a new experience for him to be in the range of attention in the bar, with few of the men actually coming towards him and try to sweet talk him over the smells of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol mixed in together. He wasn't particularly comfortable when eyes are set on him, though being intoxicated, Zachary found it was somehow a bit enthralling. As another guy came to give him an overused compliment, Zachary raised his hand gesturing him away, hoping it was polite enough to keep him away and Zachary from another breather.

Shaking his head as if it was going to make the aftertaste of the beer go away, Zachary leaned over the bar just as a red-haired bartender made his way towards him.

"Oi boy," the bartender greeted him.

Zachary managed to read the tag on his shirt that spelt Patrick. Seems fitting since he enunciated almost every word with a slight Scottish accent.

"Yer gent the'e just lifted yer tabs. Quite a luck for ye punks."

The bartender winked at Zachary and reached out to take the empty pints off the counter, who stared confusingly in return before lazily gazed towards the man across the bar.

One thing that Zachary noticed when he had his sight on the man was how well he dressed. Unlike most of the patrons in the club, the man was suited from tip to toes; dark suit was sleek over his body, hugging it comfortably, as if stitched to his body in a perfect form.

Moving towards his face, Zachary could feel a sudden burst of colour over his already red-flushed face as the man raised a glass and gave him a smile, mouthed something over his curved lips before returning back facing the bar where another bartender poured him another drink.

"Enjoy your night," Zachary repeated softly to himself as his eyes still locked onto the man.