At the Bar
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- Parts 5
He wasn't supposed to be here-not in this bar, not on this night, and definitely not drowning in memories he swore he'd buried. But something pulled him in, past the neon glow and the scent of aged whiskey, into a place that felt both familiar and foreign.
He only wanted a drink. To disappear into the hum of conversation, to be just another nameless soul lost in the crowd. But then he hears it-a raw, broken voice spilling a confession of love slipping through trembling fingers. A stranger's heartbreak, yet painfully familiar.
As the night unfolds, past and present blur. Regret lingers in the air like the last sip of a forgotten drink, and for the first time in years, he wonders-can love ever truly fade, or does it just wait in the shadows, aching to be found again?
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REVERiE - the man with whiskey
"Well, whatever you do, I'm sure it'll be great," he said, his smile lingering. "You deserve to have an amazing time." His words made me blush a little, and I was about to reply when I felt that familiar prickle on the back of my neck. I glanced toward the corner, where Mr. Whiskey Guy was sitting. Only this time, his gaze wasn't just lingering. It was burning. His eyes were locked on Mark, sharp and intense, and for the first time, I felt a real chill. There was something different about him now, something I couldn't quite name, but it sent a ripple of unease through me. I was about to look away, when he slowly shook his head at me, his eyes burning with something that looked closest to anger. It looked like a warning, and I froze, staring back at him, as he tiled his head, watching me intensely. The fuck? "You okay?" Mark asked, his voice pulling me back to the present. "Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just got a little distracted." Mark nodded, his expression softening as he leaned a little closer. "Well, if you need a break or want to chat, I'm around." He reached out and lightly touched my hand, his fingers brushing mine for just a second, but it was enough to snap me out of the moment. Because across the room, I heard the sharp scrape of a chair against the floor. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. He was now on his feet, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the muscle twitch. His eyes, dark, angry, met mine for the briefest moment, and I swear the air in the room thickened. He didn't say a word, but it made me feel like I fucked up big time. Without a word, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a bang that made everyone in the bar pause for a second.
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