HEY THERE! This is a little fan fiction that I wrote because I'm in a rut and have writer's block on my other account.
For those of you reading this, know that it is a poem fic. I wrote each 'chapter' based on a line from a Shane Koyczan poem. (By the way i recommend looking him up, he's awesome) These chapters are al short, but I hope you keep reading none the less.
Also, this is a modern AU, just so you know, even though it has little precedence.
I let a stranger pour me one more.
She says 'my name is Sara'
Doesn't take much more than that to start a relationship.
My darling, Sara.
-Shane Koyczan 'My Darling Sara'
There was a new girl at the bar today. She looked like a college girl, maybe a near graduate. Her short hair was bright bubblegum pink, and her eyes were some bright color, maybe blue or green - I hadn't gotten a good enough look yet. I was a bit preoccupied with the bottom of my glass. I watched the last drops of the amber liquid settle in a small pool in the bottom. If I was honest, I was surprised to see a young girl as the new barkeep. Situated near the grungiest part of the city, this place wasn't the classiest in the world. Which was why I liked it. No one cared about the scruffy guy at the end of the bar, when everyone else in the joint was just as scruffy. But everyone paid attention to the bright shiny pink fluff that was handing out the drinks.
"Another?"
I looked up to find her smiling softly at me, her tiny hand wrapped around the neck of the scotch bottle. Her eyes were green, like raw uncut emeralds. Silently, I pushed the glass away from me, in her direction.
"You know," she said, getting new ice from what was probably a bucket under the bar. "Usually when a person stares at the bottom of a scotch glass like you've been doing all night, it's because they're looking for something."
She slid the refreshed glass across the polished wood on a napkin, towards me. "What, are you some kind of expert on old drunks or something?"
She chuckled before picking up a rag and wiping down part of the bar where someone had spilled what smelled like vodka. "Or something. But you're no drunk, that much I can tell. And you're not that old either, maybe nine or ten years older than me."
I rolled my eyes at her, and nursed my drink. "Whatever." I muttered to the glass.
"You know, bartenders are practically therapists. With all the things people talk about after they've had a few. Honestly, in the last year of working, I've probably talked three men off a ledge, and saved four marriages." she mused.
"What's your point?" I asked, rattling the ice around the glass.
"My point is that if you need someone to talk to, there's a doctor, patient confidentiality."
"Kiba was never this chatty, why're you?" I asked, wishing that the young man was here instead. He never asked me a damn thing, and at least he and I were friends... Sort of.
The girl shrugged. "Not sure. I'm probably just being nosey." She paused, looking at me for a second before extending her hand. "I'm Sakura."
Giving in, I shook her dainty hand, surprised by how firm her handshake was.
"Kakashi."