It was an unsurprisingly rowdy evening at the bar, to say the least. Many were celebrating tonight, cheering together in arms with alcohol filled beverages in hand. Every now and then, friends would encourage each other to knock back a couple of shots, followed by roars of laughter in the dimly lit room. Party hats and horns were a plenty. The people inside simultaneously watched the clock ticking louder than usual on the wall, and the television next to it broadcasting a live screening of the countdown to new years.
With a cloth in hand, Desmond continued to dry the inside of a washed glass cup. After a full shift of work and the last few hours spent pushing himself to the limit to serve the last dozen handful of thirsty customers, everything eventually cooled down. His back ached, feet were numb and his arms started to throb, but Desmond was content. All the patrons ignored him and were now paying close attention to the glowing box on the wall like little flies, which meant no costumers were complaining to him for a lousy nights service. Which also meant Desmond did a good job, and he felt he deserved some alone time.
His eyes slide to the dusty, neon lit clock hanging on the wall, squinting. "Hmm, fifteen more minutes," he mutters to himself, shaking his head, "and it'll be like the fourth of July here all over again."
The chill air of the outdoors is instant, Desmond takes heed of the door being opened but not the person that walks through. 'Another one at this hour?' he thought with a brief, delicate glance at the persons lower half, and back again. Calmly, the stranger approaches Desmond and takes his seat on the worn bar stool. In turn, Desmond takes a quick, deep breath, forcing to relax himself. He didn't want to really deal with another one right now, he wanted his "five minute" break to himself, wanted the others on his shift to come back from the storeroom from celebrating together when he so volunteered to keep an eye on the bar.
Oh right.
Well, it's just the last few minutes.
"Hey," Desmond smiles, "what can I get you?"
The stranger is quiet at first, all was hidden under that tattered black hood of his save for the small stubble on the chin of his tanned face. His black locks of hair poked through, shielding his eyes. He looked pretty menacing and scruffy, but Desmond was not unfamiliar. He was pretty sure he had gotten a few odd looks here and there when he wore his set of clothing outside. The mysterious man flicked his wrist at Desmond, didn't even bother to look at him.
"Don't care," his voice was deep, "give me the cheapest thing you got."
The stranger turned his head to the crowd behind him who were glued to the television. All were being loud and unruly, as if they were trying to top who could generate the loudest noise with their tiny party horns. Desmond put his glass and table-cloth down, getting straight to work. He couldn't see his face, but he no doubt knew the man was sneering. 'A regular Scrooge huh,' he rolls his eyes, pouring the liquid into a short glass and placing it onto the bar.
"Here," Desmond says, calling the man's attention,"cheapest thing we got."
He looks at it for moment, before the stranger grabs the cup and chugs the water down in one swift gulp and sets it back down. Desmond cringes at the sight, being careful not to be elaborate. "That was weak." the man comments, almost growling.
Desmond nods, "You did say the cheapest thing."
"Another then," the stranger huffed, and automatically Desmond sets another drink. The man turns to the crowd once more, "what are these poor idiots so cheery about?" he grumbles.
Desmond raises a brow, 'So I was right about the whole Scrooge thing,' he wants to chuckle, "Well it is new years eve, pal. Time for celebration, time for a new start," he pushes the newly made drink forwards to the man, who watches a scene of two drunkards are falling over each other and laughing, "time to get drunk off our asses too."
"So it seems," the stranger smirks and downs his second glass as easily as his first, "didn't even realise we'd come to the end of another year actually. Too bad I'm not in a festive mood, or all this togetherness and smiles might actually make me believe tomorrow will be any different. Or the next days even."
Desmond is wise enough not to make a remark on that, and tries to create another topic of interest. "You don't sound like you're from around here. You're not from around here, are you?" It was a stab in the dark, but a common question Desmond always asked to any new face.
The man finished his drink, and answered coolly. "No."
It didn't sound like the man wanted to continue, so that topic was instantly dropped. Desmond mind raced to think of a new one, before his thoughts were disrupted by the enormous cries of the other patrons inside shouting off to the new year, and the television that highlighted all the fireworks and glittering lights of the city where other people embraced the night. Streamers were instantly pulled, creating colourful ribbons in the air and tangling in various places. The fireworks were so noisy that Desmond could hear them outside from where he stood. People kissed and hugged one another, all in the name of the new beginning.
Desmond smirked, watching over the happy and lively ones, "Happy new year, huh?" he shrugged, "Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt if I should somehow start celebrating this..." he lost track of his words the moment he noticed the stranger now staring at him. His hood pulled back slightly revealing his weary but attentive eyes. The man was not scruffy looking as Desmond previously imagined. In fact, the man looked as young as himself, maybe even younger. His dark olive coloured skin complimented the long lashes of his eyes and plump lips, completing an exotic look. Dusky, abysmal eyes seemed to lock on to Desmond's face, but not on to his eyes. Rather, just down below them, at Desmond's scarred lips.
The stranger kept staring, fixated as if he had zoned out into a daydream like state. It made Desmond flushed slightly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze very uncomfortable. He had stopped during mid sentence so his lips were parted, and so he slowly pressed them back with a nervous cough. The stranger did not flinch or falter back. He slowly withdrew himself and simply closed his eyes, reopening them to look at Desmond with a warm smile. Desmond felt his face heat more, felt paralyzed and unmovable. As if there was something magnetic drawing him to this person. Like he was trapped, and there was no escape.
The noise of a door in the distance, around the back, vibrated through the air as it swung open. People's voices called after, with someone running down to the front of the bar. The bars divider was pushed over, and Desmond felt strong arms wrapping around him and pulling into a tight embrace.
"Happy new years buddy!" a male voice screamed into his ear, "Aww yeah, boy I'm going to make the most of this year I swear, no more gambling debts for this one."
The wind was taken out of him, but Desmond couldn't help but laugh dryly, trying to pull away, "Yeah yeah, that's great Travis. Mind screaming into my other ear was well? I don't think I'm fully deaf yet."
Travis playfully stuck his tongue out, "What ever man, it's freakin' new years!" he lets go and nudges Desmond, "You should be in the back with me and the rest going crazy and shit! We're going to start a drinking game after we clear out too."
"And if I was to join you guys, who would be minding the bar, huh?" Desmond says, folding his arms.
"Ahh, you're no fun." Travis waved him off.
"Alright, alright. Fine, I'll catch up with you guys in a bit if you help me out here a little, deal?"
"Deal!" Travis affectionately grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed him.
Desmond watched him run off and join the others, smiling tiredly. He turned to look back at his latest companion, expecting him to have minded his own business. Only now he finds out that he had vanished during his banter with Travis. Desmond clocked his head left and right, even trying to peek over the crowds if he could spot the man, if he had lingered about still. But nothing, the man was simply gone. Desmond was left a little saddened, but he shrugged it off seconds later anyhow.
'Ahh shit, his tab...' Desmond frowned, teeth gritting. He sighs, gazing down to the bars surface, but he notices something out of place. He's pulls out the paper tucked under a coaster and is met with the historical figure face of Benjamin Franklin. His eyes widen, 'Holy shit! That can't be...could it be from...him?'
Desmond tries to remember his face, the way the stranger looked and everything that transpired between them in the short amount time they had. Every little detail seemed to run away from him, but he catches them. He catches on and tries to block out the noise around him. The soft almost doe like eyes, and rich skin of colour on the man. Desmond kept mixing him up with the countless other costumers he had encountered, but then he remembers the last thing from him. Something that felt almost all too important now. His kind smile.
Desmond shivered, 'Geez, what the hell is wrong with me?'
From the corner of his eyes, he spots Travis at the other end of the bar with some pretty girls. He starts waving at him, ushering him to come over. He shakes his head at Travis and his flirtious behaviour, then smirks. Desmond turns to the bill in hand for a second, before stashing it away safely and walking over. What little he could remember of the stranger now and what transpired, is now blocked away for the rest of the night.
Author's Note: (Posted with no beta) I saw some where another person with the same idea (had no idea) after I had finished writing this chapter, but my take on is actually a whole lot different so I'm comfortable with posting this now. I don't honestly know where I'm going with this, but I just had to write about it a bit even. Not even sure if I'll have an end, but it's gotten some of my interest.