Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Yu Yu Hakusho, any related characters or merchandise, and make no profit from the writing or distribution of this work of fiction.
Lips on his neck, hands splayed across his bare chest. Hot breath ghosting over his shoulders, fingers creeping steadily downwards.
Annoyed, Urameshi Yusuke pushed the bodies away and stood. Amidst girlish whines and pleas to return, he threw the door open and stalked down the narrow hallway, angrily buttoning his leather pants.
"Hey, Urameshi," one of his band mates called out as he barged into the large backstage common-room. "We were just about to draw lots to see who got to go and break up the party. We're on in ten."
Yusuke only grunted noncommittally as he picked up his guitar and began tuning it. Over his head, his band mates exchanged curious glances.
Once on the stage, Yusuke absently fingered his first chord, plucking the strings automatically, eyes sliding disinterestedly over the blur of faces in front of him, one ecstatic expression blending easily into the next until he could no longer distinguish any individuals.
Unexpectedly, a flash of red caught his eye, and for the first time in a very long time, Yusuke found his gaze fixed on a single person in the crowd. Of all people, it was the bartender who had captured Yusuke's attention: a trim, neat figure with blazing red hair, inconspicuous in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, vest buttoned neatly, defining his slim waist in sleek lines.
He looked up only once, as the band was finishing, and his eyes caught Yusuke's in dazzling emerald. Walking backstage again, Yusuke barely registered his own movements, working dazedly to replace his guitar in its case and quaff a bottle of water.
The bass player nudged him roughly. "Finish up, Urameshi. This club closes soon, and we're gonna head off to find somewhere we can party."
Those piercing green eyes flashed through his mind again, and Yusuke vaguely heard himself answer, "You guys go on ahead. I'm all partied out."
Their lead guitarist and vocalist chuckled. "Yeah, whatever. Meet us back at the hotel?" he called back over his shoulder as they filed out. Yusuke only nodded and lay down on the couch, pressing the cool bottle to his forehead and trying to forget those eyes. He fell asleep in a sea of green.
Some time later, the haunting strains of a familiar classical piece roused him, and Yusuke followed the sound until he found himself back onstage, watching the bartender play the piano there, his hair bright against the polished wood. As he stood, watching silently, the name of the melody occurred to him.
"'Moonlight Sonata'," he said, his voice echoing in the empty club, and the piece came to a jarring halt as the bartender shot to his feet and whirled in surprise, eyes widening with shock and fear.
"That's the name of the piece, right?" Yusuke continued, taking a few steps forward. The bartender stiffened.
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."
Yusuke stopped abruptly. "Yeah, I sorta fell asleep backstage. Didn't realize what time it was." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, grinning. The other boy refused to meet his eyes.
"Regardless, patrons aren't allowed to be inside the club after closing," he reiterated nervously, attempting to walk swiftly past Yusuke. "I'll escort you to the door."
The guitarist reached out and snagged a startlingly thin wrist as the bartender passed. "Come on, what's the harm?" he asked teasingly.
Wincing, the boy attempted to pull away. Yusuke tightened his grip playfully, but when the redhead cried out in real pain, he immediately let go.
"Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, reaching out, but the bartender shied away. A moment, later, though, he looked up at Yusuke with carefully wary eyes.
"What did you say?"
"I said, 'I'm sorry'," Yusuke repeated. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
The boy looked startled for a moment, then straightened up and asked rather unexpectedly, "Can I get you something to drink?"
Yusuke grinned.
With a physical barrier between them, the redhead became much more comfortable, and Yusuke watched with some interest as his fingers danced gracefully, naturally, over bottles, glasses, and shakers. He slid a drink towards Yusuke and then settled across the bar with his own.
"So, what's a classy guy like you doing in a place like this?"
The bartender looked up, amused. "If that was an attempt at a pickup line, it's failed miserably."
Yusuke laughed. "That bad, huh?"
The redhead smiled. "I'm in school right now. This job pays enough to keep me there." He shot Yusuke a sly glance. "Though, I'm sure it isn't nearly as much as you make."
Yusuke smiled ruefully. "You're probably right."
"You don't seem as pleased about that as one would expect."
"It's all fun, I guess, but…" Yusuke trailed off with a sigh, sipping at his drink and enjoying the rough burn of the alcohol.
"But-?" the boy prompted.
"Something's missing," he finished lamely, and the bartender nodded thoughtfully.
"Mmm," he mused, rolling up his sleeves. As they passed his thin wrists, Yusuke's gaze was caught by huge, terrible bruises stretching halfway up his forearms.
"Jesus," he muttered. "No wonder I was hurting you."
The boy started, unaware of what he had done until he noticed Yusuke's eyes fixed on his arms. He cradled them uncomfortably to his chest, but made no motion to conceal them again.
"It's all right," he murmured. "You didn't know."
"Mind if I ask how you got those?"
Silence reigned for a long moment after that, and Yusuke was about to change the subject when the redhead spoke up. "Did you wonder why I was so distraught at finding someone in the club after closing?"
"I have to admit, the thought did cross my mind," Yusuke answered, unsure as to how the ideas were related.
The bartended nodded. "It isn't the first time it's happened," he continued. "Some of the patrons get a little overfriendly, and camp out until I'm closing. They get pretty clever about hiding while I'm making my final sweep, and come out as I'm locking up."
Yusuke frowned, disliking where this was going. His gaze lingered on the horrific bruises plastered against the redhead's pale skin.
"About a week ago, one of the men I was serving started being very forward with me. He was already so drunk; I decided to cut him off. He disappeared after that, and I just assumed he'd left. I was wrong."
"He reappeared as I was wiping down the bar. I might mention that he was a rather large man. 'Huge' would probably be a more appropriate word, in fact. Solid muscle, broad in the chest and shoulders, at least two heads taller than I."
"He pinned my wrists to the bar with one of his hands, and no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't get loose. I couldn't feel anything but sheer terror." He fell silent again, sipping from his glass.
"Did he – I mean – are you - ?" Yusuke stuttered, and surprisingly, the boy understood.
"Oh, no. No, no," he answered quickly, rather flustered. "No, I managed to get away. I…bit…him," he finished uncertainly.
Yusuke choked on his drink. "You what?"
"I couldn't think of anything else to do, so I leaned forward and bit down on his hand where he was holding me," he muttered. "And then, when he'd let me go, I spun around and cracked one of the whiskey bottles over his head."
Unable to help himself, Yusuke howled with laughter. The bartender had the good grace to look a little sheepish.
"I panicked, all right?" he spluttered, as Yusuke wiped tears from his face.
"Oh, I bet that'll chase them off for a while," he chuckled, and the redhead grinned.
"One can only hope." A thoughtful look crossed his face then, and Yusuke subsided slightly.
"What is it?"
"You said you felt like you were missing something," the bartender recalled, and Yusuke nodded. "Those men always said they felt the same way."
Yusuke looked affronted, and opened his mouth to retort, but the redhead held out a hand to quell his speech. The sight of those bruises was enough to silence the guitarist.
"Hear me out. You and those men are indeed similar in that you are each seeking to fill a void in your lives. What makes you different from them is your approach. You are not willing, as they are, to simply fill that space with drink, food, and warm bodies. You are planning to actively seek that which you lack, are you not?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure I'll be announcing my departure from the band soon." A shocked look flitted across his face as he suddenly recalled an earlier conversation. "Shit! The band! I was supposed to meet them back at the hotel!" He leaped to his feet, fumbling for his wallet. "How much do I owe you?"
The bartender shook his head. "It's on the house. Get back to your friends. I'm sure they're worried about you."
Yusuke smiled gratefully and took off towards the door. Halfway there, he paused and turned, unsurprised to find the redhead following sedately behind him.
"Hey, can I come back and talk to you again sometime?"
The bartender smiled. "Anytime you like." He didn't speak again until Yusuke was outside, heading for the hotel. Then, his voice drifted to the guitarist through the cool night air, soft and knowing.
"Goodbye, Yusuke."
The musician turned back, but the door to the club was shut and locked, the lights extinguished, and the slim redhead with the green eyes full of understanding was gone.
As was to be expected, Yusuke didn't return to the club any time soon. The band's tour moved on to a new city, and not long after that, he formally announced his retirement from the music industry. The memory of the graceful bartender slipped to a dark corner of his mind, and thus it came as a welcome shock when, about a year later, he found himself back in that same little club, a drink placed in front of him by familiar pale hands.
"Still take them the same way?"
He looked up and grinned cheekily into a face that was suddenly quite vivid in his memories. "They still on the house?"
The bartender laughed. "I'll think about it."
Yusuke shrugged and took the drink. "Worth a try."
With a smile, the redhead watched him drain the glass. As he set it back down on the countertop, a pretty young woman came and sat next to him, hooking an arm through his.
"Come on, Yusuke," she murmured, tugging gently at him. "This club's closing. Let's find somewhere else to go."
Casting a glance back at the bartender, well aware of how much this conversation mirrored that which had led to their first meeting, Yusuke answered, "You go on ahead, Keiko. I'll meet you back at the hotel." He leaned in to kiss her gently, and she smiled and left him.
Turning back, he found the redhead pouring another drink. "She's beautiful," he remarked, not looking up from the bottle and glass. "Is she what you were missing?"
Yusuke reached for the glass, fingers brushing lightly against the bartender's as he did so. "No," he answered honestly, after a moment's though.
"'No'?" echoed the redhead, glancing up.
"She's a wonderful woman," he continued, turning the glass thoughtfully in his hands and watching the alcohol swirl. "Too good for me, really, but it still feels wrong. It still feels like there's something I need to discover."
He looked up, and found the bartender gazing at him with gentle green eyes. Before he could react, the other man had leaned forward to press soft lips to his. His instinctive reaction was to break away, babble some excuse about being in a relationship, and bolt for the door. But there was such understanding in that kiss, so much passion and friendship and pure love, that Yusuke found himself reciprocating, hands coming up to thread in long, red locks, lips parting under the gentle pressure.
And as the kiss deepened and continued, all the pieces suddenly fell into place, and Yusuke finally understood what he knew the young bartender must have discovered in that very first moment their eyes had met across the crowded floor: that this was what he had been searching for all along.