City Encounters

Chapter 1: All You Need is a Glass of Good Beer

It was already summer in Europe, so the days stretched luxuriously long, with sunlight lingering well into the evening. It was past 9:00 PM, but the pub was just starting to get busy. The air was warm, and the streets of Ghent were alive with the hum of chatter and laughter. Athrun had walked these cobbled streets countless times, each step echoing the history of this medieval city. As an exchange student, he had come to love the charm of Ghent, with its picturesque canals and quaint buildings.

Earlier that day, everything had changed. His father had shown up unexpectedly, demanding things from him with the same relentless pressure he always did. Their arguments were nothing new, but today, something snapped. Athrun couldn't control his emotions and completely lashed out, the frustration and anger spilling out uncontrollably. He was having a terrible day.

To make matters worse, he had no one to talk to. His best friend Kira was out on a date with his new girlfriend. Kira had been so excited about the date, and Athrun didn't want to ruin his mood with his own troubles.

Desperate for an escape, he decided to head to the city center using the tram. Ghent had its own wonders at night. The city was beautiful during the day, with its medieval buildings standing proudly along the canals, but at night, it transformed into a magical place. The warm glow of the streetlights reflected off the water, and the small population made it feel intimate and welcoming. Belgium, known for its beers, waffles, and chocolates, was a paradise for a student like Athrun. He had tried a different kind of beer every night for three months, and there were still many left untasted.

Tonight, he needed to drown his sorrows in one of those beers. As the tram rattled through the city, he felt a strange mix of anger and sadness, but also a sense of relief. He was on his way to his favorite pub, where the familiar faces and comforting atmosphere awaited him. The night was just beginning, and despite everything, there was still a part of him that hoped it could get better.

But not tonight. Tonight, he was determined to get wasted. He planned to order the strongest craft beer he could find, one with a potent 12% alcohol content. If he was seen as a failure, then he would show his father exactly what failure looked like. He would go home utterly wasted and probably wake up with a pounding headache.

Then, he would face his father's inevitable scolding. Only this time, he felt he deserved it.

He sat in a corner of the bar at a small round table with two high chairs. This pub was one of his favorites in the area. He often came here, especially during difficult times as a student. The menu, as expected, had an extensive selection of brands. It was a two-page menu divided into two columns with all the beers the bar offered. He was still amazed that a city like this could have a menu dedicated solely to beers, with each table even featuring a beer encyclopedia.

Yet, he knew exactly what he wanted. He ordered Fourchette, a brand he loved because it always came with a message written on the glass. Tonight, the message read, "Chill, drink a beer, and everything will be all right."

Fancy! This was precisely what he needed now, and the funny thing was that he got it from a glass of beer. What luck. The message lightened his mood so much that he ordered another glass and requested to use the same one. Maybe this way, he would have some good luck.

His phone buzzed, and he read the message. Kira had just sent a picture of himself and Lacus enjoying their date. Athrun was happy for them, but the mood made it difficult to share in their happiness. Still, as a good friend, he sent the message, "Glad you enjoyed the date." He stopped himself from inviting Kira to join him at the pub. Kira deserved to be happy. His past relationships had not gone well before Lacus.

Then he realized he had received other messages from Meer and Meyrin, asking him out for a drink. The two women were in the same program as him at the university. He was fully aware that they were interested in him, and he knew that with just one message, he could have one of them tonight.

He stared at their photo but felt annoyed instead. As clear as the blue sky at noon today, he realized he was not in the mood for their company. Indeed, at this moment, he felt vulnerable and needy, and he wanted to release his stress. His best friend was inaccessible for the moment, and his other friends were not with him. He knew he could release his stress by drinking beer or by having sex.

But as he thought about these things, he realized that if he ever wanted intimacy, it had to be with someone he loved, not just with people who showed superficial interest in him.

If there was one lesson from his experiences, it was that he would not date, kiss, or have sex with a woman he didn't love. He had his fantasies as a man, but he still hadn't met his ideal woman. He was traditional in this regard, which many people misunderstood about him. He was the type to commit to one person, and unless that person was the right one, he showed no romantic or sexual interest. This was his irony: he had needs as a man, but they were bottled up and reserved for that one special person. And so for tonight, a good beer would probably be the best option.

He locked his phone without replying to any of them and ordered another glass, staying until he was the last one to leave the bar. Fortunately, the tram was still running, so he decided to take it home.

However, the alcohol had started to kick in even before the bar closed. He had been good at holding it in, but now that he was out of the bar, he felt the cold wind biting through his clothes. He had left his flat in such a hurry that he hadn't brought a jacket.

He tried to make his way to the familiar tram stop, walking along the tram line. At this time of night, the tram ran every hour, so he was confident he would reach the stop on time.

He started walking, but his steps were unsteady. He was drunk enough to be off-balance but not enough to pass out. His vision was blurry, and he couldn't see the street and the station clearly. In this state, he didn't notice the tram coming from behind him. He was walking dangerously close to the tracks. On a normal day, he would be okay since the tram followed a definite route, but now, dizzy and disoriented, he leaned too far to the right and stumbled onto the track with the tram just behind him.

In a split second, a hand grabbed him firmly and yanked him away from the tram tracks as the tram buzzed madly at him.

"Watch where you're going," said a woman's voice. With the pull, he ended up leaning against her, inhaling her scent—a refreshing summer breeze in the coldness of the night. She felt sturdy, so he stayed leaning on her until she placed her hands on his shoulders to talk to him.

He looked at her, uncertain of what had just happened, but as the tram passed by, he realized he had almost been hit.

He stared at the woman. In the glow of the lamppost, he could see she was a blonde, shorter than him, but her hands were strong and firm. Her skin was smooth, yet her body was sturdy, someone dependable. Her voice was firm but warm, scolding him with a worried tone.

Could a woman with this kind of irony exist in this world? He looked at her, those amber eyes catching the light from the lamppost like two golden orbs staring back at him, and then it hit him—he wanted to kiss her, right then and there. Maybe, just one kiss on the cheek. With unsteady hands, he held her face, blabbering, "Can I kiss you?" The woman, taken aback by the sudden proposal, wanted to decline, but Athrun was just too fast. With a breath stinking of beer, he tried to plant a kiss on her cheek, but as she turned to react, the kiss landed on her lips. He received a strong slap as a result, but he was too light-headed to mind it. Then he heard another man's voice, "I'm going to kill this man." That was the last thing he heard before he collapsed onto her. Before collapsing, he accidentally grabbed the nametag pinned on her chest and clutched it with his finger. He totally passed out in the middle of the night, in the arms of his savior, achieving his original objective of the day: to get home wasted.