Chapter Text
The summer night breeze hit Levan in the face as he opened his apartment window. Down the street, he could see people from the city walking and chattering. Laughter echoed all around. All of it was a peaceful sight, almost nostalgic. It reminded Levan of his rebellious days.
As much as living in the city could sometimes be obnoxious with cars speeding through the streets and teenagers screaming. He found comfort in the cacophony of it all. Levan would rather live this way forever than go back to what he had back home.
Stepping away from the window, he plopped himself onto his couch. He’d just finished setting up for the night and had even prepared his favorite childhood dessert as a treat to spoil himself. Lately, he’d been covering a lot of shifts so it was only fair.
Throughout the months, working as a bartender and earning big tips had helped him decorate his apartment. It wasn’t spacious but it wasn’t exactly small either. He managed to make the most of what he had.
Down the hallway, a collection of vinyl records was carefully placed on the wall so they wouldn’t be ruined in any way. Levan was more interested in the jazz genre. He always had been, ever since childhood. The day he heard it on the radio was the day he fell in love with music. And with enough money saved, he managed to buy a record player.
As Levan went to grab a bite of his gozinaki, his large feline companion jumped onto the cushion near him. He scratched the cat’s chin and pushed the plate away from her. Levan named her Meowy.
When he first started working at the club, he would take his breaks outside and smoke for a bit if he had enough time. One day, he met a small kitten who was eating scraps. She was a beautiful calico cat though her patterns were stained with dirt, hiding their colors. Their encounter wasn’t the best at first and Levan was sure that she wasn’t interested in him at all. Nevertheless, they both stayed in each other’s company.
During some breaks, Levan would sneak out a few pieces of meat to give to her. Meowy, skeptical at first, started to depend on the man’s gentleness. What was a one time thing became a daily occurrence.
He moved his hand to scratch between Meowy’s ears. In only one year, Levan had domesticated his very own roommate. A pretty mixture of black, white and ginger accompanied him every day.
The house phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. He watched it ring for another second as a frown settled on his face. Only one person could be calling him at this hour.
His fucking boss.
Could he ignore it and say he’d gone to bed early as an excuse? No he couldn’t. His boss was anything but understanding or patient.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he made his way toward the ringing phone and forced himself to pick it up. "Levan Giorgadze here. Who’s speaking?" he huffed in annoyance.
"Levaniii. Look, I gotta make it quick. We’re packed here tonight and everyone thought it was the perfect time to ditch me!" His voice rang out so loudly that the man on the other end quickly pulled the phone away. Levan could clearly hear the distinct sounds of people yelling in the background.
"It’s my day off…" Levan sighed. "Can’t you get someone else?" A familiar brush of fur settled against his legs. He gave a sweet smile to his feline companion. A smile that quickly faded as his boss kept nagging him. "Like I said Levani, these—don’t fucking fight in my bar you—!" He could hear the sound of glass shattering and three men shouting in the background.
Levan quietly snickered hearing insults being thrown left and right.
"Get ready. You start at nine sharp."
"What?! That’s hardly—" He trailed off, looking at his watch. "That’s hardly thirty minutes?!" He breathed out sharply. "The next stop near work is in ten minutes. Are you insane? There’s no way in hell I’m working that early."
"Then start getting ready! You’re working tonight."
"I'm not working tonight. That’s impossible." He looked at the time.
…
Levan was indeed working tonight.
He managed to get ready in only ten minutes. If anything, that was a record for him considering he usually took two, if not three hours to prepare himself physically and mentally.
He ran to catch the bus. The rain soaked through his clothes within seconds and the hair he’d taken such precious time to style just to look somewhat presentable was now dripping everywhere.
Once he got on the bus, he fixed his usual uniform. It was a white button up shirt and a vest. He smoothed his uniform down in a poor attempt to fix himself and pushed his wet hair back into place. That was when he realized he forgot his tie.
Everything that could have gone wrong went absolutely wrong.
Then again, it wasn’t his fault. He had been called in on a random Saturday.
Levan stepped off the city bus and made his way to work. Down the street he could see colored lights flashing and making its way outside. The music filled with bass could be heard all the way down there. Levan could smell smoke and staleness as he got closer and closer to the building.
The nightclub he worked at was one of the most famous ones in Georgia. Famous in the sense that people from all kinds of backgrounds gathered there for a moment or a drink. No one necessarily cared so it didn’t take long for Levan to be accepted by his coworkers.
Quickly making his way to the back door of the club, he opened it and was immediately greeted by the muffled thump of loud music and the distant sound of people chattering. He slipped his bag into his assigned locker and headed to the staff bathroom to fix his appearance and wash his hands.
Levan grabbed a paper time card and inserted it into the slot of the machine. After running a hand through his purple dyed hair hair, he pushed open the door that led to the bar. There goes nothing.
Lights clouded his vision the second he stepped in, bright and overwhelming after the dim hallway. A very familiar voice called out over the music. "Levani!"
Levan put on a quick practiced smile as his boss pulled away from the two men he had supposedly been arguing with on the phone earlier. "Told you were going to make it." He grabbed Levans arms and shook them firmly. "Ready for the night?"
God, I hope so. "Why wouldn’t I be?" Levan slipped out of his boss’s grip as he reached for a glass after spotting one of the usual customers. He waved the man a quick hello and grabbed the bottle of rye whiskey near to make a classic cocktail.
"That’s the spirit!" His boss exclaimed loudly. "So sorry to call you in so late, you know?"
"Don’t worry about it." Levan said while pouring the amber liquid. "I didn’t really plan anything today so I don’t mind working." Lies. He would much rather be lying in his bed with his cute cat than make drinks for drunkards.
He dropped a sugar cube and added a splash of water to the drink. Levan’s boss leaned on the counter, crossing his arms and nodded. "I see."
"You don’t mind working until three tonight, do you?" He added.
Levan dropped the ice into the glass a little harder than necessary.
"Like I said before, its more than packed in here so why don’t we make the most of it yeah?" Levan grabbed a spoon and began stirring the drink. The metal clinked against the glass as he did so. "I haven’t done a long night shift like that before." He sighed knowing he didn’t really have a choice.
He glanced around the room and multitude of people filled the space. Some were dancing under the flashing lights while a few sat at tables waiting for their meals. "Is there something special going on that i'm not aware of?" Levan asked.
"Some band is performing tonight." Levan grabbed an orange peal from the garnish bowl and plopped it into the drink. "What do you mean? People perform here every night." He slid the glass toward the customer and reached for a rag to wipe up the spill from the melting ice.
"Haven’t you seen the flyers?" Levan shook his head. "Too busy to do so." He moved towards another customer and slid the drink menu towards the woman while offering a small smile.
"Well It’s a band from Russia. I think it’s called TWO-NSFV?" The boss followed all tapping his chin thinking.
"Does the name mean anything?" Levan arched an eyebrow at him while retrieving the menu after the girl pointed to a light green drink. "Heard it was some kind of shitty wordplay for something."
"Do you know when they’re coming?" Levan grabbed a glass while scanning the shelves for a specific bottle. His boss reached for the silver tequila and gave it to him. "Somewhere between 10 and 11."
"Thank you." Levan took the alcohol and poured it in a cocktail shaker along with orange liqueur, ice and lime juice. He shook it throughly and strained it in the glass besides him.
"Pretty sure that’s all I had to say for the night. Have a good one Levan."
Levan hummed in acknowledgment and waved goodbye. Russian performers touring in Georgia? It had been a while since anything new or remotely exciting had happened around here. Most nights blurred together into the same music. Jazz and blues. Not that he cared, in fact he loved it but it was getting repetitive. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be as ordinary as the rest.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the same woman from earlier discreetly pointing at him while whispering to her friend. Levan turned his head to her and she immediately looked away.
He finished preparing the drink and carefully garnished it with a lime wedge before smoothly sliding it across the bar toward her.
"A classic margarita for the pretty lady?" He said with a wink.
She bashfully looked away as her friend laughed at her.
—
The night calmed down for a bit as the orders started coming in slower. Levan rested his head in his hand as he stared across the room. The sound of glass and plates clinking with the music slowing down only added to the atmosphere. The flashing blue, pink and red lights dimmed and melted into a warm orange hue.
Work wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. In only two hours, he had already managed to entertain himself by talking with the customers he served. It made the time pass faster.
Through the orange lights, he could make out the figure of someone familiar walking toward him with a tray in hand.
A hand moved in circular motions in front of his face to get his attention.
"Earth to Levan." A loud voice with a thick Russian accent called out for him. "Lights on but nobody home." Levan pushed her hand away from his face and straightened his posture.
She let out an obnoxious laugh at his frown as she set the tray down and leaned against the counter. Her usual perfect bun was slightly disheveled from the earlier rush. A few loose strands framed her face. "You’re not supposed to be here. What gives?" Sirenia asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Urgent." Levan replied, stretching his arms before stifling a yawn. "Apparently no one else was available tonight so the boss kind of dragged me in."
"What about you? Weren’t you supposed to be dancing around somewhere." He asked, gesturing vaguely with his hand.
She blinked at him slowly clearly not understanding. "You. Ballet. Today."
She shook her head. "Cancelled. Have to wait a week for new practice."
Sirenia was an exchange college student from Russia. She had come to Georgia to be coached by one of the most famous retired ballerinas in hopes of making it into professional competitions. Her tall and lean frame made it obvious.
When she first arrived, she barely understood the language and even now she still struggles. If he was being honest, her vocabulary sometimes sounded like one of a twelve year old.
But despite how different they were, Levan found her company entertaining if not comforting. She was unapologetically herself and that’s what brought fun in his shifts.
"Have you heard of the new band coming to perform?" Levan tilted his head. "They’re Russian. Something about two…two?"
"TWO-NSFV?" She asked.
"Yes exactly!"
"I have heard, yes. They do not interest me. Loud, rock, me-tall ." She took a cherry from the garnish bowl and examined it. "Pain in ass? No. Pain in ear." Such a way with words.
"You mean a metal band?" Levan snorted at her error. "Yes, a metal band." She plopped the cherry in her mouth without shame.
"I prefer elegance. Why metal at club? Ruin mood. Boss dumb. Stupid even." She went to grab another cherry from the bowl.
"Who knows. Maybe people will like it? A change would be nice." Levan’s eyes drifted toward the entrance as the door opened. Five people walked in talking to their boss.
The ballerina reached for yet another cherry but Levan pushed the bowl away from her. "If you keep eating all the cherries how am I gonna garnish my drinks?" He laughed seeing her frown.
"It is only three cherries! Unfairness. Cruelty." Sirenia whined as she put a hand over her head in a dramatic manner. "I am worthy more than three cherries! How crude..."
Levan pushed the bowl toward her and looked at the entrance. "Take your third cherry and go."
"I do not take pity." She said proudly as she stood up, grabbed her tray and popped another cherry into her mouth.
Sirenia followed his gaze toward the entrance, paused for a second then quickly scooped up a handful of cherries to eat and bolted toward the crowd to deliver orders.
"Sirenia!" Levan grabbed the bowl only to see one singular cherry. His eyes widened.
She fucking ate it all.
Levan set the garnish bowl aside and glanced at the entrance again. A man with dark hair reaching his shoulders stepped inside wearing some black collared jacket. He was followed by another man with long brown dreadlocks, a green Hawaiian shirt patterned with palm trees and a white shirt underneath.
Both of them were carrying equipment. The one with dark sunken eyes had what looked like an electric guitar slung over his shoulder while the other struggled slightly with a heavy box in his arms.
The door leading to the bar opened behind Levan as one of his coworkers walked in. He gave him a quick hello.
Up on stage, the two men began rearranging equipment. They shifted stands and cables around. Not long after another duo arrived.
A man with maroon pinkish spiky hair carried an instrument strapped across his back. He paused to help a woman carrying one of the heavier boxes.
She had purple spiky hair to match his look, wore a chunky tag necklace and had her nails painted the same pink shade as his hair. The two of them laughed loudly as they crossed the room together.
He turned around after receiving a tap on his shoulder. "Can you do the drinks for the food orders over there? I’ll take care of the customers." His coworker handed him a piece of paper. "Sirenia already wrote the orders but I can’t read her handwriting."
Levan took the note and nodded. "Of course." He stepped aside and started preparing the drinks listed. Squinting slightly at Sirenia’s chaotic scrawl he lined them up one by one. She appeared not long after picked them up with a grin.
"Cherry stealer." Levan muttered, shaking his head with a smile as he wiped the counter clean.
"Guilty!" The ballerina snorted and waved off, tray in one hand.
The crowd began thickening again. It wasn’t as frantic as earlier but the club was still packed. Levan rested his head on his hand and watched the stage waiting for another order to come in. The performers were still rearranging equipment. The one in the black collared jacket seemed deep in conversation with his boss.
Levan moved his gaze to the door opening and a tall lean man seemed to be struggling carrying two boxes.
The boxes he carried moved with the way his arms were shaking. They shook in his arms as his muscles strained to keep them steady. His hair that was black and short framed his face nicely except for the few messy strands sticking out. He wore a green sweatshirt rolled up to his forearms revealing faint arm hair.
Levan raised an eyebrow when the man stayed in place and looked around awkwardly. Guessing his friends are too busy to help him out. Their eyes met briefly and Levan quickly looked away pretending to focus on cleaning the counter.
When he looked back up, the boxes were on the floor and the man was scratching the back of his head. Levan couldn’t bear watching the poor guy fail miserably to pick up even one box so he made his way toward him after leaving the bar.
Sergey rubbed his chin as he stared at the boxes. Some worker had even been staring at him weirdly. He breathed out in embarrassment. They just had to leave him with the heavier ones didn’t they? He tried to call out to one of his friends but the loudness of the place silenced him. He made one final attempt and crouched down to pick up one of the heavy boxes.
It wouldn’t budge.
Sergey could feel the eyes of people in the club settling on him. He hated being in public and he hated going out. It always felt like this. Like people were judging his every movement. Why couldn’t he just stay home?
Just a few more hours and I’ll be out of here. He repeated it in his head like it would make time go faster and let out a huge trembling sigh trying to calm himself down. Sergey made another attempt to grab the box.
A pair of hands settled on the side of it.
"Need some help?" a man’s voice said.
Sergey looked up to see a man with purple dyed curly hair standing directly in front of him. He recoiled slightly before realizing it was the worker from earlier. His eyebrows were purple too and his eyes were a pretty olive color. A light silver earring shone under the orange hue of the lights.
His white collar was open revealing his neck and a bit more. Sergey’s mouth gaped open before he quickly looked away but the man noticed his staring and smiled.
"Don’t know if you saw me over there…Well I think you did actually." He pointed toward the bar where he had been standing.
"Did you?"
"…"
"Never mind that. Do you even speak Georgian?" Levan rambled quickly noticing how big and dark the man’s irises were. "My god you probably think I sound crazy right now." He laughed to himself, shaking his head. Now he was the one looking away from the unbearable silence.
"I do… I know Georgian." A deep and light Russian accent replied. "That’s amazing!" Levan said excitedly. "And it sounds perfect as well." He gave him a tiny reassuring wink.
Sergey blushed faintly against his pale skin at the compliment. His fingers gripped the box tighter as he looked away. "I don’t think it’s necessarily perfect—"
"Not many who stay around here do. Well…I mean that not many people bother learning it for a onetime show." He paused. "You should see my coworker. She’s a mess but she tries. We all love her." The worker continued, clearly getting off topic. Sergey raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Oh right, sorry. She’s also Russian that’s why." He added quickly.
"I’m guessing you have a show to attend too right?" Levan smiled softly and shifted his hands to get a better grip on the box. The man’s long, cold fingers brushed against his warm ones. Sergey nodded.
"Alright! I’ll help you carry these things. On the count of three, get up and get a good hold on it." Levan said shifting. "Okay?"
"O-Okay." Sergey mumbled.
"One."
"Two."
"Three!" They both stood up with the box in their hands. Levan began walking backward while glancing behind him. His rolled up white sleeve showed the subtle flex in his arms as he held the weight. "Watch your step," Levan said as he climbed the three steps leading to the stage. Sergey followed carefully. Russian voices grew clearer as they approached.
Once on the stage, they slowly lowered the heavy box onto the floor. Sergey stood up first. "Thank you."
"Don’t worry about it." Levan dusted off his knees. "The least I can do for special guests right?"
Sergey blinked at that. "Right…" He fidgeted with his fingers bashfully.
He tilted his head toward the other boxes. "Wanna move on to the next—"
"Sergey dude!" The man from earlier with brown dreadlocks came toward the cold one with open arms. Levan moved away to let them talk. "Turns out you weren’t supposed to carry thatttt."
"That’s Niks shit y’know? Your shits over there. We already put it up so you can get to practicin’ bro." He pointed at the black drum kit while trying to lift the box they had just placed down.
Levan looked between the two men confused by what they were saying.
"The hell is in this box dude?"
"I have no clue." Sergey shrugged.
"Nikolai! Come get your shit!" The stoner yelled while cupping his hands around his mouth as if that would make him louder.
The man with maroon hair, who Levan assumed was Nikolai, set his bass down and jogged over. "Stop screaming like a lunatic dumbass." He pushed the stoner playfully on his shoulder as he leaned down to get his items.
He lifted the box without effort. "Dude! What’s in there? It took like Sergey a right hand man to get this shit in here." He nudged Levan with his elbow on his arm as if they were friends.
"Do you ever…stop saying shit." Sergey muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as Levan brushed his arm off. Nikolai gave the bartender an apologetic smile for his friend’s stupidity.
"Yeah, Felix. Shut up man." The pink haired man rolled his eyes and headed back toward the cables. "Two versus one. Not fuckin’ cool guys!" His voice faded as he followed his friend. Sergey gave Levan a quick wave and mouthed another thank you as he went to his band mates.
The one in the black collared jacket, Nikita, shook the boss’ hand, seemingly agreeing with whatever he was saying and then gestured Sergey to come over.
…
Levan pulled a cigarette out of his pack. He leaned against the wall beside the back door and fumbled with his lighter, pressing the metal wheel over and over until it finally sparked. A small orange flame flickered to life lighting up his face in a way the dull yellow streetlights could not. He brought the white tip of the cigarette to the flame and inhaled gently until it caught.
A small reward for the hard work he had done.
Levan pulled the cigarette away and exhaled slowly. A thin gust of smoke slipped past his lips. Leaning his head back, he watched it dissolve into the warm summer air. The outside air still smelled earthy and damp from the rain that had poured earlier. The taste of nicotine settled on his tongue as he felt his shoulders slowly relax.
Levan ran a hand through his hair as his thoughts drifted back to the night. His name was Sergey. He caught onto that quickly. He took another drag. Sergey. Sergey. Sergey.
It was a cute name. It suited him.
He’d looked like a lost kitten when he offered help. Levan couldn’t help but giggle out loud at the memory. The man had the grumpiest expression and his jowls did him no favors as his eyebrows scrunched together. Poor guy looked like he was about to cry over not being able to lift a box.
And he definitely did not forget the way his eyes had trailed along his open collar.
Levan repeated the motion until his cigarette burned down then flicked it away and pulled out another one.
It had really been a while since he had been with someone.
Levan wasn’t exactly inexperienced but he wasn’t particularly experienced either. The last relationship he had was when he still lived under his parents’ roof. Needless to say, it didn’t end well.
Something about “I want to see you more” blah blah blah and all that which simply was not possible with everything he had been dealing with at the time. So he gave up on dating a long time ago. The rest had been one night stands he never really took seriously.
But Sergey seemed respectful. He looked…nice. He always said thank you which was rare around here. Most guys would just give him a glance and move on with their own business. He wasn’t talkative either more like on the quiet side too. He barely spoke more than a few words at a time.
Levan inhaled deeply again letting the smoke fill his lungs before slowly releasing it. He could definitely work with that. Besides that was what made it more fun.
Levan tapped the ash off the end and watched it crumble onto the damp pavement.
What was he even doing?
Getting worked up over a guy he had spoken to for what. Five minutes? He helped him carry a box and exchanged a few words. That was it. Sergey didn’t even know his name.
The sound of guitars rang through the nightclub echoing all the way outside. It wasn’t like any other tune he had heard before. Levan raised an eyebrow as the music thumped through the walls and the bass vibrated against his back. A Russian voice carried through the noise of the crowd.
They were playing.
He took one last drag before crushing the cigarette under his shoe and headed inside. Levan was immediately greeted by his coworker nagging him. "There’s a whole bunch of people and you ditched me." The music was louder now. Wayy louder. Levan could barely hear a damn thing.
"What was that?" he shouted over the noise.
"Get to work!" Levan barely caught half of it. The guitars screeched again even louder this time and the crowd surprisingly erupted into cheers. He glanced toward the stage as bright red lights flashed over the band.
Nikolai and Nikita, the guys from earlier, had their backs turned against each other as they both strummed their instruments. The one with maroon hair played his bass while the other handled the electric guitar that caused all the ruckus.
The lady from before with purple hair and a tube top held a mic in her hand, supposedly waiting for her turn to sing. She stood near a familiar figure, one that Levan had seen earlier. And there, slightly hidden behind the drum kit sat Sergey.
Sergey’s jaw tightened as he focused and his shoulders flexed under the harsh stage lights that they put out. The bangs he had tucked behind his ear earlier had long since fallen loose. They were framing his face and sticking slightly to his forehead from the heat.
Sergey bit down on his lower lip in concentration and his brows were drawn together. His drumsticks thumped against the drums in a repetitive pattern.
Levan could make out one thing.
He was fucking pretty.
Levan looked at the multitude of people sitting and waiting for their drinks all while glancing toward the stage. Some didn’t seem too interested in what was being played, others tried to talk over the music, which was obviously impossible and the rest just went with the flow.
He walked up to his coworker and tapped him on the shoulder. "I’m gonna go ahead and take my 15."
"What?" The man narrowed his eyes at him. "You just took your 15."
"Yeah but…" Levan paused and thought for something that could get him out of here.
Levan clasped his hands together in front of him. It was a pathetic attempt at looking convincing. "I’ll cover your next shift. Promise." He rolled his eyes and continued on polishing the glass indicating that he agreed. Yes! He jumped in excitement mentally as he made his way towards the other side.
It was too packed.
There were too many people in the food section and god, half of the people at the bar were in the crowd. Levan decided to settle in a secluded corner where he could see everything. It was much more close than when he was at the bar. Meaning he could see Sergey better.
On the stage, the two guitarists from before stayed playing their instruments. They were swaying side by side which looked a little silly if he were to be honest but their music was still good. By the sound of it, it seemed like a solo as the melody invaded his brain. It sounded pretty good. It was softer completely contradicting the tune they had before. The woman from earlier sang at a lower tone.
Sergey pushed his bangs back behind his ear, only for them to fall forward again, sticking slightly to his forehead from sweat. Levan mentally laughed at seeing his frown as he looked up.
The drummer breathed heavily. His chest heaved as he quickly looked through the audience while the heavy red lights flashed. People were jumping up and down. A faint smile appeared as satisfaction settled in. A familiar person seemed to be in a corner. His eyes widened as he realized who it was.
And he was staring directly at him.
Sergey gulped as he quickly looked away then glanced again. Levan gave him a small wave. Confused, Sergey looked around awkwardly. Was he talking to me? He looked around the stage. No. Everyone was at the front. Sergey pointed towards himself. Me?
Yes you idiot. Who else?
Levan gave a small thumbs up.
He blushed from the embarrassment and not knowing what to do—he stupidly gave a thumbs up back in response. Sergey’s part was next as Vika’s voice went into screamo.
Levan looked at Sergey fumbling with his drumsticks in an attempt to look busy. Levan shook his head in disbelief with a smile that a 3 second interaction was impossible for Sergey.
"That’s new."
Levan jumped at the voice beside him as he turned his head immediately.
It was Sirenia. Her tray was long since abandoned and she stared at the stage obviously not impressed nor interested from the music. The red lights from before illuminated her face. "What now? I leave for one hour and now you two are a thing? Yes?"
Levan deadpanned for a second. "What are you talking about."
"Don’t lie I saw it! I saw it all the way from over there." She pointed toward the end of the crowd. "Straight out of a movie I say!"
"God forbid I talk to a man Sirenia."
"You? Talk? With men? Who knows…who knows." She squinted at Sergey on stage. Levan looked at her. What was she on about like actually.
"So you’re done for the night and you decide to torment me?" He scoffed.
She ignored that last bit. "I am simply on break."
"…"
"What do you see in him?"
"I literally just waved! That's all."
Sirenia paused and gave him a knowing glare. "He looks like if you breathed too close he would faint. Like a kitten." The woman muttered.
He heard that. "He would not."
"He would!"
"Would, not." He kinda would.
Levan rolled his eyes while crossing his arms. "So why are you here?" She asked.
"I’m taking my break." Levan replied, eyes still on him.
"Took a break just to see him—"
"Shut up." Sirenia laughed knowingly. They both listened to the metal-like song. And not a second after.
"This gives me a headache. I’m out."
Levan watched the server head out. Her tall figure made itself apparent through the crowd as she faded between people. Nikita was close to Sergey now while Nikolai was near Vika.
Time went on and at one point Nikokai put his instrument on the guitar stand before heading behind Nikita. They stared into each other as he strummed repetitive chords against the man’s chest, earning a few whistles from the crowd. It was clearly practiced by the way they leaned into each other just to get a rise out of the people.
Levan’s jaw dropped at the sight.
—
What he thought was 15 minutes turned into an hour.
You owe me big time." Levan looked up to see the frustrated scowl of his coworker as Levan headed into the bar. He already grabbed his jacket and left early not even sparing him another glance.
Levan sighed and looked around. There were hardly any customers left except a few lingering around tables, finishing drinks or talking quietly.
The music had stopped a long time ago and faded to a piano like tune. The band was starting to rearrange their stuff on stage. Their performance was incredible. Levan couldn’t believe he’d gotten distracted for that long.
The club was slowly emptying out considering how late it was. Staff members were starting to leave as well. He glanced at his watch.
2:35 a.m.
Guessing he had no customers or orders left to tend to, he turned around and picked up a few glasses to polish. His mind wandered off to Sergey. They had exchanged a couple of glances during the show. Sergey’s expression always twisted into a shocked one every time he realized Levan was looking at him.
Cute.
And when the songs finally ended, Levan had been the first one to cheer. He’d received a couple of weird looks at first but then everyone joined in. Some applauded, while others cheered just as loudly as he did.
And Sergey was staring directly at him as he did so.
"Excuse me…"
Levan jumped at the voice behind him as he turned around.
It was Sergey.
Speak of the devil.
He sat on one of the stools, hands kept to himself as he fidgeted with his bitten fingers. His bangs stuck to his forehead and he still had that sweatshirt on. Didn’t he feel hot in that thing?
A faint blush colored his cheeks and nose. Probably from the performance.
This was his chance.
"Well if it isn’t the star of the show." Levan set the glasses back where he’d taken them and leaned closer. He rested his head on his hand as he stared directly at him. Sergey seemed shocked and slowly backed up from the sudden closeness. The man gave Levan a faint smile that looked more like a grimace. Levan laughed and leaned back for his sake.
"Saw you on there." He said.
"I…I noticed." Of course he did. He only looked at him during the whole show.
Levan hummed in acknowledgment. "You were great you know?" Even if it was closing time, what’s the risk of one little order? He slid the menu toward him. "I’ve never seen a crowd so lively before."
"…Really?" Sergey took the menu and glanced down at it.
"Seriously! You should be proud."
Silence settled around them, the creak of chairs and the low murmur of Russian from the band filled the space. The boss was talking to the musicians as they tidied up the stage. He could hear it from afar. Levan glanced past Sergey. "You’re not helping them?"
"N-no. I already took care of my stuff."
What’s the harm in teasing a little?
"So you came over to me? Can’t get enough can you?" Levan teasingly joked around.
"No! I swear! I just saw you and wanted to say thank you for… um…" Sergey drifted off.
"For?" Levan leaned closer, looking directly into his big black eyes. A grin spread across his face.
"For tonight!" Sergey accidentally yelled, his voice was loud enough to earn a few glares from the people still in the club. Levan laughed at his nervousness.
He now fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. "You helped me with lifting those boxes… instead of leaving me there."
"Um…and thank you for cheering me on. I think…"
"No one’s ever been that kind to me before." He muttered as he finally managed to make eye contact with Levan.
He was one of the most pathetic guys Levan had ever seen.
"Of course." Levan’s stare softened at him. He looked at the menu then back at Sergey. "So! What can I get for you?"
Sergey’s eyes scanned the paper. None of them looked appealing as they were mostly alcohol. But what could he do? A pinkish drink stood out to him. "I’ll take this one…" He pointed to the beverage.
"The cherry margarita? Didn’t take you for a cocktail guy." He took back the paper and set it aside as he grabbed a glass.
"I don’t really drink."
"Consider this a special occasion!"
"Yeah…special."
Levan took the shaker and added cherry syrup. He turned his back to grab a bottle of tequila. "So after this one, back home you guys go right? Or…"
He really shouldn’t be sharing his info with a stranger. "Not really. We’re gonna go to the hotel and—"
"A hotel…The one fifteen minutes from here?" Levan poured the liquor in along with fresh lime juice.
"I guess."
"Pretty sure I live ten minutes away from there. Good ratings I’ve heard. I worked there for a bit but quit." Levan plopped ice into the shaker.
"Why?"
"Customer service was hell. An old woman yelled at me because there were bed bugs in the sheets. I laughed in her face. I didn’t mean to really. But I was the receptionist and the hag had the audacity to throw her purse at me." Levan rolled his eyes as he continued.
"I mean, how are you gonna yell at me for something out of my control? Obviously I didn’t want to go to jail for fighting an old woman so I quit that very same night." Sergey cringed. He was literally going to sleep there.
Levan caught onto his expression. "Don’t get it twisted! She was the one that brought them over. We had a good cleaning team back then. Great people."
"Pretty sure they’re still there. I think so. I mean I worked there like…what?" Levan looked away, pondering.
"Two years ago?" Sergey frowned and groaned as he laid his head on his arms on the table. Levan giggled at the devastation on his face as he shook the liquid.
"But anyway, I thought working here would soothe my worries which technically did. Big tips and all that…something I probably shouldn’t discuss with a customer…" Levan muttered the last bit.
"But customer service here is worse. You’ve got people complaining and bitching." He opened the shaker and poured it into the glass. "Just a week ago some guy asked me for no ice and got mad when it wasn’t cold."
"That’s stupid." Sergey watched the liquid pour into the glass. "Yup, it is. But what can I do? Stupid people do stupid things." Levan sighed taking the single cherry left from Sirenia’s shenanigans and garnishing the drink with it.
"Here you go." Levan slid the drink in front of Sergey, who gratefully accepted it. He lifted the glass and took a sip, immediately wincing at the bittersweet taste settling on his tongue. His throat burned as he swallowed.
"People seriously drink this?" He set the glass down, cringing at the aftertaste. It was even worse.
"Are you telling me I make horrible drinks? I’m hurt Sergey." Levan dramatically wiped a fake tear.
"No! It’s just…n-not my type of thing." He quickly retorted and grabbed the glass again attempting to down it in one go. He choked halfway through.
Levan laughed at the sight and handed him a few napkins. Sergey felt sick. The taste was worse now. He wanted to spit it back out. "See? It’s…" He hesitated and popped the cherry into his mouth hoping it would make the horrible taste go away. It didn’t. "It’s good." He stifled a gag.
Levan smiled widely, giggles escaping him as he looked down at him. Sergey faintly blushed under his stare.
Cute. Sergey thought.
"Sergey!" A man’s voice called out. He looked back to see his bandmates at the exit. It was Nikita, his cousin, holding Nikolai by the shoulder as he pushed the door open. "You coming?"
"Yeah dude it’s like fucking what—" Felix yelled checking the clock. "Oh dudes I totally can’t read…but it’s probably like four or something man!"
"It’s three in the morning." Vika corrected.
"It’s three in the morning bro! We’ve got another gig here! And the day after and the day after!"
"Basically a month." Vika corrected again.
Sergey stiffened. They were playing here for a month?
"…Get your sweet ass up here bro! You were totally rad but if we want more radness we need those eight hours!"
"Yeah man tell your boyfriend goodbye!" Nikolai shouted.
Felix turned, put his hands behind his back and made exaggerated kissing noises. The group laughed as they stepped out of the club and their voices faded into the street.
Levan noticed Sergey’s stiff posture and the exchange clearly confused. "What did they say?"
"I-I should probably get going. They’re waiting on me." He fumbled in his pocket, searching for his wallet. Sergey’s fingers brushed against something else instead. It was a compact disc.
When they received the band’s merchandise for the tour, Sergey had been offered one of the CDs completely forgetting to put it in his bag but instead in his pocket. What was the point of keeping it anyway? He was the one making the music.
"How much do I owe you?" Sergey asked quietly. Levan waved him off. "It’s on the house."
Sergey pulled out the CD and placed it on the table. Levan’s mouth fell open as he stared at it. The cover had the group’s name printed in bold and the design splattered with what looked like blood.
TWO-NSFV.
Levan still had no idea what the name meant.
"H-here. For everything. It’s the least I can do." Sergey stood up preparing to leave.
Levan gently took the disc and flipped it over. On the back were all their song titles and the band members names. Thank God he was a music freak and still had an old CD player at home. He smiled as he looked up. "Thank you."
Levan felt his cheeks heat up at the gift. "I’ll be working tomorrow. Care to visit? I’ll make a drink for you. No alcohol this time promise." He offered.
"I will. A-after we perform I mean." Sergey fidgeted with his fingers.
"You guys are coming here again?" Levan paused.
"Yeah for a month… At least that’s what they said."
This might’ve been Levan’s wet dream.
"So…um. See you later um…" He had just realized that during this whole night, he’d never gotten his name.
"It’s Levan. Levan Giorgadze."
"God I don’t think I can say that last part." Sergey laughed a little. "But I’ll see you later Levan…" Sergey waved goodbye as the door closed behind him.
They were performing for a whole month. And he was going to see him tomorrow. He grabbed the CD tightly and jumped around like a high schooler in love. He couldn’t wait. He turned the disc over again and read the name carefully.
Sergey Solovyov.
He grinned from ear to ear and was unable to stop the way his cheeks hurt from smiling. Levan was going to make Sergey his and he was sure of it.