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He had been wearing glasses.
When you first spotted him, laughing and drinking with his friends at the bar, his eyes had been obscured by a pair of dark sunglasses, shielding them from your view. You weren’t sure why that mattered so much to you. But as the night progressed and your mind got more clouded, and his infectious laughter and smile burned themselves brighter into your brain, the secrecy became oddly grating. You worked up your courage, finishing your beer and preparing yourself to approach him, but when you brought your glass down, he was gone.
You panicked, straightening up quickly and scanning the crowd. A sudden burst of noise caught your attention and you paused your search to find its source, your eyes drawn to the small stage at the back of the bar where a band sat waiting. Piano, bass, acoustic guitar, and a small drum kit crowded together. And stepping up to join them… there he was. The boy you’d spent the night eyeing. A note was struck, an upsurge of music followed, and when you saw him take the microphone from its stand, your heart leapt with nervous anticipation.
Sickeningly pretty, he stood tall and loose upon the stage, swaying his hips softly to the music, waiting for his queue. His lips parted and your gut flipped at the sound of his voice; warm, angelic, only slightly inebriated. He worked the crowd confidently - a smile that was 5 parts cheeky, 5 parts sweet - plastered on his beaming face. The other patrons’ reactions spoke volumes and you realized quickly that this was a regular event for them; they knew him well enough to capture their undivided attention, although you felt he was captivating enough to bewitch anyone within a ten mile radius of the bar. And you would tell him that. You swore to yourself that you would. Because you weren’t leaving tonight without introducing yourself.
You readied yourself as you watched him leave the stage, stopping to kiss the pianist on the cheek and offer the small crowd a wave before stepping down and into the obscure dark of the back corner. The radio resumed quickly, offering a good background radiation to the chatter between friends and the punctuating clink of glasses surrounding you, ebbing. Lifeblood of nightclub. You fought to stay focused through the noise, keeping your eyes trained to spot him. It shouldn’t have been difficult, his hair was bright blue, and those blasted sunglasses… but he had taken those off. You saw them sitting on the counter in a quiet corner of the bar beside him, just as you were beginning to worry that he had left. Inhaling sharply, you strode toward him, heels clicking on the tacky wooden floor. You straightened your leather jacket, ran a shaking hand through your curly dark hair, and cleared your throat; shifting your weight to rest your elbow on the bar in what you hoped was a casual gesture.
“Hey duck,” you started, but whatever clever thing you had planned to say was dashed from your mind when he turned to meet your eyes. Empty sockets stared back at you hazily. No, not empty, just black. His eyes were stark black, clouded over with something dark and fluid and… mesmerizing. They glittered in the overhead fluorescent lights, reflecting hidden galaxies back to you. Somewhere beneath the shroud, you could almost make out hints of blue, like shattered glass. You realized your mouth had paused open and you shut it swiftly with a click, your dark cheeks flushing darker. He chuckled at you, not unkindly, and stuck his hand out in a bizarrely polite gesture, given your current venue, the fact that you had both been getting equally smashed, and your unbelievably rude behaviour.
“’ello,” he said amiably, and you shook his hand, your fingers shaking. “Didn’t mean to scare ya - sorry about my–”
“Your eyes are really beautiful,” you blurted suddenly, and a silence fell between the two of you. You clapped a hand to your mouth in horror. His cheeks burned with a blush that spread all the way to his ears. You backtracked painfully.
“I mean–shit–what I meant–FUCK!!” His gaze fell to the floor, and you noticed his fingers beginning to fidget in his lap.
“It’s okay, you don’t have’ta–”
“No.” You sighed, shaking your head, laughing in spite of yourself. “I did mean it. I did. Forget I took it back.”
“They are sort of scary…”
“They’re lovely,” you argued, smiling at him. Hesitantly, he smiled back. “Bit of a gimmick?” you asked. He shook his head.
“Hyphema. They’re fractured. I was in a car accident, it happens sometimes with head trauma. The eyes fill up with blood. Usually it goes away, but sometimes it leaves stains.”
“Satan, I’m sorry,” you said nervously; but despite your anxiety you still took a seat beside him, intrigued. He shook his head again, folding up his glasses and placing them in his lap.
“S’okay,” he said, smiling. “It was years ago. I don’t even wear the glasses all the time, just on nights when I think I might get a headache. Lights can come through… odd.”
“Makes sense,” you said, getting comfortable. The initial discomfort had mostly faded away, and you felt you could relax, turn on the charm like you’d initially planned. You glanced from his face to his drink; a bottle of peach cider. Bittersweet. Nearly empty. You approved.
“Can I buy you another drink?” you asked, your wallet ready.
He watched you for a moment, and you felt him sizing you up through deep black holes… but then he grinned, tipping back the last of his bottle and setting it on the counter with a satisfying, hollow clink.
“I’d like that,” he said, and you watched his body relax into his seat again, the same casual looseness that had caught your eye at the beginning.
You smiled and waved the bartender over, ordering two of the same and complimenting him on his choice of liquor, even if it seemed a tad outdated. You were buttering him up, and besides you weren’t really lying. Your choice would just have been… a tad stronger. But he was happy with his drink, and you were happy to see him happy. You drank and talked together until his eyes were swimming and sleepy. And when his friends came back to take him home, you promised to come by again to hear him sing. You didn’t resist when he leaned in close to offer you a sloppy peck on the cheek.
You didn’t mind one bit.