Chapter Text
It started after your first meeting.
You sit in a high chair, watching the bartender in front of you fill your glass with the bubbly, amber liquid your whole body ached for. Once he filled it up, he set it on the shiny, wooden counter in front of you. You thank him quickly, then grasp the mug firmly in your hands, admiring the way the ivory foam trails down the glass and pools by your hand. You bring the mug up to your lips and take a sip.
God, you needed this.
You’re not the type to drink often, but this is an emergency. You’d been working excessively hard this week, and your boss has been on your ass like white on rice, pushing you to the edge of a mental breakdown. Stress had been the only thing on your mind this week, you craved a break from the overwhelming negative feelings this week berated you this. Fortunately, this local bar has you covered.
You swivel around in the chair in order to get a look at your surroundings. This bar is small. Not that you mind, though. You wanted to find a bar that was local and homey, far enough from the city so you wouldn’t run into any coworkers or other awkward acquaintances. You want to be a stranger tonight, completely insignificant and ignored, so you could absorb the ambiance of the area you decided to reside in. The lights are dim enough to give the space a relaxed aura, but still bright enough so you could see everything going on around you semi-clearly. A small pool table sits in the corner of the bar, about ten feet away. An older gentleman in a cowboy hat and younger man play pool together while chatting aimlessly about their lives. There are a few tables and chairs strewn about the bar as well, but most were empty. A couple of seats are taken by some lonely individuals, casually drinking by themselves like you. The sounds of clinking glass, the voices of the pool players, and the soft murmuring of an old, flatscreen TV on a random news channel all blended together, providing you with a little background noise to enjoy your beer to. If you concentrate hard enough, you could hear the faint sound of crickets singing in the night. Bars like these are the best. Cheap drinks, nice ambiance, no bustle of a city bar, what’s not to love?
You exhale softly through your nose, finally feeling yourself wind down for the first time this week. You made a good choice to come here.
Ding!
You glance over to the door, the sudden sound and movement of a figure instinctively making you look over. A man walks in. You’re not sure if simply calling him “a man” is doing the guy justice, though. He’s almost obnoxiously tall, having to bend down to fit in the doorframe, however, his upright bangs still hit the top of the metal frame. He’s equally obnoxiously muscular, his tight forest green shirt allowing you to trace the outline of his muscles. He looks like some sort of comic character, or bodybuilder, or a swimsuit model, or maybe….
He couldn’t be.
A hero.
Heroes were especially uncommon in spaces like these. No, he couldn’t be anyone too important if he’s visiting here.
You turn back around in your chair, facing the counter once more. You didn’t want to give the guy a creepy first impression by the way you studied his physique. He was probably here for the same reason as you, needing a break from how hectic life is.
You hear him walk over to where you are and see him sit in a chair a couple of seats away from you out of the corner of your eye. You have to admit, he’s handsome. You didn’t come here to find romance or anything, but there’s no harm in appreciating one’s beauty, right? You take a few quick glances at him, each time examining some new feature about him. His cobalt eyes studying the drink menu in his large hands, his shiny, blond hair, the way his shirt enables you to easily study his incredibly built form…he truly is a piece of art.
An abrupt “ahem” from the man makes you jump. His voice is definitely as powerful as his figure.
“I hate to sound cliché,” He states. His voice is deep and sincere, “but do you come here often?”
You cock a brow. Is he sincerely trying to flirt with you using that line?
He picks up the drink menu, then gestures it towards you, “I’m afraid I’m new here…I’m not sure what to order.”
Oh. Maybe you got a little cocky.
You shrugged, “sorry man. This is my first time here, too,” you point at your drink, “you cant go wrong with a beer, though.”
He chuckles. It’s fleeting and soft, but you could hear the sound reverberate through his chest, “I guess you’re right, then.” He waves to the bartender and orders a beer. The bartender does the same routine as he did with you, and in a couple of minutes, he’s having the same thing.
He takes a sip of the beer. You glance over at him once more, esteeming the way his throat bobs as he drinks. He stops and sets down his mug.
“You were right,” he says, sighing in content to punctuate his sentence.
“I know. I’m a alcoholic genius,” you retort sarcastically.
He gives another soft laugh. You feel a little warm inside. You couldn’t differentiate whether it was from the alcohol or successfully making this guy laugh multiple times tonight.
You continue to nurse your drink, taking a couple of mouthfuls of it every now and then. The guy beside you is reading something on his phone while drinking, seeming to ignore your presence for now. You feel a little hurt, but you remind yourself that you didn’t come here to meet anyone. Just to relax and free your mind. You allow your mind to melt into your surroundings again, picking up on the steady chattering of the men at the pool table and the TV’s muttering. You closed your eyes and inhaled softly, the smell of unobtrusive cigarette smoke and various types of alcohol wafted into your nose. It was oddly synesthetic.
“Excuse me,” the man beside you speaks again, snapping you out of your trance. You look over to him again, “may I ask what you’re doing here this time of night?”
“Tough day at work,” you say while stretching, “I just needed to find a place away from everything to relax.”
He nods, agreeing with your sentiment.
“What about you?” You ask, suddenly remembering it takes two to facilitate a conversation.
“I guess you can say we’re here for similar reasons. My line of work can be pretty straining at times.”
“Oh really? What do you do?”
He hesitates. “I’m…a hero,” he responds, his voice very noticeably lower than before.
“Hm. That’s tough, man,” you respond, trying to be comforting, “I’ve heard how hard hero work is. I hope your career is going well, at least. I know you guys get a lot of shit sometimes.”
His eyes widen, ever so slightly, “Do you…not know who I am?”
Your face twists in confusion, “Is that a problem?”
He smiles, it’s not big or bright or anything remarkable. Just a plain smile, “No. It’s refreshing, actually.”
“Okay then…”
He swivels around to face you straight on. It’s a little intimidating, even though he is not that close to you. His body is huge in comparison to yours. He gestures to the chair beside you.
“May I?”
You nod, “Sure.”
He gets up from his chair, drink in hand, and sits down. He is a lot more intimidating up close. You wonder why anyone would want to be a villain knowing a guy like this just exists.
He lifts his hand up to you, “Pleased to meet you…” He trails off, signifying to you to give him your name.
You introduce yourself, “and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mister…” You say, poking fun at his excessive politeness.
“Just call me Toshinori.”
You shake his hand.
You stayed at the bar way longer than you intended. Thankfully, the drinks here are extremely affordable. You had a few beers with Toshinori, spending time talking about your lives and laughing heartily. The two of you didn’t realize the time until the bartender announced it was time for him to close up shop. You didn’t want to stop talking to Toshinori, but there was really no other option for you two to continue tonight.
You slide off your seat and let your feet hit the ground. As you try to stand up, you stumble suddenly and steady yourself with the counter. Maybe you had one too many tonight…
Toshinori reaches out to you, letting you grip onto his arm for support, “are you okay?” He asks, genuine concern in his voice. He can hold his liquor pretty well, you note. He’s completely fine right now after a few glasses, the only symptom he has is a tint of pink on his cheeks.
You shake your head, “no, I think I had a little too much tonight…I have to get home…” you mumble. You can’t drive home or anything in this state. You shouldn’t have drunk so much tonight.
“It’s okay. I’ll order you a cab.”
“Oh, you really don’t—“ He cut you off.
“No, please allow me to do this for you. I’m the one who made you stay so late, right?”
You smile at him. It’s not forced like the ones you had to give others lately. It’s real. It’s genuine. You notice the tint on his cheeks darken, “thank you.”
Toshinori smiles back, “you’re welcome.”
You turn around to the bartender, intent on paying your tab. It took you a little time to calculate how many bills to grab from your pocket, along with a sensible tip, considering your inebriated state, but you get it done eventually. He thanks you and puts it in the register, then hands you a copy of the tab. Toshinori walks back over to you after calling the cab and pays his too.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye…” you say, disappointed. You didn’t want this to be your last meeting with Toshinori. There was some sort of attraction between you and him. You couldn’t discern the feeling, and maybe you were overestimating it in your drunken stupor, but something was obviously there. You put on your jacket, preparing to leave.
“Wait!” He stutters out. He grabs his receipt and scribbles on it, then hands it to you, “for you. Let me know you got home safe.”
There’s a cluster of digits on the paper. You feel warm inside. Really warm. “Goodnight, Toshinori. I’ll text you when I’m home, “ you give him a limp wave, then head out the door.
Toshinori watches you leave, feeling a little empty inside when you walk open the door and leave, the little ding of the bell on the door announcing you’re really gone. He feels the heat on his cheeks, thanking the stars the alcohol was working as a cover-up for the way he’s feeling.
Suddenly, he coughs. It’s a deep cough, something he can’t stop voluntarily, so he lets it pass through him. He feels something, a thin object, come up his throat and coughs it into his hand.
He couldn’t tell what it was at first. However, on close analysis, he recognizes the object.
A violet lilac petal.
For someone that you just met, purple lilac blooms are appropriate – they signify the first emotions of love.