Chapter Text
Bass exhaled and let the smoke curl in the cold winter air. The dim light emanating from the bar windows barely provided much to see by, but he wasn’t going to be out there long. Just a quick smoke break, one more drink, and then he’d head home to his shitty apartment. He stared at the burnt end of the cigarette before dropping it on the ground and crushing it with his boot.
The bar was lively that night. Many people in pairs or groups were chatting as music played from the speakers in the back. Bass however, came alone. Not that he cared. The less people the better he always thought. Besides, people here mostly ignored him. Which was why this bar was one of his favorites. That, and his fake ID usually did the trick.
He took one more glance at the bar counter before heading back to his usual seat, but paused for a moment. There was some guy sitting in his usual spot. He looked barely younger than him, with messy brown hair and a dorky pair of sunglasses (at night no less). What really threw him off was how he was just sitting there with a glass of apple juice, doodling on a napkin. What a weirdo. Bass walked over and took the seat next to him.
“Are you drinking apple juice by yourself? That’s fucking sad, dude,” Bass said. The other boy glanced up at him. He seemed surprised someone was talking to him.
“Yeah I am. Do you have a problem with that?” He asked jokingly.
“Yeah actually. Listen, because you look totally pathetic right now, I will go out of my way to buy you a drink.” The boy quickly shook his head.
“You don’t have to do that- Besides I can't drink anyway.”
“Look, you drinking apple juice alone is just fucking sad. I’ll buy you a real drink,” he said, waving down the bartender. But the boy persisted.
“No really I can’t drink- I’m sick-“
“What you got a fucking cold? Who cares?” He asked the bartender for two beers, showing him the fake ID.
“No I mean really sick-“ Bass rolled his eyes as he slid him his drink.
“Come on, you got the shits or something? One drink won’t hurt dude,” Bass persisted. He was cracking up about something.
“No dude, like, I’m dying,” he said casually. Bass shrugged.
“Well fine more beer for m- Wait did you say you’re dying?” Bass nearly spat out his drink. This guy was laughing at him now.
“Yeah I am. Doctors say I shouldn’t drink. But I still like hanging out here. Nice atmosphere,” he shrugged, sipping his apple juice. Bass was thrown off by how casually he was about his own mortality. What the fuck was with this guy.
Bass had never seen him before, but now he just came in as if he’d been coming here his whole life.
“You like coming here? I’ve never seen you in my fucking life.”
“Nope. First time here actually,” he said while returning to drawing on a napkin. Bass hated this guy, yet wanted to know more about him. He seemed...too trusting. Like he didn’t care at all. Yet behind all that, there was something mysterious about him. God, Bass felt stupid just for thinking that.
“So weirdo, you got a name?” Bass said, halfway through one of the beers.
“Yeah,” he said absentmindedly. He didn’t elaborate. Bass was starting to lose his patience with this guy.
“Well are you gonna fucking share or leave me to guess,” he said irately. He suddenly wished he was drunk. If only he didn’t have to work tomorrow.
“Huh, oh sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s Blues, my name is Blues.” He quickly shoved the napkin in his pocket.
Bass started on the second beer. “Well Blues, you’ve got some fucking balls sitting in my usual spot.” Blues cocked his head.
“Well you weren’t using it. I just walked in and here it was, prime for sitting. Free real estate.” Bass rolled his eyes. His expression was obscured by the sunglasses, but Bass could tell he enjoyed making fun of him.
“Smart ass,” he mumbled. The nerve of this guy. Bass almost found it amusing. He probably would if he was drunk. He was mostly trying not to find it endearing. Bass wasn’t exactly the talkative type, but here he was having a conversation with some jerk who happened to take his seat.
“You from around here?” He asked. Not that he cared, but he felt like he had to know more about this guy. Blues took another sip of his apple juice.
“Outside the city,” he stated. He didn’t seem that interested in this topic.
“And how’d you get out here,” Bass questioned. Blues turned away.
“I dunno. I left home, just kinda kept going. Doesn’t really matter though. Now I’m here,” he said dejectedly. Bass changed the subject.
“You go to college out here?” Bass felt weird taking such an interest in him, but Blues didn’t seem to automatically hate him with every fiber of his being. That, and his morbid curiosity got the better of him. Blues laughed a bit at his question.
“Nah, I don’t have time for college.” Bass was a little worried by his phrasing, but didn’t really press.
“Do you?” Blues asked.
“When I feel like it,” he said, sipping his beer.
“You just don’t go when you don’t feel like it?”
“Yeah. I don’t give a shit. Once my fucking dad stops paying for college I’m done with this place for good,” he muttered. Blues seemed more interested now.
“Do you...hate your dad?” Bass almost spat out his drink again. He was gonna fucking lose it.
“Wh- that’s not your business,” he growled. Blues threw his hands up defensively.
“Ok, ok, bad topic,” he said. “Alright well...you got a job or something?” He quickly tried to change the subject. Bass calmed down a bit.
“I uh...I work part time at an animal shelter,” he said, a little embarrassed. No one really knew about it. Besides, no one from school ever went there, so it was easy to keep secret. He had to keep up his tough guy persona somehow. Blues perked up.
“You work at an animal shelter? Dude that sounds awesome!” Bass drummed his fingers against the bar counter. Why was he telling him all this? Wasn’t he the one asking questions a second ago? Bass finished his beer before checking the time. Jesus Christ it was later than he thought.
“Yeah, I do. But don’t tell anyone or I’ll punch you in the face or something,” he said, even more embarrassed. “Well uh, it’s late man so, I’m gonna go. I’ll probably see you around or whatever,” he said standing up.
“You might,” Blues started, “but just in case would you take this?” he asked, before taking out another napkin and writing furiously on it, and holding it out to him. Bass gave him a puzzled look before taking it. It was covered in some doodles, but in the center, written in messy handwriting was a phone number. Bass looked back at Blues, but found he had already walked out the door.