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Angels seemed to sing as the bartender poured the clear, bottom shelf alcohol into the customer’s crystal glass. Tequila, after the man requested the strongest thing his money could buy him.
The bartender, Logan, had just been about to close up for the night. It was Christmas Eve after all, and his family was waiting for him. He had a fiance and three pets, one for every year they had been together - although Logan forbade Patton from buying another. But just as he was about to close the door behind him, a man had stumbled around the corner of the block and practically sprinted over to the outside of The Berry . One pleading look with his hazel eyes - filled with more despair than Logan had ever seen in the eyes of any man - and Logan sighed before opening his doors to the hotel for lost souls. Although, foster home for lost souls may have been a more appropriate term. An internal debate for another time.
He had also been a bit shocked to see him again in the first place. Roman Day, if he remembered correctly. The man that, all those years ago, he had found sucking his ex off in the alley out back after the two had gotten into a fist fight in Logan’s bar. And by extension, as Patton had once said, Roman was the reason Logan finally gave in and asked Patton out on a date, even if it was only because he was willing to do anything to get his mind off the porn he had witnessed.
Logan hadn’t seen him since, and he had concluded that the two semi-toxic lovers must have found refuge in other bars with other men or settled down with each other. The expression on Roman’s face told him which exactly of the two options had come to pass.
And there he was, having aged like fine wine rather than the tequila he was allowing himself to consume. He had downed the drink in one go, the glass clicking against the table when he placed it back down on the bar. He pushed it forward, not meeting Logan’s eye, but the bartender knew he was silently asking for more. Whether or not he was ashamed by it, Logan wasn’t sure. But surely something must have happened for him to be at a bar around ten o’clock on Christmas Eve.
“Roman, isn’t it?” Logan asked while pouring another him another glass, his customer nodding in turn. This time, he slowly drank and Logan watched as his adam’s apple bobbed. The liquid was surely liquid fire in his throat, scorching him as it made the descent into his stomach. Roman then wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand, licking his knuckles in order to consume as much of the alcohol as he possibly could.
Something really bad must have occurred to have left him that shaken up.
“Should I bother asking what happened?” Logan inquired after a moment, studying his fingernails in disinterest. He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, surely his betrothed, but he ignored it in favor of talking to the unfortunate soul seated before him.
Roman shook his head, the forefinger of his right hand tracing the rim of his glass. It was a habit he had acquired over years of wallowing in self-pity, no doubt. While Logan couldn’t entirely remember what the man’s mannerisms had been that night nearly three and a half years ago, he knew that the other hadn’t acted like this. There had been red and orange flames in his eyes that night, flames of anger and love and longing for the other man.
Heaven only knows what had happened between the two of them the night they left together, what had happened between them the years ever since.
“If not why you’re not elsewhere, how about why you are specifically here?”
The other paused, the finger on the top of his glass slipping down the body and brushing against the wooden bar top. “Isn’t that basically the same question?”
“Depends on your interpretation, I suppose,” Logan replied, “why this bar over others, a bar over family, friends, or lovers . . .”
“Is this not where people go when they have none? Or when they have lost all of them?”
“Hardly ever on Christmas,” Logan said after a moment of consideration. “I would have expected to see you on Valentine’s Day if anything. Many men come then when dealing with boy troubles, many more options for them.”
Roman laughed, the sound startling the bartender more than he would have cared to admit. There was no joy in the sound, none at all.
“Love has failed me on all grounds, my friend. Deceived me at the very least.” And yet there was no resentment on his tongue, no harsh feelings to whatever ex-lover had most recently shattered his soul and heart. Sadness was the only emotion present, his words depressing in every sense of the word.
And he spoke as if it were true, that love had not stricken his with an arrow, but instead had driven a dagger through his heart.
Logan poured him another glass, one that Roman kicked back fairly quickly.
He looked up then, Logan able to see his bloodshot eyes swelling with tears. From the liquor, no doubt, and all the glasses he must have had before then. The realization settled then, Logan realizing that Roman had spent his Christmas Eve, after five o’clock, stumbling from bar to bar - and maybe began drinking at home far before. To drink himself to death.
Before Logan could say anything, his phone rang again.
“I have to take this,” Logan said, pushing the bottle of tequila away before walking towards the other side of the bar.
He didn’t have to check to know that it was Patton, especially seeing as he was the only one that had the number of his burner phone that Patton had forced him to get. He was skeptical when it came to technology, but Patton wanted to be able to get a hold of him whenever he needed to. Had said he’d use it for emergencies, but he often sent hearts and called to check up on him. It was adorable, even though he pretended to be annoyed by it, so he never complained about his wasted minutes.
He flipped it open before answering, “Hello, darling.”
“Hey, coming home soon?” his peppy fiance replied, knowing fully well that his lover was curled up besides the fire with the dogs in his lap, and by the faint singing he could hardly distinguish in the background, watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas .
“Soon, one more guy I need to take care of and then I’m closing up.”
Patton hummed in reply, thinking before saying, “Okay, don’t take too long. Your sister’s here, and convinced you’re out with a mistress.”
“You better not be,” a feminine voice said, Logan assuming that she had grabbed the phone from Patton and was now holding it out of his reach. “He’s a good one, I have no idea how you convinced him to marry you, but don’t you dare waste it!”
Patton laughed into the phone after snatching it back, Logan able to see the other’s bright expression behind his closed his eyelids. “Okay, I love you!”
Before Logan could reply, the other hung up, Logan closing and lowering his phone while attempting to smother his smile.
But when he looked towards the lone man sitting at the bar, his smile vanished completely. There was no family waiting for him, it seemed, no beautiful fiance or sister that brought homemade eggnog or three little puppies that would cuddle and love him until the day they died. All he had was himself and the many, many drinks he had had.
Roman was staring in front of him, not longingly at a bottle but just out into space. Lost in his own head and most likely desperate to get out, Logan was sure.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Logan said, striving to keep his facial expression neutral. Roman didn’t meet his gaze, not even when he stood directly in front of him. The other hardly even noticed the movement. “Is there anyone you can call? Or I can call for you.”
“An uber,” he mumbled in reply, letting his face drop into the palm of one of his hands before he ran his fingers through his hair. It was snarled and tangled, surely having been tugged at again and again throughout the entirety of his night.
And yet despite his distressed appearance, Logan was definitely the first to offer his help.
“What about that guy, Dauntel?”
Roman laughed, the sound sadder than anything else Logan had heard all night from him. “He wouldn’t come, has a wife and kids for all I know.”
Logan’s voice remained void of emotions as he said, “Last I saw, he was getting his dick sucked so I really, really doubt that.”
“He could be bi, for all you know.”
“You were fortunate enough not to see the look in his eyes. That man, if not gay, wouldn’t settle down, I know.”
Roman nodded, “Yeah, could never settle down.”
Not the best thing Logan could have said, then.
“Call him, Christmas miracles and all that.”
Not the most encouraging thing, but Roman gave a small nod. He was just intoxicated enough to listen, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts. Logan took the glass from in front of him, washing it and keeping his eyes averted.
“Hey,” the other said after a moment, his words sounding choked. “Yeah, Virge, it’s me.”
Logan didn’t care enough to listen to much else, walking to the end of his bar and then rounding it in order to tidy his bar. He had already done so beforehand, seeing as he had been about to leave nearly half an hour ago, but he thought it would be best to offer the other as much privacy as he could. It was Roman’s fault for being that drunk, after all, and had laws not been in place to make Logan responsible for the other’s actions, he wouldn’t have even done this much. But he could give privacy, his Christmas gift to him.
Roman lowered the phone when Logan returned, fixing the bar stool as Roman stood up. “He’s coming.”
Logan looked up, seeing the other’s flushed cheeks. Whether it be from the alcohol, the phone call, or a mixture of both, Logan wasn’t entirely sure, but he would have bet on the latter of the three.
Minutes later, a car horn blared from outside. Roman rose onto his tiptoes, biting his bottom lip before he nodded and walking towards the door. His movements were far from graceful, so Logan trailed him from a distance to make sure he wouldn’t teeter backwards.
“That’s him,” he said after a moment, clutching the door knob and slowly turning it.
“I figured,” Logan replied, trying to keep the bitterness out of his words. He was trying to be gentle, he was currently dealing with a fragile creature.
When Roman managed to finally open the door, Logan placed a hand on his elbow to help him out and balance him. However, the other misjudged the step down from the door and collapsed, luckily, into the arms of Virgil Dauntel.
“Hello to you too,” the other said, a blue scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face softening his words. But Logan could hear the chuckle, the amusement practically gleaming in his eyes.
After quickly locking the door, Logan was half-convinced that having Roman call Virgil was a bad idea and that he should have simply taken him home himself.
Virgil’s arms were wrapped around his waist and Roman was leaning against him for support, face still buried into the crook of his neck. And just as he had that night, Virgil’s eyes were locked on Logan.
“You know where he lives?” Logan asked, more concerned about Roman’s safety than he was about his own comfort level because although he would prefer to never have to stare into Virgil’s eyes ever again, he would rather not hear about the poor, beautiful boy that was drugged, raped, and abandoned on Christmas. He would feel guilty, and to some extent, responsible.
“I would think so,” Virgil replied, fingers running through Roman’s hair soothingly. He closed his eyes then, leaning down to nuzzle his cheek against Roman’s hair and only then did Virgil see the other’s intent. Not sex, no. Virgil was genuinely concerned for Roman, whatever he was to him, and had been trying to play it off as if he didn’t. Embarrassed about the way he felt, or maybe he just wasn’t one to show his affections so freely as opposed to his lover.
“Will there be someone to take care of him? A friend, or something?”
“Yeah, I will,” Virgil assured, eyes opening. Roman, it seemed, had fallen asleep in the other’s arms. Virgil sighed before reaching down to slip an arm under his knees, lifting him with strength he didn’t appear to have. He then opened the passenger’s side door, placed him inside, and even buckled his seatbelt before glancing back at Logan.
“And you are?” Logan prompted, gaze flickering down to his left hand. No ring, of course. Roman had said love failed him, so he hadn’t expected there to be.
“A friend, or something” was his only reply, Virgil giving a wink before rounding the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. Roman had stirred, moving to lean his head against Virgil’s shoulder. The other smiled, oblivious to Logan still watching, and kissed the top of Roman’s head before driving away.
And Logan just stared, watching the car until it turned a few blocks down and disappeared from view.
He gave a small nod, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and checked the time on his phone. 10:28, he’d be home in time to see his sister before she left. A Christmas miracle, it seemed.