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Keith sits silently at the bar, drinking a peach samba. A bit gross, sure, but cheap and sweet. The bartender is a friend of his, so whenever he comes, his first three drinks are free. This is his… fifth? Seventh? He’s lost count.
A man sits next to him and taps the bar gently.
“Can I get a vodka cranberry, Allura?” He says.
“Got one ready for ya beb.” She hands him a plastic cup with his drink in it from the fridge. He stakes a sip and winces.
“Always stronger than I remember…” He chuckles.
“You ready?” Allura leans on the bar and Keith finishes his drink, pretending not to listen.
“Never.” He shakes his head.
“You’ll do fine.” She reaches out and tugs his ear. “You always do. Keith, can I get you another?”
“Bourbon this time.” He snarls.
She stares at him for a moment, worried. He never drinks this much, even on his free drinks.
“Soon, please.” He sighs. “I can’t stand much longer without something strong.”
“Ok hon.” She turns around and gets the bottle down. “On the rocks or-”
“Straight. And get a gin coming after, please. Dirty.”
“Sure.” She puts the bourbon in front of me and he takes a long sip, pulling a cigarette out from behind his ear and lights it, taking a drag and slumping slightly.
“I’m sorry.” the man says, leaning against the bar next to him. “I can’t say it enough.”
Keith doesn’t say anything.
“Are you going to talk to me or are you gonna sit there drinking and sulking like a six year old?”
“What six year old alcoholic are you talking to?” He scoffs, finishing his drink.
He laughs. “Come on, Keith. Give me one more chance.”
“Why should I?” He turns to face him, gripping his glass so tight he’s afraid it’ll break.
“Because you love me.”
“You have no idea how much I wish I didn’t.” He stares him dead in the eyes for a minute. “Lance, you left me at the altar.”
“I’m sorry, he did what?” Allura almost drops the bottle of gin. “My Lance?”
“What, he didn’t tell you?” Keith scoffs. “Of course not. He cost me thousands of dollars on a wedding he ran out of.”
“Lance, qu'est que ce?” Allura reaches out and smacks him upside the head. Keith winces. “You ass. You never even told me you were engaged!”
“You would’ve insisted on being there!” He groans. “I didn’t want you to see that.”
“Wait, so you planned to run out on me?” Keith’s close to tears now, but he won’t let the man see him cry. “You little-”
“No, Keith, I swear, I didn’t. I just…” He sighs and shakes his head. “I couldn’t…”
“Yeah, I know.” He spits. “You just couldn’t. Because admitting you love me is the worst thing I could ask you to do.” He stands and stalks away, shoving past the bathroom line and locking himself in.
“Come on, man, I’ve been waiting ten minutes!” Coran shouts.
“Shut it, mustachio.” He shouts back, running the water and splashing it over his eyes, trying to wash away the worries along with the smell of alcohol.
It takes him a minute to hear the band playing. Playing his song, his and Lance’s.
“I hate you.”
Keith opens the door, pretending not to see the tears in his reflection, and storms to the front of the crowd.
“I really hate you.”
He never got sick of Lance’s voice. Never stopped wanting to hear him sing.
“So much I think it must be…”
He stands at the stage stairs. Lance isn’t looking at him. If the rest of the band notices, they don’t show it.
“True love.” Lance closes his eyes and turns his face toward the lights, holding the mike above his head, switching casually to Spanish, the accent rolling off of his tongue like water, flowing over the audience and enhancing them. “Amour varadero!”
Keith shakes his head and pulls himself onto the stage. Lance sees him and smiles, pleasantly surprised. The raven boy grabs the spare mike, turns it on during the break, and nods a polite hello to the band. They’re eccatic to see him.
“¡Te dije que funcionaría!” Lance laughs, reaching for Keith. He holds himself a ways away as the club booms with applause.
“Just once try and wrap your, little brain, around my feelings…” he croons into the mike. The girls in the room scream his name. They’ve missed watching him perform.
“Just once, try not to mean.” Lance retaliated. With one arm, Keith tosses his jacket off. He’s wearing a cut off black tank with the Metallica logo on the front, showing his abs and the toned muscles of his arms. Mena and women alike whistle and shriek.
Keith turned to the audience. “Vamanos, he needs to hear it!” He turns the device and the club screams.
“R-O-M-A-N-C-E-E-E-E-E-E-E”
“Bueno, despacio este tiempo?” He cups his ear and looks at Lance cockily as they shout “Romance!”
The brunette rolls his eyes.
“At the same time, I wanna hug you, I wanna wrap my hands around your neck.”
“You’re an asshole.” He shakes his head and doesn’t finish the lyric. Lance does.
“Pero me amas.”
Keith starts to back off the stage, flipping off his ex-fiance. “You still make me so mad, I ask myself, why I’m up here. Where should I go?”
Before he can put down the mike and fully exit the stage, Lance cries, “Eres el único amor que he conocido.”
“Te odio.” Keith whispers, hoping Lance doesn’t hear.
“Lo se.” The band keeps playing despite that neither singer is really singing.
“Dame otra oportunidad?” He pleads. “Solo uno?”
“Si.” He turns slowly with a sad smile. “Pero solo uno.”
“Te amo.” Thank you.
“Te amo.” You’re welcome.
He grabs him, pulling him back up onto the stage, ignoring the screams from the crowd, and kissing him like it’s the first time.
In perfect harmony this time, perfectly synced, “True love… true love… true love… true love…”
“True love…”
“True love…”
“True love.”
“True love…”