Chapter Text
The bar that Skylor works at has a steady stream of customers, meaning that there are always new patrons sitting at the bar and long-time customers that all of a sudden stop coming.
One Friday evening, not even an hour into her shift, a new guy takes up the seat at the end of the bar, closest to the door. He’s part of the crowd that comes with the end of the night at the Slither Pit, a fighting ring a block away.
The Pit is technically illegal but it brings in a lot of customers on the nights there are big names in the pit, and therefore brings in a lot of profit. She shouldn’t know about it but it’s a little hard not to when it is literally around the corner.
He ordered an alcohol-free ‘Fire Tomato’, which, despite the alteration, makes him the first one to do so in almost a year. They should have taken it off the menu months ago when people stopped buying it after that guy’s review.
After the first night, she notices that the new guy starts coming every night at ten, even when there aren’t any ‘big-name’ fights on. She knows that’s it’s the same guy because he has the spikiest brown hair she’s ever seen (he must use at least a barrel of gel) and always wears the same clothes: red button-down and jeans that she’s pretty sure to have drops of blood on them.
Aside from the hair, he’s the only one who orders the ‘Fire Tomato’ anymore. When they introduced it a year ago, it was immensely popular. It was, essentially, a Red Snapper with Scorpion Tabasco instead of the usual red Tobasco. Then an idiot with no spice tolerance whatsoever tried it, reviewed it and gave it a bad name.
She’s one of few bartenders working there who will willingly talk to the customers, most of the others only talk to patrons because they have to, if they absolutely have to.
And anyways, she’s observant, almost stalkerishly so. Working at a little hole-in-the-wall bar whose main source of customers is an illegal fighting ring means that she has the time to watch the customers.
In her...watching, she’s caught sight of inked letters (could be words or even names) peeking out of the rolled-up sleeves of Fire Tomato-guy’s (she really needs to learn his name) shirt. Deep down, she knows that it’s none of her business and it really isn’t.
But then, almost half a year after he first started showing up, he doesn’t show at his usual time. That night - a Monday - business isn’t great, it’s slowed to a snail’s crawl, despite the big-name fight that’s on.
The few customers there are, she catches talk that ‘the Firestarter’s crazy dangerous tonight’ or some variation of that. From what she’s gathered, the Firestarter is one of the biggest names in the Pit, usually, when he’s in the pit, they’re full up. But not tonight, it seemed.
It’s ticking ever closer to midnight when Fire Tomato-guy finally showed up. He’s once again clad in that red button-down and jeans. Although tonight, he’s got an ugly black-purple bruise that stretches across his face and his left eye is swollen shut.
“One alcohol-free Fire Tomato?” she asked after he had sat down, thinking that she already knew the answer she got the stuff to make it.
“Not tonight, need the alcohol,” Fire Tomato-guy (she really had to learn his name) muttered.
That took her by surprise, this was the first time since he had started coming that he had ordered anything with alcohol in it. Saying nothing, she got about putting together the drink.
Tonight, he has his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and she caught sight of the ink again, it’s not just one name but at least five from what she can see. They’re all inked in different fonts. He spends most of the time staring at them.
After he downed the first one, he ordered another, then another. When he got to four, she chose not to make it for him.
The Fire Tomato is not only a very spicy drink but is made with gin that has a 50.2 alcohol percentage (in short, it was made with rather strong stuff).
“Do you have someone I can call to come to get you?” she asked instead. It’s a question that she asks every regular customer when they’ve had a lot more to drink than their usual; some give her a number to call, most don’t, even fewer don’t ever come back again (those one are probably dead).
“Nah, I’m good,” he dismissed, standing up. His speech is fine, despite how much he has just drunk in the span of almost an hour and a half. To be honest, she’s impressed, he looks pretty much as fine as he did when he first arrived. Most customers that drink that much in that time are usually passed out at their seats by now.
After paying for that night’s drinks, he left twenty minutes before closing.
As she was counting the cash in the register later, the only thing that her mind could think of was the names inked onto the guy’s arm. It’s not uncommon for people to tattoo names onto their skin but when they do, it’s usually for a reason. And that he ordered more than one alcoholic drink when he has only ordered non-alcoholic drinks in the last half a year is strange.
The next evening the clock ticked over to ten PM just as Fire Tomato-guy took his usual seat at the end of the bar closest to the door.
“I owe you an apology,” he said as soon as he had sat down.
“What for?” she asked.
“Last night. You’ve probably noticed how it was the first time I ordered something with alcohol in it?” he asked.
“I did wonder why that was, yes,” she answered, not sure where this was going.
“I’ve pretty much stopped drinking since that night but last night, I kinda...lost control,” he admitted. Before she can say anything, he continued. “It was the one year anniversary of their deaths,”
Not knowing quite what to say, she went with the first thing she could think of. “You ain’t the first person to come regularly who’s lost control on that kind of anniversary. But you said deaths, the plural?”
He cleared his throat before answering.
“I did. You’ve probably heard of that arson attack on the uni last year? How they never found the culprit? That was me, it was an accident, I swear it. That night, I was super drunk, wasn’t thinking straight and did something really stupid. When I woke up the next morning, I found out that I had killed my siblings,” he told her.
God, what does she even say to that? Where does she even start? He’s just admitted to burning down half a university and killing at least five people.
But he was drunk and woke up to probably the worst news ever, short of waking up broke. A voice whispered in her ear, quietly.
“The worst part is, they weren’t all blood-related. I had to just sit there and watch as their parents, and mine, grieved for who they had lost, unable to tell them the truth,” he finished. “Call me a coward but if I do tell them, they’d probably throw me in prison without a second thought. Then I started fighting in the Pit, using that stupid name,” he ranted. “Got these done to remind myself why I vowed to never drink again, no one else deserves to die because I was drunk,” he added, as an afterthought.
Then it all clicked into place.
“I don’t know what to say to the first part. And I don’t know you, at all, but from what I’ve gathered, you’re anything but a coward, Firestarter,” she told him. Using that name clearly caught him off guard, if his facial expression was anything to go off.
“How - how do you know?” he asked.
“One, you admitted to starting a fire. Two, you come in after the Firestarter’s matches have finished. And three, there was talk of the Firestarter ‘losing control’ last night,” she explained. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about what happened last year,” she added.
“You’re really observant,” was all that he could say.
“I am,” she agreed. “Now, do you want a Fire Tomato, without alcohol?” she asked, in hopes of moving away from what had just been discussed.
“Yeah,” he agreed before she set about putting the drink together.
Later that night, just before he left the bar. “Thank you for listening, most people would have been on the phone to the cops as soon as I mentioned what happened last year,” he thanked.
“I’m not most people. And I mean it when I said I’m not gonna tell anyone about it, you have my word. All the stuff that customers tell me under that promise, I could fill a whole book with,” she promised him.
“Sure but I don’t really care what happens to that information anymore,“ he told her.
After that, he made to leave but before he got too far away from the bar, he turned back to face her
“It’s Kai,” he said.
“What?” she asked, pausing in drying a glass. Her brain hadn’t yet caught up.
“My name? it’s Kai,” Fire Tomato-guy - Kai? - told her.
“Oh,” was all that she could say. “It’s…nice to meet you? I’m Skylor,” she supplied.
“You too, Sky,” with that, he was gone, at least until the next evening.