Work Text:
Every day is the same. You wake up, go to your dead end job, try to do something at home, but never have enough energy and just sleep through to tomorrow. Over and over again. It's been months since you've seen any of your friends, they're all in the same boat. Working and rotting; Rotting and working.
But today, waking up felt different. Maybe it's the good quality sleep, maybe it's the determination.
“I'm going to *do* something today, goddamn it”, you mutter under your breath.
But what? What exactly could you do? Your mind visualizes the path to work, listing off the various establishments. One calls to you above all others:
Pool.
It's barely a sport. Usually just an excuse to stand around, meet new people, and drink beer. Could be conducive to meeting new people, maybe even a partner? Your mind races at the possibilities.
The pool bar in question is just east of downtown Revachol, it has always looked run down despite its location. But every weekend it's always moderately packed. You consider waiting a couple days as it's only Thursday, but your determination can't be stopped now.
Your occupation requires you to wear business casual attire, but you decide to dress up a little today. A fancy, patterned dress shirt, freshly dry cleaned trousers, a long black greatcoat, and even color matching socks. With a lifted spirit, you finish preparing for yet another day. You lock the door behind you with a soft click.
++++
The work day passes, and it's almost time to go to the bar. The anticipation is tangible, and some of your coworkers remark on your choice of clothing. You don't usually get this dressed up for no reason, after all. Their hollow encouragement helps dissipate some of the anxiety, as you get ready to take the bus down to the bar.
The Revachol bus system leaves much to be desired. Old, rickety busses arrive at their own whim. But at least it means you don't have to drive. Waiting for the right stop, a couple stops before your usual one, makes you antsy. Tapping your foot against the side of the bus, you having to force your breathing to be steady. You push the stop request button at the earliest possible moment, taking a deep exhale as you do so.
This feels like an event that might change things, hopefully for the better. Mustering all of the confidence you have, you push the door to the bar open.
As you step inside, the warm air and a musky smell greets you. Booze, cigarettes, and a little hemp smell hangs in the air – dense and overpowering.
The music is playing loud, but the chatter is louder. It's hard to hear yourself think. The interior looks as if it hasn't been meaningfully updated in at least 50 years. The wood paneling on the walls looks like it's covered with a layer of something oily, along with the sport memorabilia that hangs on it. A chair creaks somewhere close, but you can't seem to place who's, the wall of chatter is a formidable force.
You look around to find most of the bar stools full, people chatting and laughing together. Everyone seems to have a clique they're a part of – a double edged sword. You'll have to approach someone or accept defeat. But you're already here, what's the harm of introducing yourself?
There aren't any empty pool tables, but one small group catches your attention. A group of three people in the middle of a game, chatting away as a woman in the group takes her turn. Her short brown hair slightly obstructing her view as she takes her shot. The two men behind her are talking about something out of earshot, nodding at each other as they have their conversation.
The woman masterfully sends an orange ball into one of the holes, leaving the white one in a position that would make taking the next shot difficult. As she stands up straight, she meets your gaze.
“Hey there, can I help you?” Her voice is soft and unimposing, and you catch a small smile in her eyes, possibly alcohol induced.
“That was impressive.”
“Thanks, I'm pretty glad I made that one.”
“I haven't played pool before, but I'd like to try sometime.”
She glances back at the two men, too deep into conversation to notice.
“I'm sure those two wouldn't mind if you joined us, you could play one of us after my game with Kim.”
She steps closer, outstretching her hand.
“I'm Judit”, she gestures to the two men behind her, “And that's Jean and Kim. Nice to meet you.”
You shake her hand and give her your name.
“Nice to meet you,” you say with a smile.
“I suppose I should grab a cue stick?”
“I think they keep extras behind the bar, but if not you could just borrow mine.”
“Sounds good, I'll be right back.”
You walk over to the bar, and get the attention of the bartender. You get yourself a drink and a cue stick before moving back to the table. Everyone's eyes are on you, observing your outfit. You take off your coat and place it on the back of a nearby stool, sitting down on it to observe the rest of the match. Your drink is cold in your hand, as you sip it you start to feel a mild buzz.
It's Kim's turn now. He walks around the table, eyes transfixed on it. You can see the gears in his brain turning as he squats down to be at eye level with the table. There doesn't seem to be a good move for him from any angle, the cue ball is cornered. Kim stands, walking around to the other side of the table, and takes a shot directly into the table’s border. At first, this makes no sense, but as the ball rebounds off of 3 other walls and hits a striped ball into a pocket, you can't help but gasp. The focus and precision required to make such a shot amazes you.
There's something so attractive about it, you know that if you were to ever face off against him he would wipe the floor with you. But you'd be okay with that.
“Holy shit, Kim,” Jean exclaims. He's in disbelief too.
“That was… wow…”
Kim smiles at you, a barely perceptible smile. Your heart picks up the pace, forcing you to look away and sip your drink for a moment.
He ends up taking 2 more successful shots, before narrowly missing one. Quietly hissing at himself at the outcome.
“Your turn, Judit.”
She grabs her cue stick, mouth still slightly agape. Kim moves aside, standing next to you.
“You guys are really good… I'm probably really in over my head here…”
“We all start somewhere, and I've been playing for a while.”
“I can tell… How did you do that?”
“It's mostly just a visual calculation, with proper aim and strength to follow through. It just takes a while to really hone that.”
He speaks nonchalantly, 2 steps away from pure monotone. This isn't the first time Kim has been asked this question, and it won't be the last.
“Would you mind giving me a couple pointers? I don't really know what I'm doing.”
“Sure, you can play against Jean when Judit and I are done.”
You feel Kim's warmth emanating from him. He's standing quite close, leaning against the tall cocktail table behind you both. You gaze upon him, able to get a much better look now.
He's wearing a plain white button-up shirt. Crisp and clean. It fits him well, it makes you wonder if he got it tailored to him specifically. The pants have a similar amount of detail. It's clear that he cares about his appearance, and how he's perceived. His hair is neat and styled into an almost perfect slick back, with a couple strands standing up near his forehead, short and stubborn. You think about how your hand could wrap around the nape of his head, getting flustered at the thought. His glasses framing his face, there's something so endearing about how thick the lenses are.
The clack of the pool balls snap you out of your daydreaming. Just as quickly as he propped himself up against the table, he snapped back into action.
“Come here, let me show you how it's done.”
You nod, following Kim to the pool table.
“Okay. So my goal here is to hit the striped balls into one of the six pockets. The cue ball is in a good position, I'm seeing several possible moves from here.”
You hum in agreement as he explains, eyes on the table.
“I’m going to try to get this yellow stripe ball. You see how the line from the cue ball, to the ball, to the pocket is almost a straight line? That's the best outcome, it means I can just..”
He aims, taking much less time than before. With a sharp snap of the cue stick, he sends the cue ball flying, colliding with the other ball, propelling it to the pocket he mentioned before.
“...Hit it square in the center. Just like that.”
“Huh…”
“See? it's just a game of geometry, at the end of the day.”
“I see.”
“Now, the reason I chose to go after that one in particular, is because it leaves the cue ball in a good place to take another shot.”
You're speechless, taking him in. He explains it with such detail and precision. You find your heart beat becoming more intense again, and you look to your drink still on the counter.
“Don't go yet, it's still my turn. What separates the good from the great is thinking ahead.”
He continues to explain the intricacies of the game, but you find yourself looking at him more than the pool table. The way his stubble moves with his lips, his eyes darting between you and the table. He finishes explaining and takes another shot, unsuccessful this time.
“Well, you can't get them all.”
“Indeed. Now it's Judit’s turn.”
The game wraps up just as Jean finishes off his old fashioned, he steps closer to you two. Kim won, to no one's surprise. You seem to have a basic understanding of the main mechanics and feel confident enough to at least attempt to play. Kim steps aside, then paces towards the bar, getting himself a double shot of gin. You finish off your drink and follow him, as Jean and Judit set up the pool table again.
Kim takes a moment with the shot glass in front of him, eyeing it. He doesn't seem particularly thrilled with its existence. He sees you approach the bar as well, getting another drink.
“The more you drink the less precise you can be. If I were you, I would er, probably make this your last one for now.”
You chuckle. “It helps me loosen up a little.”
“Nervous?”
The question feels so pointed, as if he knows you've been looking at him this entire time.
“A little…”
“Don't be, you're in good company here.”
The rest of the bar patrons form an incomprehensible wall of sound, making it hard to hear.
“Huh?”
Kim leans closer, a couple inches away from your ear.
“You're in good company, no need to be nervous.”
“Gotcha.”
You take your drink from the kind bartender with a warm smile. Kim shoots his gin, and you walk back to the table with him.
“You two finally ready?”
Jean scoffs at you two, mildly annoyed that you took so long to prepare.
“Just because you're new, doesn't mean I'm going easy on you. I'll get it started.”
With a swift and strong strike, Jean sends all of the balls flying. It's your turn. You tense up, unsure of what to do. Kim lets you have your moment but decides to step in when it becomes clear that you've frozen up.
“The first hit is always the most intimidating. I understand. But the advantage is you can go for any of the balls. Solids or stripes. I'm seeing some good options for the solid ones. Why don't you try hitting the blue one?”
“Sure..”
You try to get on the table’s level with your cue stick, unsure how to place your hand to stabilize it. You fumble about for a moment before Kim interjects again, putting his hand down on the table.
“The best way to stabilize yourself is to splay your fingers out, and raise your thumb, like this.”
He splays his hands, you notice a slight veininess to them. Copying his hand position and propping the stick up, you feel how stable the cue is. It fits in between your thumb and knuckle bone well, and you steady yourself to take the shot.
“Not too hard, guide the cue a couple times before you take the shot.”
With a gentle clack, the blue ball in question finds its spot in the pocket. Success.
“Well done. Now, you're in a good position for the green one.”
“Beginners luck,” Jean remarks.
Clack, clack, and miss.
“It's okay. It happens.”
Jean sighs as he takes aim. You stand up, back and out of the way, almost bumping into Kim. He doesn't seem to mind, continuing to stand where he is. You feel the warmth of his body again, slightly more intense due to the gin.
Your mind wanders again. You wonder what it would be like to feel him embrace you from behind, what his hands in your hair would feel like, what a kiss from him would do to you. You let yourself think, reveling in it. As you continue to fantasize, you begin to lose your balance and begin to fall back. Kim's hand on your shoulder saves you before it's too late.
“Careful.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”
“Don't worry about it, it happens to the best of us.”
There's a smile in his voice but you daren’t look back, lest you lose your composure.
Jean takes his shot, missing. Soon enough it's your turn again. Kim assumed the role of mentor, telling you about the different types of shots, how spin works, and the like. You absorb some of it, but lose focus at times due to your brain being elsewhere. Eventually, he notices your wandering eyes and absent stares.
“Did you get all of that?”
“Yeah, sure”
He smirks, revealing a small smile line on his left cheek. You turn away, not letting him see your flushed face. You both decide to continue, but Kim seems to want to close the distance a little more each time he comes by to help.
You get a couple more shots in here and there, slowly getting more confident. Having Kim beside you feels comforting, a guiding light towards a possible victory. You get into a rhythm, analyzing the table in various ways. It's quite fun, getting to know new people over something so intellectual.
The game continues on, and Jean ends up winning by a small margin. You're beaming regardless. As the crew begins to pack up and settle their tabs, you follow them and do the same. You feel yourself start to destabilize again, but Kim catches you once again. His hand on your waist this time. This is your breaking point, there's no way to hide your flustered face now. Damn it, he's gorgeous. You can't get enough.
You wave goodbye to Jean and Judit, as they head to a nearby bus stop. You start to follow them, but a gentle hand on your shoulder stops you.
“I could take you home if you'd like, on my motor carriage.”
“Are you sure? I don't live far and I wouldn't want to-”
“Sh. You don't have to apologize. It's really no trouble.”
“Well, if you insist. I'm sure it's more comfortable than the bus at this hour.”
You walk around to the back of the establishment, a little annoyed that it's started to rain. The air is cold and brisk, and the lack of clouds let the moon illuminate your path. It's a good night despite the rain, especially with Kim by your side.
He unlocks the motor carriage, and you two step in. It's clean and crisp inside, even the trash seems organized.
“This is really nice…”
“Thank you, I got this about 2 years ago. A newer model, so I have to baby it a little bit. But I can't say I mind.”
“You into motor carriages then?”
“Mhm”
You give Kim your address and he begins driving. He tells you about his fascination with motor carriages and racing, and you tell him about your passions in exchange. It's a short ride, but you find yourself enjoying his presence. As he's approaching the final destination, his tone of voice changes to be more gentle than before; Coming close to a whisper.
“You know… I couldn't help but notice the way you looked at me before…”
Oh no, you've been caught red handed. There's no denying it now.
“Well, yeah… could you blame me? You have this… sense of style about you that I quite like…”
“Is that so?” His eyebrow raises, as a smirk forms alongside it.
“Mhm”
“Well, you've got quite the style as well.”
The complement flows effortlessly, as if he's been rehearsing it in his head for some time. You can't help but find it endearing, it's impossible not to.
Kim takes a sharp left, and you finally arrive home. The rain is coming down more forcefully now, pelting the motor carriage in a symphony of droplets. The doors open and close, and you find yourselves standing under the small awning above the front door. The entrance is slightly recessed into the main facade of the building, giving you both a short wall to lean on. You continue chatting as Kim fishes out a lighter from his pocket, playing with the flint. The spark catches your attention, as does the fact that you're shoulder to shoulder with him.
“Do you mind if I er..”
“Not at all, as long as I can snatch one off of you.”
He grabs his cigarettes from his back pocket, the pack severely crumpled. He offers it to you, letting you fish out yours. He grabs himself one and puts it away again, lighting it. The wind and rain make it difficult for him to do so, but after a couple tries he's successful. Taking a deep drag in, then out again. You take his lighter to light yours, trying a handful of times before sighing out of frustration. You keep the unlit cigarette in your mouth for a moment, before Kim interjects.
“Here, let me show you another way.”
Without another word, you find his hands gently guiding your chin to face him. He presses the lit cherry of his cigarette to yours, lighting it as you inhale. Your heart skips a beat, absolutely mesmerized at how smooth his action was. It does nothing but confirm that what you’ve been thinking about is mutual, filling you with a boldness that has been hiding all night.
“I didn’t know you could do such a thing…”
Kim chuckles, “I thought you would appreciate it.”
“You’d be correct in that assumption.” You give him a warm smile, prompting him to send you one in return.
The rest of the smoke session is mostly silent, just the sound of flicking cigarette ash and the rumble of rain keeping you two company. No words need to be exchanged, just enjoying each other’s company is adequate.
You offer to take his butt and toss it out later, keeping both of them in your pocket for now.
“Well, I suppose I should get going. I still need to drive home, after all.”
“You should, but before you do…’
The time is now. It’s your moment. Time to act on what has been on both of your minds for hours. You take a page out of Kim’s playbook, gently leading his chin closer to you. He gasps softly, letting out a small exhale. Your lips collide with his, as you give him a short and gentle kiss: Wet, warm, and still tasting of tobacco. You pull back, giving him a smile as your eyes lock onto his. He pulls you into another kiss, slower and deeper this time. You feel his hand on your back, gently pulling you closer.
This feels good, there’s something so natural about it, so instinctual. Neither of you want to let go. The nights are still miserably cold in Revachol, making the embrace all the more impactful. Your hand finds its way to the back of Kim’s head, his hair is even more fun in your grasp than you’d imagined. You didn’t expect things to go this far, but it isn’t a bad thing. In fact, this is a complete success. Introducing yourself to new people and finding a possible new hobby was exhilarating. Kim reluctantly pulls away, locking eyes with you again.
“I trust that I’ll see you next week? Same place?”
“Absolutely, that was a lot of fun.”
“The pool or… this?”
You chuckle, briefly looking away. “Both. Definitely both.”
“I’m glad, that’s good to hear.”
You slowly let Kim’s hair go, and he, your waist. You feel a breeze coming on as he pulls away, shivering slightly.
“I’ll see you next week then.”
“You too, drive safely”
Kim nods, before turning towards his motor carriage. Swiftly pulling out of the parking spot and driving away.