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When the long renovated bar on the neighboring street finally opened, my best friend Christophe dragged me to check out.
“The owner's the silver fox type.” He gushed. “Total heartthrob material.”
“Older people are trouble.” I warned her.
Remembering how his last relationship crashed and burned with a guy 9 years his senior, Christophe pouted.
“Relax. I've got this. Mainly, we're here for the opening special. Finish 10 drinks sober and walk off with anything here.”
Our eyes met in understanding.
Thanks to inheriting my dad's alcohol tolerance genes. I'd definitely be leaving with some loot.
The place was packed when we arrived. Buzzing with energy, Christophe pulled me through the crowd where a lanky guy was chugging his fifth drink. He didn't even finish before staggering toward the restroom, drawing jers from the crowd.
"Not bad, kid." Called a deep voice from the bar. "Anyone else want to try?"
I rose on tiptoes to see a sharply dressed woman in a waste coat, dark hair tied in a bun.
"Mamma mia!" Christophe clutched my arm, whispering, until he suddenly raised my hand, shouting. "He will do it!"
All eyes turned as I blinked.
"Uh, I'll try."
"Careful! These pack a punch.” The bartender smirked and fresh glasses materialized before me.
“One, two, three."
My casual sipping contrasted with the crowd's growing astonishment. By the fifth round, the owner cautioned.
"Easy there. These are craft cocktails."
I waved her off, downing another. The room fell silent except for my steady gulps. Nine empty glasses later, I slammed down the 10th.
"Holy shit! This brother's a tank." The crowd erupted.
As cheers echoed, I scanned for my prize until my gaze caught movement at the bar's corner under pulsing lights. A young bartender in a crisp white shirt methodically polished glassware. His long lashes cast shadows, elegant fingers tracing each curve. My breath hitched.
"See anything you like?" The owner asked.
“Anything?” I hiccuped.
“Don't worry. Whatever's in this bar is yours for the taking.” The beautiful woman who is the owner smirked disdainfully.
I nodded, pondering for a few seconds.
“Grab that blue bottle on the back right. Expensive stuff.” Christophe subtly tugged my sleeve, whispering.
I glanced over before striding in that direction.
"Yeah, good choy…" Christophe started, but he stopped his words.
The entire bar fell silent as I gripped the man’s arm, marching straight toward the exit. Even the typically unflappable bar owner, Minako, finally lost her composure.
“Stop, mister. Put my son down!”
“Didn't you say anything in the bar was fair game?” I turned to face Minako.
“He's not an object.” The older woman's temple twitched.
I looked back at the man, dead serious.
“She says you're worthless.”
The man's startled expression flickered before he burst into laughter.
“You're really…”
I didn't let him finish, grabbing his arm again and hauling him through the doorway.
“Holy shit! That actually worked!” Christophe's shocked voice followed us.
I swear I wasn't that drunk. Mainly because I recognized this bartender, Yuuri, the academic legend from our high school. Also the guy I'd secretly crushed on for nearly three years. The chilly night air slapped my face instantly, sobering my foggy brain. The burning heat from our clasped hands suddenly felt scalding. I hastily let go.
“Sor… Sor…”
“Hm?“ Yuuri raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry.”
Our eyes met briefly before I looked away. 10 cocktails hadn't phased me. But now my cheeks burned crimson. to him, I must look like some drunken lunatic.
Uggh. So impulsive.
Back in high school. Everyone knew his parents divorced young, leaving him with complicated family stuff. He should have just graduated college this year.
Why is he working at some bar and calling that woman mother? Humiliating.
I didn't overthink. I just had to get him out. That shady bar environment. Someone like him shouldn't be there. Now we stood awkwardly facing each other on the sidewalk. Just as the tension peaked. Someone rushed out from the bar.
“Mister, you're friends with Christophe inside, right?” The man's face lit up seeing us.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“He just down 10 cocktails in one go and tried to drag our boss away.”
“It seems your friend wants to be my godfather.” Yuuri turned to me.
I didn't answer, bolting straight toward the bar. I knew Christophe's alcohol tolerance. Three drinks max. When I crashed through the doors, Christophe was clinging to some fox's arm like his life depended on it.
“That's my godmother, Minako.” Yuuri walked up beside me, nodding at the woman.
“Noted.” I shrugged.
While we stood there awkwardly. Chaos erupted across the room.
“Young man, get off me this instant." Minako barked, her polished demeanor cracking.
“Nuh-uh. You said anything in the bar's fair game.” Christophe, flushed and clearly wasted, shook his head violently, tightening his grip.
Every patron swiveled to stare at me.
Can't blame them. I'd literally just walked out with the bartender earlier.
Minako's glare found me, too.
“Hey, you. Get her out of here now.”
I lunged forward, yanking Christophe off Minako's shoulder mid giggle. Hoisting him in fireman style, I booked it toward the exit.
God, we might as well have stripped naked and danced on the tables.
The neon lounge sign flickered mockingly as we fled, where I swear I’m never coming back to this cursed place. Footsteps echoed behind us as I staggered down the alley, Christophe's dead weight making me wheeze like asthmatic Darth Vader.
By the time I dumped him on my apartment floor, I collapsed into a sweaty puddle. Silence finally settled and my mind circled back to Yuuri's reappearance tonight, dragging up memories I'd buried.
Freshman year, geometry class.
“Victor, solve this problem.” The teacher's voice snapped me from daydreaming.
Panic surged. This elite high school already felt like math boot camp. And now 30 pairs of eyes watched me choke at the whiteboard. The numbers swam and I couldn't even parse the question.
“Victor, it's straightforward.” The teacher pressed.
“Excuse me.” A voice cut through the tension.
There he stood in the doorway. New transfer student Yuuri Katsuki haloed in September sunlight. His arrival scattering the dark clouds of my humiliation like some algebra ex machina. I instinctively turned my head toward the door where a tall, lean boy stood silhouetted against the backlight, his features indistinct.
“Mr. Jean, I'm here to pick up our class's exams.”
“Yuuri, wait here.” The math teacher's frosty demeanor instantly melted. “I forgot them in the office.”
So, this was the legendary Yuuri, the academic prodigy who had entered as valedictorian.
As the teacher hurried out, I remained frozen at the chalkboard, openly staring. Classroom whispers bubbled up around us, creating accidental privacy.
“Stuck?” Yuuri stepped closer, glancing between the trigonometry problem on the board and my panicked expression.
I nodded miserably.
“Try applying reduction formulas.” His finger tapped an equation component.
Those intense eyes lofted onto mine as I scrambled to think through two simultaneous realizations.
One, this human was sculpted by angels. And two, what the hell were reduction formulas again?
Somehow I solved it. Not that I remembered the method later, just the boy named Yuuri who haunted my thoughts for three pathetic years.
~x~
"Come with me again." Christophe pleaded, undeterred by last week's humiliation.
“I've got no dignity left to lose. That silver fox Minako is my ultimate weakness.” I shook my head.
“37 isn't that much older.” He hissed.
His moth-to-flame determination made me queasy. I value self-preservation when Christophe stormed toward Peach Bar alone. I lasted 10 minutes before chasing after. The crowded bar intimidated me. So I camped across the street at Coffee Haven, ready to rescue my disasterprone friend.
“Americano for table three.” The voice froze my blood midsip.
Spinning around, I choked.
“Yuuri?”
There he stood in barista blacks, setting down my coffee with raised eyebrows.
“Wasn't it obvious? I'm working.”
“Don't you bartend there?” I pointed at the bar.
“Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays there, Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays here.” Yuuri smiled.
What a workaholic. And here I thought my luck couldn't get worse.
After finishing his shift, Yuuri brought over a coffee and sat across from me. I blinked in surprise.
“Been eyeing the bar all night. Worried about your friend?” He asked.
“Her alcohol tolerance is terrible.”
“Relax. The owner keeps an eye on everyone.”
He meant Minako. I hesitated before confessing about that incident last time.
“My friend and I caused trouble during your event. We're really sorry.”
“No harm done. Honestly, you two made that night unforgettable.” Yuuri chuckled.
“Glad to hear that.” Relief washed over me.
“But I've been wondering.” He leaned forward. “What were you thinking that night?”
My coffee went down the wrong pipe. After an awkward pause, I dead panned.
“Your stupidly good looks made me temporarily insane. I've since reflected deeply on my poor judgment and beg your forgiveness.”
As if I'd admit I'd been trying to save a waywarded young man from corruption.
Yuuri's gaze turned inscrutable. I pretended to have a sudden fascination with the window, only to see Christophe stagger out of the bar. Two large men materialized behind him, closing in. I bolted outside but before I could intervene, Minako emerged.
“Hey, what's your damage?” She positioned himself beside Christophe, glaring at the men. “You mess with my patrons?”
The pair slunk away like whipped dogs. Minako griped while studying Christophe.
“Can't hold your liquor worth a damn, can you?” She squinted then booped his nose. “Silly.”
“If I could drink properly, you wouldn't come to rescue me.” His giggle turned conspiratorial.
I covered my eyes.
Drunken flirtation level terminal.
“Thanks, Minako. We're leaving now.” I grabbed Christophe before Minako could contemplate dumpster options behind us.
“That guy seems familiar.” I overheard
“The one who dragged me through the parking lot.”
“Yeah, he's got brass ones.”
~x~
After multiple lectures, Christophe swore off drinking at bars. His subsequent reconnaissance missions at Peach Blossom Tavern yielded juicy intel.
hough Minako and Yuuri play the Godfather/Godson card, they're more like battle buddies. Turns out Minako ran with rough crowds in his youth. When teenage Yuuri got targeted by gangsters, Minako intervened. Their odd couple friendship stuck. To back up Yuuri, Minako publicly declared him as her adopted son. Her words reminded me of an incident from junior year of high school.
Yuuri suddenly took a month-long leave. After some digging, I learned his gambling addict father had fled from Lone Sharks, leaving Yuuri with his grandmother. When debt collectors harassed them, the elderly woman suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and passed away soon after. Rumors spread about Yuuri dropping out. After a week of internal struggle, I carried my piggy bank to his neighborhood. The alleyways twisted like a maze. Within moments, shouts erupted from a nearby passage.
“Your old man owes us. You'll pay.”
“Goddamnit. Keep running.” A thug sneered. “Heard you're some straight A student. Too bad you got stuck with a deadbeat dad like him.”
My heart raced as I hurried toward the commotion. In the dim alley, I saw Yuuri curled up on the ground, shielding his head. The golden boy I knew looked disheveled and vulnerable. The thugs showed no mercy, kicking his ribs.
What to do?
My mind blanked with panic. I retreated and screamed.
“Officers. There's a fight happening here.”
The gang left cursing under their breath. 10 minutes later, Yuuri limped away, never noticing me.
“What happened next?” Christophe later pressed.
“Nothing.” I shrugged. “He never saw me. I'd left the piggy bank anonymously, though. The meager savings likely meant nothing.”
Yuuri returned to school a month later, perhaps already connected with Minako. He maintained his position as valedictorian, someone I had to look up to. Years later, our company's party brought me back to Peach Blossom Bar.
Talk about awkward timing.
As colleagues giggled over cocktails, someone tugged my sleeve.
“Victor, check out that bartender.”
Our eyes met across the crowded room. Yuuri smiled, sunlight glinting off his whiskey tumbler.
“Holy…” My coworker breathed. “No wonder this place is packed. Got a walking advertisement.”
Male colleagues grew visibly annoyed.
“Drinking's boring.” One declared, "Let's play seven shots. The rules were simple, miscounting multiples of seven. Take a shot."
Being math-challenged, I barely survived three rounds before failing.
“Truth or dare, Victor?” They chanted.
When I chose truth, the group booed.
“Dare. Show us your hidden talent.“
Cue awkward silence.
“Don't worry, I won't make this too hard for you.” My coworker glanced around the bar, eyes lighting up when they landed on the counter. “How about you go ask that hottie for his Instagram? That's not too bad, right?”
I stood up without hesitation under my colleague's astonished gazes. I marched over with the determination of a warrior going into battle.
Yuuri's contact? Oh, please.
I'd added him back in senior year of high school, though we'd never exchanged a single message.
Still, I needed to put on a show.
Yuuri was mixing drinks when I approached.
“Here with friends?” He glanced up.
“Colleagues.” I smiled.
“Try this.” He slid a cocktail across the marble surface.
“What's…” I blinked.
“Homemade blend. I call it 18.”
“18.” I repeated the name silently, accepting the glass under Yuuri's watchful gaze.
I took a cautious sip and nearly gagged.
“Too bitter.”
He chuckled at my exaggerated grimace. I started to nod, then froze.
“Wait. The initial harshness faded, leaving… Was that a hint of caramel sweetness? Why does it taste bitter and sweet at the same time?”
“That's why it's called 18.”
The realization hit me. Yuuri had mixed his own 18th year into this drink.
“Your co-workers are staring." He murmured.
I snapped back to reality.
"Right, I'll let you work." Grabbing my phone, I hurried back to our table.
"Did you get it?" My colleague vibrated with excitement, others already unlocking their phones. "Share his handle."
"Sorry, strike out.” I slipped my device into my pocket.
As punishment for failing the dare, I down three tequila shots before dramatically faceplanting onto the table.
Perfect timing. What better opportunity to play drunk?
“Victor's out cold already.” Someone snorted. “He always taps out first at department parties.”
“Leave him. More drinks for us.”
Perfect. My acting skills deserved an Oscar.
When the crowd began dispersing, I woke up right on cue.
“You guys go ahead. My ride's coming.”
I waited until the last colleague disappeared before resting my head again, listening to the bartender shuffle. The real performance was just beginning, headache from all the noise earlier, everyone was being way too rowdy. The bar had finally quieted down enough that I could hear the conversation drifting from the counter.
“Yuuri, have you found an apartment yet?”
“Still looking. Might check a few more places.”
“Why not crash at my place?”
“Don't want to trouble you.”
I strained to hear more.
Yuuri was apartment hunting?
But the voices suddenly cut out. 3 seconds later, strong hands lifted me upright. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but forced myself to stay limp. Yuuri carried me piggy back out of the bar. My heart raced against his burning warmth through his shirt.
“Really drunk?” Yuuri asked.
“Wasted.” I kept my eyes shut.
It was a total lie. But he didn't call me out. He just kept walking block after block with my weight. Eventually, my guilty conscience made me squirm free. Still, tonight was worth it.
“The crisp night air cleared my head.” I blinked innocently.
“You weren't even tipsy.” Yuuri chuckled.
Not how I imagined this going.
Since when did he stop giving people graceful exits?
“Then why carry me out?” I shot back.
He paused before answering.
“Maybe I saw a pretty face and got ideas.”
My own line, thrown back at me.
When I stayed silent, he didn't push.
“Come on, I'll walk you home the whole way.”
I kept thinking about his housing situation, working two jobs.
No wonder he looked exhausted lately. Now scrambling for apartments, too.
The street lights haloed his profile as we walked. I sneaked glances. First quick peaks, then longer stairs. On my third look, he met my gaze
“Like what you see?”
“Absolutely.” I held eye contact.
Yuuri blinked, then burst out laughing.
“You haven't changed a bit.”
“Me?”
“First time we met.” He recalled. “You stared me dead in the eyes and said no way just that calmly.”
Back home, my mind kept buzzing.
Yuuri remembered. Never thought he would.
I flopped on bed and dialed mom.
“Hey, Mom. Has our apartment on West Street been rented out yet? No reason. just hold off on renting it for now. I need to take care of something.” After hanging up, I reopened my contacts list and clicked on Yuuri's Twitter profile.
Back at high school graduation, I mustered the courage to ask Yuuri for his Twitter. There were so many people adding him that day, I just quickly scanned his QR code and bolted.
Now that I think about it, he probably never even knew who I was. I wasn't sure if he deleted me either.
After staring at my screen for 5 minutes, I sent: From your cozy nest to my humble abode. Brightar Realy handles all your housing needs. Buy sell/ rent with zero hassle.
Looking to rent scent. My shoulders relaxed.
Thank god he hadn't blocked me.
Three bouncing dots appeared immediately. I chewed my lip and typed.
Hi there. Got a prime rental available. Great location. Unbeatable price. Interested?
The dots froze. My heart sank.
How unbeatable. Yuuri really must be broke.
I slashed the usual rent in half.
Westpace Street. $2,000 per month.
No response. I nod at my cuticle before trying: Price negotiable.
Silence.
$1,000?
My phone suddenly vibrated with an incoming video call from Yuuri Katsuki. I fumbled the device like a hot potato, answering with my nose pinched in a fake customer service voice.
“Hello.”
“Interested in the rental?” Amused laughter crackled through the speaker.” Victor, what the hell are you doing?”
I hung up faster than I'd ever moved in my life. Before I could process the humiliation, he sent a screenshot of our chat, his contact list entry for me clearly labeled Victor, followed by our entire conversation mocking my terrible sales pitch.
Uggh, just end me now.
I spent the afternoon hiding under my blanket, re-evaluating my life choices. Oddly enough, Christophe had also stopped frequenting Peach Blossom Lounge lately.
"Get your heart broken by that silver fox?" I asked when he visited.
“Taking a breather. Minako is complicated.” He flopped onto my bed.
“Totally get it.” I nodded. “Minako's clearly a player. You need a solid strategy.”
We sighed in unison, two hopeless cases commiserating.
“Why do you like Yuuri so much anyway?” Christophe tilted her head. “Just because he helped you with that calculus problem, junior year?”
I traced the star stickers on my ceiling.
“It started there, but it's more than that. To be honest, without Yuuri, I never would have gotten into college. He was like the North Star guiding me through my darkest times.”
When he hit rock bottom, I was drowning in self-doubt, too. Struggling to keep up with classes and battling teenage acne and weight gain. My grades plummeted along with my self-esteem. I'd practically given up on college entrance exams until Yuuri showed me hope. When Yuuri returned to school, topping the charts like nothing happened, his resilience shamed me.
That guy literally glowed in the darkness like a human lighthouse. Crashing on him became as natural as breathing.
My mom's call jolted me from wallowing.
“Where's the key to the Sheeping Street apartment?” She boomed, her voice shredding my eardrums. “The tenant needs it now.”
“Mom, I told you to wait. My friend might rent it.” I shot upright in bed.
“Too late.” She retorted. “Some guy offered a top dollar already.”
I raced over with the key only to freeze when I saw Yuuri waiting at the property.
“Place looks decent.” He said, palm outstretched. “Key.”
Handing it over mechanically, I dragged my mom aside.
“How much did you charge him?”
She flashed five fingers proudly. Guilt twisted my gut.
We'd totally scammed this innocent guy.
Yuuri was inspecting the bedroom when I slumped back in.
“We can negotiate the rent if it's too steep.”
“Seems reasonable.” He shrugged and after awkward silence, he turned. “Do I look broke to you?”
“Aren't you?” I blurted.
“Co-own Peach Blossom Lounge with Minako.” Yuuri chuckled. “That coffee shop across the street. Also mine. Pretty sure I can afford your mom's rent.”
Looks like I'm the clown here.
“Enjoy the tour.” I fake smiled, fleeing the scene.
My escape got interrupted when Yuuri's text arrived halfway down the block. A photo of dusty cardboard box in the unit: Leftover stuff. Need it?
My breath caught. Beneath old textbooks peaked a familiar envelope corner, the draft love letter I'd never sent.
“I need it. Wait right there. I'm coming over.” I sent a voice message and took off running.
All I could do was pray Yuuri didn't have quick fingers.
5 minutes later, I returned to West Pine Street. Yuuri stood by the entrance holding a cardboard box looking completely unbothered.
“Phew. ” I silently exhaled before calmly taking the box from him. “Thanks.”
As I turned to leave, Yuuri called out.
"Victor, are you free tomorrow night?"
I paused.
"Why?"
"To thank you for helping me find this great apartment.” He met my gaze. “Let me buy you a drink.”
"Thanks." I muttered, already cringing at memories of past embarrassments.
Yet the next evening found me at Peach Blossom Bar. Anyway, the place was packed, keeping Yuuri busy behind the counter. I settled into a corner booth to watch him work. The way his hands flew across cocktail tools with practiced ease, dangerously attractive.
Apparently, I wasn't the only one who thought so.
During my brief distraction, a well-dressed woman materialized at his station. Whispered gossip reached my ears.
“That's the bar's top VIP, Loaded Family. She's had her eye on the bartender for weeks.”
[My stomach dropped as I inched closer.
"Yuuri, darling." The woman purred, sliding a drink across the mahogany. "I come here every night for you. Won't you share one little toast?"
Yuuri glanced at the glass, but didn't move. She poured another shot.
“Two drinks now and you're still playing hard to get.”
The tension thickened and before I knew it, I'd marched over and grabbed the first glass.
“Pardon me. Suddenly parched.”
Don't ask how I came up with that pathetic excuse.
I downed the whiskey in one gulp, reaching for the second glass with the woman gaping. Yuuri caught my wrist mid-reach, our eyes locked as he calmly took the remaining shot himself. The VIP looked between us. Disgust replacing her shock.
“Should have mentioned the boyfriend sooner.” She stormed off in a cloud of expensive perfume.
I was still processing when Yuuri suddenly slumped onto his stool. My eyes widened.
Was he drunk? Seriously?
Even Christophe holds her liquor better than this.
I hurriedly studied him just as Minako walked in from outside.
“Yo, what's going on here?” She raised an eyebrow.
“He seems drunk.” I forced a smile.
“Drunk?” Minako glanced at Yuuri. “How much did he have?”
“One glass.”
“Yuuri's always been lightweight. He's probably actually plastered.” She turned to me. “Victor, could I ask you a favor? Would you mind looking after him? The bar's packed and I need to attend to other customers.”
I stared at Yuuri slumped over the table. After 3 seconds, I declared solemnly.
“Don't worry, I've got this.”
Oh my god. Drunk Yuuri looked so adorably docile.
I desperately wanted to touch him. I tried maintaining composure, but barely minutes after Minako left, I dragged a stool next to Yuuri and sat staring unblinkingly at his face. The bar buzzed around us, though I seemed preoccupied elsewhere. After hesitating, I reached out to stroke his hair. 3 seconds later, I pinched his fingers.
This felt slightly creepy yet weirdly thrilling. You know what I mean?
Later, I couldn't resist lifting my hand to poke his cheek, but before contact, my wrist got caught midair. My eyes widened as Yuuri looked up with crystal clear sobriety.
“Why the sneaky moves?”
Caught red-handed.
“Why?” I stammered. “You're just too handsome. Temporary moral lapse.”
“Still using that same excuse.” His lips quirked.
I blinked, then shook my head.
“There's another reason.” Yuuri waited, until I said. “Because I like you.”
His low chuckle vibrated through the air. Genuine amusement lighting his features. As I scrambled for escape routes, his grip tightened on my captured hand.
“You're really stealing my thunder, aren't you?” His words hit like lightning, leaving me dumbruck. “Earth to Victor.”
He tapped my forehead. Heat flooded my face.
“You, you.” I sputtered incoherently.
“Let's go somewhere we can talk properly.” Yuuri sighed.
…
At the coffee shop across the street, we sat facing each other, the air thick with tension and awkward sweetness. Of course, this is how I felt. Yuuri appeared far more composed.
"I'll go first." He said, meeting my gaze. "Victor, I've liked you for quite some time. I can't pinpoint exactly when it started. Maybe when you secretly had someone deliver breakfast to me during senior year, pretending it was a buy 1 get one deal from some bakery. Victor, I wasn't born yesterday.”
He chuckled softly.
He wasn't the fool here. I was.
My toes curled in embarrassment beneath my shoes. Turns out he'd known about all my clumsy attempts to show affection. Not just the breakfasts, but also the fruits, pastries, and that hideous hand knitted scarf. I'd use the same store promotion excuse every single time while I thought I'd been invisible in his world.
It turned out I'd been sprinting through it dark naked.
Yuuri continued obliviously.
“Or maybe it began sophomore year in 13th Mile Alley. “His eyes locked onto mine with sudden intensity. “Victor, you've got quite the vocal range. And that piggy bank of yours, adorable. Couldn't bring myself to smash it.”
I stared at him in horror.
How did he even know about that?
“Or perhaps earlier?” He concluded with a smile. “Remember when I mixed you that drink for your 18th?”
I nodded.
That bizarre cocktail had left an indelible impression.
“That drink? It was my 18th year. Bitter as hell.” He said, thumb brushing my knuckles. “But lucky me, I found the sweetness to balance it out.”
Fireworks detonated in my brain. I floated in honeyed euphoria, barely managing to croak out.
“So, you're done?” At his nod, I rasped. “Does that mean my turn now?”
After he affirmed, I cleared my throat.
“Well, about me liking you? Total shallow beginnings.”
Yuuri's laughter cut through my rambling.
“What's so funny?” I demanded.
“Just feeling grateful.” He grinned, dimples flashing. “Grateful these looks didn't fail me.”
I floated home in disbelief, as the entire evening felt surreal. The moment I opened my door, an alcoholic tsunami hit my nostrils. Christophe lay sprawled on the floor.
“Chris?” I scrambled to prop him up, eventually coaxing sobering soup into him.
Two hours later, he groaned back to consciousness.
"What's this about?" I asked as he rubbed his temples.
"Ugh!" Christophe grimaced, then he sighed. "Turns out you were right. That silver fox is way out of my league. So I ventured, giving up, cutting losses.”
“Smart move. I approved.”
“What about you? Throwing in the towel, too?” He squinted at me.
“No, I succeeded.”
Christophe stayed silent for a few seconds. Then he kicked me out of the room.
~x~
One week later at Peach Blossom Bar, I watched Yuuri craft cocktails.
"What are you staring at?" He grinned.
“Looking at my boyfriend.” I answered bluntly.
My straightforwardness caught Yuuri offguard, leaving him chuckling awkwardly.
Crash!
A shattered bottle lay at Minako's feet. She stared blankly before crouching to clean up. Another bartender sidled up to Yuuri.
"What's up with the boss lately? That's her fourth broken bottle this month.”
Nothing. Late blooming romance.” Yuuri glanced over briefly.
I observed Minako all night watching her distracted movements.
"What's wrong with your godmother?" Tugging Yuuri's sleeve, I whispered.
Instead of answering, Yuuri countered.
“Your friend hasn't come around here in weeks."
“He said he's tired of the scene.” I shrugged.
“Minako might look like a player, but she's actually inexperienced with relationships.” Yuuri's lips quirked.
My eyes widened.
The woman who resembled a silver fox was really a bashful bachelorette. So Christophe had become the heartbreaker who flirted and fled.
Four weeks later, Yuuri became swamped with work.
The reason? Peach Blossom Bars co-owner had vanished without notice.
My phone buzzed with Christophe's call.
“I'm just vacationing in Los Angeles.”
“Wise.”
“Minako is tracking me down. Did you give him my location?”
“Sorry, bad connection.” I yelled theatrically, jabbing the end call button.
Shooting Yuuri a glare, I groaned.
“He'll never let me live down.”
“Choosing romance over friendship?” Yuuri squeezed my shoulder. “Have faith in Minako.”
~x~
On New Year's Eve, fireworks bloomed across the night sky like liquid gold. As I tilted my head in wonder, Yuuri's arms encircled me from behind, his warmth shielding me from the winter chill. I clicked my tongue.
"What's wrong?" He rested his head on my shoulder.
"This all feels too rushed." I mumbled.
Yuuri stayed silent for a moment before muttering into my neck.
“I originally planned to take it slower. I wasn't sure…”He paused, then added with sudden clarity. “But when I found that love letter you wrote me at the West Pine Street apartment and saw how panicked you looked afterward, I realized maybe I could accelerate things.”
My entire body stiffened.
That damned letter. He'd actually found it. That meddlesome Yuuri and his sticky fingers.
Flushing crimson. I stomped on his foot. He just chuckled and tightened his arms around me as the crowd began chanting.
“3, 2, 1. Happy New Year!
A chrysanthemum firework exploded overhead in a shower of gold.
New beginnings, fresh starts.
Extra.
The moment Minako showed up in Los Angeles. I knew Victor had betrayed our brotherhood pack. My call went straight to voicemail, a confirmation of his treachery.
“That traitorous wench.” Yanking open the curtains, I peered down at the courtyard.
Minako stood there with her luggage, politely interrogating the innkeeper.
“Excuse me, is there a mister Giacometti staying here?”
The kindly innkeeper shook her head.
“We can't disclose guest information.” She said that, but her eyes darted involuntarily toward my window.
Minako's sharp gaze followed her glance instantly. Our eyes met through the glass before I could duck away.
“Hi.” I waved awkwardly. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Fancy?” Minako's voice carried up clearly. “I crossed three time zones to find you.”
10 minutes later, we sat across a stone table in the courtyard's lingering silence. I stole glances at her jaw and the faint bruises under her eyes. Her hair, longer now, was carelessly tied back with a leather cord.
“Disgusted by my hobo-chic?” She challenged me when she caught me looking.
Still devastatingly attractive, though I'd never admit it.
"Why are you here?"
She pulled a cigarette from her case, then shoved it back with sudden violence.
“You spent three months haunting my peach garden bar. Got drunk last month and kissed me. Then proceeded to grope me three times.” Her gaze pinned me. “Now you're playing as a runaway bride. Care to explain, Christophe?”
My mouth opened soundlessly.
Kissed? Groped?
“I never…” I finally spluttered.
“Security cameras say otherwise.” Minako leaned forward, all traces of humor gone. “That footage could be very educational.”
“This was an accident, but I did do it.” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Well, you know, I can't hold my liquor.”
“That's no excuse.” Minako fixed me with that intense gaze. “I got the short end of the stick here. You need to take responsibility.”
I nearly spat out my tea. Completely thrown.
Had someone body snatched this woman? The ice cold bar owner who' barely spared me a glance during all those nights out was now acting completely out of character.
Our verbal sparring ended with my humiliating retreat, claiming sudden stomach pains and Minako proceeding to move his luggage into the same bed and breakfast. I tossed and turned all night, finally dragging myself to the riverside at dawn. The chilly breeze helped untangle my nodded thoughts.
That first encounter at the bar had been pure chance.
When Victor left with the bartender that night, I acted on impulse and made a complete fool of myself. Truth was, I'd just escaped a toxic relationship with an older man, charming yet manipulative, keeping me perpetually off-balance. Victor was the one who pointed out the emotional abuse and helped me break free. From the moment I saw Minako, I pegged her as the same type.
Maybe that's why I'd shamelessly flirted, fueled by liquid courage and wounded pride.
The shock came when I realized her blushing ears betrayed genuine fluster beneath that exterior. This unexpected vulnerability terrified me. I only wanted casual fun, not emotional complications. Hence the panicked escape to Los Angeles.
As I stood brushing off my jeans, a sweaty hand gripped my shoulder.
“Hey there, brother. What are you doing out here all alone?”
The jogger's fingers lingered creepily. I was winding up to throw him when Minako's roar cut through the mist.
“Get your hands off him!”
The hospital waiting room reeked of antiseptic. I stared at Minako's spectacular shiner and split lip, torn between guilt and disbelief.
“What were you thinking? You're way past your brawling days.”
When Minako Okukawa heard this, she immediately turned to look at me.
“Who are you calling old?”
“Whoever is wearing a cast.” I shrugged.
She glared but stayed silent. The atmosphere grew increasingly awkward until she finally spoke.
“I asked Victor about you.” Before I could respond, she continued. "Christophe, I'm not like that jerk. When I didn't reply to your messages for so long, I wasn't playing games. I needed time to figure out if I was ready for a relationship.”
Her gaze locked with mine, unwaveringly serious.
“I'm older than you. Being with me would put you at a disadvantage, so I wanted to give you space to think, too.” A bitter smile touched her lips. “But you just vanished.”
I stared at her, stunned.
She'd never shared any of this.
The realization hit me.
I’d never asked.
After a prolonged silence, I finally murmured under her expectant stare.
“I'll think about it.”
While helping Minako leave the hospital, a passing doctor advised.
“Your aunt is strong. She just needs rest.”
I glanced down at my cartoon print jacket, then at Minako's hospital pale complexion. Deep in thought, I hurried her out before she could start causing a scene. She stayed in Los Angeles the entire week as I did.
So, when urgent business demanded my return, I knocked on Minako's door. The scent of perfume greeted me as it opened, revealing her beautiful face and long hair.
A startling transformation.
“Midlife glow.” I teased.
“Did you need something?” Minako cleared her throat, feigning nonchalance.
“I'll leave tomorrow.“
Her smile faltered briefly
“Unders…“
“Want to come with me?” I interrupted. “I'm starting to think shared journeys beat solitary ones. Let's do this together, Minako.“
Her eyes held mine before she smiled.
“Deal.”
We arrived home during the New Year's Eve fireworks. As colorful explosions lit the night, Minako squeezed my hand.
“I'll take you to the fireworks chasing later.”
Spotting Victor and Yuuri in the crowded streets. I turned excitedly.
“Let's join them.”
Minako glanced at the couple.
“Let them have their moment. Besides…” She gazaced playfully. “Spending New Years with that stick in the mud. Yuuri? hard pass.”
When he mentioned that, it reminded me of something. Technically, she's still Yuuri Katsuki's godmother which means I'm now sharing seniority with Minako Okukawa.
“How freaking surreal.” I'm mused. “It's incredible that Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki found each other in this vast world.”
Minako chuckled.
“Incredible? It was inevitable.” She explained. “We weren't even planning to open Peach Blossom Bar here initially. My first choice was downtown, but Yuuri insisted on this location. Said he wanted to try his luck.”
“You mean luck with Victor?” I gasped. “Seems fortune favored him after the initial surprise.”
Minako nodded.
“What about your luck? Wasn't yours good, too?” I turned to him.
“The best.” Minako intertwined his fingers with mine. “Used up half my lifetime's worth of luck on this.”
As we spoke, the clock struck midnight. Cheers flooded through the car windows.
Happy New Year. A fresh start, new beginnings.
“Happy New Year, Miss Okukawa.” I turned to face her.
“Happy New Year, my dear Giacometti.”