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It had been a long day at the bistro, Tim complained about the prices again, nicole argued with almost all of their guests and around 20 orders were fucked up. Everyone was glad when the last guest left and the manager declared all their shifts as cut
The K8tchen was clean and the lights already turned off as terry walked up the door, checking if all the locks were shut. Most of the staff already went home, home into their flats, to their family, to their friends, home to someone else.
Terry had family too, he knew he had, or atleast thats what he would call his beloved staff. Sure; his servers could be absolutley useless sometimes but they still had some skills and were quite nice to him. And the kitchen was always a constant mess of screaming and food being thrown around but Joey always somehow managed to handle this mess, and he did a good job of that.
And then
Then there was Clint. Standing behind the bar, smiling constanly with this stupid sarcastic grin, handing out self invented mixtures of god knows how many drinks, while his eyes gleam with enjoyment everytime he's given some sort of attention
Terry knew that the bartender was an attention addict, he knew that this is the only reason why clint never said anything against terrys pathetic attempts at flirting with him. Simply because he likes the adrenaline kick of the attention he gets from that; Nothing more. No deeper reason, no chance that Terrys feelings will ever be anything but one-sided
His pointless thoughts were interruped by the sudden voice he knew all too well
"Good night Boss" , the mixologist suddenly appeared behind him, carrying some bottles with him while heading to the door.
"Stealing the bistros Alcohol now, are we?" Terry said jokingly pointing at the whiskey collection in Clints hand.
The bartender smiled sheepishly, holding one of the bootles in Terrys direction "They have been open for too long now, I can't use them anymore for my customers. I gotta need to empty them somehow soo want one?, Clint said while pushing the bottle in Terrys hand. "Would be a shame if it went to waste"
"Well...Yeah Yeah I take one, could make up for a nice evening drink I guess." The manager took the bottle with shaking hands, trying to hide the blush that crept up his face when their fingers touched for a second
"Shall we drink this together then?" Clint suddenly asked, looking almost nervous himself but still keeping his stupid grin one
.
.
They quitly sat together at the bar, tasting the old whiskey while no one said anything. Terry didn't really know what to talk about; neither of them did. Right now in this moment, he just wanted to enjoy the ice cold drink pouring down his troat, trying not to think about the bartender who mixed it. About the tension between them that just won't go away. About what will never be between them
It was easier said them done given that this exact bartender was now sitting beside him, looking at terry, like he was expectim him to finally say something and break the akward silence that was creeping beneath them
Until Terry finally put the glass down, swallowing the last sip of the burning drink and opened his mouth
"Soo how were the customers today? Got any nice tips?"
Clints eyes widened in suprise for a second, almost like he expected terry to ask something different; something more personally.
"Well Marge and her friend were here, you know how generous they can be with tips"
Clint said while still looking at terry, waiting for him to say something more, maybe a lighthearted joke or a quick comment about something to reveal the reason for his manager to always follow him around, watching every step he does, always waiting for an oppurtunity to speak to him
And Terry didn't say anything. Thousands of words were tumbling trough his head, words of love and attachment waiting and yearning to finally be spoken out aloud
But he stayed silent. Because he knew that one word could shatter everything no matter the outcome
Either Clint would just laugh lightheartedly, brushing it off like nothing of all this really mattered, while trying to hide the excitement of being given the attention of real genuine love
Or the bartender would simply reject him with a respectfully worded "I'm sorry but I'm not really intetested in you....or any men"
Maybe with the later outcome; Terry could finally accept and move on but his mind was now too clouded with the sweet sensation of the whiskey, his hands too shaky while trying to hold the glass still, his heart beating to fast for him to actually say something; to make a decision
.
.
The creacking sound of the chair scrapping against the dark wooden floor disturbed the torturing silence ,as Clint got up and took out his keys
" Soo Yeah ,I gotta get home now." the bartender slowly walked to the door while nervously fumbling around with his keys
"Good night Boss"
"Good night Clint" Terry didn't even look up while loosely holding up his hand to say goodbye, he just stared down at the empty glass on the wooden table, trying desperatly to keep his voice from cracking and hide the tears he could feel dwelling in his eyes
Only when he heard the door shutting behind him and the sound of Clints steps dissapearing into the cold evening darkness outside, he poured himself a second glass of this sweet drink he could never get enough of
The whiskey had a light blonde color and tasted deliciously sweet with a bitter undertone; just like he liked it
He truly loved the whiskey. And he knew that the whiskey loved all the attention he gave him
But he would never, not in a thousand years expect the whiskey to love him back
.
.
.
So he poured himself a third glass