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Stolas steps onto the stage, surrounded by bright lights that are both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because they keep the crowd just out of focus, and a curse for the very same reason.
The illusion of standing on stage with no one there helps him reach the point in his performance where he can finally relax. Still, he knows that if he could see smiling faces looking up at him, that sense of ease would come much sooner.
As it is, he starts crooning his song, a melancholic tune about longing for the touch of a lover. At first, it awakens thousands of butterflies in his stomach. Once they settle, he slowly makes his way off the stage. He weaves in and out of the tables, winking at women and men as he goes, offering a little hope, maybe a bit of encouragement.
He usually chooses who to wink at based on who he feels needs it the most: the girl being ignored by her date, the guy sitting alone looking completely heartbroken. These are the people he tries to give just a small moment of joy, just a bit of cheer to. People come here to have a good time, but some come to forget their pain. If he can help with that, why not?
He slinks past a gentleman with his head lowered, a regular Stolas has noticed on more than one occasion. The place where his wedding band once sat has left a faint line that is finally beginning to fade. Stolas runs his fingers lightly along the man’s arms, across his shoulders, and down his other arm. When the man looks up, Stollas offers him a small wink. In return, Stolas receives a sad smile before the man lowers his head once more.
Turning away from the table with a slightly heavy heart, he faces the bar. And holy shit, he nearly messes up the lyrics as his breath catches in his throat. Standing behind the bar is the most attractive demon Stolas has ever laid eyes on.
His unconventional beauty captures his full attention. The white scar that runs over half of his face gives him an air of danger and mystery, while his lively eyes shine like pools of honey with a cherry-colored center. Stolas could easily get lost in those eyes, sparkling with life. To top it all off, he has a brilliant smile. Stolas has never had a visceral reaction to someone’s appearance, at least not before this moment.
The new bartender looks up, and now that brilliant smile and those striking eyes are directed at him. Only him. His chest tightens, his heart pounds, and his stomach flips in a way that feels similar to the butterflies from earlier, yet somehow different.
Stolas forces himself to turn away. If he doesn’t, he’ll ruin his set, and he can’t afford that.
He takes a deep breath, and as the next verse begins, he refocuses on the patrons in the lounge. They are here to have a good time. Tonight is the Lunar New Year, and while it means more to some than to others, everyone is here to celebrate. The Year of the Horse will soon be upon them, a year said to bring energy, freedom, speed, and perseverance, a good year for transformations, at least according to one of the guests who spoke with Stolas the day before. A very good Lunar year indeed.
Stolas isn’t sure how good the year will be for everyone, but he will make sure the evening is enjoyable for all who are there, or at the very least comforting. He will give it his best regardless.
When his first set ends, he mingles with some of the regulars, checking in to see how they are enjoying themselves and reminding everyone that his third set will be by request, encouraging them to write down what they would like him to sing.
He noticed the regular from earlier making his way toward the request book, his movements heavy and unhurried. After the man sits back down, and before anyone else has a chance to add anything, Stolas discreetly makes his way over to check the request. A lullaby. Interesting.
Stolas returned to mingling. He passed the bar and glanced at the bartender once more. He is definitely looking back at him. When their eyes meet again, the imp smiles and gives him a wink, his eyes bright with playful mischief. Stolas shivers, feeling an unfamiliar warmth rise to his face and fluff his feathers. How is it that his body keeps reacting so strongly to this man?
He has been married and has even had a child from that marriage. However, getting married had never been his choice. It had been arranged for the sole purpose of having a child. Sex had not been pleasant, and as soon as Stolas found a way to end the marriage while still keeping his daughter, he did. His ex-wife, however, remained the only sexual experience Stolas had ever had.
He is quite alright with that. Focusing most of his time on his daughter has always been preferable. But this ruggedly handsome imp stirs something primal within him. He has awakened something Stolas has never felt before. For the first time in his entire life, Stolas finds himself wondering.
He wonders how those strong hands would feel on his body. He wonders what it would be like to have that tail wrapped around his leg, his thigh, his waist, anywhere against him. He wonders what those lips would feel like, what his breath would smell like, and what his tongue might taste like. He let himself wonder, dream for just a second, and then he abruptly shuts it down. He has to focus.
First and foremost, he is at work. He can’t keep fantasizing about the bartender. Second, he has a daughter waiting for him at home. He can’t indulge in one-night stands. Those kinds of things are simply not for him, that much is certain.
Luckily, it is time for his second set to begin. He returns to the stage and notices with satisfaction that the tip jar is holding a decent amount. He will split the money evenly with Eric, his piano player. After all, his singing can only do so much. Eric’s soulful playing adds that extra something. This is a team effort.
Stolas watches the crowd more closely as he moves between the tables. There are quite a few regulars, but also a number of new faces he has never seen before. If a place called the Lunar Lounge is hosting a Lunar New Year event, it makes sense that this would be the place to be, he thinks.
The lounge is decorated with horse-themed ornaments. Stolas isn’t sure where the manager managed to find so many of them, but somehow they pulled it off and made it look genuinely nice. Stolas had been certain it was going to look tacky. He is grateful that he was wrong.
He keeps trying not to look up at the bar, knowing it will only distract him. Because of that, he doesn’t let himself linger on the bartender. His attention shouldn’t rest on one person longer than on the others. The patrons of the Lunar Lounge want to feel special, not overlooked in favor of anyone else in the bar, especially not a bartender.
Still, Stolas steals glances whenever he can, when he turns or moves between tables, as though he were simply checking on the guests seated at the bar. Any excuse will do. The bartender moves with effortless skill. He never stays in one place, darting from one end of the bar to the other. He even performs showy pours, juggling bottles as he works. Stolas finds it impressive. He has heard of bartenders doing things like that, but he has never seen it himself until now.
Stolas is still circulating through the room when the new guy takes his break. He watches him head toward the employees-only area at the back of the bar. Wait… did he just tuck one of the horse decorations into his pocket? Stolas must have imagined that. It couldn’t possibly be what he saw. In any case, there’s no time to dwell on it. He is still singing for his supper, after all.
By the time this set ends, the new bartender is back behind the bar. Stolas decided that avoiding him any longer isn’t really an option; it would be far too obvious. At the very least, he should introduce himself. And he really needs some water.
“Hello,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m Stolas, the lounge singer. It’s nice to meet you.”
…Okay. That had been awkward.
Why had he mentioned he was the lounge singer? That had been completely unnecessary. Of course he was the lounge singer. He had already performed two full sets. The bartender certainly knew that. Stolas briefly considered imploding on the spot, or having the earth swallow him whole, anything to escape the moment.
The bartender chuckles. If he had noticed Stolas’s painfully obvious nerves, he hides it well. “Nice to meet you, man. I’m Blitz. The O is silent. I’m the new bartender.”
Stolas wonders, for just a moment, where there is supposed to be an O in the name Blitz, but the thought doesn’t last long. Blitz’s voice throws him off completely, deep enough to do unspeakable things to his nervous system. He manages a weak smile and asks the first thing that comes to mind, just to end the agony.
“Could I get some water, please?”
“Yeah, sure. I bet you get pretty parched from all that singing.” He adds a wink that instantly leaves Stolas’s mouth dry.
“Yes, quite,” Stolas replied, wishing he could think of something else to say, but his brain refused to cooperate.
Instead, he watches Blitz reach beneath the bar and pull out a bottle of water. Stolas thanks him when it is handed to him.
The imp is wearing a white button-up shirt with a skin-tight leather vest over it. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and Stolas can’t explain why that is as sexy as it is. He would never have thought of forearms as attractive, but on this imp, the way he moves his arms gives the clear impression of strength. From this close, Stolas has the distinct sense that Blitz is very muscular.
Stolas imagines that he is very strong. He wonders what it would be like to have Blitz hoist him up and set him somewhere, like the bar, and then… nope, nope, nope. Stolas has to keep those thoughts in check. That is not a road that is safe to go down, even though he is finding it harder and harder to stop himself. He lets out a slow breath, glancing absently around the room to hide how flustered he feels.
“I hope you’re enjoying working here,” Stolas finally says, after several long seconds of forcing his thoughts into something nonsexual.
“Yeah,” Blitz replies, wiping down the bar before handing a bottle of Beelzajuice to a guy who has approached with an empty one. He looks serious, focused on his work whenever he isn’t interacting with anyone. But he puts on the most brilliant smile every time he looks at Stolas.
“Everyone’s been really nice. People here tip pretty well too. That’s always a plus.”
Stolas nods in agreement. The tips really are a great bonus.
Blitz suddenly gives him a smile, the kind that makes Stolas’s stomach flutter and leave his knees feeling weak. “The music is really nice too. They’ve got a really amazing singer.”
Stolas feels the blush spread instantly across his cheeks. “Thank you,” he says looking away. He is used to people complimenting his singing, and in many ways he has grown numb to the patrons’ praises. However, for some reason, hearing it from Blitz means more. It makes him feel special for the first time in a long while.
Stolas stands up suddenly, a little too quickly actually. His nerves getting the better of him. “I need to go back and do my next set.” He lifts his water bottle slightly. “Thank you for the water.”
Blitz shoots him a pair of finger guns and replies with a simple, “No problem.”
Which only makes Stolas blush all over again. What is wrong with him today?
He rushes onto the stage, where Eric is already seated at the piano, looking over the request book. Stolas feels a twinge of guilt, knowing he should have been there sooner to review the requests. He has definitely let himself get distracted by the new guy.
“Anything we can’t do?” Stolas asks, resting a hand on his pianist’s shoulder.
Eric shakes his head. “Nah, these are all fine, and I’ve got sheet music for most of them. Except for one.” He studies the book thoughtfully.
Stolas catches the look. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Eric lets out a slow breath before answering. “The one I don’t have sheet music for is this.” He points to the song in question. “It’s a lullaby, and I’m not sure if we should play it or skip it.”
He glances over at the guest, the one with the fading wedding band line on his finger. His drink sits in front of him, virtually untouched, a quiet sign of deep grief and, above all, loneliness. Stolas feels he can understand the weight resting in that man’s soul.
While he has never felt an ounce of love for his wife, his daughter is his entire world. He imagines the depth of sorrow he would feel if he ever lost her, and he suspects that is exactly what this man is enduring. The thought makes Stolas’ heart ache for him.
He turns back to Eric. “You can play this, though?” he asks.
“Oh yeah, sure. It’s simple enough.”
“Then we’ll make this the last song. Just stay on your toes, because I’m going to add a little extra to it as we go.”
Eric looks doubtful, but he agrees. He is here to make people happy, and if anyone needs a moment of joy tonight, it is the man staring into his drink.
The third set begins. He moves around the room during the songs, though he returns to the stage often, most of the time with tip money for the jar. The crowd loves the request set. Usually, when a song belongs to them, patrons would give some kind of minute hint to claim it as theirs.
Stolas has learned early on how to read the guests. When he spots the person he suspects has requested a song, he makes a point of strolling up to their table and meeting their eyes. Sometimes he will gently caress a shoulder, a cheek, or ruffle their hair, always depending on what feels most appropriate in the moment.
As the set begins to wind down and it is time for the final song, he taks center stage. “We have one more request before I go on break,” he announced, noticing the man’s head lift with a flicker of hope. “This one is actually quite special to me. It’s a little different from what I usually sing for you lovely people, but I do hope you all enjoy this beautiful song.”
Eric begins playing the piano softly and slowly. Stolas looks directly at the man with a melancholic, gentle smile of quiet complicity before he starting to sing. “It always seems more quiet in the dark.”
A hush falls over the room. The soft, velvety sound of his voice seems to capture the crowd of adults, holding them in a trance, as though drawing them back into childhood. Everyone’s attention shifts fully to him. “It always feels so stark.”
The man’s eyes are brimming with tears, threatening to spill over. His body trembles slightly as his hands clutch the edge of the table, his lips silently forming the words along with the song. “How silence grows under the moon.”
He realizes he needs to look away, at anyone else, or he will begin to cry as well. He had sung this lullaby to his owlet many times before, and now he is offering these same words to a stranger who needs them just as much.
He glanced around the room, realizing that someone has dimmed the lights. He can see everyone clearly now. “Constellations gone so soon.” The room is completely enraptured. All eyes are on him.
He looks toward the bar, a mistake to be sure. A pair of honey-colored eyes with cherry-red centers stare back at him, wide and shining, filled with wonder. “I used to think that I was bold. I used to think love would be fun.”
Would love be fun with someone like Blitz? Seeing that soft, attentive expression, he has a feeling it truly could be.
“Now all my stories have been told except for one.” Could Blitz be his untold story? He can almost see it, a romance both tender and passionate, filled with warmth and joy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it is a ridiculous thought. But in that moment, the possibility feels more real and tangible than anything he has ever known.
He has to tear his eyes away. He fears those beautiful eyes might see straight into his soul, might uncover his deep longing to be loved and wanted. He worries that this complete stranger could read him like an open book if he doesn’t force himself to look elsewhere.
He turns his gaze back to the demon who had requested the song. “And if the seven rings collapse, though today could be my last, you will be okay. When I am gone, you will be okay.”
He tries to pour intention into every word. He wants this man to be okay, not because he is a regular, but simply because everyone deserved that much. If nothing else, he hopes to give him a small glimmer of hope.
The man looks up at him and offers a small smile along with a nod. Stolas returns both. He makes a conscious effort to look around the room for the rest of the song, but when it comes time to finish, his eyes find their way back to the one who had requested it.
“And you will be ooookay,” he sings softly, letting his voice fade into silence. When Eric plays the final note, the room comes back to life.
Applause thunders through the room, tearing through the silence almost violently. He smiles. “Thank you, everyone. You’re too kind. Thank you. I’ll be taking a short break and will return shortly for my final set of the evening.” He gives a brief bow and steps off the stage.
The man stops him. “Hey, um… thanks. I needed that. You did good.”
Stolas smiles and gives the man a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You will be okay, you know.”
The man shrugs. “Maybe.” With that, he finally picks up his drink, raises it in a small toast toward Stolas, and downs it in one go. “Have a good night,” he sais before making his way toward the exit.
Stolas heads back to the bar. Blitz is serving drinks to a group of women who are very obviously flirting with him, and he flirted right back. A sharp pang of jealousy hits Stolas, followed closely by a flicker of fear. Is Blitz into women? He wants that kind of attention, but if Blitz prefers women, then his little fantasy is hopeless from the start.
Blitz glances up and spots him at the end of the bar. His playful posture shifts, and that bright smile returns. He slowly makes his way toward him. It makes him smile to see Blitz making such an obvious effort to reach him.
Is that smile just for him too? And does he dare allow himself to hope?
“Hey, birdy. That last song… holy shit, that was fucking amazing.”
Once again, a blush creeps across his cheeks. “Thank you. It’s a very good song.”
“Yeah,” Blitz says with a slight shrug before meeting his eyes again. “But you made it amazing.”
At this rate, he might as well have put on rouge. At least then his blush would have been easier to hide.
“So, um…” Blitz seems to struggle to find the right words. “You, uh… know that guy pretty well?”
It takes Stolas a moment to realize who Blitz means.
“The man who requested the song? Not really. He’s a regular, but I could tell he really needed it tonight. So I gave it everything I had.”
Blitz just looks at him. He has the distinct feeling Blitz is searching for something, though he has no idea what.
“Well, it was really impressive,” Blitz finally says. He hands him a bottle of water, then turns to take an order from a patron who has just walked up and is waving him down.
He glances down at the bottle in his hand. He hadn’t asked for it. He needs it, yes, but he hasn’t said a word. And yet, Blitz had noticed and provided it anyway. The realization feels oddly intimate, someone quietly understanding a need without it ever being voiced. He knows he shouldn’t read too much into such a small gesture, of course. Still, it makes him feel… seen.
He sips his water as he watches Blitz work behind the bar. The imp moves with confidence and ease, handling the room without effort, drawing people in with nothing more than a smile or a glance. It is clear he understands how to connect with a crowd.
Stolas finds himself wanting, more than he cares to admit, to know Blitz better.
There is more to him than good looks and charm. He has caught glimpses of it while he was singing, and again in their brief conversations. Blitz seems to keep parts of himself carefully guarded, but the depth is there. And he wants to see what lays beneath.
For now, he needs to finish his final set. He returns to the stage, singing the songs he and Eric had prepared, working the crowd one last time. As he passes one table, a man pinched his backside. He turns, wags a disapproving finger at him, then follows it with a wink before moving on.
It keeps the crowd entertained, and the gesture earns a few giggles, but he makes a mental note not to pass by that table again. Keep the audience happy, but keep yourself safe. That is the balance he has learned to maintain.
He finishes the set and thanks everyone for being there, reminding them that he will return the following night and that he would love to see them again.
The manager then steps onto the stage and invites everyone to help welcome in the Year of the Horse. The ceiling fills with magical fireworks, some bursting like traditional displays, others exploding into the shapes of galloping horses. It is truly a beautiful sight.
He glances towards the bar and can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face.
Blitz’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly open as he watches the magical display with the pure joy and wonder of a child. It is absolutely endearing. “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Stolas hears him say.
He takes a seat at the end of the bar. He spares the fireworks one last glance, but quickly decides the view behind the bar is far more appealing. Resting his arm on the counter, he props his chin in his hand and simply watches Blitz enjoy himself, pretending to look downward while peeking at him from beneath his lashes, only barely hiding it.
When the display ends, Blitz blinks a few times before letting out a satisfied breath. “Man, that was amazing.”
“Yes, it was,” he agrees. “Mind if I grab some water before I head to my dressing room?”
Blitz smiles dreamily as he hands over the water. There is something undeniably sweet about how genuinely thrilled Blitz could be by something as simple as a light show.
Back in his dressing room, Stolas studies his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. It is the Year of the Horse. If the gentleman from the night before is right, then among other things it is a year meant for adventure. That isn’t a state of being he is used to.
Still, he finds himself yearning for it. More precisely, he finds himself yearning to be adventurous with one particular, strikingly handsome imp.
He runs through every possible scenario in his head. If he is bold and acts on his attraction to Blitz, it will probably end badly. But if he stays meek and does nothing, he knows he will never forgive himself. This might be his only chance.
With that thought in mind, he checks himself one last time. His black slacks are perfectly pressed, and he is wearing his maroon shirt with the feathered window, thank goodness. For him, at least, he thinks he looked pretty good. No time like the present. With that, he heads back out to the bar.
Blitz is moving around, gathering up the horse decorations.
“Blitz, what are you doing?” Stolas asks. “You know there’s a custodial company coming to take care of all this.”
Blitz spins around to face him, his eyes lingering just a moment too long in all the right places before he hurriedly adds, “Shit, how long before they get here?”
He blinks, confused. “I have no idea.”
“Crap. I guess I’d better grab as much of this stuff as I can before they show up. The manager said I could, but he didn’t say there was a time limit.” With that, Blitz resumes collecting decorations with renewed energy.
“Do you want all the horse decorations over here in one pile?” Stolas asks, still trying to figure out why.
“Yeah,” Blitz replies, carefully working to remove a cutout that has been stapled to the wall.
Stolas waves his hand, and with a bit of magic, every horse-shaped decoration in the bar flies neatly into the pile in an instant, confetti included. He is about to offer to take care of the confetti as well when he hears a low whistle.
“Now that is a really useful freaking talent,” Blitz says, stepping closer and clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
He tries not to shiver at the touch. Blitz let his hand linger a moment longer than necessary, and Stolas finds that he doesn’t mind in the slightest. They hold each other’s gaze for a brief moment before Blitz speaks again.
“So… I know this is probably a really bad idea. Us being work colleagues and all…”
There is no way Blitz is about to do exactly what he was hoping for. Is there?
Blitz moves behind the bar, creating what feels like a symbolic barrier of safety. Stolas leans forward, resting both elbows on the counter and propping his chin in his hands. He waits in silence, giving Blitz time to find the words, not daring to speak for fear of breaking the moment.
Blitz looks at him, then suddenly shakes his head with a quiet chuckle. “Fuck it,” he whispers under his breath. He leans in over the bar as well, elbows propped, chin resting in his hand mirroring Stolas “Tell me, pretty bird,” he says in a low, velvety voice, intimate and unguarded, “would you let me buy you a drink?”
He feels like he might jump out of his skin. A spark of hope flares in his chest, burning bright like a star. “I would like that,” he replies. “I would like that very much indeed.” He does his best to sound calm.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispers, This is the start of something really good. He has never wanted the voices in his head to be right more than he does now. Perhaps this is the beginning of the very thing he has secretly longed for.
He smiles at Blitz and decides he will enjoy the journey, whatever it turns out to be, and wherever it might lead him. After all, it is the Year of the Horse, and it is meant to be a year for adventure. Or so he has been told anyway.