Chapter Text
“Your hands look boring,” the man commented. Gun glanced at the person who he had served a freshly brewed coffee. Although he was wearing a red-tinted sunglasses, Gun can see that the man was looking at him, startling him a bit when their eyes met.
“I mean your hands look nice, seems like you’re a hard worker. But they look boring – no tattoo, ring, or bracelet. Not even a watch,” the man elaborated. Gun forced a smile and bowed down before he turned around, speed-walking towards the kitchen area of the café.
“What was that?” Lee asked, their manager. He had been eyeing them since it took awhile before Gun came back on their area.
“Nothing. I think he’s just hung over or something. He was mumbling how my hands looked boring,” Gun replied as he busied himself.
“What a creep,” Lee clicked his tongue as he eyed the man who sipped his coffee while looking outside the window. He was goodlooking, Lee wouldn’t deny that. He wore a white shirt under a brown suede jacket, paired with crisp denim pants and black faux leather shoes. With the way how he kept on bouncing his knees and tapping his feet, Gun might’ve been right when he said the man might be on to something. He sighed and shook his head. Another day, another weird customer.
“Hey, bartender,” the man slurred, “You look cute.”
Gun didn’t even looked at the man who spoke. He was accustomed with these type of situations especially it’s been 2 years since he left the café and started working at the pub.
“Hey,” the man called on him again, “Your finger looks boring. Let’s put a ring on it.”
Gun stopped wiping the bar area. This wasn’t the first time he had heard that line.
The man held out a ring on his direction, almost shoving it to his face. Gun’s co-worker, Joss, looked at the man and said, “Excuse me, sir. You’re too drunk. Would you want for me to call you a cab?”
But the man, drunk as hell, ignored Joss, “Hey cutie. Let’s get married.”
Gun squinted his eyes and under the dim lights, he realized that the man asking him for marriage, was the same man who commented how his hands looked boring 2 years ago at Lee’s café. The man was even wearing his red-tinted glasses. How could I even miss that, Gun thought to himself, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t accept drunk proposals,” Gun replied, smiling sarcastically.
The familiar man rolled his eyes and coughed out, “I’m not drunk. Who said I’m drunk?” He brushed up his disheveled hair, “I’m not drunk. See? Now, will you marry me?” He grinned.
Gun shook his head, “Sir, I suggest for you to take a rest. My co-worker here will escort you outside.” He motioned to Joss, who was beckoning the man to stand up.
“Aww,” the familiar man said as he let Joss take him away, too tired and drunk to protest. He shoved the ring down his pocket and shot a glance towards Gun before walking out of the pub.
Gun and Joss finished their shift at 2am. Alongside with their other co-workers, they closed the pub after cleaning it out of sleeping drunkards and spilled liquors. Since Gun lived the farthest, he quickly said goodbye to everyone and walked on the opposite direction from the rest.
The alleyway was a bit dark, the neon signs from the other shops were already turned off, and almost no one was in sight. So when Gun heard a rustle from his right side, he almost shouted in fear especially when a figure started walking towards him.
“Hey,” the figure – which was a man – said to him, “I’m not drunk anymore.”
Gun narrowed his eyes at the man who was struggling to walk towards him. It was the man from earlier and before. He was still drunk.
“Sir, you’re creeping me out. Please don’t come any nearer,” Gun said in a small voice. He saw how the man was taller than him and despite the man being drunk, Gun knows he’s still capable of doing something that might hurt him.
“I’m sorry,” the man softly said, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He held up his hands and though his eyes were half-closed, he sounded sincere – he looked sincere. “But I –” he wasn’t able to finish what he’s supposed to say as he collapsed at Gun’s arms who was quick on his footing. He grunted as soon as he felt the man’s weight on him. No one was around to help him – to help them, so despite of being afraid and obviously burdened, he dragged themselves inside a cab and to his apartment.
Gun struggled carrying the man on his arms but he still managed to slowly lay him down on his bed. Gun let out a sigh as he looked at the man, snoring loudly, unaware of what had happened. He wiped the man’s face with a wet cloth and couldn’t help but stare. He was good looking. And he looked young and well-off, a bit of a contrast to their pub’s usual customers who were gaudy businessmen, wasting their money and themselves on money and misery. Even back then at the café, he looked neat despite being jittery. Gun scolded himself as he stereotyped the man, shaking his head. He took off the man’s shoes and covered him with his blanket.