Work Text:
The bell above the door jingled as Abigail stepped into The Triangle, camera bag slung over one shoulder.
The place was dimly lit and eclectic in a comfortable way — strings of mismatched lights hanging across the ceiling, music humming through blown-out speakers, and people talking loudly over pool games in the back.
"Okay," one of her friends laughed behind her, "you were right. This place is actually kinda cool."
Abigail grinned. "I told you."
Then she saw him.
Just a guy sitting amongst a group of people at the edge of the bar in a black hoodie, sleeves rolled up, and turning a glass slowly in his hands.
And inexplicably her chest hurt.
The feeling hit so fast she physically stopped walking.
The guy looked up and their eyes met.
He frowned immediately.
The look on his face wasn’t annoyed nor confused. But almost like he recognized her.
Abigail swallowed hard.
Something strange twisted in her stomach.
She looked away immediately and made her way to the bar to order her first drink of the night.
And she tried her hardest to enjoy the night. She really did. But even without meaning too; it seemed she kept making eye contact with that dang guy. It was like he was a magnet.
In between trying to listen to her friends updating her on their lives and awkwardly swaying on the dance floor to old Madonna songs. It seemed he was everywhere.
Laughing at something one of his friends said. Leaning back against his stool. Running a hand through dark curls. Looking at her.
And every single time their eyes met, something uncomfortable twisted low in her stomach.
Like anticipation. Or dread. Or both.
By the umpteenth time and about 4 shots later; Abigail’s ego grew and she decided she had to go confront the guy.
"Do I know you?" She says to him after sauntering over to him.
He was leaning against a wall outside smoking a cigarette by himself.
Her throat tightens and she silently curses herself for willing herself over here. She should’ve kept ignoring him. Not like she would see him again after this; so what did it matter?
"No?" He said softly.
“Then why do you keep staring at me?” She huffs out annoyingly hands bracing her hips in a faux sign of dominance.
”You’re staring at me too, short stack,” he replies with a shit eating grin.
The nickname should annoy her more than it did.
He takes a long drag of his cig and blows out a puff of air before she can respond back.
”Don’t call me that,” she chastises while swatting at the air in front of her.
”Alright,” he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly which only further infuriates her.
”Okay.”
But she still doesn’t leave. The conversation is over but she doesn’t feel quite resolved. She is racking her brain on what to say next but he cuts her to the chase.
"You know it’s funny," he mutters as he smashes the cigarette into an ash tray next to him.
"What?"
"You seem really familiar.”
His eyes examine her and she feels oddly over exposed.
Abigail laughed nervously. "Yeah. You too."
”Do you smoke?” He raises a brow as he holds out the item to her.
She shakes her head no but sits on a chair next to him anyways.
“I’m Abigail.”
He nods his head but doesn’t say anything in return.
”And you are?” She probes.
”Are you hitting on me?” He smirks.
”No!” A blush spreads across her cheeks.
”Don’t you have friends to get back to?” He twirls the cigarette in between his fingers.
”Eh, they’ll be fine without me for a second.”
Her feet dangle in the air as she talks.
He stares at her for a second longer than expected.
Then his expression softened so briefly she almost thought she imagined it.
“You usually walk up to random dudes outside bars?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“…Why?”
”Well, didn’t your parents warn you not to talk to strangers?”
”You wouldn’t be a stranger if you told me your name.” She glares at him.
”I can’t tell you that; you’re a stranger.”
Her jaw tightens at his stubbornness.
“Are you even old enough to be here?” He teases her.
”Are you?”
She notices he’s playing with what looks like a lighter in his other hand. She wonders if he’s nervous.
”I’m twenty two for your information.”
”Ha! I’m twenty five!”
He laughs at her.
”Twenty five and you’re not even five feet?”
She glares up at him but it isn’t a fact she can really argue against.
“You always fidget that much?”
He blinks.
“What?”
“Your hands. Am I making you nervous?”
He immediately stops moving.
“I’m not nervous.”
“Sure. You’re bad at making friends, you know that?” She observes.
”So that’s what you're doing?”
“I don’t know,” she looks down to her feet.
”Hey, Abigail! Where have you been?” One of her friends pushes her way through the crowd to walk up to them.
”Oh, I was just taking a break with..” She trails off and looks at him expectantly.
“Felix,” he mutters.
”Felix!”
”Well, thank you for babysitting Abby.”
“He wasn’t babysitting me!” She protests.
”You’re welcome.”
”I’ll go ahead and steal her back now.” The friend smiles at him as she hooks a hand around Abigail’s arm and starts to walk away before Abigail stands in her place.
”I’ll be right there; I just need a moment.”
She whips around to face Felix.
”Do you come here often?”
”So, you are hitting on me.”
”Do you or do you not?”
”I do.”
”So if I came back next weekend you would be here?”
”Eh, can’t make any promises…”
But the disappointed look on her face makes his resolve dissipate.
”Yes, you would.”
”Okay, cool.”
Her eyes dart across his face fast before she awkwardly waves her hand goodbye and follows after her friend; getting lost back in the crowd.
As Abigail walks away, he has the overwhelming urge to stop her from leaving.
Instead, he silently looks forward to next weekend.
The entire week, Abigail told herself she wasn’t thinking about him.
Which was technically true.
She was thinking about the way he looked at her like he knew something she didn’t. The stupid “short stack” nickname he gave her. The fact he refused to tell her his name until the very end. The cigarette smoke curled around him outside beneath the neon sign. And his hands fidgeting constantly despite insisting he wasn’t nervous
Entirely different than thinking about him.
By Friday night, she was dragging her friends downtown again.
“You’re dressing cuter than last week,” Maya accused as Abigail reapplied lip gloss in the rideshare window reflection.
“I literally always dress like this.”
“Mmhm.”
Abigail rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
But her stomach twisted the second The Triangle came into view.
The music was louder tonight. The place more crowded. Bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder beneath colored lights.
And immediately she started looking for him.
Which was embarrassing.
She tried not to make it obvious as she ordered drinks with her friends, pretending to pay attention to conversation while her eyes kept drifting across the room.
Nothing.
No black hoodie. No dark curls. No irritating smirk.
A weird disappointment settled in her chest.
See? She thought bitterly. Of course he isn’t here.
“You okay?” Maya asked.
“Fine.” Though she sounded anything but.
“You look like somebody kicked your puppy.”
“I said I’m fine.”
She immediately regrets how snappish she’s being.
Maya narrowed her eyes suspiciously before getting distracted by someone calling her name from the dance floor.
Abigail lingered at the bar alone for a moment.
She’s resigned to give up and enjoy the rest of her night when she feels someone lean against the counter next to her.
“You look disappointed, short stack.”
Her entire body jolted.
She whipped around so fast she nearly elbowed someone holding tequila shots.
Felix stood behind her wearing a dark denim jacket this time instead of the hoodie.
And he looked way too pleased with himself.
“You did that on purpose!” she accused.
“A little.” He admits.
She hated how instantly relieved she felt seeing him.
His eyes flicked over her face briefly like he was checking something.
“You came back.”
Something about the way he said it made heat crawl into her cheeks.
“You said you’d be here.”
“I said maybe.”
“Well, you’re here.”
“So are you.”
She opened her mouth before closing it again.
God, talking to him was annoying. Why did she come back?
“You stalking me now?” he asked.
“You wish,” she rolls her eyes at him.
“Eh, maybe.”
The confidence in his voice made her stomach flip unpleasantly.
Or pleasantly.
Unfortunately both feelings seemed identical around him.
He leaned against the bar beside her while she tried very hard not to notice how close he suddenly was.
“You always this grumpy?” he asked.
“Are you always this obnoxious?”
“Definetely.” The mischievous grin that took over his face made her breath catch for a moment.
“At least you’re self aware.”
He laughed quietly.
There it was again—that strange feeling.
Like hearing a song she somehow already knew.
Abigail frowned slightly.
“What?” Felix noticed immediately.
“Nothing.”
“You made the face.”
“What face?”
“The thinking too hard face.”
She squinted at him suspiciously.
“How would you know what my face looks like?”
“I’m looking at you.”
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
The answer wasn’t flirtatious but it still sent her skin on fire.
Then Felix ruined the moment immediately.
“You’re staring again, by the way.”
“Oh my god.”
She grabbed her drink and turned away dramatically while he laughed beside her.
The sound settled warm beneath her ribs before she could stop it.
“You know,” she muttered into her cup, “you’re significantly less mysterious than last time.”
“And yet you still came back.”
Damn him.
Abigail glanced sideways at him.
Before she could retaliate, someone across the room shouted—
“Leeroy!”
Both of them froze.
The expression on Felix or Leeroy’s face shifted instantly.
Abigail blinked.
“Leeroy?”
A guy near the pool tables waved lazily. “You ignoring me again, asshole?”
Leeroy exhaled once through his nose.
Then he looked back at Abigail.
“That’s not important.”
But now she was smiling.
A real smile this time.
“You lied to me.”
“You were a stranger.”
“You gave me a fake name!”
“You survived.”
“You’re actually the worst.”
“And yet,” he said again, eyes dropping to her grin, “you keep talking to me.”
For some reason, neither of them looked away after that.
Abigail decided very quickly that Leeroy was dangerous in an extremely specific way.
Not murderer dangerous.
Worse.
The kind of dangerous that made her feel too aware of herself.
Because somehow every conversation with him turned into a game she didn’t realize she was playing until she was already losing.
“You know,” she said, pointing at him with the little plastic sword from her drink garnish, “I don’t trust people who lie about their names.”
Leeroy leaned lazily against the bar.
“You trusted me enough to give me your name and to show back up here.”
“I said I don’t trust you. I never said I had survival instincts.”
“That’s fair.”
He stole the cherry from her drink before she could stop him.
“Hey!”
“You weren’t eating it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.”
She glared at him while he bit the cherry stem clean off.
Annoyingly, he looked very pleased with himself.
The alcohol warming her system had made everything softer around the edges. The crowded bar didn’t feel as overwhelming now. The music buzzed pleasantly through the walls while colored lights flickered over everyone’s faces.
He seemed different tonight too.
Less guarded.
Or maybe just more entertained.
He kept looking at her like he was waiting to see what she’d do next.
“So,” Abigail said, resting her chin in her hand. “What’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah. Everybody has a deal. And you especially seem to have some… deal.”
“You watch too many coming-of-age movies.”
“And you avoid questions.”
“Correct.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You’re impossible.”
She takes a defiant sip of her drink.
“So what do you do?” she asked.
“For work?”
“For fun. I assume you don’t haunt bars professionally.”
“Debatable.”
She kicked his shin lightly beneath the bar.
“Ow.”
“That was barely a tap.”
“You’re violent.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Also true.”
He took a sip from his beer before answering.
“I bounce around jobs.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I get bored easily.”
“That sounds like code for unemployed.”
“Excuse you, I’m employed right now.”
“Doing what?”
He hesitated just long enough for her to notice.
“…Warehouse stuff.”
“You’re lying again,” she accuses him.
“I’m embellishing.”
“You’re bad at embellishing.”
He grinned into his drink.
“What about you?”
Abigail shrugged.
“I’m an accountant. But for fun, I film sometimes..”
“Sometimes?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That usually means you care about it too much.”
The statement hit harder than expected.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her glass.
He noticed immediately.
This was bad.
She barely knew him and already conversation with anyone else in the room felt dull by comparison.
“What do you film?” he asked.
The question sounded genuine this time.
Not teasing.
Abigail blinked at him.
“I like to explore unexplored places.” She fiddled with the straw in her drink.
“A trespasser! Who would’ve thought?”
“I mean yes but no. I explore abandoned areas and post the videos to youtube.”
“So, you’re a vlogger?”
“No! No. No. No. I usually don’t show myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate being perceived.”
“Interesting.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You like watching people but don’t like being watched.”
She pointed at him dramatically.
“There you go doing the weird analysis thing again.”
“You started it.”
“You’re just mad because your only personality trait is cigarettes and lying.”
“Ouch.” He holds a hand to his chest in fake pain.
He laughed again—that low, rough laugh that kept catching her off guard.
It felt strangely familiar.
Not the sound itself.
The feeling of earning it.
Like she’d done this before somehow.
Abigail took another drink quickly to ignore the thought.
“So how often do you come here?” He asked.
“Not much. My friends dragged me out last week.”
“But not tonight.”
Heat crept up her neck.
“No, tonight was…” she paused. “Coincidence.”
“Sure.”
“It was!”
“Mhm.”
“You’re so annoying.”
Leeroy spun his empty bottle slowly against the bartop while looking at her.
Fidgeting again.
Abigail noticed his hands first this time.
Always moving. Always restless.
Tap tap tap against the glass. Thumb flicking the label. Finger twitching against the bottle neck.
“You really do get nervous,” she said softly.
His hand stopped instantly.
Their eyes met.
For the first time all night, he looked caught off guard.
“I don’t,” he said automatically.
“You do.”
“Nope.”
“You literally freeze every time I mention it.”
“Maybe you’re making yourself nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Liar.”
The word landed between them lightly.
But neither of them looked away.
Then the lights inside the bar flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And for a split second Abigail felt something sharp twist through her chest.
A horrible dizzy sensation.
Bright colors.
Laughter.
Teeth.
Noise.
Her stomach lurched violently.
Across from her, Leeroy suddenly looked equally unsettled.
His face had gone pale.
The feeling vanished as quickly as it came.
Music resumed. People kept talking. Nobody else seemed to notice.
Abigail swallowed hard.
“You okay?”
Leroy stared at her strangely.
“Yeah,” he said slowly.
Then he blinked like he was snapping himself back into place and reached for his drink again.
Abigail watched him carefully.
“Have you ever been to the C and A building?”
The question came out of nowhere.
Abigail blinked.
“…What?”
“The C and A building,” he repeated, like it was obvious. “Have you explored it?”
Her confusion shifted into something sharper.
“Why?”
A beat.
He shrugged one shoulder.
“No reason.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He let out a slow breath through his nose, like he was debating whether to respond at all.
“I’ve been there. You said you explore abandoned buildings. I was wondering if you’ve been there too.”
Abigail straightened slightly.
“When?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why were you there?”
This time, he didn’t answer.
He just looked away.
“Did you go or not?” He pushes more.
Abigail exhaled, still watching him.
“Fine. Yes. I’ve been there.”
Something in his shoulders loosened ever so slightly.
“There were headsets. I remember there being headsets,” she added suddenly, before she could stop herself. “That place was so weird.”
That got his attention fully.
His gaze sharpened.
“The headsets,” he repeated.
“Yeah,” she said.
For the first time, Leeroy looked like he didn’t have a ready joke.
“Very creepy,” he said finally.
“Did you put one on too?”
“Yeah. It kinda lit up for a second before dying out.”
“That happened to me too!” she almost jumps out of her chair.
He just studies her for a second.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Weird.”
Abigail forces herself to sit back down properly, suddenly aware of how close she’s leaning.
“Okay,” she says, trying to smooth it over. “So we both got defective haunted electronics. Great.”
That earns her a faint huff of laughter from him.
Not a full laugh.
But something softer.
He turns his bottle in his hands again, but slower now. More thoughtful than restless.
“You’re not bad to talk to.”
That lands differently.
Abigail stills slightly.
“That sounded like a backhanded compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Mm.”
He watches her reaction like he’s waiting for her to run away from it.
She doesn’t.
Instead she nudges his elbow lightly with hers.
“Yeah, well,” she says, “you’re only tolerable in small doses.”
The noise of the bar swells around them again.
Abigail reaches for her drink again, then pauses.
“You know,” she says, “I should probably go find my friends before they think I got kidnapped.”
“Did you?”
She squints at him.
“Did I what?”
“Get kidnapped.”
“That depends. Are you planning on kidnapping me?”
“Not tonight.”
She points at him.
“Good answer.”
Then she hesitates.
Something in her expression softens a little, like she’s suddenly aware this is going to end.
“So,” she says, more casually than she feels. “You just come here a lot, huh?”
“Sometimes.”
“I might—” she pauses, then shrugs like it doesn’t matter, “—come back again next weekend.”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe,” she adds quickly, like she’s trying to protect her dignity. “If I’m bored.”
“Right.”
He says it like he doesn’t believe her at all.
He shifts slightly, reaching into his pocket.
Abigail watches him curiously.
He pulls out his phone, glances at it once, then looks back at her.
“Give me your number,” he says.
Abigail blinks.
“Oh.”
That clearly wasn’t the direction she expected.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he adds.
“I’m not surprised,” she lies immediately.
He raises a brow.
She exhales sharply and reaches for her phone too, like she needs something to do with her hands.
“Okay,” she says. “But if you spam me I’m blocking you.”
“Fair.”
They both unlock their phones.
It’s quiet for a second while they stand there—close enough that she can see the faint glow of his screen reflecting in his eyes.
He holds his phone out first.
She types her number in, then hands it back.
Their fingers brush.
It’s brief but it lingers anyway.
Leeroy glances at the contact name she saved herself under before he pockets his phone.
“See you next weekend?” he asks.
She hesitates just long enough to be annoying.
Then shrugs.
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
But she’s already smiling as she turns away.
And behind her; she doesn’t see it, but he watches her leave a second longer than necessary.