Toby loves the stars, music, coffee, and very few other things—in that order. When he meets a man who makes him question everything—his lists, his priorities, and worst of all, his feelings—will he let his need for control take over, or will he let himself fall? A story about finding love amidst the journey to discovering who you are.
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“Tobes, please? Please, please, please with a cherry on top?”
Sigh. “Beg all you want, I said no. I don’t want to go to another bar when we already have one we like.”
“Um, no, we don’t. We got banned, remember?”
Toby sighs again, glaring at his phone. Yes, he does remember. In his opinion, the idiot deserved the drink Lily threw over him for insisting on going home together, even after Toby had to step in and pretend to be her boyfriend. Which he has to do far too fucking often.
“Fine. But if this one doesn’t work out, I demand a break. I want to spend time with you, but I can’t handle trying to find a new place that isn’t slightly too sticky to be clean.”
“Hell yeah! Okay, I’ll see you at six, honey-bun.”
“Did you hear me? This is the last one, Lil,” he tries to argue, only to be met with laughter. Holding back a third sigh in less than sixty seconds, he continues, “See you soon, dearest.”
The stupid pet name—and their entire stupid arrangement—is part of an ongoing joke they have, the one where they’re together for the sake of annoying clingy strangers in public and keeping Toby’s parent’s off his back. A joke that’s only funny to them because hell will freeze over before one of them catches feelings for the other, especially considering they’re now ten years deep into being best friends—six months of which included actually trying to date and failing miserably.
Toby considers those months the most awkward of his life and he’d like to forget them forever. Not that Lily isn’t pretty, she is. Her eyes are that exact shade of brown that’s slightly too orange to be boring and look like amber gems in the sun, something he is hypnotised by whenever the light hits them the right way. But, every time he remembers their singular attempt at kissing, he needs to rinse his mouth out. He loves her, really, he does. He just doesn’t love her like that.
He’s not sure he could love anyone enough to want to stick his tongue in their mouth, actually.
But ten years of friendship means Lily gets to call him up every Friday, knowing it’s one of the few days he has free, and demand they go ‘out on the town’. Because ten years means even when Toby groans and sighs, he’ll never really say no to a chance to spend time with his favourite person.
With a final sigh, Toby starts to get dressed in ‘out on the town’ worthy attire, already dreading the idea of a new bar with new idiots. It’s going to be a long night.
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Razzles—the new bar in question—is busy when Toby gets there, a pleasant hum filling his ears as he steps inside. It’s not overwhelming yet, but he’s not sure if he wants to know how full the place will be later in the evening. These kinds of bars with their moody lighting and plush, leather booths tend to thrive as the night goes on—from Toby’s experience—and he almost hates that he wishes the bar were less successful so he could enjoy the warm atmosphere more.
His worries are interrupted when he sees the familiar smile of his best friend across the room.
“Tobes, hey! Come over here,” Lily waves brightly from her seat at the near-empty counter. It’s almost impressive how she manages to steal the limelight in such a packed place, yet her tightly curled hair bouncing with every movement and radiant grin allows her to do so easily.
“We’re sitting here?” Toby frowns down at the empty space next to her. The deep red leather is worn at the edges, but clean. Cared for, Toby would assume.
“Of course,” she sings, letting the final syllable drag for so long, Toby can count how many drinks she’s had in each second that passes. “I’ve been making friends with the hottie bartender for the past few weeks, after all.”
“You didn’t mention you’d already been here…”
Chewing on his cheek, Toby glances around once more. It’s clear whoever decorated likes the colour red, from the crimson napkins to the bare brick walls. The bar takes up most of one wall with cherry-tinted countertops, a singular dark door the only break from the colour before back to back booths line the next wall. Red leather, yellow leather, echoes in Toby’s mind like an awful little mantra he’s forced to shake out of his head as he slides into his seat.
“Did I forget to tell you that part? Hehe, my bad,” Lily chuckles, not a hint of guilt in her voice. “Anyways, let me get you a drink!”
With a grumble about his best friend being a liar, Toby relents. In the booths behind them, groups are talking happily amongst themselves and the few people sitting at the bar seem to be quietly enjoying their drinks. It’s not the worst place to sit, if he’s honest, but he can keep that to himself. There’s more important things to ask about, like the supposed ‘hottie’ Lily has been getting to know.
“Are we here so you can pick up whoever the bartender is?”
“No, he is unfortunately not interested in me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the eye candy.”
“Okay, creep. Does he know you’re ogling him?” Toby balks, staring at his friend in horror. “Seriously, Lily, if you’ve brought me here so you can fawn over a stranger who’s just trying to work, I will never forgive you.”
“Why don’t you ask him if he’s okay with it before you get all judgemental?” she laughs in response, flirtatiously wiggling her fingers in the direction of the approaching footsteps over Toby’s shoulder.
When he turns to see whoever the ‘hottie’ is, his eyes bulge at the broad, muscular chest taking up most of his sight, his gaze slowly lifting to an undeniably pretty face. Not that Toby thinks he’s pretty, but because he’s a lot prettier than he is hot—even with a chest so broad, it stretches the fabric of his plain, black tee more than anyone’s should. Bright, blue eyes find Lily’s as Pretty Boy—because that’s the only name Toby’s brain can conjure up, not because he’s that pretty—’s lips spread into a crooked grin, freckled cheeks crinkling around it. The expression is endearing, but why is Toby’s chest tightening without his permission? What happened to being his usual anxious mess and not whatever-the-fuck is going on with his body right now?
“You ready to order now?” The man’s voice is soft, yet deep. Comforting, if Toby had to label it.
Which he doesn’t. Because that’s weird and Lily is the creep here, not him.
“It depends on whether you’ve got any specials for me today or not,” the creep in question drawls, twirling a finger in the air.
“I can ask the boss if you want. I’m too tired to come up with anything new for you today,” Pretty Boy responds, batting the offending finger out of his personal space.
“What’s been keeping you up? Can’t stop thinking about me?”
Pretty Boy laughs, shaking his head, letting a strand of long, dark hair fall from his half-arsed bun and revealing the bright red streaks that litter the ends of it. Toby’s so distracted by it—wanting to know what his hair looks like when it’s not bundled up—that he doesn’t registers the conversation happening around him. Seriously, why dye your hair such a flamboyant colour if you’re going to hide it? Is it on purpose? Did he pick that colour to match the stupid theme of his workplace?
“In a universe where I like women, maybe,” Toby hears slipping from Pretty Boy’s mouth, yet he’s not paying enough attention, words entering one ear and flying out the other.
“That reminds me, what do you want to drink, Tobes?”
“Hm?” Toby sits up, barely catching his own name in time to react. Something to do with women? he thinks as he tries to recall what was said before Lily asked him for his order. “Oh, uh, a lemonade?”
When his eyes drift from Lily’s suspicious smirk, he finds Pretty Boy staring at him, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked. Somehow his freckles seem to stand out even more like this—like a constellation. Toby shakes that thought away, frowning at Pretty Boy’s flustered face.
“Wait— You— This is your friend?” The man’s voice sounds strained as he squeaks the words out. Ignoring that, Toby focuses on his words, because what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“Yes. Toby, meet Kai. Kai, this is Toby,” she points between them before not-so-subtly leaning over the counter. With some strain, Toby manages to hear her whisper: “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier.”
Pretty Boy—Kai, Toby corrects himself—chokes out a noise before he covers his mouth with the back of his hand. It’s safe to say Toby is thoroughly fucking confused. Why is he so nervous? Why was he looking over here? What is going on?
“Fucking hell, okay, so one lemonade and one whatever-Rhys-says-is-the-special?”
“Sounds good to me,” Lily singsongs, far too happy for Toby’s liking. She’s scheming something, she has to be, it’s the only reason for her to be arguably giddy about the miniscule interaction she’s witnessed.
With a final glance at Toby that leaves him squinting in confusion, Kai gets to work making their drinks, leaving Toby to question the menace beside him. “What was that? Who’s Rhys?”
“Rhys is the boss, he owns Razzles,” she answers simply. The urge to shake her just a little is growing by the second.
“Okay, and the first question?”
“Nothing you need to worry that perfectly styled head of hair of yours about.”
“Lil,” Toby warns with a glare. Laughing, Lily easily waves a colourfully painted hand at him as if that’s any sort of answer. It is not, of course. “Why are you keeping something from me?”
“Uh, really? Don’t guilt trip me!” she whines, gloss-covered lips puffing out into a pout that has long lost its effect on the man on the receiving end of it.
“I’m not trying to guilt trip you?” Toby blinks. Maybe he’s not being fair, maybe he’s assuming the worst, yet knowing his behaviour is too much doesn’t loosen the slowly tightening grip around his lungs at the idea of Lily hiding something from him. Especially when she’s doing it right in front of him. “I just— Can you tell me what you’re doing? I don’t understand and I don’t like feeling like…”
Like what, Toby? his mind taunts. There isn’t a word to describe the way he’s feeling right now, nor the way he’s felt since the moment he sat down. It’s too much all of a sudden, too many things out of line, too many unorganised thoughts banging around in his head, too much—
“Can’t I want to introduce you to someone nice without it being manipulative?” Lily smiles sadly.
Something slices through Toby’s chest. Okay, so he’s a bad friend who assumed the worst. If she’s really trying to expand Toby’s social circle, then he’s the arse, but…
That’s really not what it seems like. Yes, she finds Kai hot and they obviously have some sort of jokey-flirty-thing going on—one of the many reasons Toby is feeling so unsettled—and yet the secrecy around Kai and the bar as a whole is what’s stopping Toby from fully believing that. He’ll happily eat his words—and take all of his worries home until they eat away at him enough that he’s forced to move past them—if he’s wrong. He hopes he’s wrong. Cazzo, why do I feel like this?
“Do you promise that’s all this is?”
Lily’s expression drops, mouth opening to reply when two glasses land loudly on the counter next to them. If he wasn’t so out of it, Toby would like to believe he wouldn’t have jumped so much as the noise, nearly falling off the plush leather beneath him, but he doubts that’s the case.
“Don’t ask me what’s in it, I didn’t ask,” Kai explains with a tired huff.
“As long as it’s delicious, I don’t care,” Lily forces a laugh, nerves radiating from the noise as she grabs for the honey-coloured drink and takes a long sip. Warning sirens begin to blare inside Toby’s head at the reaction, wanting nothing more than to prod her for an answer. Is that all this was? Is it something else? Tell me, tell me, please, tell me I’m overreacting— “As I thought, it’s perfect!”
“I’ll let Rhys know,” the bartender hums, fumbling with a screen on the other side of the bar. A cash register, Toby assumes, needing to focus on anything but the incessant thoughts chanting in his head. Focus on Kai pressing the screen, pull out his wallet, go through the motions until it’s a little easier to do so. “Do you want me to open a tab for you or are you going to pay per drink?”
“Per drink,” Toby answers for them both, playing with the notes lining his wallet, waiting for a total, anything but thinking. He’s not sure how long he’s got left in him before he needs to leave, this heavy feeling laying in the pit of his stomach at doubting his friend’s intentions weighing him down like an anchor he’s desperate to cut himself off from.
“Fuck, wait,” Kai curses, stepping away once more, leaving Toby’s eyes to trail after him as he ducks into an open doorway. Great, now Toby has no distractions and has to ask Lily— and nope, Pretty Boy is back before he can think of how to word his question again. “Sorry, needed to know what the mystery drink over there costs.”
“Right…” Toby chews on his lip in confusion. Back to letting the stranger with the freckles keep his mind busy, then…
Kai hasn’t gotten any less flustered since the moment his cheeks tinted pink when their eyes first met. Even his head stays down, gaze focused entirely on the screen in a way that looks too forced for someone who does this regularly. Maybe it’s Toby’s face—he’s always been told he’s off-putting with his uncontrollably expressive features and lack of patience for small talk—so that could be the problem? If Lily really thinks Kai and himself would get on, he should at least try to make a better first impression, he should steel his expression into something softer like he does whenever his younger sister starts to cry. Yes, that’s what he should do. Be softer. Nicer. Try. Believe in his best friend’s intentions, because if he doesn’t, he might combust.
That’s why he decides to blurt out—in a voice far too soft for the room they’re in—“Is all of your hair dyed or just the front part?”
“What?” Kai freezes, head lifting and staring at Toby as if he were a deer and Toby were oncoming headlights. Was that not the right thing to say? Is asking about hair dye not small-talky enough? “Me?”
“Who…else…would I be asking?” Toby can’t help but frown, blinking at the question. Stop being like that, his mind scolds him, wiping it off his face with a shake of his head.
“Hah— um, right, uh— it’s all dyed,” Pretty Boy flinches, cheeks deepening with each stumbling word. It’s impressive that despite the décor, the brightest red in the room lies on the man’s face. “I can show you?”
Despite asking, he doesn’t wait for an answer. Lifting a hand to his bun, Kai pulls his hair free, rushing to style it with his fingers before letting it fall around his face. The long locks hang all the way to his chest, even more crimson streaks scattered throughout, blending amongst the black. It’s disarming how Kai’s entire being contradicts himself, having such a muscular build with hair so striking and a face that’s features are too soft. Somehow it works. It works so much Toby is struggling to think. Cazzo, why is his heart racing? Because Kai is somehow more pretty with his hair down? Why should he care, he’s never cared about how attractive someone is before now! Maybe it’s because Toby asked, maybe it’s because seeing Kai’s hair fully answered a question like a missing puzzle piece that demanded to be slotted into place, maybe it’s because—
It’s because Lily wants you to be friends with him, he reasons. That doesn’t make complete sense but it settles the spike of anxiety clogging his windpipe enough to cling onto it for dear life.
“Can I put my hair back up now?” Kai wrinkles his nose, folding his arms over his chest. Is he self conscious? No, that doesn’t make sense. He obviously goes to the gym and his hair is dyed, it doesn’t make sense for him to not want people to look at him. Then why is he—
“Can’t you keep it down? You look good,” Lily helpfully intervenes, talking around her straw.
With a roll of his eyes, Kai drops his arms, returning to the register. “I promise you there are several people in this bar that would appreciate that compliment more than me,” he smiles, before reciting the total for their drinks.
“Maybe I want to platonically tell you how beautiful you are,” Lily sighs dramatically, a hand to her chest. Is that allowed? Is Toby allowed to platonically tell Kai he’s pretty? Sure, he’s told Lily she’s pretty enough times. Is it okay to tell a stranger that he’s an enigma that is quickly taking up too much space in Toby’s already overworked brain?
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Kai mumbles as he accepts the note Toby hands him, fingers skating across Toby’s wrist. Shivers erupt under the man’s touch, which Toby ignores in favour of accepting the change he’s given. He’s not used to being touched, that’s all. Nothing strange about feeling the ghost of a someone else’s fingers on your skin. Nothing at all. He’s overthinking, he always is. Nothing. Is. Wrong.
“Ya wanna get back to work or do I need’ta dock yer pay?” a new voice calls out, making Kai—and Toby, if he’s honest with himself—jump. A man steps out from the open doorway behind the counter carrying a crate of glasses, if the clinking is anything to go by. He’s entirely clad in black, similar to Kai. Some sort of uniform, probably, considering the matching long sleeves and jeans, even if there are no logos in sight.
“Sorry, boss,” Kai mumbles, stepping away from the bar. He doesn’t appear to be in any rush to actually leave, even when the ‘boss’—Rhys?—slams the crate down next to him.
“If yer gonna chat, at least unpack this lot,” the man sighs, leaving before Kai can reply.
“Is he always busy or does he hate being out here with us?” Lily ponders, watching Rhys’ retreating form.
“He’ll come out if it gets busy.”
Glasses start to be placed on shelves out of Toby’s view as he stares at Kai in shock. As they’ve been talking, voices have been slowly growing in volume; seats have been taken at what was once their nice, quiet corner of the room; the door has been opening and shutting more than Toby’s mouth has. “This isn’t busy?”
A loud laugh has Toby’s face heating, watching Kai glance up from where he’s squatting. “You have no idea. Wait ‘til ten p.m. then tell me what you think busy is.”
“I have to leave very suddenly,” Toby pretends to grab for his things, earning another chuckle. It makes him feel warm in other places, somewhere in his chest. He wants to hear it again. He doesn’t know why, he just does.
The three of them continue like that. Chatting whenever Kai isn’t making a drink for someone else, sneaking glances whenever he is. Lily abandons Toby at some point to flirt with a blonde girl who doesn’t seem to have caught on to said flirting, and Toby doesn’t quite mind. Not when Kai keeps his lemonade topped up or when he makes sure to do as many tricks as he can with each drink he pours, but only when he knows Toby is watching. Which he can’t help but do regardless of if the man is showing off or not. Because nothing is wrong and his mind is still a little bit on fire, but Kai is pretty and that’s okay. Because Kai is allowed to be pretty and apparently Toby is allowed to think that, maybe even say that, if they become friends.
It’s weird. Kai is strange. Toby thinks he likes it.
Maybe this bar isn’t so bad after all.
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