As cliché as it might sound, Jackson fell for Mark at the first sight. In one windy night of July, as he walked home crossing a deserted alley in his neighborhood, he saw someone being surrounded by what looked like three drunken hoodlums. He only saw him from the back, so he couldn’t see his face. The stranger was about the same height as Jackson, but in contrast to his muscular build, the boy was so thin. He looked so frail and vulnerable that Jackson felt the strong urge to help and protect him.

However, it seemed like help wasn’t needed, since the moment Jackson was about to run there, he saw the boy flew and kick the man in front of him, on his chest. The man fell hard on his back, grunting in pain. Jackson was in a daze as he watched the stranger flew around, kicking and hitting here and there, until all the scoundrels who were about two times his size sprawled groaning on the ground. It was so cool how so much strength could come out of that thin body. Even Jackson himself wasn’t sure if he could beat up three hoodlums by himself unscathed.

The boy turned around, and the amazement turned into something else. Something that started to stir in his heart, as he just saw the most beautiful face he had ever seen. The stranger’s face was small and pretty, with fair, pale skin, a perfectly sloped nose, the plump, natural red lips, and big, dark beaded eyes. But there was still something igneous about that angelic face that made him looked tough despite his prettiness. Maybe it was the way moonlight fell on his face that sharpened his features and made his face gleamed, radiating the glow at the same time. Maybe it was the way his rosy lips curved into a smug smirk. Or maybe it was his sharp gaze, the fire in it that could burn anyone if he wanted it to. The three hooligans had met that fate because they were too drunk to see it. And Jackson was a captive to that fire from the moment on.

Jackson found himself unable to move, stricken by the other boy. So he just watched as the stranger picked up his bag that was dropped during the fight, and left. He could only move a few minutes after the boy already disappeared from his sight. He went to bed that night, unable to fall into slumber. His mind was filled by the gorgeous stranger. The boy was truly a beauty. Not only his visage, but also his gaze, the way he moved his slender body, the strength emanated from that body, the fiery aura he exuded while still looking like an angel, everything about him was beauty. Maybe he was truly the angel of death that would be the death of him, since he was enthralled by that very angel. The angel that would never grace himself with his presence again.

He felt dejected and hopeless. He tried to forget his moonlight angel ━Jaebum cringed on the nickname when he heard it━ but he couldn’t. Whatever he did, wherever he was, that bewitching face would always popped up in his mind. Jackson was charmed, smitten by the boy, like he was under a spell that couldn’t be broken. He was so depressed, which was kind of rare with his cheerful personality. He felt hollow, like everything inside him had been away by the angel. He just moped around for two weeks until Jaebum couldn’t take it anymore and dragged him to a new bar that had just opened a short while ago. Actually he just wanted to stay holed up in his room with his imaginary form of his beautiful stranger, but when they entered the bar, he thanked God for having such a stubborn best friend. Because behind the bar, stood the real form of the person that had been persistently stayed in his head since that fateful night, skillfully mixing a cocktail with the shaker in his hands with a polite yet confident smile.

Because there stood his moonlight angel, still as stunning as when he saw him the first time it stole his breath away.

--

Sometimes, Jackson would stay at the bar past the closing time. He didn’t have to be afraid of putting Mark in trouble with his boss, since Mark had once told him the boss and owner of this bar was his older brother. He would keep talking or just gazed at Mark, letting comfortable silence enveloped them as the older cleaned his tools. At first he was scared he would annoy him, but Mark never seemed upset or told him to leave. He looked fine with it, he didn’t even talk to him formally anymore beside business hours.

Maybe it was just him, but Mark seemed to talk, smile, and laugh more when he was with Jackson than other customers who had attempted to talk to him. With other customers, everything was done politely, his rare responses, his courteous smile, his small laugh, very business-like. However when he was with him, Mark didn’t only smile at him. He smirked, he grinned, and laughed loudly without any restraint. He even showed his mischievous side to him. It made Jackson felt a little bit more special than others, and he fell even deeper when he thought he had reached the bottom end.

Mark was so quiet around people, he barely talked. It took long for Jackson to make the older warmed up until being how he was today, and Jackson wanted to applaud himself for his effort. He even managed to learn some private information about Mark, like he was actually an American, coming from Los Angeles. He followed his oldest brother who taught him the art of Mixology to Korea, and worked here while finishing his study. He learned martial art since he was eight because he got bullied a lot thanks to his kinda feminine features and small frame. He hated to be weak and vulnerable, he wanted to defend himself, so he asked his parents to submit him to a dojo. It was admirable, and Jackson came to adore the boy even more.

And tonight, just like many other night, he stayed past closing time when Mark suddenly asked, “Do you want to try mixing a simple drink?”

It caught him by surprise, but it quickly turned into interest and excitement. He had always been curious, but his hands was never good for detailed work like that. However the older had offered to teach him, and he would never miss this chance. So he stood up from his chair, bowed his head and said, “Please take care of me, Master,” bringing laugh to the other boy.

“What do you want to try? How about French Martini, the drink you ordered the first time you’re here? It’s so easy.”

“Okay.”

It was the first time Jackson stood so close to Mark. Usually there would always be a bar counter separating them, yet now they were side by side behind it. He couldn’t help his heart beating so fast, pumping rush of blood to his cheeks. He tried to calm himself while the older went to bring the needed ingredients, which seemed to be in vain seeing how his hand was slightly shaky while holding the jigger, making the older laugh again.

“Why are you so nervous? Are you that excited?”

Well, he was, but the reason for why he was nervous definitely wasn’t it. He obviously couldn’t say ‘it’s because of you, Mark’ , so he just nodded.

Mark told him the measurement of the ingredients while Jackson measured it with the jigger carefully, trying to be as precise as possible. He poured the ingredients into the shaker after each measurement, and shook it. He didn’t know how much strength he had to put on shaking it, so he just shook it hard before pouring it into a glass through the strain. He was happy, excited, and anxious as how the first drink he mixed would taste like as Mark took a sip.

“Hmm… not bad,” Mark commented, giving it to Jackson to taste it himself.

“Different from yours, though. The one you made tastes better,” Jackson said, kinda disappointed. Mark patted his back and gave him encouraging smile. “It’s your first time, so it’s understandable. Don’t be disheartened.”

What Mark didn’t know was he didn’t even think about his disappointment anymore since electric pulse had spreaded all over his body from where the other’s warm hand touch him through his clothes. And that it took his all for Jackson to hold himself from kissing the breathtaking smile away from those red lips.

“Would you teach me again sometime?”

“Of course! For free, even. Ain’t I generous?”

“You’re the most generous person I’ve ever met, Mark! I really love you!”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Mark said with a grin.

No, you don’t.

--

As his love for Mark deepened, Jackson was getting frustrated day by day. Mark was so oblivious to his obvious advance. His approaches was not subtle by any means. He didn’t know if it because Mark was too dense to get it, or he just pretended not to see it to keep their relationship from going further. But the older often gave him vague signs that led him on, that made him hard to give the boy up even when he knew those signs might held no meanings. One word, one action from Mark could stir him so much it drove him crazy, like now.

“Why do you always wear a snapback?” Mark asked curiously while putting his tools on their place after finished cleaning them.

“My head’s kinda big, so I covered it up with snapbacks. And it had become a habit now.”

“Can I try it? Your snapback?”

That question caught him by surprise. Why did Mark want to try wearing his snapback? It would obviously be too big for his small head, showing just how big Jackson’s head was. That was why he hesitated to lend it, but the hopeful look on that angelic face made him took it off of his head, his brunette hair fell limply on his eyes. He brushed it back sheepishly as he gave the snapback to Mark. That face would really be the death of him someday.

He already knew that Mark head was small. However, he never expected it to be so small that his snapback even covered about half of the older’s ears. Jackson found it unbelievable and adorable at the same time, even more so with the pout that was formed by his plump lips. Even the way his chestnut hair sticking out here and there in disarray when he pulled the snapback off irritatedly, it was endearing. But he kind of puzzled when Mark looked at him and smile, saying, “It’s not that bad.”

“Huh? Yeah, you still look good with that snapback.” Of course he’d look good in anything. He’s an angel, Jackson thought.

“Not me, you. I think you look better without the snapback. I can’t see your face clearly when you wear it, even more so with the dim light of the bar, but now that I see it, you’re rather good-looking, Jackson,” Mark chuckled while stain of red started spreading on his cheeks to his ear, his heart fluttered. “It’s a pity you want it hidden,” the older said, ruffling his hair. And he liked the feeling of that gentle hand on his hair.

So from then on his snapbacks never saw the light of day again, locked in the dark shelf of his closet.

--

Mark put a glass of cocktail on the counter in front of Jackson. As always, Jackson let the older boy gave him whatever he wanted to make, but since they became close, Mark would only made him this one drink. The drink was translucent with two twirls of orange zest, served inside a high-stemmed glass with triangular bowl. When he made it, he would flamed the zest before putting it in. And everytime he did, the fire in his eyes flared brighter than ever, radiating the flame.

Jackson never knew what the drink was called. He had tried to ask Mark, but the older just smiled mysteriously without telling him. He kept pushing Mark to tell him the answer, but the older never budged until he finally gave up and just drank it.

In business hours he couldn’t keep Mark by himself, since the other had to talk and serve drinks for other customers, so he had to be satisfied by talking bit by bit in between his interactions with other customers and his work while patiently waiting for closing time to talk to his heart's content. He could’ve come near the closing time, but he liked seeing Mark doing his job. He could see the older’s eyes beamed with passion whenever he mixed drinks, his contentment whenever customers drank the drinks he made with satisfaction. And Jackson would just get enchanted by the older boy even more.

However, today Mark was different. He looked kind of distracted when he cleaned his tools after the closing time. He seemed anxious about something, and there was some tension in the silence that was never there before, it was suffocating. So Jackson asked the older boy, “Are you okay?”

Mark was startled, but he gave him a smile and say, “I'm okay, don’t worry.” The smile didn’t reach his eyes, though. Jackson didn’t know what to say anymore, so he stay quiet. He saw the other bit his lower lip, and said, “You won’t find me here anymore starting the day after tomorrow.”

The news hit Jackson like a stoned wall had crumbled and fell all over him. He was paralyzed. It took his all just to say a word, “Why?”

“I have to go back to America. I’ve planned it for a while now, actually.” Mark said smiling again, a little bit wider than before, “Don’t worry, I’m sure my replacement would be as good as me, maybe even better.”

It cut a wound to his heart. It was painful. Jackson felt so dejected that Mark didn’t even told him of his decision when he made it, and only said it now. But he didn’t have the right to get angry, since he was nobody for the older boy. They couldn’t even be considered friends. Jackson was just a customer that was a little bit more close to Mark than other customers. So Jackson bit back his tears and forced a smile, “Your cocktail would still be the best. I’ll miss you, Mark.”

Mark laughed, the laugh he tried to record it precisely in his mind since it might be the last laugh Jackson would ever heard from his angel, and captured how his lips curved into a beautiful smile in details with his eyes as he said, “Thank you.”

I did some research since I didn't know anything about Mixology, cocktail, basically everything. The drink Mark taught Jackson to make was from here. Thanks for reading :))