“This place was supposedly created to resemble the Orient Express.” You turn your head to the sound of husky chocolate. You respond immediately to his friendly expression, smiling at him. 

“Well hello to you too, Anti-Umbrella Man.” You greet, earning a flash of pearl framed in pale ruby. 

“Baekhyun, call me Baekhyun.” Anti-Umbrella Man responds, sitting down four seats from you. He runs a gloved hand through his hair, and you notice his hat didn’t join him tonight. The sparkle in his eye wills you to respond with your own name, and you wonder why it seemed like you were sharing a dear secret. 

“So, the Orient Express?” You ask as he orders his usual bourbon neat. 

“Mhmm, the owner apparently rode it after dreaming of it for years and he was so taken with it that he designed this place to resemble it.” 

“Hm.” You hum, looking around the place through a new lens. You notice the booths, the slightly curved edges of the chevron-wood ceiling. You could see it, the little details thrown in that suggested it came straight out of an opulent train car. It was only when you knew, though, and never once had that truth been there till Baekhyun presented it to you. “It’s beautiful.” 

Baekhyun swallows his sip of bourbon, the signature flash of his tongue following. He wore a white dress shirt again, black tie loosened on his chest. He had apparently left his coat with the front host again, but as your eyes traveled down his lithe body, you noticed that the tops of his thighs were a darker shade than the rest of his charcoal trousers. You think either Baekhyun didn’t mind soaking his expensive-looking clothing, or he really had something against umbrellas, cars, and public transportation. As your eyes slowly make their way back up, you realize he was watching you from the corner of his eye, ever so slightly raising his eyebrow and the corner of his lips. You blush, embarrassed to be caught gawking. Baekhyun lets out a silent chuckle, taking another sip, letting you abashedly turn away to stare at the less interesting sparkles of your scotch. Your cheeks burn, and your chest constricts. Gosh, why were you staring so much at him?

You couldn’t bear to start another conversation with the man, and before you could ever think to, a couple men walked into the bar, taking seats between the two of you. For some odd reason, your heart sank at the rowdy wall so rudely placed between you and the man that embodied wood and velvet warmth. You caught glimpses through the two men of Baekhyun, expecting him to strike up a conversation as he did with you. To your surprise though, he quietly sipped his whiskey, a tired look more apparent in his dark eyes. 

The silence that wrapped around you in soft piano tones and dark wood let you reflect on yourself. Your eyes wandered to Edgar, imagining him looking over the bar and its patrons that come and go. In a way, you felt like Edgar, observing, immobile, removed. In a small way, you felt stale– stagnating your best years away, left alone on the shelf whilst people came and went. In a way, you didn’t mind it– it let you watch life unfettered by its complicated twists and turns required to experience it, allowing you to study, to ruminate in depth as you witnessed the little cues, the little notes that would otherwise be gleaned over. 

But it left you utterly lonely. Your job didn’t require you to interact with very many people– you were usually holed up in an office, either in front of a blackboard or typing away on your computer. The other people in your department were introverts, like you, and your boss had long since abandoned the notion of forcing social interaction with the exception of work related events. Aside from the occasional jaunts prompted by one of your very few friends, you worked, went home, shopped for groceries, and worked again. 

This place was the exception, the new addition to your routine on weekends that had honestly surprised you. It really came from nowhere, that urge to step through the quaint entrance that rainy night. A small tug from your dormant heart had woken you from your unconscious trudge home, and an inexplicable feeling that came over you when your eyes had laid themselves on the inconspicuousness of the place had your feet moving before you could even realize. The front host had taken your coat and bag like a phantom breeze, and the wondrous feeling you had that you entered a new realm got you to sit at the bar. 

Now you were here, a new regular at a little pocket of timeless elegance, striking up conversations with a breathtakingly mysterious man. You didn’t talk about your visits here to anyone besides Gigolo, your mild-mannered cat you had rescued from the middle of a highway five years ago. That was another moment of impulse that had you deviating from your routine. You supposed, with the common trend, that impulsive decisions weren’t such a bad thing, especially when they made you feel like you were truly living, truly present in the world. 

When you get up to leave, a twinge of regret with how your interaction with Baekhyun was cut short pricks at your chest. You had wanted to clear the air, maybe whisper a sorry or even ask if his wet clothing bothered him, but with the men between you two intending to spend the foreseeable future between you two, you feel as if the timing was lost. You leave your hopes down on the counter with your tip, letting the piano’s tumbling notes resonate within your dampened heart as you get up and begin making your way to the door. 

A soft call of your name stops you in your tracks, your breath catching at how velvety your name sounded uttered through plush lips. It was after turning to look at the man who had called you that you realized slender fingers had loosely wrapped themselves around your arm. You feel them slide across your skin a split second as they retreat, and you fight the urge to follow them back to their owner.

Baekhyun gave a soft smile that made his eyes twinkle, and the breath you lost upon realizing who had stopped you failed to return. The music blurs, and the only thing you’re able to focus on is Baekhyun. 

“Have you called a taxi?” His voice is soft, as if wanting to keep this benign question private. You can only nod in response. “Good, it’s raining cats and dogs out there again.” 

You release the breath you managed to inhale with relief, a smile of your own joining his. “I can tell.” 

Baekhyun chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum with life. “Until next time.”