01. Highball [Season 1]
Phoenix RisingSeason 1
Chapter 1: Highball
Rain descended upon Seoul like a wet, woolen shawl, clinging uncomfortably to autumn chilled skin. Like a shadow, the cloying wetness followed partygoers and patrons of nightlife down puddled broken streets, under fizzing neon signs that lit the night in lieu of streetlamps. Through glass doors, a gust of cold wind blew a small group of giggling stiletto-heeled women off the street and into the hazy, luxurious clamor of a sleek bar on a slanted side-street in Hongdae.
Byun Baekhyun shivered as the damp chill swept in on the women's coats and hair. As the chatty group of three squeezed themselves around the lone empty bar stool beside him, he avoided making eye contact. Palming his glass, he threw back what was left in it and let it drop to the smooth lacquered surface of the bar with a click.
"Chogiyo--" he called out unsteadily, lifting a hand to get the bartender's attention. At some point during his last drink there'd been a shift change. Instead of a petite buxom redhead, a tall, slim youth in a pinstriped fedora greeted him, smiling broadly. "Another of the same," Baekhyun croaked and leaned heavily into his palm, pushing the empty glass away with a fingertip.
"Coming right up." The bartender's voice was several shades deeper than his face would suggest. Baekhyun found himself lifting tired eyes to watch the man fill his order - the fourth of the night. Long, capable hands expertly poured the contents into a shaker and clapped a smaller tumbler on top to bring the mixture to a blended froth. Ice and liquor sloshed neatly into a fresh glass, and slid across the countertop on a crisp cocktail napkin.
"Thanks," Baekhyun muttered, helping himself readily to a cool sip. At the wrong end of a long day, the mixed drinks were easy going down, though this bar poured them stronger than most. Baekhyun had always wondered why it was that the higher the price paid, the smaller and less potent the drink. It set this particular bar apart, for which he was immensely grateful after a long day and an equally long night. The crash of cymbals and thumping drums, the screaming and atonal cacophony that some people tried to pass off as music still rang in his ears, along with strobes of flashing lights and noisy, pulsing crowds. Whiny, trite vocals had been the slimy cherry atop a rotten sundae. Why was the company convinced there was a future in these acts performing in the pits of despair? Baekhyun rested his head in his hands and willed the images away.
Reaching for his drink, he nursed it in earnest, the sharpness of the liquor since dulled on his tongue. It gave way to the delightful cocktail of tangy and bitter flavors blended with it - or so Baekhyun told himself as one drink slid down his throat, followed shortly after by another.
When the bartender returned a third time, after serving the boisterous trio nearby who'd coerced him to take a shot with them, his eyes went immediately to Baekhyun's empty glass. He glanced up at the businessman with a friendly smile and chuckled. "You're putting those away fast." His voice slipped just under the cacophony of chatter and acid jazz. He leaned over the low inner counter to rest crossed forearms on the bar. His white button-down shirt was cuffed below the elbows, and nipped narrowly through the torso by a fitted black vest. Baekhyun tugged his eyes up from that lean waist.
"Why not do shots if you're going for speed?" the bartender asked, lifting a hand to adjust his hat. A few locks of deep chestnut fringe stuck out under the brim, curling in soft around his face.
"Mixed drinks make me feel less like an alcoholic," Baekhyun explained wryly, dropping his chin into his hand. He huffed a sigh that blew his hair off his forehead before it settled again. He lifted his eyes to meet the bartender's. "But you're right," he said and sat up, slapping both hands flat on the bar. "This is inefficient."
The bartender laughed. It was a warm, throaty sound. "You look like you think about efficiency all day long," he angled a nod at Baekhyun's suit jacket and crisp shirt - which wasn't quite so crisp anymore, the top button undone, collar popped and askew.
"Don't you know it," Baekhyun grumbled. "Alright, shots. You'll take one with me," he said and tipped his chin toward the register, the shelves of liquor, or something in that general direction. His tab, alcohol, now. The bartender seemed sharp enough to put it together, certainly sharper than Baekhyun felt at that moment. "Your choice," Baekhyun added with a vague flourish of delicate fingers.
"If you insist," the bartender grinned, and pushed himself off the bar to pull a dark bottle off the wall. Two shot glasses appeared before Baekhyun, and dark amber swirled to the brim of one then the next.
Steadying himself with one elbow on the bar, Baekhyun reached forward to take a glass. "Cheers," he said, clinking it against the bartender's, as they both upended their shots. Cringing at the acrid burn that went up the back of his nose, Baekhyun grimaced and coughed. "Ugh. That's why I don't do shots," he groaned and chased the whiskey with the glass of water that stood neglected nearby, dripping condensation in a soft ring onto a cocktail napkin.
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