Chapter 2: Closing Time

Long after last call, when the glasses were shelved and the countertops were clean, Chanyeol found himself more restless than tired. He swiped the rag over the bar one last time, though it was already gleaming from a thorough wipe-down, and lobbed the thin cloth into a bucket beneath the sink. After washing his hands, he sealed a measure of cling wrap tightly around the fruit trays and crouched down to stash the colorful garnishes in the small fridge under the bar where they would keep fresh til later in the day. Rising, he quickly glanced across the rows of gleaming bottles, checking that they were all properly stoppered. He punched a few buttons on the register and left it to tally and print the night's receipts.

The bar had emptied but for a few stragglers - a couple at a small table in back were engaged in what seemed like a drunken lovers' spat gone mushy. He returned their card, informing them with a polite bow that the bar was closed. Heavy with drink, the couple stumbled their way out with some coaxing, halfheartedly throwing teary barbs at each other as Chanyeol steadied them when they teetered and declined to mediate when they tried to rope him into the discussion. With a final push out onto the street, he pulled the glass doors shut behind them and turned the lock.

That left the young businessman.

In the hours since he'd passed out, no one had come to claim him, to haul him out on a friendly shoulder. Several times, Chanyeol thought he'd heard his phone vibrating where it was pressed between the young man's body and the bar. It wasn't enough to rouse the man, however, who slept on so soundly that if it weren't for the soft snoring Chanyeol heard when he got close, he would've passed well for dead. 

Chanyeol had no reason to wake the young man, and if he was honest with himself, nor the heart. Their meager conversation had revealed an electric, embittered desperation that clung to the eaves of his mind, turning his gaze towards the sleeping man often throughout the night. Naturally, it didn't hurt that he was attractive, with quite a disarming stare on him - when he was awake - but Chanyeol had written it off. Drunks, leering, and drunken leering were all things he was used to. In his line of work, it was wise not to make anything of it.

Humming softly to himself, Chanyeol slipped into the back room to collect his coat and messenger bag. The manager had left him to close up - which meant he conveniently wasn't there to give Chanyeol the pay he owed him for the last two weeks of work. He shook his head as he switched off the lights in the office. Returning to the main room, he slipped behind the bar and turned off the music, plunging the space into quiet. The sound of tearing paper echoed jarringly as he pulled the closing receipt from the register and slipped it into the drawer before locking it.

Setting his bag down on the bar, he shrugged the khaki trench onto his shoulders and tugged its broad lapels to set the collar against his nape. He glanced down to either side as he fished around in his coat pockets for the ends of the belt. Tying a jaunty knot at his waist, he lifted the leather strap of his bag over his head and settled it across his chest. 

Exhaling a vocal breath, Chanyeol looked askance at the businessman. "Aish," he cursed softly under his breath. "What are we going to do about you." Biting the inside of his lower lip, he vacillated a moment, then stepped closer.

"Ya. Ajusshi." He affected a stern tone. The businessman wasn't old, but he certainly drank like a burnt-out geezer, so the minor insult seemed fair enough in Chanyeol's book. He shook him by the shoulder. The body beneath the thin blazer was hot. An incoherent murmur fell from the man's lips but he didn't so much as crack open an eye, and if anything slumped evermore resolutely against the bar.

"Ya! I need to go home too, you know," Chanyeol protested, and shook him again, this time more vigorously. When there was no response, Chanyeol grumbled and sighed. Carefully so as not to drop the young man off the barstool and onto the floor, he pushed at one shoulder to turn him partway to the side. Feeling his way along the front of his blazer, he came into contact with something hard, and reached inside to fish it out of the inner pocket. His fingers found a phone - and what felt like a money clip. Pulling out both, he pressed a few buttons on the phone, but the gadget was unresponsive. Pronouncing it dead, he turned his attention to the money clip, a svelte gold stirrup design that smacked of designer quality. He turned it around in his hands and found, unsurprisingly, the name Hermes engraved along one smooth edge.

Suits, thought Chanyeol, as he rifled past a wad of 20's and 100's. There were a few business cards in the fold - a single or two, one with a woman's name, which he cast aside, and an excessively colorful card of a Creative Director from KHC Group. Glancing from card to face, Chanyeol frowned. This fellow didn't look like a Kim Heechul to him. Flipping to the next card in the fold, a black pebbled leather-touch cardstock, his fingertips found several edges neatly aligned. Five thick, identical cards, nearly stuck together, were the last in the clip. Pulling them out, Chanyeol's eyes widened as he inhaled sharply. He separated the cards between his fingers - duplicate stamps of gold foil stared up at him, winking in the soft light. 

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