Woohyun sat at the bar, his eyes trained on every person that was entering the room and the very few that were leaving. When he had first entered the club, he had combed every inch of the crowded place for signs of the narrow eyes he favored. But after a 30 minutes search, he had to conclude that the one he had come chasing after was not here yet.

So he had positioned himself at an advantageous place at the bar from where he could keep almost the entirety of the room under his glances, and also ensure no one would enter or leave the room without being under his scrutiny.

I’m not taking any chances.

He checked his watch. Two hours had passed since he had started his vigilance and yet there was no sign of the one person he was trying to find.

That’s odd, this is his favorite bar. Of all the places, he’s likely to be here the most.

As a jazz tune started playing, a haggard-looking man flopped down on the seat beside him. Woohyun had seen him enter a few moments ago – he was good looking probably but with the bags under his eyes, his disheveled hair and parched lips, he looked only a little better than a vagabond. But he had stopped paying him attention, even though he felt  a little sorry for him for looking so beat-up.

He needs a drink. Badly.

Apparently, the man had similar thoughts as he started slapping his pants, apparently searching for his wallet. The bar had a strict pay-first policy, to ensure not having to deal with overly drunk customers.

The man beside Woohyun cursed, causing him to look towards him.

“I forgot my wallet.” The man was frowning at the bartender, who didn’t look very interested in his predicament. The creases between the man’s eyebrows made him look even more pitiable. “Stupid, idiot, fool…”

Woohyun was sympathetic by nature and seeing this man beside him, who definitely needed a getaway, he couldn’t help but avert his eyes from the room and say to him, as politely as possible, “Can I buy you a drink?” He bit his tongue the next moment, as the man stared at him.

Stupid me, trying to talk in Korean at a Japanese bar.

“Sorry,” he said in Japanese but the man had stopped staring at him with wide eyes and instead, he now smiled.

“Hello. That would be very much appreciated, I will of course pay you back,” he said in perfect Korean.

“Oh,” Woohyun switched back to Korean, hearing the man speak his mother tongue so fluently. “I didn’t realize you were -”

“Yeah,” the man nodded slowly. He didn’t look very interested in talking so Woohyun called the bartender and gestured to the man to order. He himself ordered a beer; he couldn’t afford to be careless tonight.

“I’m Nam Woohyun,” he said, as he paid the bartender.

“Kim Myungsoo.” The man gratefully reached out for his drink, thanking Woohyun briefly again. He drained it in one gulp.

Wow, he must have had a rough day.

Woohyun returned to searching through the crowd, a stack of cash on the table which he had invited Myungsoo to use. He was using the money well, ordering drinks and draining them, while Woohyun fumbled with his untouched drink.

“How’s Seoul?”

“Hmm?” Woohyun had not been paying attention to his companion and as he faced him, he saw a startling change in him. His condition seemed to be deteriorating instead of improving, the were drinks not helping. His eyes were red-rimmed and his skin looked even more sagged. “Seoul – yeah, it’s pretty much the same. You lived in Seoul?”

Myungsoo nodded wistfully. Woohyun suddenly felt that Myungsoo wasn’t in Tokyo for a vacation or a job even; Myungsoo was in Tokyo because this city, miles away from Seoul, was his escape. It was a tingling sensation in Woohyun; the same he felt whenever he got close to sad people. It was almost as if he was drawn to tragedy, he could sense it sooner than the others.

“Yes, Seoul. It’s horrible…I detest the city, I lost everything there…” Even though Myungsoo’s speech was slightly slurred, Woohyun had no problem in recognizing the tone – Myungsoo was in agony for sure and this drinking, this lifestyle was to leave behind the painful past he had had in Seoul.

Poor guy, I wonder what happened.

Myungsoo, now drunk from his refills, was much more inclined to speak, especially since Woohyun was ready to listen. Woohyun had encountered this before as well – people seemed to open up to him easily. There had been people in his life - people he had just met in passing, they didn’t even have to be drunk – who had opened up their dark closets to him. And he could get into these stories, make them his own and comfort these people as if he had been there. It was a gift, he liked to believe. So much tragedy didn’t have any negative effect on him; if anything, it seemed to strengthen his positivity.

Myungsoo was no different and the moment he had offered to talk to him, he knew he would get to know his story. He moved his seat a little closer to hear him properly above the din in the bar. Myungsoo’s voice was getting groggier by the minute and Woohyun’s drink was still untouched.

“I lost him there, I loved him. I love him.”

Woohyun’s heart broke in a way. He always had a soft corner for people who suffered in love. Myungsoo looked like love had gripped him like a cancer and away the last of his life from his bones.

Love – so beautiful, so hurtful. I know.

Myungsoo was now crying; silent tears fell from his eyes as he signaled the waiter for another drink. Woohyun wanted to stop him but he didn’t have the heart to.

Drinking to forget…

“He betrayed me you know, he loved me so much and he cheated on me.”

Myungsoo looked into his eyes and he saw pain there, he saw a broken heart, a shattered soul. Instinctively, he reached out and patted him on the back. Myungsoo almost didn’t notice; he continued in that broken voice.

“He was my one and only love. And he betrayed me.”

Woohyun felt something bitter creep up his throat. He sipped a bit of his drink to stop the pain rising sharply in his chest.

No, he would never betray me.

“Mr. Kim, Myungsoo, I think you should stop now,” he said softly, trying to tug the glass out of his hand. But Myungsoo was elsewhere; maybe he was in Seoul, having his heart broken by the scene in front of him.

“I caught them. I was horrible, and then I told him so many bad things. The things I said to him…you know what he did?”

He gave him time to recover from the heaving sobs he had broken down into. He patted him gently on the back, but he wondered if Myungsoo felt anything at the moment apart from the crushing pain.

The more Woohyun heard, the more he felt a paralyzing sensation stifling his bones. He didn’t know why he connected with Myungsoo’s story so much – it wasn’t his story, not even close. And yet, his heart went out to the defeated man in front of him.

A defeated lover.

Woohyun was a cup sharing in Myungsoo’s bottle of misery.