It was a small place where good live music could be found. It boasted chairs and tables where people could sit, eat and chat. There was a smoking area if one was into that kind of thing. It served delicious food and had nice waiters who had smiles prepared for you every time. It was a bar too but it had more of a relaxing and comfortable atmosphere for those who just want to listen to live music.

Misha never came here alone. It was always with her group of friends who favored old school songs sang by artists known to only a few. She never found the need to venture alone in this place because company and music always came together for her.

But tonight, it felt different. Somehow, she ended up in this place, by herself with no clue what really brought her here. She just felt she had to go.

Alone, she asked the server to lead her to the bar. There was no need to own a table by herself and look lonely. The waiter gladly took her order ("beer please, thanks") and soon she was nursing it.

It was still early. The stage was empty. She recognized some members of a band that often played there as they took care of other things. The tables were barely occupied, with only a few customers eating and talking as they waited. She still didn't know what brought her here. But she decided to make use of the time and hear out at least the first performing band for the night.

The bartender asked if she had any food she wanted and she realized she hadn't had any dinner yet. She ordered up some nachos and smiled her thanks. It was served immediately; efficient, the service was.

Minutes trickled in. Seats filled up and more food and drinks were ordered. The audience ranged from finely-dressed adults with acquaintances to casually-clothed teenagers with their families out on a Saturday night. Alcoholic drinks were, of course, for those of legal age. More chattering can be heard then, with laughter piercing the air every now and then.

For a moment, Misha felt out of place being alone there. Everyone seemed like they were with someone, and enjoying the company. She itched to leave but the curiosity of her being there was heavier. She signaled for another bottle, hoping that a little alcohol could ease her anxiety up.

There was relief when the lights dimmed and the stage brightened up. The band members were finally ready to play. She turned away, drumming softly her fingers on the counter. The thing with music is sometimes you don't have to see the singer to appreciate the song. It was Misha's habit to just listen and let the rhythm envelop her.

The set started slow, with the intro creeping in. The guitars began, strumming almost quietly together. Then the drums, adding that beat that makes the heart pound in time. When the keyboard joined in, it almost seemed sweet and gentle. The song sounded familiar to Misha but she was never good with titles anyway.

When a voice started singing, Misha's heart nearly stopped. It took her by surprise, gripped her with an emotion she could not pinpoint. She looked over and saw the voice's owner.

He was young. Or at least he looked young. He had a round face, almost chubby cheeks and full lips. His hair was short and dark. He wore simple but stylish black clothes. He seemed new 'cause Misha remembered someone different as the band's lead singer. But he was good, probably better than the previous one.

His voice... it sounded different. Sounded special. It was husky, but deep enough that it suited the song. His voice blended in well with the tune.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. He had his eyes closed as he sang, emotions etched on those beautiful features. How easily those feelings showed, almost like he experienced what the song was conveying. The lights played around him, dancing to the slow rhythm of his voice and instruments combined. The sight was just... mesmerizing.

And when he opened his eyes, they instantly met hers. She could not tell the color but the shine in them was bright, distinct from the flashing stage lights. Then a smile slowly stretched those lips that were still letting out beautiful sounds. Misha felt her heart beat just a little harder, a little faster.

Maybe she'll stay just a little longer...

~~~

It then became a habit, this venturing alone in that place just to listen to that band play, that singer sing. Whether it was a weekday or a weekend, she would find the time to go there, sit for a while, and appreciate their covers of popular songs. It helped that she knew someone from that place who could tell her if the band was scheduled for that day.

She would always end up at that spot at the bar, at the back but close enough to the stage that she could still see the performers' faces. She could still enjoy both the voice and the beauty that that singer possessed. And still feel flustered whenever he sent her a smile.

She never had the courage to go up to him and ask his name. She didn't think there was a need to go beyond what relationship they had anyway, an audience member to a performer.

That particular day though, everything seemed to go wrong. Presentations did not go well; clients were more demanding than usual. Files went missing; bosses were a constant headache all day.

The only bright point had been that message that said the band was performing again that night. It made her smile, and just a little giggly. It was always a pleasure for her to take a couple of hours off and bask in some live music. And of course, to see him.

She almost ran late. The work seemed to never end even as the hours passed by. She nearly went frantic when she couldn't leave on time. She couldn't even imagine missing that voice sing a single song.

When she got there, the lights were already dimmed and the intro to the first song was being played. People were already entranced by the melody. She softly muttered "excuse me" and made her way to her usual seat.

It was a surprise to her when she found a rose on the counter just where the stool she usually sat on was found. She looked around, wondering if someone left it by accident. It seemed like a waste; the flower was in full bloom, with petals as red as they can get.

She noticed the man hunched over on his seat next to hers. She wanted to ask if it was his companion that left the flower. But he seemed intent on focusing on the performing band that she didn't have it in her to disturb him.

She sat down, gingerly taking the flower, when a drink was served for her. She looked inquisitively at the waiter but he only sent her a knowing smile. It wasn't her usual drink though, which made her wonder even more.

Then she jolted inside just a little when the singing started. That voice was doing its wonders again. It gripped her once more, the sound carrying her to her own world of live music. However, the voice sounded much closer, louder and finer than the usual.

She turned just as the stool next to hers whirled around. And froze when she saw the man next to her was him. That gorgeous singer with an equally gorgeous voice. There was already a smile on his lips, one that showed perfect sets of white teeth. The mic in his hand could not even hide that. And when their eyes connected, his crinkled a bit on the sides, amusement so clear in them. Her heart skipped a beat, then thumped so hard, she swore he almost heard it.

He was singing to her, directing that love song clearly to her and seemingly meaning each word. She was half-aware that the rest of the audience was watching them. She felt slightly paralyzed at the attention, having always stayed in the back.

But what was she to do? When he took her hand that did not hold the rose, she felt the heat rise from her neck to her cheeks. Good thing it was dark or everyone would have seen just how red she was, especially after the catcalls and hoots she got. She just hoped he did not mind her hand that was probably starting to sweat.

His hand felt just a little rough, but big enough that it comfortably covered her smaller one. She could not tear her eyes away from him but she felt his hand give hers a squeeze. It made her smile and the audience reacted positively to it.

The song ended beautifully, with that smile of his still intact, never faltering. One of the band members went over and took his mic, joking about giving them some privacy. They took over the singing in the next song.

He still did not look away though. Nor let go of her hand. His white button-down shirt with long sleeves pushed up gave him a little illumination in the semi-darkness of the place. Dark trousers and shoes completed his look. His hair seemed to have been styled naturally. She had to appreciate just how good-looking he was in his simplicity tonight.

The audience was finally focused on the band onstage, leaving them alone. But it still was difficult for her. She nearly fidgeted on her seat, nerves on the edge. What was she to say to him? What was there to tell him? "Hi I'm a big fan of yours and I come here every time you guys perform"? Stalkerish.

But her worries melted away when he lifted her hand and brushed soft, soft lips on the back of it. She bit down on her own, heart jumping erratically in her chest. His eyes flicked to the rose in her tightly gripped hand for a moment, then back to her, the glint in them shining brighter even in a place like that.

"My name's Youngjae."

"… Misha."

"Would you like to go out on a date?"

Who cares if her whole day was bad? Her night just turned for the better.

~~~END~~~