It took Wonsik a few moments to realize the question had been directed to him. His tongue felt thicker than it should have been, sluggish. And even though he’d been drinking his wits weren’t normally so slow. Somehow he’d faced down the toughest and meanest thugs in the district but the slight uptick smile of a singer with a dangerous bead of sweat rolling down his cheek all but turned him mute.

There really was something eerie about the boy, his eyes seemed a little too wide, his jaw almost too square, his neck too thick. It shouldn’t have worked and yet it did, all forming slightly off pieces to a beautiful puzzle. For some reason that made Wonsik even more wary of him than he had been before. His senses didn’t like feeling like they were being tricked.

“Yeah, yeah it was good.” Wonsik searched for something to say, but he was already a little offput that he’d been noticed let alone marked as a regular. For the most part he’d attempted to stay off the radar and keep to himself. “You always sing such sad songs.” Though he wasn’t sure what else to expect. The place seemed to cater to the destitute, or else why would he be there?

The singer dragged his finger through a small puddle on the bar top, swirling the liquid around for a moment in little patterns. Wonsik wasn’t sure that he was going to reply at all until he spoke up, that deep rich voice just as clear when he wasn’t singing, but not raising his head to face him. “Are they sad?” A soft huff escaped his lips, beading the water on the bar and pushing it away. “I guess. They seem normal to me.” A hint of a dimple teased out of the singer’s cheek as he wheezed out another soft laugh. “Maybe that says something about me?”

It probably did, but Wonsik didn’t feel as if they were close enough to say such a thing. It wasn’t his business, whatever brand of loneliness or sadness that ate at him, but it made him wonder again at just why he felt drawn there. “I wouldn’t look too deeply into it.” He offered and tipped back his glass again, finishing off the dregs of his… seventh? It was hard to be sure. “A lot of songs are sad, guess they fit the mood of the place.”

Another pause as the other considered his words. “I guess this is a sad place too.” He didn’t sound offended by Wonsik’s off the cuff remark, more like resigned. “A sad singer with a sad stage. So, does that make you a sad customer?” Wonsik felt more than saw the way the young man edged closer, head tilted just to the side, neck arched just slightly. Almost inviting, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted by the slightly sweat damp expanse of skin. Not that he’d ever actually consider it though. “I’m Hongbin, by the way.” He reached out with one small hand waiting for Wonsik to reciprocate. “Lee Hongbin.”

“Kim Wonsik,” he’d expected Hongbin’s hand to be soft, at the very least a little hesitant, but there was an unseen steel in his grip that had Wonsik re-evaluating his opinion of the fair skinned man. Observant, a little deceptive, and still that fine gloss of sadness that he couldn’t quite place. “I guess I am a little sad, but aren’t we all in a way.”

“That’s a pessimist’s view, Wonsik,” Hongbin chided but it sounded more like a statement than any kind of appeal to a better nature. “Is that why you come here a lot? Misery loves company?” It was a bit too nail on the head to feel comfortable with. “I’ve been watching you, you know? You usually seem really closed off from the rest of the bar.” Wonsik could say the same about nearly every other patron there. “But you want to pretend your mind is blank when in reality you just look really stressed out.”

It didn’t bode well that he’d been so obvious about it. Shrugging, it was Wonsik’s turn to play aimlessly with his empty glass. For a stranger Hongbin wasn’t shy about saying what was on his mind, but there was almost something comforting to it. “I think everyone has stress too.” A part of him wanted to explain why, to just dump all over him and get some room in his chest to breathe. But it felt a little cruel; he was sure that Hongbin was only being friendly to a paying customer in the way a bartender was supposed to but the one employed there didn’t.

“You like being mysterious, don’t you?” Hongbin smiled at him, eyes turning crescent like before he turned his attention to his drink. There was a certain fascination when a man displayed drinking talent like the singer’s; he lifted the glass and drained it in one shot. Wonsik caught himself watching his adam’s apple bob and glanced away. Mysterious? He’d never really considered himself much like that. Most people thought of him as an open book, but being vocal at the department was a long ways off from where he was. The soft click of the glass hitting the bar top sounded too loud. “Want to go out?”

What? Wonsik blinked at the sudden question, one brow rising high on his forehead as he scrutinized the fair faced singer. He’d swear he must have misheard him if it hadn’t been extremely clear. “I haven’t paid my tab yet,” the words stumbled out of his mouth as he opened it to reject the invitation, heat from the alcohol rose in his cheeks to color them red. He’d been coming to the bar to keep his solitude not gaining company. Even if that company came in the form of an attractive man.

“I’ll find it for you.” Wordlessly Wonsik watched as Hongbin hopped off his chair, lifting up the passage at the end of the bar to pass through. With practiced ease he dug around behind the bar, fingers flipping through pieces of paper as the normal bartender had seemingly disappeared for the moment. In fact, taking a look around, Wonsik realized nearly everyone else there had as well. When had that happened and why hadn’t he noticed? “Got it!” It wasn’t all he’d got, Wonsik thought as he watched the smiling boy palm a few bills from the tip jar. Wasn’t his business… or so he told himself. “Wow, rough night, huh?” He heard more than saw the smirk in his voice as he rang up the bill, “you should tell me about it when we go out.”

“Where are you going?” the main bartender’s soft voice floated around the corner almost before he did, a damp hand towel slung over his shoulder, hair slightly tousled as if he’d been running his hand through it. Those ever watching eyes paused to dart between the two of them and if Wonsik wasn’t mistaken he very definitely sneered at him.

Without even sparing Wonsik a glance, Hongbin handed over his card and receipt to sign. “Oh, you’re still here, Taekwoon?” It must have been the bartender’s name, “I’m going out with Wonsik tonight.” He had never agreed to that, but kept his silence, scribbling his signature along the line and handing the paper tray back.

“I don’t want you to,” it was very definitely a sneer now, and it was directed Wonsik’s way. Something tense was in the air, of that he was sure. Were they related? Lovers? He couldn’t tell, but there was more than what the eye could see going on.

For a moment it seemed as if Hongbin would protest, the pretty boy look he’d kept on his face since sitting down next to Wonsik dropped away in an instant. Nothing drastic but a sudden wariness seemed to enter his eyes, his chin lifted a cm or two, and the smile dropped away, it made him look older than Wonsik would have initially guessed, and much less harmless. The two of them shared a look, of what he wasn’t sure but something unsaid passed between them. And then in a blink it seemed to disappear and the slightly soft and sad flower boy was back.

“Guess I’ll have to take a rain check on hearing about it.” Hongbin smiled once and tucked the receipt Wonsik had returned to him away next to the register.

“We’re closing.” Taekwoon’s eyes darted toward the exit, urging Wonsik to get the hint. He crossed his arms over his chest, once more the imposing sentry there to keep watch. It all just rankled Wonsik a bit. He wasn’t stupid, there was something hidden there, something neither of them wanted him to see. And his instinct told him it would be nothing but trouble. But how was he supposed to just ignore his gut.

Easily done, according to his department inspector, he thought with a grumble. But it wasn’t just that easy.

“Yeah, I’m going,” he stood, a little tipsily, and brushed down his jacket, turning the collar up once more on his way out. No, something wasn’t right there at all and it made the bridge of his nose itch to find out. The very definite click of a lock followed him out, once more on the empty street, with the silence that the stillness of night brought on.

There was something strange going on between those two, maybe even the bar itself. Leave it alone, he thought, it’s what his superiors would have told him. Wonsik hated mysteries, but he was sure as hell going to solve this one.