“Are you sure this is it?” he murmured, fingers gripping tighter onto the piece of paper that he held. His thumb ran over the rough surface and ink slowly, methodically. Eyes pointed upward toward the dark building, Jongin already felt out of place. This was the wrong address. Surely.

“Nope, that’s it. 414.” Another finger pointed to the paper, the numbers bolded in what happened to be a dodgy pen that blotted the ink in places.

“….Right, okay. Thanks.” Jongin nodded, and the stranger moved on his own way, down the street and around the corner. Jongin’s eyes drew themselves away from the building to follow the figure with a hint of interest. He couldn’t help that he had a wandering eye. The city seemed to provide him with a broad range of men that he could lay his eyes upon and simply watch.

Of course, Jongin was subtle about his choices. Every once in a while one would catch the look in eyes and return it playfully, yet it was always short-lived.

Everything in the city according to Jongin was to be enjoyed in short, quick bursts.

Pulling himself back to the present, he made his way toward the building. Opening the door slowly, he peeked inside, muttering an audible ‘hello?’ before opening the door wider.

There was no reply.

Of course, the place that he was referred to was a bar. A bar of this kind, of course it wouldn’t be open at this time of the day. Stepping in and closing the door behind him, Jongin made his way to one of the stools, before sitting down and once more voicing a ‘hello’.

“Too early to be drinking, don’t you think?” An older man, stood at the top of the stairs. A balcony had edged itself around the walls, making Jongin feel like he was the object of amusement among a crowd of spectators. Except it were only himself and the old man.

Upon observation, the old man was wearing black pinstripe trousers, along with a grey dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, cuffs sticking out untidily. White suspenders stood out among the monotonous color scheme, and as Jongin tilted his eyes upward, the man had this professional yet…scruffy look. Rough, ragged, yet full of class. The five o’clock shadow, the broad shoulders, the pale green eyes.

“I uh, well. I was told you have a job opening?” Jongin cleared his throat, feeling himself sink inward toward himself as the man walked down the stairs, the sound echoing throughout the bar.

“I do,” and the man sat in the stool next to Jongin, arm resting on the cool mahogany of the bar.

Jongin didn’t know how to reply to that. Honestly, this man screamed all kinds of ‘no’. Yet, he couldn’t help but be so interested and curious that Jongin found himself leaning toward the other sub-consciously.

“Not going to answer?” the man’s voice was as deep as the wrinkles set in his face, as if each line was strategically drawn in by an artist.

Jongin wasn’t going to lie, this man was attractive. “I’d like the j—“

“Can you mix a drink?”

“No but,”

“How quickly can you learn?”

“…Fairly quickly, I guess?”

“One week.”

“One week?”

“If you can make drinks, and make them well in one week, you can keep the job. There’s a book under the counter on the other side,” the man pointed to the shelves that hid beneath the bar. “You can learn from there. Start tonight, come at nine.”

Blinking, Jongin merely nodded, while the man rose, walking back up the stairs.

It had happened all too quickly, but Jongin had gotten what he was seeking. Income. Eventually, he would have more than the TV in his apartment, and he would be able to eat at least three times a week.

Sliding off the stool and walking behind the bar, Jongin tentatively took the book, flicking the pages. Diagrams with names of alcohols he didn’t know existed, Jongin found himself in a bit of a predicament.

He only hoped that it wouldn’t be busy when he returned at nine.