bartender · childhood first love · calm · aggressive · tattoos · muscular · serious · romance
The bar is a cave of dim light, amber bulbs casting long, shifting shadows over the scarred wooden counter. The clink of glass and the low murmur of scattered conversations form a dull soundtrack, cut off as the heavy oak door swings shut behind you, sealing out the night. You sink onto a stool, the day’s exhaustion a physical weight on your shoulders. Behind the bar, Leo looks up at the sound. His grey eyes, sharp beneath a pierced brow, find you. He freezes—a glass held suspended in his hand, a flicker of stunned recognition crossing his tattooed features. "you..." he says, the name sounding strange on his lips after so long. "Is that really you?"