Their after-work destination was a well-known spot, celebrated not just for its generous portions of delicious steaks but also for its unusual hours, staying open until patrons either started flirting with the waitstaff or fell off their stools. Even the thought of leaving before 2 AM was seen as a violation of unspoken rules.
"C'moooon, boss," Iris mumbled, her inebriated moves nearly knocking the owner's tie askew as she tried to put a piece of meat on his plate with her fork. "Let's open later tomorrow! Just one extra hour!"
"Darling," the owner answered, spilling half his refilled wine onto the table, "what if we get inspected?!" He punctuated this with a forceful fist on the table, which made silverware jump and woke Ivi from her dozing state, startling her like an electric shock.
"So what?!" Iris countered, slapping the table hard enough to make Ivi clutch her head. "If they shut us down? We'll just open a new place!"
The owner froze, his blurred gaze becoming philosophical as he seemed to try to decode the mysteries of the universe hovering in the air.
"Oh..." He blinked slowly. "You're... right."
"She's right!"
"To us!"
"TO US!"
"Boys!" Iris gestured grandly towards Rava and Blaine. "Ivi! Stop sleeping and join us!"
Ivi, still holding her head, whimpered: "I'm dying..."
"You're not dying," Blaine cheerfully pushed a glass of water towards her.
Rava couldn't help but laugh at the chaos. His own sobriety was somewhere between "I'm still okay" and "wow, the table is definitely moving."
"Alright," the owner suddenly stood with ceremonial gravitas, slightly swaying. "Tomorrow we open..." He paused for dramatic effect. "At eight!"
[...]
[...]
"Eight-thirty!"
[...]
"Ten?"
"HURRAY!" Iris cheered loudly enough to make nearby diners turn.
"But if anyone tells the inspectors," the owner suddenly became deadly serious, pointing his fork at each of them, "you're all fired."
"Our lips are sealed!" Blaine raised his glass, winking at Rava.
"Silent as the grave," Ivi rasped, still cradling her head.
Rava sipped his 4% pale ale, enjoying the pleasant warmth spreading through him. He rarely allowed himself to relax like this, but tonight was different. His fingers tapped the condensation on his glass in time with the bar's music as his gaze wandered over their group: the owner red as a cooked lobster, Iris brandishing her fork like a steak-filled sword, Ivi hunched over her water glass like it contained the secrets of the universe - and Blaine.
Blaine.
His normally neatly styled green hair was now in disarray on his forehead. He was excitedly telling a story, gesturing wildly, and Rava couldn't look away from how his amber eyes crinkled when he laughed, how his lips moved...
Damn, have I really fallen for him?
The thought made his heart race. Had he been attracted to Blaine's appearance first? Absolutely. But the last few days had proven something else - Blaine was truly kind. The type who read menus to older customers who forgot their glasses, who delivered orders without being asked, who maintained unwavering patience, even with the most difficult patrons.
But what did Rava really know about him? Rich diplomat parents. Same age. And... that was it. Every attempt to talk about his past was met with an evasive "I'll tell you when we are more relaxed."
What "more relaxed" setting? We are in a bar at 2 AM! And why did he take my phone anyway? What if...
His thoughts were interrupted by the owner slamming his fist on the table:
"Rava! Tell me the truth!" His voice was slurred with drunken offense. "I own two cafes! I invest in small businesses! But I live in a worse neighborhood than my own barista! That's... That's injustice!"
Rava automatically gave his rehearsed answer:
"My wealthy relatives bought me the apartment after high school."
The owner frowned, his flushed face the picture of drunken concentration. But before he could react, Ivi - still holding her head - gave Rava a puzzled look:
"You said... you were an orphan."
The room froze. Even the background music seemed to soften. Rava felt Blaine turn toward him - that penetrating stare that sent shivers down his spine.
"My grandmother raised me," he said smoothly. That part was true - years of lies and half-truths came naturally. "After she passed... distant relatives took me in." That part was fabricated.
The owner patted him on the shoulder:
"Treasure them!" he announced tearfully.
But Rava hardly noticed the drunken sentiment. Blaine's gaze burned into him - usually warm eyes now sharp, almost predatory, as if he could see through every layer of his facade.
"Interesting," Blaine murmured, pouring more wine. "Where are these... distant relatives now?"
A trap. Simple but effective. Rava's palms grew damp. He took a slow sip of beer, buying time.
"Abroad. We rarely meet."
Blaine nodded, but his eyes conveyed a different message. What was that look?
Suddenly, Iris's loud laughter broke the tension:
"Oh, enough already!" She stood unsteadily. "Who wants to dance with me?"
The owner instantly stood up, nearly overturning his chair. Ivi only groaned, covering her eyes with her hand. Blaine, however, kept his eyes fixed on Rava.
"You're a strange liar," he finally murmured, so quietly only Rava could hear. "But I like it."
Heat rushed to Rava's face. He wanted to reply, but at that moment, the phone in Blaine's pocket vibrated. They both flinched.
"Yours." Blaine took out the device and looked at the screen. His eyebrows rose slightly. "Unknown number."
Rava reached out:
"Give it to me."
But Blaine was already putting it to his ear:
"Hello?"
Silence. Then his face twisted in disgust as he moved the phone away.
"Wrong number," he said coldly, ending the call. His grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. "Some... vulgar people."
A chill ran down Rava's spine. How could he have let a stranger answer a call meant for him? This was the end. His head was pounding, his legs felt weak, excuses whirled in his mind. What can I say? That I lost my phone? That I was in the bathroom when someone answered it?
Blaine suddenly stood:
"Let's go."
"Where?" Rava asked sharply, still shaking.
"Just come."
He took Rava's wrist and pulled him towards the exit, leaving behind a half-drunk beer and their confused colleagues.
The night air was chilly. Blaine walked quickly, almost running, without releasing Rava's hand. Rava stayed silent but obeyed. Part of him wanted to step into the street and await his fate.
When Blaine finally stopped under a streetlight, his eyes burned in the amber glow.
"I don't know what kind of awful situation you're in, but..." He squeezed Rava's hand tighter. "You don't have to deal with it by yourself. Understood?"
"Can you describe the caller's voice?"
"Huh?"
Blaine tilted his head, confused. He stared at passing cars, tension etched more deeply into his features.
"It was a man's voice, right? Around thirty?"
"..." Blaine remained silent, jaw clenched.
Rava made a choked sound, his legs giving way as he collapsed onto the pavement.
He rarely used violence against Rava these days, but he never looked the other way when other men were involved. The streams weren't part of his "jealousy" - moderators recorded every scripted word and gesture, every client-dictated action. But anything beyond the screen? That never went unnoticed.
The night air was cold, but Rava barely felt it. His body was shaking with tiny spasms, his fingers tangled in his hair so tightly that his scalp burned. Somewhere at the edges of his consciousness, he registered whispers from passersby and the hum of passing cars, all far away, muffled, as if underwater.
Blaine stood over him, his silhouette sharply defined by the streetlights. His usually lively face might as well have been made of stone. Those amber eyes Rava had grown to love over these past few days had become a cold, steely brown.
"So it's your ex." Blaine's voice was unrecognizable, low and grating, like metal on metal.
Rava raised his head. His lips trembled, but no words came out. What could he say? Yes, the man who has kept me in terror for years? He monitors my every move? I thought I was finally free, but he'll never really let me go?
Instead, he just nodded weakly, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. Shame, fear, relief, all knotted together in his throat.
Blaine suddenly knelt in front of him, his hands gently untangling Rava's fingers from his hair.
"Listen to me." His voice had regained its warmth but carried a new, firm assurance. "You're not alone anymore. Understood?"
Rava's immediate impulse was to argue, to make it clear to Blaine that he had no comprehension of the situation. That this wasn't a simple case of an embittered former lover. That the man was connected, wealthy, influential. That he..."This isn't up for debate," Blaine interrupted, his tone firm. "It's a declaration."His fingers gently wiped away Rava's tears, a gesture of such exquisite gentleness that Rava reflexively closed his eyes tightly—almost as if fearing the moment might dissolve.He longed to implore Blaine to back away, to protect himself from the danger. Yet the words evaporated when Blaine suddenly gathered him into his arms, drawing Rava's head against his own chest."You're safe," he breathed into Rava's hair. "I swear it."And strangely, in spite of his fear, despite the ingrained years of suspicion, something within Rava... loosened. As if the immense burden he'd been shouldering for years had finally started to break apart.They remained like that on the freezing ground—two adults embracing in the middle of the metropolis. People strolled around them, their gazes curious, yet no one truly paid attention to their personal despair.When Rava's shivering subsided, Blaine helped him stand."Bl-Blaine, I… I think I…""Come on," Blaine squeezed his hand, halting his words. "I'm not the kind to desert a friend."Friend?Of course. I'm being delusional.Rava couldn't fathom how he could have fallen for a near-stranger in just a few days, much less hoped it could be returned. A new surge of panic arose, this time for a completely different reason. No one would ever comprehend this.But he still grasped Blaine's hand. And allowed himself to be guided.
Without inquiring where.