Chapter Text

Part 1: Grey

Chapter 1

“Hey, it’s Nico. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message and I might call you back.”

*Beep*

“Nico…Nichol. Where are you? Everything is shit. *hiccup* They kicked me out. The job…and my house. They left me. Or I left them? 

“I’m sorry for leaving you, Nichol. 

“I had some drinks tonight. Maybe two or seven. And then I thought about you because the night was so pretty. Do you remember the last night we saw each other? We *hiccup* danced. You were so happy. 

“I am not happy. It’s cold outside. Why is it so cold in April? I wish you were here. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Years? I want you to be okay. I want to be okay with you. I need you, Nico.

“I need you.”

*Click*

Chapter 2

The faint buzz of neon lights tickled Euijoo’s ears. Half the bulbs to his new place of employment were burnt out; it only read “Luné” now. Which was why he’d spent the past hour searching for the full name—Bar Luné. The peeling paint on the metal door and the chips in the brick walls were like an inscription on a tombstone. Euijoo sighed. It was fitting, really.He could see it now: Here lies Byun Euijoo, desperate, disappointing, and doomed. 

He pulled the rusty handle, stepping inside. He was plunged into darkness, his hands gripping for purchase on the sticky red walls as he strode through the hallway. He stumbled along slowly, hardly able to see his feet. It was dank, like stale cotton, grey and dirty. But the hall wasn’t long—a light dawned a few feet ahead. He took a steadying breath and entered the room. 

There was a bar on his right—a typical wooden-top with mirrored display shelves behind it. Euijoo caught his reflection and grimaced. His dark fringe fell greasy across his brow, highlighting the dark circles under his brown, soulless eyes. 

A week of sleeping on the floor would do that to anyone. A week of a homeless, jobless life would do that to anyone. 

He wrenched his gaze from his reflection, sweeping it across the rest of the room. It was all black leather booths with swaths of red and pink velvet curtains across doorways. A stage sat at the front, seductive and taunting, called to him like a siren. The pole was silver, glinting, and threateningly alluring . Euijoo’s stomach turned.

Bottles rattled and he jumped. Shaking it off, he swallowed around the lump in his throat. He needed to speak to someone about the job. His new job, bartending at a strip club, because apparently Bar Lune was the only place in this entire city that hired on such short notice.

“Is that Euijoo? Honey, come here,” a voice boomed from behind a doorway in the far corner. Euijoo whipped towards the noise, heart thumping in his chest.

A tall man dressed in a matching black velour tracksuit. He trotted down the stairs, weaving through black tables and chairs and halted in front of Euijoo, meeting him eye to eye, if not a little higher. Euijoo’s brows rose. Not many men were tall like he was. His spark of curiosity was the first thing he'd felt in days.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” the stranger said, a broad smile on his face. The edges of his eyes creased when he grinned, as if he were looking at someone he loved. 

Euijoo stifled a cold laugh. Impossible. No one loved him. He was alone.

“I am Euijoo, yes,” Euijoo replied drily. Somewhere deep inside him, the conscientious and nice part of him knocked against his cell walls, attempting to escape. But he kept the cage closed, content to continue on with the blank and unfeeling narrative he’d created.

The world was grey, and he was fine with that.

“I’ll take you on a tour once the place starts livening up. For now, take a hop over the bar and get settled. It will be your home now.” 

Euijoo flinched. The man had no idea how true that likely was. 

“Are you going to tell me your name?” Euijoo asked. 

“Ah! Sorry. I’m Kei. Owner and manager.” Kei gave Euijoo another bright smile. Euijoo returned it with a blank look. He didn’t have it in him to offer any semblance of feigned niceties, even to the man who ran the place. It had already been a long day.

But it was a job, the thing he needed more than anything else. So he tried. “I’ll just…” Euijoo pointed at the bar. 

“Yes, of course. Let me know if you need anything.” Then, Kei strode off. 

Euijoo ran his hand along the wood of the bar. It rippled under his finger tips, dips and curves from years of use. Up and down the bar he went, searching for a way to enter the bar. He halted.

Hop over the bar.

“So he genuinely meant hop over the bar,” Euijoo grumbled. He eyed the piece of wood again. It came up to his waist, so actually hopping wasn’t an option. He turned and pressed his back against the bar, propping his hands behind him. Then he jumped, ass successfully landing on the worn wood, before twisting and sliding down onto the other side. 

How he would manage it drunk (because he surely would be drinking to get through this), he wasn’t sure, but he’d figure it out when he got there. 

The dark red mats under his feet were sticky. In fact, the whole backbar was sticky. It needed a good scrub down, and as much as he hated to participate in any activity in his current state, he also wanted to be paid. 

It was just a job. He needed it. He could do it.

Kei had disappeared and Euijoo was alone. He was stuck behind this bar, caged in just like he’d caged parts of himself. His stomach churned again as he searched cabinets for cleaning supplies. Maybe if he doused himself in this stuff along with the bar, he would feel better.

At least he had a job.

***

The liquor bottles gleamed bright under the multicolored string lights. Euijoo’s eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the low lighting, but he was pleased with the way things were turning out. The mats under his feet were no longer sticky and the mirror behind the shelving reflected back a man who was still rumpled and tired, but a little more alive. 

His heart soared. Purpose was good. Euijoo needed a purpose to make it through this. Even if that meant cleaning fifty bottles of alcohol and scrubbing floors on his hands and knees.

Said floors were smooth and shiny, but there was still more to be done. He crouched in front of the cabinets under the register, scrubbing at the handles. Euijoo ground his teeth in concentration, his arm straining and muscles pulling as he dug his hand into the handle. 

Something nudged his shoulder. It knocked him off balance, tottering before falling to the side, right onto his ass. A storm cloud appeared and rain drops of disgruntlement fell over him. Heat licked his face, a blush surely covering his cheeks in a ruddy pink.

“New guy?” Someone above him asked. A hand shoved into his field of vision and Euijoo looked up. Despite his inclination to swat the hand away, he took it and let the person pull him up. 

Chiseled features met him. A strong jaw, dark eyes, and blond hair on top of a perfectly sculpted body. Euijoo's stomach fluttered, a swoon almost kicking him off balance again, but he caught himself just in time.

Boys, like this one, were really fucking pretty. But none would ever be him.

“I’m Euijoo,” he said, patting down his pants and avoiding eye contact. His skin was pierced by the pin pricks of a stare.

“Maki. I guess you’ll be my new bar mate?” 

Euijoo nodded noncommittally. He hated introductions. They were boring and a waste of his time. Everything was so grey and drab and depressing. It didn’t matter who it was or what they said, he was met with fake sincerity and a wrung out persona. Threadbare and overused and easy to see through. 

“Bar Lune tends to be the last stop shop for most. What brought you here?” Maki asked. He turned in a circle, surveying the bar space. He blinked in surprise. It was so clean.

“Last stop? Am I going to die here?” Euijoo eyed Maki suspiciously, lids lowered into slits. Sweat permeated from his palms and he rubbed them on his pants before backing away from his new co-worker.

Maki laughed. It was like bells. Not small bells, or the ones that rattled around at Christmas. Maki’s laugh was like the booming of church bells or the ringing of a clock each hour. Rich and bold and a muted gold. The realness of it settled Euijoo’s nerves, the anxiety racing underneath his skin fracturing and falling away.

“No. It just attracts people down on their luck. People with nowhere else to go. I, for example, had just dropped out of school. Harua, the other bartender, came out to his parents and was disowned. X, a dancer, was strapped for cash. Ended up not needing it after his shitty break up, but he stayed anyway. You get the gist.”

Euijoo’s heart stalled before picking up pace again. The whisper of something like belonging echoed in his mind before snuffing out like a candle flame. “Lost my job and got kicked out of my apartment. No job means I can’t pay my rent.” 

“I knew it.” Maki smiled but quickly dropped it. “I’m sorry, man. If you need a place to crash, you can always stay at mine.” 

His mind whirled with the possibilities. A new friend. Sleeping on their couch. Watching movies and eating meals together. Carpooling to work. But just like always, a cold crash of icy water poured over his head, shocking his system back to reality.

Maybe if he was different.

“You wanna show me the ropes?” Euijoo asked, skirting the offer. 

Maki didn’t seem miffed, instead diving into the in and outs of the bar. The soda spigots lived by the credit card machine and the cups. The coolers were underneath with canned drinks and garnishes were set up by the front bar where they took orders. The beer taps were across from the credit card machine. They were backed by a wide swatch of mirrors, and Euijoo had to face his reflection once again. He turned quickly, before he could get a closer look. 

“It’s the busiest on the weekends, like any bar,” Maki said. “Occasionally we’ll get a bachelorette or bachelor party in here on a random Tuesday. And anytime X performs it's a packed house. So we always have full staff on those nights.”

Euijoo fiddled with a basil leaf while he listened. The stage loomed before him, black and high and daunting. He shivered, imagining himself up there.

“Any questions?” Maki poked his shoulder.

“Nope. Trial by fire usually works best for me, anyway,” Euijoo said. It was a great way to get a decent amount of failures out of the way. So his new employer would understand that they’d hired a waste of space.

Fingers snapped in his face. “Quit zoning out. Your round eyes make you look like a creepy doll when you do that.”

Euijoo stuck his middle finger out at his fellow bartender. Bells chimed again, muted gold and booming.

***

Euijoo stared at the booth in the back. His training day was complete, and since it was a Monday, the bar was closed. Maki had left and Kei was nowhere to be seen, so Euijoo walked around on his own.

One part curiosity, one part trying to find somewhere to sleep. 

He’d never been in a strip club before this (a three year long, faithful relationship would do that to a guy), but he was well aware of what a strip club entailed. Dark booths and privacy curtains or black doors with “Do Not Disturb” written in swirling script. 

Euijoo pulled back a curtain, velvet soft against his fingertips. Another pole greeted him, silver and glinting in the low light of a few lamps. A black, plush settee sat across from it. Euijoo nearly moaned, feet tangling as he stumbled towards the furniture. His bones and muscles melted into a pile when he laid down. His legs were too long for the seat, but it was fine, because he hadn’t felt this comfortable since the day he was evicted from his apartment.

The bright red letters on his door flashed across his mind, bile rising in his throat. Of all the things to happen to him, that was one of the worst. He’d been struggling with rent, practically scraping together coins every month. Euijoo’s landlord was ecstatic when Euijoo’s rent was late again. There was no scraping left for Euijoo to do.

Euijoo tried to sleep but woke every few hours, dizzy and disoriented, turning back and forth on the small settee. Every time he closed his eyes, he was met with another outrageous vision of his temp job falling apart. The heat from his desk burst into flames. The ache in his wrists as the building’s security shackled him and pulled him away. The printer paper turning into planes and hitting him one by one, every single one printed with the same words: “We regret to inform you that we do not have a permanent position for you at this time.”

They all ended with him kicked out of the building onto his ass.

It hadn’t been a dream job, and it hadn’t paid well, but at least he’d been employed. At least there’d been hope of some security once his position became permanent. At least he could pretend he wasn’t the giant loser he knew himself to be.

He eventually gave up on sleep and fumbled for his phone. It had fallen to the floor, the cold tiles beneath his fingertips like a balm to his sweat-soaked, sleepy skin. The light blasted his eyes when the phone turned on. Nine-thirty flashed up on the screen and he groaned. 

Bar Luné didn’t open until noon, but staff were expected to show up at eleven. It wouldn’t be much of an issue for him to get to work on time, considering he slept here, but he did need to find a shower.  

He stood and stumbled, reaching blindly for a lightswitch. He found it on the far wall and flicked it on. A beautiful chandelier illuminated the space, including a man in the doorway. Euijoo yelped and fell onto the chair beneath him.

“Typically don’t include sleeping arrangements in the employee package. Just free booze and a t-shirt,” the man said.  He was buff, his black short sleeve t-shirt stretching precariously across his biceps. Despite the muscles, his face was soft. 

Euijoo’s heart raced, his pulse heavy and harsh in his throat. Any leftover tiredness had evaporated, his eyes wide and unblinking. “I’m sorry?”

“You can’t sleep here. You shouldn’t sleep here, actually. We keep it clean but I wouldn’t hang out in one of these rooms longer than necessary.” The man gave him a gentle smile. It didn’t quite correlate to Euijoo how someone so buff and bulky could be so soft.

Euijoo shook his head, then pinched his arm, hissing in the process. Not another dream, then.

The man pushed off the doorway, unfolding his arms. “I’m Fuma. Let’s head out and talk, yeah?”

Euijoo followed, back down the sticky hallways and into the main area of the bar. A few windows were open, the blackout screens pulled high. The stage and the silver pole seemed less daunting with a bit of sunlight cast upon them. The tension that hung tight between Euijoo’s shoulder blades loosened. He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry you found me. I’d planned to be up before anyone got here.” Euijoo wrung his hands nervously. 

“I always come in and do a quick walk through before a day starts. You’re not the first person I’ve caught who’d passed out back there. Not usually an employee, though.” Fuma said. His smile was less gentle this time. More of a smirk, and it taunted Euijoo until his pulse quickened. Heat crawled up his throat.

Euijoo’s neck prickled and he tensed again. “My bad,” he said, defensive to his own ears.

“No worries. I’ve got to finish my sweep but I’ll see you when the rest of the staff gets here.” 

With that, Fuma was on his way, his broad shoulders disappearing around a corner. Euijoo stood in the lone ray of sunshine shining in through the window. Dust motes floated before him, silence enveloping him like a weighted blanket. Except instead of anxiety-relieving, it felt suffocating. He struggled to breath when faced with the reality before him.

Euijoo had spent the night in a strip club. Worse, he was twenty-eight and working as a bartender at said strip club. He had no career goals and nowhere to turn. Once upon a time, he would have fallen into the arms of the love of his life, but no longer.

He clasped and unclasped his hands at his sides, taking another look at the dark room before heading for the door. The outside met him, bright and glaring.

Chapter 3

“Another drink on the floor and you’ll have to start paying,” Maki said, laughing as Euijoo bent to pick up the Maraschino cherries covering the floor.

Euijoo took a steady breath, his hands shaking. This was no less than the fifth drink he’d spilled while practicing. He’d spent all week doing this and couldn’t get the hang of it. By next week they were knocking his training wheels off and he was somehow supposed to ride the bike without any knowledge of how to do so.

He was pathetic, but he already knew that.

The cherries were like slimy slugs in his hands and he tried to swallow the gagging back down his throat. He stood and came face to face with Maki, who wore a giant smile. 

“You’re hopeless.” 

Euijoo rolled his eyes. “I know.”

Maki shoved a stack of napkins against his chest. “Clean up. We’ll at least get you quizzed on the beer brands before tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night. The big night that no one would shut up about. The night that Xiang, or X, or whatever his name was, would shake his ass on the stage in front of the bar.

Euijoo looked at the pole. He’d never seen a man strip. His heart raced at the thought, a storm stirring low in his abdomen, but he cut the feelings off. There wasn’t room for them. Not with the grief and longing he carried around everyday.

He tossed the wad of cherries and now bright pink napkins into the trash, the plastic bag crinkling as the ball hit the bottom. Maki shoved him over to the coolers, taking out one of each can and bottle that sat inside. A myriad of colors sat before him—blue cans and brown bottles with yellow branding and plastic red cups—but the world still felt grey. Maki’s voice continued to be a muted gold, barely any shine, and Euijoo was stuck with eyesight that had a permanent monochrome filter.

The fuzzy pink clock above the door—kitschy and somewhat out of place—struck noon. The men who stood outside filtered in, Fuma checking IDs for any newcomers. Euijoo turned up his upper lip at their greasy composures and ragged clothing. They came multiple days a week and sat right beneath the stage, hands twitching while they watched the girls dance.

“Don’t look at them like that or they won’t give you a tip.” Maki nudged his shoulder. 

Euijoo whipped his head toward him. “I don’t understand why they’re at a strip club in the middle of the day.”

Maki raised his brows. “Last I checked, you are also at a strip club in the middle of the day.”

“Shut up.” Euijoo flipped him off before turning away to fiddle with the cans and bottles of drinks in front of him. Who was he to judge, really? At least these men had money. A purpose. Euijoo was a dandelion seed who’d gotten stuck. When he’d blown away, he didn’t follow the rest of the seeds. He fell down, down to the ground, stomped on and forgotten.

Maki launched back into his lesson on the difference between cocktails in a can versus cocktails made by the staff, but his voice faded in and out. Euijoo’s attention was caught on the stack of fliers at the end of the bar. He reached over and grabbed one, leaning both elbows on the bar to read.

A sculpted body hung upside down from the pole. Based on the lighting, it was the pole directly across from the bar he stood at now. The main stage. The body—man—wore a fishnet top, cropped to show his belly button, and low waisted pants. There were ribbons on the side, presumably so the man could pull at the string until it let loose and fell away, exposing honed muscle and soft skin. 

Euijoo couldn’t see his face. It was facing away from the camera, hanging down on the other side of the pole. He wanted to know what the face that had captured the hearts of so many looked like. What moves he could possibly have that would elicit crowds large enough to need extra staffing,

Underneath the image was a name, (X)iang, but Euijoo had already registered that. It was the only dancer they promoted like this. 

“Follow our newsletter for announcements on when X will perform!”

 Euijoo scrunched up his nose. Bastard didn’t have a schedule either. X was probably a prick, making people scramble around his random appearances.

He crumbled up the flier and threw it into the trashcan under the bar. It missed bouncing off the black plastic and back across the floor, where it rolled underneath one of the alcohol shelves. Poetic, really, that he wasn’t even able to throw things away correctly at his new job.

It wasn’t for not trying, either. He tried so hard. Euijoo tried so fucking hard he hadn’t slept (which definitely wasn’t because he was still sleeping at the strip club). No matter what he did, another drink ended up down the front of his shirt, or poured over his shoes. Or he put bourbon into a cocktail that called for rum. Or, today, spilled half a jar of Maraschino cherries on the floor. 

Maki smacked the back of his head. “Dude, I need you to pay attention.”

So Euijoo did. He tried to, at least.

***

The music beat down on Euijoo like a mallet, booming from the speakers directly above the bar. It made it almost impossible to hear the voices of the people directly in front of him, but oh well.

It’s not like he’d get their order correct anyway.

One of the dancers—he couldn’t remember her name—was on a break and wanted a cocktail. She was wearing a thong and a barely-conceling bra, her tits splayed out on the bar’s surface. He didn’t know if it was to flirt with him or just an occupational hazard, but either way, his skin was itchy and he couldn’t stop blushing.

Euijoo didn’t like girls. He’d tried, especially in college, brushing up against them at parties and bars, hoping that something would stir in his heart or, better, his dick. Despite his desperate attempts, nothing budged in his pants, and he was left with a hollow feeling in his chest.

Until he met Nicholas, at least.

Misha? Or maybe Lin was tapping her long nails on the surface, waiting impatiently for Euijoo to finish up. She chomped her gum loudly, her red lips pouting after every bubble blown. “Euijoo, hurry up! I’m going back up in ten.”

He had no idea how she knew his name. Everyone knew his name, actually. They saw him and broke out into wide grins like they’d known him a lifetime and Euijoo was left confused and dizzy, uncertain on where he stood in the mess he called his life. He’d always had a hard time socially—being prone to overstimulation would do that to anyone—so being met with such open and welcome arms was weird.

A guy with bleached blonde hair and glitter underneath his eyes sidled up beside… Tara? He had on suspenders, stockings, and Doc Martens. That was it. He fluttered his lashes at Euijoo. “Hurry up for her, why don’t you? And can you grab me some water while you’re at it?”

Euijoo looked down quickly, avoiding eye contact. The man’s voice was nasally, like a porcelain flute, cream and shiny. His hands shook as he filled a cup with ice and water and slid it across the bar. “Here you go.”

The last task on the Shirley Temple Black in front of him was the Maraschino cherries. His enemy

He opened the jar, placing it carefully onto the black mat on the bar. The bright red, sticky fruit taunted him under the multi-colored lights above, reflecting back a myriad of colors. He grit his teeth and delicately extracted a few cherries, tossing them into the glass. It was cold underneath his fingertips as he slid it over to the girl with the tits. 

“That took you a devastating amount of time to do.” The guy leaned over the bar and took his face in his hands. He turned it back and forth, squishing Euijoo’s cheeks with his thin fingers. “What brings you here, Euijoo? Bad break up? Run out of money? Drugs?”

“Quit harassing him, Yuma.” Maki walked over and clapped Euijoo on the back. “ You’re getting to know our dancers! While successfully making drinks, even.”

They all smiled at him and he rolled his eyes. The timing of it was ridiculous, like he’d stepped into a comedy routine. He was now working at a Vaudeville bar and had nowhere else to go, forced to stay chained to the drinks while he watched a trail of circus freaks parade in front of him. 

A rush of people came through the door—a gaggle of guys and girls out for a Thursday night—and came rushing for the bar. Tingles ran up Euijoo’s arms and every catastrophe over the last few days came rushing back to him. He had no idea how he was going to do this. He had no idea why he was here. Fuck a job. It was all too much.

The world spun, multi-colored lights turning into fiery explosions behind his eyelids as he fell backwards. They blinked out, one by one, and by the time they came back he was on the floor. Liquid soaked his back and his head pounded. “I thought I mopped this already.”

A blurry face popped into his field of vision. “You’re supposed to serve drinks, Euijoo. Not put on a show.” 

“Move you brat,” Maki hissed. His hands were under Euijoo’s armpits a moment later, pulling him up to a sitting position and then completely off the floor. Euijoo stumbled towards the bar and leaned against it.

“Took quite a tumble didn’t you?” Maki’s face was contorted, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh at Euijoo or just pity him. 

His stomach rolled.

“What happened?” He touched the back of his head gingerly, pulling it away to make sure the wetness in his hair wasn’t blood. 

“Group came in to order and you said ‘I’m tired’ before falling like a plank to the floor.” 

He grimaced. I’m tired meant overstimulated. I’m tired meant on the brink of panic. I’m tired was a forgone expression from childhood to explain his inability to handle the colors brought on by large crowds. His parents knew the expression, and so did his sister.

Nicholas did, too.

But they weren’t here, so he simply looked like a freak who passed out when too many people entered the room. He rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Probably haven’t eaten enough.”

“Not a problem, pretty boy. Just don’t want you to hurt your face.” Yuma winked at him. Euijoo stared back blankly, but Yuma wasn’t deterred.

“Boss said you should probably head home,” Maki said, but his ears were ringing. 

There was no home. He had two bags of belongings hidden in a corner in the back storage room and had been sleeping in one of the private lounges, waking early enough each day that Fuma wouldn’t catch him. They both knew he was there, but Fuma hadn’t said anything else to him.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Bar Luné had been slow this week. They would all leave together and then Euijoo would sneak back in and that was it. But now he was stuck, because it was packed and parties would be using the rooms and they wanted him to leave now which he could not do.

His tongue was dry and his palms were sweating. Maki and Yuma and the girl whose name he could not remember were all staring at him. They were waiting for something Euijoo didn’t have. He had very little. It was better they know now—that he offered next to nothing.

“I don’t have a home,” he said. It was the raw truth. 

But the three didn’t blink. Like he hadn’t just admitted he was homeless. That he hadn’t just admitted there was no solid, standard place for him to lay his head. 

“No problem. I’ve got a couch that folds out and an amazing gaming system,” Maki said. He laughed and it was the same muted gold, and Yuma joined in with a porcelain cream, and Euijoo wondered if, by chance, he could join their Vaudeville life and be okay.

***

Luckily for Euijoo, before Yuma was a dancer, he was a bartender. Maki was therefore able to leave with him and escort his sorry ass to his apartment.

Bar Luné wasn’t in the seediest area, but it could use…improvements. There was most certainly a drug deal in one of the alleyways and a few moans sounded from a dark corner. But it was overall clean, and that’s all Euijoo could ask for. 

“Kei runs a tight ship.” Maki patted his back as they passed another alleyway. “You’ll see some stuff outside the club, but the only thing allowed inside is alcohol. Very protective over the dancers who want a  no-touch policy, too.”

Euijoo nodded. In the flurry of his life being completely uprooted, he hadn’t thought much about the darker intricacies associated with his new job. He’d been too busy convincing himself he was lucky to have a job at all.

They travelled a few blocks before coming up to a concrete building. It wasn’t special, sitting on the corner of a dark intersection. Only multicolored neon lights lit their way, the light barely reaching up to illuminate second story windows. Across the way sat a soba restaurant and a liquor store, both busy with patrons.

Maki scanned his phone against the silver door handle. It buzzed and unlocked and he waved for Euijoo to go in. “It’s on the second floor. First apartment.”

Euijoo clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides. He was doing quite literally everything they tell you not to do in a “Stranger Danger” pamphlet, but he wasn’t sure he had options anymore. The one person who could help—his last ditch effort for support—didn’t return his call. It was for the best. He didn’t deserve a call, anyway.

He trudged up the stairs and came face to face with Maki’s apartment. He heard a beep and an unlatch. 

“I never get tired of unlocking from my phone,” Maki laughed. “I’ll add you to the app so you can have access to the locks and stuff.”

The apartment wasn’t huge. Light wood floors led directly into a u-shaped kitchen, which overlooked a tiny sitting area. There was a plasma screen far too big for the space and chords tangled in what could only be considered a fire hazard. Across the way—the very long distance of a few inches—sat the futon Maki had referred to.

Euijoo’s new bed.

“My bedroom and the bathroom are that way.” Maki pointed to the right, where Euijoo could barely see into a dark bedroom and small bathroom. “Just make yourself at home, yeah? It’s yours now too.”

“Okay…thanks.” Euijoo dropped his bags beside the couch. The only proof of a life lived. 

He dropped to his knees, opening up one of the duffel bags. He pulled out a plastic baggy with his toothbrush and face routine. The fancy shampoo bottle he’d received from his sister that he’d been saving for a special occasion. A stack of books. Finally, a box. A box whose presence made his heart rapidly beat, his stomach flip uncomfortably. He held it in his hands, finger tips digging sharply into the worn cardboard. 

Nicholas was all it read. 

Euijoo shoved the box under the couch. Out of sight, out of mind. He was really good at that.

He pulled his clothing out next. A few t-shirts and an old pair of jeans and cargo pants. A crumpled suit lay at the bottom and an old sweatshirt he hadn’t worn in ages. 

Because it was Nicholas’s.

He crumpled it up and shoved it under the couch, too. 

“Hey, is there anywhere I can store my clothes?” Euijoo called out. 

Doors slammed in Maki’s bedroom before he popped his head out. “Uh, yeah.”

He traipsed out to the sitting area and began sorting through the myriad of tangled cords underneath the TV. Euijoo couldn’t help the grin that slid onto his face as Maki continued to struggle. “Need help?”

“Nope.” Maki stood and pulled the mass of cords up into the air instead of untangling them. It revealed a small dresser. “Thought something with drawers would be helpful for organizing. Luckily for you, I’ve never organized.”

A laugh bubbled out of Euijoo’s throat. He didn’t mean to laugh—thought he’d forgotten how to. But here was this guy who had offered him his home, and was being the most sincere Euijoo had experienced in a long while, and some flavor of giddiness had cascaded over him in a massive wave.

Maki looked at him with wide eyes, bewildered, but his kind smile didn’t drop. “Get settled and we’ll pick up soba from across the street. We can come back and play Street Fighter together.”

He left the room and Euijoo ducked beneath the curtain of cords, placing his belongings into one of the empty drawers. They looked a little pitiful, just a stack of a few clothes, accessories sitting on top. Was it worthwhile to get more? To fill up the drawers in this dresser? There was no way to tell how long he would be here. What path lay ahead of him.

The drawer squeaked when he shut it. He placed the cords back, effectively shielding it, and sat down on the couch. His head still throbbed from falling to the floor, but it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. 

“Come on, let’s eat.” Maki stood by the front door.

So Euijoo followed, gratefulness for Maki bubbling like a tiny stream in his heart.

Chapter 4

Walking into the bar became less scary as the days rolled on. Euijoo didn’t even mind the fact that he still couldn’t see his feet while walking into the entrance hallway. He’d memorized the pathway well enough to only knock into the wall once. Twice on a bad day.

He stumbled out of the hallway today to complete chaos.

The entire staff ran around the large room. Dancers were up on poles cleaning the ceiling or the poles themselves. Fuma was on his hands and knees scrubbing at the stage floor. Kei had a lint roller and was running it over the velvet of every red chair. Even Yuma was on a ladder behind the bar, dusting off older bottles of liquor. 

Euijoo slid over the bar counter and plopped down behind it. “Are we gonna roll out a fucking red carpet for this guy, too?”

This guy, as in Xiang. Maki had gone on and on about him while they’d played games last night. Something about how he only stripped on the side, and he was actually a successful business man, and he was just so, so cool. Euijoo’s ears had been bleeding by the end of it. Maki had eventually taken the hint to go to bed once Euijoo had gone fully non-verbal.

But now he was dealing with the real mountain. He was already surrounded by mega-fans. The crowds would be worse later, he was told. He gulped, throat sticky.

“No red carpet, although I’m sure we could purchase one with just what he brings in on a night in.” Yuma carefully climbed down the ladder and stopped in front of him. He already had dark makeup smeared across his lids, blue contacts a shiny contrast. He was gorgeous, but Euijoo knew better. Right now, at least.

“Don’t look at me like that, pretty boy. I’ll take you straight to a private room.” 

Euijoo blew out a steady breath, hoping it would cool his hot cheeks. “What time do things usually pick up on a night he’s here?”

Yuma hummed, tapping a long finger against his chin. “Not until the evening. Maybe five?”

Euijoo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Four hours early?” 

Yuma nodded and grabbed a liquor bottle. Sake, from the label. He poured a double shot and slid it over to Euijoo. “We’re gonna go over drinks again, and I think you’ll need this.” 

He looked at the shot glass in front of him, fingers twitching. “It’s eleven am.” 

Yuma laughed. “Drink up, pretty boy. You’ll want that once I’m done with you.”

Euijoo sighed and knocked the shot back, the cool liquid smooth against his throat. He shivered, tingles running up his spine and down his arms. Yuma had brought out the strong stuff, then.

By the time it hit his stomach, he was already feeling a little looser. Yuma had him go through making the most popular drinks. Lemon Sours, Whiskey Highballs, and Chuhais all made their way across his bar, and sometimes they went into his mouth too. By the time he’d gone through their standard menu, he was more than a little buzzed. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk and sent home?” Euijoo rinsed out the glass he’d made one of the cocktails in, the cold water a relief on his hot hands.

“Nope. Just getting you to where you’ll start telling me about yourself.” Yuma hopped onto the bar, feet dangling, and looked down at Euijoo.

He narrowed his eyes at Yuma and flicked his leg. Yuma feigned pain but laughed and he sounded just like the color cream. It flashed hazy across Euijoo’s vision before dissipating as quickly as it came. They always did, especially now, when the world was void of any real color.

“What do you want to know?” Playing Yuma’s game was better than whatever hole he was about to fall into.

“What happened to bring you here?” 

Euijoo leaned back on the back bar. The worn wood was gritting beneath his palms. “I lost my job. Then they kicked me out of my apartment. That’s it.”

Yuma stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope. There’s more to this. That’s too mild for you to end up at Bar Luné.”

Ire lit under Euijoo’s chin. Mild. “I’m sorry. Being jobless and homeless isn’t enough of a rock bottom for you?” 

Yuma shook his head. “If you weren’t dealing with something else, the job wouldn’t affect you. You’d have a contingency plan. You’d find a place to stay and have savings to live off of.

“But something has been bothering you for a long time. It’s beat you down so flat that when life kicked you again there wasn’t anything left worth getting back up for. So…” Yuma waved his hand, gesturing around the room.

Euijoo crossed his arms over his chest. It was like Yuma had cut him open with a crude knife. He hadn’t consented to open-heart surgery, yet here was Yuma poking and prodding at it like he had a right. 

But part of his heart liked being out in the open. Enjoyed the attention after being shadowed for so long.

“I went through a bad break up. Almost two years ago now.” Euijoo kicked the floor with the toe of his tennis shoe. “Haven’t recovered. Not sure I ever will.”

Yuma clicked his tongue. “You should talk to Xiang. He knows all about shitty breakups.”

Euijoo glanced at the center stage, with its shiny black floor and bright sparkling pole. How horrible did a break up have to be for a successful business man to turn to stripping?

“Are you guys really just standing here?” Maki turned the corner and tossed a t-shirt at Euijoo’s face. “Put this on. Waists out for well-paying customers.”

He stared at the very tiny t-shirt in his hand and then held it up to his chest. His waist would definitely be out. More than that, probably, and he’d worn his low-rise jeans today, too.

Yuma clapped giddily. “Ah! You’re truly a Bare Luné staff member now. I feel like we need to give you a stripper name. We all have them.”

“I have no intention of stripping, Yuma.”

“Not yet, at least.” Yuma pinched his cheeks and warmth filled his chest.

***

The crowd ascended right at five.

There was a line outside the door, and much to his disdain, Euijoo was placed directly by the entrance. As soon as the bodies filtered in, they came straight to him for a drink. The alcohol had cut some of his anxiety, but not all of it, so he was still buzzing with panic as the line continued to grow. At a certain point he was mostly focusing on not passing out.

Maki stood nearby, manning the bar with ease. If Euijoo looked like he was going to flip out, Maki slid the glass towards himself to finish off the drink, and Euijoo took the next order and hoped for something else. Maki only faltered when Harua—the other bartender—walked in. He knocked over a cup of stirrers and apologized profusely, his cheeks the color of the red lights lining the stage. 

Euijoo couldn’t hide his grin, and he got a strong kick to the shin because of it. It radiated up his leg, but the laughter lightened the weight on his chest.

He was on cloud nine when two girls came up to the bar to take shots with him. They were pretty, with fluttering lashes and shiny hair. Even if he didn’t like girls, he couldn’t help but blush at their attention and the way they leaned across the bar to point at his exposed abdomen. “So yummy,” they said, licking their rose colored lips.

Euijoo hadn’t realized he’d also be a part of the show. He loved it.

It was nearing nine and Yuma was spinning around the pole on the stage in front of him. He was in nothing but a white button down and small black briefs. Euijoo had never seen so many hip thrusts in his life. If he wasn’t so busy, the sight would go straight to his crotch. 

“He’s gonna be late. I know it.” Maki took a rag from a bucket under Euijoo and wiped down the bar. They finally had a lull in the rush as the time for Xiang to perform grew nearer.

“Why do you say that?” Euijoo raised his brows. Maki had talked so highly of him the night before, and now sounded morose.

“Because he’s always late. That’s his fatal flaw.” Maki tossed the rag back in the bucket. It made a wet plop in the inch of water sitting in the bottom. “It’s just a pain for the dancers on stage when the crowd gets antsy.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Euijoo glanced toward the dark hallway, wondering if he would catch the mysterious figure running in at the last minute.

Ten past nine came and went and Xiang still had not shown his face. Yuma was down to just his briefs on stage, sweat dripping down his temple, and Euijoo’s heart lurched.

Stripping, evidently, was not easy.

Shoes striking concrete filtered out from the hallway. A figure rushed past—too quickly for Euijoo to see his face—and struggled through the crowd to the stage.

“You’re late, X! Again!” Maki sighed, popped open a bottle of beer, and took a swig.

Yuma hopped off the stage and came over to the bar. “Water?” he croaked.

Euijoo filled up a cup and slid it across the bar. Yuma tipped it back, chugging it, and slammed it back onto the counter. Euijoo filled it again. “You did great,” he said, blushing. 

Yuma winked at him. “I did it all for you, pretty boy.”

The lights in the room dimmed, only the multicolored runway lights lit. Euijoo could just see Xiang’s outline backlit on the stage. His back was to the bar when the lights came up again, dim and smokey as he took off his suit jacket. His tie followed next, flung into the crowd and caught by giggling women, before his shirt fell to the floor, too.

Xiang’s back was revealed and want stirred low in Euijoo’s belly. It was broad, smooth, and muscular, rippling as he grabbed the pole and began to spin. His body contorted, practically levitating as he spun around the pole. Between one blink and the next, his pants were gone, and although he still couldn’t see his face, Euijoo got a full view of his abdomen.

Euijoo gasped and roamed his eyes across the pale expanse of skin. Matching cybersigil tattoos sat low on his hipbones, black and sharp against pale skin. Euijoo traced his skin, too, and imagined the needle baring down into his hip bones. Would the pain feel good? Was it worth it?

Silver glittered beside the pole, a small nipple ring flashing on another spin. He couldn’t stop watching Xiang’s undulating hips or the barely concealing thong. His cock jerked at the idea that it slipped. 

Cash flew through the air. Xiang bent over, ass out, and picked up a handful before tucking it into the black fabric at his waist.

Euijoo’s jaw hung open so far it hurt. His pants pulled tight and the urge to run out of the room rose by the minute.

It wasn’t until Xiang stopped spinning and faced the bar that the light finally hit his face. Dark hair. Full lips. Intense eyes. The scar on his arm was so obvious, now, too, and Euijoo’s heart beat a million miles a minute. His hands shook violently, bile rising in his throat at the sight before him. “That’s my ex.”

“Yeah, that’s X!” Yuma grinned and clapped his hands, letting out a whoop. 

Euijoo’s control over his body disappeared. The glass he held slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, shattering at his feet into a million tiny little fragments. He couldn’t even look, unable to tear his eyes away from the man in front of him. The man who flinched at the sound of breaking glass but kept going, grinding against the pole as cheers continued to roar around them.

“Get yourself together, dude.” Maki elbowed him, a shit-eating grin on his face. Like it was funny that Euijoo was such a mess. And maybe it was to them, because they didn’t know that this was the worst thing he had ever seen. 

***

“Come on guys, who shattered glass while I was up there?”

It was well past midnight and Euijoo was underneath the bar cleaning up a mess he’d made. The Maraschino cherries and he had another tussle after he’d gone into shock. The thick syrup refused to come off the already sticky floor. He was happy to continue scrubbing at the floor, though, because that voice belonged to someone he didn’t want to see.

Maki looked down at him, brows raised. Euijoo made a cut-it-out motion with his hand, pleading with his very round eyes for Maki to cover for him. He didn’t have to know why.

He was thankfully already in the “bro” category for Maki and had fallen under the rules of bro-code. “That was me. You can’t say shit, anyways. You were late again.”

Euijoo curled further into a ball on the floor. Maybe he could shrink into a tiny bug and crawl his way out of the building and simply never come back. Homelessness was better than this, actually. He would rather sleep outside than have to talk to Xiang. Or X.

Or really, Wang Nicholas, his ex-boyfriend.

Nicholas laughed and it was a rich red like strawberries. Euijoo had to shut his eyes to keep the color there. He’d been living in a life of black and white and now the source of all of his color was here and he couldn’t—shouldn’t—have him.

“Where’d Euijoo go?” Yuma called. 

Euijoo breathed deep and held it in. He could always cut off his own oxygen. That would definitely work, right?

“Euijoo?” 

Tears pinpricked his eyes, the refrigerator of beer in front of him turning hazy. Here he was, sitting on the nasty floor of the bar of a strip club, near tears because he just heard his ex-boyfriend say his name after two years. His hands shook and he balled them close to his chest, trying his hardest to collapse in on himself and disappear.

“Yeah, the new guy. Tall, big eyes, pretty. Can’t miss him. Except now, I guess.”

It was silent for a moment. Too long, and Euijoo looked up to find Maki pointing down at him and doing his best to mouth something without Euijoo’s hearing. And rather than letting Nicholas hop the bar to kick him while already down, he ought to stand on his own two feet and take it.

He unfurled, knees popping like candy as he stood. He took a heavy breath, the air burning his lungs, and turned to face the person he’d run from two years ago. 

Nicholas’s face was blank. His jaw pulsed, like he kept grinding his teeth, but other than that it was completely placid. And that was more than Euijoo deserved, truly. Euijoo did not deserve Nicholas, and that’s why he’d left.

“I can’t fucking look at you,” Nicholas said through gritted teeth. He stormed off, heading down the long, dark hallway. 

Maki and Yuma both looked at him wide-eyed. Euijoo rubbed his hands across his face, which hurt from keeping the tears in. “I’ll go talk to him.”

He hopped the bar and ventured down what now felt like the path to hell. Down, down he went, hands scraping up against damp walls, before the night opened up before him. Nicholas stood outside the door, head in his hands, and rather than say anything, he just let the door fall shut. It was loud in the awkward silence.

“Go away, Euijoo.” His voice was muffled behind his hand, but Euijoo still heard it.

Euijoo heard everything. He saw everything.

He’d spent an entire life seeing colors when people spoke. Different hues for different people, always in shades of black or white or grey. Then, five years ago, Euijoo heard someone that looked like a kaleidoscope. Every tone, every word, was another layer to the perfect image that was Nicholas. Euijoo’s malfunctioning senses served as a sort of mood ring. He was enthralled by it. He loved it.

Euijoo's stomach lurched as he looked at the man before him. The man who looked older and more rugged, his suit crumpled and wrinkled as it hung off his shoulders. And yet…he still was that young guy Euijoo met at the bar when they were twenty-three. He was still the same guy who made Euijoo’s heart beat falter. Whose voice brought a rainbow to Euijoo’s cloudy, grey skies.

“I wanted to check on you.” Euijoo rubbed his hands on his jeans. He sounded as lame as he felt. His pulse was heavy in his temple and he wished he had a bottle of liquor to get through this.

“Check on me? You” Nicholas pointed at Euijoo, “wanted to check on me?” He pointed back at himself.

Euijoo gulped. This was going poorly.

“You’ve had two years to check on me, Euijoo. Two fucking years. You left a fucking note on the kitchen table saying you were sad to end the relationship and disappeared.” Nicholas was shaking, hands clenched at his sides.

A horse kicked Euijoo in the chest. The raw cadence in Nicholas’s voice elicited something dark like red wine in Euijoo’s mind. It coated Nicholas’s body like an angry aura, like something indistinguishable from Nicholas himself. Nicholas was red. Nicholas was angry. 

Angry at Euijoo for what he’d done.

“I’m not…” Euijoo wrung his hands, trying to distract from the way his chest was caving in. “I didn’t know you would be here tonight. I’m sorry.”

Nicholas’s face fell stoic again—placid and unmoving. “Of all the places for you to get a job, it had to be here?”

“I didn’t have options.” Euijoo kicked the toe of his shoe into the asphalt, shy as he stared down at the road. The vision of sitting on the curb, drunk and slurring into the phone, flashed across his mind. “The voicemail…”

“Deleted it.” Nicholas looked to the sky, neck straining. Euijoo watched. He’d once been very familiar with that neck.

“I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll take off nights you come to the bar, or I’ll hide in the back. You won’t know I’m here at all.” He might as well be on his knees with the way he begged.

Nicholas looked at him then, gaze sharp and knowing. He pressed his full lips into a line. “I will always know that you’re there, Byun Euijoo.” Nicholas turned and walked away without another word.

As Nicholas’s figure grew smaller, the realization hit Euijoo and he blinked. It wasn’t a hard hit, more like a pinch, as if to say, “See? I told you so.” The bubbling feeling beneath his skin, the colors that were still associated just with Nicholas…He still had feelings for him, but he guessed he’d already known that, deep down. Seeing him made it so much more real. 

The color red held in his mind the rest of the night.