Satine | KTH

44. Je t'aime

"I don't see him..."

"That's because he's in jail."

The man's eyes bulged and then he sped off, mumbling something under his breath that made Satine splutter. She had been called a bunch of different things in her life, but he sure did have a potty mouth.

She watched him walk down one of the narrow streets opposite, finding his physique admirable. She could look, not touch. Though it didn't take long for her heart to sink. The clothes he wore were somewhat familiar. Leather jacket, skinny jeans, biker boots. The new decade had transformed the once grunge aesthetic that made the nineties and Satine missed it terribly – or the people who came with it.

She jumped out of her chair, finding it difficult to keep up in her stiletto boots as he disappeared down one of the alleys. She had to see where he was heading, hoping to God it was somewhere that would spark a memory of Dynaco or Freddies.

Bitter smoke from burning car tires filled her nose and burned her eyes as she passed some sketchy-looking buildings.

"Il N'y A Que Des Thons Dans Cette Boîte, On Se Casse?" Yelled two men appearing through the haze filling the sidewalk. It was getting dark, too dark for someone like Satine to be out roaming the streets alone.

Squinting through tear-filled eyes, she could just about see whatshisname walking into a bar with a flickering neon sign reading Dr Feelgood Rock Bar.

Even though the exterior looked nothing like the ones she and her crow would hang out in till the early hours of the morning (it looked way too pristine), Satine couldn't help but rush in. There was something familiar about the place, something rustic. Maybe it was the dim yellow lighting or the row of booths occupying the far corner of the room. Whatever it was, she felt the ache instantly.

A vast array of conversations were held in loud voices, all of them competing with the rock music that dominated the atmosphere. The crowd was bustling, tourists for the most part, though unlike Satine who was dressed preppy and cool, they wore the types of clothes suited to the vibe. Which only sparked her homesickness even more. Worn-out Levi's', band tees and wacky hair – she remembered those days.

Men, probably around the age of thirty, clung to the bar stalls like thirsty animals, engaging in thoughtless banter with the barmaids in hopes of a free drink. Yoongi used to be the worst for things like that, the memory of him taking the piss out of Bartender Dan made Satine let out a laugh.

And you know what her laugh did to the opposite sex.

Eyes. Eyes everywhere turned to the redhead covering her mouth in embarrassment. Their curious glances changed into subtle raises of the eyebrows and cheeky grins that only made Satine want to yawn. Men were so predictable nowadays.

Ignoring them, she settled beside the only man who didn't treat her like a piece of meat, his head was rested against the bar top and his fingers were closed into fists.

Okay, so maybe not the friendliest of options.

"I read that when I first arrived here," Satine announced sweetly after the man began to use the tourist flyer as a coaster for his whiskey. "Pause Café is really good, nothing too crazy. Simple food." It was one of the only places the stranger hadn't crossed off the list.

No reply.

"Though," her gaze dropped to his hoodie and baggy jeans, "no offence, you do look a bit rough. I'm not sure if they'll let you in." It wasn't meant to come across as an insult, but she could understand the confusion.

"Stop talking to me," he mumbled into his palm covering his face.

"But you're so approachable?" Satine couldn't help but enjoy a bit of teasing. It had been a long time since someone had piqued her interest enough for her to crack out some sarcasm.