THE BAR

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December 28th, 1980

                                       ♡︎

Diane sat restlessly at the bar on the corner of some street she had no interest remembering the name of. She sat there for what seemed like hours with her fingers tapping against the cold, wood counter. Her eyes momentarily looked out the window at the pale white snow that was falling almost perfectly from the sky. That's the things in life that excited her. Nothing about this place excited her, like it would most people. Diane's head hung low as the sea of chatter got louder every time she breathed in. Her hair was messily parted to the right side of her head giving her a rough and "don't talk to me" look.

Why was she here at this place she so amply hated? Diane's so-called friends told her it would be "the best" and "a blast" but it was anything but for her. They had abandoned her within 3 seconds of being at the bar, they must of really wanted her to go with. Diane's thoughts were directed on the fact that she was out of place here, and it would just be better to go on to her apartment. With this, Diane slowly propped herself up and swung her legs over the seat. In the midst of this, her arm knocked over the bottle of alcohol just to the right of her.

Diane brought her hand to her face, everything just hated her today didn't it? Diane didn't even turn to face the person who's drink she so carelessly knocked over and shattered into millions of pieces. She just bent down and started picking it all up. Her hands moved in a messy fashion all over the glass which, with her luck, ended with her getting sliced right across her palm.

"Shit." Diane said holding her injured palm to her chest and biting her lip. She could feel the warm blood just spilling out of her. Could this day have gotten any worse.

"L-let me help you. Wouldn't want you cutting yourself again, would we?" A voice cut her out of her self pity and she raised her head to be met with a pair of sparkling brown eyes. Diane's spine straightened in seconds and she tried her hardest not to blush at the man.

"I- I guess not." Diane replied with a little laugh. The boy started picking the rest of the brown bottle up and threw it in the trash without a problem. Diane felt stupid for cutting herself so recklessly. The boy stood up and extended his right hand out to Diane still stupidly sitting on the cold floor. Without hesitation, Diane took his offer and slid her hand in his. Diane stood up, dusted her knees off with her free hand, her other aching and bleeding.

"I- um, I'm very sorry for spilling- well, breaking your drink. I'll buy you another one." Diane offered still upset with herself for knocking it over. The boy shook his head as he led her further towards the back of the bar.

"It's quite alright. I'm not upset." The boy answered and Diane mouthed a simple "oh" but was struck it's confusion when she wondered where she was being taken.

"How do you know what's back here?" Diane asked him carefully. There want an answer for a couple seconds but finally the silence was broken.

"I know my way around here. I used to work the door." He informed. Diane didn't speak back but nodded in response as the boy pulled out a small red box with a cross on it. Diane smiled at his thoughtfulness, and sat up on the back counter. The boy inched closer very cautiously and took her hand in his.

The smooth, dampened cloth moved over her cut carefully as the boy tried not to hurt her in anyway. Diane flinched so lightly, and the boy retracted the cloth immediately.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm being a baby." Diane said running her other hand through her hair. The boy smiled warmly and continued to help her. Diane felt bad, he didn't cut her, she should be taking care of herself.

"What's your name?" Diane asked out of the blue. The boy raised his head to look into her eyes again. Diane got lost for a split second....just looking.

"Nig- John. Sorry." John said with a slight stutter. He was still getting used to his change in name. John shook his head slightly and broke out of his thoughts.

"And yours?" He asked putting the tan bandaid wrap around her cut, Diane knew it would be a bitch taking off later.

"Diane Walsh."

"Beautiful name." John complimented her cheekily. Diane gave up on her containment and blushed a shade of crimson red. John pretended not to notice her face turning red and just giggled lightly.

"Thank you." Diane said quietly. John nodded and moved away so she could hop down. Diane forgot she even got cut again, as she just looked over her shoulder at him as she walked back to the front. John smiled proudly, at the fact that he didn't embarrass himself this time. He didn't know that Diane was thinking the same thing. At least she didn't embarrass herself this time.

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋, john taylorWhere stories live. Discover now