āwrite about a character after a New Years partyā
Dan didn't like New Years parties all that much, but the fear of missing out compelled him to go nonetheless. There was just so much drinkingĀ involved in the holiday season, it was exhausting - from the idiotic twelve pubs tradition to the lame office parties, Dan had had just about enough. But clearly not enough that it would stop him from going and trying to have a good time - besides, he had a Tinder date lined up, but while she looked a 10 online, her personality said 4. But then who went on Tinder looking for personality? Dan, apparently.
Dan just wanted something real, someone to keep him going for more than one night, someone to talk to and someone to love. But, sure, what was he hoping for at a New Years party in a club? You didn't meet decent people at clubs, everyone knew that. New Years parties in themselves were boring as fuck - sure everyone was hyped and excited before twelve, but once midnight arrived, and the couples kissed and the shots were downed, the novelty wore off within about three minutes.
Dan realised pretty quickly that the previous few New Years parties had all followed the same format, and he was tired of it. His date was pretty wasted already, but she was a waste of space anyway, and Dan was a bit tipsy himself - he left her at the bar after giving some excuse about feeling sick.
And it was this way that Dan found himself kicking a stone down the busy street, crowded with revellers; a taxi here, waiting patiently for the late-night animals; a drunk girl there, holding her heels in her hands and being supported by her friends. He kicked the stone further. He was sick of all the noise, all the clutter, all the drama and buzz of nights out - the pre-drinking, the infuriating drunkards, the shenanigans of fearless men in their 20's with liquid courage. He kicked the stone further. Every night out felt like a broken record to Dan. He kicked the stone further.
Dan stopped abruptly: it took a moment for him to register the colourful rainbow lights outside the city's only gay bar, the fluttering by his ear as the pride flag hanging by the door. It took even longer for him, in his inebriated state, to notice he'd just kicked the pebble into the leg of a patron vaping outside the club doors.
"Sorry," he hastily said, sobering up, "accident."
The stranger - another man in his 20's, with pink streaks in his floppy hair and a deep black leather jacket - kicked the pebble back at Dan.
"You'd want to be careful," he said, "sure that could be seen as homophobic."
Dan laughed awkwardly. "Just an accident, mate - I'm not homophobic, I swear."
"Ah." The stranger took another puff from his e-cigarette, the smoke rising slowly in the cold air, mixing with his breath. "I'm gay through and through. About as straight as the Mississippi."
Dan cast his mind far back to geography class, his brows furrowed - the stranger drew a squiggly line in the air, a meandering imprint on Dan's eyes. He nodded slowly.
"I wouldn't have said bi from lookin' at you," the other man said. Dan cocked his head. "I'd have said... pan. Maybe."
"Well I definitely would've said gay from looking at you," Dan replied. "It's the pink hair. That's super gay."
The stranger laughed, a full, loud one like a bark. It made Dan chuckle.
"Dan? Chris." Chris extended his hand. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"I... bid you adieu," Dan replied, trying to sound formal, but then he realised what "bid adieu" meant. "I mean... not goodbye, I mean... hi."
Chris laughed again, a bit too hard for the lameness of the joke. "So how do you earn your daily bread, Dan?"
"I'm in training to be a Garda - yourself?"
"I own this place," Chris said, pointing his e-cig at the bar behind them. "A Garda, huh? What compelled you to pick that particular profession?"
"Oh, you know, the uniform," Dan joked, and Chris grinned. "For real - since I was young, I always wanted to be one. My dad was one. Hope that doesn't make me a sheep."
"Not at all." Chris cocked his head in the direction of his bar. "Sure wasn't my own father a landlord himself? - admittedly, he didn't own a gay bar."
Dan nodded slowly, feeling that the conversation was reaching its untimely death. He asked, "What kind of bar was it, so?"
"You're not really interested - it was a small-town pub and hotel."
"Well that's boring." Dan scrunched up his face in mock-disapproval, and Chris chuckled.
A pause, a beat. In the background a drunk couple were getting a bit too close. Both men saw it, and Chris pretended to gag.
"Straights - gross," he remarked, glancing at his watch. "It's nearly time-"
"What flavour is that?" Dan asked, pointing to the e-cig Christ held between delicate, long fingers.
"Oh - uh - mulled wine. Festive," Chris replied. He hesitated, eyes glancing from his watch to Dan. "Do you want to try it?"
Dan didn't smoke - someone had offered him a cigarette was a teenager and it had nearly made him sick, so he averted anything that involved inhaling fumes - but he didn't want to look a fool in front of Chris. He took the e-cig carefully, nodded absentmindedly as Chris told him how to use it, and then, slowly, took a careful puff.
He felt the vapour tickle the back of his throat, inhaled as deep as he could - it was just like smelling mulled wine, except for the crackling sound from the device. It was much, much better than tobacco.
He handed it back, nodding - "That's nice. Very... aromatic. Festive."
Chris took another puff and then pocketed the e-cig. He looked at his watch again and said, "Fifteen minutes to midnight - I have to go back in and prep for the countdown."
Dan's face fell - was it really time? Could he not just have another few minutes with this mysterious, fabulous stranger?
"Come on in - drinks are on the house," Chris added.
"Absolutely! - sure, I need to round off 2018 with one good deed, at least."
Chris reached out, grabbing Dan's hand and pulling him into the doors of the bar. The next fifteen minutes were a blur - colour, alcohol, excitement, music thump-thump-thumping in his ears and through the floor and through his chest, like a knife. Chris poured Dan a beer and then left him at the bar, saying he'd be back for the countdown. Dan drank the beer quickly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his eyes - he watched the dancers, the couples, the gaggles of flamboyant friends, living for the moment. He wished he could join them, be spontaneous like them. He kept drinking.
Ten minutes later and the music quietened, the lights brightened, and all attention was drawn to one wall, where there was projected a 60-second countdown. And there stood Chris - changed from his dark shirt to a bright pink one with the name of the bar and "2019" printed in bright, red letters.
He whetted the audience's appetite, thanking them for spending the night with his bar, promising one free drink to everyone, and briefly alluding to previous New Years parties, earning laughter from the drunker patrons.
He added, in a more sombre note, "Unfortunately, as you all know, this is the last and final New Years party we'll have the pleasure of hosting here - but let that not take away from the memories we've made, the friendships and relationships that have been born within these walls-
"Get on with it!" a bartender hollered, and Chris laughed out loud.
"Now, let the countdown begin - ten... nine... eight..."
The patrons shouted out the numbers, getting louder and louder as they got closer to midnight - Dan shouted at the top of his voice - suddenly, the room erupted in pounding music, glasses clinking and clapping, another New Year done and dusted. The bartender poured him and Dan two shots; they clinked their glasses and toasted the celebration.
"Is this place shutting down?" Dan shouted into the bartender's ear, leaning over the bar.
"Another two months-" the bartender indicated with his fingers "-not making enough money."
Chris appeared next to the bartender, started immediately pouring drinks for patrons who wanted to claim a free one. So everyone was getting free drinks, not just Dan, apparently. He smiled at Dan, a slow smile that wasn't sincere, and quickly looked away.
Dan cast his eyes to the room, drinking in the atmosphere like he had that shot - unlike any other club after midnight, this one was still buzzing, and it looked like it would be until the early hours. He didn't know what to do with himself, since he only knew Chris and Chris was busy - so he ordered another beer and took a few films for his Snapchat story, killing time.
At around half twelve, a hand yanked his phone out of his hand and Chris stood in its place, very close to Dan. He replaced Dan's phone to his front pocket and took the empty glass too, placing it atop the bar.
"Can't have you all alone on New Years," Chris shouted in Dan's ear, his breath fanning Dan's skin and making his hair stand up. "Dance with me."
Chris was a finer dancer by far than Dan - he put his entire personality, all of his energy into the cleanest, slickest moves Dan had seen in a long time. His body flowed like a river, making Dan suddenly self-conscious about his own awkward stumbling and clapping. Chris didn't judge him, though - he encouraged Dan, even trying to teach him one or two easier moves, which Dan would be sure to forget in the morning. Their bodies were so close, their hands brushing once or twice, the air felt electric - Chris's eyes were not shying away from looking Dan up and down.
After a few songs, and even with the energy lent to him by alcohol, Dan felt his fatigue catch up with him, and he pulled Chris off the dance floor to the bar.
"I have to go," he shouted, "early start tomorrow!"
"Thanks for stopping by," Chris shouted back. "See you here again, yeah?"
"Alright, then." Chris's dark eyes lingered, as if waiting for something from Dan, waiting for a sign, a signal, a move. He put his hand on Dan's elbow, gently squeezed, and Dan felt it through his whole body, like the bass. "Good luck!"
And he turned, swiftly, not giving Dan time to respond, to ask for his number or even say goodbye.
Dan picked up a beer mat as a memento and left too, shivering violently as soon as the cold, cold New Years air hit him. It was a relief from the sweaty atmosphere inside, but enveloped him uncaringly, and he immediately wanted to go back inside.
He walked on, the freezing wind making his shirt flap behind him, hands buried deep in his pockets. His thumb traced the edge of the beer mat, his thoughts still firmly on Chris and that enigmatic smile, that hypnotic dance. Was it madness to think there was something there? Sure, Chris was attractive, and maybe that's all it was - but the way he'd touched his elbow, the pleading look in his eyes told Dan it wasn't one-sided. Chris even gave him free drinks - but everyone else got the same. Even so... Dan was sick of waiting for the other person to make a move, sick of not being spontaneous and depending on the wants and intents of others. He played a role in his life too, surely?
He stopped by a streetlamp, fumbled around his pockets for a pen, and hastily scribbled his name and number on the beer mat - then he dashed back to the club, flashed his ID at the bouncer, and scouted the dance floor for Chris. He'd recognise that dance from a mile off, so where was he? Panic arose in him - what if it was a misunderstanding, what if Chris was just a flirt by nature and that's how he was with everyone? - Dan had known his fair share of gay men like that.
It took him a minute to remember that Chris wouldn't be on the dance floor since he owned the place - so he pushed his way through the revellers to the bar, finding Chris elegantly making a cocktail for a waiting patron. Dan watched, admiring the care Chris put in to making drinks, the delicacy with which he handled the ingredients.
Chris slid the glass over the bar to the customer, put the cash in the till, and turned to the next customer - Dan. At first Chris looked surprised, jumped a bit, and then a wide smile broke out, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
"Forget something, stranger?" he asked, straining to be heard over the music.
"To give you this," Dan shouted, and handed Chris the beer mat. Chris laughed, pocketing it quickly.
"Call me," Dan mouthed, putting his hand to his ear as if it was a phone.
