unintentional coffee dates; (Yixing & Larry)
Clubs, dancing, flirting, drinks, rinse and repeat. The iteration of it should've been tiring, but something about the slow yet gradual deterioration of his liver, and the loss of self-awareness caused by the alcohol he inevitably consumed brought peace to his mind. To his thoughts, to the life he was slowly leaving behind as his common sense spiraled out of control. He wasn't Kim Raehwan anymore, he was Rae. At least, that's how every one of his acquaintances and dance partners referred to him as, no matter how many times he said his name was Larry.
Not everything about his trips to every club within walking distance was complete poison to him. On occasion, he would chat up and dance with someone who would easily catch his interest far more than the alcohol readily available at the bar. The feeling of a body pressed against his and the sound of amused laughter at his lame flirting made him forget, just for a while, that Larry wasn't at the club to escape but rather to enjoy and have fun. Alcohol forgotten, all that mattered with his companion for the night. This was very rare, however, as the highest percentile of his one-night companions weren't interested in conversation. Those who were were the ones he could never forget--mostly because the lack of alcohol in his system made it hard. Still, even those rare finds weren't ones he ever saw again, or at least not outside the bar scene.
That was the exact situation he encountered that Friday morning, two months and several days after he last touched a drink, or stepped foot at a chaotic party. Larry Kim was officially back in town, and to make himself reacquainted with home, he was out on his daily strolls. This was his new routine; wake up no later than 10am, take the dogs out for a walk, then wander about the streets after making a short stop by the café just down the block, Sweet Memories Cafe. He would pick up his morning tea and whatever pastry the girl at the counter would convince him into buying, then be on his way for whatever else.
Except, as he strolled into the café that day, he spotted a face. A familiar face he wouldn't forget no matter how much time passed, a face that was the one in fifty people Rae--no, Larry--ignored the tempting drink in his hand to instead sweet talk into dancing with him. The most embarrassing part of the encounter was that he recalled every small detail of it, except for the name of the club they were at, and the name of the man. For some inexplicable reason, a dumb sort of smile curled at his lips as he approached the counter and asked to speak with the busy barista.
Once he was face to face with the former, Larry blurted out what he still remembered to be his first words to him, "Fancy meeting you here. Come here often, or is it just my lucky day?"
