NYE
It’s painfully cold, absurdly so, every time the door to the bar opens a wave of the icy air flies in and the patrons turn to stare with enmity at the person who dared to come or go - a small little hole in the wall, unpretentious and usually forgotten but tonight it’s already had heavy traffic. Gabe watches the kids, they must be barely legal, come in and out, in their tight jeans and their crazy hair and vaguely he remembers being that young a decade or so ago.
He shifts in his seat and orders another drink, a gin and tonic, he shouldn’t really, he shouldn’t hit it too hard. Booze is always a trigger with him with everything else, too much and he starts to cycle or hit the harder stuff, or both, and besides he hasn’t got the next weeks rent - not to mention he’s dreading what the heat will cost when it comes - he left the heat on for the fucking cats. Talk about a soft touch. Anyway, it’s his birthday - New Year’s to boot. Fuck it, he orders the drink and makes it a double.
A guy he’s seen around a few times offers to buy the next - he says no - and Gabe realises he’s wondering how it would look to Julien if he got here and this guy was buying him a drink. That makes Gabe vaguely uncomfortable that he cares. It’s not like Julien’s committed to buying him drinks - it’s not like Julien’s committed to anything, right?
And yet he knows he dressed for him, black shirt, open just enough and tight in all the right places - charcoal pants just the same. Dressed up just enough. Gabe finishes his drink.