The sound of billiard balls breaking draws him from his muted thoughts, eyes casting across the room as his fingers tighten around the glass in his hand. The rushing feel of mixed emotions clawing through his chest has his jaw clenching, eyes trained on the soft curve of your back as you line up your shot.
Although, his gaze strays, eyes narrowing in on the way some guys hand rests on the dip of your waist, leaning across your back as his hands rest over yours, seemingly trying to educate you on how to play correctly.
He supresses a bitter scoff, watching your lashes flutter as you innocently turn your head to gaze at him with rounded eyes, the blush dusting your cheeks not fooling him. König knew you knew how to play pool.
He taught you, after all.
Now the memories resurface a sour taste in his mouth, his head tipping back the whiskey as the burn replaces the taste of stale heartbreak, chasing down his throat as his face puckers in distaste. He sets the glass down on the table rather harshly, the incessant chatter of your shared friends around him starting to bring on a headache.
One too many times he's been forced to go out despite his protests of not wanting to be around you, but his buddies always seem to convince him with the prospect of moving on from you, and it always seems to work. Even though he's yet to hold a conversation with any of the women inside this bar that wasn't longer than five minutes.
His eyes dart back to the way your head is tipped back, palm over your lips as you laugh, the infuriatingly infectious sound haunting him as he sits there, brewing in emotions threatening to combust.
Anger, sadness, jealousy.
Predominately anger, remembering every sharp word that escaped both of your mouths on the very day you broke up, plaguing his thoughts and dreams. It was a never ending loop of torment, and he couldn't seem to shake you.
No matter how hard he tried.
He shoves out of his seat to get another round, knowing that if he was going to get through tonight he was going to need an alcohol boost. A large one.
He sinks back against one of the bar stools, thighs spread as his hips adjust to sit comfortably, the wooden furniture much too small for his stature. He flags the bartender down with two raised fingers, and she already has a glass in hand, consecutively coming to the only bar on this side of town turning your friend group into regulars.
"On the house."
His eyes raise as he hears the woman's voice ring out, fingers hovering over the glass as his eyes meet hers, and a little press of his lips and a head tilt is his thanks as he takes a sip. His eyes can't help but fall to the curve of her ass as she turns around, and he realizes she's not too bad looking.
He shifts in his chair again, looking back across the bar as the guy you were flirting with earlier cages you in against the pool table playfully, his eyes narrowed as he decides to finally do something about the emotions simmering inside of him. He takes his friends advice and takes a breath, his eyes falling back to the bartender.
"Need something?" She asks as she leans on her hip against the counter, and he can't help but notice the heat her gaze holds as she looks at him, a blossom of guilty excitement spreading in his chest at the prospect of being desired by someone new.
"Actually, there is, Schatz," he drawls in a lower voice, his eyes flickering to the way her hand is shining the glass, the movement oddly sensuous as her hand glides along it with a towelette. He swallows back another small sip, keeping her eye contact as he feels a forming pit in his stomach.
"By chance, when are you off tonight?" He asks, his tone a little raspy as he watches a blush form on her cheeks, and he can't help but be reminded of the hue looking exactly like yours when he'd make you flush. He clenches his jaw as the thoughts make his mouth feel dry, but her smile eases his torment as she laughs.
"Eleven," she teases slightly with a lilt to her words, her eyes flickering to his glass as his thumb skims the edge of it. He lets out a rumbled hum, lips curling slightly as he takes a slow sip, enjoying the fact he was actually able to speak to another woman without your presence overwhelming him with guilt he shouldn't even have.
"Perfect. That's when I was planning on getting out of here," he says smoothly, his back pressing back against the support of the bar stool as his elbow bites into the top of it, exuding the charm and confidence he once had before your break up.
"Hey, Claudia. How's your boyfriend doing?"
The familiar voice has his jaw clenching, the scent of your perfume he knows all to well wafting into his senses making his head turn slightly. The heat radiating from your inebriated body behind him has his heart suddenly in overdrive, annoyance seeping into his expression as he eyes the bartender who suddenly looks flustered.
"Excuse me," the bartender hushes out as she stalks away, and his eyes narrow onto you, his digits curled almost dangerously around his glass as he kills it in one toss of his head. He sets it down before he turns slightly, eyebrows raised.
"Your man of the hour bored of you already?" He bites out, watching as you drunkenly sink into the chair two seats away from him, your face scrunching as you shoot him a glare. The intoxicating feeling making your head feel airy has your eyes fluttering, fingers gripping the chair to stay upright.
"I forgot how funny you were," you say sarcastically, his eyes rolling as he scoffs, and he can't help but feel like you interrupted him with the bartender on purpose, the thought that you could be jealous amusing to him.
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Liebling," he remarks, his voice laced with both amusement and irritation. "But I must admit, it's rather amusing to see you attempting to make me jealous."
You scoff, rolling your eyes in response.
"Please, König. Don't flatter yourself. I couldn't care less about your feelings or who you talk too."
His lips curl into a mischievous smirk as he gazes at you, anticipation mingling with the anger that still pulses beneath his skin. "Is that so? Then why did you decide to interrupt my conversation with the bartender? Trying to get a rise out of me? Desperate for my attention, perhaps?" He quips, and he can sense the growing irritation inside of you because he was right.
"I was asking her a simple question, is all," you try to defend, and he lets out a sardonic chuckle, before he pushes from his seat, ready to call it quits. He slides his coat on, eyes gazing down at you in a hardened expression as he side steps away from his bar stool.
"Right," he says sharply, his hands pulling on his coat as he gives you another glance, the bitter resentment he has for you still at the forefront as his eyes narrow. "You really haven't changed a bit."
"You don't know shit," You say in a slur, the alcohol pushing your invasive thoughts onto your tongue, eyes slanted hazily as you eye him up, his head dropping forward as a scoffed chuckle escapes his lips, his head shaking. He takes a couple steps forward, coming right up to you as he gives you a detached look.
"I know a lot more than you think, Schatz," he says, emphasizing a bitter accent on the German endearment, his eyes glowering as he takes another step forward, eyes flicking down your slumped form as he feels the tension winding inside of him, confusing his thoughts as he hovers over you.
Your eyes widen, his close proximity allowing you to feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes, the scent of his subtle cologne you know all to well plaugimg your nasal passage as your eyes gaze up into his.
"Don't drink and drive. I can trust you won't be stupid just this once, ja?" He says coldly, unable to help the sharp edge to his words as he hovers dangerously close to your lips, sensing your pulse rate change as his gaze flickers to your lips. He smirks as he pulls back, watching your eyes narrow as your chest rises and falls choppily, his face hardening once again.
He turns on his heel, leaving you in the bar as his body grows taut, eyes locked in front of him as his cold facade stays intact. He wouldn't let you destroy what he's worked hard to fix; not that easily.
