NIAM STORIES (BXB ONE SHOTS)

Card Tricks (Pt. 02)

"It's Christmas again, dude," said the man at the opposite end of the bar. "How many have there been?"

The blonde gentleman inside the bar — the blue-eyed barista with a gloomy expression on his face behind his glasses that never seemed to fade away — stopped his insistent rubbing of the bar with his cloth and glanced at his last patron for the night. Too many to be happy about, he said to himself but said out loud, "Four to be exact. Gonna be the fifth this year."

His patron — a lovable pint-sized, handsome man with the same blue eyes as his, and who worked at the local radio station as a DJ in the morning — gave him a disbelieving look like he just said something stupid. "And how many times in those four-turning-five years have you tried calling him?" said the patron, swigging down his throat the remains of his drink.

But the barista was having none of it. He was too tired of hearing the same sentences from the DJ. It was not because it was irritating, no — it's because he's right: he's afraid of something, he's dodging the problem that was sucker punching him right on the solar plexus. And he's been dodging it for the longest time.

"You're drunk," muttered the barista.

The patron shrugged. "Denial is bliss, I guess. And so is fear."

"Not this again, Louis," groaned the barista.

"Had a few drinks, I admit it," said Louis, "but 'm not slurrin' or anythin'. My judgement's still pretty fine, Niall. From my perspective, you're cowering away when all you need all this time is to face him. That heated argument was four years ago." A smirk formed on the DJ's lips. "And from all the stalking you talked to me about, my guess is he's still smitten by you, mate."

Niall shrugged, brushed it off like it was an ephemeral sound from the droning low-volumed music at the bar, and went off to wipe some glasses. Though he was trying to distract himself with his work, Louis' eyes strained on him like an x-ray that penetrated deep into his soul. He knew that Louis was right about everything so far but Niall thought it would be better to wash it all away like nothing happened rather than face it and feel the sting.

Louis took one last swig of his drink and slammed a few pounds on the wooden table. Niall sighed, set down the glass he was wiping and trotted towards Louis. "Look, I know you're frustrated about me," said Niall. "But I really don't want you to pay out of the sheer fact that I'm taking a piss on your well-meant advice. It's on the house, Lou, really."

"Those bills aren't for the drinks, idiot," said Louis. "That's for the cab you're gonna take before going home. There's a paper with his address on it too."

Louis stood up and slipped on his coat. With a sigh, he glanced at Niall with a glum expression on his face. "You'll probably throw that paper away and pretend I just gave you a big tip but at least I'm trying to do something for you. Fix this, Niall. As a friend, let me tell you that you'll never be happy again unless you fix things with Liam."

"He kicked me out, Lou," said Niall.

"What, you think he would've asked to join in after seeing you like that?" replied Louis as he opened the door of the bar. The orange light of a sidewalk lamp illuminated half of his face, the rest was in darkness. "He was mad, Niall. Liam said some things at the most but that didn't mean he stopped loving you."

Just like that, Niall was all alone at the bar. The music had stopped, and the lava lamp by the loo fluidly juggled its content under the green light. The expanse of the entire pub were all but chairs flipped upside down onto the tables and the mere ghosts of the riotous laughs a few hours before.