Oletus Manor's Library [Identity V Oneshots]

Eli Clark: A Drink to Forget

Request: hi.... can i have sum eli hcs.... except it's with lunar phase or recluse.....? ty aha....

Summary: Eli often visits the lonely bar to accompany the cute bartender working there, but tonight he just wants to forget.

Warning: Alcohol consumption, a mention of death

Wordcount: 1.2k

Note: So halfway through writing this, I realized that you requested headcanons but I was far too deep already

So here's a fic instead :P

The small ray of moonlight shined perfectly onto the bar's open sign. In the desolate street where even Eli's faint footsteps can be heard, the illuminated bar was eerily out of place. It was one of the many places the detective had investigated and now frequent, a small gem amongst the barren wasteland of this side of town.

A bell rang when Eli opened the door, catching the attention of the only person in the small bar–you, who so happened to be the only bartender and owner of the small bar. Brooke swooped down from Eli's shoulder to the table next to you, delighting in your familiar presence. You petted the owl. "Back again so soon, Clark?"

The detective slumped onto his usual stool at the counter, "with this new case, expect me to show up a lot. And... give me something stronger tonight–anything." You looked at him in confusion but hummed anyway; sure, he did frequent here to drink, but it was mostly for fun–he never drank his problems away.

But who are you to deny a customer?

Without further questions, you grabbed bottles from your shelf and silently began to work. You shooed Brooke away from your workspace, silently muttering to her to comfort Eli–Brooke, as if she understood what you said, flew over to her owner and gave a cute little hoot.

"I saw my client's child today," Eli began to explain as you work, "in a trash bin... dismembered." His voice faltered at the end but you couldn't blame him, even you froze at the sheer disgust of the killer's deed. No wonder why Eli wanted to forget that tonight.

"How long do you think it'll take to solve this case, Detective Clark?" You handed him his drink then leaned on the table, bringing down your face to his level. His bandage blindfold had been smeared with tiny streaks of blood. Eli shrugged and took a swig out of his drink, immediately wincing at the burning feeling running down his throat.

"How do people even drink this?"

"Hey, you're the one who ordered this, Clark, don't waste it." You gave a hearty laugh and flicked his forehead. After that, a comfortable silence fell between you two as the gramophone continued to play one of the many discs you owned. You hummed when a realization dawned on you and left to the back storage of the bar.

As soon as you left, Eli groaned from the sudden headache he had, and it was not from the alcohol. Brooke hopped closer to her master and extended her wing out to his arm as if to comfort him through the upcoming visions.

"Clark, it's past midnight, go to sleep"

"Call me Eli."

"...Eli."

"And stay.

Stay with me tonight, please"

"Your blindfold's a mess," you announced once you got back from the storage. Eli quickly shook his head, his face turning slightly red at the vision of asking you to do something so improper. A roll of white bandages lay in the palm of your hand, "blood's smeared on it and all, here-" you plopped the bandage on the counter, "-you want me to help or can you do it by yourself?"

Eli blushed... No one ever cared about his blindfold–something he has worn for years now–before. You were the first. He was lucky he had alcohol as the excuse for getting red. "No thank you, I'll just do it by myself." But even if Eli did have interest in you, he couldn't risk embarrassing himself even further.

.

An hour passed by and you could only laugh at the detective's drunken state: babbling to Brooke about how she's the prettiest bird of them all. The most relaxed you've ever seen the detective was only when he was tipsy but still sober enough to comprehend everything. Now, he's just... in his own world. Despite the humor, it wasn't safe for him to get home this late in a vulnerable state.

With that thought in mind, you cleaned up the counter, closed the bar, and hooked Eli's arm over your shoulder, attempting to carry him to his house which he so gladly gave you the address when asked. You did a good job by taking care of him like this, if he had gone home by himself and got mugged, he might as well just invite the mugger into his house.

His home was less luxurious than you thought. You knew he was a good detective and had some pretty money-hefty clients, yet his small walls are a bleak white and the only color to his home was in what was supposed to be a living room-turned-office. Papers were plastered on the walls, scattered on the ground, and pinned onto the great corkboard that had numerous pictures of people and places with a red string connecting all of them. It wasn't until now that you realized how stressful this job could be.

You settled Eli onto his bed and unbutton his coat despite his protests of embarrassment. Even after you did successfully get him ready for bed, he still refused to sleep, preferring to stay awake with you because–in his words– "it's more fun."

"Clark, it's past midnight, go to sleep." You pressed your lips into a thin as Eli groaned in annoyance.

"I don't like it when you call me that," Eli looked up at you and from his mannerisms, you could tell he was doing puppy eyes. That obviously didn't work on you seeing as he had the blindfold on. "Call me Eli."

Your lips parted in surprise at the sudden request. His last name was always used as a barrier. Loneliness has always been his friend, you knew and respected that, not once had you considered yourself his friend, not once have you overstepped his boundaries of comfort. But has he been doing the same thing as you?

Eli had always been so kind, even buying you a lovely present for your birthday a few months ago when no one even so much as said a simple 'happy birthday'. "...Eli." His name sounded weird on your tongue, but nonetheless, it made you–and Eli–smile.

"And stay." He reached out his hand to your own pulling you down to sit on the bed beside his laying body, "stay with me tonight, please." You almost burst out laughing at his request. It was cute. He was cute. But with no change of clothes and toiletries, you could only stay for so long.

You squeezed his hand and pat his hair with a sad smile, "I can't stay with you tonight," you explained to him and a frown quickly made its way on his face, "but I can stay until you sleep." And just like that, a smile once again graced his face. You continued to pet his hair until he fell asleep, a faint snore–which you couldn't help but coo at–indicated his deep sleep.

The small ray of moonlight shined perfectly on the two of you. In the silent room where nothing can disturb the peace, you chuckled to yourself at the thought of you and Eli getting closer.

He had been drunk when this happened, yes, but tomorrow you two shall talk. Tomorrow, you'll buy him his favorite pastry and Brooke's favorite snacks and have a small drink or two over the counter. Tomorrow, he'll see that loneliness is no longer his friend.

Because he has you now.