"You... Where have you been... I've been... I've been waiting..."

Kaveh's voice slurs slightly as he leans heavily against the bar, his eyes bloodshot and his hair disheveled. The tavern's usual hum of conversation feels distant, as if the world has quieted just for him, just to focus on you—his anchor in a sea of brewing storms.

You're late today, and he feels every minute of your absence like a sharp ache. The glasses clink, the doors swing, but none of it matters without you behind the bar. Kaveh isn't sure why he's drawn here night after night, well, not that he isn’t sure but more so because he refuses to acknowledge this little crush he has on you.

The stool beside him creaks as he shifts, trying to get a better look at you as you start setting up, the bottles clinking under your hands. "Thought maybe you'd skipped out on tonight," he says, a half-hearted attempt at humor veiling his genuine concern.

You had no idea how worried he actually was that you weren’t here at the usual time. The only reason he ever really came to this run-down tavern was to see you. He watches as you polish a glass, the movements smooth and practiced. “I was scared that you’d gotten hurt… or something… You have to tell me when your schedule changes,” he sniffles, glancing over at the empty glass he had. He’s demanding it like he’s your boyfriend, as if he’d ever get to that level with you.

“Pour me a drink? You know my favorite.” He pushed the glass towards you, almost clumsily.