— vingt ; twenty —

THAT FRIDAY, HENRI HAD his first shift at the questionable bar he managed to land a job at and he wasn't sure what to expect.

He was expecting to be given some kind of uniform but one hour before his shift started, he got a text from Liza telling him to dress "smart casual" followed by another telling "but make sure you wear all black". That meant he had to rummage around in his wardrobe in search of something black, smart and casual, which was difficult considering he wasn't sure about half the things he owned. Henri didn't take much time to consider his style and generally just wore whatever he grabbed first in the morning. Now he was sitting on the floor in front of his wardrobe and he had to find something actually appropriate.

"Hey, Soren," Henri said, grabbing a black shirt from the depths of his messy wardrobe and holding it up. "Is this smart casual?"

"Who's asking?"

"Me, dumbass." Henri twisted around to see Soren sitting up on his bed and eyeing the shirt he was holding up. Henri gave it a second look and tossed it aside without having to hear Soren's brutally honest opinion on it. "Okay, you bought pretty much everything I own. Tell me where I can find something black that's smart casual."

"Do I want to know why?" Soren asked.

"Hot date to impress. That was a joke," Henri added, rolling his eyes at Soren's expression. "Learn to pick up on the sarcasm. I need something to wear for my job."

"And since when do you have a job?"

"Since I realised I don't have any money," Henri grumbled. "And I'm sick of being bored out of my mind during free time because I can't buy anything to entertain myself."

Soren raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that why I'm here?"

"Holy shit," Henri said, snorting a laugh. "Maybe you do have a sense of humour. Buried beneath the dead inside act. A very convincing act, by the way."

"Shut up," Soren said, but he obligingly slid off the bed and came to stand behind Henri. He heaved a sigh as he looked into the blackhole that was Henri's wardrobe. "It would be easier to find what you need if you didn't just dump everything on the floor when you're done with it. Hangers exist for a reason."

"Quit lecturing me because we both know I'm not going to listen," Henri said. "Smart casual. I'll hold up potential candidates and you tell me if they're okay. Got it?"

Turns out, the sporadic shopping trip they'd made months ago hadn't been very well thought out. None of his black clothes were smart casual and anything that could have passed wasn't the right colour. Henri settled on black jeans, which was as smart as he got no matter what Soren said about it, but the rest of the outfit was proving to be difficult. He was running out of time to decide and had half an hour until his shift.

"I bet you have something smart casual that's black," Henri said, glancing at Soren's wardrobe.

"Yes, but you wouldn't fit in anything I own. You are stupidly short."

"I'm not that much shorter than you," Henri bluffed, pushing himself to his feet. He wasn't sure what point he was going to make, considering he was shorter than Soren, but as he raised his gaze to meet Soren's he was surprised to find he didn't have to tilt his head back as far as usual. He blinked and smiled widely. "Well, would you look at that. I'm really not that much shorter than you."

Soren folded his arms across his chest. "Isn't it a little late for puberty to come into effect?"

"Shut your mouth. I'm sure you have something I can use now that you're only a few inches taller than me," Henri said, going to his wardrobe. Unsurprisingly, every single piece of clothing was hung up and carefully arranged. "Let me guess, you've colour co-ordinated this?"

Soren shoved him aside. "Don't touch my stuff. I don't need you messing everything up."

Despite his complaints, Soren tossed him a black button up that fit fine once he rolled the sleeves up. Henri pulled his new outfit on, combed his messy hair down with his fingers, and decided that was good enough for him.

"Hey, where are you going dressed up all cute?" Matthias asked from the sofa. "Hot date?"

"I'll give you that one," Henri said, "but no. Got a job."

"Where is it?" Xander asked.

"One of the bars downtown? Matt's Bar, I think it was called."

"No way," Aria said, pausing the movie they were watching with a delighted look. "You're working at Matt's Bar?"

Henri narrowed his eyes at her. "Yeah, so?"

"They are going to eat you alive," Aria smirked. "Matt's Bar is the kind of dodgy place that never ID's and creepy pervs go to slip date rape drugs in drinks. Someone will try to molest you within the first five minutes."

"I'll snap their fingers if anyone tries to touch me," Henri said, without missing a beat.

"Aria, this kid is lowkey a psycho. He'll be fine." Matthias grinned. "Good luck on the job, rookie!"

Whatever Aria thought about the place, it was pretty packed by the time Henri reached. He attributed the popularity to the fact it was a Friday night and with the school year starting next week, students were slowly trickling into West Virginia. The air was hazy with cigarette smoke when he slipped inside and the customers ranged from late teens who'd managed to sneak their way in to older men sipping beers. Henri fought his way through the crowded tables to the bar, where he found Liza working. She looked relieved she saw him and quickly ushered him to join her behind the bar.

"Thank god you're here," she said, not even slowing down for a second as she rinsed out a glass and began pouring alcohol into a cocktail shaker. "There's three of us now you're here and we need as many hands as we can get. You remember all your training?"

"Sure," Henri shrugged.

"Good. We'll keep you on a short shift of four hours for today and increase that as necessary. Just — "

"Oi!" A man down the bar clicked his fingers patronisingly in their direction. "Been waiting a while for a drink now, sweetheart!"

Liza gritted her teeth. "You're up, Henri. Go deal with him. Oh, and good luck," she said. "You'll need it."

Actually working the bar was completely different to training, and even that hadn't been a walk in the park. Now Henri was struggling to remember all the drinks and mixers and names Liza had given him, and he had time pressure to deal with that didn't allow for any mistakes. Which didn't mean he didn't make them — he was constantly getting orders wrong and having to redo them. He didn't get a single second to sit down or take break, and there were so many people in the room that it was a hot and sticky place to constantly be on your feet in. But as much as all of that sucked, the worst part of the job was decidedly the customers he had to serve.

Some of them were so impatient they didn't appreciate that it actually took time for Henri to make drinks, snapping at him to hurry up every five seconds, and others were so downright rude it took every ounce of his willpower not to throw the drink they ordered right back in their faces. Then there were the creepy predators he had to deal with. Aria wasn't wrong about the creepy perverts frequenting this place — plenty of the older women sipping martinis threw in gagworthy flirty lines with their orders, which Henri ignored every time, and even a few of the men tried to hit on him.

When one woman who was easily old enough to be his mother touched his arm for a second too long, it took everything in him not to throw her off him. He settled for a tight-lipped smile that didn't even come close to genuine and told himself to think of the money. Only four hours. That's all he had to get through.

"It's annoying, isn't it?" Henri looked up from the Pornstar Martini he was trying to put together for cougar #46 to see his other coworker, Zena, rolling her eyes at him. "The amount of people who try and get your number, I mean."

"It's always like this?"

"Always," Zena said, exasperated. "I'd like to say you get used to it, but that's what we get for picking this dodgy place to work at. What's your excuse?"

Henri slanted a look at her. "They don't do background checks here."

"Oh?" Zena looked at him with interest. "That's intriguing. You got a dark and dangerous past you're running from?"

"I wish it was that interesting," Henri scoffed, but didn't elaborate on the issue being that he was even more underage than he'd lied about. He didn't trust whether or not Zena would rat him out to Liza. "What about you? Why are you stuck here?"

"It's the only place that would take me without any prior experience," Zena shrugged. "It was this place or waitressing, and everyone knows bartending pays better. I'll let some creeps grope my ass if it means I get more cash at the end of the night."

Henri poured passion fruit vodka to finish off the cocktail. "How very noble of you."

That conversation was one of the brief reprieves Henri got during his four straight shift, because there wasn't much time to talk between taking orders, making them and then delivering them. He found himself roped into conversation with some of the customers and when he tried to get out of it, pretty politely he liked to think, Zena scolded him.

"Our main purpose is to swindle as much money as possible out of these idiots," she muttered under her breath, turning him by the shoulder and giving him a little push back towards the counter. "If that means talking, you talk."

"I'm here to make drinks," Henri protested. "No one said I have to make small talk."

"Yeah, well, suck it up, pretty boy. Just be glad you don't have to sleep with them."

Henri grimaced. "At least I haven't been reduced to prostitution. Yet."

That's how he ended up pouring out shots for a group of drunken girls who were definitely below twenty one, listening to them babble his ear off and nodding along as if he cared about what they were saying. He was feeling grateful they'd just asked for tequila shots and not some complicated cocktail, when he heard someone call his name. He glanced down the bar to see none other than Loren and Kit, wedged into one of the free spaces and waving him over.

"Excuse me," Henri said, finishing off their shots and putting on the fake polite voice he'd manufactured over the course of the evening. He was coming to think of it as his Work Voice. "Enjoy your evening."

"Henri," Kit grinned, when he reached them. "How cool is this place? They didn't even ID us when we came in."

"Yeah, just one of the many perks. Don't drink that," Henri warned, pushing away the gin and tonic someone had abandoned on the bar that Kit was reaching for. He didn't trust what someone might have put in that or which gross person had ordered it. "How did you guys know this is where I work?"

"Matthias told us," Loren said, folding her arms across the bar and then slowly pulling away, frowning down at the sticky surface. "It's, uh...interesting. A different kind of vibe."

"You mean it's sleazy and unsavoury," Henri corrected, and shrugged at Loren's sheepish expression. "It's fine, I'm not here for the ambience. It pays ten dollars an hour and that's not even including tips. I'll take what I can get."

"And I'll take what I can get," Kit said, studying one of the laminated menus scattered across the bar. "Can I get one these free?"

"Free?" Henri laughed. "Yeah, right. I'm here for money, not friendship."

"Aw, c'mon dude. Mates rates is totally a thing. Fine, what about for your cherished Exy teammate? No?" Kit pouted when Henri just shook his head, amused. "Such a waste. Hey, what's a blowjob?"

"Not the kind you're looking for," Henri said, and Loren passed off her laugh as a cough into her hand. "Where's Lucas? He's missing the freshmen hanging outside Evermore for the first time."

Kit pouted even more. "Being a total pussy."

"He didn't want to come here because he's underage," Loren explained. "He was scared the cops would haul him to jail if they found him trying to get drinks. He wouldn't even believe Alixis when she told him most places here will serve students on the down low for revenue."

After extensive studying of the menu and asking for Henri's opinion ("I've only been here for three hours," Henri reminded him), Kit ordered a whiskey. "On the rocks," he added, with a grin. He seemed pleased with his limited drinks jargon and Henri took it as practice so he wouldn't mess up on a proper customer. Loren waved aside the menu and stuck with a plain lemonade.

"Because you're underage?" Henri asked, making her lemonade first. Each of the nozzles sprayed out a different type of soda and he'd learned the hard way which one was which. "Trust me, if they come here, it'll be to bust out the child predators before the underage drinkers. You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about that," Loren said. "I never really liked the taste of alcohol and after that trial, I'm swearing off the stuff. The sober life is for me."

"How boring are they?" Kit made a show of rolling his eyes. "Lucas won't even come near a bar and Loren doesn't drink. Guess it's up to you and me to make up for what they're missing out."

"I'll leave that one to you," Henri said, pouring out the golden brown whiskey into a tumbler filled with ice. "I don't drink for fun. Losing control isn't something I want to waste my money and liver on. The only times I've done it is because the upperclassmen forced me to."

Kit nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe that's for the best. You kind of flipped out last time you drank and nearly ruined Jude's Exy career. Is he still ignoring you?"

"Of course." Henri slid the whiskey towards Kit. "Thank fuck for that. If all it took to get him to back off was a threat to his limbs, I would have done it on my first day here."

"You're a little messed up in the head, Moreau," Kit said, but he was grinning. "Threatened to stab anyone here?"

"Not yet," Henri said, and went to take the order of another person calling him from further down the bar.

The final hour of his shift passed considerably faster with company and also saved him from having to make forced conversation with strangers. He kept making them drinks and by Kit's fourth, he'd ran out of money, so Henri did something that might get him fired and just slipped in a free one. Turns out, he didn't need to keep up the drinks to get them to stay. Kit soon found something else to snag his attention.

"And when I hit the ball, it totally..." Kit trailed off in the middle of his story and Henri exchanged a bemused look with Loren. "Who is she?"

Henri followed his gaze to see Zena had reappeared from storage, carrying a huge bag of ice in each arm, and she was the subject of Kit's stare. He hadn't really thought about it but she was good looking, in a very natural way. Her dark skin was unblemished and her tight corkscrew curls were pulled back by a red bandana, with a few framing her face. The countless ear piercings and nose piercing gave a slightly more edgy look that probably appealed to Kit.

"My coworker," Henri said, glancing back at Kit. "And apparently your newest victim to undress with your eyes."

Kit pulled a face at him. "Okay, shut up and tell me something useful. What's her name?"

"Zena. And there's no point in wasting your time trying to hit on her."

"Why?" Kit sighed. "She already has a boyfriend, doesn't she? Of course she does. Someone that pretty couldn't be single."

Henri poured out another pint of Guinness. "I don't know about her relationship status, but she was just complaining about creepy customers trying to get in her pants. You'd just be another one of those creeps if you tried to talk to her now."

"So I still have a chance?" Kit asked hopefully.

"I guess."

"Oh, hey!" Kit suddenly beamed at Henri. "You're friends with her, aren't you?"

"Actually, she's just my — "

"You can introduce us!" Kit continued, barely seeming to hear him. "Then I'm not just another randomer, but someone with a name and a mutual friend. It's perfect. Why don't you call her over now?"

Henri rolled his eyes. "I don't exactly have a choice, do I?"

Evidently, he didn't, but he didn't think Zena would appreciate him pulling her aside when she was clearly busy just so Kit could drool over her. He told him he'd get around to matchmaking when his shift was done and made his last couple of daiquiris before it finally hit midnight, and he was free. His exhaustion and sore legs from standing for so long were forgotten at the fifty dollars Liza forked over to him.

"Forty is for your wage," she explained, as he rifled through the wad of cash, "and the other ten is in tips. All tips from bartenders is put together and split between them at the end of the night."

"Nice," Henri grinned.

"You okay working on a zero hours contract?" Liza asked. "I call you in advance and let you know when I need you working a shift. It'll mostly be Fridays and Saturdays, but if we're short on staff, I might have to call you in on a weekday."

"That's fine with me. Thank you," he added.

"No problem." Liza ruffled his hair. "Nice work today. You did good for a first timer."

Zena got off at the same time as him, switching on for two new bartenders, and Kit was looking at him expectantly where he was waiting with Loren. "Hey, Zena," he said, resigned, wondering how he'd been stuck getting his teammate laid. "These are my friends, Kit and Loren."

"Hi," Kit said eagerly, practically tripping over his own feet to stick his hand out. "Nice to meet you."

Zena shook his hand with a perplexed expression. "Uh, yeah. You too. Well done surviving your first day," she said, nodding at Henri. "I'm heading off, so I'll see you later."

"She seems nice," Loren commented, as they made their way back to Castle Evermore. Henri was lucky, because downtown cut around campus and he only had to make a ten minute walk.

"Nice? She seems amazing," Kit said dreamily, too caught up in his lovestruck daze to notice the disbelieving look Henri shot him. "And she has the prettiest brown eyes. Who knew brown eyes could be so warm?"

Henri snorted. "Who knew you could be such a soppy loser?"

"Leave him alone," Loren smiled, nudging Henri lightly when he rolled his eyes. "I think it's sweet."

"Exactly," Kit said smugly. "Just 'cause you don't have romance in your life doesn't mean you have to be bitter about the rest of us."

Maybe Henri didn't have romance, but he had Soren and he wouldn't want to swap whatever friends—with—benefits relationship they had for a girlfriend or boyfriend. He knew that he was considerably more involved than Soren, more than he ever should have let himself get, but it was too late to back out now. He would rather take what he could get now than do the smart thing and cut all ties before it got too painful. He was half-expecting Soren to break things off between them when the season started again, considering the media would be all over Henri and he wouldn't want that associating threatening the sanctity of his private life. He'd deal with that when he came to it.

The bedroom was dark when Henri slipped inside and the even breathing filling the room told him Soren was asleep. Henri quietly closed the door behind him, knowing how light of a sleeper Soren was and not wanting to wake him up. He changed quickly and had just finished brushing his teeth when he saw something lumpy sitting on his pillow. He moved towards it cautiously, thinking Jude had finally gotten revenge with some kind of bomb that would blow up in his face when he touched it, but the shape was too thin and flat for that. Besides, as much as Jude might hate him, Henri didn't think he'd do anything that would risk hurting Soren.

He picked it up, thinking it was some kind of book until he flipped open the cover page and felt the textured paper beneath his fingers. A sketchpad. Not just any sketchpad, but the one he'd stared at in the mall all those weeks ago. Next to it was a pack of pencils, black and coloured, intended for sketching. That was when he saw the note sitting on his pillow, in Soren's familiar loopy scrawl.

It's late, but hope you had a terrible happy birthday.
- S

It took Henri a moment to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. It was possibly the nicest gift anyone had ever given him, not because of how much it cost, but because of the thought behind it. And because it was Soren. It wasn't just the nicest gift he had ever received but the nicest thing Soren had ever done for him. He set the sketchpad and pencils down on his bedside table, along with the note, and pulled himself up onto Soren's bed.

"Hey," Soren mumbled sleepily, when Henri clambered on top of him to straddle his hips. Henri pressed a kiss against his neck, another along his jaw, then finally one on his mouth, and Soren finally opened drowsy green eyes. "Henri?"

"Aren't you worried a birthday present might ruin your asshole image?" Henri wondered, with mock thoughtfulness.

"It's okay." Soren actually smiled, not a dry curl of his lips or a hint of one which he immediately wiped away, but a genuine smile that made Henri's chest fill with warmth. "I like to keep you on your toes."

Henri leant down and kissed him again, intense and hard and passionate. He let himself imagine, just for a moment, that Soren was his boyfriend and he was allowed to do this whenever he wanted, without having to worrying about his feelings which were spinning out of control faster than he could stop. It was a dangerous thing to think about while Soren's hands traced a hot path across his chest and his hair tangled between Henri's fingers, thick and soft and gold. It was also impossible not to think about as he lost himself, once again, in the sanctuary of Soren's lips.