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Jiwoo had always believed that she didn't belong in places like these.

The music was too loud, pounding through the floor like a second heartbeat. The lights flashed in restless colors that made the room feel dizzy, and the air was thick with the sharp smell of alcohol and perfume and something slightly burned from the kitchen.

None of it ever sat right with her.

Bars were meant for people who laughed easily with strangers. People who knew how to shout over music, how to lean against counters like they owned the room, how to order drinks without squinting at the menu like it was written in another language.

Yet, here she was.

Wandering through a thick crowd, trying to navigate her way to the bar section of the club. She took a step, apologized for bumping into someone when they probably couldn't even hear her.

Another person brushed past her shoulder. Someone laughed loudly behind her. The bass thumped through the floor again, rattling the nerves she hadn’t meant to bring with her tonight.

Jiwoo pressed forward anyway.

Just one drink, she reminded herself.

That had been the deal.

She stumbled slightly as she finally reached the bar and caught the edge of the counter to steady herself.

And then she saw you.

Behind the bar.

Moving like you had grown up there.

A glass spun between your fingers before landing perfectly upright. Your other hand slid a drink across the counter without even looking, your attention already on the next order someone was shouting over the music.

You leaned in slightly to hear someone better, nodding once before grabbing a bottle from the shelf behind you.

Everything about the way you moved looked effortless.

Confident.

Like the chaos of the room didn’t touch you at all.

Jiwoo stared for a second longer than she meant to.

Then you looked up.

Your eyes flicked across the crowded bar automatically, scanning faces the way someone did after hours of serving people.

They landed on her.

For half a second, neither of you moved.

Jiwoo straightened quickly, suddenly aware that she was standing there staring like someone who had forgotten what they came for.

You tilted your head slightly, reading the situation in a glance.

First time here, overwhelmed, probably lost.

The corner of your mouth twitched faintly.

You stepped closer to her side of the bar.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Can't I come and visit my boyfriend?” She answered back.

You paused barely.

The glass in your hand stopped mid-polish before you continued like nothing had happened.

“My workplace isn’t exactly a date spot,” you said.

Jiwoo glanced around the bar.

Someone was cheering near the dartboard. A group of people were arguing loudly about something that probably didn’t matter. The bass thumped again, rattling the bottles on the shelves behind you.

“…I noticed,” she muttered.

You slid a finished drink down to someone waiting beside her before your attention returned to Jiwoo.

“You hate places like this.”

“I don’t hate them.”

“Yeah, I could see that with how you’re dressed up.” You replied.

Jiwoo looked down at herself briefly before she pulled the sleeves of her sweater tighter.

Jiwoo looked down at herself briefly before she pulled the sleeves of her sweater tighter.

It was the same oversized one she wore most mornings in the apartment. Soft. Comfortable. Completely out of place among the glittering tops and sleek jackets around her.

Someone brushed past her wearing heels that probably cost more than her entire outfit.

Jiwoo exhaled quietly.

“…I didn’t know there was a dress code,” she muttered.

You leaned one hip against the counter, watching her with a look that hovered somewhere between amused and fond.

“There isn’t,” you said.

“Then why did you say that?”