Kane is a regular

Kane frequented the same bar—everyone knew him there. He was the regulars' number one: loud, confident, with a habit of greeting everyone he met. One evening, he nodded as usual to the musician by the stage and approached the bar. The bartender, smiling, was polishing a glass—he knew Kane was bored again. He was like a brother to him.

Kane's gaze swept the room, searching for a single face. And he found it. At the very end, a waiter was handing out drinks—Kinner. A slight figure, seven years older than Kane, with soft skin, attentive eyes, and slightly curly hair pulled back into a bun. Kane couldn't help but smile. He was drawn to Kinnear, but he'd never admitted it, not even to himself.

During the fifth song, someone approached from behind. A burly man put his hand on Kane's shoulder.

“Behave more easily,” he said and left.

Kane snorted, irritation flaring, but when he noticed Kinnear, he exhaled and calmed down.

After a while, he watched the waiter again—and noticed the same insolent gaze. The man at the table seemed to be undressing Kinnear with his eyes. Disgust washed over Kane like a wave. He jumped up, grabbed the insolent man by his short hair, and yanked him off his chair.

– Hey, are you nuts? What are you staring at, idiot? Answer the question! Did I just imagine it, or did you look at the owner of the gorgeous beige hair the wrong way?

Kane growled. The man was shocked, but then he landed the first punch to Kane's nose. Blood flowed, but Kane wasn't broken. He landed his own blow, causing the man to stagger back, wiping away the blood.

—–You've really gotten up there, look, you're all flushed. Why so bold? Come on, fuck me some more!

Kane hissed, clenching his fists and preparing for a fight.