gratuitous karaoke moment
POSTED ON Aug 6, 2024 16:13:15 GMT -5
Post by Luck Harris on Aug 6, 2024 16:13:15 GMT -5
[nospaces]
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Luck had been coming to this small, hole-in-the-wall dive for years. The atmosphere was slow and casual, the air thick with the smell of good food, and the chatter from the decent-sized crowd that filled the seats was light-hearted and liberal with laughter. Football season hadn't officially started, but the threat of it loomed just around the corner. In a couple weeks, when preseason ended, the place would probably be a little more packed and rowdy. A little more charged. But for now, the small TVs hoisted above the bars and in the corners of the room were mostly ignored in favor of company and friends. [break][break]
The largest of the TVs, covering the center back wall, was currently being utilized for karaoke; as was typical for the first and third Fridays of any month. Luck had forgotten that fact. But he'd been far from put out by the people who, every once in a while, picked up a mic to mosey about the room and sing, either by themselves, with a partner, or even with a small group. It was entertaining. It was fun. Everyone was having a good time. [break][break]
He'd started the night off hours ago with a few friends. But when David couldn't keep his head from his arms on the table and Brandon had startled awake from where his chin had tucked to his chest a half-dozen times, Dave's wife claimed it was time to pack it in and edged everyone from their booth. [break][break]
Luck had stayed behind to nurse a couple more. His table had long been cleared of the food they'd all shared and, truthfully, it was past time for him to be headed home as well. But... he'd somehow become rooted. [break][break]
Perhaps, if he'd stood and gone when they'd all left — walked out of the bar with his friends (laughing and smiling while they all poked a little fun at one another and hugged each other goodbye with promises about "next time") — it would have been easier. But he hadn't. And, in the time that'd passed since, the idea of waiting for a ride by himself — sat quietly on a curb or a bench with nothing to distract him from the world's tilt or make it something to grin about instead of groan about — grew increasingly more depressing in his mind.[break][break]
And so he'd stuck. Put it off. [break][break]
He watched the current pair of people singing. They were young, obviously enamored, and not confident at all. Both sung horribly off-key and the lyrics were nearly unintelligible (the words mumbled and broken by breathy, uncertain laughs). But they kept their eyes on one another, uncaring of the performance itself, and encouraged themselves with nods and an unfaltering, daring sort of reassurance. [break][break]
But finally, they gave up — collapsing into one another with a much more decided and defeated giggle. They abandoned both mics on Luck's table before hurrying back to their seats (heads ducked and faces red). It was very cute. Luck grinned and chuckled, unable to help himself, as he finished the last of his beer and watched the words continue to highlight on the TV screen. Someone eventually paused them — leaving the final verse unfinished, half of the words in yellow and the other half in white.[break][break]
It was his last drink, he decided. He was far drunker than he'd planned to get tonight, but — he'd also been good. Stuck to beer and ordered nothing stronger. So the buzz in his brain and the tingle in his veins, it was still muted. Familiar, comforting, and far from the sweaty, thoughtless frenzy that hard liquor tended to spike through him. He stood and stretched, then laughed under his breath when he had to shoot out a hand to steady himself on the back of his booth. Once he felt stilled enough, he picked up the mics he'd been unexpectedly made responsible for and started toward the back of the room to replace them in their spot. Halfway there... he slowed and, with a starting smirk, lifted one to his mouth.[break][break]
"Anyone wanna finish what the lovebirds started?" He continued to mosey foward, but spun slowly as he did so to cast his droopy, glassy eyes about the room in search of a gaze to meet. He could hear the heaviness in his words — the twang that wasn't usually so pronounced and the even weightier slur of his tongue. But it wasn't discouraging. It still felt right, here, in this place, and he only quirked a brow and let his mouth tug further. "Aaaah, c'mon...," he closed an eye and tilted his head. "I'll letcha pick out the song, even. Just nothin' lonesome, hey?"
angel wings at the bus stop
halos left on top of the bar; heaven doesn't want me now
Luck had been coming to this small, hole-in-the-wall dive for years. The atmosphere was slow and casual, the air thick with the smell of good food, and the chatter from the decent-sized crowd that filled the seats was light-hearted and liberal with laughter. Football season hadn't officially started, but the threat of it loomed just around the corner. In a couple weeks, when preseason ended, the place would probably be a little more packed and rowdy. A little more charged. But for now, the small TVs hoisted above the bars and in the corners of the room were mostly ignored in favor of company and friends. [break][break]
The largest of the TVs, covering the center back wall, was currently being utilized for karaoke; as was typical for the first and third Fridays of any month. Luck had forgotten that fact. But he'd been far from put out by the people who, every once in a while, picked up a mic to mosey about the room and sing, either by themselves, with a partner, or even with a small group. It was entertaining. It was fun. Everyone was having a good time. [break][break]
He'd started the night off hours ago with a few friends. But when David couldn't keep his head from his arms on the table and Brandon had startled awake from where his chin had tucked to his chest a half-dozen times, Dave's wife claimed it was time to pack it in and edged everyone from their booth. [break][break]
Luck had stayed behind to nurse a couple more. His table had long been cleared of the food they'd all shared and, truthfully, it was past time for him to be headed home as well. But... he'd somehow become rooted. [break][break]
Perhaps, if he'd stood and gone when they'd all left — walked out of the bar with his friends (laughing and smiling while they all poked a little fun at one another and hugged each other goodbye with promises about "next time") — it would have been easier. But he hadn't. And, in the time that'd passed since, the idea of waiting for a ride by himself — sat quietly on a curb or a bench with nothing to distract him from the world's tilt or make it something to grin about instead of groan about — grew increasingly more depressing in his mind.[break][break]
And so he'd stuck. Put it off. [break][break]
He watched the current pair of people singing. They were young, obviously enamored, and not confident at all. Both sung horribly off-key and the lyrics were nearly unintelligible (the words mumbled and broken by breathy, uncertain laughs). But they kept their eyes on one another, uncaring of the performance itself, and encouraged themselves with nods and an unfaltering, daring sort of reassurance. [break][break]
But finally, they gave up — collapsing into one another with a much more decided and defeated giggle. They abandoned both mics on Luck's table before hurrying back to their seats (heads ducked and faces red). It was very cute. Luck grinned and chuckled, unable to help himself, as he finished the last of his beer and watched the words continue to highlight on the TV screen. Someone eventually paused them — leaving the final verse unfinished, half of the words in yellow and the other half in white.[break][break]
It was his last drink, he decided. He was far drunker than he'd planned to get tonight, but — he'd also been good. Stuck to beer and ordered nothing stronger. So the buzz in his brain and the tingle in his veins, it was still muted. Familiar, comforting, and far from the sweaty, thoughtless frenzy that hard liquor tended to spike through him. He stood and stretched, then laughed under his breath when he had to shoot out a hand to steady himself on the back of his booth. Once he felt stilled enough, he picked up the mics he'd been unexpectedly made responsible for and started toward the back of the room to replace them in their spot. Halfway there... he slowed and, with a starting smirk, lifted one to his mouth.[break][break]
"Anyone wanna finish what the lovebirds started?" He continued to mosey foward, but spun slowly as he did so to cast his droopy, glassy eyes about the room in search of a gaze to meet. He could hear the heaviness in his words — the twang that wasn't usually so pronounced and the even weightier slur of his tongue. But it wasn't discouraging. It still felt right, here, in this place, and he only quirked a brow and let his mouth tug further. "Aaaah, c'mon...," he closed an eye and tilted his head. "I'll letcha pick out the song, even. Just nothin' lonesome, hey?"
i don't believe that we were ever meant to be[break]
left underneath the light of dying stars
left underneath the light of dying stars
Tag: Ask if ya want tagged [break]
Open! They do not have to karaoke. Or they can be immediately awful and bail a couple bars in (hahahaha). You don't have to volunteer, either, if you'd rather Luck zero in on you and serenade/pull you from your seat or smth! Otherwise, he could trip over your shoes as he's walking around, knock your table, or whatever else! I'm open to ideas/directions so literally do anything you want lmao! [break]
Open! They do not have to karaoke. Or they can be immediately awful and bail a couple bars in (hahahaha). You don't have to volunteer, either, if you'd rather Luck zero in on you and serenade/pull you from your seat or smth! Otherwise, he could trip over your shoes as he's walking around, knock your table, or whatever else! I'm open to ideas/directions so literally do anything you want lmao! [break]
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