He grimaced, and clicked around to figure out if any of the bars or joints in this area were looking out for musicians. A tiny little local bar was better than nothing. He couldn't go back home for another month, as he'd rented it out for while he was gone. He couldn't just show up and boot the short-term renter out, not without it turning into a big mess.
With barely anything else to do, Finn clicked on the television for a moment to see what was on- mostly sitcom reruns and a few 20-something year old movies that were somehow still relatively popular. He scrolled through the few channels provided before reluctantly turning the display back off and slipping his boots on, preparing to head out.
He grimaced, still clicking around rather aimlessly at this point. He had sent an application to a few different local places, each within an hour's drive from the motel. He didn't want to drive too far, but he still needed a gig or something. He had savings stashed away, sure, but he still needed some kind of income.
Setting out into the chilly, damp morning air, Finn subconsciously tugged his jacket closer. He’d almost considered leaving without one, but as soon as he pulled up the weather forecast he’d changed his mind. According to Google, it was a twenty minute walk to the stretch of shops in which the two he’d selected were set. Not too bad all things considered, and he was sure a morning walk would do him good. Clear his mind and all.
(timeskip? Or?)
Waylen tapped his own against his laptop, then grabbed his guitar and tuned it, and began to play, soft and quiet. He hummed along, not singing as he didn't want to be too loud. He closed his eyes, playing by feel and sound only.
(akdkak why did i legit forget timeskips existed for a second- but yeah, that sounds good. did you have a specific time in mind or? not sure when the two of them would meet up next plot-wise.)
(lmaoo right. Uhmm maybe they run into each other at the local bar?? Idk)
(that works! lots of potential there, nice thinking :) i’ll start that, then, since you replied last.)
(thanks! Alright! I gtg soon tho, sorry)
(no worries! it’s getting a bit late where i am too.)
(yeah, goodnight if I don't reply again!)
(goodnight!)
With nothing else better to do, Finn turned to something he didn’t think he would ever need again. It wasn’t even the alcohol that drew him into these places, tempted him to come inside. The colored lights flickering over the bar, catching the light of dozens of colored bottles behind the bar- it seemed almost ethereal, in a way. No one seemed to mind his eyes on them, either. Everyone seemed so lost in their own movements and drinks that he didn’t have to worry about his gaze lingering a bit too long on someone’s band tee while he tried to read the letters, or admiring someone’s hair. At most he would get a wide, drunken smile his way that he would politely return.
And so there he sat, on a barstool that was ever-so-slightly too small, admiring the reflections of the strobe lights in the colored glass while sipping on his own drink. Nothing alcoholic, just a sparkling water. He didn’t particularly enjoy them, but he’d found over previous weak nights that they were nice for these times.
Waylen had come to the bar for a drink and some conversation and, perhaps, someone to have some fun with for the night. He wasn't picky, he didn't care if it was another guy or a woman or someone who was non-binary. It didn't matter to him. He wasn't drinking too much, just a cocktail that he held carefully in one hand. He knew better than to set it down, or anything. Sure, guy's drinks were less likely to get drugged, but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen. He got caught up in conversation pretty quickly, laughing and shaking his head as he gestured with one hand. He had yet to notice Finn, too wrapped up in his own conversation.
Finn took another sip of his drink, surveying the crowd with a look of mild distaste. He didn’t quite understand the appeal of going to a club for dancing. The floor was always crowded, sweaty and drunk attendees flailing all over the place. While he didn’t quite enjoy dancing either, he believed that it would be more enjoyable if you weren’t surrounded by gross strangers breathing down your neck.
Waylen continued talking. He usually only enjoyed dancing if he was sufficiently drunk enough, preferring conversation and people watching over dancing with anyone. Dancing was rather irritating. Everyone was sweaty and liked to grope.
Finn hummed softly along to the music playing, returning his gaze to the crowd after he watched a couple slide away towards the bathrooms, presumably to do unsavory things he didn’t want to think about. Skimming the crowd quickly, he swore he saw a familiar tuft of hair among everyone. He was confused for a split second, but quickly dropped it. Obviously many people had to look like that, it wasn’t a big deal. Besides, he’d only caught it out of the corner of his eye.
Waylen laughed again, finishing off his drink and ordering another one, a different type this time. He kept talking with this new partner, leaning back against the countertop and tugging faintly on his shirt, adjusting the fit.
Sipping from his drink, Finn glanced over to see the newcomer to the bar. And then he did a double-take when he immediately recognized the man. Fuckin’ hell. He rolled his eyes heavily, swearing internally. He didn’t say anything, just turning slightly away as if his brightly-dyed hair wasn’t a dead giveaway as to who he was.
Waylen glanced around the room, frowning faintly when he recognized, finally, Finn's presence. His expression flickered, and then he turned back to his partner with a fresh laugh and a smile and a soft, flirtatious touch. Finn's presence didn't matter. It didn't. It wouldn't.
Goddammit. Even looking the other way, he could hear every remark the two behind him made, and it was painfully clear what Waylen’s goal with the conversation was. As much as he tried to ignore the asshole, the uncomfortable press of the situation wouldn’t leave him alone. It didn’t make any sense- it didn’t have the same weight to it as it did last night, and Finn couldn’t pinpoint the discomfort down. Frustrated and incredibly uncomfortable, he adandoned his drink to head for the back door. He needed some air.
Waylen noticed, from the corner of his eye, when Finn left, but he didn't do anything to try and stop the other man, still on conversation with his partner. Sure, his end goal was some fun, a one night stand, and so what? He was perfectly entitled to having them if or when he wanted to. Who cared if his high school ex was in the room next door?
Slipping easily through the crowd, it only took Finn a moment to reach the back of the building and slip outside. Outside the back door was nothing interesting, a simple back alley with a dumpster and probably a stray cat or two hiding somewhere. He shuffled down the alley a few feet, leaning against the brick wall and sucking in a deep breath. He couldn’t even begin to figure out why he was so bothered by Waylen’s presence so he didn’t try just yet, running a hand through his hair and appreciating the cool air.
Waylen let his hand rest on the arm of the man he was speaking with, a soft smile pulling at his mouth as he looked upwards, mouth tugging into an expression that was half a smirk and half a smile. He took another sip of his drink, still flirting and speaking quite easily, putting all htoughts of Finn out of his mind.
Finn sighed, thoroughly unable to comprehend why he was so uncomfortable. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to hear that when he went back to the motel later. He’d never understand how Waylen could bed absolutely anybody and just move on the next day. It was just… gross. Whatever. Moving on.