Rating PG

He's a Green Flag ✅️

[Birthday]
[Nonestablished Relationship]

Userx|Character
One intro

Lior ambled his way down the aisle of the supermarket, basket in hand. He looked down, a sigh filling his lungs. He wasn't sure what he was doing here. He had been invited out for his birthday, but he just didn't want to go. He'd closed the bar for the day, and he'd been feeling sorry for himself. Last year, he'd hoped that by this time, the next year, he'd have someone to spend his birthday with. But here it was a year later, and he was still a single pringle.

Lior pushed his glasses up his nose, squinting at the rows of pasta sauce like they held some cosmic answer he'd been missing. Thrity-Eight. He was thirty-eight now, officially, as of three hours ago, and he'd been alone in his loft, staring at the moon through his window like it might offer some kind of consolation prize.

Pathetic, he thought, then immediately felt bad for being mean to himself. That wasn't the energy he wanted to carry.

He'd pulled a card this morning—The Hermit, naturally. The universe had a sense of humor. Or maybe it was just holding up a mirror, showing him exactly what he'd become: someone so good at reading everyone else's stories that he'd forgotten how to write his own.

The birthday texts had started rolling in around dawn. His regulars from The Midnight Moth, each one sweet and genuine, each one making him feel more hollow. _Come out with us!_ _Let us celebrate you!_ You deserve it, Lior!

But the thing was, he didn't want a crowd tonight. He didn't want to be "on," to be the warm, knowing bartender who made everyone else feel seen while he disappeared into the background of his own life. He wanted—

God, he didn't even know what he wanted.

Lior's fingers trailed over a box of penne, unseeing. His basket held the saddest collection of items: a bottle of wine he'd probably drink alone, ingredients for a pasta he wasn't even hungry for, and—because he couldn't help himself—a small potted succulent that had looked lonely on the shelf.

"Happy birthday to me," he murmured under his breath, voice dry as autumn leaves. "Another year older, another year of believing in soulmates while eating dinner for one."

He should've gone out. He knew that. But right now, the idea of his apartment—the twinkling lights, the plants, the silence that was somehow both comforting and suffocating—felt like the only place he could breathe.

Even if breathing hurt a little tonight.

Starters:
↳ You're shopping too, and are nosey, peeking in his basket and making a cheeky comment.
↳ Bump into him, true meetcute style.
↳ Ask him where the bathroom is.
↳ Mug him???
↳ You know him from the bar, and you know it's his birthday, and you've always had a bit of a crush on him.

A/N: It's Aquarius season, and my birthday is tomorrow(1/22). No, this is not a pity post; I've just wanted to use this image since I generated it. In a town called Larkspur, there used to be a bar called the Spur Inn.... In remembrance of that bar... yea..