This time I had to write the same scene from two different perspectives, which is quite an interesting assignement to me. The characters appearing in this story are from Neverbeen Universe, so you also have the chance to get to know them better. But without further ado, here is what I've done with it:
2016/02/24 – write the same scene from two perspectives
After a couple of months he came to the same bar, the bar he used to frequent with his late wife. He would sit in the same booth, order a drink or two, and sip them slowly until the glasses were as empty as the seat beside him and his eyes were full of her.Another round and he would try to pick up the pieces of his broken heart. His mind was crowded with the memories of a lost past, a lost happiness. He didn't drink to make worse things better, because they wouldn't be and he knew that. But he drank to honour her; in his mind he toasted to her and relived the old days that were as fresh on his mind as the deep wound she had left behind.He was a weary and wry man now; couldn't even recognize his own face in the reflection of his drink. He just wasn't himself without her; the world passed him by in a blur whereas he had stopped frozen in time. He hadn't been a good father lately, and he was letting his work slide.A drag from his cigarette; the cold ashes slid down his throat, scratched at the lump that started building up again as his heart constricted.But then a voice tore through the haze of mourning. “Jack,” the man addressed him and set two drinks in front of him, his favourite cocktail and a cognac. “Good to see you again. I wouldn't have thought you might come in this kind of weather,” he smiled. “Here, this will warm you up.” Outside it was raining cats and dogs, and he would have all but forgotten about the weather if it wasn't for the rain in his heart. Bleary-eyed he looked at the barkeeper, a familiar face, a friendly face. His mind didn't supply a name yet, it was too full with her. So he just nodded and said his thanks.“You look better today,” the barkeeper observed, “For the past few months you've been so glum.” Glum was an understatement. He felt swamped with the darkness of a broken heart, the roaring emptiness where his wife used to illuminate his world. “I hope I haven't dragged you down with my mood,” he murmured and cast his eyes down at the drinks. He downed the cognac and felt its burn; it dried up the tears that threatened to overwhelm him.“I simply noticed,” the barkeeper shook his head. His hair was as clover green as his eyes. Clover - Trébol. He remembered. “I see.” Finally he tried the cocktail. It tasted sweet and strong, reminded him of a happiness he once held so dear.While Trébol excused himself and hurried to the owner of the bar he sipped another slug and let himself be immersed in the warmth the drink elicited. He took a deep breath and felt the hurt subside a little bit. He wasn't tipsy yet, but he felt a bit lightheaded; the kind of lightheaded after having cried too much. Forlornly his gaze hung at Trébol's distant form; yet he stared into the void, saw and didn't see the thunderstorm arising.Finally he took another breath and stood. With the almost empty glass in hand he moved over to the otherwise crowdless counter and sat on a stool. “Another, please,” he ordered when Trébol was back behind the counter. When the barkeeper smiled at him he somehow managed a lopsided, albeit shaky grin. “How come you swap seats? Not that I mind,” Trébol asked while he fixed him a drink. “Thought I'd keep you company,” he murmured and tentatively added, “You seemed troubled?” He remembered venting his sadness to this very barkeeper all these months, and it seemed Trébol really cared. He was grateful for that. Maybe he could lend an ear in return.
He sighed and hesitated. Right from the moment he entered his eyes lay on the man, who seemed so kindhearted and gentle months ago and now was so broken. There he sat in his usual booth, so forlornly, so lonesome. He knew that a broken heart wouldn't heal so easily, especially if the other half was torn out by death. He felt for Jack, he really did. He would fall again, give up all of his magic, rip out his own heart, if only that brought Jack's happiness back. But there was nothing he could do to bring his wife back from the dead.Instead he was there, would always be there if only this very regular customer let him. But Jack was caught in the vicious circle of his own crumpled world. Again he sighed; his heart hurt for him. So he took heart and left the counter to serve his regular his favourite drink. Secretly he spiked the cocktail with his own magic; just a little spell to make him feel better. For he would never harm his secret crush.“Jack,” he tried to catch his attention when he approached his table. “Good to see you again. I wouldn't have thought you might come in this kind of weather,” he smiled gently, “Here, this will warm you up.” With utterly sad eyes the deranged man looked at him; it was heart-rendering and agonizing to see him in this state. How he wished he could make all the sadness go away. “Thank you,” Jack almost whispered.He sighed and smiled comfortingly. “You look better today,” he noticed and gently added, “For the past few months you've been so glum.” Jack had told him quite a bit what was weighing on the author's mind: about the loss he suffered, about the love he missed and the emptiness that settled instead. “I hope I haven't dragged you down with my mood,” Jack murmured and averted his eyes. It instantly warmed his heart. There was a glimmer of the Jack he had always loved from afar, a sparkle of selflessness and kindness. The Jack he knew would always think of others first. Emotion overwhelmed him, but he wouldn't show more than an honest smile. “I simply noticed,” he thwarted.“I see,” Jack took the bait; of course he wouldn't catch what wasn't important to him. He was contented to be on the periphery of the author's vision as long as he could watch over him like the guardian angel he would have been had he not fallen. Talking to him was more than a bonus.“Trébol, come here this instant!” the owner of 'Rakuen' barked however. His boss. Inwardly he sighed. “Excuse me please,” he apologetically smiled at Jack and hurried over there. Talks with his boss were never pleasant and often got out of hand. The darkelf didn't like if he chatted too long with customers, then he didn't like when he paid less attention to persistent customers, and he also didn't like if he thwarted those who were encroaching towards the dancers and singers, not to mention those who tried to hit on him, too. During business hours boss owned his staff as much as he owned the bar.Still he would do what he felt was right instead of always abiding by his boss's rules. “Don't dilly-dally with that guy; there are other customers who need serving. So go do your damn job, Trébol! You got me?” the darkelf growled. He nodded. “Understood,” he murmured and averted his gaze. He didn't want to get bum rap if he could avoid it. Luckily boss let him off the hook for now and left.So he returned to the counter. “Another, please,” he was surprised by Jack's presence, and it was a pleasant surprise. Instantly his smile returned and his heart made a little leap when Jack half-grinned back. Of course he fixed him that drink, shook the shaker rhythmically to the music and poured him the cocktail. “How come you swap seats? Not that I mind,” he was curious.For years Jack had frequented the same booth, mostly with his wife when she still had been alive. Sitting at the counter definitely was new. Maybe the little magic worked better than he would have guessed.“Thought I'd keep you company,” Jack murmured. His heart took another leap; his smile was genuine. The author finally noticed him; this was also new, and the best surprise to an otherwise shitty day. Jack seemed to have caught onto that also. “You seemed troubled?” he cautiously asked. He blinked and looked at Jack.“Oh, just the usual,” he thwarted and slightly smiled, “To think you have noticed...” This was too good to be true. He shrugged. “Well, you can't teach an old dog new tricks, right? And this leopard can't change its spots,” he smiled more gently. But Jack surprised him once again: “Why would you want to? I think like this you are the most taking.”He didn't know if his heart could take any more of these tiny gestures that incited so much hope. But he embraced all of them, all of what Jack had to offer; even if it was unintentional. “Thank you, Jack. I'm really glad,” he told him honestly. The more they talked the more his heart blazed up. Because there was life returning to Jack's eyes, and for a while he seemed to forget about his sadness. And by the end of the day the two of them even became friends.Who knew what good a well meant little magic could do.
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