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The Triangle Bar was practically empty by the time Leeroy wandered through the doors. Riley was at the bar, as they always were, cleaning out classes and wiping down the counter without a care in the world. They jolted a bit as the door slammed, and their eyes followed Leeroy as he trailed hastily to a bar stool.
Riley opened their mouth to say something witty, something banterful, but the words caught in their throat as they took a good look at their moping friend. He was wearing a hoodie twice his side, with the hood draped so far over his face they were surprised he could see at all. All they could see was Leeroy’s mouth, tugged at the side with his teeth clenched and grinding mechanically.
So, they waited a moment. Riley finished polishing the glass they were holding before clinking it down in front of him. “The usual, Mateo?”
Leeroy said nothing.
“Hm. I’ll take that as a yes.” Riley chirped, preparing the shaker. “If you don’t drink it, I will.”
Leeroy’s hand clenched a little, and he scoffed quietly, the noise clicking in his teeth. Riley gave him another look up and down, and softened their eyes just enough to show a bit of support. They were careful not to look too worried. The last thing Leeroy needed right now was to be scared off with more emotions.
“So, what’s wrong with you?”
Again, nothing, but a small shiver rippled down his spine and as the hood fell back a bit Riley noticed a genuinely fearful look in his eyes. They darted about wildly, wide and tense and laced with tears he was desperately trying to ignore. Riley couldn’t recall ever seeing him like this. Any nonchalance they tried to maintain trickled away for a moment, and they drew closer to ask, “…did somebody hurt you? Threaten you?”
Leeroy’s hands were now fists, and the weight of his breathing was audible through his chest. He held his breath, just for a second, as if trying to speak, before sighing aggressively and just shaking his head.
“No? Not in danger. You’re ok?”
Once again, his breath faltered. There was a thickened air of silence between them, before Leeroy choked out a sob that he immediately regretted. He shook his head again, and turned his head pointedly down and away to avoid having to be seen by the concerned bartender.
Riley hummed thoughtfully, debating how best to get him to open up… or if they should be prying at all. Finishing Leeroy’s drink, they placed it in front of him and scanned eyes around the bar. It was certainly empty at this time of night, only two or three people left and all of them wrapping up a long night out. Glancing between the troubled man in front of them and the remaining customers, they made their choice.
“Alright everyone, bars closing for the night! Gotta get home sometime. I wish you all a safe journey home and let me know if you need me to call an Uber for anyone.”
Leeroy blinked and looked up for a moment. They were kicking him out? Right now? His eyes went blurry and as the rest of the bar-goers staggered off, he thrust himself up to leave too, furrowing his brow in anger.
Riley watched everybody leave, before stating (admittedly a lot more harshly than intended), “not you.” Leeroy froze. Riley intentionally sweetened their voice a tad and continued, “you have a drink to finish. AND, a story to tell, by the looks of it.”
Leeroy didn’t move.
“Ok, listen dude, you don’t have to say anything. But you came here, I’m assuming because you needed somewhere to go. Now I don’t get jackshit from whatever your baggage is, it’s, well, it’s not my business. But YOU look like you need a friend right now, and believe it or not, that’s me.” Riley shrugged and gave him a little pat on the back for extra effect, before mumbling, “now drink your drink, dumbass.”
Leeroy scoffed. He grumbled. Maybe he tried to say “fuck off” or “I don’t need you”, or even “we’re not friends”. But every word still burned his throat raw, and he didn’t want to leave. So, he turned around, and for the first time all night, fully faced Riley. Tears were now actively pouring down his face and he was wiping his nose on his sleeve, pawing at his face with his hands a bit in an attempt to get himself under control. This is stupid, he told himself. YOU’RE stupid. What the hell do you think you’re doing, stop fucking crying.
Riley leaned on the countertop, and gazed patiently and kindly at their friend. They could’ve sworn they heard him say “shit” at some point, although amidst all the crying and difficulty speaking it came out more as a whine.
This was strange for both of them. Riley had never seen Leeroy show emotion once since he started frequenting their bar, and Leeroy channelled every bone and fibre in his body into not LETTING himself show emotion. But, in the silence and seclusion of their beloved bar, maybe it wasn’t so bad.
So, against his better judgement and every screaming voice in his head telling him to just run off, Leeroy collapsed back into his seat. He tried so many times to say something, but he had no clue where to start, how to even try. Did he even know what was going on? Everything felt so… muffled, so blurry, like this entire part of him had been drowned underwater and he couldn’t swim deep enough to find it. Nothing made sense, and the growing, aching void in his stomach ate away at logic like a black hole.
“Alright,” Riley spoke, breaking the pause between them, “clearly this is rough for you, I get it. I’m not so good with talking like this either.” They sighed. “How about I tell YOU something personal about ME, and then we can try on your end, yeah?”
Leeroy stared daggers, hoping it would be enough to cut through whatever ‘game’ they were playing. Riley was an incredibly private person, and never really talked ANYTHING personal, despite how open they pretended to be as the owner of a queer bar, a safe place. What was in this for them? Why should he trust this?
Matching his suspicious stare, Riley narrowed their eyes right back at him and huffed a little laugh. “Suit yourself then, you little shit. I just thought it might help.” They turned around to clean one of the taps behind them, and under their breath, half hoping he wouldn’t hear them, muttered, “maybe I just finally wanted somebody to tell.”
Leeroy raised an eyebrow. He could say what he wanted about that bartender, but they sure knew how to pique an interest. Begrudgingly, he gave a nod and clasped the drink Riley had made for him. The colours had settled a lot by now, and the ice had gone misshapen as it begun to melt.
Riley grinned a little, and gave a steadying sigh. “Right, if you say a WORD, I swear to gods I will poison your next drink, got it?” A swell of pride bubbled in their stomach as they saw a fraction of a smile on Leeroy’s face. For a moment, it seemed like that dark cloud around him dissipated just a little.
“Ok. I met someone.” They purposefully twisted their head to avoid catching Leeroy’s eye, but they could feel his state intensify. “On the bus. A little while ago. We sat next to each other, and she was drawing in a little notepad. Her face was all… scrunched as she concentrated, and… shit, it was weird, like I knew her already, it felt - Well anyway, I mentioned that I liked her art and we got to talking. Next thing I know, we’re grabbing a coffee, at… yknow that little cafe on the corner? Run as a small business by two brothers? That one.”
Riley took a breath and ran their hand through their hair, the undercut rustling against the skin. “And… I really like her, alright?”
Leeroy widened his eyes and, in a mock look of horror, dropped his jaw. With the ever teasing twang leaking back into his voice, he was able to return to a sense of normalcy for just a few moments to give his friend a good old dose of ragebait. “YOU? Being all sappy and gross? Eugh, who would’ve thought you had feelings??”
“WHAT did I say?” Riley growled, throwing one of their hand towels at his face. Miraculously it managed to miss his glass, but he did get a face full of the stale smell of spilled beer, and he coughed, somewhat dramatically and accusingly.
“Don’t throw that at me, all those emotions might be CATCHING, EUGH.” Leeroy pinched the corner of the rag and threw it aside. His laugh pierced the groggy sadness in the air and it felt so weirdly relieving to have a friend that could make such a difficult night feel lighter. Comfort, SAFETY, it bubbled within him and allowed him to breathe.
Riley chuckled right along with him, their voice wobbling and dancing like a strip of ribbon. When the jokes died down, they circled the bar, their own drink in hand - Leeroy hadn’t even realised they were making it. They slumped themselves down on the seat beside their friend, hoping that not being face-to-face might make his words feel easier to speak.
“So, you know my shit. Wanna give yours a go?”
The colour drained from his face, like he’d completely forgotten it would be his turn at some point. No - rather he had been trying to ignore it, block it out of his mind with Riley’s new piece of gossip as a big and fragile wall.
But he knew there was no avoiding it forever. Of course there wasn’t. This feeling… whatever it was, whatever it NEEDED… it ate his guts away, and made his mind scream in a hundred different ways. This is not how life was supposed to be.
The pair sat a good while longer in a patient, but suffocating silence. Leroy’s lip quivered, as he experimented on how to coil any of it into coherent words. Every gulp of his drink was another attempt to drown the feeling altogether, before he had to say them at all. Riley sat quietly and warmly, never once looking over at him and instead running their fingers over the indentations of the glass they held. Their thumb traced the pink triangle decal on the bars logo over and over and over.
Finally, so silent it could’ve been mistaken as the whirr of the fridge, Leeroy muttered, “Something…. its- wrong.” Every word was effort, strained and broken, and the way his hand tapped uncontrollably at the bar table, the way his feet twitched, Riley could tell it took every ouch of will to not dart away, or lash out.
“It… hurts…. to think about it. How-“ his eye flickered, trying to flinch a nonexistent glance at the bartender. His voice had gone almost monotone, flat. “-how did you… do it?”
Riley took a moment to think, puzzled. “Do… what??” They asked, levelling their voice to be as neutral as possible.
“Figure… IT… out. Be okay…. with it.”
“With….” Riley trailed off, cogs clinking mercilessly in their head to save him from having to elaborate further. As they thought, they let their eyes wander about their bar. The art from amateur creators dotted on the walls, each stroke of a pencil or brush, every word crafted with love, with the carnal need to express themselves. The singular microphone in the corner, bartered off to every artist or poet or drag act who wanted a chance to be heard. The framed endorsement and congratulations from their dear friend Suzie, who’d helped them find this building when it was all disheveled and saw the vision when nobody else did. A blurry Polaroid of the pair of them on the day the bar opened, big smiles and tired eyes after sharing the work and labouring for months, was slotted in behind the glass too.
And finally, at the shaking friend beside them, who spent day after day at the bar that practically housed every queer person from the area, and who never seemed to smile more genuinely than when surrounded by “weirdos” and “oddballs”.
“With being queer?”
Leeroy said nothing. He was completely and agonisingly paralysed. After a deafening pause, he started to wheeze. Quiet at first, disbelieving, at Riley for saying it maybe, or at himself for even bringing it up. Then his face fell into his hand and he couldn’t hide the cracked smirk that split his face open, smile just as wide as his eyes as they brimmed over and glistened with tears. If he were cartoon, Riley reckoned they’d be popping right out of his skin.
Riley chose not to react. They simply swirled their drink around in their hand in thought. They chose their words incredibly carefully. “It’s not always easy to come to terms with it. I was always very jealous of the people that could just go ‘oh look, guess that’s me’ and go about their lives. For me, it was a process. A longgg and frustrating process.”
They shuffled in their chair, trying not to linger too long on those days they spent in the closet. “Maybe it’s figuring out who you can trust. Maybe it’s a bit of trial and error. Maybe it’s going to pride events or, heh, gay bars.” They gestured around, smiling a little.
“But… I guess before anything else, you have to come out to yourself. That’s the hardest part. It a part of you that’s real, and that’s the only you that you should really care about. Unfortunately, you have to CHOOSE to love yourself, to listen to yourself. To BE yourself. Even if you don’t get it. It’s not natural, it’s intentional.” They scoffed a moment. The words tasted… oddly familiar. What a weird Deja Vu.
Leeroy’s face, for once, was completely unreadable. It was almost blank. Riley sipped at their drink slowly, watching him through the reflection in the mirror slotted above the bar. The ripples of his hair flinched each time he blinked, but beyond that there was not a single frame of movement.
That was, until the side of his mouth twitched, just barely, and he uttered, “heh… cringe.”
Riley’s breath tangled with their drink, and they spluttered a bit. “You asked!!” They dug their elbow into Leeroy’s rib and got up to make their way back to the other side of the bar, flipping the discarded rag over their shoulder, effortlessly, in true bartender fashion.
“Anyway, you don’t have to say anything. I mean, hell, if you want, I never heard a thing, and this whole chat never even happened. But if there was ever a place to think about it, here is pretty damn good.” They winked, jokingly. “If I do say so myself.”
They went back to cleaning glasses, just as they had been doing before this night began. If they were being honest with themselves, they assumed that would be it. Not another word on the topic, they figured. The odds of Leeroy saying anything more were about as microscopic as the chance of him sprouting ears. The image drew a grin on their face that they had to smother away before he noticed.
Leeroy’s heart drummed against his ribs until he feared the bones would snap, and he’d scarcely let himself hear his own thoughts so loud. It was deafening, and confusing, and welcoming, all at once. He dared a look into the mirror above, and he was embarrassed to admit that he almost began to sob right there and then.
It was obvious. It was sickening. It made him scared to walk in his own skin, and proud to hear his breath in his lungs. He should’ve always known, or he should’ve never found out. It made no sense, but it was the missing piece. It all was some big contradiction, a complex ache he didn’t know what to do with, one that he felt happy to be holding and drained to be dragged down by. And in the moment, all he could think to do was taste it on his tongue.
“What if I’m a girl?”
…
Riley had their breath in a chokehold, firmly held in place behind her throat. They WANTED to spin around and cheer, or leap across the counter and hug their friend for such bravery. But they didn’t. Instead they swallowed the squeaking excitement and stated, plainly and softly, “then you’re a girl.” They turned around to sort next door’s takeout menus stacked on the counter. “And what a great thing that is.”
“…. For you. Leave me and my lack of gender out of it, thank you.”
Riley was sure the laughter that erupted behind them could’ve been heard from another realm.
⁃
“I’m sorry, a margarita, at this time of day? Absolutely not, buddy, sorry. I just can’t do that to you.” Riley shrugged as they spoke to a young and rather grumbly man who was hunched over the bar. “Look, we just set up a new cafe menu, coffees and shit. Give that a go, yeah?” They slid a new shiny sheet across the counter. The guy looked irritated, but one look at the neon flickering clock in the corner made him sigh and grab their menu. Riley rolled their eyes and turned away to manage another customer.
It had been a few months since their discussion with Leeroy. He’d been popping into the bar less, and when he did he often over-performed, acted avoidant and left quick. Riley would be lying if they said they weren’t a bit worried, but they’d made up their mind that despite everything they’d leave him be.
That night, after he left, Riley got a montage of texts rattling their phone. Some in all caps, some spammed with emojis like he was trying to be funny. All deleted before they were able to actually read them. After a good hour or two of pondering on what to say, Riley had texted back nothing but a simple few words.
“You’re in charge of you, dude. You’re the same asshole to me either way.” [read]
“Don’t freak out too much about it.” [read]
After that it was radio silence.
…
“You in there, sweetie?” A tall, older woman with vibrant makeup waved at Riley lightly from a few seats across, snapping them out of their own head.
Riley blinked a few times. “Yes, sorry. What can I get you? I love the look.”
As they took in the customer’s request and spun around to make it, they noticed the front door swing out of the corner of their eye. A figure approached the bar, and over their shoulder they called, “be with you in a minute!”
A well-known and oddly wobbly voice replied, “don’t bother, you know my drink.”
Riley stood blankly there for a second, before snapping around so fast it was probably a miracle they didn’t get whiplash. A familiar mop of raven hair glinted in their eye, and they couldn’t stop the smile from spreading through their lips. “Mateo! There you are, you little shit.”
Leeroy leaned on the bar top, faking an offended look with a scrunch of his nose. “Really, nothing nice to say? Wowwww, rude.”
“Don’t make me say I missed you.” Handing a drink to the kind woman beside him at the bar, Riley properly approached their friend. As he stood himself up straight, his outfit caught their eye.
Leeroy was wearing mostly his usual attire. A ripped black band shirt, and his rotting old converse. But instead of his regular old jeans, he was wearing a mid length, flared skirt, dark and laced with silver, admittedly cheap looking chains. It looked quite fitting, and Riley reckoned it made him stand a little taller.
“The outfit’s new. It looks good on you!” Riley declared, sincerely and through an impossibly large smile. Leeroy quickly matched it, although his was weaved with a trace of awkwardness.
“Thanks, uh… it’s Abigail’s. Think she probably saw me looking at it a few times when I was living with her. Let me have it.”
Riley nodded. “Yeahhh, I thought I recognised it. I have to ask, you reckon some new pronouns are in order?”
“Not- yet.” Leeroy answered, fairly quickly. “It’s all… TOO new.” He fiddled with the ends of the skirt and pulled himself up onto a stool.
Riley nodded, and turned away once more to fiddle with the shaker. The woman in the seat across, who’d been listening politely to their interaction, spoke up as she reapplied lip gloss. “Well, you look very pretty, dear.”
Riley could practically HEAR Leeroy’s heart thump, and when they placed the drink in front of their friend, a sheepish voice mumbled, “maybe try she/her, I guess.”