Chapter 17

Ice cream had been hadby all. I kept my opinions about Won-Ho's love of chocolate chip mint to myself. The kids asked him a thousand questions about being a lawyer. Once he let himself relax, he opened up. By the second scoop, he shared stories, ensuring the kids knew they could grow up to be crime fighters. He and Dae had continued talking, and I hoped it had given Won-Ho a sense of peace.

We had gone about our days with a promise to meet tonight. I told him casual and sexy. When I spotted him in his henley, the buttons were open enough to reveal chest hair and his tattoos. Now we stood outside a bar, and I spotted the similar distress from earlier.

"I don't know about this."

"Would I put you in danger?"

"Damien, danger is your shadow."

"I want to address earlier." This had been eating at me since the gymnasium. "You didn't have to get between Bernard and me."

"Should I have let him kill you in front of children?"

I let out a low growl. I appreciated he had put himself in the line of fire on my behalf. It might even be considered sweet. While another might swoon over his valor, I didn't need somebody fighting my battles. Not even Won-Ho would be safe if he got between Sentinel and me.

"It's not about trading blows," he said. "He's fundamentally wrong."

He had my attention. "About?"

"You're no saint, and I'm sure any jury would agree."

"Not winning points."

"Don't interrupt a closing statement." He gave me a wink. "While you might have a reputation tarnished by tabloids and your less-than-savory recreational activities, I… we… can't ignore that underneath the slanderous headlines, there is a man attempting to make a positive impact."

I bit back my reply. While I wanted to jest and make light of the comment, I don't think I've ever had somebody see more than my ruthless endeavors. Whatever irked feelings I tried to muster were drowned by… appreciation? I feared Won-Ho made me soft, but now I worried he made me sentimental. When I met my death, I'd have him lobby for my entry into Heaven.

The conversation stopped, and his eyes shot to his feet as two gentlemen approached. I wouldn't have taken note, except the older man shot a wink in my direction. But it wasn't for me as he looked at Won-Ho. His not-so-subtle appreciation of my companion made me smile. They slipped inside the bar.

"We go in. Have a drink. Comment on the smell of desperation. We leave."

Won-Ho looked up, his shoulders sinking. It wasn't the reaction I hoped for. It came as a stark comparison to his victory cries with the kids. I didn't want to force him, not if he wasn't ready. Contrary to popular belief, I received no satisfaction from torture. While I wouldn't describe my actions as selfless, they benefited Won-Ho. Mostly.

I was about to relent and offer a stroll through the public gardens when he stepped forward. With gusto, he threw open the door, allowing the music from the jukebox to flood the street. He froze. I stepped behind him, and with a slight shove, Won-Ho could finally say he had stepped foot inside a gay bar.

"And somehow, you didn't burst into flames," I joked.

"One drink," he muttered.

It wasn't much different from Haven. In front of us, a bar ran the length of the room. Unlike Haven, this had several half-naked men making cocktails. To the left, there were tables on what I assumed was a makeshift dance floor, complete with a stage barely clearing six inches. It wasn't the fanciest of places, but it was the only bar without a leather requirement or hosting a dance party. Won-Ho wasn't quite ready for that.

I pointed to a couple of stools at the bar. Won-Ho kept his eyes on the floor as he moved forward. Meanwhile, I couldn't help but notice the two bears in the back corner making out or the group of twinks around a table laughing over a joke. It might as well have been labeled as a generic gay bar. It reminded me of my younger years when I'd go on the prowl for meaningless flings. Chances were, at some point, I had slept with at least one patron.

I tried to soften Won-Ho's discomfort. "You're looking rather handsome this evening."

We got situated, and a bartender came over. In jeans and a leather harness, he leaned on the bar. "I agree, damn good-looking. What can I get you, fellas?"

"Whisky, top shelf." I glanced at Won-Ho, who continued looking anywhere but at the people. "Same for my friend."

With a quick slap of the counter, he was off to get our drinks. Won-Ho looked incredibly uncomfortable. Guilt. I had been with plenty of men who discovered themselves later in life. Finding this new version required confronting their pasts, and from what I knew of Won-Ho, it wasn't a simple ‘get over it' moment.

I rested a hand in the middle of his back. "Do me a favor. In the back corner, what do you see?"

The bartender set down our drinks while Won-Ho worked up the courage to engage with his environment. He stole a quick glance before returning to the safety of his drink. A moment later, he looked again, eyes lingering on the two men rounding second base.

"Are they…"

"Making out? Yes." The way they clawed at one another, it wouldn't be long before one of them suggested a location to take their affair further. "And nobody here cares. In fact…" I flagged down the bartender. "What's going on with those two in the back?"

"Chuck and Frankie? Chuck just got out of a terrible relationship. He's been friends with Frankie forever. By the looks of it, their friendship is about to level up. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on that wall."

As quickly as he appeared, he dashed off to a group sitting down at the bar. "We're not all friends. Most of these men, I wouldn't give the time of day, but that's not because of who they take to bed. It's a brotherhood of sorts, and the price of admission is self-acceptance."

Won-Ho found the courage to scan the room. It was a lot to take in, especially for his first time. Out of the hundred men stuffed into the bar, we had examples of every type of gay. I stopped rubbing his back and snatched my whisky.

"You don't see it, do you?"

I took a quick survey of the room, looking for anything that stood out. Bears. Check. Twinks. Check. The geeks. Check. Men in rubber. Check. Yeah, everything looked pretty normal to me.

"I'm obviously missing something."

"Spoken like a white man."

Oh. With another scan of the room, I saw his point. There were a few men of color. If I had to give it a number, I'd say that ninety percent of the room was white men. I saw men as men and didn't dwell on our differences. I needed to reexamine my privilege.

"I see your point."

"My people value tradition and have a strong sense of family values. Once you mix in our religious upbringing, there is a certain amount of necessary conformity. Marrying Min and having a baby… it was more important to my family than passing the bar."

There were plenty of times I'd leap into the conversation, turning the spotlight on myself. This wasn't one of those times. For once, I shrunk, giving Won-Ho the space he needed to process.

"What happened?"

He lifted his glass, sniffing the whisky. In a single gulp, he swallowed it all. Without saying a word, I gestured to the bartender for two more.

"My marriage to Min had been arranged by our families. We had barely talked before the announcement. She had a smile that warmed your heart. I knew something felt off, but it was the turn of the century, and in Korea town, it's not like there was a word to explain it. We got married. It wasn't long before our families asked about children."

The bartender set down another glass. Won-Ho stared off into space. His face went from sullen to smiling. Whatever memories he held of her, they weren't all bad.

"I loved her the best I could."

His words held a sense of longing flavored with regret. He took a swig of his drink. In the corner, the two men had come up for air. I assumed they'd head out to rut in private. The beefier of the two had rested his head on his partner's shoulder, casually rubbing his chest as they spoke. The steam hadn't vanished, but it had turned into something more intimate. I admired their ability to exist together, not caring what prying eyes might think.

I let out a long sigh. I wanted that for Won-Ho.

"Jin-Ae died in a chemical fire at the factory she worked at. I wasn't there to save her. I could have?—"

"No, you're not allowed to shoulder that burden. You can't be responsible for the safety of every person in Vanguard."

"She wasn't any person. How can I protect the city when I can't protect my own daughter?"

"You have no debt to the universe. You've spent your life protecting the innocent. But—" He started to speak, but I held up my hand. He needed to hear this. "You're allowed to be who you are. Min deserved happiness, but so do you. Every man here had to make that decision for themselves. Please society, or please themselves."

"Who I am cost me my marriage, my family…" Those he accepted. Whatever journey he had been on, those hurdles he had jumped. Those weren't what ate away at him. "Min took Dae's mother away." He reached over, putting a hand on my arm. He gave it a quick squeeze. "Thank you for today."

I suspected he meant kickball more than the gay bar. I'd put both in my victory column. "Nobody in this bar has an identical coming out story. But we all had that moment, the epiphany where we realized why we're different. You're not alone."

"Honey, we all have baggage." On the other side of Won-Ho, a large… person sat down. Despite the perfectly manicured beard, dyed a rich purple, they wore dangling earrings and sported a hairdo straight from the 80s. "Just make sure it matches, and you'll be fine. Oscar, who do I have to hump for a beer?"

I nearly choked. I couldn't argue with the logic. "To matching baggage." I held up my glass. Oscar popped the cap off a bottle and handed it to our new friend. They clanked glasses, waiting until Won-Ho joined in.

"Alright, gentlemen, I need to mingle. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." They leaned close to Won-Ho. "I do it all. Have yourself a freaky night." With that, they wandered off.

"That's a story I wouldn't mind hearing," I said with a smile. Won-Ho's eyes had gone wide. "Should we head out?"

Won-Ho slowly spun about on his stool. I watched his face as he took in the crowd. If he thought I didn't catch him lingering on the leather daddies leaning against the wall, he was fooling himself. When he made a full rotation, his legs straddling me, I knew the answer. It wasn't the grand acceptance I hoped for, but any connection meant he allowed himself to dream about the possibilities.

"We can stay a little longer."

"Another round, barkeep," Won-Ho declared.

The bartender's eyebrow went up. He held the strip of leather, crossing his chest. "How old are you?"

Won-Ho's hand shot over my mouth. Ironic that the man creeping on triple digits silenced me. "Get us whatever is expensive."

I squeezed his hand, pulling it from my mouth. "It's like you know me."

"That's what worries me…"