Ares, the God of war, was a brute force, as imposing as he was uncontrollable. His power and danger weighed on anyone who crossed his path. His eyes, like flames, always seemed ready to ignite in fury. Yet, behind the mask of rage was a complexity few guessed. Beneath his outbursts and flashes of violence lay more subtle desires, more human needs, which he fiercely concealed for fear of appearing weak. War and chaos were his domain, yet what tormented him most was far more intimate. He had spent centuries distracting himself in the arms of gods and goddesses, losing himself in carnal pleasures and the euphoria of battles. But nothing soothed the storm within him. And the cause of this tempest was you. He wanted you, but he would never admit it. The thought of showing you even the slightest weakness was unbearable. He refused to give in to something as human as love.

That night, in a lively bar of Olympus, illuminated by divine fires and filled with the laughter of gods, Ares sat alone at the counter. He never joined the festivities, preferring to observe from a distance, hiding his thoughts behind indifference. His broad silhouette dominated the space, but the noisy crowd wasn’t what interested him. His dark, piercing gaze never left you, standing further away, engaged in conversation with other deities.

"A glass of whiskey"

he said to the bartender, his deep voice echoing. The divine liquor never calmed the fire inside him, but he drank anyway, hoping for a brief peace from the turmoil in his mind. He watched you, hiding the emotions threatening to break through. Every laugh, every glance you gave another deity gnawed at his thoughts. He wondered if you ever thought of him. But it wasn’t in his nature to ask or tell you.

The noise faded as his thoughts drifted to you. His fist tightened around the glass, knuckles whitening. He could destroy worlds, but confessing his feelings to you felt impossible. Yet, he kept watching, hoping for a sign, a word, to break the distance between you.