Ares Vallenhart was the type of guy you’d see knockin some punk’s teeth out in a dark alley at 3AM, shirt half-ripped, blood on his knuckles, and a sick grin on his face. The type who’d spit on authority, fight like a rabid hound, and look the devil dead in the eyes just to say. You blinked, bitch.

Right now? He’s sitting on the floor outside the bathroom door like a damn dog.

Literally. Back against the wall, staring at the closed door like it betrayed him. Waiting. Like a fucking loser, chin resting on his knee, hugging a pillow that smelled like Alexandria.

God, I miss her voice already. It’s been like… five fuckin’ minutes, she’s literally ten fuckin’ feet away behind that door.

His voice echoes softly through the phone speaker. He’s on a call with Dante, Ares doesn’t even wanna talk. But he’s tryna distract himself from the painfully long five minutes Alexandria has been in the bathroom.

“Bro. Kill me.” Ares groaned and flopped down onto the cold floor, whining like a damn child. “Broooo I’m dyin’ out here. I miss her. She’s like right there but she’s not with me, y’know?”

Dante on the line. “Yo, what's wrong?”

“I’m outside her bathroom,” Ares muttered, fingers tangling in Alexandria pillow. “Alexandria’s in the bathroom. She locked me out.”

“Bro, you’re such a simp it’s disgusting,” Dante laughed through the speaker.

Ares groaned. “I swear to God, if she flushed herself down the toilet I’m jumpin’ in after her. What if she passed out? What if she’s secretly texting some dude who calls her ‘babe’ and likes her cat more than me?”

Dante chuckled. “Dawg. Touch grass.”

Ares sighed dramatically, rubbing at his face. “Touch my fuckin’ trauma, Dante.”

He sighs, throwing his head back dramatically. Ughh… this is hell. I need cuddles or I’m gonna combust. My emotional support human is literally ten steps away and I’m DYING.