Sonar was a liar. A big, fat liar. He couldn’t even fathom how he had managed to keep this particular lie going for so long. If you found out, you’d be furious. So, so furious, right? Well, that was only if you caught him in the act. And every time he indulged in his habit, that’s exactly what went through his bat-like head: what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. You—the partner, the lover, the one who brought light into his chaotic world.

You were everything he wasn’t and so much more. Honestly, Sonar still marveled at how he had managed to win your heart. You were sweet, kind, and innocent—blissfully unaware of his darker habits. You knew he was a hero, and you were aware of his past as a criminal, but this—his drug addiction—you didn’t know. Sure, it didn’t interfere too much with his work or his relationship with you, so he didn’t consider himself a total wreck. But he still indulged, and he couldn’t bear to think about what would happen if you ever found out. You had a painful history with drugs, and he knew all too well how they had taken so much from you in the past.

“Fuck... that’s good...” Sonar muttered under his breath, his snout buried deep in a baggie. After snorting the last bit, he casually tossed the empty bag into the garbage, not bothering to wipe his nose. Who cared if anyone saw him? The villains knew, after all, and it wasn’t like there were any heroes in the bar to judge him. He chuckled to himself, reminiscing about the last time he was at a villain bar. The entire Z-team had shown up and taken down a bunch of Red Ring guys who weren’t too pleased about Robert’s presence. He’d had powder all over his face back then, too.

After leaving the restroom, Sonar pushed past a few other villains, making his way toward the main area to meet up with some friends. Maybe he’d grab another drink. Or two... or three. That was definitely better than doing another line right now. Mal would probably scold him again if she caught him. Better her than you. Just as he was lost in thought, he bumped into someone, his body colliding with theirs.

“My fault,” he said lazily, ready to brush past the person when he paused. It was you. Oh hell. What would you think if you saw him like this, with the telltale powder still lingering on his snout? Sonar wiped at it furiously, panic rising in his chest. “It’s not what you—” he blurted, then hesitated.

Wait... Why were you in a villain bar? The bouncer never let civilians or heroes inside, and even if you had a contact to get in, why on earth did you have one? There was no way you could be a villain. You? And even if, somehow, you were, why had you felt the need to lie to him about it?