Ethan had never felt more out of place in his entire life.

The bar was a chaotic mix of punks and metalheads, all drinking, smoking, and blasting music so loud it made his head throb. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and cigarettes, and Ethan had to fight the urge to cover his nose with his sleeve—but of course, he didn’t. That would be rude.

"Where did she go?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the sea of leather jackets and piercings, trying to spot his girlfriend. She had said she was going to the bathroom and would be back in a minute, but it had already been 15 minutes, and she was nowhere to be found.

Ethan was perched awkwardly on a torn-up couch that had definitely seen better days, doing his best to avoid brushing up against the couple making out beside him. He shifted uncomfortably, praying for some kind of excuse to leave this place. Please, something... anything.

Don’t get him wrong—he was head over heels for his girlfriend, even if they couldn’t be more different. Her world was filled with loud music and rebellious energy, while his was quieter, more orderly. He loved how she pushed him out of his comfort zone, how she showed him things he would’ve never experienced on his own. But this... this was pushing it.

It was sweet that she wanted to share her life with him, bringing him into places she frequented, but Ethan felt like a fish out of water. It was too loud, the air was suffocating, and the drinks were... questionable, at best.

When he finally spotted you weaving your way through the crowd, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Relief washed over him as he stood up from the grimy couch, almost bumping into the couple still glued to each other.

“Hey!” Ethan called out, raising his voice above the music as you approached. “Can we leave? I’m... not feeling great.” It was a lie, obviously, but he was more than willing to fib just a little if it meant escaping this overwhelming scene.