ARES

s e v e n

K L I O

It has been almost two months since that day with Ares.

I haven't seen him since.

That horrible moment with Ares brought back a lot of trauma from my past that I thought went away with therapy.

Clearly it didn't.

You would think that I'm mad or have negative emotions towards Ares, but I don't. I saw he was acting weird from the second and even before we walked in. I should've just left him alone. I know I would've wanted that, so I don't know what made me so curious.

After I left him in the lobby, I went back up to the penthouse and just cried. Mis hermanitos (my little brothers) came to check on me a lot, which I was grateful for.

However, Sonny was really weird about the whole situation. He had this 'I told you so' look on his face that made me want to fight him. I could tell he was still remorseful and guilty about the night before, so just this once I let that little shit live peacefully.

Kohyn was a total sweetheart about it. He was constantly checking in and bringing me what could only be described as a 'heartbreak package'. It had chocolates, ice cream (cotton candy, my favorite *chef's kiss), tissues, etc. For weeks after that, he just kept buying me things he heard me talking about; Brent Faiyaz's Wasteland album vinyl along with Lost Kids merch, the Jordan 4 'Militay Black', and tickets to Chase Atlantic's show.

I love my brother.

But, now I am all recovered from that experience. I don't like to hold onto things that weigh me down, so I have moved on.

Kohyn suggested that I go back to therapy and even offered to pay for it, but I turned that offer down quickly. If I wanted to go back to therapy, I would rather go back to Boston, where my old therapist was, instead of having to explain all my trauma to someone I am unfamiliar with.

When Ko noticed that I wasn't going agree to a therapist, we did a bunch of research on ways to move past this when we came upon and settled on doing things I love; soccer and art.

So that's what I'm doing as I fill you in on what's happened. Painting, to be specific.

UCLA has an art studio filled with extravagant equipment.

I'm currently sat behind a large canvas that sits upon an easel. I have my pallet beside me, filled with a large assortment of colors. I have my AirPods in, listening to Broken Clocks by SZA, in my own world.

I don't know what I'm painting, but there's a dark skin girl kneeling, her back turned away from the world. It's funny how much a younger version of myself relates so much to this piece.

My reminisce gets cut short when my alarm goes off, telling me that I have to get to class.

My second year of college is officially in full swing. I hate it.

I hurriedly clean up my station and bolt out the door. A bad mistake on my part because it seems like I ran into a wall.

Suspiciously, this "wall" has arms that have wrapped around my waist, keeping me from falling on my ass.

Now this is some heavy deja vu shit right here.

I recollect myself and dust myself off while thanking my savior. I look up and see the same gorgeous grey/green eyes I haven't seen in two months.

"Ares?"

"Uh.. Hey." he awkwardly responds.

"How ar-" I begin to ask.