I Lost A Bet

Singing In The Shower

'Hades did not have the patience to deal with this today. For Cronus' sake, he had literally gone out with Zeus last week, how on Earth could he need to have another "family meeting" already. If anything, he needed a Hades night?! He had just broken it off with the girl he had been on and off with for years; there's no possible way Zeus' needed more "brotherly support" over his most recent fling than Hades did. His day had left him tempted to drive his car into a tree (not that there were many in the Underworld), and he just wanted some alone time to sort out his emotions. Honestly, he couldn't tell if the break with Minthe left him heartbroken, furious, or relieved (he was pretty sure it was a little bit of everything which was a bit overwhelming for a guy with the emotional intelligence of a rock). At this point, he was almost considering calling them up and canceling, but he knew Zeus would just drag him out regardless. To Hades, the ideal night consisted of fine cigars, some whiskey, and a crappy rom-com (sue him, he's a hopeless romantic). He would rather be cuddled up with his dogs (and preferably a curvy pink goddess) than out socializing, but, alas, instead he was being dragged out to some bar (strip club) with his obnoxious brothers. At least alcohol was involved; he was positive he would be drinking far more than usual tonight.

With a huff, Hades finally pulled into his driveway. Traffic had been terrible, only worsening his foul mood, and he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to battle an oncoming migraine. He strode up to his door in the familiar dark chill of the underworld and threw it open to greet his babies. Well, he might as well start off the night in a decent mood, and nothing put his head in the right space like his pooches. Crouching down to scratch them in greeting, he was practically tackled by Cerberus. Who knew ending up under a pile of slobbering dogs was exactly what he needed. Hades let out a deep sigh, just releasing all the pent up stress and emotion from the day. He raked his hand through his usually sculpted white hair, mussing it up a bit into its more natural loose waves. Extracting himself from the dog-pile with difficulty, he rose to his feet and headed to his room to shower. 

Throwing his suit jacket on the nearby desk chair he finally let himself relax, the usual stiff posture eased from his tense shoulders, and he fell onto his bed with a huff. He pulled out his phone and flicked to Musify. Tonight he was going to indulge in his rock; he didn't care how "immature" it was, according to Minthe. To hell with that, he didn't owe her anything (regardless of the fact that he was itching to roll up to her house with a diamond necklace and an apology on his lips; what can he say, old habits die hard). Gah, he had to stay so calm and collected at work, and, trust him, he was anything but on the inside. Singing (screaming) in the shower was the perfect release for all the anger and sadness from a day that was truly shit.

As usual, his dogs were his only audience. He wasn't going to be caught dead singing in front of anyone else (he had heard Minthe bitch enough about the quality of his voice the few times she had heard him). He turned on the water, connected his phone to the speaker, and clicked on his favorite playlist featuring Fall Down Boy, All-Democratic Rejects, Wink-182, Sage Day, and similar bands. Gods, I'm such an emo teen, he thought to himself with a chuckle. Still, he couldn't deny the familiar base practically shaking the room comforted him. As he stepped under the spray, he began mumbling the lyrics of the songs he knew by heart, getting more confident as it played. When it got to the chorus, he couldn't help but belt out,

"And it's all in my head, but she's touching his

Chest now, he takes off her

Dress now, let me go

And I just can't look; it's killing me

They're taking control

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies,

choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay,

destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, '

cause I'm Mr. Brightside"

     Though he would never admit it, he definitely grabbed the shampoo bottle and sang into it like a microphone as he danced around the extravagant black tile shower. Though he acted like a total prude at most parties to keep up the appearance of a professional (and kind of depressing) businessman and king, secretly, he was quite proud of the fact he could keep up with most beats and often itched to join his immature brothers twirling their wives around the dance floor (to this day, learning to moonwalk was one his top achievements in the last decade- it was really hard okay). It's not like anyone other than the dogs, and maybe Hecate when he was absolutely pounded, actually saw him. At the end of the song, a small grin remained on his face as he stepped out and toweled off. It had been way too long since he had jammed out (and probably burst his neighbors eardrums) like that. He glanced in the mirror, and was greeted with a messy spiky mess of hair that left him looking ten years younger, and if he was honest, he preferred it this way. He gave himself a cheeky wink and laughed, almost considering wearing it to the bar as a final "fuck it". Unfortunately, a glance at his phone told him he had under 45 minutes to get there, and, as fucked up as it was, masks of all kinds were necessary for anyone in the spotlight. He would only leave his house looking perfect; armor of a different kind was required in the battle for public respect. Anything less and the paparazzi would be on him like a pack of wolves. He can see the headlines now, "Hades is Falling Apart: Will Minthe Give Him Another Chance." Yeah right, he scoffed, half of his brain telling him he didn't need her and the other whispering she'd never take him back. Besides, his appearance had to reflect his station as CEO and king, so gelled hair and sharp suits it was (as much as he loved his vintage band tees).

     He pulled on a simple black dress shirt, still singing under his breath, styled his hair, and paused his music. Giving himself a last once-over in the mirror as he walked out, he grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, and headed to his car. Though his brother had no qualms in being 40 minutes late to his brunches, Hades knew better than to be tardy to one of the "King of God's" gatherings. (Even though he was technically older, his brother could throw one hell of a righteous-anger filled tantrum, and Hades did not want to deal with that tonight).