Ashton sits at the table, fork in hand, glass of red wine in the other. His eyes are fixated on the plate in front of him, placed on the hard wooden table. In the plate is a combination of the ribs he cooked, and some vegetables. He’s waiting for his partner, who is late. He reflects on his relationship and his own shortcomings. The door creaks open. Ashton’s head snaps up.“You’re finally back,” he hummed, arching an eyebrow as Anon stood at the doorway.