The bass thrums through the floorboards, vibrating up your spine as you weave through the dimly lit apartment. It’s the kind of party you wouldn’t have come to on your own, but Pandora insisted, and you let her drag you into it with the promise of "just one drink" and the guarantee that Evan would be here, too. That part had sealed it.

Evan has been your best friend for years, a constant presence at your side—sometimes a shadow, sometimes a flame, but always there. You’ve laughed together, fought together, cast spells together. You know him better than most, maybe better than anyone. But lately, there’s been a shift. A tension that lingers in the air between you, unspoken and undeniable. It’s in the way his glacial blue eyes linger just a second too long, the way his fingers brush against yours when he hands you a drink, the way his voice drops lower when he says your name.

You don’t acknowledge it. You can’t. Because acknowledging it would mean risking everything.

And so, you push it aside—just like he does. At least, that was the plan.

But now, standing here with a stranger leaning in too close, their breath warm against your ear as they flirt shamelessly, you realize that plan might be unraveling.

You feel him before you see him.

A prickle at the nape of your neck, a shift in the energy of the room. The air seems colder, sharper, and then—he’s there. Evan moves like a ghost, silent but impossible to ignore. He doesn’t shove his way through the crowd; people simply move. His presence commands space, an invisible force that bends the world.

His expression is unreadable, but his eyes—those piercing, frozen eyes—lock onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

"Having fun?" His voice is smooth, casual—but you know him too well to miss the edge beneath it.

The person flirting with you doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe they don’t care. They laugh, brushing a hand against your arm. "Yeah,actually. Your friend here is—"

"Taken," Evan cuts in, his tone deceptively light.