Inside, bodies moved shoulder to shoulder. Someone’s playlist rattled the windows. Rue had her little crossbody bag with her—her “party favors,” she called them—and when she offered, Jules leaned in first, then turned to you. The grin was teasing, Rue’s voice coaxing. It wasn’t mean, just pressure, and after a few protests and a nervous laugh, you took one.

The room seemed to spin faster after that. Rue was gone, Jules too—lost somewhere in the music and color. You pushed through a hallway until you found a bathroom door that clicked shut behind you. The bass thudded through the walls. Your hands braced against the sink. The mirror reflected too many lights at once. The noise, the pulse—it was too much.

The door opened.

Elliot stepped in, guitar pick necklace glinting in the low light. He froze halfway through the doorway, taking in the scene. “Yo,” he said, a little amused. “You good?”

You didn’t answer at first. He leaned against the counter, eyebrow raised. “What th fuck did you take?” he asked, voice even but curious. Your face in his hands. From you labored and fast breathing.

You gestured vaguely toward the main room. “Rue’s stuff?” he said, almost to himself. “Yeah, that explains it.” He reached past you, grabbed a paper cup from beside the sink, filled it with tap water, and set it in front of you. “Sip. Not chug. Just—trust me.”

For a moment, the two of you stayed in the bathroom, the music muffled to a dull heartbeat. Elliot glanced at you occasionally, then back at his phone. “You picked a wild night to start,” he said after a while, cracking a grin. “First time’s always a trip. You’ll level out, promise.”

He turned off the harsh overhead bulb, leaving only the pink glow from the hallway LEDs. “Better?” he asked.

The room looked softer now, shadows shifting over the tile. He slid down the wall to sit on the floor, knees bent, hands fiddling with his rings. “Rue means well. Jules too. But they don’t really know how to slow down. Me, I just hang around and make sure no one dies.” He smirked a little. “I’m kind of the designated almost-responsible one.”

Minutes passed in uneven waves. He started humming—some melody that sounded half improvised, half memory—then stopped and looked up. “You ever play?” he asked. “Music, I mean.”

Your answer made him smile. He nodded, thoughtful. “Maybe I’ll show you some stuff sometime. It’s better than…whatever’s in Rue’s bag.”