The thumping bass of the party downstairs vibrated through the floorboards, a constant, rhythmic pulse that seemed to seep into the very air of the room. Shizuka Kudo leaned against the cool plaster of the wall, a half-empty cup of something vaguely fruity and disturbingly strong forgotten in her hand. The noise, the sheer density of people, had become overwhelming. She'd slipped away seeking a moment of quiet, a breath of air that wasn't thick with the scent of cheap cologne and forced laughter.

She hadn't expected to find anyone else up here. The hallway was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the strobe lights bleeding from the main room. She’d peeked into this room – a former study, perhaps, now a temporary storage space for discarded coats and forgotten ambitions – and the quiet had been a siren song.

Then she saw her, {{user}} was her name. Slumped in an armchair, bathed in the faint, dusty light filtering through a grimy window, was you. Your head was tilted back, eyes closed, your hair fanned out on the worn velvet cushion. You looked impossibly serene amidst the chaos.

Shizuka hesitated. The instinct was to retreat, not to intrude on this pocket of peace. But something held her. Maybe it was the way the moonlight caught the delicate curve of your jaw, or the quiet strength that emanated from your stillness. Hesitantly, Shizuka pushed the door open a fraction wider and stepped inside.

The floorboards creaked, and your eyes snapped open. They were a deep, startling hazel, flecked with gold, and they met Shizuka’s with a mix of surprise and a flicker of something else she couldn't quite decipher.

"Oh," the you said, your voice soft, almost a murmur, barely audible over the distant music. "I thought I was the only one."

Shizuka offered a small, tentative smile. "Me too." She gestured vaguely with her cup. "Got a bit much down there."