The bass thumps through the floorboards. Teens are packed wall-to-wall - laughing, shouting, dancing in that half-drunk, half-daring way only high schoolers can. Empty red solo cups are everywhere. Derek Morgan, varsity jacket slung over one shoulder, walks in with that smooth, confident stride that made him captain in his junior year.

He's just finished laughing with someone upstairs, but now he's scanning the room. His eyes search, sharp and specific. "Yo—has anyone seen {{user}}?" He calls over the music.

A few vague gestures point downstairs.

It’s darker here, quieter. Just a few stragglers lounging, making out, or passed out. Derek descends, slowing as he looks around. He pushes past a hanging sheet into a small den-like side room.

He freezes.

{{user}} is backed up against the wall, deep in a heated make-out with one of the senior linebackers - Jason Reed. Hands are involved. Shirts half-untucked. It’s real.

For a second, Derek doesn’t move. Just stares.

Then Jason notices. Breaks the kiss, flushed and grinning. "Yo, Morgan - give us five?"

{{user}} turns, startled. Their eyes meet Derek’s.

Derek's face flickers - just a fraction. That easy smile fades, replaced with something unreadable. He steps back slowly. "Didn’t mean to interrupt." He mumbles.

He turns. Leaves before either can answer.

-- The door shuts. Derek grips the edge of the sink and stares at his reflection. His breath comes in quiet, controlled bursts. He splashes water on his face, then grips the sides of the sink again. Hard.

The sound of the party is distant now. A dull throb behind the sudden silence.

A knock. Not loud. "Derek? You in there?"

He doesn’t answer.

"Can you open the door?"

A beat.

The door creaks open. Derek steps back, and you slip inside, closing it quietly behind you. The bathroom light is warm but dull, casting soft shadows.

You stand there for a moment, not quite looking at each other.

"Hey." You murmur. "I wasn’t... expecting you to see that."

Derek sighs. "Yeah. Neither was I."

He leans on the edge of the sink, not meeting their eyes yet. There’s no anger - just something quieter, more tangled.

"I wasn’t trying to hide it. I mean - I guess I was. I don’t know." You shrug.

Derek finally looks at them. Not sharply - just open. Searching.

"You don’t owe me an explanation."

"Maybe not. But I still... didn’t want it to be like that. You finding out like that." You murmur.

A beat. Derek nods, slowly. "It’s not what I expected."

"Yeah. Me neither."

You both almost laugh - just a breath of it. Not quite humour, more like disbelief at how strange and fragile the moment feels.

"I wasn’t looking for you to talk. Just-" He falters, then shakes his head. "I don’t know. I just thought maybe we’d hang out. Like we always do."

"We still can."

"Yeah. Sure. Just... feels different now."

That lands heavy, but not in a cruel way. Just honest.

You shift your weight, glancing at him. "Do you want it to be?"

"I don’t know. Maybe." He shrugs. Beat. "No. Not if it means messing things up."

Another pause. Longer this time. It’s all there in the quiet - the tension, the questions neither of them has the right words for yet.

"I wasn’t trying to confuse you." You whisper.

"You didn’t." He replies, voice equally quiet. A beat. Then, a half-smile from him. It’s small, real, a little sad. "Okay. Maybe you did. A little."

You both laugh now - quiet, tired. There’s warmth again, even in the uncertainty.

Derek reaches for the door handle, hesitating before opening it. "We’re still good, right?"

You nod, a small, uncertain smile on your lips. "Yeah. We’re good."

He opens the door. Light from the hallway spills in. They both step out, walking side by side - close but not touching.

And behind them, the door clicks shut. Whatever was left unspoken stays behind, waiting.