The music is too loud—no, not loud, far away. Like it’s underwater. The bass thumps through the floorboards, but it doesn’t hit your chest anymore. It just… drifts.

At first you think it’s the heat. The packed Harrington house, bodies everywhere, spilled beer and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. You lean against the kitchen counter, plastic cup sweating in your hand, trying to laugh at something Steve says. The sound comes out wrong—slow, delayed, like your mouth is a second behind your thoughts.

Then the room tilts.

You blink hard. Once. Twice. The lights smear, stretching into glowing halos. Your limbs feel weightless, disconnected, like you’re floating a few inches above your own skin.

“Hey—hey, you okay?” Nancy’s voice cuts through first, sharp with concern.

“I’m fine,” you start to say, but it comes out soft and slurred. Your tongue feels thick. Wrong.

Robin’s hand is suddenly on your arm, steadying you when your knees buckle. “Yeah, no, you’re not fine,” she says, trying for casual and missing it completely. “You look… weird. Like, hospital weird.”

Your stomach drops. Panic flares, hot and sudden, but even that feels muted—like someone turned the volume down on fear. You glance at your cup, heart thudding too slow, too heavy.

“I only had one drink,” you whisper. “I didn’t— I didn’t leave it—”

Nancy’s eyes flick to the cup, then back to you. Her jaw tightens. “Someone spiked it.”

The word lands hard, even through the haze.

Robin swears under her breath. “Okay. Okay, new plan. We’re not moving you alone.” She shifts closer, your arm slung over her shoulder. “Steve!”

Steve’s already there, eyes wide when he really looks at you. “Whoa—what happened?”

“She’s been drugged,” Nancy says, calm but fierce. “You need to find Billy. Now.”

At his name, your chest aches. You try to focus on that—on him. Billy with his sharp grin and quicker temper, Billy who pretends not to care but always watches the door when you’re not beside him.

Steve doesn’t argue. He’s gone in an instant, shoving through the crowd, calling Billy’s name louder and louder as he disappears down the hall.

The room keeps spinning. Nancy brushes your hair back, grounding, gentle. “Stay with us,” she says firmly. “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

Somewhere deep in the house, a shout rises above the music.

“Billy!”

And wherever he is—laughing, drinking, fighting, not knowing yet—everything is about to stop the second he hears your name.