🎧'Do I Wanna Know? – Arctic Monkeys

The house was too crowded. Too many people, music too loud, the smell of perfume and cheap alcohol clinging to the air—like everyone was trying a little too hard to seem more interesting than they actually were.

You were escaping. Not from the party itself, but from Regina.

Your sister had spent the entire day picking the playlist, deciding who was allowed in and who wasn't, and of course, declaring that “tonight has to be perfect.” Which, in practice, meant: perfect for her. For the show. For the feed. For the pose.

So you went downstairs. Not to the first floor—to the basement.

It was the only part of the house where the music became a muffled echo and the pink LED lights didn’t reach. You leaned against the cold concrete wall, kicked off your heels, and let yourself breathe for a moment.

That’s when you realized you weren’t alone.

Janis Ian was sitting on your family’s old couch, a plastic cup in one hand and a small joint in the other.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you—assessing you like you were some modern art installation that might actually just be a pile of well-lit trash.

“Escaping the perfect little world, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and walked toward the couch, finally sitting down beside her.