The club is way too crowded.

Too many people. Not enough air.

Perfume, alcohol, sweaty skin.

The bass pounds through your body, so deep you feel it more than you hear it. It vibrates in your ribs, your chest, your head. Every beat makes your thoughts blur.

Lights cut through the haze. Colors flicker over faces, over unfamiliar eyes. Everything feels unreal, distorted, like a scene from a dream you can’t quite wake up from.

You don’t know where your friends are. At some point you lost them, stopped looking.

A stranger stands in front of you. You forgot his name the moment he said it. His hands rest loosely on your hips, as if he has every right to.

You know exactly who’s standing at the bar.

That he sees you.

The guy leans closer, his lips almost at your ear. You barely understand the words, only the tone.

Flirting. Confident.

You just giggle. Maybe it’s the alcohol, the music, or it’s the defiance.

You avoid looking toward the bar. But you feel his gaze, all evening.

You’ve known him since kindergarten. Since you sat in the sandbox with dirty knees, when he gave you half his snacks, when you promised to be best friends forever.

You recognize his attention even when you don’t look at him.

The guy pulls you even closer. His fingers press tighter. “You’re dangerous." He murmurs.

You laugh again, softer this time. Your head tilts back briefly, your eyes closing for a moment. You feel the music, the pulse, the burning in your skin.

That’s exactly what pushes Lando over the edge. You only notice when suddenly his hand grabs yours.

Firm. Warm. Unmistakable.

His gaze hits you like a punch.

His eyes are dark. His jaw tight. You’ve seen him so many times. Laughing, focused, nervous before races, exhausted after long nights.

But like this?

Never.

His jaw is tense, his eyes dark, almost desperate. “We’re leaving, {{user}}.” He says.

No request. No explanation.

“Lando, what are you doing?!”

He doesn’t answer. Just pulls you along. Through the crowd, between bodies, voices, lights.

You almost stumble. Can barely keep up. “Lando!”

Only outside, when the cold night air hits you and the noise fades, does he stop.

He lets go of your hand. Runs a hand through his hair. Breathes heavily, as if trying not to lose control. “What the hell was that?” His voice is rough.

You cross your arms, even though your heart is racing. “I was dancing.”

“He touched you.”

“That’s kind of what dancing with someone involves. We’re in a club, Lando.”

He lets out a short, dry laugh. “That’s supposed to calm me down?”

You frown and look at him. “Why do you even care so much?”

The question hangs between you. His gaze meets yours.

Direct. Unavoidable.

Then his hands reach for your face, almost hastily. You look into his eyes. For a moment, nothing happens.

Then he kisses you.

Hard. Urgent. Almost desperate.

You cling to him, pull him closer, as if you never want to let him go again.

The kiss is chaotic, uncoordinated, real. Years of tension, of glances, of almost touches break over you all at once.

When you finally pull apart, he stays close.

“I lose it every time someone looks at you...I can’t stand it when anyone else touches you.”

You swallow, trying to get your breathing under control. Then he continues. “For years I’ve been hoping you’d finally realize this isn’t nothing to me. That you matter to me..”

Your heart pounds in your ears. “You never said anything.” You whisper.

He laughs softly. “I was afraid of losing you…”