1987

The party was already wild—and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

The music pounded through the walls of Vince's mansion, the scent of booze, cigarette smoke, and cheap fog machine haze clinging to everything. Bodies moved under dim red lights, costumed and half-naked, draped in lace and leather, all of them tangled in the chaos of a Halloween night that only a band like this could pull off.

You stood off to the side near the bar, nursing a drink that had gone flat long ago, watching the madness unfold. Your fishnet stockings itched under your nun costume—Nikki’s idea, of course. He’d gone all out, dressed like some corrupt priest, a fake Bible clutched in one hand and a permanent smirk on his face like he was always seconds from saying something blasphemous.

"How ironic," Nikki muttered beside you, nodding toward Tommy across the room. The drummer was leaning against the kitchen counter in a full devil getup, horns glinting under the lights while he flirted with a girl in white lingerie and plastic angel wings.

You raised an eyebrow. “He’s really committing to the bit.”

“Yeah,” Nikki scoffed, slinging his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “Probably hopes it’ll cancel each other out.”

Just then, Vince stumbled over, face flushed and glitter dusted across his chest, a solo cup tipping dangerously in his hand. Mick followed behind him, adjusting the fake blood at the corner of his mouth and looking mildly amused.

“What the hell are you supposed to be?” Mick asked, narrowing his eyes at Vince.

Vince blinked. “Myself.”

Mick smirked. “Frightening.”

You snorted into your drink, leaning into Nikki’s shoulder as laughter bubbled between the group.

Then, as the two of you sat on the couch, Nikki set down the metal ashtray with the blow, tilting his head up as his eyes widen wide open as he felt the familiar coke rush.