The club is way too crowded.

Too many people. Too much noise. Too much of her with someone who isn’t me.

The bass crawls under my skin, shakes through my ribs.

I can feel it in my teeth. Lights flash over the dance floor, cutting everything into fragments, color, shadows, movement.

It feels unreal. Like I’m watching something I can’t stop.

I told myself I wouldn’t care.

I’ve been standing at the bar for twenty minutes pretending to listen to whatever story, Max next to me is telling. I haven’t heard a word. My eyes keep drifting back to her.

She doesn’t even look at me.

She’s laughing, head tilted back, eyes closed for a second. That laugh. The same one she had when we met in Kindergarden, where we were six and she beat me in some stupid sandbox race and demanded half my snack as a prize. Where she promised me to be best friends forever.

I know that laugh.

And then he touches her.

His hands are on her hips like he has a right to be there. Like he’s known her his whole life. Like he’s been there for scraped knees and school dances and every almost confession I swallowed down.

He leans down to her ear and she giggles again.

Something in my chest snaps.

I don’t remember deciding to move. One second I’m at the bar, the next I’m pushing through the crowd. Bodies bump into me, someone swears, but I don’t stop until I’m right in front of her.

Up close, it’s worse. His fingers are pressing into her. “You’re dangerous." I hear him murmur.

Yeah. She is. Because she doesn’t even realize what she does to me.

My hand finds her wrist before I can think better of it. Firm. Warm. She turns toward me and I see the surprise in her eyes. “We’re leaving, {{user}}.”

No request. No explanation.

“Lando, what are you doing?!”

I don’t answer. If I open my mouth in here, I’ll say something I can’t take back.

So I just pull her with me. Through the crowd. Past the lights. Past the noise that’s making my head spin.

She stumbles a little. Calls my name again. I don’t stop until we’re outside. The cold air hits like a slap. The music becomes a dull thud behind the walls.

I finally let go of her hand because if I don’t, I won’t be able to think straight. I run a hand through my hair, trying to breathe.

“What the hell was that?” My voice comes out rougher than I meant it to.

She crosses her arms. Defensive. Stubborn. Beautiful. “I was dancing.”

“He touched you.”

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

I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s supposed to calm me down?”

She frowns at me, confused and a little annoyed. “Why do you even care so much?”

That question. It’s the one I’ve been avoiding for years. Because the answer changes everything.

She looks at me and suddenly I’m not on a street outside a club. I’m six years old again, sitting next to her in a sandbox, deciding she’s my person without even knowing what that meant.

I step closer before I can lose my nerve. My hands come up to her face.

She goes still. For a second, I almost stop. Almost apologize. Almost go back to being the safe friend who says nothing. But then I think about him touching her and I kiss her.

Harder than I meant to. Desperate in a way I didn’t know I could be. Years of swallowing words crash out all at once. It’s messy, uncoordinated, not some perfect movie moment, it’s real. It’s everything I’ve held back.

She kisses me back, grabs onto my shirt like she’s afraid I’ll disappear. Like she’s been waiting too.

When we pull apart, I don’t move. I can’t. My forehead almost rests against hers. “I lose it every time someone looks at you...I can’t stand it when anyone else touches you.” I admit, my voice quieter now but no less intense.

Her breathing is still uneven. So is mine. “For years.." I continue, forcing the words out before I can hide them again. "I’ve been hoping you'd finally realize that you matter to me.."

"You never said anything." She whispers.

A small shaky laugh escapes me. "I was afraid of losing you..."