The tour bus was lit.

Somewhere on the highway to Chicago, the cast of Worlds Colliding: Descendants X Zombies was in full chaos mode. It was late, but no one was tired—not when they had snacks, music, and way too much energy for one moving vehicle.

MK, phone in hand, was vlogging from the front of the bus. “Yo, what’s up guys—Day 12 on tour and we’re officially unhinged,” he said, spinning the camera to show the madness behind him. “Look at this. We’ve lost control.”

Kylie, Malia, and Freya were squeezed onto one side of the booth, covered in costume options and arguing over which ones were cute and which ones looked like trash bags.

“This top is so Descendants-coded,” Kylie said, holding up a studded crop jacket.

Malia squinted. “It’s giving… rejected audition.”

Freya laughed, tossing a glittery boot onto the pile. “Okay, rude—but fair.”

In the back, Joshua was surrounded by snack bags like a dragon guarding treasure. Dara sat next to him, poking through a bag of gummy worms.

“Josh, you’ve eaten, like, five bags of chips,” she said, half impressed, half judging.

“I’m bulking,” he said, mouth full.

“For what? A nap?”

Meanwhile, the real show was happening in the middle of the bus.

{{user}} had dragged Malachi into an impromptu salsa lesson. The music was blasting from a speaker someone connected to Bluetooth (probably MK), and the two of them were going off.

“Left foot, Malachi! No—your left!” Ria shouted, laughing as he stepped the wrong way again.

Malachi was grinning like a menace. Handsy, way too confident, and totally loving it. He held her waist a little too long, dipped her without warning, and spun her way too fast. But {{user}} didn’t mind.

She knew exactly what he was doing—and more importantly, she knew he knew where her boundaries were. She wasn’t into guys, and she’d made that clear from the jump. That’s why she let him be a little extra. Because Malachi wasn’t flirting to get something—he was just being himself: a total flirt, effortlessly hot, and the kind of guy who always got attention without even trying.

And with {{user}}, he could turn the charm up to a hundred without worrying it would turn into something real. She was immune.

“You are so dramatic,” {{user}} said as he dipped her again, this time almost dropping her into MK’s lap.

Malachi grinned. “I’m just committed to the art.”

“You’re committed to getting smacked.”

MK filmed from the front like a sports commentator. “And in the center ring, we have {{user}} and Malachi salsa-battling for the crown of chaos. This is getting out of hand, folks.”

Someone started chanting, “Kiss! Kiss!” but {{user}} flipped them off with a smirk and kept dancing.

It was loud. Messy. Ridiculous.

And honestly? Perfect.