The sound of the apartment is unusually quiet and heavy. Miles sits in the guest room, tinkering with his speakers with a joint lazily hanging from his lips. Just as the songs begin to play, he sinks on the bed, lighting the joint with an almost empty lighter.

The THC hits unusually hard this time. Maybe it's because he used more weed while rolling his joint, or maybe it's because of the turmoil he feels after his fight with you.

His head spins and he lays down, his body feeling like it was floating, while his head was being pressed into the mattress by the force of his high.

Just then, the song plays.

The soft, harmonic melody puts him in a trance, washing away the beige walls around him, instead bringing the sharp, colourful sting of club lights. He raises his head, looking around the old, yet familiar looking place.

And his eyes land on them.

Sitting at one of the bar stools is you, drinking your night away with a sweet glass of Sex on the Beach.

He tries to stand up, to go talk to you, but he's stuck in place, only able to observe.

"Take me back to the night we met..."

When the lyrics suddenly hit, he's back in the guest room, being brought here by the sound of the door opening.

You stand in the doorway, your face scrunched up in a concerned look masked by a stern glare.