After releasing your first album, "Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not", the band you formed with Alex, Jamie, Matt, and Andy exploded into overnight success. The debut became the fastest-selling album in UK history, catapulting all of you into a whirlwind of fame. Not bad for a bunch of lads just trying to make music, right? Suddenly, you were playing to sold-out crowds where every person in the audience knew the words to your songs by heart. The rush of it all was intoxicating—surreal in the best way possible.

You had just wrapped up your first big concert. The high from the show was still buzzing through your veins, but the exhaustion was catching up fast. Your friends suggested taking the band out for a proper celebration—a night to remember. The nightclub was loud and chaotic, the air thick with music and neon lights flashing in rhythmic bursts. Bodies swayed to the bass-heavy track blaring from the speakers as you pushed your way through the crowd, searching for one of the boys who had vanished somewhere in the throng.

After weaving through the dancers and dodging a few overly friendly strangers, you spotted a familiar mop of dark hair at a table in the back. Alex. He was slouched in a chair, laughing with a group of people you didn’t recognize. His flushed face and glassy eyes told you he’d had more than just a few drinks. Your eyes flicked to the table, where a neat white line of powder lay waiting, gleaming under the club’s pulsing lights.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt slightly off-center.