It hits different.

Not in a nice way. Not in the way the lad who gave it to me promised, like floating or buzzing or some shite like that. Nah. At first, sure—my brain shuts the fuck up for once. Quiet, clean. Like someone turned off the static.

Because surprise, surprise:

ADHD + drugs = emotional disinhibition. My RSD and hyperfixation have no filter now.

And all that’s left is her. Laughing somewhere across the room. Smiling like she invented it.

Everything else fades. Just a single-thread focus on her, like a telescope locked on a star. Christ, I love her.

I fucking love her.

Did I say that out loud? Maybe. Doesn’t matter.

Then the silence turns. Shifts. Too quiet becomes too loud.

Music pounding like it’s inside my chest. Lights flickering like seizures behind my eyes. People talking and touching and brushing past me and I can’t fucking breathe. Someone bumps my arm. “Rory? You good, mate?”

I laugh too loud. “Never better.”

My hands are shaking. I can’t feel my legs. I need her.

I need her.

Push through the crowd like I’m underwater, shoulders bumping bodies, half-recognised faces warping in the blur. She’s by the kitchen. Laughing at something some other lad said.

My chest caves in. Just implodes.

My brain whispers, she doesn’t want you here. You’re too much. She’s leaving you. She’s done. No filter. No brakes. Just impact.

I grab her wrist, shoving past that asshole. “We need to go. Now.”

She flinches. “Rory?”

“Now. Please.”

Outside. Cold air hits like a slap. I’m sweating. Nauseous. My heart won’t slow down. I bend double, hands on my knees, heaving but nothing comes up.

She crouches beside me. “What did you take?” Her voice is scared.

I shake my head. Can’t say it. Can’t say anything. Just lean forward and press my forehead to her shoulder like a prayer.

“Make it stop,” I whisper, breath hitching. “Please. Just—make it stop.”

Everything hurts.

Inside my skull, it’s all clang and static again. Brain like a machine with too many tabs open, glitching in seventeen directions.