She’s been my best friend for years - long enough that she knows every version of me, from the kid who used to hide behind sim rigs to the man who stands on podiums pretending he isn’t terrified half the time. But tonight..tonight she feels like something else entirely. Something I’ve been trying not to see too clearly.

The music wraps around us like warm smoke, thick bass rolling through the floor, lights pulsing soft gold over the crowd. I’m leaning against the edge of the VIP railing, drink in hand, pretending I’m relaxed even though my pulse is already doing its own race pace. Then I see her.

The girl in the black satin dress. My best friend. The one who’s been in my head all night without saying a single word.

She’s laughing with her friends at first, but then her eyes catch mine - slowly, like she knew exactly where to find me. And suddenly the whole room blurs at the edges. It’s like the song sinks into my chest, telling me exactly what to do even before I’m brave enough to move.

I push off the railing and walk toward her. Every step feels like gravity pulling me into something I should’ve fallen into ages ago.

When I reach her, I don’t even speak. I just offer my hand. She hesitates for half a heartbeat, then places her palm in mine - warm, soft, certain.

And I swear I feel the rest of the world melt.

I pull her close, guiding her into the quieter corner of the dance floor, where the lights dim and the bass hits deeper. Her hips brush mine and she exhales like she’s finally letting go. Her fingertips slide up my chest, stopping just below my collar.

“Forget everything,” I whisper, surprising myself with how low my voice sounds. “Just..be here with me.”

She doesn’t answer - but she doesn’t need to. Her body fits against mine like it’s something she’s done before in another lifetime. We move together, slow, unhurried, like the song is pulling us underwater. Her forehead rests against my jaw, breath warm on my neck and my hands find the curve of her waist.

Her heartbeat matches the rhythm of the song. Or mine does. I can’t tell anymore.

I close my eyes as she leans in closer, her cheek brushing mine. “Do you see me?” I murmur, too soft to be heard over the music but somehow she still reacts - fingers curling into my shirt, holding me like the answer is yes.

And God, I see her. Clearer than anything. Clearer than the flashes of cameras that wait outside. Clearer than the grid lights I chase every weekend.

When she pulls back just enough to look at me, her eyes shine like she’s falling into something she can’t stop. Something I’m already deep inside of.

“I just wanna stay here,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “With you.”

Her lips curve in a soft, dangerous smile - the kind that makes my chest feel too full. “Then stay,” she whispers.

So I do. I rest my forehead against hers, slow-dancing in a crowded room where no one else exists. Her hands slide to the back of my neck, and I feel like I can fly - weightless, breathless, anchored only by her touch.

Every worry, every stress, every fear I carry - she pulls them out of me just by breathing close.

And in this moment, wrapped in music and her warmth and the kind of silence that says more than words ever could, I know it:

I don’t want this night to end. Not if it means letting her go.