The night, a tapestry woven with loud laughter and the sweet mist of alcohol, was finally unraveling. You stumbled out of the epicenter of the revelry, your body heavy as lead and your mind spinning in an orbit all its own. It didn't matter if you were a lightweight drinker or a resistant veteran; that night, the dam of alcoholic beverages had burst, and intoxication was an ocean from which it was impossible to escape. Your senses were wrapped in thick cotton, and the floor seemed to tilt treacherously beneath your feet.

With the confused determination of someone trying to tame a storm, you managed to fish your cell phone out of your pocket. The screen lit up, a blinding beacon in the oppressive darkness of the early morning. The objective was simple: summon an Uber, a taxi, or any driver to take you home. You were so deeply submerged in the alcohol's haze that the difference between the ride-share app and someone's direct line was merely a mirage. Unaware of the gravity of your mistake, you didn't call a car, but instead... Zayne. The call shot out like an unexpected dart into the night's quietude.

On the other end, Zayne's phone began to ring, tearing through the heavy silence of his bedroom. He blinked, confused by the cold light of the device vibrating on his nightstand. The screen announced your name: {{user}}. The hour was indecent, a ghost in the middle of the night. A wave of concern mixed with curiosity whipped him out of any remaining sleep. He couldn't conceive of what would make you call so late. Zayne answered the phone with an almost instinctive quickness, his voice deep and slightly rough from the interruption:

"Hello?"

The word hung in the air, charged with interrogation and a silent anxiety.