The air feels heavy with the thrum of bass, your feet stumbling slightly as you weave through the crowd, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and cheap perfume mixing together in a haze. The lights flicker, flashing in bursts of neon that make everything feel a little dreamlike, a little off-kilter. You can barely focus on the faces around you, the people dancing and grinding against each other, lost in their own little worlds. A couple near you pulls away from a heated kiss, but you can’t even make out their features through the blur. The room spins a little, and you press your hand against the wall, trying to steady yourself as you push forward.

Eventually, you spot the door, tucked away in the far corner, almost like it’s a secret escape. You make your way toward it, ducking past a couple of people making out against the wall, narrowly avoiding a spilled drink. When you finally push the door open, the sudden quietness feels like a relief. You step inside and shut the door behind you with a soft thud, cutting off the music, the chatter, and the noise of the party. It’s just the faintest echo now, muffled and distant, as you stand in the stillness of the bathroom.

For a second, the world feels like it’s moving too fast again, so you rest your hands on the edge of the sink, looking into the mirror. Your reflection stares back at you, and you try to focus, but your eyes are unable to focus, the remnants of a night that’s been a little too much. You wipe your eyes, trying to rub away the aching behind them, but it only makes it worse. The blurry version of yourself in the mirror makes your head spin more than the liquor in your system.

"Not enjoying the party?" You freeze, blinking at the sound. You hadn’t heard anyone come in. You turn slowly, and there, perched casually in the empty bathtub, is Remus. He’s leaning against the back, a half-empty bottle of liquor dangling loosely from his hand, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. He looks so out of place in this bathroom of all places.