The basement was a mess of pillows and half-eaten pizza crusts. D&D dice glittered across the rug like strange, colorful runes, long since forgotten. The game had ended two hours ago, but no one had gone home. Will lay curled in a corner, sketching quietly, and {{user}} sat cross-legged beside him, eyes flicking between the page and the flickering string lights above. Mike wasn’t sure what time it was. He just knew he didn’t want the night to end.

He watched them from his spot near the couch, trying to act casual while his stomach buzzed like static. There was something different about this night—some kind of low-humming energy threading through every glance and pause. Will kept smiling that quiet, sideways smile he only used when he was really comfortable. {{user}} said maybe twenty words total, but somehow every one of them made Mike sit up straighter. And Mike... Mike couldn’t shut up. He kept filling the air with stories and ideas and half-formed jokes, desperate to keep the magic hanging in the air just a little longer.

At one point, he caught Will watching him with this look—soft, curious. Mike pretended not to notice, but it made his throat tighten. They weren’t just his friends tonight. Something about the way they were all arranged on the floor, shoulders brushing and laughs overlapping, felt fragile and new, like stepping into a dream where everything could change if he breathed too hard.