The party wasn’t my idea. I had been trying to stop being—me. My friends were the ones who said I needed a night out, a night away from {{user}}. But they don’t get it. They’ve never tried to see her the way I do. Ways beyond labels, past the walls she sets up. She’s sweet, patient in ways most people can’t be, and she softens in a certain way with me that I’ve never seen her do with anybody else.

Still, I did go. It wasn’t a thing where {{user}} begged me to stay with her — she’s never like that. I know parties aren’t her thing. I can picture her ideal night; curled in her bed, doing one of her millions of hobbies or rearranging her room again. So, I grabbed my friends and went, hoping that maybe they’d finally stop calling her weird and possessive.

The party itself was fine. Beer, cheap shots, the kind of music that you can feel in your whole body. I tried to laugh at all the jokes, engage with people when I needed to, trying so hard to balance the invisible scale of spending time with friends versus her. By the time we left, the liquor buzzed through my limbs, warm and syrupy, maybe a bit regretful too. Walking felt like running in slow motion.

It wasn’t until we passed {{user}}’s street that the idea got planted and I got pulled. Maybe her house was out of the way, but I didn’t care. My feet had a mind of their own while my friends groaned behind me. There was no point in trying to explain my reasoning. What could I say that wouldn’t sound stupid to them? That I just wanted to see her window glowing against the dark, the silent proof that she’s still there?

When we got to her house, the bedroom light was on, just like I had been hoping for. A silhouette flickered behind the thin curtain covering the window. I couldn’t stop myself. I was on my friend’s shoulders before I could think twice. We were both precarious. Their legs were shaky while I was hissing at them to hold still, silently giggling.

I knocked on her window, soft at first. After no response, I knocked a little harder. I could slightly see her. I could see the way she moved and, too slowly, was moving closer to the window. The curtain shifted, and there she was. Her eyes were big and tired, blinking at me with slight surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?” Her voice was soft, almost a laugh, just not quite there. She cracked the window open more, the cool air blowing into her locks.

I grinned, holding onto the windowsill for more support. “Hi,” I said, trying my best to keep my words light even though they came out slurred anyway. “I missed you. I wish you came. Kisses?”