Chapter Text
𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗲 𝟴 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯
You're met with the cool summer night breeze as you step out of the car. You instantly regret not choosing your black leather jacket over the black sleeve warmers. Your eyes drift down to your outfit you've been glancing at it on and off ever since you left your cousin's apartment.
The maroon slip dress clings to you softly, its velvet floral fabric catching the faint glow of the streetlights. The deep V-neckline leaves your collarbones exposed to the breeze, and the dress falls a few inches below your knees, just long enough to cover your bare legs. Your gaze drops to your black Mary Janes, tapping anxiously against the pavement.
A soft thud from the closing car door snaps you out of your thoughts. It's Pieck.
Your cousin steps out of the Uber, handing the driver his fare. As always, she looks gorgeous effortlessly hot, but even more striking tonight in her bold, Y2K-inspired outfit. She's wearing a low-rise white mini skirt paired with a sheer, slim-fitted green top that shimmers slightly under the city lights. Her black leather boots somehow tie the whole look together, even though the rest of the outfit is all soft greens and crisp whites. Her hair falls in loose, natural waves, framing her face like she walked straight out of a Bratz commercial.
"Hey, earth to y/n," she teases, snapping her fingers in front of your face.
You blink, finally meeting her eyes.
"Stop being so nervous. It's just a party," Pieck says with a playful smirk.
You're currently on summer break, about to start your junior year of high school after the holidays. When your mom suggested you go to Shiganshina City with your older sister, you were shocked you have never travelled anywhere your whole life. You were excited, sure, but then you found out it was only for three days. Your sister, an architect, had official work here site inspections, new project meetings, typical stuff for her.
While your sister's caught up in meetings tonight, you agreed to hang out with Pieck... at least until you learned she had to attend some massive college party. Of course, she dragged you along.
You didn't want to come. You kind of did... but it still felt weird. A high school junior at a college party? You barely went to parties back home only once, and your mom dragged you out of there the moment she found out. That was... humiliating.
And now, here you are, standing outside a huge bar that one of Pieck's friends had apparently booked for the entire night. They must be loaded. Since you had zero clothes suitable for a college party, you and Pieck went shopping this morning after endless debates over short dresses, long dresses, mid-length you settled on this knee-length slip dress.
"I'm not nervous," you protest weakly.
Pieck smiles knowingly, grabbing your hand.
"Come on, let's go. I can't wait for you to meet my friends."
Pieck's in her second year of college here in Shiganshina City. She used to live in Liberio where you still live but moved here for school. And now, after two years apart, you're finally hanging out again. It feels good... familiar. She's always been the one relative you actually clicked with.
You smile as Pieck drags you along by the arm.
The second the bar doors swing open, your jaw practically hits the floor. You've never seen a party this massive. Scratch that you've never even been to a club before, so obviously you've never seen one this big. The place is packed. absolutely packed.
"Oh gosh, this is gonna be so fun," Pieck grins.
Your smile widens. You're excited nervous, but excited.
As the two of you make your way inside, weaving past people dancing, making out, and drinking, you can't help but feel a little awkward. Pieck's grip on your wrist is tight, like she doesn't plan on letting you go which honestly, you're grateful for. You'd hate to get lost in this crowd.
"Oh GOSH, Hitch!" Pieck suddenly yells over the booming music.
You follow her gaze and spot a pretty blonde girl with short hair heading your way. Her outfit is flawless a white tie-front cami top, black jeans, and heels. She's got that confident, effortless look down.
"Oh freaking Pieck you look so sexy," the girl exclaims, pulling her into a hug.
"Says the one who invented sexy," Pieck teases, pulling back from the hug and gesturing toward you.
"Hitch, this is my cousin y/n. Y/n, meet Hitch."
You smile at her, and she flashes you a warm grin.
"You look beautiful, hun," she compliments.
"Thanks... I love your top," you reply, raising your voice to be heard over the music.
Hitch blows you a playful flying kiss, and you laugh softly.
"Where are the others?" Pieck asks.
"Come on, follow Mama, will lead you to the rest," Hitch winks, turning and making her way through the crowd.
You and Pieck follow close behind. Honestly, you're feeling okay so far but it's getting hot, the place is packed tight, and the air feels heavy. The crowd's a little overwhelming.
As you pass the bar area, Hitch starts climbing a staircase. You trail behind Pieck, her hand still clamped firmly around your wrist. That's when you notice the staircase doesn't even have a railing. Oh, perfect. One wrong step and it's full-on Final Destination mode. Like, hello? Gravity? Meet my dramatic downfall. Literally. You tread more carefully now, focusing on your steps.
Suddenly, Pieck's hand slips from your wrist.
And just like that, your life flashes before your eyes ."
You jolt, stumbling slightly. Heart doing backflips. Knees? Weak. Arms? Not exactly spaghetti, but definitely heading in that direction.
In pure survival mode, you reach to your side, grasping onto the first thing your flailing limbs can find.
Your hand lands on someone's forearm firm, warm, and solid enough to make you question if you accidentally grabbed onto a Greek statue.
But nope. That Greek statue is very much alive.
A warm hand wraps around your wrist in response gentle but steady, like he's done this before. You look up, fully prepared to apologize to a stranger for assault-by-staircase-grab.
And then you see a boy.
Tan skin. Messy dark like he woke up five minutes ago and still managed to look like he stepped out of a tragic love song.
And those eyes.
Teal. Not blue, not green, teal. The kind of color that probably has a poetic metaphor written about it in a Jane Austen fanfic somewhere.
He's literally glowing. Or maybe that's just the club lighting, or maybe you're having a minor stroke. hard to say.
"Be careful, miss," he says, lips curving into a small, disarmingly soft smile.
MISS? Okay. victorian.
"I- I'm sorry," you stammer, letting go of his arm like it burned you, which, honestly, it might have. Your cheeks go full toaster mode heating up with zero regard for your dignity.
"No need to be sorry," he replies easily, still holding your gaze for just a second too long. Like he's trying to memorize your face. Or maybe wondering why you look like a malfunctioning sims character right now.
"Thanks..." you mutter, flashing him a sheepish smile that's supposed to say "I'm normal," but probably just screams "I might cry from this interaction in the bathroom later."
Before you can overthink further, another guy grabs him by the arm, dragging him down the stairs with him. But not before teal eyes turns back one last time and smiles again.
You smile back, your soul briefly ascending.
He's freaking gorgeous.
You turn around and instantly spot the reason Pieck let go of you like you were yesterday's news: Porco. Her boyfriend. And she's clinging to him like he just returned from war, slayed a dragon, and personally ended climate change.
You climb the last few steps, breathless, brain short-circuiting, and heart still somewhere back there on his forearm.
"Porcorn, meet y/n!" she introduces playfully.
"Heyyy, I've heard a lot about you," he says, flashing a grin.
"Hi, I've heard a lot about you too," you reply with a smile. It's true Pieck never shuts up about him, always going on and on about her boyfriend. You secretly love how happy she sounds when she talks about him, so you never mind listening.
"Really?" Porco smirks at Pieck, who playfully smacks his shoulder.
"Come on, the others are waiting," Pieck says, grabbing his hand and leading the way. You follow close behind.
They stop at a corner area with big black couches arranged in a semi-circle, surrounded by sleek railings. From here, you can see the entire view of the club below crowded, buzzing with music, flashing lights, and people everywhere.
You spot unfamiliar faces... but some look vaguely familiar. You realize it's because of the Polaroid photos you saw earlier on Pieck's apartment wall while getting ready. Most of the pictures were of Pieck and Porco, but there were enough of her friend group to recognize a few faces now.
Porco flops dramatically onto the couch next to a blonde-haired guy, immediately making himself at home like he owns the place. Before you can even find a corner to emotionally retreat to, Pieck turns into full hostess mode, effortlessly introducing you to everyone like you're a new character dropped into season five of a show you've never watched.
They smile. They wave. Someone even hits you with a "hey, welcome." It's all... perfectly pleasant. Which somehow makes the anxiety worse.
You're standing there, nodding and smiling like a mildly lost intern at your own surprise party, while your brain's just going:
Someone please throw me a lifeline, a chair, a portal to 2012 Tumblr. Anything. I'm floundering."
They're all lovely. Truly. But your social battery? Yeah, it's already tap dancing on 1%.
It's been almost two hours now. You danced with Pieck, screamed lyrics with Hitch, swayed under the flashing lights until your throat ached and your legs begged for a break.
Now, you're curled up on the same couch, half-listening as the group chatters and laughs around you, drinks in hand, voices buzzing with that easy, lived-in chaos. You don't drink never have, probably never will. But it doesn't matter. Not here.
Pieck's friends are hilarious, their stories borderline insane random hookups, wild nights, chaotic college tales but half the time, you can't follow their conversations. You don't try too hard to keep up either.Your eyes But somewhere between their laughter and half-finished drinks, it hits you.
This is what college is supposed to feel like.Unfiltered. Loud. Alive.Not the silence you grew up with. Not the four walls of your room, where fun came in the form of movies and books the only windows you had into the kind of life people actually lived.
You weren't rotting at home by choice.You were kept there.Sheltered, watched, dismissed.
So maybe you didn't get to have your teenage years the late-night walks, the crowded parties, the hand you could hold just because you wanted to.But your college self?She's going to get the life she's been quietly aching for all these years.
No matter how long it takes.
Your eyes drift toward the blonde guy Zeke Jaeger the one who apparently booked this entire bar for the party. He looks like someone who's loaded, and carries himself like he knows it. His face feels familiar... you've definitely seen him somewhere before. You rack your brain trying to place it, but eventually give up.
You check your phone: 10:57 PM.
It's getting late. Too late.
Your gaze shifts to Pieck. she's busy playing some drinking game with her friends, laughing and teasing them. You stand up, making your way over to her and tapping her shoulder.
"I'm heading out," you tell her quietly.
She pouts, trying to convince you to stay longer, but you fake a small smile and say, "I've got a headache."
That gets her to back off. She hugs you tightly, tells you to text when you're back safe, and you wave goodbye to the others as they shout playful goodbyes your way.
You make your way downstairs, weaving past the crowd again. Instantly, your mind flickers to those teal eyes. His face flashes across your thoughts those mesmerizing eyes, that brief smile.
You shake the thought away, pulling out your phone to book an Uber.
The moment you step outside, the summer breeze hits you, cool and refreshing after the packed, suffocating party. It feels like relief washing over your skin. You finally take a deep breath.
It's dark out here. The streets are empty, quiet, except for the flickering streetlamp nearby.
You glance at your phone. No Uber confirmed yet. You sigh.
You stand there for a few minutes, lost in your thoughts thinking about life, as always. Somehow, you always end up circling back to that same pit in your mind, the one you never manage to escape.
You've always wanted to live a normal teenage life hang out with friends, laugh at dumb jokes, sneak into parties, movie nights, carnivals all the simple things everyone else does. But your parents had other plans. They hated the idea of their kid roaming around "too freely," as they called it.
Real friends? You never really had those. Sure, you were part of a few friend groups over the years some decent, some absolute walking disasters of toxic personalities.
This year, junior year, you've decided you'll be in none of those groups. You're done with the fake friendships, the drama. But then again... were you ever really in those groups?
Your spiraling thoughts cut off suddenly when you notice a hand extended toward you, from the right. A veiny hand, holding out a can of drink.
You look up.
It's him.
Those teal eyes meet yours, glowing slightly under the flickering streetlamp as he steps forward to stand beside you and for the first time, you really see him.
His jaw is sharp enough to draw blood. His cheekbones defined, like someone carved them out with intent. His lips sit in a quiet smirk, like he knows something you don't. And his nose. God, how can a nose look that good?
You don't breathe. You just stare.
You stare, lost for a second in his gaze, and he stares right back with a faint smile playing on his lips.
A breeze sweeps through, stronger than before, colder now goosebumps rise along your arms, even through the sleeves of your warmer. You break the eye contact, glancing down at the drink in his hand, unsure. Probably beer. You don't drink.
"It's not beer," he says casually, as if reading your mind.
You smile a little, fingers brushing his as you take the can. But before you can grab it, he pulls it back gently.
You blink in confusion, but then realize he's opening it for you.
Once it's open, he hands it over, popping open a can for himself. You both take a sip. The drink is strong too strong for your usual taste but somehow, you keep drinking it anyway.
"Trying to find an Uber?" he asks, his gaze drifting to the empty street.
"Yeah..." you reply.
"Well, basically... Ubers here are a myth here in Shiganshina," he chuckles softly.
You let out a quiet laugh, taking another sip of the drink.
"Okay, I'll make sure to note that down," you tease.
His head turns toward you now, while your eyes stay on the street.
"You don't live here, do you?" he asks.
"Nope." You pop the 'p' on purpose.
Silence settles between you both, just the sound of the breeze and your quiet sipping. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, finally taking him in properly.
Tall. Really tall. Probably your age.His hair's messy chestnut brown and careless, like he ran a hand through it hours ago and never fixed it. His posture is sharp, confident without trying too hard, and his build is lean but defined, like someone who doesn't live in the gym but could still knock the wind out of you.
He wears a white tee, simple and clean, styled under a black casual blazer that makes him look just polished enough. The matching black jeans sit perfectly on him not too fitted, not too loose and the white Jordans at his feet ground him in a way that makes the whole outfit feel effortless.
Put together without trying.
He takes another long sip, and your gaze flickers to his throat, watching his Adam's apple move. God... is this guy even real?
Suddenly, he catches your stare, a smirk curling his lips as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out car keys.
"Want me to drop you off?" he offers, jingling the keys lightly.
You glance down at your phone. Still no sign of your Uber estimated arrival time: 30 minutes.
You hesitate. He seems trustworthy, but...
"I'm not drunk," he says with a small laugh, and that's when you notice it a faint dimple on his left cheek.
You smile despite yourself.
"You're not," he assures. "I'm done with this party anyway. Was about to head home."
i mean this isnt gonna be bad right?
You nod slowly.
"Follow me," he says, already turning to walk toward the parked cars.
You trail behind him until he stops in front of a sleek, shiny silver Tesla
Of course. A Tesla. Naturally. Because apparently everyone in this city came out of the womb financially thriving.
He opens the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in.
You slide inside, immediately hit by the warm, oak-like scent of his cologne rich, masculine, addictive.
He gets in the driver's seat beside you, the engine humming softly to life.
---
It's been almost ten minutes, both of you sitting in comfortable silence. You can't help but stare out the window, quietly admiring the city.
Shiganshina is beautiful the kind of beautiful that never sleeps. A city that buzzes with life, yet somehow still holds onto its nature. Streets filled with towering buildings, but trees, parks, hidden corners of calm tucked between them.
You didn't get to explore much. Only three days here tomorrow's your last. Then it's back to... reality. Back to hell.
A sudden rush of wind sweeps through the car. You flinch, confused, glancing around. The windows are rolled up...
You look at him.
He's smiling, eyes steady on the road.
You glance upward the sunroof is open, the night air pouring in.
how did i not noticed it?
"Wanna go up there?" he asks casually, the corners of his mouth lifting into a small smirk.
You grin. "Sure."
You kick off your Mary Janes and carefully step onto the armrest. Your hand naturally falls to his shoulder for balance and without hesitation, his hand moves from the steering wheel, gripping your wrist firmly, steadying you. His eyes never leave the road.
With his help, you pull yourself through the sunroof.
The second your upper body emerges, the fierce wind slams against you. Your hair whips wildly around your face, the chill cutting through the air, and for a second, your eyes sting too much to open.
But when you do.
Oh my god.
The city is glowing.
Shiganshina stretches endlessly beneath you bright lights, cars zipping past, the skyline glittering like stars fallen to earth. As the car pulls onto a wide bridge, the view expands, and you swear your heart skips a beat.
"Woah..." you breathe, barely hearing your own voice over the wind.
His soft chuckle reaches you from inside the car. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
"You're joking — this is insane," you shout through the gusts.
You open your arms wide, surrendering to the wind as it barrels past fierce, untamed, wrapping around you like it's trying to peel you apart. You feel weightless. Fragile. Like a dandelion trembling on its stem, seconds from unraveling.
But it isn't you that falls apart. It's everything else.
The weight of it all the locked-up life, the suffocating rules, the buried anger, the quiet grief pressed so deep you almost forgot it was there it breaks, piece by piece, scattering into the night like seeds caught in a storm.
And you... The real you... You float through the wreckage. Hollow. Weightless. Alive.
That's when you feel him his hand slipping to your waist, grounding you like he knows how close you are to shattering. His fingers press steady, warm, careful not holding you back, just... reminding you that you're still here.
You barely register anything beyond the adrenaline curling through your veins, burning at the edges of your bones.
Your arms stretch farther, chasing the sky, your hair whipping behind you, tangled and wild. The city melts around you lights smearing into gold and violet blurs, the air thick with gasoline and electricity.
Arabella by Arctic Monkeys seeps through the roar of the wind the bass clawing its way under your ribs, the drums syncing with the frantic rhythm of your heart.
You close your eyes. Is this what freedom feels like? Or maybe... Is this what running feels like?
Running from home from the walls, the rules, the yells. Running from the ache no one sees, the empty house, the words no one says.
But right now, the world feels endless ,wide open and for the first time, your lungs don't feel caged.
You never want this to stop. Not ever. This moment... it feels infinite dangerous and soft all at once the kind of moment that stains your memory, the kind you'll bleed for when it's gone.
You open your eyes. The urge to think of home creeps in again sharp and cold but you shove it down. Not tonight. Tonight, there's only this: the wind peeling away everything heavy, your body trembling at the edge of something bigger, and your soul finally drifting free.
You hadn't even realized his hand was still resting on your waist, driving one-handed the whole time.
You drop back onto your seat, breathless, heart racing.
He glances over at you, laughing softly.
Your brows knit together. "What?"
He grins, dimples flashing. "Your hair... silly."
You gasp, patting your tangled mess of hair down, laughing as you slip your Mary Janes back on.
"You like Arctic Monkeys?" you ask, eyeing him.
He nods, eyes back on the road.
"Good taste... Alex," you tease.
His gaze flicks to you, lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.
Minutes pass, the city blurring by.
Suddenly, Snap Out Of It by Arctic Monkeys comes on.
Your eyes shoot to the screen, wide with excitement.
"It's your favorite, isn't it?" he asks, clearly amused.
"Yes," you grin, already humming along.
Without missing a beat, he turns up the volume, his eyes sparkling. Then, he rolls down both windows.
You already know what he's doing.
Seconds later, the car's racing down the road, the wind tearing through the windows, music blasting.
You're both screaming the lyrics like the world's ending at sunrise and this is your last night to be idiots.
You glance at him mid-chorus and he's already looking at you, laughing between verses, smile wide, that annoyingly perfect left dimple stealing all the attention.
And in that exact second with the city blurring past, your voice cracking, and the night wrapped around you like a promise . you feel it.
That warm, terrifying, chest-bursting kind of alive.
Not the polite "oh this is fun" alive.
The oh god, I might actually be okay one day kind of alive.
He pulls up in front of the hotel, tires sighing gently against the curb.
But you don't move.
You don't want to go back. Not yet. Not to the quiet room, the overly air-conditioned lobby, the end of whatever this was.
You want to stay. Just a little longer. Talk more about Arctic Monkeys. Stretch the night until it forgets it's supposed to end.
After your chaotic little singing competition complete with wind-blown hair and shouted lyrics off-key enough to startle birds the conversation never stopped. Music. Albums. Lyrics. The way certain songs feel like home and heartbreak at the same time.
You kept calling him Alex, after Alex Turner and he kept rolling his eyes, muttering "he's so much better than me," like it was a fact of the universe.
You asked how. You asked why.
He didn't answer.
Just smoothly rerouted the conversation back to Arctic Monkeys, like your question had been a commercial break he was fast-forwarding through.
Then he mentioned casually, like it wasn't world-altering that he'd been to one of their concerts.
You almost screamed.
Your jaw dropped. Your brain short-circuited. You looked at him like he'd just told you he moonlighted as a backup singer. And your reaction? Sent him into a full-on laughing fit.
Not the polite kind.
The real, stomach-clutching, head-thrown-back, soul-sparking kind of laugh.
And you sat there thinking he laughs like someone who belongs to nights like this. Wild ones. Unexpected ones. The kind you replay for years because they remind you that you were there, that you lived.
And now... now he's parked.
But you're still not ready to let go
You glance at him. He's already looking at you.
You smile. He smiles back.
"Thanks... for the ride, and for all of this," you say softly.
"My pleasure, Miss Valerie," he teases, eyes warm with that same playful spark.
You smile at the name Valerie the one he's been calling you all night.
You open the door, pausing for a moment to glance back at him one last time.
"Goodnight, Alex," you say with a grin.
"Goodnight, Valerie." he say with a smirk.
You step out, turning away toward the hotel entrance when it hits you
You never asked for his name.
You spin around, ready to stop him but it's too late. He's already gone, the car melting into the night like he was never even there.
You groan quietly to yourself.
You already know... you'll replay this night a thousand times.
The day might be over but the memory? That's not going anywhere.
But you for sure know you will regret one thing.
You never asked for his name.
He never asked for yours.