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The bass was so loud it felt like it had hands.
Like actual hands.
Like it reached into Megan’s ribcage, grabbed her lungs, and shook them like a maraca.
She stood just inside the doorway of the party, blinking slowly, as if her brain might reboot if she gave it a second.
It did not reboot.
It got worse.
The lights were flashing in a way that felt illegal. Purple, green, white, strobe-strobe-strobe. Someone screamed for no reason. Someone else laughed like a broken car engine. The air smelled like five different bad decisions layered on top of each other.
Megan adjusted the sleeves of her oversized hoodie, even though she had already adjusted them at least twelve times in the last two minutes.
This is fine, she told herself.
This is not fine, her entire nervous system replied.
Across the room, Manon was thriving.
Of course she was.
Manon was leaning against a wall like she owned gravity. Hoodie half-zipped, chain catching the flashing lights, cigarette between her fingers even though technically she wasn’t supposed to be smoking inside. She was laughing at something some guy said, head tilted back, eyes sharp and amused.
She looked like she belonged here.
She always did.
Megan, on the other hand, felt like someone had accidentally dropped her into the wrong simulation.
A guy brushed past her and spilled something sticky on her sleeve.
“Oh—sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
Megan stared at her arm.
“Okay,” she muttered. “That’s… texture.”
She rubbed it with a napkin she found on a table. The napkin disintegrated immediately.
“Cool,” she said to no one. “Love that for me.”
She glanced back at Manon.
Manon caught her eye immediately. She always did that. It was like some invisible string thing. Like no matter how chaotic everything was, she could always locate Megan in a crowd.
She gave her a quick grin, raised her drink in a little salute.
Megan tried to smile back.
It came out… not right.
Manon’s expression flickered for a second, like she noticed.
Then someone pulled her into a conversation again and she turned away.
Megan stood there for a few more seconds.
Then she did what she did best in overwhelming environments.
She started walking.
Not with a destination.
Just… walking.
She drifted past clusters of people who were talking too loud, laughing too hard, existing too intensely. Every conversation felt like it was happening directly inside her skull.
“…and then she literally—”
“Bro, I swear, I was like—”
“No, because that’s insane—”
Megan nodded at random intervals like an NPC programmed to seem socially functional.
At one point, someone handed her a drink.
She held it.
She did not drink it.
She put it down on the nearest surface like it was a bomb she had safely defused.
In the kitchen, it was worse.
Why was it worse?
Kitchens were supposed to be safe zones.
This one was full of people sitting on counters, someone aggressively shaking a bottle, another person trying to explain something with their whole body like they were performing interpretive dance.
Megan opened the fridge.
She didn’t know why.
She just… did.
Inside was chaos.
Energy drinks, half-empty bottles, something in a container that might have once been food but now existed in a philosophical state of decay.
She closed the fridge.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “No.”
She checked her phone.
7:52 PM.
They had been here for… thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes.
It felt like three business days.
Megan inhaled.
Exhaled.
Okay.
She could do this.
She could absolutely do this.
She lasted through family dinners. She survived group projects. She once sat through a three-hour train delay without crying.
This was basically the same thing.
It was not the same thing.
Another scream from the living room.
The bass dropped again like it had a personal vendetta.
Megan flinched so hard she hit her elbow on the counter.
“OW—okay,” she hissed. “That’s new.”
She stared at her elbow like it had betrayed her.
Then, very calmly, very logically, she decided:
No.
She was going to go talk to Manon.
She navigated back through the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream, except less graceful and more apologetic.
“Sorry—sorry—sorry—”
She found Manon near the same wall, now sitting on the arm of a couch, talking to two girls and a guy with a buzzcut.
Manon saw her immediately again.
“Yo,” she said, smiling. “You good?”
Megan stood there for a second, processing.
There was so much noise.
So many people.
So many overlapping voices.
She focused on Manon’s face like it was a fixed point in a storm.
“Can we go home?” she asked.
Not dramatic.
Not whiny.
Just… direct.
Manon blinked.
“Already?” she said, half-laughing. “We just got here, babe.”
One of the girls snorted.
“Damn,” she said. “Party speedrun.”
Megan smiled awkwardly.
Her hands were doing that thing where they didn’t know where to exist, so she tucked them into her sleeves.
“I know,” she said. “It’s just… loud. And… sticky.”
Manon looked at her for a second longer.
Then she leaned forward slightly.
“Give me a bit, yeah?” she said, voice softer but still casual. “I just got here.”
Megan nodded immediately.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”
She stepped back.
“Cool,” Manon said, already turning back to the conversation.
Megan stood there for a second.
Then she walked away again.
Okay.
That was fine.
Totally reasonable.
She could wait.
She just needed to… occupy herself.
She ended up on the stairs.
There were fewer people there.
Less noise.
Still noise.
But like… medium noise instead of maximum noise.
She sat down halfway up, hugging her knees.
A couple walked past her, laughing.
Someone tripped slightly and said “I’m good, I’m good” in a tone that suggested they were not good.
Megan watched them go.
She pulled out her phone again.
7:58 PM.
Six minutes had passed.
Time was fake.
She opened her notes app.
Typed:
Things I would rather be doing right now:
1. Sorting my sock drawer by favourite to least favourite
2. Watching that documentary about mushrooms again
3. Literally staring at a wall in silence
4. Being at home with Manon but like, quietly
She stared at number four.
Her chest did a small, weird thing.
She locked her phone.
Okay.
She could wait a little longer.
She stood up again after a few minutes and went back into the living room.
It was worse.
How was it worse?
The music was louder.
Or maybe she was just more tired.
Manon was dancing now.
Not like… choreographed dancing.
Just vibing.
Moving like she didn’t care who was watching.
She looked so free.
Megan loved that about her.
Hated this about the environment.
Loved her.
Hated this.
Her brain was doing opposites again.
Megan hovered at the edge of the room for a bit.
Then she made her way over again.
Manon spotted her mid-laugh.
“Hey,” she said, leaning down slightly so she could hear. “You okay?”
Megan nodded.
Then shook her head.
Then nodded again.
“Can we go home?” she asked.
Again.
Manon exhaled through her nose, a little sharper this time.
“Megs,” she said. “Seriously? It’s been like—what—ten minutes?”
“It’s been longer,” Megan said quietly.
Manon ran a hand through her hair.
“Just chill for a bit, yeah? Talk to people. Have fun.”
Megan looked around.
At the people.
At the chaos.
At the flashing lights that felt like they were personally targeting her eyeballs.
“Yeah,” she said.
But it came out wrong.
Flat.
Manon noticed.
Of course she did.
But someone grabbed her arm, pulled her back into dancing, and the moment slipped.
Megan stood there.
Then she nodded again, even though no one had asked her anything.
“Yeah,” she repeated to herself.
Then she turned and walked away.
Again.
This time she ended up in the bathroom.
It was quieter.
Not quiet.
But quieter.
There was a girl sitting on the edge of the bathtub, scrolling her phone.
She looked up.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” Megan said.
They both nodded at each other like two people acknowledging they existed in the same temporary bubble.
Megan stood in front of the mirror.
Her hair looked fine.
Her face looked fine.
She looked like someone who should be able to handle a party.
Which was honestly offensive.
“Do you ever feel like your body is lying about your capabilities?” she asked suddenly.
The girl blinked.
“…what?”
“Like,” Megan said, gesturing vaguely at herself, “I look like I could be here. But internally, I am… not.”
The girl stared at her.
Then she said, “I think you might be too sober for this conversation.”
“Yeah,” Megan said. “That tracks.”
She left the bathroom.
Back into the noise.
Back into the hands-in-her-ribcage bass.
She made it approximately two minutes before turning around again.
Nope.
Nope nope nope.
She went straight to Manon.
This time, she didn’t hover.
She didn’t wait.
She just stepped in front of her.
Manon paused mid-conversation.
“Megan—”
“Can we go home now?” Megan said.
Third time.
Her voice was still calm.
But thinner.
Like it was stretched.
Manon’s expression shifted.
Annoyance flickered first.
“Bro,” she said, not loudly but definitely sharper. “You’re killing the vibe.”
The words landed.
Megan blinked.
“I’m not trying to,” she said quickly. “I just—”
“Just what?” Manon said, exhaling. “It’s a party. You knew what it was gonna be.”
“I know,” Megan said. “I thought I could—”
“Well, try harder,” Manon snapped.
Silence.
Not actual silence.
The music was still blasting.
People were still talking.
But between them, something went very still.
Megan swallowed.
Her hands disappeared further into her sleeves.
“Okay,” she said.
Small.
Then she stepped back.
Manon turned away again.
Conversation resumed.
But it felt… off.
Megan stood there for a second.
Then she nodded.
Again.
She did that a lot.
Then she turned.
And walked.
Again.
This time, she didn’t stop in the kitchen.
Didn’t stop on the stairs.
Didn’t go to the bathroom.
She just walked until she found the front door.
She stood there, staring at it.
People were coming in.
Going out.
Laughing.
Shouting.
Living.
She put her hand on the handle.
Paused.
Her chest felt tight.
Not dramatic.
Just… tight.
Like a knot.
She leaned her forehead lightly against the door.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay.”
She wasn’t mad.
She wasn’t.
Manon liked this stuff.
This was her thing.
Megan knew that.
That was part of the deal.
Compromise.
Sacrifice.
Be there for each other.
She just… hadn’t realized how much this would cost her tonight.
The door opened suddenly and she stumbled back.
“Yo, you heading out?” someone asked.
“I—uh—maybe,” Megan said.
The person nodded like that made perfect sense and left.
Megan stood there again.
Then she stepped outside.
The cold air hit her like a reset button.
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Oh my god.”
It was quiet.
Not silent.
But normal.
Human-level sound.
Cars in the distance.
A faint breeze.
No bass.
No flashing lights.
No overlapping conversations drilling into her skull.
She leaned against the wall.
Closed her eyes.
Her shoulders dropped about three inches.
“I can think,” she murmured.
She stayed there for a minute.
Maybe two.
Then five.
Her breathing evened out.
Her brain slowly stopped vibrating.
She pulled out her phone.
8:17 PM.
She had lasted… longer than she thought.
Technically.
She stared at the screen.
Then she typed:
I’m outside
She didn’t hit send.
She stared at the message.
Deleted it.
Typed:
Can we go home?
Deleted that too.
She locked her phone.
Stuffed it back into her pocket.
She didn’t want to be annoying.
She didn’t want to ruin Manon’s night.
She could just… wait.
Maybe Manon would come out eventually.
Maybe—
The door opened again.
Megan looked up.
Manon stepped out.
She looked different.
Not in a big way.
But enough.
Her shoulders were slightly tense.
Her jaw set.
She spotted Megan immediately.
Of course she did.
There was that invisible string again.
“Megan,” she said.
Not annoyed.
Not sharp.
Just… Megan.
Megan straightened a little.
“Hi.”
They stood there for a second.
The cold air settling around them.
“You just left?” Manon asked.
Megan nodded.
“It was a lot.”
Manon exhaled slowly.
She ran a hand over her face.
“Yeah,” she said. “I figured.”
Silence again.
Then Megan said it.
Soft.
“Can we go home now?”
And this time, it landed differently.
Manon looked at her.
Really looked at her.
Not just the surface.
Not just the situation.
But Megan.
Her slightly hunched posture.
Her hands hidden in her sleeves.
The way her eyes were a little too wide, a little too tired.
The way she was trying so hard to not be a problem.
And it clicked.
All of it.
At once.
“Oh,” Manon said quietly.
Her expression shifted completely.
The annoyance drained out.
Replaced by something softer.
Something guilty.
“Hey,” she said, stepping closer. “Come here.”
Megan hesitated for half a second.
Then stepped forward.
Manon pulled her into a hug.
One arm around her shoulders, the other coming up to cradle the back of her head.
Grounding.
Steady.
Megan melted into it immediately.
Like her body had been waiting for this exact thing.
“I’m sorry,” Manon murmured into her hair. “I didn’t— I thought you were just being, like… dramatic or something.”
“I wasn’t trying to be,” Megan said, voice muffled against her hoodie.
“I know,” Manon said quickly. “I know that now.”
She pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her.
“You hate it in there, huh?”
Megan made a small face.
“Yeah.”
Manon huffed out a soft laugh.
“Yeah,” she said. “That tracks.”
She brushed a strand of hair away from Megan’s face.
“Why didn’t you just tell me it was that bad?”
“I did,” Megan said.
Manon winced.
“Okay, yeah. You did.”
Another pause.
Then Manon sighed.
“Alright,” she said. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Megan blinked.
“Really?”
“Yeah, really,” Manon said. “Party’s mid anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Megan said automatically.
“It is now,” Manon replied. “I’m not having fun if you’re out here having a crisis over the concept of bass.”
“I was not having a crisis,” Megan said.
“You were beefing with the air,” Manon said.
“It was aggressive air,” Megan defended.
Manon laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then she leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Megan’s forehead.
“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s dip.”
Megan smiled.
A real one this time.
“Okay.”
They walked away from the house together.
The noise faded behind them with every step.
Megan felt lighter with each block.
Like layers were peeling off.
Manon lit a cigarette as they walked, glancing over at her.
“You good now?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Megan said. “Like… significantly more human.”
“Good,” Manon said.
They walked in comfortable silence for a bit.
Then Megan said, “I’m sorry I ruined your night.”
Manon stopped walking.
“Hey,” she said.
Megan looked at her.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” Manon said. “I just needed to actually listen the first time.”
Megan nodded slowly.
“I tried to be chill,” she said.
“I know you did,” Manon replied. “That’s kinda the problem.”
Megan frowned slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t gotta force yourself into stuff that makes you miserable just ‘cause I like it,” Manon said. “That’s not how this works.”
Megan processed that.
Slowly.
“Okay,” she said.
Then, after a second:
“But I also want to do things with you.”
Manon’s expression softened again.
“I know,” she said. “And you do. Just… maybe not this.”
“Yeah,” Megan said. “Definitely not this.”
They resumed walking.
The city was quieter here.
Streetlights casting soft pools of light.
Cars passing occasionally.
Normal.
Manageable.
“Next time,” Manon said, “we pick something that doesn’t feel like psychological warfare for you.”
Megan nodded.
“Agreed.”
“Like… movie night,” Manon suggested.
“Yes,” Megan said immediately. “With snacks.”
“Obviously,” Manon said.
“And a blanket,” Megan added.
“Yeah.”
“And no bass that tries to fight my organs.”
“Deal.”
Megan smiled again.
Then she bumped her shoulder lightly against Manon’s.
“Thank you for coming outside,” she said.
Manon shrugged.
“Couldn’t just let you escape into the night like some cryptid.”
“I would’ve thrived as a cryptid,” Megan said.
“You would’ve organized the forest,” Manon replied.
“I would’ve,” Megan said proudly.
Manon laughed again.
They reached their place not long after.
The moment the door closed behind them, Megan exhaled like she had been holding her breath for hours.
“Home,” she said.
“Home,” Manon echoed.
Megan immediately kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch.
“No more people,” she declared.
“No more people,” Manon agreed, dropping her keys on the table.
She walked over, nudged Megan’s legs aside, and sat down.
Megan immediately leaned against her.
Automatic.
Easy.
Manon wrapped an arm around her without thinking.
“Better?” she asked.
“Infinitely,” Megan said.
They sat there for a bit.
Quiet.
Calm.
Safe.
Then Megan tilted her head up.
“Can we watch the mushroom documentary?”
Manon stared at her.
“You’re actually serious about that, huh?”
“Very,” Megan said.
Manon shook her head, smiling.
“Yeah, alright,” she said. “Put it on.”
Megan lit up.
“YES.”
She grabbed the remote with surprising speed.
As the TV flickered to life, Manon watched her for a second.
The way she relaxed into the couch.
The way her whole body seemed to settle now that the world was quiet again.
And she thought:
Yeah.
This.
This was worth way more than any party.
She pulled Megan a little closer.
Megan didn’t even look away from the screen.
Just leaned into her more.
“Hey,” Manon said softly.
“Yeah?”
“Next time you hate something,” she said, “don’t wait three tries to tell me.”
Megan thought about that.
“Okay,” she said.
Then, after a beat:
“But to be fair, I did tell you three times.”
Manon snorted.
“Yeah, yeah. I deserved that.”
Megan grinned.
And the documentary started.
And everything felt exactly right.