🌙 Chapter 60: The Things That Slip
The club was still perfect.
That was the problem.
Nothing had changed.
Music still moved in slow, controlled waves. Lights still shifted exactly the way they were designed to. People still laughed, talked, existed like nothing in the world could touch them.
Everything was exactly how Jay built it.
So why did it feel like she couldn't breathe properly?
She stood alone now, back in her private section, fingers resting lightly against the glass railing. From here, the entire floor stretched out beneath her—orderly, predictable, distant.
Safe.
It was supposed to feel safe.
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"Damn it…" she muttered under her breath, the words barely audible.
Her chest felt… tight.
Not enough to panic.
Not enough to lose control.
Just enough to be irritating.
Uncomfortable.
Persistent.
Jay straightened slightly, rolling her shoulders back like that alone could fix it. Her breathing stayed steady—slow, measured, controlled.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Nothing was wrong.
She'd had worse days.
Much worse.
So why was this one sticking?
Her fingers tapped once against the railing.
Stopped.
Again.
Stopped.
"You're doing it again."
Mia's voice came from behind her, softer this time, careful.
Jay didn't turn. "Doing what."
"That thing where you act like everything's fine when it clearly isn't."
Jay let out a quiet breath through her nose. "You're starting to repeat yourself."
"And you're starting to get worse at hiding it."
That—
That irritated her.
"Stop," Jay said flatly.
Mia didn't.
"You left early," she continued. "You came here without saying anything. You haven't snapped at Sebastian properly, which is already suspicious—"
"I said stop."
The second time came sharper.
Still controlled.
But thinner.
Mia went quiet.
Not backing off completely—
But stepping carefully now.
Jay pushed herself away from the railing, walking past her without another word. Her steps were steady, but there was something underneath them now—something tighter, less fluid.
She needed—
What?
Space?
Air?
Silence?
She didn't know.
And that annoyed her more than anything else.
The hallway outside her private section was quieter, the music fading slightly as the door closed behind her. The shift should've helped.
It didn't.
If anything—
It made it worse.
Because now it was just her.
And the noise in her head.
Jay exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair as she kept walking. Her heels echoed softly against the floor, each step too loud in the silence.
"Annoying," she muttered.
Her hand pressed briefly against her chest.
Just for a second.
Then dropped.
She kept walking.
Didn't stop until she reached the end of the hallway, pushing open the door that led outside.
Cool air hit her immediately.
Sharp.
Real.
Grounding.
Jay stepped out, the door closing behind her with a dull click. The noise of the club became distant, muffled—like it belonged to a different world entirely.
Better.
She inhaled deeply.
Once.
Twice.
Her shoulders eased slightly.
"There," she murmured to herself. "Nothing."
Nothing.
Right.
Her grip tightened slightly against the railing outside, her gaze fixed on the dark stretch of the city beyond.
Except—
It wasn't nothing.
Because her mind wasn't quiet.
Not even close.
"You're running."
Her jaw clenched.
"I'm not."
"You walked away."
"I left."
"Same thing."
Jay's hand tightened against the metal railing.
"Shut up," she muttered under her breath, though there was no one there to hear it.
Her breathing shifted slightly—still controlled, but no longer steady.
Slower.
Then faster.
Then forced back into rhythm.
She hated this.
Hated the way something so small could get stuck in her head and refuse to leave. Hated the way her chest felt too tight for no clear reason. Hated the fact that she couldn't just—
Fix it.
"Punyeta…" she muttered quietly—damn it, frustration slipping through as she pressed her fingers harder into the railing.
This didn't make sense.
She was fine.
She always was.
So why—
Her thoughts cut off abruptly as her chest tightened again.
Stronger this time.
Not pain.
Just—
Pressure.
Like something was sitting there, unmoving.
Unwelcome.
Jay inhaled sharply, her hand instinctively pressing against her chest again. "Not now," she said under her breath, irritation bleeding through.
This wasn't the place.
This wasn't the time.
She wasn't in school.
She wasn't surrounded by people asking questions.
She was here.
In control.
So why wasn't it working?
Her breathing hitched slightly.
Then again.
She forced it steady.
Forced it slow.
But it didn't settle.
It just—
Stayed.
Her fingers curled tighter against the railing, knuckles paling slightly. "Get a grip," she muttered, her voice low, sharper now.
This was stupid.
It was nothing.
Just a bad day.
Just—
Her thoughts slipped again.
Not into panic.
Not into fear.
But into something worse.
Frustration.
The kind that sat under your skin and refused to leave.
Her throat tightened slightly.
Jay swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the ground for a second before lifting again.
"Why does it even matter…" she muttered, quieter now.
No one answered.
Of course no one answered.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly for a moment before she forced it back into rhythm again.
In.
Out.
In—
Her breath caught.
Just slightly.
Enough to notice.
Jay froze.
Her fingers loosened from the railing for a second before gripping it again, harder this time.
"Not this," she whispered.
Not here.
Not now.
Her control didn't break.
Not completely.
But it slipped.
Just enough.
A crack.
Small.
But real.
Her eyes shut tightly for a second as she inhaled again, slower this time, forcing air into her lungs like she could push the feeling out.
It didn't leave.
It just—
Sat there.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
Jay exhaled shakily, opening her eyes again, her gaze unfocused for half a second before sharpening.
She straightened.
Forced her shoulders back.
Forced her breathing steady again.
And this time—
It held.
Barely.
But it held.
She stayed like that for a moment longer, gripping the railing, grounding herself in something solid until the tightness in her chest dulled enough to ignore.
Not gone.
Just quieter.
Manageable.
Her jaw tightened.
"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath.
Because that's what it felt like.
Losing control over something she couldn't even explain.
She pushed off the railing slowly, rolling her shoulders once more, her expression resetting piece by piece.
Cold.
Calm.
Untouched.
By the time she reached for the door again—
She looked like herself.
Perfectly fine.
Like nothing had happened.
But as she stepped back inside, the music wrapping around her again, the lights settling back into place—
That crack didn't disappear.
It stayed.
Hidden.
Waiting.
....