"Elara, stop standing there like a lost tourist," Talia huffs, tugging at Elara's arm. "Come on."
Elara glances up at the glass-fronted building, its lights flickering like stars. "I don't know, T… it's—big." She bites her lip. "And… fancy. I don't even know half the people here."
"You know me, don't you?" Talia says, rolling her eyes. "That's enough. Tonight, is about celebrating you. You survived four fucking years."
Elara chuckles nervously. "Survived, yes. Graduated… barely."
She looks at the mirrored doors. Through the glass, she can see a crowd mingling, laughing, the shimmer of gowns and tuxedos. A few familiar faces from her department wave, students she recognizes, but doesn't really know.
"See?" Talia beams. "Familiar faces. Nothing to worry about. And if they stare, just smile, you earned it."
Elara is a young brilliant mind who just bagged a first class in Data Science, from their prestigious West Bridge University.
"It's just that you've been cooped up with books for years, and now it's time to let loose. Time to see what the world outside textbooks looks like." Talia nudges her playfully. "And trust me, the world is loud, shiny, and very good at making you spill a drink."
Elara laughs softly. "I'll try not to embarrass myself too badly."
"Try?" Talia gasps, mock horror on her face. "Elara Moore, the graduate who survived group projects, term papers, and sleepless nights, is worried about spilling a drink?" She grabs her hand. "Come on. We're already late."
They step into the lobby.
"Oh wow," she murmurs, glancing around. "It's… really fancy."
"It's a billionaire hangout, Elara. Fancy is an understatement." Talia grabs her wrist and drags her toward the bar. "Drinks are on me. Just focus on looking alive and smiling. The rest is optional."
Elara notices some familiar faces among the crowd: a girl from her department laughing with two guys, a boy she vaguely recognizes from her thesis group. She waves awkwardly, and they wave back. A small relief washes over her. She belongs here in some way, even if only by graduation robes and nerves.
"You okay?" Talia asks, tilting her head. "You're staring like you've never seen people before."
"I… I'm fine," Elara says, forcing a smile. "It's just… loud. And everyone's so confident. I feel…" She hesitates, searching for the right word. "Tiny."
"You're not tiny," Talia says firmly, squeezing her shoulder. "You're an adult. You just have to act like you belong for a few hours. After that, you can run back to your safe little world."
Elara laughs again, more genuinely this time, "I'll try," she says. "But if I end up spilling something on someone?"
Talia grins. "You will. Guaranteed. Just embrace it. Tonight, is our night."
Elara takes a deep breath. For once, she lets herself feel a little reckless. Just a little. She shrugs and lets herself be pulled in. The bartender slides two flutes of vodka across the counter.
"Just… one drink first," Elara mutters, already feeling her stomach twist at the scent of the drink.
"One?" Talia raises an eyebrow. "Elara, it's a celebration! Come on."
Elara lifts hers hesitantly, swirling the liquid. She takes a cautious sip, and the warmth spreads slowly through her chest.
"This is… strong," she murmurs, a grin slipping onto her face despite herself.
"Exactly the point," Talia says, already sipping hers.
Elara glances around. People are dancing, laughing, and spilling drinks and stories alike. She lets herself relax, taking another pour of the liquid, this time she consumed it at like a pro. She took another shot, the warmth climbs to her head, light and dizzying. She laughs, a little too loud, as Talia twirls past her.
"You're blushing," Talia teases. "Stop staring at everyone like they're aliens."
Elara giggles, swaying on her heels. The room tilts slightly, making her heartbeat race faster. "I… I think I'm feeling it," she admits. Her voice is breathy, uncertain, tinged with excitement.
"Feeling what?"
"Tipsy… I think." She takes another sip, letting the burn slide down her chest. Every laugh and cheer from the crowd sounds louder, brighter, more thrilling.
Talia leans close, laughing too, and her words barely audible over the music. "See? You belong here, even if only for tonight."
Elara swirls her glass again. The colorless liquid catches the lights, and she watches it sparkle, feeling a strange giddiness in her stomach. She spins in a small circle, holding her glass out like she's performing for no one, and laughs. The sound is hers, full and carefree.
A few clumsy steps later, she nearly bumps into someone and stumbles, but catches herself on the counter. Her heart races, head spinning lightly.
"Oh… wow," she whispers to herself. "This is… actually fun."
Talia claps her hands. "Exactly! Now drink!"
Elara obeys, drinking again. Each gulp brings a new warmth, a new looseness, a carefree haze. Her thoughts are slow, disjointed: This is too much… but why not? She twirls once more, laughing at the dizziness, feeling free in a way she hasn't in years.
Elara spins in the middle of the dance floor, Talia cheering beside her. And every sip of vodka seems to make the world sparkle brighter.
"This… is amazing!" Her hair sticks slightly to her forehead, but she doesn't care.
Talia twirls past her, smirking. "You said just one drink, look at you now!"
Elara giggles, spinning again, but then a sudden wave hits her stomach. A tight, queasy twist that steals her breath. She freezes mid-step, clutching her stomach.
"Elara?" Talia leans in, concern flickering in her eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I… I think I need…" She stumbles slightly, swaying. "Bathroom. Now."
Talia raises an eyebrow. "Already?"
Elara shakes her head, dizzy. "Just… need to fix myself. I'll be back."
She pushes through the crowd, laughing nervously at the drunken blur around her.
She spots a door marked RESTROOM and dives in. Relief hits too late, the moment she's alone, the nausea crashes down.
"Ugh…" she groans, bending over the sink.
A few moments later, she's leaning closer to the toilet, retching violently. Her hair sticks to her face, vodka and panic mingling.
And then… she hears a calm, almost gentle voice.
"Hey, are you okay? I guess you entered the wrong restroom."
Elara jerks her head up, eyes wide. And there he is.
A man, tall, immaculately dressed, standing just inside the doorway. His expression is calm, no judgment, no shock, just concern. She freezes mid-gag, embarrassed beyond belief.
"I—I'm fine," she stammers, voice shaky. "Just… a little… drunk."
He steps closer, careful, respectful distance. "Here, sit down. Take a deep breath."
"I… I'm so sorry," she whispers, cheeks flaming. "I—I didn't—"
He shakes his head slightly. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Happens more than you think."
Elara swallows hard, her voice barely audible. "Am I in the wrong rest room?"
He raises a brow but doesn't comment, only crouches slightly to her level, steadying her. "Okay. We'll fix this. Let's get you cleaned up and somewhere safe."
She gapes, too tipsy to protest. Somehow, despite her panic and humiliation, there's something in his calm, careful presence that makes her feel… safer.
For a moment, all the music, the lights, the dizzying champagne fade. There's only the bathroom, the cold tile beneath her feet, and the stranger who just appeared like he was meant to.
She rinses her mouth again, splashes water on her face, then straightens slowly. The room still tilts, but less now. She wipes her hands on a paper towel, breathes out.
"Thank you," she says, voice low. "I'll… I'll just find my friend."
He nods, already opening the door for her. "Let's go."
They step back into the noise. Music crashes over them again, louder than before. Elara scans the crowd, blinking hard, and standing on her toes.
She pulls out her phone, fingers clumsy. She checked to see if there's any miss calls from Talia, but none.
Her chest tightens.
"She was right here," Elara murmurs, more to herself than him. "She wouldn't just leave."
He watches her carefully, not hovering, not rushing her. "Let's check outside."
They move through the crowd together. He stays half a step behind her, close enough that people part easily. She notices without really thinking about it, how no one bumps into her, how she doesn't feel lost anymore.
Outside, the air is cooler. Quieter.
Elara looks around again. Nothing. No Talia. No familiar faces.
"She's probably fine," he says calmly. "These parties scatter people."
She laughs weakly. "That's one way to put it."
Her phone buzzes suddenly. A text.
Elara reads the message from Talia again, the letters wobbling on her screen.
TALIA: I'm okay, found someone I know. Go home if you need to. I'll explain tomorrow.
Elara exhales in relief then spots a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Without thinking, she reaches for one.
"Celebration continuation!" she declares.
He raises a brow. "Maybe slow down."
"But it's my graduation," she insists, tilting the glass to her mouth. Some spills on her dress. She doesn't notice. "I'm a certified adult now. Legally. Emotionally questionable."
He sighs—quiet, resigned—but lets her finish.
They head toward the parking lot. Elara walks in zigzags, pointing at random things.
"That tree looks like a pineapple," she murmurs.
"That's a lamp post," he says.
"Oh." She pauses. "Well… it looks delicious."
He doesn't argue.
At the car, he opens the door for her. She slides in sideways, giggling, then adjusts herself.
Inside, the city lights smear across the windows as they drive. Elara rests her head back.
"You know," she mumbles, "today I almost cried because my cap fell off on stage. Very dramatic. People cheered anyway. I think they thought it was part of the performance."
"Sounds memorable."
"It was stupid," she says, then laughs at herself. "I'm stupid."
"I'm stupid as fuck."
"You're drunk," he corrects.
"Same difference."
"You need to rest," he says calmly.
She pouts, but doesn't argue as he helps her out of the car. Her steps are slow, uneven. Her words quieter now.
Everything around her feels distant.
They walk down a quiet hallway, her steps uneven, her weight leaning more on him than she realizes. She stops once, blinks at the floor like its moving, and then keeps going because he doesn't let her fall.
The room they enter is unfamiliar. Clean. Still.
He guides her to the bed and helps her sit. She exhales, sinking into the mattress like she's been holding herself upright for too long. Her shoes scrape the floor as she tries to kick them off but misses.
He crouches and removes them for her instead.
She watches him with unfocused eyes, then frowns slightly, as if a thought is trying to form and failing.
"Let me get you water," he said.
"Don't go," she murmurs, voice soft and careless. "Just… don't."
"Don't fucking leave me here okay, stay with me."