I rushed over, raising my arm to wave a bartender down—then remembered the bracelet. I held it high.

That’s when I saw the blonde guy from earlier—Bastian, I think. His eyes landed on the bracelet, then travelled down to me. A flicker of recognition crossed his face… then something else. Not irritation, exactly. More like... resignation.

He leaned in, voice raised over the music. “What are you after?”

“Wait, you’re a bartender?” I asked, thrown off. With his build, I’d assumed he was the bouncer.

He looked at me, unimpressed. “Bartender, sometimes DJ, and owner of Club Dusk. Bastian Ames, at your service. Now, what do you want?”

My cheeks flushed. Well, that explained the attitude about us breaking the rules. Just wait until I told Iah and Val.

“Water! With ice, please!” I blurted, voice a little too desperate. I wasn’t going to lie—I was pleading.

He didn’t move right away. He hesitated, eyes locking onto mine a second too long—like he was checking for something. Then, with a tight nod, he filled a glass, added ice, and slid it across the bar.

I grabbed it with shaky hands and drank like my life depended on it. My whole body was still buzzing—heart pounding, skin flushed, the music echoing through me like a ghost’s touch. I pressed the glass to my forehead, willing it to cool the fire crawling beneath my skin.

I risked a look at the stage.

Howl was still up there, head lowered, lips brushing the mic.

Like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just sung the soul right out of my body and into his perfect hands.

I turned back. Bastian was watching me. Not with amusement. He looked... assessing. Eyes narrowed, jaw set.

“What?” I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out rough.

“You alright?” he asked. He actually looked concerned.

“I—yeah. Just hot. That crowd, it was intense.”

He nodded slowly. Too slowly.

“You’re not the first,” he said. “The band has… an effect.”

The way he said it made me pause. Not teasing. Not casual. It sounded… practised. Like he’d said it before. I don’t know why, but it annoyed me. I decided to pry further.

“Meaning what, exactly?”
I cringed at how defensive I sounded. That made Bastian smirk as he leaned over the bar, resting his arms on the countertop.

“Well, just like any fan of the band—some cry, some swoon, some get a bit… frisky.”
He inclined his head toward the crowd.

I turned to see exactly what he was talking about. Couples locked in deep embrace—some kissing, some full-on grinding against one another—moving to the beat like they were under a spell. At the front of the stage, men and women stood with arms outstretched, eyes glassy with lust. They wanted a hit of that ecstasy. Howl was giving it to them—leaning close but staying just out of reach, his gaze beckoning as he caressed the mic. When he stopped singing to strum his guitar, his fingers barely grazed the strings. He thrust his hips forward, and the crowd devoured it.

I turned back to Bastian, the heat of embarrassment colouring my cheeks.

But that wasn’t what I had experienced.

I’d had a full-on vision of the two of us—and it had felt real.

I felt his hands on me. I felt the heat of his breath on my neck. I felt his arousal as he abruptly pulled me against him.

I shook my head slightly, murmuring more to myself than to him, “Well, that’s not what I felt…”

Bastian heard me. His gaze sharpened. “Sorry, did you say ‘felt’?”

I froze. “No, I uh…never mind.”

He didn’t let it go. His voice dropped an octave, not aggressive, just…focused. “What did you experience?”

The air around us shifted and I felt trapped.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t say it. He would think I was mad. Any sane person would. Not to mention saying it out loud would mean it was real – and I still wasn’t sure I hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

“I just need to use the bathroom,” I said quickly, backing away. “Too much water, I guess.” I shrugged and popped the glass down on the bar. I turned quickly and ran towards the ladies. I didn’t have to look back to see if he was still watching me. I could feel it.

I burst through the bathroom doors and, thankfully, found it empty. Probably everyone else was still lost in the music outside, caught up in the heat of the gig. The olive green tiled walls here muffled the sound, but I could still catch Howl’s voice—mournful and melodic—slithering through the cracks, wrapping around me like a ghostly thread.

The air was cooler—a relief against the fire still burning beneath my skin. Dampness clung to the cracked tiles, mingling with the sharp sting of bleach—a scent that spoke of age and neglect. It wasn’t clean, but it was a refuge. The dim lighting, paired with the musty dampness, made it feel more like an underground dungeon.

Outside, the dance floor was a chaos of smells: stale sweat, spilled alcohol, and a heady mix of perfumes, sweet and sharp, swirling together in a dizzying cocktail. Here, in this faded sanctuary, the world felt momentarily slowed, as if time was holding its breath.

I headed to one of the sinks and splashed cold water on my face, careful not to ruin the eye makeup Val had painstakingly perfected. Then, with my chilled hands, I pressed the dampness to the back of my neck and tilted my head up, trying to steady my breathing.

Finally, I looked at myself in the mirror.

I was a flushed, sweaty mess. My perfect curls were gone, replaced with wild beach waves. My eye makeup had gone from glamorous to full pirate mode—liner smudged and running. I grabbed some paper towels and tried to salvage what I could.

Good luck with that. You're a mess.

That little voice in my head always knew when to chime in. And it wasn’t wrong. I was a mess physically, mentally and emotionally.

I was in a committed relationship with a good guy. Carter was everything I should want. And yet… here I was, having the most impure thoughts about a musician with, let’s be real here,  an ego the size of Averon City. He probably loved people throwing themselves at him. Got off on it.

I was reaching—grasping for any reason to put myself off him. I swiped under my right eye, trying to revive some hint of a cat-eye. My green eyes popped—brightened by the makeup, the alcohol, and maybe the shame. I mirrored the motion on the other eye, fixing the angle. But staring at myself just brought him back.

His eyes. Intense. Calculated. The loveliest shade of violet.

The dark liner I wore made me think of how his eyes glowed beneath the shadows of his makeup. Like a beacon of beauty breaking through the dark.

A sudden vibration in my chest made me jump.

I’d forgotten I’d tucked my phone into my corset. I was amazed it hadn’t fallen out.

I fished it out, grimacing at how slick it was with sweat. Classy. I wiped it off on another towel and turned it on—only for my heart to sink.

More missed calls from Carter. A string of messages, each more desperate than the last:

Hey, I’m sorry about today. Can we talk?

Why aren’t you picking up, El?

Are you really this mad?

I’m at your house. Where are you?

El, talk to me please. Where are you?

This… wasn’t like him. Why was he acting like this? Couldn’t he handle a little silent treatment for one night?

I bit the inside of my lip. I needed to calm him down—just for tonight. I’d send a message, let him know I was out, and then ignore my phone for the rest of the night.

But how to even word it? “Soz, out with the girls” didn’t quite cover it.

I typed:

Hey Carter, sorry. Val and Iah showed up to take me out for my birthday as a surprise. Just at Club Dusk and will be home late. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can chat about everything. Have a good night x

Yeah. That ought to do it.

I didn’t wait for a reply. I switched my phone to airplane mode and tucked it — again — into my corset. I wasn’t really looking forward to that chat.

What could we even compromise on?

I’d show him drawings of my visions — the dead figure, the stranger, those strange symbols — and he’d pretend everything was normal? Sure. That’ll happen.

I glanced at my reflection.

A sad face stared back.

Why had his messages sobered me up so quickly?

I thought back to earlier, when Val and Iah had surprised me. For the first time in ages, I’d felt something real — happiness.

My friends were back. Around them, I could breathe a little easier. Be more myself.

But even with them, I’d kept so much inside. It had taken a few drinks just to admit the truth. About Carter.

How I cared for him, yes... but how he couldn’t leave it alone. Always pushing to see my art. Always wanting more than I was ready to give.

These dreams, these dark sketches — they weren’t his to see. They weren’t anyone’s.

My eyes met the mirror again, betraying the sadness I tried to ignore. I sighed.

He needed to back off.

And if he couldn’t?

Then maybe it was time he let me go entirely.

My thoughts drifted back to earlier that night—standing in line outside the club, only to watch Iah waltz through the back entrance without a care. I’d followed her, playing the responsible one. But if I was truly honest with myself?

I liked it. The thrill. The danger.

It was exciting. Daring. Different. And maybe that’s what this whole place was about. Club Dusk. A space where you could shed the rules and become whoever you wanted to be.

Maybe that’s why I’d had that vision of Howl.

I caught my reflection smirking. A slow, seductive smile.

Maybe my imagination is just that good.

Maybe it showed me what I really wanted from a man. Not just passion—but curiosity. Hunger. A desire to learn what makes me squirm. Slow. Inquisitive. Intentional.

Carter was… fast. Predictable. Repetitive.

And always left me wanting, just not in the way he thought.