“Choose one. You have ten seconds,” said a man who appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost.

Panicking as I tried to think fast—which had never been my strong suit—I focused on what I’d be most likely to use.

“Shield,” I blurted.

“Bow and arrow,” David said almost simultaneously.

“Shield,” the man repeated, opening the door to his right. “Bow and arrow,” he added, gesturing to the left.

With a knot in my stomach, I followed my path. When I turned to glance back at David, the door was already closing.

I had no idea what would happen next. I just wanted it to be over so I could finally use the bathroom—I really had to go.

Unlike the other rooms, this one was brighter.

“Choose only one,” said a woman standing near a glass panel at the end of the corridor.

Displayed on it were photos of three singers: Calum Scott, Gloria Groove, and Adele. This one was easier. I loved all of them. Gloria made me feel alive, Adele made me cry, and Calum’s songs always sent me drifting somewhere else.

Still, I had a soft spot for British artists—so Gloria was out. And as much as I adored Adele, Calum wasn’t just “the Adele of the Valley.” He was my favorite.

Easy as breathing.

“Calum Scott,” I said confidently. Before walking through the door that opened, I turned back to the woman. “Are we almost done? I really need the bathroom."

She smiled.

“Just two more doors.”

I passed through into a dark panel painted like a galaxy.

“Choose a door,” the man’s deep voice echoed again.

This time, there were four options—two on each side of the corridor. On the right: a book and a paintbrush. On the left: a musical clef and a television. Hobbies. Reading, painting, watching… and music, maybe listening or playing.

As much as I loved a good book, nothing compared to movies and music. Films were amazing—you could discover new stories or revisit old ones, not to mention the musicals.

Still, nothing compared to the indescribable pleasure of listening to music. Especially your favorite song. Music could make you feel everything—just differently.

"Musical clef.”

The door opened, and I stepped inside quickly. Darkness swallowed me whole. I couldn’t even see my own hands when the door closed, and a chill ran down my spine.

I didn’t fear the dark—I hated feeling lost inside it. The silence was unsettling.

" Your name,” a deep voice demanded, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

I screamed loud enough to hear laughter through the walls.

“P-Pedro,” I said once I caught my breath.

“Full name.”

I swallowed.

“Pedro Cavalcante.”

“Year of birth.”

“2005.”

“Choose one: Wolf, Element or Date.”

I didn’t understand—but one option stood out.

“Element.”

“A song.”

“Heaven, Calum Scott."

“A color.”

"Black.”

"Describe a defining memory in one word.”

That one caught me off guard.

I had many defining memories—none easily reduced to a single word. Even at nineteen, I already carried experiences I wished I’d never had, though they shaped who I was.

I hesitated.

It wasn’t the right answer—but it was the most defining one I had back then.

“Basketball,” I said quietly.

Moments later, blue designs lit up the walls. LED lights framed the door, and a glowing arrow on the floor pointed the way.

I followed it.

The brightness of the next room stung my eyes. It was softly blue, with white walls covered in circles and abstract shapes. Paint splatters were everywhere—every shade of blue imaginable, some almost green. The smell of paint was strong but oddly sweet.

“That’s it?” Phillip said as he appeared behind me.

David emerged from another exit, Elisa beside him.

“What happened?” Phillip asked.

"Ignore her,” David said with a shrug. “She’s complaining.”

"I’m not complaining,” Elisa protested. “I just thought it’d take longer.”

“I don’t know who you’re complaining to,” Gih said as she appeared, glaring at me, “but I’m on your side.”

How did everyone keep appearing like magic?

“If you were a tour guide, you’d be one of the worst,” Phillip said, giving me a strange look.

“We haven’t even started yet,” I replied.

Before I could process anything else, the door opened. Staff stepped in—three women and a man.

“Please stand up,” said the woman with short dark hair.

As we rubbed hand sanitizer into our palms, two men handed out white cans and brushes. Small stickers were placed on the backs of our hands.

“Don’t remove them yet,” the woman warned when David tried to peel his off, making me laugh at his expression.

The lights dimmed. Neon designs and paint splatters began to glow. We were guided to the center of the room and handed goggles.

Then it started.

They dipped brushes into the cans and flung glowing paint at us—fireflies, shooting stars, chaos and beauty colliding.

“My hair!” Aly screamed, hiding behind David as he laughed.

“It washes out!” someone shouted.

The paint chaos was hilarious. My stomach hurt from laughing as David tried to cover Aly in even more paint.

A drop hit my mouth—sour. I wiped it away with my sleeve, smearing my face further.

When it ended, a door opened to a dark corridor—the final passage.

“I’m going to kill you, Pedro,” Aly muttered.

“This is why I hate going out with you,” Gih snapped.

David smeared paint across Aly’s face and ran.

“David!”

Music grew louder as we followed the corridor. And then—

“Holy shit,” David whispered when we reached the main hall of BlueHouse.

It was like stepping into another world. Like Pandora from Avatar.

Blue LED lights covered everything. The ceiling sparkled like the Milky Way. A glowing tree made of fiber optics stood at the center. Beneath our feet, luminous water flowed like veins.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Aly said, smiling up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” David said. “This is just… incredible.”

I noticed the symbol on his hand—a flaming arrow. I peeled off my own sticker.

A musical note.

David leaned closer as the music surged.

“You’re officially the best tour guide,” he said.

And suddenly, the blue around us felt dull compared to the blue in his eyes.

  [...]

Within minutes, we were scattered across BlueHouse.

Phillip and the others headed straight to the dance floor as soon as they got their drinks, while Gih stayed behind with Elisa, deep in a conversation I honestly couldn’t tell you how it even started.

Meanwhile, I felt a little nervous. Slightly out of place. I was sitting alone at the bar, waiting for the bartender to bring my drink.

It wasn’t real loneliness. It was more like insecurity—like being in such a crowded place made me hyperaware of myself. I liked going out to places like that sometimes. It made me feel like I was actually living instead of just staying in my room or at the hotel. But there were days when places like that made me feel strangely disconnected.

 And tonight was one of those days.

Yes, I was excited about being so close to people I’d admired for years. But I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know if I should loosen up, be more charismatic, or just stand back and take it all in.

“Why don’t you go dance too?” Aly asked, catching me off guard as she sat down beside me.

I tried not to look startled when I answered.

"I don’t know how to dance. I’d rather stay here.”

“It’s not about knowing how to dance. It’s about having fun,” she said. The bartender approached, setting down the drink I’d been waiting on for the past few minutes. “What are you having?”

“Magic Sea,” I said, studying the glass in my hand. “It’s vodka and… I have no idea what the blue stuff is. I just ordered it because it looked pretty.”

She laughed, resting her elbow on the counter.

"Try it. If it’s good, I’ll get one.”

I looked at the drink. It really did look like a magical ocean—shimmery, almost like glitter floating in translucent blue. Without overthinking it, I took a sip. My throat burned, then the burn melted into something refreshing as the warmth spread downward.

“Well?” Aly pressed.

“Yeah. Approved,” I said, feeling the coolness in my breath. “It burns a little, but it’s great.”

“In that case, I’ll—”

“Excuse me,” someone interrupted.

A young woman approached us—specifically Aly.

“Sorry to bother you, but can I take a picture with you?”

Aly’s smile widened instantly. She took the girl’s phone, and the girl stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and flashing a peace sign at the camera.

If I’d known it was that easy to ask for a picture, I wouldn’t have nearly fainted from nerves earlier—I would’ve just walked up to their table.

When the girl returned to her group of friends—who had clearly been watching us—I turned back to Aly.

“What’s that like?”

“What?”

"Having fans. Taking pictures like that.”

“Oh. That.” She leaned back against the counter and shrugged. “I’ve been acting since I was a kid, so I’m used to cameras and all that. But the fan part—that’s still kind of new.”

There was something different in her tone, so I asked, “You don’t like it?”

“No, that’s not it. I love my fans. All of them. But…” She sighed. “Sometimes it’s exhausting, you know? Like right now—I’m here to have fun, not pose for photos. I don’t mind it. I just wish I could have a few minutes of ‘peace.’” She made air quotes with her fingers.

“That must be hard.”

“A little. That’s why I try to enjoy myself as much as I can when I’m somewhere like this.”

Something caught her attention, and she glanced to the side. Phillip walked up to us, holding a drink that shimmered with a translucent purple-blue hue.

“You guys just gonna stay here?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to dance,” I tried again.

He looked at Aly for two seconds. That was all it took.

Before I could react, each of them grabbed one of my arms and dragged me off the stool.

They pulled me onto the dance floor. By the time I found the beat, they were already dancing like they owned the place. I took another sip of my drink—longer this time. The alcohol burned again, but I welcomed it. It felt like liquid courage trying to loosen whatever still held me back.

Standing near Phillip, I couldn’t help laughing at the way David danced. He somehow mixed ’90s moves with TikTok choreography in a way that made it very clear he needed serious dance lessons. Still, he looked like he was having the time of his life—especially when people recognized him and pretended not to before “accidentally” bumping into him and apologizing.

We stayed there for a while, dancing to everything from early 2000s pop to the latest hits. At one point, Gih and Aly dragged Elisa to the middle so the three of them could dance wildly to a Shakira song.

We’d all had a few drinks, but we were still sober. More or less.

“Have you ever thought about how the brain named itself?” David asked when we went back to the bar for another round.

A straight line of dried paint ran from his left eye down to his cheek, like a scar he’d drawn on himself after we’d tried—and mostly failed—to dance to “Thriller.” I would’ve completely embarrassed myself if David hadn’t quietly helped me with a couple of steps while Phillip and Aly absolutely nailed the choreography.

“Have you ever thought about how I can’t tell if that’s the alcohol talking or just you?” I shot back, narrowing my eyes playfully.

"That, my friend, is David under the influence,” he replied, referring to himself in the third person.

I laughed.

“You getting another drink?”

“Me? No, I don’t think so…” He chuckled, settling into the chair and finishing what was left in his glass.

It felt strange seeing him there, so close to me. Talking. Laughing at his own nonsense while we waited to be served. That morning, I’d been so nervous just seeing him that I’d literally collapsed because of him. And now he was sitting next to me, making me feel something warm and unfamiliar—like nostalgia mixed with quiet happines.

David studied me, as if analyzing every drop of paint on my face. Being the center of his attention made me self-conscious.

“Come here,” he said suddenly, placing his hand on my face.

“W-What?”

He pulled me closer. His warm breath brushed my skin. His fingers moved across my cheek, smearing the paint like he was drawing something. A small smile tugged at his lips.

 “There you are... Much better.”

He stepped back.

I had no idea what he’d done, but somehow I felt better.

He looked at me for another moment, then reached into his pocket. Before the bartender returned, he pulled out his phone and tugged me closer again. This time, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his hand resting against my back.

On the screen, I saw it—he’d drawn paint scars on my face to match his. On my other cheek, he’d added a small smiley face.

Click.

“See? Looks good,” he said, showing me the picture before putting his phone away. “So—how long are you staying at the hotel?”

“Not sure. I’ll probably head home after the series premiere.”

He blinked.

“You’re staying there for two weeks?” I nodded. “You’ve got that kind of money?” he blurted. “I mean—not that it matters! Just… the rooms there are expensive. I’m lucky Queerflix is covering everything, or I’d go broke just paying for the stay. Sorry. That was a dumb comment, right?”

I held back a laugh.

“Don’t worry, my dad owns the hotel. So I kind of stay there for free. Even though sometimes I work there without getting paid.”

David’s mouth fell open slightly.

“Interesting…” he said, smiling. “Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then.”

“Yeah. Whenever you need something, just let me know. I can officially be your tour guide.”

“Really? That’d be great. I don’t know much about the culture here. Just the basics.”

“And what would the basics be?”

He laughed.

“No judgment?”

I shook my head.

“asically… Carnival. A little about soccer—not that I’m a huge fan—but I know about Pelé, Ronaldinho…  Honestly, I probably know more about your birds. After I watched Rio—you know, the movie with the blue macaws—I ended up researching them.”

I bit back a smile.

“Yeah, David. You’ve got a lot to learn about Brazil.”

"No judgment, Pedro,” he said, laughing at himself.

“I’ll teach you more about Brazil later.”

“I hope so. I want to understand why people say Brazilians are so ho…”

He trailed off, staring at me in a way that made my chest tighten.

“So…?”

He swallowed.

“Warm..."