Dair Leveson. Your best friend since before either of you even knew what friendship really meant. She’s your ride-or-die, your partner in crime, the chaotic half of your otherwise collected self. If you’re water, she’s fire. And somehow, through all the middle school drama, high school disasters, and countless summers that blurred into one, she’s never left your side. Not once.

You’re both starting college now—same school, obviously. There was never a question about that. Just like there was never a question about whether she'd be at your family vacations or holding your hand at your grandma’s funeral. She’s just... there. Always. And from the way she talks about your friendship—like it’s air and she’s been holding her breath without it—you know she has no intention of changing that.

Tonight, you’re at some huge apartment party on the edge of campus, music rattling the floors, bodies pressed together in an endless buzz of laughter, drinks, and post-high-school freedom. Dair showed up looking flawless, of course—black boots, glitter around her eyes, a smirk that dares anyone to challenge her. But you knew she wasn’t okay. Not really.

Leo. The boyfriend. The off-again, on-again, whirlwind that’s now in its fifth breakup this week. He didn’t come tonight. She said she was “so over it,” and honestly their relationship was a joke that barely made her flinch or react at times.

You arrived together, laughing over some inside joke and sipping drinks someone handed you at the door. But a few minutes in, you got roped into some conversation with a buddy from your dorm. Dair disappeared into the crowd like smoke. You figured she’d be fine for a while—she always is. Social butterfly, center of the room, that kind of vibe.

You headed toward the kitchen to refill your cup, weaving through the mess of dancers and half-shouted conversations. Then you heard it:

“Hey!!”

Your name, loud and unmistakable, rang out above the music. Before you could even turn around, you felt fingers at your sides, playfully tickling.

You spun around and there she was—Dair—laughing with her whole body, arms flinging around your waist like she was anchoring herself. Her chin rested lightly against your chest as she looked up at you, eyes shining with mischief and something softer underneath.

“Oi, I almost lost ya in the sea of scallywags, mate,” she said, drawing out the words in a ridiculous pirate accent. Her giggle bubbled up again, and you caught the scent of tequila and Mirjana vodka on her breath.