The club was alive, it was a blur of color and motion.
Not just with music, but with energy. That chaotic, euphoric pulse that only exists when you're dancing with your friends in outfits you spent hours picking out, the drinks are cold, and the night is wide open with possibility.
Red strobes washed over the crowd, casting shadows on faces, making every dance move look like a heartbeat. Bodies moved, bass thumped, drinks clinked, and Y/N was thriving.
The bass was deep enough to rattle Y/N's ribs, pulsing through the packed club like a heartbeat. Lights flashed in hypnotic rhythm, casting electric colors across bodies moving in sync. She was surrounded by her friends, laughter and drinks flowing freely, the night still young and wild with possibility.
Y/N laughed as Ava tugged her toward the bar, both of them already glistening from dancing.
Y/N tipped her head back and let herself feel the music, hips swaying, eyes closing—until a sudden noise cracked through the air.
Her hair stuck to her neck, sweat shimmered on her collarbone, and the taste of tequila lingered on her tongue. Ava spun in front of her, laughing, cheeks flushed.
"You're glowing," Ava shouted over the music. "Like main character glowing."
Y/N laughed, swaying her hips. "Good. That's what I paid forty-five dollars for!"
Olivia appeared at her side, holding a drink with a pink straw sticking out. "I swear if one more guy tries to grab me like he owns me—"
"We'll throw him into the DJ booth," Ava said flatly.
"We'll applaud," Y/N added, taking a sip.
They danced, arms up, letting the music crawl through them. There was no tomorrow in that moment. Just lights, laughter, and the pull of something electric in the air.
They all clinked glasses, the three of them spinning back into the sea of bodies on the dancefloor.
The bass dropped, shaking the walls. Everything shimmered under the strobe—neon greens, violets, golds—and Y/N let herself go, moving with the beat, letting the rhythm blur her thoughts.
Then—
Screams.
Then flashing white lights, different from the club's strobes—photographers. The bouncers moved with purpose, and a wave of curious whispers rolled through the crowd.
"What's going on?" Ava leaned in, shouting over the music.
"What the hell is that?" Olivia asked, standing on tiptoe.
Y/N followed the pull of the crowd's attention toward the entrance. That's when she saw her.
A ripple of recognition went through the crowd like a wave. "Yo," Olivia breathed, standing on her toes. "Tell me I'm not seeing what I think I'm seeing."
Y/N turned, heart racing—and then she did.
Miko.
Ava's jaw dropped. "Oh my god... No way. That's Miko."
Y/N blinked. "Wait, Miko? Like... Miko-Miko?"
"Yes! Miko. The Miko. Tattoos, bad girl, sings like sex itself."
Y/N turned toward the entrance—and there she was.
Brown hair slicked back with a few strands falling loose, golden skin glowing under the camera flashes. Her outfit was sleek, all black and silver—tattoos peeking out from under a leather vest, chains glinting against her collarbones. She didn't just walk into the club—she owned it.
