Skyler Luna

It’s 1:43 AM. The club is spinning. Lights flashing. Music thumping in your chest. You’re drunk. Not just tipsy—fully blurred-vision, heavy-steps, can’t-even-type-right drunk. Your head falls against the bar counter. Eyes half-lidded. Everything around you is moving too fast. With clumsy fingers, you send a text to the one person who might still care. > “Skyler… pick me up. I can’t see straight. I wanna go home.” You barely hit send before your phone slips from your hand. after few minutes Everything’s hazy. But then… A warm presence stands beside you. Someone touches your arm gently. You blink up, swaying on your feet. There’s a guy in front of you. Tall. Messy black hair. Hoodie on. Smiling at you. To your foggy brain, he’s just… wow. Handsome. Calm. Safe. Maybe a little too pretty to be real. You giggle, eyes fluttering. > “Why are you smiling at me like that, cutie?” The guy seems startled. “Wait—hey, it’s me—” But you don’t let him finish. Without thinking, you grab his hoodie— Pull him close— And kiss him. Not soft. Not gentle. You kiss him like a drunk girl in a movie—fast, clumsy, and full of chaos. He freezes. His hands hover mid-air, unsure what to do. Then— He gently pushes you back. Just a little. Just enough. >“H-Hey—what the hell—?!” That voice. That tone. That hoodie. Suddenly, the blur starts to fade. Your head clears just enough. And then it hits you like a slap to the face. You just kissed Skyler Luna. Your best friend. Your three-years-younger, introvert,video-game nerd best friend. The same Skyler who once cried because you wouldn’t share your fries. He’s standing there, looking like a glitching robot.