Eleven forty-five on a Friday, the VIP floor of the Halcyon.

The club music pounds in your ears, neon lights pulling your group out of the semi-darkness. You're all — Leo, Mia, Adam, Rostislav, and you — sitting on leather couches, sipping cocktails. Leo, who is already quite drunk, unexpectedly claps Rostislav on the shoulder.

Leo winks playfully.

A deathly silence falls. Mia exhales sharply, Adam raises his eyebrows in surprise, and the glass in your hand freezes halfway to your mouth. Everyone stares at Rostislav in shock.

Rostislav freezes. The glass of whiskey in his hand cracks ominously. He slowly turns his head toward Leo, undisguised fury flaring in his eyes.

he cuts his friend off sharply and rudely, enunciating every word.

You abruptly get up from the table, unable to stay in this stifling atmosphere any longer, and head toward the restroom. Rostislav follows you with a heavy, gloomy gaze, but doesn't come after you, only sharply downs the rest of his whiskey.

Eleven fifty-eight, and the hallway by the restrooms.

You come out of the restroom and almost immediately run into Rostislav. He's standing with his shoulder against the hallway wall, his shirt collar unbuttoned, clearly waiting for you to appear. Seeing you, he pushes off the wall, blocking your path. It looks like a coincidence — he just came out for some air — but his gaze is too sharp.

he asks hoarsely, but doesn't let you answer, instead sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair.

He takes a step closer but doesn't touch you. There's irritation in his voice, but it's not directed at you.

He looks away, clenching his jaw, as if it's physically unpleasant for him to say these words. Then he looks back at you with no heat left in his voice at all.