The thumping bass of the nightclub vibrated through the walls as Ryan pushed through the crowded dance floor, his tall frame cutting a path between couples and groups of people. He was dressed in a black leather jacket, the kind that screamed confidence, paired with dark jeans and boots. His sandy blonde hair was tousled just enough to look effortlessly cool, and his sharp blue eyes surveyed the room with an intensity that kept most people at a distance. His friends—loud, boisterous, and all equally wild—followed in his wake, egging each other on for another round of drinks. Ryan was the leader of this crew, the one they looked to when they needed someone to start a fight, make an entrance, or make the night unforgettable. But for all the bravado, there was a certain restlessness in his gaze tonight, something that went unnoticed by most but was clear to anyone who knew him well enough.

As the night wore on, Ryan leaned against the bar, a drink in hand, watching the chaos unfold. His friends were already darting around, engaging in one of their usual antics—dancing, shouting, and generally being the loudest people in the room. But Ryan’s mind wasn’t fully in the moment. His eyes lingered on a group across the bar, a few familiar faces from class. A girl—someone he had seen around campus a few times but never really spoken to—caught his eye. She smiled briefly, and for a split second, Ryan felt an unfamiliar tug in his chest, something he hadn't let himself feel in a long time. He swallowed the thought, smirking to himself. He wasn't the kind of guy who got distracted by people, not when there was a crowd to dominate, but for some reason, she was different.

Ryan’s friend, Mark, slapped him on the back, pulling him out of his thoughts. “Yo, Ryan, you look like you’re in another world. Everything good?” Ryan flashed him a grin, masking whatever was going on beneath the surface. “Yeah, man. Just taking it all in.” He turned away from the bar, watching as the crowd shifted around him. The loud music, the flashing lights, the laughter—it was all so easy to get lost in. But deep down, Ryan wasn’t just some party guy. He didn’t care for the shallow attention he got from people, the endless string of meaningless hookups. He didn’t show it, but sometimes he wondered what life would be like if he could just let go of the walls he’d built around himself. For now, though, he would play the part, keep up the image, and keep his friends entertained. After all, it wasn’t about looking tough—it was about staying untouchable.
@BimboTheClown

Clover stood with her friends while they pounded shot after shot, being the only "sober" one. It was always her job to watch after her friends and make sure they didn't go home with some random man, their drinks stayed untouched when unsupervised and to get them home and tucked in. She tugged at the neon pink bodycon dress she wore, pulling It down as far as it could go. She was uncomfortable in dresses and heels, having been raised by her father she was more of a tomboy. "Guys how much longer are we planning on being here?" she shouted to her group, to which only one of them even acknowledged her, only giving a shrug in response. You've got to be kidding me. She thought to herself, frustrated that she doesn't keep better company but she loves these girls with all her heart.

She needed fresh air. Clover pushed her way through crowds of people, eventually shoving her way to the back door. She stepped out and took a deep breath of the cold night air. Looking up at the cloud-covered moon she could smell the rain coming. She always loved the rain. Clover gently tucked some of her ink-black hair behind one of her ears and she leaned up against the dumpster, her eyes trained on the smoke rising from her still-lit smoke. With a long draw off the joint and a loud, hearty cough she sighed and ran her free hand down her face, trying to prepare herself to enter the building again. She was tired. Exhausted. All she wanted to do was return to her dorm and curl up in bed.

Terrissa, Clover's mom, had passed when she was very young. Unfortunately, she was a victim of a kidnapping and it was the cause of her untimely demise. It was a topic that often haunted Clover's thoughts, the memories of her father sobbing at night, the crime scene photos she wasn't supposed to see, the funeral. It was something that she was never fully able to get over. Clover began to experience what she believed to be hallucinations after the passing of her mother. It was mostly at night, so she tried to not go outside alone. Even if it was just in her head it spooked her.

Her eyes wandered over to the treeline across the road, she thought she saw movement? She stood there just staring because she was unsure of what she saw. It was deer season after all..

Ryan pushed through the door of the club, stepping out into the cold night air, the loud music and bright lights already fading behind him. The quiet felt almost surreal after the chaos inside. He leaned against the wall for a moment, his breath visible in the crisp air, trying to shake off the restless feeling that had been nagging him all night. He wasn't usually the type to seek solitude, but something about the night felt off. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing around. That’s when he saw her.

She was leaning against the dumpster, a cigarette dangling from her fingers, her gaze distant as she stared into the night. He recognized her now—Clover, from campus. She looked out of place here, like she was waiting for something—or maybe running from it. Ryan hesitated, watching her for a moment. There was something about the way she held herself, like she wasn’t quite a part of the world around her. His curiosity got the better of him, and he took a few slow steps toward her, unsure of what exactly had drawn him out here. He stopped a few feet away, his voice low and calm. “You okay?”

"What?" She jumped, snapping back into reality and turning to face him. Clover looked him up and down and raised an eyebrow. "Im fantastic thanks for asking. Yourself?" She was softly shaking, cold and startled. Another puff. She broke into a small coughing fit with a smile and put out her cigarette. While she recognized the person in front of her she was at a lack for where she had seen him or when they had met. Her eyes trailed back to the trees, narrowing as she tried to focus in on where she had seen the movement, looking for more.

"Have we met before? I know it sounds rude I'm just really bad with faces and names" Clover admitted, not bothering to look over at him. She was fighting disassociation to stay in the moment and have a conversation. She began to count in her head, over and over again keeping time. One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two She began to tap out the rhythm on the dumpster, mouthing the words of the numbers.

Ryan watched her for a moment, noting the way she seemed completely detached from the world around her. Her gaze flickered over the treeline, her body stiff and her hands tapping out a rhythm against the dumpster as if it was the only thing grounding her. There was a quiet intensity to her, a kind of struggle she wasn’t hiding very well. Her breathing was shallow, her focus distant. It reminded him of how he sometimes felt, like his mind was a hundred miles away from his body, but he’d never shown it the way she did. He took a step closer, his voice softer this time. "You sure you're okay? You don’t look like you’re all here."

His gaze followed hers to the trees, the shadowed edge of the woods, but the darkness swallowed whatever might’ve been there. Ryan's eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. Something felt off about the moment—like a quiet tension hanging in the air. He shifted his weight, stepping a little closer without thinking. "What’s over there?" His voice was low, but there was a hint of something sharp beneath it. Whatever had caught her attention, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t just the wind playing tricks.