[center][i]Before the crack. Before the shift, before anyone looked down, Cornell is quiet. Not peaceful — just paused. Something lies beneath it. 

Not sleeping.

[b]Waiting.[/b][/i]
[hr]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/hG8D4i2.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/RWr0Xdd.png[/img]
[b][code]September 7th. Labor Day. 10:02 PM. The day of the tear.[/code][/b][hr][/center]

“... Try not to be in your head the whole time for once?”

Elsa grins, bumping Kari’s shoulder, teasing her like she’s pulling her out of a book she isn’t even holding.

Kari exhales through her nose, pretending to be offended, while she rolls her eyes.

[color=#eac6ae]“I’m always present.”[/color]

“Uh-huh,” Elsa responds. “Sure you are.”

Gravel crunches under their shoes as they step off the cracked road toward [url=https://i.imgur.com/92Xu65r.jpeg]the warehouse.[/url] The old rail lines run beside them like exposed bones, half-swallowed by weeds and dirt. Ahead, the brick building stands heavy and square against the night sky, its windows glowing warm gold under the moon. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eznORo9Ix0I]Music[/url] spills out in all directions, bass thick enough to feel in the ribs. Laughter rises and breaks like waves against concrete.

Kari adjusts the strap of her crossbody bag and touches the woven bracelet on her wrist absentmindedly. She tells herself this is normal - just a[i] party.[/i] Just noise. Just high school pretending to be invincible. As they approach, the building seems alive. A single light hums faintly over the steel door, moths circling in frantic loops.

Someone stumbles out laughing, and heat hits them - sweat, perfume, cheap liquor, summer air charged with adrenaline.

Inside, the warehouse[i] transforms.[/i]

Extension cords snake across the floor, powering mismatched lights that flash red and violet against brick walls layered with graffiti. A speaker stack rattles near a column wrapped in caution tape. Someone is hyping up a dance circle from a folding table. The bass vibrates through exposed beams and into bone.

Elsa grabs Kari’s hand and pulls her into the crowd.

Bodies everywhere - motion, noise, energy. Kari slips into it carefully, dodging elbows, sidestepping spilled drinks, smiling automatically at familiar faces. She reads them instinctively who’s nervous, who’s trying too hard, who’s pretending they don’t care.

Threads hum faintly in her awareness — excitement, relief, the desperate need for something beyond school. Beyond tension. Beyond whispers no one wants to name.

[color=E14BC5]“...Kari, mami!”[/color]

The voice cuts clean through the bass — bright, sharp, impossible to ignore.

[color=E14BC5]“[b][i]¡Por fin![/i][/b] You showed up!”[/color]

Lupe Sánchez is half-standing on a folding chair near the makeshift bar, with one sneaker on the seat and the other on the table, striking a mid–victory pose. She raises a red plastic cup dramatically in one hand, with a neon-pink bandana tied around her wrist.

She looks vibrant even without trying — her curls bounce, her grin is wide and reckless, and her eyes sparkle as if she swallowed the strobe lights. A few people are already laughing at her theatrics. Someone attempts to steady the chair, but she completely ignores them.

[color=E14BC5]"I want to make this a night to [b][i]fuckin'[/i][/b] remember!"[/color] Lupe shouts, [color=E14BC5]"Because I make every night a night to remember!"[/color]

Cheers erupt around her.

She hops down without missing a beat — lands light, balanced, already moving to the rhythm like the bass is wired into her spine. Her body finds the tempo instinctively, shoulders rolling once, hips shifting, energy coiling and snapping loose in perfect sync with the song.

Then she spots Kari properly.

Her grin shifts, softer for half a second. Real.

[color=E14BC5]“And there she is,”[/color] Lupe says, pushing through the crowd with effortless confidence, [color=E14BC5]“Thought you were gonna ghost us and go journal about the vibes or something.”[/color]

Elsa snorts beside Kari, bumping her with her elbow. “See? It’s not just me.” Who merely rolls her eyes again.

Lupe reaches them and hooks an arm loosely around Kari’s shoulders, warm and buzzing with movement.

[color=E14BC5]“You’re late,”[/color] she declares, mock stern — then immediately breaks into a laugh. [color=E14BC5]“But I forgive you, mami. I’m in a generous mood.”[/color]

Her eyes gleam — mischief, challenge, something sharper buried deep where no one looks too long.

[color=E14BC5]“C’mon,”[/color] she says, already tugging Kari toward the dance circle. [color=E14BC5]“Before someone plays a sad song and ruins the vibe, y'know!”[/color]

The crowd around them grows larger. 

Someone shouts Lupe’s name. Someone else tries to drag her toward the speakers. The bass tempo shifts, and she reacts instantly, weight adjusting, grin widening like she’s daring the night to keep up.

For a moment, it feels like the room is bending around her.

[i]Orbit correcting.[/i]

And Kari realizes there’s no slipping through unnoticed now.

The circle parts.

The music builds.

And Lupe is already moving.