Party

The hallway buzzes with the usual chatter — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, the low hum of students catching up between classes.

I walk past, earbuds tucked in but music paused.

That’s when I catch it.

A group of girls gathered near the lockers, voices low but sharp.

“…Did you hear? Zander’s throwing that party tonight. The big one. Like, everyone is going.”

“Yeah, I heard it’s going to be insane. No teachers allowed, obviously.”

“And apparently, he’s bringing a DJ. Heard he’s got some connections.”

One girl giggles. “I bet it’s going to be total chaos. Maybe somebody will finally put him in his place.”

Another snorts. “Good luck with that. Zander’s got the whole school wrapped around his finger.”

I keep walking, heart tightening in my chest.

The party.

Zander.

And me, somewhere on the sidelines again.

I shove my hands deep in my pockets and quicken my pace.

Because sometimes, the biggest shows come with the loudest lies.

The front door creaks softly as I slip inside, the cool air of the house wrapping around me like a thin, fragile shield.

The distant thump of bass from Zander’s upcoming party still echoes faintly in my mind, but inside these walls, the noise quiets down — replaced by a stillness that feels almost foreign.

I drop my bag by the stairs and head toward the living room, where I expect to find Mom or Dad buried in their usual distractions, maybe glued to the TV or scrolling on their phones.

But instead, the soft glow of the hallway light reveals someone else.

There, curled up on the worn couch, is my younger sister, Lily.

She’s sixteen — caught in that strange middle ground between childhood and whatever comes next. Her legs are tucked under her, and she’s hunched over a sketchbook, pencil darting across the page with a kind of fierce focus I’ve only seen when she’s determined to escape reality.

I watch her for a moment, the way the shadows fall across her face, softening the sharp edges of her growing worries.

“Hey,” I say quietly, not wanting to startle her.

Lily looks up, eyes widening a little before a small smile curls her lips.

“Hey, Y/N.”

It’s not often we get moments like this — quiet, unguarded.

I sit down on the armrest, careful not to crowd her space. “How was school?”

She shrugs, flipping the page and revealing a messy, beautiful drawing of a city skyline, half-finished but bursting with energy.

“Same. Lots of drama. You know.”

I nod, understanding more than I let on. High school isn’t exactly a sanctuary — especially not when your brother’s name gets dragged through every hallway.

“You heard about the party, huh?” she asks, eyes flicking toward the staircase, where I’m sure Zander’s room lies in wait, filled with the kind of chaos we both try to avoid.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Seems like the whole school’s buzzing.”

Lily’s fingers tighten around her pencil, and for a moment, I think she’s about to say something else. But then she just shakes her head.

“I’m glad I’m not invited.”

I laugh softly. “Me too.”

She looks up at me, a little uncertain. “Y/N… do you ever wish things were different? Like, our family? School? Everything?”

I pause, the question hanging heavy between us.

“Yeah,” I admit. “More than you know.”

Lily’s eyes search mine, her younger face suddenly serious. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m invisible. Like no one really sees me except when it’s convenient.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand. “You’re not invisible to me.”

She smiles again, a real one this time — the kind that doesn’t try to hide anything.

For a while, we just sit there, the quiet between us filling up with a kind of understanding that words can’t reach.

And maybe, for the first time in a long time, it feels like I’m not carrying this alone.

the time the first car pulls up outside, the whole house feels different.

It starts with the music — low at first, like a heartbeat building under the floorboards. Then the voices. Laughter. The unmistakable scrape of heels on tile. Doors opening and closing. The bass climbs higher, pounding through the walls like it’s trying to shake me loose.

I peek out my bedroom window and see them: clusters of students in tight clothes and fake confidence, slipping through the front door like this is the event of the month. Maybe the year.

Zander’s in full host mode somewhere downstairs, no doubt wearing that fake-smile, golden-boy face that gets him away with everything. The kind of charm people confuse with sincerity.

I roll my eyes, close the curtain, and turn my back to the window.

It’s not my scene. It never has been.

I push the door shut behind me — not locked, just… closed.

The music is still there, bleeding through the floor, but my room feels like a completely different planet.

Safe.

Familiar.

Mine.

I toss my phone onto the bed and sit down beside it, reaching for my guitar. The amp’s already plugged in, quietly humming like it missed me.

Outside this room, people are clinking drinks and shouting over each other.

Inside? Just me, my strings, and the soft whir of my fan.

I rest the guitar on my lap and strum a few low chords — slow, steady, something half-formed and waiting. It’s not a song yet. Just a feeling.

Annoyance. Jealousy. Loneliness.

It all mixes into something sharp and honest, something I can hear even if I can’t say it.

I don’t need red cups or strobe lights to feel alive.

I’ve got distortion, lyrics that hit like a punch, and a head full of noise that actually means something.

The door shakes briefly from bass vibrations, but I don’t flinch.

Let Zander party. Let him impress every girl in that living room.

I’ve got everything I need right here.

The door creaked open without warning.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“What the—!” I spun around, clutching my guitar like a shield. “Ever heard of knocking?”

Framed in the soft hallway glow, his silhouette leaned casually against the doorframe. Long hair tied back, a couple earrings catching the light, that smug curve already lifting the corner of his mouth.

Eren Yeager.

Of course.

“Relax,” he drawled, unfazed. “Thought this was the bathroom.”

“Most bathrooms don’t have guitars and fairy lights.”

He didn’t move. Just scanned the room, slow and amused. “Yeah, well, with how drunk everyone is down there, I figured anything was possible.”

Then, eyes gleaming, he raised an eyebrow. “Wait. You weren’t… y’know… mid-moment, were you?”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You looked… intense when I opened the door. Head down. Breathing heavy. Little flushed.” He grinned wickedly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your—”

The pillow hit him square in the face before he could finish the sentence.

“Get out,” I snapped, another pillow already in hand for backup.

He laughed — actually laughed — holding up his hands like I was about to launch a grenade. “Okay, okay! Kidding! Chill!”

“You are unbelievable.”

“Thanks,” he said, entirely too proud. “Most people take at least three parties before realizing that.”

I crossed my arms. “So what, you just wander into girls’ rooms and accuse them of—of whatever that was?”

“Only the ones who glare like they’ve been in a punk band since birth,” he said smoothly, stepping inside anyway. “Also, you dropped something earlier.”

I raised a brow. “What, a shred of my patience?”

“No.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed now too, mirroring me. “Your composure. At the café. When you mistook salt for sugar and killed your tea in front of half the student body?”

My glare deepened. “You saw that?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with zero shame. “You tried to play it off, but I saw the rage in your soul.”

I groaned and flopped backward onto my bed. “I should’ve transferred.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t record it,” he added, casually walking around the room like he wasn’t completely uninvited. “Would’ve gone viral.”

“Why are you still here?”

Eren tilted his head, eyes meeting mine with a strange flicker of something that wasn’t teasing.

“Because you’re the only person in this house who doesn’t seem fake,” he said simply. “Figured I’d see what your deal is.”

My stomach did something stupid.

I sat back up slowly, narrowing my eyes. “And? What’s my ‘deal’?”

He smirked. “Still figuring it out.”

I narrowed my eyes, voice sharp.“Look, this is my room. You’re not invited. So—”

“Wait, wait,” Eren interrupted, raising his hands like he was defusing a bomb. “Before you toss me out, let me ask something.”

I folded my arms, impatient. “Make it quick.”

He leaned casually against the wall again, smirking. “Are you and Zander… siblings?”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Yeah. Why?”

He shrugged, eyes glinting with amusement. “Makes sense. Because every guy in our friend group? Zander’s made it very clear you’re off limits.”

My cheeks flushed, but I kept my cool. “Good for him.”

Eren’s grin widened, almost smug. “Yeah. Which means you’re pretty important to him.”

I wanted to say ‘So what?’ but the words stuck.

“Still doesn’t mean you get to camp out in my room.”

He laughed softly, stepping closer, eyes bright with a kind of challenge. “You’re really going to make me leave?”

I stood up, ready to throw the nearest pillow again. “Yes.”

But he just shrugged, settling down on the edge of my bed like he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Fine,” he said with a lazy smile. “I’ll stay. But only because I want to figure out what makes Y/N tick.”

I groaned, grabbing my guitar again. “You’re impossible.”

Eren’s grin was pure mischief. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Eren leaned back on the bed, arms stretched behind his head like he owned the place. His smirk was all kinds of infuriating.

“You know,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief, “it’s kinda unfortunate I couldn’t bang you.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. Heard the rumors. You and Zack.”

I rolled my eyes, the familiar sting of irritation bubbling up. “Rumors. That’s all they are.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, voice dripping with playful disbelief. “But you’ve got to admit, it’s juicy gossip.”

I sighed, leaning back against the headboard, guitar resting on my lap. “Honestly, it’s exhausting. People always twisting things — making you out to be something you’re not.”

Eren nodded, suddenly less cocky, more serious. “I get that. It’s like everyone’s got a front-row seat to your life, whether you want them to or not.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the rare vulnerability beneath his usual bravado.

“Yeah,” I admitted softly. “And it’s worse when the rumors mix up feelings — like, who actually cares about you versus who’s just talking.”

He smirked again, but this time it was gentler. “Sounds like you’re better at handling it than most.”

I gave him a tired smile. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just good at pretending.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Right back at you.”

For a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by a quiet understanding — the kind that doesn’t need words.

Then Eren grinned. “But seriously, next time, I’m calling dibs before the rumors start.”

I rolled my eyes again but couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped.

“Dream on.”

Eren stretched, standing up with a casual grin.“Well, I’ll leave you to your world of rumors and guitar strings.”He gave a mock salute. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help feeling oddly relieved as the door clicked shut behind him.

Silence settled back in.

I sank onto my bed, fingers automatically reaching for my phone.

The screen lit up with a new message.

Isaac:Hey, you awake? Need to talk. Might be drunk.

I groaned, already knowing this was going to be one of those nights.

But… maybe it was exactly what I needed.

I typed back quickly:Yeah, what’s up?

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

Isaac:It’s a mess. Emory and I—things got complicated tonight. I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.

I stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Part of me wanted to tell him to figure it out himself. Another part knew he needed someone to listen — even if it was just me.

I sighed and typed:Want to talk about it?

His reply was almost immediate.

Isaac:Yeah. Maybe. But it’s easier if I’m honest. I like her. A lot. But she’s… distant. And I think I’m losing her.

My heart twisted in a way I wasn’t ready to admit.

I bit my lip and texted back:People can be complicated. Maybe you just need to give her space. Or maybe you need to decide what you want.

Isaac’s reply was quieter, less frantic.

Isaac:Yeah. Guess I’ve got some thinking to do.

I set my phone down and leaned back against the headboard.

Music, rumors, parties — everything felt tangled up tonight.

But maybe, just maybe, things could still get clearer.