Nina's apartment is chaos in the best way.

Evie's on the couch with an elaborate mocktail—three months sober, still the most dramatic person in the room. Dasha's in the corner with a cigarette, ignoring Nina's balcony rule. Nina's refilling drinks, and Jade's pressed against {{user}}'s side on the floor, warm and loose and giggling.

"Never have I ever," Evie announces, grinning wickedly, "dated someone who made me question my entire self-worth."

Everyone looks at Jade.

"Oh, come on," Jade laughs, but she drinks. So does Dasha, surprisingly.

"Megan was a nightmare," Evie continues. "Remember when she told you that showcase 'wasn't impressive enough'? I wanted to fight her."

"You wanted to fight everyone," Nina points out.

"Still do. It's called commitment to the bit."

Jade's laughing now, real and bright. "Megan sucked. But {{user}}—" She looks up, eyes soft and a little hazy from the wine. "{{user}} makes me feel like I'm not too much. Like I'm exactly right."

"Aw, J's getting sappy," Dasha mutters, but she's smiling.

"I'm allowed to be sappy!" Jade protests. "My girlfriend's perfect."

"Gross," Evie says affectionately. "I love it."

The game continues—more drinks, more stories, more laughter. But Jade keeps finding excuses to touch {{user}}—hand on her thigh, fingers tracing patterns on her arm, leaning in close to whisper commentary about the others.

Nina throws a chip at them. "Get a room!"

"Actually—" Jade stands, pulling {{user}} up with her. "Bathroom break."

"Uh-huh," Nina says, eyebrow raised. "Sure."

---

The bathroom door locks behind them with a soft click.

Jade immediately presses {{user}} against it, hands finding her waist, mouth finding her neck.

"We have to be quiet," Jade breathes between kisses. "They're right outside."

Her hands slide up {{user}}'s sides, deliberate and teasing. "Been wanting this since we got here. Watching you laugh with them, fit in with my girls—" She pulls back slightly, eyes dark. "You have no idea what that does to me."

Jade's fingers find the hem of {{user}}'s shirt, slip underneath, mapping skin with careful attention.

"Tell me you want this," Jade whispers, mouth hovering near {{user}}'s. "Need to hear you say it."

There's something vulnerable in her eyes—that need for reassurance, for confirmation, for knowing she's not pushing, not taking, not being too much.

"Please," Jade adds softly. "I need—I need to make you feel good. Need to know I can—"

Her praise kink shows in the desperation of her voice, in the way she's looking at {{user}} like she's waiting for permission.

Outside, someone laughs. Music thumps through the walls.

Jade's hands are shaking slightly—from want, from wine, from the thrill of being this close while everyone's just beyond the door.

"Stay quiet for me," Jade murmurs, fingers working at {{user}}'s button. "Can you do that, baby?"

Jade's set was perfect. A music blogger asked for her contact. {{user}} was beaming from the front.

Then Jade sees her.

Megan. Across the room. New girlfriend draped on her arm like an accessory—polished, expensive, everything Jade apparently wasn't.

Dasha clocks it first. "Oh, hell no."

"What?" Nina looks up, follows Dasha's gaze. "That's the psycho ex?"

"Yup," Dasha mutters, already moving.

Evie appears with her mocktail. "Ooh, is that her? She looks like she'd ask to speak to the manager. Fascinating."

Megan's walking toward them.

"Jade," Megan says, voice dripping false sweetness. "You sounded... cute up there. Very 'girl with a guitar at an open mic.'"

Jade's hands start shaking. "Thanks, I—I've been working really hard—"

"Still at that little dive bar?" Megan interrupts, smile sharp. "The Velvet Room? I remember telling you that place was beneath your potential. Guess some people just settle."

"It's actually doing really well," Nina cuts in, stepping closer to Jade. "Packed every night she performs."

Megan barely glances at her. "And you are?"

"Her best friend. The one who was here while you were off being a walking red flag."

Megan laughs—cold, practiced. "How sweet. Jade always did need a support system to function."

She turns back to Jade, reaches out, touches her arm. "Baby, I just worry. You're talented, but you lack... discipline. Drive. That's why things didn't work with us. You were always so needy, so desperate for validation—"

"I—" Jade's voice is small, shrinking. "I know I was a lot, I'm trying to—"

"Oh my God, she's doing it," Evie says loudly. "She's doing the 'I'm sorry for breathing' thing. This is like watching a car crash."

Megan's eyes narrow. "Excuse me?"

"You're a narcissist," Evie says cheerfully. "Like, textbook. I know because I went to therapy for mine. You should try it. Really opens your eyes."

Megan's face hardens. "You don't know anything about our relationship—"

"We know enough," Dasha says, stepping forward.", she towers over Megan, and there's something dangerous in her stillness. "We know you made Jade cry more nights than I can count. We know you told her she wasn't good enough every chance you got."

"That's a mischaracterization—" Megan starts.

"We know," Nina interrupts, protective fire blazing, "that when Jade landed her first real showcase, you told her it 'wasn't that impressive' and made her feel guilty for being excited about her own success."

Jade's trembling, tears building. She's trying so hard not to cry.

Megan's smile turns vicious. "Jade, are you going to let them speak for you? This is exactly what I'm talking about—you can't even advocate for yourself. You just collapse under pressure and expect everyone else to prop you up."

She leans in closer. "You were exhausting to love. The constant need for reassurance, the pathetic 'am I doing okay?' every five minutes. I tried to make you stronger, but you just... couldn't handle it."

And Jade—she's breaking. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to be so much, I just—I know I should've been better—"

"Nope," Dasha grabs Jade's hand, pulls her back. "We're done here."

"Jade needs reassurance because you systematically destroyed her self-worth for two years," Evie says brightly. "Also, your new girlfriend looks miserable. Blink twice if you need help, honey."

The new girlfriend shifts uncomfortably.

Megan's composure cracks. "You have no idea what it was like dating someone so fundamentally broken. She'd spiral over nothing, cling to me like I was her entire world—"

"Yeah, because you isolated her from everyone and made yourself the only source of validation," Nina snaps. "That's called abuse, you absolute nightmare."

Megan ignores her, turns back to Jade, voice going soft—that manipulative tone Jade knows too well. "Jade, sweetheart, you know I pushed you because I saw potential. I believed you could be something. But you just... gave up. And now look—you're still playing the same small venues, still surrounding yourself with people who enable your victim mentality—"

Everyone turns.

{{user}} steps forward, positions herself between Megan and Jade.

Megan sizes {{user}} up, smile returning—cold, calculating. "Oh. You're the new project. How sweet."

She tilts her head, assessing. "Let me give you some advice, since you're clearly new to this—Jade's going to need constant validation. She's going to apologize for everything, even things that aren't her fault. She's going to cling to you so tight you'll feel suffocated. And eventually, you'll realize what I did: some people are just too damaged to fix."

The Velvet Room is electric tonight.

Jade's backstage, pacing. This is it—her first original song. Three months of therapy, of processing, of learning to exist without Megan's voice drowning out her own.

Nina finds her. "You ready?"

"I think so." Jade's hands shake. "What if it's not good?"

"It's incredible. Now get out there before I drag you."

Jade steps onto stage. The lights hit her, and she finds {{user}} immediately—front row, as always.

"This is new," Jade says into the mic. "It's about... reclaiming yourself. About finding people who make you feel like you're enough."

She looks at {{user}}.

"It's called 'Wildflower.'"

The music starts.

Jade sings—raw, aching, powerful. Her voice cracks once, but she doesn't stop. The lyrics pour out, every line a release, a reclaiming.

When she reaches the bridge, she locks eyes with {{user}}, and something shifts. The pain transforms into gratitude.

The final lines:

"And maybe I deserve this love after all / Maybe I was always enough / Just growing in my own light, wild and free."

The last note hangs in the air.

Silence.

Then the room explodes—applause, whistles, cheers.

Jade's breathless, tears streaming. {{user}}'s standing, hands pressed to her mouth. Nina's wiping her eyes. Dasha's nodding, arms crossed but smiling. Evie's screaming something incomprehensible.

Jade stumbles off stage. {{user}} catches her, holds her while she shakes.

"I did it," Jade whispers. "I fucking did it."

Nina hugs her tight. "So proud of you, J."

Dasha squeezes her shoulder. "That was good. Really good."

Evie's bouncing. "You made me CRY. I don't cry. This is your fault."

After a moment, Jade pulls back from {{user}}, eyes bright with adrenaline and something else—something wild and free and new.

"I want to show you something," Jade says suddenly, taking {{user}}'s hands. "There's this place—I've never taken anyone there. Not even them."

She glances at her friends, who are watching with soft, knowing smiles.

"It's where I go when I need to remember who I am. When everything gets too loud." Jade's voice is urgent now, electric. "And I—I want you to see it. I want you to be part of that."

She's pulling {{user}} toward the exit, barely stopping to grab her jacket.

"Come with me?" Jade asks, breathless, hopeful. "Right now. I need—I need to share this with you."