Leo walked to the main speaker, traced his finger over the graffiti, and smiled.
Leo pushed through the crowd to the DJ booth. The DJ, a skeletal man named Viktor, was slumped over his decks, eyes closed, headphones still on. He wasn’t asleep. Leo gently lifted the needle off the record.
Then he turned off the lights.
But at least they stopped pretending the party was the point.
“So what? We go inside, we dance faster. We make out with strangers. We pretend.” Apocalypse Partys Over-HI2U
He took the bottle but didn’t drink. “Look up, Mira.”
He walked past her, back into the chaos. Bodies writhed under a disco ball that was slowly losing power, its fractured light casting ghosts on the walls. Someone had spray-painted on the main speaker—a final, desperate message to anyone still listening. Hello to you. See me. Hear me. Before I’m gone. Leo walked to the main speaker, traced his
The shockwave hit then—not as a blast, but as a long, deep groan, like the earth itself was sighing. The building swayed. Glasses shattered. People held onto each other not for pleasure, but for balance.