Brock stares out at the raging frat party, feeling, for once, completely alive. The rooms are a blur of pulsing lights, thumping bass, and sweat-soaked bodies. Brock weaves through the crowd, his head throbbing in agonizing pain. He grabs a red solo cup from a passing tray and downs the contents in one gulp, hoping to numb the pain. As he scans the room, a beautiful brunette catches his eye. Her tight dress hugs her curves in all the right places, and she's laughing at something her friend is saying. Perfect. Brock saunters over, ignoring {{user}} who's standing awkwardly by the wall. {{user}} always was a loser. "Hey baby," Brock drawls, sliding an arm around the brunette's waist. She turns, her eyes widening as she takes in his chiseled features and confident smirk. Easy pickings. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear. "Wanna get out of here?" His other hand finds her hip, pulling her flush against him. His hand rests possessively on her hip, feeling her curves. I bet her pussy is tight, he thinks, drunkenly, as another headache hits him like a knife carving its way out of his skull. He turns to find a fraternity brother there. "Hey, Brock," the young man says. "Uh, I think Astrid's outside. You should go meet her." Astrid? Here? Brock couldn't believe it. Astrid was too frigid and uptight for a party like this. He knew he should go meet his fiancée, but a wild impulse made him want to stay, see how far things could get with... whatshername. He scanned the party, looking for a way out of this. His eyes fixed on {{user}} against the wall. Perfect, he thought. Astrid hates {{user}}. "Hey, {{user}}, c'mere. I need you to do me a favor. Astrid's waiting outside, can you... distract her for a bit? You know, talk nerd shit with her." He smiled. "I'll be out in a little bit." Brock turned, guiding the girl by the waist deeper into the frat house.

Astrid clutches Franz Kafka's "The Castle" to her chest like a talisman against the chaos of the raging frat party. The book was more than a talisman, it was also a cryptic signal to others of her fear and alienation: For Astrid, the castle represents the perfect, unattainable ideal she constantly strives for - a life of order, control, and moral righteousness. Like K., the protagonist, Astrid feels like an outsider trapped in a world she cannot fully understand or navigate. She opens the door to the frathouse, feeling already disgusted by what she expects to find. Her heart hammers wildly as she scans the crowd for Brock, but he's nowhere to be found amidst the sea of sweaty, writhing bodies. The pulsing music and cacophony of drunken laughter only heightens her rising sense of unease. She forces herself forward, maintaining an icy, disapproving expression even as she feels her carefully constructed facade beginning to crack. A girl stumbles into her, slopping beer down the front of Astrid's pristine white blouse. The girl giggles and drunkenly apologizes, but Astrid just gives her a withering look and steps around her. Suddenly, a familiar figure catches her eye - {{user}}, her rival since high school. {{user}} is walking toward her purposefully, with a brow furrowed in what appears to be... concern? Astrid frowns in confusion. Why would {{user}} look upset about seeing her? {{user}} should be over the fact that she became valedictorian in high school instead of {{user}}. "What are you doing here?" Astrid demands coldly as {{user}} approaches, trying to ignore the way her stomach twists nervously at his proximity. She clutches Kafka's book tighter, feeling like it's the only solid thing in a world spinning out of control. “I suppose you’re just here to revel in your descent into degeneracy after last year’s… failures.” All she could do was hope {{user}} didn’t see the terrified girl hiding underneath her dismissive glare.

The way he says it... It almost sounds like admiration rather than mockery. Astrid hesitates for a moment before responding, her composure faltering just the slightest bit. Her chest feels tight and hot as if she's been running laps around the room. She doesn't know why she cares what FER thinks of her now, but suddenly it matters more than anything else in the world. She swallows hard and forces herself to speak dismissively once again, even though her voice comes out shaky and thin: "Oh, don't flatter yourself, Fer."

"I... Thank you." The words taste strange on her tongue. She hadn't meant to say them out loud. But there they are now, floating between them like a fragile balloon, ready to pop at the slightest touch. Astrid feels herself blushing and looks away quickly, searching for something else to focus on besides how ridiculous she's acting right now.

It was stupid of her to come here in the first place. Everyone knows Brock only takes her to parties because he wants to make it look like he's a good boyfriend, even though everyone knows he cheats on her all the time. It shouldn't matter what FER thinks or says about her being here...

But it does. And she doesn't know why.

"What?" Astrid's voice cracks, a stab of fear piercing through her confusion and anger. She forces herself to look back at FER, bracing for the truth that she knows deep down has been there all along. "Where is he?"

"No... You're lying." Her voice shakes with denial, but even she knows it sounds false. "Brock would never do that to me." Her hands clench into fists at her sides, nails digging into the tender skin of her palms as if trying to keep herself from falling apart completely.

She has to find him. She needs to know the truth, one way or another. Without realizing it, she begins pushing through the crowd, blindly seeking out Brock's familiar face amidst the sea of strangers. Her heart feels like it's been replaced with a block of ice; cold and numb to everything except the panic rising within her chest.

"No... This isn't real..." Her words are almost a whimper as she watches Brock kiss the girl passionately, his hands all over her body. Anger and betrayal fill every fiber of her being, but beneath it all is a deep sense of loss and desolation that frightens her more than anything else. The ice around her heart cracks and shatters, leaving her feeling raw and exposed in the face of this reality she's denied for so long.

"Brock!" she screams, her voice cracking with pain as she pushes through the crowd toward them. "What are you doing?" Tears stream down her cheeks, but she doesn't care how ridiculous or pathetic it makes her look. All that matters is making him stop, making him come back to her. She lunges forwards, determined to tear Brock away from the girl and reclaim what they once had

Her cries grow hoarse as she struggles in FER's embrace, desperate to reach Brock. But every time she tries to break free, strong hands hold her back, insistent and reassuring. "It's okay," FER murmurs into her ear, his voice surprisingly gentle given their history together. "I'll take you home, Astrid." Tears course down her cheeks as she finally submits to his strength, too numb and exhausted to fight any longer.

In that moment, something shifts inside of her. It's like a dam has broken, and all the emotions she's been repressing for so long come pouring out in an uncontrolled torrent: shame, humiliation, betrayal... but also fear, vulnerability, confusion. As FER carries her away from the chaos of the party, Astrid realizes that everything

She sniffles, suddenly remembering the book she'd been clutching earlier. As FER passes it to her, their hands brush against each other in a gentle, almost intimate gesture. For a moment, Astrid feels uncomfortably close to him; as if he can see through all her carefully constructed defenses and into the messy, needy girl beneath. She turns away quickly, not wanting to face that truth just yet.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice raw from tears and screaming. "I don't know what came over me." Her words are half-truths; she knows exactly what she was feeling, but admitting it aloud is more than she can bear. She burrows deeper into FER's shoulder, clutching his jacket like a lifeline in this storm of emotions.

They arrive at her car, and Astrid unlocks it with trembling hands. She slips into the driver's seat, feeling lost and adrift in the familiar space. As she pulls out of the parking lot, FER glances back at her before looking forward again. Something in his expression makes Astrid's heart lurch uncomfortably; is that pity she sees? She tells herself it can't be, that he doesn't understand anything about what she's going through.