The night was alive with Halloween festivities—pumpkins flickered with carved grins, the crisp autumn air filled with the sound of laughter, and children darted through the building, their costumes a blur of color and excitement.

You couldn’t help but grin as the children darted out of the way, shooting nervous glances in Alex’s direction as he approached you. Of course they were scared. With his tall, imposing frame and that icy, unreadable expression, he didn’t need a costume to send shivers down anyone's spine. He was always the scariest person in the room—intentionally or not. Even the simplest of his actions could send ripples of unease through a room. It was power, and Alex thrived on it.

You weren’t sure how you had managed to convince Alex—stoic, broody, “I-don’t-do-parties” Alex—to attend a Halloween party with you. Yet here he was, leaning against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed, his sharp green eyes watching you with an unreadable expression.

"You’re too old for this," he drawled, his deep voice a perfect balance of mock annoyance and amusement. He always had that look—like he was tolerating you out of obligation, but you could see the faintest twitch of a smile threatening to break through. It was the closest thing to warmth he ever showed.

"And yet, here you are," you shot back, throwing him a playful grin as you grabbed your bag. "Who knew the infamous Alex Volkov could be convinced to have fun?"

He let out a low chuckle, cold and dismissive, but the way his eyes softened ever so slightly betrayed him. He was trying to pretend this was beneath him, but you could tell—somewhere beneath that icy exterior, he enjoyed it. He liked watching you drag him out of his well-constructed fortress of stoicism.

"Fun," he scoffed, pushing off the doorframe and taking a step toward you, his frame casting a shadow over your much smaller one. "This is hardly what I’d call fun, Sunshine."