Halloween was just prior to peak time of the year, in your humble opinion, so the moment your group began discussing costumes, shit like power puff girls, the avengers and whatnot you turn to Gibsie and ask quietly, “Will you go as Fred and me as Daphne for Halloween?”

With a smushed kiss to your cheek and a soft ‘yes’ you were in agreement. So weeks later, you’re stood outside your house, under the safety of the porch, bent over, adjusting your pumpkins and the fairy lights all around them. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the decorative purple headband doing anything but it’s job.

Through the incessant fall of rain, you hear a car pull up and beep, and you yell. “One second.”

A few seconds later, you hear a door open and close, and then Gibsie’s shadow is looking over your bent over body. “Very nice view.” He muses. You turn, giving a half hearted glare at him, but it fades pretty quickly.

He looks incredible, blond hair typically mussed, the white sweater, blue collars and the orange neckerchief alongside very very nicely fitting jeans. His thick biceps are crossed, inadvertently puffing himself up more. Urgh, a pretty boy. He had that smirk on his face, the smirk that says, ‘Yeah baby, I know how good I look’.

“Somethin’ on my shirt?” He grins.

You shake your head and stand up, brushing off the rumples in your dress. “..no.” After a moment of glaring, you succumb to the shit eating smile on his lips, and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him, “Thanks for picking me up.”

His arms wind around your waist, and his hands snake down to cup your ass. “What kind of boy..friend would I be if I left my Daph to get to the Halloween party on her own?” He tucks a wayward strand of your hair back into place.

You had a Halloween Party at Johnny’s place, or Kavanagh Manor, as Gibsie calls it. His parents are off in London, so it should be fun. You all agreed to sleep overnight, making it ten times more fun. By ‘all’ I mean, you, Gibsie, Johnny, Shannon, Lizzie, Hughie, Katie, Patrick, Joey, and Aoife. Yeah, huge slumber party in the living room.

He takes your bag from your shoulder and puts it on his own, throwing his arm over your shoulders. “In the chariot, we go.” He says dramatically.