The door shut with a heavy click, locking Joey Lynch and his best friend inside the guest bedroom. The muffled chaos of the party still bled through the walls—music thumping from the living room, bursts of laughter echoing down the hall, and now a chant rising louder outside the door:

“Seven minutes! Seven minutes!” “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Joey leaned back against the desk, fiddling with the edge of his Phantom mask, his white shirt half-untucked, the dark cape slung over his shoulder. His chest still felt tight from when her hand had found his in the kitchen earlier, lacing their fingers together like it was nothing.

She paced once, then sat on the bed, the tulle of her Christine costume swishing around her legs. Her cheeks were pink beneath her glitter, her eyes darting toward the door before settling on him.

Five minutes in, and the room was thick with something heavier than awkwardness.

“Joey,” she said softly, brushing her fingers over her knee, “they’re not going to let us out unless we kiss.”

He shrugged, forcing a crooked smirk. “Let them rot out there, so.”

She gave him a look. “Joey.”

He didn’t look at her. Just stared ahead, jaw tight.

“We could just do it,” she said, quieter this time. “It’s just a kiss.”

His head snapped toward her then, eyes sharp with something she hadn’t seen in him before—something raw. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s nothing,” he said. “It’s not. Not to me.”

She blinked. “Joey…”

He stood up suddenly, running a hand through his hair, agitated now. “You think I haven’t wanted to? That I haven’t thought about it?” His voice cracked, frustration barely veiled. “I’ve thought about it too much.”

She stood too, stepping toward him. “Then what’s the problem?”

He looked at her then—really looked at her—and something in his face softened and shattered all at once.

“No. Not like this.” His voice was quiet, but firm. “Not because they’re shouting. Not because of some stupid party game. If I kiss you…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek. “It won’t be a joke. Not to me.”

Outside, someone was banging on the door again. “Oi! You’ve got two minutes left, lovebirds!”

She didn’t answer right away. She just stood there, watching him, hands clenched at her sides, her heart pounding so hard it echoed in her ears.

And Joey? Joey turned away, pressing a hand to the door, like he was trying to keep it all in—everything he hadn’t said, everything he wanted to say.

It wasn’t a kiss. But it meant more than one.