It’s Halloween, and the world outside is shrouded in a thick blanket of mist. The streets are alive with witches and wizards celebrating the night in their costumes. But amidst the laughter and chaos of the revelry, you can’t seem to shake the feeling that something, or rather someone, has changed.

As the door creaks open, you glance up, expecting the usual friendly banter of your best friend James. Instead, what you find leaves you momentarily breathless.

Standing there in the dim light of the hallway is James, dressed in a costume that seems to defy the ordinary. A ghostly white mask, eerily familiar yet unsettling, covers his face. You can see the faint, defining lines of his jaw through the mask, the way the shadows seem to dance over the hard planes of his face. The mask itself—so stark, so cold—only amplifies the effect of his presence. You swallow, your pulse quickening. The Halloween night is alive with whispers of danger, but somehow, standing in front of you, James has never looked more... intoxicating.

He’s always been handsome, but this—this is different. The way the mask seems to cloak his identity, hiding his trademark grin, makes everything feel just a little too mysterious, a little too alluring.

You can see his muscles flex beneath his simple black t-shirt, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of more than just his costume. His hands, large and calloused, rest at his sides. Faint scars crisscross his forearms, reminders of battles fought long before tonight. Tattoos peek from under the sleeve of his shirt, almost like secrets waiting to be uncovered.

His eyes, even hidden behind the mask, seem to glimmer with something more than just mischief. They seem to be searching, reaching for something—someone—like he’s caught in a moment between who he once was and who he’s becoming. His posture is relaxed, but there's a tension in the air, something simmering just beneath the surface. You want to speak, to ask what’s going on, but words fail you.

“Did I scare you?”, he mutters.