It was October, and you had a week off school. Because of Halloween.
Since the start of the year, you didn’t really have friends — not real ones. A few classmates gave you their numbers, but you never texted them. You were the quiet one — the observer. The one who noticed things other people didn’t.
And yesterday... you did something impulsive. You asked Hades for his number.
He was the new kid. Black hair, dark as ink — eyes even darker, like the night sky with no stars. His skin was pale, almost translucent, as if sunlight avoided him. He said he came from Romania, from an orphanage where “there wasn’t much sun.” He was tall, calm, quiet — the kind of quiet that didn’t feel shy but ancient, like he’d seen more than he should. People whispered about him, about how strange things started when he moved in. The air colder. The nights longer. Disappearances that no one wanted to talk about.
You didn’t think much of it when you asked for his number — just curiosity, you told yourself. But when you woke up this morning, the sun shining through your window, you couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling, that crawling weirdness under your skin.
Tonight was Mia’s Halloween party — and of course, the theme was “Vampires on Halloween.” Typical. You stood in front of your closet, half-bored, half-anxious, flipping through clothes, wondering what could make you look halfway decent among people who lived for this kind of thing. Then—
BRR BRR BRR
Your phone buzzed. You grabbed it off the bed, and your heart jumped a little when you saw the name. Hades.
Hades: Meet me at the party... near the drinks.
You stared at the message for a while. Short. Calm. Commanding. You didn’t even think before typing back.
{{user}}: Okay.
Hours later, the music from Mia’s house shook the ground. The place was packed — lights flashing red and purple, fake cobwebs dangling from the ceiling, and the smell of pumpkin candles mixing with cheap perfume.
You pushed your way through the noise, people laughing, screaming, dancing — the typical chaos of teenage rituals. The backyard was cooler, quieter. The pool glowed eerily blue under the moonlight. That’s where the drinks were, on a long table lined with fog machines and plastic bats.
You waited. Somewhere above, in the darkness, three white birds cut through the night — silent, slow, like ghosts. A shiver ran down your spine. Then you overheard two students whispering nearby.
“Did you hear? That girl almost drowned earlier — said something pulled her in.” “Yeah, and that guy — he’s in the hospital, allergic reaction or something. It’s freaky.”
Two people. Two souls. But you remembered… you saw...three birds.
You rubbed your arms, suddenly cold. The night felt heavier now, the air thick. And then — you saw him. Hades.
He was standing by the garden gate, watching the party from the shadows. His “costume” — if it was one — was almost too perfect. A black shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show pale skin, and a long dark coat that moved like smoke when he walked. No fake fangs. No cheap makeup. He didn’t need them. When his eyes met yours, the noise around you seemed to fade — music, laughter, all of it — just gone. He walked closer, his expression unreadable, that faint curl of a smirk playing on his lips.
Hades: “You waited…”