It was Halloween, and Papa’s Paleteria had truly decked out in its galore.

Standing at the register was Red; a tall, slim ginger with big brown eyes, a bubble butt, and a tight red shirt with Papa’s logo on it. A few workers ran around in the kitchen behind him making customer’s orders.

The bell rang, signaling an entering customer, and he straightened up.

Not because he wanted to impress every customer that came in, no. He didn’t need to impress, he knew how good he was.

But Jojo was another story.

“I’d like a Raspberry, Vanilla, Blueberry. Watermelon and sour spray on top of that, please.” The man announced, standing a foot taller than Red, and giving him a look.” Don’t go get them.” He stopped Red before he could tell another worker.” I want you to make mine.”

This wasnt the first time Jojo had done this.

He’d say it was trash, like always. And a few days later, they’d be found making out in the diner, the taste of ice cream on their lips. It was a cycle that neither one of them wanted to break.