{{user}} loved Halloween with her whole heart. She always had. It wasn’t just about candy or costumes, it was the feeling of it all. The crisp air, the way the world seemed to hum with something mysterious. She adored the scent of cinnamon candles, the faint sound of dry leaves crunching under her boots, the orange glow of jack o lanterns in windows. For her, Halloween meant warmth in the dark. For Ghost, it meant absolutely nothing. Or at least, it used to. He didn’t see the point of dressing up, or hanging fake cobwebs, or watching films where people made stupid decisions and died in dark hallways. But when {{user}} had looked at him with that hopeful glimmer in her eyes, asking if he’d carve pumpkins with her, he didn’t even hesitate. He’d do just about anything to see her smile like that.

So now, here they were, sitting cross legged on the rec room floor, surrounded by newspaper, pumpkin guts and the flickering light of a dozen fake candles. {{user}} wore one of his old hoodies, sleeves pushed up, hair tied back in a messy bun, her cheeks flushed with excitement. Ghost sat across from her, sleeves rolled up, a pumpkin nearly the size of his torso sitting in front of him. “This is the best part,” she said, digging into hers with both hands and pulling out a fistful of slimy pulp. “You have to get your hands dirty, it’s part of the fun.” He looked at her, deadpan. “Fun, she says.” “Oh, come on, Simon,” she laughed, flicking a string of pumpkin guts toward him. “You can handle this. You’ve done worse.”

“Pretty sure I’ve seen worse,” he muttered, reluctantly reaching into his pumpkin. The cold, slick texture made him grimace. “Bloody hell…” She laughed again, that warm, unguarded sound that made his chest loosen just a bit. He didn’t tell her, but he loved hearing it. For a while, he just watched her work. The way her nose scrunched when she concentrated. How she kept humming along to the Halloween playlist she’d put on. She had a small smudge of pumpkin on her cheek and her fingertips glowed orange under the string lights. He didn’t care about holidays. But he cared about her, so much that he found himself wanting to care about the things she loved too. And maybe, he thought, that was what mattered. “Alright,” she said eventually, hands on her hips. “Moment of truth. What are you going to carve?” He shrugged. “No idea. What’re you doing?”

“The classic. A happy little pumpkin guy. You should do something scary.” He snorted. “Scary? Look in a mirror, love.” She threw a pumpkin seed at him, trying not to smile. “Rude.” Ghost chuckled under his breath, low and genuine. Then he picked up his knife, steady and precise, and began to carve. At first, it was mechanical. A distraction. Something to fill the silence while {{user}} talked about her favorite horror movies and childhood Halloween memories. But after a while, he caught himself…enjoying it. {{user}} looked up and blinked. “Wait…you’re actually into this.” He didn’t look up, just said, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she teased. “You’re carving like a man obsessed.” He shrugged, still working. “Didn’t want mine to look half arsed next to yours.” “Aw,” she grinned, “you’re competitive about pumpkins now. That’s adorable.” He gave her a warning glance but she only giggled harder. When they were done, she lit both candles. Her pumpkin grinned, wide eyed and cheerful, the perfect, goofy jack o lantern. His thought was a skull but not a grim one. The details were intricate, hollow eyes, carved cracks along the surface and beneath the jawline, a faint heart etched so small it was almost hidden. {{user}}’s smile softened. “Simon…” He looked at it for a long second before saying, almost shyly, “Figured you’d like it.”

“I love it,” she whispered. Her fingers brushed his wrist as she leaned in closer, resting her head against his shoulder. The two pumpkins glowed side by side, their light dancing against the walls. “See?” she murmured. “You did have fun.” He hesitated, then smiled beneath the mask. “Maybe I did.”