Anton had been your friend for years, the type who always made late-night plans feel easy and safe. Every Halloween, he’d go all out on costumes, but this time he’d asked you for help. He wanted something more creative—something that looked professionally painted. You agreed without thinking twice.

Now he sat in front of you, elbows resting on his knees, the faint smell of pumpkin candles and cinnamon filling the room. His hair was pushed back, a streak of fake blood on his cheek that you hadn’t blended yet. You leaned in closer, brush trembling slightly between your fingers as you tried to trace along the curve of his jaw.

“Hold still.” You said, voice low as you tried to steady your hand.

He didn’t move, but you felt his breath catch. The space between you shrank until you could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. When you shifted to get a better angle, his hand instinctively caught your waist, steadying you. The motion surprised you, sending a small jolt through your chest.

Without meaning to, your balance slipped, and you landed softly against him, the brush still in your hand. His laugh was quiet, more like a breath than sound. “Guess that works too.” He murmured.