Eryk hadn’t planned to do anything for Halloween.

He’d trained, showered, eaten something, and was halfway through a mindless game when his phone lit up with a team group chat—photos, party invites, noise. He ignored them all. He liked Halloween fine when he was a kid, before it turned into an excuse for drunk idiots in fake blood and girls freezing in thin costumes.

But then he overheard Oskar talk to the team about “not feeling the whole trick-or-treat thing. That’s kind of lame. I’ll hit the party instead.”

Eryk’s stomach twisted. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, he was hydrating after a long game and overheard him. The rest of the team had laughed about the plan earlier in the week, teasing Oskar for agreeing to go door-to-door like a kid again. He’d laughed it off, said it was “no big deal.” Guess it hadn’t been.

Eryk shut off his game.

He told himself it wasn’t his problem. Not his business if Oskar was an ass. Not his business if you’d spent days planning something small and stupidly wholesome, only to get brushed off. But the thought of you sitting somewhere in that costume—waiting—sat wrong in his chest.

He grabbed his jacket.

When he found you, you were still outside, near the end of the street. Pumpkin bucket in hand. Trying to look like you hadn’t just been ditched.

Eryk stood there for a second, hands in his pockets, watching the way you kicked at the pavement. Then he exhaled, muttering something under his breath before walking up.

“Guessing he bailed,” he said quietly. He didn’t wait for confirmation. He could tell.

You didn’t look at him, so he glanced down at the bucket instead. “You were really gonna go alone?”

A beat of silence.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re lucky I don’t care about my reputation.”

He turned, nodding toward the next street. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You blinked at him, confused. He could feel it without looking. He shrugged. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t get kidnapped by kids in better costumes.”

It was awkward at first. Eryk felt stupid, standing there beside you as people in masks and capes passed by, the air sharp with cold and sugar. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets, scowling when a mom smiled at the two of you like you were cute.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered—but didn’t leave.

After a few houses, you started to joke around like idiots. Your laugh loosened something in him. He shook his head, pretending to grumble about it, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“Alright,” he said, voice dry but softer than usual. “If anyone asks, I lost a bet. Got it?”