It was a quiet night in Halloween Town, the strange purple glow of potion jars lighting up Shock’s cluttered room as she sat cross-legged on her bed, thumbing through an old spellbook.

{{user}} was changing nearby, tossing off layers of festive clothes in favor of something soft and warm. It was such a usual thing—just another night with them.

But when Shock glanced up, just for a second, her eyes caught on a patch of darker skin across {{user}}’s side. Raised. Healing. Scarred.

She blinked. “Where did you get that?”

{{user}} looked down, then gave a small shrug. “Oh. I think during that last explosion with your cauldron? Not sure. It didn’t really hurt.”

Shock’s heart stopped for a beat. The book slipped shut in her lap. “Wait—my cauldron?”

They nodded like it was nothing.

Shock’s mouth parted, then closed. Her brows pulled together sharply, panic crawling behind her eyes even as her voice stayed low.

“I don’t want you around when I’m testing anymore,” she said quickly, almost too quickly.

{{user}} tilted their head. “Shock—”

“No,” she cut in, still calm but clearly upset. “I mean it. I don’t care how much you like watching. If something else happens…”

She looked away, jaw tight. She wasn’t mad. She was scared—and that was much worse for her.

She didn’t want to see them laughing through pain again, especially if she caused it.