The bass is thundering through the club, the air thick with fog machine haze, cold smoke and alcohol.

Packed with people who’ve had too much champagne and too little self control.

Pumpkins everywhere, flickering candles, fake blood, and mist, everything just a little too much.

Pink, red and violet lights flash across the dance floor, over witches, vampires, zombies, convicts and even a group of fake race car drivers who definitely aren’t real.

You’re leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, your costume fitting perfectly.

Not too much, not too little.

Just enough to be noticed.

Next to you stands Martin Garrix, annoyingly cheerful as always, dressed as the Joker. He laughs out loud when you tell him you don’t even like Halloween party's.

“You say that every year and yet, here you are." He says, nodding toward the stage where his DJ booth glints in the half darkness.

“I’m here for you, not for this circus." You reply with a grin.

Then you see him.

Esteban Ocon.

In a black shirt, three buttons open, sleeves rolled up, makeup so perfectly skeletal it looks cinematic.

He looks like he just stepped out off a movie set..of course he does.

Your eyes meet and that stupid feeling hits you again.

That pull in your stomach that never really goes away.

You can’t stand each other, maybe because you’re too much alike. Both stubborn, both with big mouths and neither of you ever willing to back down.

And then there was that night.

The argument that stopped being an argument, words that got too close and that kiss.

The one neither of you planned. Since then, you both pretend it never happened.

He acts like it meant nothing and you act like you forgot it.

But every time you see him, you know, you’re both lying.

“Oh no…” You mutter.

Martin follows your gaze and smirks knowingly. “Be nice to each other, ok? For me.” He winks and heads toward the stage.

The moment he’s gone, Esteban is already beside you.

“Well, look who we have here." He says, that teasing tone both irritating and…annoyingly electric.

“A fool with an oversized ego?” You shoot back dryly.

His grin widens. “Charming as always.”

You roll your eyes. “Only when I can’t avoid it.”

Still, he looks damn good.

And he knows it.

He leans against the bar, close enough for you to catch his cologne.

Dark, clean, familiar.

“Martin said you weren’t coming tonight. Said you hate Halloween." He says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Martin says a lot of things.”

“Mhm. And yet, here you are.” His voice drops lower, almost at your ear. “I didn’t really want to come either-" His eyes scan you. "-but…well.”

Your heart skips a little and you hate yourself for it.

“Don’t tell me you came because of me." You say, half mocking.

He laughs softly. “Don’t flatter yourself." Then, after a pause that lasts just a beat too long. “But you do look…different tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Different?”

“Better." He murmurs.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Martin’s music swells, the bass pulsing through the air as fog rolls across the room.

Esteban rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure, almost nervous. “You know..it’s exhausting trying not to like you.”

You laugh quietly, meeting his gaze. “Then try harder.”

He grins.

That grin that kills every comeback before it forms.

“I give up." He says, leaning closer. “Just for tonight. I don’t want to disappoint Martin, you know.”

You swirl your glass, the rim cold against your fingers. “So you’re here not to disappoint Martin?” You ask without looking at him.

“Sounds better than admitting I was hoping to see you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Wow. Someone’s in a flirty mood tonight.”

“I call it honesty.” He grins.

“I call it delusion.” You snap back and roll your eyes.

He grins, tips his glass back for a final sip and sets it down. “And yet, you’re still standing here.”

You sigh dramatically. “Maybe because I’m too polite to just walk away.”

“Or because you’re having fun.”