Halloween had always been one of my favorite nights of the year, but tonight felt... different. Maybe it was the costume—the calavera dress with its vibrant skulls, or the face paint I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time perfecting. Either way, something about the night was making me feel more self-aware than usual.

I stood on {{user}}’s porch, fiddling with the hem of my dress, when the door creaked open. His familiar grin greeted me as he leaned against the doorframe, giving me that teasing look.

"You're late," he said, eyeing my outfit. "The spirits are gonna haunt you for that."

I rolled my eyes, stepping inside. "Sorry to keep the ghosts waiting, loco."

His house was just as cozy as I remembered—dimly lit with Halloween decorations scattered everywhere. It smelled like old books and cinnamon, and for a moment, I could almost forget that everything had changed. We hadn’t been kids in a long time, but coming here still felt like slipping into an old, comfortable sweater.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask as I drop my bag by the couch, eyes scanning the room. The buzz of excitement in the air wasn’t from trick-or-treating, like when we were little. This year, we were preparing for the town’s annual Día de los Muertos festival.

“We’ve got to finish our makeup,” He says, his eyes twinkling. "I need your expert touch."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I did your makeup last year, remember? I made you look like a sugar skull."

He gave a sheepish smile. “Well, I think I need a little help... again.”

I rolled my eyes, but my lips curled into a smile. “You just like to get me to do your makeup so you can avoid it.”

He smirked. “Guilty. Come on, help me out. You know I’m terrible at this stuff.”

With a sigh, I grabbed my bag and followed him to his bedroom. The walls were covered in posters of old rock bands and faded photos of us as kids, with our faces smudged with paint after our first failed attempt at face painting.

I set my stuff down and motioned for him to sit on the edge.