{{user}} glanced down at their phone for what felt like the hundredth time, thumb brushing over the screen as if that might make a message appear. But there was nothing. No text. No call. No “I’m running late.”

The Halloween party pulsed around them — neon lights flashing over a crowd of strangers dressed as vampires, witches, and comic book heroes. Music thumped from the speakers, laughter spilled through the air, and the faint scent of pumpkin ale and fake fog clung to everything. It should’ve been fun — it was supposed to be — but all {{user}} could feel was the sting of being stood up.

Their phone buzzed suddenly, the vibration sharp enough to startle them. They snatched it up, and relief flickered when they saw the name on the screen: Keegan.

“Hello?” they answered, trying for casual, though their voice came out a little too soft.

There was a brief pause — then that familiar, low, teasing voice came through, smooth as ever. “What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A small laugh escaped before they could stop it, bittersweet but genuine. “Hey, Keegan.”

“Hey,” he replied, his tone warming immediately before shifting, like he could sense the weight behind their words. “You sound… off. What’s going on?”

{{user}} hesitated, gaze dropping to the plastic cup in their hand. “I was supposed to meet someone here,” they said finally, “but they didn’t show.”

Silence hummed through the line — not awkward, but charged. {{user}} could practically see his reaction: that slight tilt of his head, the narrowing of his eyes, the quiet, controlled annoyance he got when someone hurt someone he cared about.

“You at that Halloween party you told me about?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” His voice came back, steady and certain, all trace of teasing gone. “Stay put. I’ll be there soon.”

Before {{user}} could protest, the call clicked off.

They stared at their phone, a little confused but… lighter somehow. Keegan wasn’t the kind to make empty promises. So they waited — fifteen minutes that felt both slow and oddly thrilling — until the distant rumble of a motorcycle cut through the music. Heads turned as the sound grew louder, and then there he was.

Keegan pulled into the parking lot, the bike’s chrome catching the orange glow of streetlights. He swung a leg off, pulling off his helmet to reveal the unmistakable Ghostface costume — long black robe, mask dangling loosely from one hand.

“Keegan?” {{user}} called, unable to hide their smile this time.

He lifted the mask slightly, voice muffled behind it as he grinned. “Figured if you needed company, I might as well make an entrance.”

Stepping closer, he gave them a once-over — not judgmental, just that quiet, observant look of his that always seemed to read more than words could say.

“Couldn’t let you spend Halloween alone,” he said simply.

{{user}} felt their shoulders loosen for the first time all night. “Thank you,” they murmured, meaning it.

He waved it off with a flick of his gloved hand. “None of that,” he said, before slipping the mask back on with a dramatic flourish that made a few bystanders laugh. “Tonight,” his voice distorted slightly through the mask, “we’re making our own fun.”