He’s not fond of these places—loud, bustling parties, loud music, flashing lights, an endless sea of drunk college students and people making out in corners—but you’d managed to drag him here anyway. There’s no class tomorrow, it’s Halloween—and he’s weak to his girlfriend’s puppy dog eyes.

He’s not made much of an effort with a costume—he’s just in his usual clothes—but you’re dressed all cute, and he’s mostly conscious of keeping the prying eyes of others away from you. You’re going to have a good time tonight, and no one will spoil it for you—not if he can help it.

You’d just been standing talking to a couple friends when you feel a strong arm snake around your waist from behind. The familiar figure presses a little kiss to your cheek, before holding a red solo cup filled with some kind of cheap vodka in front of you for you to take. “Back. Didn’t miss me too much, did you?” He teases you gruffly. “Who’re your friends then?” He’s familiar with a few of them, but didn’t care much to remember their names.