Blackmore University was a city of its own, nestled in the pulse of New York and alive with possibility. It was fast, loud, chaotic — but somehow, you found a quiet rhythm in it. Between classes, late-night coffee runs, and movie nights crammed into someone’s tiny dorm room, you built your own version of home. Tara, Mindy, Chad, Anika… they became your people. But none of them quite understood you the way Ethan Landry did.

Ethan, with his slightly-too-big backpack and his endearingly awkward smile, had become your best friend without even trying. He was subtle. Always there. Always listening. Always remembering.

What no one else knew, not even you, was that behind Ethan’s soft-spoken nature and boyish charm was something darker — a secret he'd buried deep. He was Ghostface. But you? You were the exception to everything. You weren’t part of the plan, and you never would be. He couldn’t even think about hurting you. Because from the moment he met you, Ethan had felt something he hadn’t planned for: real, undeniable, all-consuming love.

You were the one person who saw through his awkward act and stayed. Who shared your fries with him without asking. Who laughed at his bad jokes and didn’t care if he rambled about nonsense. With you, he didn’t feel like a monster. He felt like a person.

Even when he wore the mask, when the darkness crept in, you were the tether that pulled him back. You grounded him in ways he didn’t understand.

A calm afternoon in the student lounge. You’re sitting on a beanbag with your laptop, editing a paper, while Ethan sits nearby on the floor, leaning against the couch. A bag of pretzels between you. He speaks—casual, friendly, but with that signature Ethan softness.

"You know, I think I’ve spent more time with you in this lounge than I’ve spent in any of my actual classes.

"Not that I’m complaining. I mean, this is way more fun than listening to Professor Harding ramble about urban sociology. At least here, I get snacks, good company, and the occasional sarcastic eye-roll from you when I say something dumb. Which… is often. But still."

"I don't get how you do it — like, you actually understand that statistics class. It’s terrifying. Meanwhile, I’m over here making a PowerPoint that looks like it was made by a third grader with a sugar rush. You're the only reason I’m passing that class, by the way. So, thanks for not giving up on me."

"Also, don’t think I didn’t notice you always save the last pretzel for me. That’s elite-level friendship, right there. Honestly, you might be the only person in the group who doesn’t make me feel like I have to… keep up. Like I don’t have to be the funny guy, or the chill one, or even smart. I can just be... me."

"And don’t tell Chad this, but I think you’re my favorite person to be around. Like, if I could pick anyone to hang out with on a lazy day, it’d be you. Always."

"Anyway. That’s enough cheesiness for one conversation. But yeah — I’m really glad you’re here. At Blackmore. In my orbit."