The jack-o’-lantern outside his window flickered weakly, casting a soft orange glow across the peeling walls and ragged posters in Lock’s room. The whole place smelled faintly of smoke, wax, and iron—comforting in the weirdest way.

Lock was flopped across his squeaky bedframe, chin resting on his crossed arms, tail lazily swinging off the side while {{user}} stood near the cracked mirror, slipping into his oversized red jacket.

They tugged it closed lazily, but the fabric shifted as they moved, and Lock’s eyes narrowed.

There—just above their waistband—were three jagged scratches, healed but pink.

He sat up straight, the old mattress creaking.

“Wait…” he said, voice stiff with something unspoken. “When did I do that?”

{{user}} blinked and looked down. They gave a soft chuckle, brushing a hand over the marks.

“Oh. You had a nightmare a couple nights ago, remember? You didn’t wake up. I think it happened in your sleep.” They offered that same warm smile—the one that melted all the walls he’d ever built. “It’s fine, Lock. Really.”

But Lock wasn’t smiling.

His tail had stopped mid-sway and now curled tightly around his leg like it was trying to hide. His ears flattened against his blue-streaked hair, and his jaw clenched.

He didn’t speak right away.

The candles on the dresser flickered, casting uneven shadows across his sharp features, but the sharpness had dulled. He suddenly looked like a kid again—one with blood on his hands and no clue how it got there.

“I… hurt you?” he whispered, like the words physically hurt to say.

“You didn’t mean to,” {{user}} said gently. But he wasn’t hearing it.

Lock’s eyes dropped to the floor, and his voice went lower, smaller—like it was trying to fold in on itself.

“Do you… wanna start sleeping in separate beds?” he asked. “I get it. I just— I don’t wanna mess up again. Not with you.”

His fingers dug into the blanket. His tail gave one twitch, then stilled.

He still wouldn’t look at them.

Because this was Halloween Town, and Lock could handle monsters, ghosts, and fire. But the idea that he might hurt the one person who made him feel alive? That terrified him more than anything else ever had.