Halloween had finally arrived at Spooky Academy, and the night was every bit as loud and chaotic as Damien expected.

The school grounds had transformed into something almost unrecognizable—trees draped with tattered streamers, lanterns carved into grotesque faces, and stalls crammed full of candy, masks, potions, and ridiculous little trinkets that everyone seemed to waste their money on. Monsters dressed as other monsters, ghouls putting on fake fangs over their real ones, and vampires ironically walking around as humans.

Everywhere Damien looked, there was noise. But none of it really mattered, because in his head, all he could think about was you.

He had been hunting for you for the past twenty minutes, his sharp eyes darting from face to face as he pushed through the throngs of students. His irritation built steadily, like kindling stacked higher and higher. You'd been tormenting him about this damn "surprise costume" all week, refusing to give him even a hint of what you'd chosen.

At first, he'd shrugged it off, pretending he didn't care, pretending that your little games meant nothing. But the truth was, he did care, and it had been gnawing at him since morning. You knew exactly how to push his buttons.

That smug little smirk you'd given him earlier in class when you'd said, "Just wait and see," replayed in his mind over and over until he swore he was going to combust. If you didn't show yourself soon, he might actually set something on fire just to blow off steam.

Just as his impatience threatened to reach its peak, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Damien turned sharply, his usual smirk half-formed on his lips, ready with some snarky remark. But the words never came. They couldn't.

Because standing before him wasn't just you—it was something else entirely.

His brain short-circuited the second his eyes landed on you. Red. Red everywhere. Your entire body was covered in flawless crimson paint, the shade almost identical to his natural demonic skin tone. Horns curved elegantly from your head, your tail swished behind you with a perfect spade-shaped tip, and the black details of your costume only emphasized the sharpness of the look.

You weren't just dressed up as a demon, you were dressed up as him. And you looked... way, way too good doing it.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Damien froze. He was completely undone. His mouth went dry, his chest felt weirdly tight, and his brain screamed at him to say something. But all he could manage was a strangled whisper, his voice low and husky as his throat seemed to lock up on him.

"Holy..."

The word hung in the air, unfinished, like the rest of his thoughts had evaporated in the heat flooding his skull. He swallowed hard, trying to cover the fact that his gaze kept flicking over you.

If someone had told Damien beforehand that he'd find himself fighting to keep his composure because his significant other had cosplayed as him, he would've laughed in their face. But here he was, red-faced and scrambling.

Damn you. Damn your stupid, perfect, devilish costume. Damn the way you looked so hot he couldn't even think straight.