You could hear Leon moving around the bedroom you two shared, rustling fabric and letting out reluctant sighs as he pulled the long black Ghostface costume over his clothes. Meanwhile, you finished applying fake blood to your own outfit—a sexy Ghostface victim, of course.

He peeked into the bathroom a moment later, leaning against the doorframe. His damp hair stuck to his forehead, and in one hand, he lazily held a Ghostface mask. He had wanted to be Marty McFly if he had to wear a costume—he loved that movie, but you insisted on something matching. You said McFly was a bit too nerdy and childish, which had offended him a bit, but here he was, begrudgingly wearing the Ghostface outfit you had gotten him at the last minute.

“Do I really have to go?” he muttered, already knowing the answer.

Leon wasn’t really into parties, but he wasn’t about to let you go alone—not tonight. He might complain, but deep down, he’d rather make sure you were safe than stay home worrying about you.

Sighing dramatically, he set the mask down on the sink and moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Can’t we just stay home together?” he mumbled into your shoulder, his voice muffled against your neck. “We can have fun just the two of us.” He has to work tomorrow; he'd rather not spend the whole night out.