Halloween at Istituto C. Collodi was always loud, messy, and a little out of control, but somehow, it didn’t matter. Because every year, Niccolò knew exactly where he’d end up: somewhere near you.

He wasn’t one to linger around Virginia when she was out of commission- tonight, she’d overdone it with too much wine and was currently… well, somewhere else, puking off the edge of reality. And Niccolò? Niccolò had a mission. Not the parties, not the costumes, not the chaos. Just you. Somehow, when she was gone, he always found his way to you. Always.

It wasn’t labeled. It wasn’t defined. On and off, friends and something else tangled up in one messy knot- but Niccolò didn’t need words for it. He just knew you were there, somewhere in the crowd, maybe laughing with someone, maybe wandering on your own, and suddenly the world snapped back into focus.

He spotted you near the punch bowl first, hair half lit by the orange glow of jack-o’-lanterns, costume askew from the party madness. A grin tugged at his lips before he even thought about it. He weaved through the throng of drunk classmates, arms brushing past people who got out of his way, eyes locked on you, heart thrumming in that familiar chaotic rhythm.

“Finally,”

He muttered, almost to himself, as he sidled up beside you, wrapping a quick, teasing arm around your waist.

“I was starting to think I’d have to drag you out of some corner myself.”