It’s 2 a.m., and the room is dark, save for the faint glow of the moon creeping through the window. Ghost lays flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, the weight of exhaustion settling deep into his bones after a long day. Sleep should’ve come easy. It was late, the mission had been brutal, and all he wanted was a few hours of peace.

But peace wasn’t an option tonight.

Just as he was starting to drift off, he hears it—a quiet mumble at first, barely audible. He tenses, hoping it’s just his imagination. But then, it gets louder.

“This is Halloween, this is Halloween…”

Ghost’s eyes snap open.

“Pumpkins scream in the dead of night…”

You’re singing. Again. In the middle of the night. In August. Fucking August.

He turns his head toward you, glaring through the dark. You’re lying in the bed across from him, completely oblivious to the fact that it’s 2 a.m., humming the infamous song from The Nightmare Before Christmas like it’s no big deal. Like you’re not ruining his already miserable attempt at getting some damn sleep.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ghost mutters under his breath, sitting up slightly. “What the hell are you doing, {{user}}?”

But you just keep going, fully committed now. “This is Halloween, this is Halloween…”

He groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “It’s the middle of bloody August. What’s wrong with you?” He sounds more exasperated than angry, though it’s clear his patience is running thin. “Stop singing about pumpkins before I throw you out the window.”

You stop for a moment, considering your next move, but the urge to finish the song is too strong.

Ghost sighs, falling back onto his pillow. “Just… go to sleep, will you? You can sing about Halloween in October, not bloody now.” His voice is a low growl, but you can hear the faintest hint of a smile, though he’d never admit it.