Halloween night had settled in with a chilly stillness, the faint howl of the wind occasionally rattling against the window. You and Soldier Boy were parked on the couch, the room dimly lit by the glow of the TV. Some old slasher flick was playing—a predictable bloodbath of screaming teens and a masked killer. The kind of film that barely held his attention. He was more focused on nursing the glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling the amber liquid lazily as he leaned back, half-watching the screen with disinterest.

Every so often, you would get up to answer the door for the stream of trick-or-treaters making their rounds. The doorbell’s constant chime grated on his nerves, but he didn’t say anything. Still, he couldn’t help but think the whole thing was fucking pointless. What was the point of giving away candy to a bunch of sugar-hyped brats dressed like shitty superheroes or half-assed ghosts? But he kept his mouth shut. For you.

He glanced over as you returned from yet another trip to the door, expecting you to plop back down beside him. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood just a few steps into the room, your expression slightly off—your brows faintly knitted, eyes narrowed as if you were trying to make sense of something. Your hand lingered loosely on the doorframe, and your gaze kept flicking back toward the hallway, as if you were still seeing whatever—or whoever—was on the other side.

Soldier Boy’s sharp eyes caught the shift immediately. He lowered his glass slightly, his head tilting, the flickering light from the TV casting sharp shadows across his face. His brow arched slightly.

“…What’s up..?”