The "lamb skewer" costume was a logistical nightmare.

Lucien had spent a good hour scrolling through DIY ideas before realizing he couldn't find a metal rod long enough to stab through his torso convincingly. With a sigh of defeat, he settled for the safest, most basic option in the book: a vampire. It was classic, reliable, and practically impossible to screw up.

Since it was his first Halloween in the States, the novelty got the better of him. He went into a late-night online shopping spiral, ordering fake fangs, dramatic eyeliner, red contact lenses that he couldn't actually figure out how to put in, and an unnecessarily expensive black-and-red cape that looked way cooler in the product photos than it did on his bedroom floor.

By the time Halloween week arrived, the city had completely transformed. Houses were draped in orange string lights, skeletons dangled from porches, and carved pumpkins sat like glowing sentinels on every stoop. Lucien and his roommate—whom he often just called Jamie or "Honey"—had finished their own pumpkin project. They even tried making homemade pumpkin pastries, though half of them came out looking like tragic, orange-tinted rocks.

Lucien wrapped a few of the non-lethal ones anyway. He'd give some to Jamie, and maybe save a couple for Leon.

Leon had invited him to dinner on Halloween night. Not a party, not a group hang—just the two of them. The realization hit Lucien at random intervals throughout the day, sending a weird, restless flutter through his chest. Would a high-end restaurant even let a vampire through the door?.

By late afternoon, the transformation began. Unfortunately, Lucien's understanding of makeup was non-existent. Within ten minutes, he'd managed to smear eyeliner onto his eyebrow and nearly blinded himself with setting spray.

Jamie eventually reached the limit of his patience, grabbed Lucien by the shoulders, and physically dragged him toward the bathroom mirror.

"Move," Jamie said, sounding exhausted. "You're committing literal crimes against cosmetics."

Lucien sat obediently while his roommate worked with the frantic energy of someone trying to save a doomed art project. "You have ridiculous skin," Jamie muttered, brushing powder over Lucien's cheekbones. "Honestly, it makes me want to kiss you a little".

Lucien's eyes snapped open in horror. "Don't."

Jamie burst out laughing. "I'm joking! Relax".

The end result was actually impressive. The eyeliner was darker and sharper than Lucien expected, making his eyes look huge and glossy under the dim dorm lights. Jamie added a deep red lip tint that made Lucien look exactly like a vampire who had just finished a very successful snack.

"There," Jamie announced, looking proud. "If you walked up to a stranger like this and asked for blood, they'd probably just offer you their neck".

Lucien checked himself in the mirror. He felt… dramatic. The cape didn't look nearly as intimidating as he'd hoped, though. On Leon, it would probably look dangerous. On Lucien, it just looked expensive and slightly theatrical. Maybe it was his size. He looked down at his own thin wrists. Leon could probably snap them with two fingers.

Whatever. He wasn't trying to conquer a kingdom; he was just trying to survive dinner.

As the sky deepened into a bruised navy, Leon offered to pick him up. Lucien refused immediately. It wasn't a date. Why did people need to be picked up for a regular dinner? He mapped out the subway route and headed out alone.

At first, he was worried about looking like a freak on public transit. Then he stepped into the station and realized he had severely underestimated American Halloween. The subway didn't look like transit; it looked like a supernatural outbreak.

He was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with monsters. A blood-splattered nurse nearly took his eye out with a foam axe. A skeleton turned too fast and took five years off his life. Lucien stood trapped in the middle of the car, clutching the railing like a stray lamb in a slaughterhouse.

I should have let him pick me up, he thought miserably. I absolutely should have let him pick me up.

Suddenly, a hand brushed against his waist. Lucien flinched, turning instinctively to fight off whatever zombie was touching him, but before he could move, a heavy arm wrapped firmly around his middle and pulled him back against a solid, warm chest.

A familiar, low voice rumbled against his ear. "Surprise."

Lucien's heart did a triple-flip. Warm breath hit the sensitive skin of his neck. "Look what I found," Leon murmured. "A little vampire".

Lucien twisted in the hold, his eyes widening. Leon was there. And Leon was also dressed as a vampire.

It was a disaster. They were matching.

But while Lucien looked like a budget cosplay, Leon's costume was on an entirely different level. His cape was heavy, lined with deep crimson that shimmered under the flickering subway lights. He'd actually managed to get red contacts in, turning his steel-gray eyes into something predatory and cold. His blond hair was slicked back, exposing the sharp, lethal lines of his jaw.

He didn't look like a college student in a costume. He looked like an ancient king who had just woken up and decided to be everyone's problem.

"How are you even here?" Lucien squeaked.

Leon smirked. "There's only one subway line from your dorm to the restaurant".

Lucien wanted to ask why Leon—a billionaire heir with a fleet of luxury cars—was currently standing in a cramped, stinky subway car. But he couldn't find the words. Instead, he grumbled, "Why are you a vampire too?".

"Guess we had the same idea," Leon said, adjusting a cuff with annoying calmness.

The height difference was making things difficult. Matching costumes were dangerous enough, but Leon towered over him so effectively that Lucien felt less like a fellow immortal and more like emotional support prey.

Leon watched the emotions flicker across Lucien's face, looking like he was one second away from laughing. "What? You hate matching with me?".

"No," Lucien snapped, too defensive to be convincing.

Leon's smile deepened, but before Lucien could glare properly, the train jolted. A wave of passengers surged forward, shoving Lucien right into Leon's chest. And, of course, Leon had chosen tonight to wear a black shirt unbuttoned obscenely low beneath his cape.

Lucien's mouth landed directly against bare skin. Specifically, Leon's bare chest.

It was perfectly centered. A horrifying level of accuracy. Lucien's entire soul prepared to leave his body. He lifted his head slowly, only to find Leon looking down at him with unmistakable amusement burning in those red eyes.

"I wasn't—" Lucien stopped.

There was a visible, dark red lipstick stain pressed directly against Leon's skin. Jamie's lip tint was apparently industrial strength.

"I'm sorry!" Lucien blurted, reaching up automatically to rub it away. "I'll fix it—".

He started wiping frantically. Predictably, rubbing it only made it worse. His fingers dragged across the solid muscle of Leon's chest, smearing the red stain until it looked even more suggestive.

Leon went dead still. Lucien kept rubbing, his panic rising. Then, Leon's hand shot out and caught his wrist in a grip of iron.

"Enough," Leon's voice was rougher, dropped into a register that made the hair on Lucien's arms stand up.

Lucien blinked up at him, trembling. "Are you mad?".

Leon exhaled slowly, looking like he was fighting for his life. "No."

Because if Lucien kept touching him like that for another thirty seconds, Leon was going to have a very visible problem in a very crowded place.

Lucien's gaze accidentally dropped back to where he'd been rubbing. Even through the shirt, Leon felt unfairly solid. Hard, warm, and dangerous. He stared a second too long, and he knew Leon noticed.

The rest of the subway ride was the longest ten minutes of Lucien's life. By the time they escaped onto the street, he was emotionally bankrupt. The restaurant was still blocks away, but Lucien insisted on walking through the Halloween parade in the main square.

The streets were pure chaos—ghosts, demons, and drunken frat boys everywhere. Yet, people still stopped to stare at them. Leon looked terrifyingly beautiful, and Lucien looked like the world's most kidnappable vampire.

"Oh my God," a girl whispered loudly to her friend as they passed. "They look so good together".

Lucien nearly spontaneously combusted. Together? Together where?.

Leon glanced sideways at him. "You're distracted."

Before Lucien could respond, Leon caught his wrist. "If I don't hold onto you, you're going to walk straight into a tree".

"I would not!"

Leon ignored him. His hand slid down until their fingers intertwined, his large, calloused palm wrapping fully around Lucien's smaller hand. Lucien's brain effectively shut down. They were holding hands.

He tried to rationalize it. Americans are just touchy. It's cultural. It doesn't mean anything. But he couldn't ignore the way Leon's calluses dragged lightly against his skin with every step. He barely remembered how to walk.

They reached the square just as a massive parade float rolled by, ghost brides throwing candy into the crowd. Lucien's attention snapped to the sweets immediately. As a few candies flew toward his face, Leon caught them out of the air with effortless ease.

Instead of handing them over, Leon tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming. "Trick or treat?".

Lucien pressed his lips together, then—in a moment of rare boldness—bared his teeth and hissed at Leon in a tiny, fake vampire threat.

Leon went silent.

Lucien looked soft even when he was trying to be fierce. His dark eyes were bright under the city lights, his red mouth parted over fake fangs, his skin pale against the dramatic makeup. Leon finally understood why vampires in stories lost their minds. Lucien looked like temptation wrapped in silk and bad decisions.

When Leon didn't react, Lucien started to feel awkward. But just as he was about to laugh it off, Leon reached out and caught his chin between his fingers.

Lucien froze. Leon tilted his face up, his gaze heavy and dangerous.

"A vampire without fangs," Leon murmured, his thumb brushing slowly against Lucien's lower lip. "How exactly are you planning to drink blood?".

Lucien's breath hitched. Leon looked at his mouth—the fake fangs were harmless. Lucien couldn't even break skin if he tried. Leon imagined sliding his fingers into that pretty mouth just to watch Lucien panic.

"It's okay," Leon said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive thread as he leaned closer.

"You can bite me.".