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“Papa!” Emile shouted, jumping into his father’s lap.
“What’s wrong, Emi?” Nick, full of concern, scanned his sons for bruises or open wounds. “Are you hurt, mom chéri?”
“I saw a scary witch in the hall!”
The knot in Nick’s throat loosened with relief.
“Emi, you know it’s Halloween. Remember we dressed up as elves last year? It’s just someone trick or treating, my little rabbit,” Nick, smiled reassuringly at his favourite person.
“No, Papa! It was a real witch! She put a curse on me!”
Being a single father didn’t leave Nick much room for socialising outside of the odd night out with his mates. Besides, they had been going strong so far and he didn’t want to risk upending any of that; not after how hard the divorce and subsequent custody battle was on Emi.
Nick didn’t know the neighbours, so he wasn’t sure who the witch was.
“Alright, then. I know just the thing to help!” Nick scooped up his son and carried him to his room. “ Let’s pop on your costume and go trick or treating!”
Emile hesitated momentarily before diving into his closet to retrieve his toga and laurel. “You gotta put your’s on too, Papa!”
“Now, remember. What do we tell your mother about the candy when you see her next weekend?”
Emile peaked his head out from the closet, laurel askew. “Nothing!”
“Exactly!”
🍂🍂🍂
After an hour or so of confectionery collecting, they retreated back to their quiet building, laughing and sorting who got what sweet.
When they stepped on to their floor, Emile gasped and hid behind Nick’s leg. “There she is, Papa,” Emile whispered loudly, his voice carrying down the hall. “There’s the witch!”
Nick followed his eyes to see a pale, dark-haired woman wearing a flowing black witch’s dress, pointy hat and all! She glanced back at them, her expression blank, before closing the door to her apartment behind her.
A light bulb went off in Nick’s mind. He leaned down, and spoke gently to his son, “I think the witch might be a sweet lady.” He held his hand out. “Be brave with me?”
Emile’s eyes flickered between his father and the door.
“You won’t let the scary witch hurt me?”
“Never in a million years, my brave sunspot.”
He gently knocked on the door to apartment C3. When the door creaked open, Nick lost his breath, his heart stuttered at the sight before him.
It was not a witch that opened the door. Instead, a thin, olive-skinned, toga-wearing Mediterranean GOD stood in front of them, a shy smile accentuated by sharp cheekbones and an even sharper jawline.
Nick’s brain ceased all function.
He’s so pretty…
“You’re not a witch?” Nick asked dumbly.
“Not last I checked but it’s the season for it,” the beautiful man replied, his voice soft and sweet. “I’m Charlie.”
Nick’s tongue felt heavy, his throat tight; momentarily losing the ability to speak. It was taking a lot of willpower not to stare at Charlie’s partially exposed chest.
“Trick or treat! I’m Emile! I’m 7 and I’m Apollo!” Emile appeared from behind Nick’s leg with a smile, all traces of fear gone. “I like your toga, Charlie!”
Charlie grinned down at him, offering a handshake. “Very nice to meet you, Emile! I like your toga. Yellow is a dashing color on you. Apollo? Great minds think alike! I’m Patroclus. Now Emile, who’s the handsome soldier behind you?”
Emilie giggled, “That’s my papa. He’s Achilles! He’s scared of the witch but I promised him I would protect him!”
Charlie’s expression softened, though Nick did detect a hint of a smirk playing over Charlie’s lips. “Well you’re a courageous lad, aren’t you? You deserve two Reese’s, if that’s alright with your papa?”
Nick’s brain came back online long enough for him to nod. He rubbed at the back of his neck, “Yes, that’s fine. Very kind of you, Charlie. Say thank you to the nice man, Emile!”
“Thank you, Charlie!”
Charlie’s eyes roamed over Nick, lingering on his arms, causing the taller man to bite his lip and look away bashfully. “You want a biscuit? Made them myself.”
“Yes, please.” Nick took the frosted sugar cookie, their warm fingers brushing against one another; his heart fluttered at the sensation. “Cheers.”
“I- um- I like your costume. You look go- it looks good,” Nick sputtered.
“Thanks. You look good too.” Charlie bashfully blushed with a smile.
“So,” Charlie cleared his throat and held Nick’s eye. “Achilles, huh?”
“Oh! Ye-yeah,” Nick croaked. “Kind of a funny coincidence, huh?”
“I’d like to think it’s a bit of foreshadowing, maybe,” Charlie hummed.
Oh my.
“Want to come over and watch a movie with us, Charlie? I think you’re cool and Papa thinks you’re pretty!” Emile suddenly blurts out.
“Emi!” Nick’s face was flaming.
“Oh is that so?” Charlie smirked as he leaned up against the doorframe. “I’m visiting family so I would feel bad-“
“Invite them in, Charles.”
The three boys screamed in fright. Nick clutched his chest, Emile hid behind his leg. “Papa! The witch!”
“Tori! You know how I feel about the magic!” Charlie squeaked.
Tori blankly stared at the trio, half obscured by the shadows of the dimly lit apartment. A mess of brown curls suddenly peaked around the corner. “Do we have guests? Oh! Mate, he’s wearing a toga like you!” A wild haired man stepped out, revealing a large inflatable tomato costume sporting a cartoon face.
“The excitable tomato is Michael. Michael, this is…” Charlie turned back toward the father and son.
“Nick! I’m Nick and this is my son, Emile.”
Emile waved at Michael. “Are you from Veggietales?”
“Yes! Thank you! A truly cultured gentleman you are! I say they’re cool enough to hang.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? We wouldn’t want to crash your party.”
“Not at all!” Michael exclaimed loudly. “The more the spookier!”
Emile giggled, taking Nick’s hand and leading them into the apartment. “You’re a silly tomato!”
Nick had a good feeling about tonight, both for Emile and himself.