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The parking lot was packed with orange lights and the faint smell of kettle corn. Grian tightened his jacket around himself, eyeing the massive barn-turned-haunted-house at the end of the gravel path. From somewhere inside came the echo of a chainsaw and a very real scream.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he muttered, glaring at the “The Hollows: Haunted Experience” sign.
Scar, standing beside him with a hot chocolate in one hand and a mischievous smile in the other, bumped his shoulder lightly. “Come on, Bird Boy, it’ll be fun! Besides, I’m here to protect you.”
“Protect me? You jumped when a moth flew at you five minutes ago.”
“That was an aggressive moth.”
Grian tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” Scar grinned, taking a sip of his drink, “you still agreed to come with me.”
The truth was, Grian had agreed before thinking it through—mostly because Scar had asked with that bright, reckless enthusiasm that was hard to say no to. That and the little flutter in Grian’s stomach whenever Scar smiled like that.
Now, standing in front of the creaking doors and the faint scent of fake blood, he wasn’t sure whether the chill in his chest was fear or something else entirely.
Inside, the lights dimmed to red. Smoke curled along the floor. Scar walked first, his tall frame somehow both confident and ridiculously tense. Grian trailed behind, trying not to laugh every time Scar flinched at a sound effect.
“Okay, I know that was fake,” Scar said after a zombie lunged from behind a curtain, “but I swear that guy almost took my soul.”
“You don’t have a soul,” Grian teased, hiding his grin behind his hand.
“Excuse me! I’m full of soul. Overflowing, even.” Scar gestured dramatically—right before someone in a clown mask jumped from a hidden panel.
Scar yelped and grabbed Grian’s arm on instinct, pulling him close. Grian froze, half from surprise and half because—well. Scar’s hand was warm through his sleeve, and his laugh after was breathless and boyish.
“Okay,” Grian said, voice a little higher than usual, “you’re not the protector in this situation.”
Scar didn’t let go immediately. “Maybe I just needed an excuse to hold onto you.”
The words hit like a low-voltage shock. Grian blinked up at him, but Scar was already walking forward again, pretending to study a fake spider web.
Grian swallowed hard and followed.
By the time they reached the final corridor—lined with flickering lanterns and eerie whispers—Grian had gotten used to Scar’s hand brushing against his. It kept happening, every few steps.
And then the finale hit—strobe lights, an actor with a chainsaw, the works. Scar screamed (a very manly scream, according to him later) and nearly collided with Grian, who was laughing so hard he could barely move. They stumbled out the exit together into the crisp October air.
Scar bent over, catching his breath. “Okay, okay… ten out of ten experience. I was so brave.”
“You screamed louder than the actors.”
“That’s called performance empathy.”
Grian laughed again, the sound coming out softer this time. “You’re ridiculous.”
Scar straightened, brushing fake cobwebs from his hair. “And you love it.”
Grian froze. The teasing tone was there, sure—but beneath it, something quieter lingered. Hopeful. Nervous.
He looked up. Scar wasn’t grinning now; his expression was open, uncertain in a way Grian had never seen before.
“I mean…” Scar rubbed the back of his neck. “You do, right? Or at least… maybe I could hope you do.”
Grian’s heart thudded hard. He took a small step closer, enough that their breath mingled in the chill air. “You’re not supposed to confess after a chainsaw chase,” he said softly.
“Seemed like the perfect time. My heart’s already racing.”
Grian smiled—then reached up and tugged lightly at the hem of Scar’s sleeve. “Yeah,” he said. “I do love it. And maybe… you.”
For a moment, the noise of the crowd faded. Scar’s grin broke like sunlight through fog, and he leaned down, pressing a hesitant, smiling kiss to Grian’s temple.
Somewhere behind them, someone screamed from the haunted house again. Grian laughed quietly against him.
“Still scared?” he teased.
Scar’s arm tightened around his waist. “Only of what’ll happen if I let you go.”