Lost || she/they || 18 || bisexual || american || writer, artist, lover of fantasy & sci-fi for as long as I can remember
Main account: @lostglassguitars
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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ WRITING AND REQUESTING ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Who I write for:
-LEWIS PULLMAN CHARACTERS: Robert Reynolds, Bob Floyd, Miles Miller, Rhett Abbott, Calvin Evans, Ben Mears, Rocco Gauthier, Todd Stevens
-The Creature / Adam (Frankenstein 2025)
-Albert Wesker (Resident Evil)
-Ramattra, Reaper, Mauga, Hazard, Moira, and Reinhardt (Overwatch 2)
-JEFF GOLDBLUM CHARACTERS: Ian Malcolm (Jurassic Park), David Levinson (Independence Day)
-Ambessa Medarda (Arcane)
What I won't write: Abuse, cheating, S/A, pregnancy/childbirth, RPF.
Requesting rules: I take requests--requests for HCs are welcome and easy for me to fulfill, but full-length fics are things that require lots of time and effort for me so they will not be quick. I may just respond to thoughts with a drabble and might possibly expand on it in the future.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
wowza got on and saw that so many people have been loving the holiday fic and following... nutso! thank you all so much for the support and the lovely comments, i appreciate it!!
summary: Christmastime brings a dreaded holiday workplace job of a Secret Santa. When you get the not-so-popular recluse chemist Calvin Evans as your Secret Santa, you set out on a mission to find the right gift for him. Things totally do not get complicated.
AO3 LINK
contains: fluff, minor swearing, idiots falling in love, Calvin being autistic (he just like me), general Christmas silliness. If I've forgotten anything, please tell me!
word count: 8.6k
A/N: wow I'm really sliding into home base at the last second haha... this is for the event a very lewmagoo holiday! Everyone send some incredible love to all those who have done submissions, and to Leah, who put the event together.
Happy New Year's everyone!! Hope you enjoy <3
dividers by @/chateaubarnes
Every year, one of your greatest nightmares stretched into the holidays, filling in the space, blotting out the gaps, consuming your every waking moment.
This great nightmare was a very simple, plain thing; workplaces loved doing dumb things for the holidays. Notoriously, this came in the form of Secret Santas.
You had never ever ever understood the appeal. Workplaces seemed to love the idea of forcing people who already saw one another every day to make torturous small talk, when they could be doing anything else to prepare for the already busy holiday season. It wasn't productive for anyone, really, but your workplace, Hastings Research Institute, seemed eager about this holiday season. You supposed you would have to grit your teeth and go along for the ride.
The initiation to this time of frustration came on a clear December 4th. Everyone was gathered in the cafeteria, where people sat in their normal places for lunch. You normally clustered on the end of a table where similar secretaries and lab assistant sat, one elbow hanging off, so you sat there, blending into the crowd as you normally did and excited chatter flowed in one ear and out the other. After everyone was seated, a sharp tap to the microphone up front drew everyone's attention to the front of the room.
"Hello, everybody. Good afternoon." The man up front gave a short, small smile at everyone. "I'm sure some of us aren't very eager to be wrenched away from our important work, but this holiday season is an important time. It's a time where we can all remember what a team we are here at Hastings, and how we work best when we work together."
You knew of at least three people at your table who secretly hated and bad mouthed each other, in secret, frequently. If this place was a team, you were as good as the worst sports team out there.
"This year, as I'm sure you're all aware, we'll be doing our annual Secret Santa!" The man raised up a large bowl. "We've gathered everybody's names into this bowl. The rules are simple, as always—draw a name, keep it to yourself, and get a secret gift for that person. On our holiday party before Christmas, everyone will get their gifts from their Secret Santa!"
Ah, yes, so simple. How convenient that he did not mention how difficult it was if you got someone you didn't know at all. You were already mentally preparing yourself for some smelly soap to go straight into your garbage bin at home.
People formed a line, called table by table to retrieve little slips of paper. Everyone in Hastings seemed determinedly set to their task, which surprised you. It was your first Christmas there, and despite getting to know people here and there, you clearly hadn't learned enough about them, because even the guy who never said thank you when you brought his group coffee looked excited to do this.
You didn't look at the paper you received until you returned to your seat. Paper half-crumpled in your hand, you rolled it open and cupped it secretly to the side as you read over the name.
Calvin Evans
Your head slowly raised.
Oh no.
You craned your head as nonchalantly as possible to figure out if the man was even there. After a moment, you spotted him, sitting as close to the door and as far from others as possible.
Calvin Evans, the ghost of the Hastings Research Institute.
You had spoken to him twice—only brief interactions, a "Good morning" and an "Excuse me" that could hardly constitute as true conversation. You had seen him plenty more times, of course. He would approach the building in sweaty gray joggers on the dot every morning as you sat in your car and told yourself to stand the hell up and go inside.
He was revered among your coworkers because he funded the place. Because he was brilliant—silently light-years past the work everyone else did.
He was hated among your coworkers because, apparently, he was weird.
Maybe he's just introverted, you thought as the line finished and you stuffed the paper into your pocket. This was, of course, wishful thinking, but a girl could dream.
"Did you get someone you liked?" Your coworker nudged your arm—a nice lady, Marion, who was always pleasant to talk to and normally listened when you told her how you were. "I got that handsome man I talk about all the time."
"Rory?"
"Yes." She grinned. "Isn't it fate? I'll have to think of something nice to give him—not overly romantic, but something that says I notice, y'know?"
"I'm sure he'll appreciate whatever you give him, Marion." You watched people begin to file out. Apparently in the midst of your thoughts you had missed the closing words from your boss. You would get all the details later.
"It can't help to be thoughtful." Marion put a hand delicately over her heart and batted her eyelids. "After all, isn't that what a man desires?"
You knew she was joking, but something about it still made your nose wrinkle. "If I ever start acting like that, poison me."
Marion gasped your name dramatically. "What? Oh, come on, you would never!"
"I know I wouldn't." You stood. "Which is why it would be concerning if I ever did."
You faced a very dangerous obstacle ahead of you. About four weeks to Christmas, and you had absolutely zero plan.
You laid out your options a few days later, scribbling idly on scrap paper.
Option 1: A safe gift. A generic gift. Some kind of candy, or nuts, something easily disposable… yet disappointing and entirely unexciting.
Option 2: Something science related. Like a book or a decor item—something easy and job related, something you'd already heard others planning to do. Yet, still, not very personal.
Option 3: Actually try. Try to get close enough to the living enigma of the Institute in order to get him a good Secret Santa gift.
You'd never been one to turn down a challenge. Option 3 it was.
You got your first chance at infiltration later that day. Deliveries were bi-weekly unless there was some particular accident that cleared supplies from the place. The delivery driver came late, flustered and annoyed because of something happening in his own workspace. You sympathized with him—the holidays got to everyone—and offered to help carry boxes around. This was a blessing, eventually, because after working through the load, you finally arrived to the final box. The box to be delivered to Calvin Evans.
"You've been working so hard the past hour, you could always let someone else grab it." A secretary—Marie? Maddie?—lounged over her desk, watching you stoop to pick up the box. "God knows those boys in the lab could use a walk from time to time."
"I've got it," you said. "I really don't mind, helps me test my memory."
"If you insist."
Calvin Evans' lab was a bit further removed from the others, down a long corridor as a door that others seemed to steer around if they needed to pass it. There was a handwritten sign plastered on the door talking about DO NOT DISTURB, but both for the sake of your research and your aching arms, you managed to knock on the door.
The door swung open around three seconds after you knocked. The man in front of you was noticeably taller than you had ever really taken note of, his hair short and slightly curled in front of his face as the nicest blue eyes you'd ever seen focused straight on you.
"Hi." You greeted.
"… hello." Calvin blinked at you, then the box. "It's Thursday already." This was not a question.
"Yes, it is." You hefted the box a little higher. "Apologies that I'm not the normal delivery man, he got… indisposed, I guess? Something about route mix-ups."
"You've managed to deliver the correct box competently to my door, so I see no reason why it makes any difference." Calvin blinked a few times, not exactly making eye contact but clearly trying to look at you nonetheless. "You're…" He said your name slowly. "… right?"
You nodded. "Yeah. That's me."
"Come in." He offered suddenly, stepping aside.
Though you questioned if this had ever happened before, and if you were perhaps the first person to see the inside of this lab since he had taken residence, you accepted the invitation with a gracious nod and stepped inside. You had seen all the labs in Hastings except for his, and it was… not what you expected. Sure, there were the normal things—beakers and a chalkboard with scribbled notes in handwriting you could slightly catch, but there was also a mess. An abominable mess. And a million crumbs that seemed to be related to nuts.
You stood there for a moment, vaguely bewildered, but Calvin brushed past you. "Come, come here, I have somewhere you can set that."
"Of course." You followed him to the clearest counter, watching him absentmindedly brush aside nut shells. "Do you… want any help organizing them?" Organizing your whole lab, perhaps? You'd worked as some mix of secretary and lab assistant over your year-ish of working at Hastings, which led you into the familiarity of how the other labs were organized. It would be easier, probably, considering Calvin's lab was all his own, but—
"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" Calvin asked. He crooked an eyebrow in your direction, and you faltered, before he barreled on, suddenly switching gear. "Actually. Yes. I… yes. Your help would be appreciated."
You stared at him for a moment and then nodded. You were… afraid to touch anything. Or move, really. Every purpose and reason you were there had sort of been thrown out the window. Your eyes flicked over everything, slowly, slowly, before you took in a deep breath.
You had a mission, right? You had to focus. Stupid, annoying, dickish Secret Santa.
"Do you like nuts?" You blurted.
Calvin looked at you. "Are you being sarcastic?" He asked, a vague twitch to the corner of his mouth.
The switch of expression relaxed you a little. You pushed back slowly as Calvin opened up the box of supplies. "I suppose I'm curious why such a precise chemist has scatterings of nuts all over his lab."
"You're calling me a slob."
"I think it's funny."
"Hmm." He had started you passing you things, and you were mindlessly taking them and setting them aside without really realizing the rhythm the two of you had fallen into. "I do like nuts. They're my lunch."
"Every day?"
"Every day."
You blinked a little. That couldn't really be healthy, could it? You studied him from the corner of your eye for a moment—he looked healthy enough. Pretty, really, with that shaped nose and the vaguest thoughtful frown on his face at all times, like everything was a mystery to him.
"Are you really that constantly at work that you can hardly pause for lunch?"
Calvin made a motion like a shrug as the two of you finished unpacking the box. "Science never stops."
"The human body does." You scratched at your neck slightly. "Isn't the recommendation for calories per day somewhere around 2000 calories for men? I don't think nuts really get you that high up there."
He frowned slightly at you. "I don't think—"
"Oh, what else, you also need proteins and enzymes and vitamins, especially since we are in the winter months." You started ticking off on your fingers. "Vitamin C, protein, minerals like iron and zinc…"
Calvin was just staring at you. "Are you… suggesting I change my eating habits?"
"I'm just saying that Hastings Research Institute's best chemist should have the right diet to keep him up and running. We wouldn't want all this—" You gestured to him. "—to break down, would we?"
He slowly shook his head. "… no. We wouldn't."
"Glad you agree." You gestured to the set-out items. "Now, let's work on these?"
There wasn't much conversation that passed between the two of you for a time. You were pretty sure you'd thrown Calvin off a little, but he didn't seem to mind it, or you, which surprised you. For about a year, all you had heard about him was gossipy whispers about his weird ways and aversion to other people.
Maybe he was just lonely, you thought, watching him from the corner of your eye as he lined up beakers in his supply room.
When you had finished helping him organize his supplies, you cleared your throat in the vague silence. "Well. There you are. If there's nothing else I can do, then I can leave."
He said your name, which made you pause. When he stepped closer, his eyes were very focused on you.
"Do you have specific recommendations for how to improve my diet?" He asked bluntly.
You stared up at him, then smiled. "Are you asking for more help?"
Something like a flustered expression passed over his face, brief as a flash, but he tilted his head. "Are you offering more help?"
You hummed, considering. "Tuesday night. I will come to your house and make you dinner, and we will talk about balanced diets." You stuck your hand out, unsure where this boldness had come from, yet unwilling to back down now. "Deal?"
Calvin smiled, just a little bit, and shook your hand. "Deal."
Three weeks to Christmas, and you had all your holiday shopping done.
Christmas Eve, you would spend with your family. This was the same every year, on the dot, no matter what. They lived close, yet you didn't see them too often, everyone wrapped up in their own life, so you relished the yearly chance to be close, even for a night. It was one night you could at least not worry so much about everything else.
You had a bit more money this year, too. Working at Hastings provided you with a decent enough salary that you could purchase some things you truly wanted to buy, which included Christmas gifts. The one problem was that your car was tiny, so your entire back seat was mostly crammed with the gifts you'd bought.
Calvin Evans found you two hours after you arrived at work, hovering all tall in his crisp white lab coat as he watched you slap at a typewriter like it had insulted you.
"Hi." He said after a moment.
You jumped slightly as you spun to him. "Goodness—what is wrong with you? How in the world did you sneak up on me, you're massive!" You gestured to him.
"You seemed focused on… assaulting a typewriter." Calvin said, tone somewhat teasing as his gaze moved between you and the machine.
"Yes, well, it's not working, so maybe it deserves a smack or two."
"Or seven."
"Hey." You frowned at him ruefully. "Can I do something for you, Dr. Evans?"
He straightened. "I was… wondering when you were planning to come over. To my house."
"Oh." You smacked your lips. "Well, after work, I have to go buy groceries, so I'll buy those and then come over."
"Okay." Calvin paused for a moment. "May I come with you?"
You stared at him for a moment and tilted your head. "You could, if you would like." You smiled. "Is there a reason why?"
"Well, I don't drive, first of all."
"You don—"
"I believe it would be more beneficial if I were able to lead you to my house more directly," Calvin continued. "and I am also curious what choices you'll make towards dinner. If the process of a good diet starts at a grocery store, I believe I should start there with you as well."
The way you were going, you were pretty sure you were going to get him a cookbook for his Secret Santa gift. Either way, there was something endearing about the linear logic of the chemist and the way he seemed so solid and certain, so you nodded.
"Alright, then. Once we get off work, we can go. Sound good?"
"Yes." Calvin rounded on his heel, then paused and gave you a little smile and a thumbs-up.
You tried to ignore the dumb smile over your own face and the little thump in your chest.
When Calvin bent his way into your car later, you saw him cast a curious glance over his shoulder at the numerous Christmas presents in the back.
"For my family," you explained. "I actually have money this year, so… I kind of went a little overboard?"
"Do you like buying gifts for others?" Calvin asked as he fastened his seatbelt.
You blew out a small breath as you pulled out from Hastings' parking lot. You don't know the half of it. "I don't find it easy. But I do like it."
"Finding a path to the heart." Calvin muttered.
You snorted. "Yeah, exactly. Good gifts are… simple, right? Something that makes that connection between people. That shows them you noticed." You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. "But I still find it so hard, you know? How do you balance the materialistic with the, uh, idealistic? Or—or with a possible experience? It's so easy to just wrap something, but what if what someone needs or wants is bigger and less solid than wrapping?"
Calvin remained silent, though he hummed softly. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and found that he was simply watching you, taking in all your words.
"I want to try," you continued after a moment. "I want to do good, especially during Christmas. Gifts shouldn't mean nothing, you know? They shouldn't be a pointless workplace exercise, either. Secret Santas are stupid sometimes. Sometimes you barely know your coworkers, and you're, what, supposed to buy them a present? Just for fun? Just because? If I exist in someone's space, I want to know them before I buy them something or create something for them. It doesn't feel complete or right otherwise."
Silence lingered for a long, long moment. Then Calvin spoke.
"If the amount of presents in this car means anything, I think you are very good about giving people the right gifts."
Your shoulders eased marginally.
"I think you have a more optimistic and passionate look on it than some people." He shifted. "Christmas doesn't carry the same connotations for everyone."
"What does it carry for you?" You asked quietly.
He paused for a moment, staring out the window instead of at you, hands curling and uncurling in his lap. You pulled into the grocery store parking lot and turned off the car, yet did not move, waiting for his answer.
"I'm usually alone for Christmas." Calvin said quietly after a long silence. He was factual about it, yet you saw a new crease between his eyebrows, something that marred his pretty face with evidence of a pained past you had no idea about. "I would… I would like to put thought into gifts, yet I have very little people to achieve that with. Christmas feels very distant from me. Working is easier."
You looked at him for a moment and then extended your hand, resting it on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you've not had good experiences so far in your life," you said. "but this year, I'm here, and I'm going to teach you how to eat well, and we're going to buy a garland and put it up in your house, and we're going to sing along to Christmas songs."
Calvin blinked at you. "… thank you." he said, then— "In my house?"
"In your house."
He sighed. "Lovely." His fingers brushed over your own as you pulled your hand away and he reached for it at the same time. There was a hesitance there, a sort of in-between, before he exited the vehicle. "Let's go, then."
You had a small little list in your head. Both of ingredients and the plan. The Plan. Trademarked. Underlined three times. Calling it something other than Secret Santa Present made it feel more important, more declared.
And it was important. Because Jesus Christ, Calvin Evans was indeed the world's loneliest person. He was alone, and nobody should ever feel alone on Christmas, so you had decided without really deciding that you would be the guide to the greatest Christmas ever. And also so you could figure out what to get him for the Secret Santa.
The grocery store run was pleasant and strangely domestic. Calvin trailed after you like a lost puppy, never too close and certainly never too far. You talked nearly the whole time, your mouth running words, but you talked about food. You talked about nutrition and balance and flavors and how things did and didn't go together. Sometimes what you talked about went into your cart and sometimes it didn't, but Calvin paid attention the whole time, and if you stopped talking you would start feeling self conscious, so you kept going.
By the time the two of you were checking food out, you found yourself staring at the rising price of the food with an increasingly anxious look.
"Move." Calvin murmured near your ear. You blinked up at him, confused, just in time to watch him pass money to the cashier.
"Calvin—" You hissed.
"Don't worry about it. You're grabbing food for me." He insisted as he looked down at you. "Let me pay for my food, yeah?"
You shut up pretty quick under that firm look.
Calvin led you with perfect geographical instructions into his driveway. His house was lovely—simple yet well-sized in a lived-in neighborhood. Had you not known he was alone in life, you would've assumed he would be married with two children and a pet in this kind of house.
"Let me take some of those." He scooped up bags of groceries and helped usher you into his house, which was neat and plainly decorated. Lived in, but not breathed in. You noted a record player that you passed by on the way in and quirked a lip thoughtfully as the two of you began unpacking groceries.
"I saw a record player." You looked at him. "A fan of music?"
"Oh." He blinked, then nodded. "Yes, I am, I like Charlie Parker."
"You're a jazz fan?" This delighted you, though you couldn't put your finger on why. When Calvin nodded, seemingly puzzled by your grin, you just smiled wider and giggled as you lined ingredients up for dinner. "I love jazz, too. You wanna put a record on? We could use some music while we cook."
Charlie Parker's complex harmonies floated around the two of you, enveloped in the warm light of Christmas spirit. Calvin helped you chop vegetables and mix ingredients, watching with rapt attention as you rattled off to him steps in creating tonight's meal—soup and homemade bread, because a way to win someone's heart over was obviously with homemade bread. His attention was easily the thing that startled you the most—though he often didn't make eye contact and his responses could be blunt and unapologetic, it was clear Calvin Evans was a man who took in every word that was said.
Once, you had heard someone describe him as haughty. A holier-than-thou scientist who thought he was so much better than everyone else.
Now, as you watched him push bread into his oven, a concentrated crinkle to his brow, you thought that he was better than everyone, but he certainly wasn't haughty over it. He was lonely and thoughtful and brilliant, and you'd only properly known him for about a week now.
"Now what?"
You were shaken from your thoughts to find Calvin watching you as he dried off his hands.
"Well," you hummed. "The soup is gonna simmer, the bread needs to bake… we don't have anything else to do for a while."
"Would you like to talk?" Calvin asked quietly.
You stared at him. "Would you like to?"
"I wouldn't offer—" He stepped forward, a little closer than normal, and looked down at you. "—if I didn't want to."
"Garland, then," you said, weaker than you wanted to be. "and talking."
Calvin didn't even need a ladder. He just needed your direction as he stretched up high and explained, breathlessly, his latest science project to you.
"I've been going over things in my head repeatedly. Trying to think of new routes, you know? New directions. Everything in chemistry may seem like it has been done already, but that is not true. There's always new directions to be stretching, as long as the mind allows it."
"To the left a little for that hook."
"Thank you. So," he inhaled. "I've gone back to the basics, really. On what we think of as the modern truth of chemistry. When you think of other great scientific discoveries such as those by Galileo, he did not make those discoveries by simply cruising along and assuming all modern assumptions were correct. Amino acids, for example—those are such a basis for the modern day, but what if it's more complicated, more immense than modern scientists imagine? I'm trying to… expand from that. Combinations, equations, trying to send out in all directions in the hopes that I snag onto something."
"It sounds rather a lot like faith to me," you said curiously. "but I like your reasoning. Do you really think that by simply casting some kind of line out, you'll get a tug?"
"I can't hope for anything but." Calvin finished attaching the garland and finally turned to you, brushing askew strands of hair away from his face. "When science seems to have hit some kind of dead end, that's when you know something is wrong."
The two of you lounged on his couch for a while and just… talked. You couldn't remember the last time you had gotten to know someone, and from the clunky yet endearing way Calvin navigated the conversation, you knew it was the same for him. He was incredibly intelligent in more than just chemistry—he talked about his neighbors, all Black Americans in a world that rejected them. He talked about the intricacies of public law that he had dipped his toe into at one point. He talked about how religion was interwoven into so much that it made people blind, especially considering science.
You liked to hear him speak. You thought that you could listen to him speak forever, with that warm, intelligent voice with a cadence like warm water.
Just as the two of you were cutting the bread into slices, you remembered the mission all over again. It had flitted from your mind in this warm haze of a growing friendship, but now it was back, and you cleared your throat as you set the table.
"So," you started casually. "do you have any Christmas wishes, then?"
"I don't exactly have anyone to give me gifts." Calvin remarked.
"If you did, though." You glanced up at him. "Or if you're buying things for yourself. Anything on the plate?"
Calvin considered this question for a moment as he ladled soup into his bowl. "I would like more casual clothes," he said. "for when I'm home. I also need a second workout outfit."
"You mean your 'I'm running from work to home twice in a day' outfit?" You asked, lips pulled into an amused expression.
He shot you a look. "Yes. That one."
"I think more than one pair of consistently sweat-covered clothing is likely a good idea if you like smelling decent." You said with a nod.
Calvin was giving you a look, but that stopped the instant he ate the first spoonful of soup. You saw his eyes flick to the bowl, then to you, as his eyelids fluttered slightly.
You smiled a little, tentative yet hopeful. "Good?"
"This is…" He ate another bite. "Delicious."
You laughed. "Don't let me stop you, Mr. Genius. Dig in."
Calvin ate with enthusiasm, which encouraged you. You also could not remember the last time you'd shared a meal with someone, so to sit across from a very nice man and speak with him about both foolish and interesting things was really, incredibly, delightful.
"Do you have no other wishes besides clothes?" You asked, poking softly at your mission. Your mission, your mission, was this entire dinner and trip and talk because of your mission, because you were trying to be a good coworker—?
"I like books. And music," Calvin said quietly. "I've tried to look for the last Charlie Parker record I don't have, but it's impossible to find."
"What kind of books do you like?"
"Fiction and nonfiction alike." Calvin dipped some bread into his soup and took in a breath like he hadn't eaten in days. "My favorite book is Great Expectations."
"That's a lovely book. It's been a few years since I've read it, though." You said with a nod. "Okay, okay, let me rephrase the question—do you read to escape or learn?"
Calvin blinked at you. "What?"
"Oftentimes when I ask people about their reading likes and habits, I notice that you can usually group a person on two sides—they read to escape life, or they read to learn."
"Can it not be both?"
"It can," you said. "but normally a person tends to lead. Nobody's ever right and straight in the middle. And it's not like there's a right or a wrong. It's just personality, you know?" You pointed to him with your spoon. "As I asked—escape or learn?"
"… learn," Calvin said after thinking. "I think. I always say that a good book never stops teaching you, y'know? Even a nonfiction book can teach you something, tell you something, give you a lesson or an idea or an out. I like learning."
You smiled a little. Endearing. "I do believe that's your science brain talking."
"I do believe," he repeated, half-teasing, half-mocking. "that you may be right. What about you, then?"
"Escape, mostly. I like fiction and stories. I like the lessons you can get from them, but I also like submerging into someone else's world and problems so I can get away from my own."
Calvin was studying you as you said that, all soft-eyed and quiet. His blue eyes didn't look so blue all the time, you had realized. They looked more brown now, though you knew it wasn't true. Either way, he was listening. This realization, though it had come and gone repeatedly and many times, continued to settle lower in your gut.
"What books do you like?" Calvin asked softly.
You responded in a mumble, something about stories that you never really had shared with anyone before, but he didn't make you feel dumb for it. He just nodded, smiling a little, as he finished his soup.
"I've heard of those." He folded his napkin onto the table. "I think I'll have to take a look at them, when I have some free time."
"Do you ever have free time?" This was the first time you'd ever thought of or experienced him outside of the lab. You realized you'd been thinking of this as an exception.
"That sounds like that one question." Calvin chuckled a little, the sound warming your stomach more than the soup had. "The, ah. 'If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?'."
You huffed. "What would your answer be to that question, then?"
"Of course I make a sound." Calvin said. "I'm a human, and very alive."
"What about the tree, then?"
He scooped up your bowls with a smile down at you. "I'm not a philosopher. I'm a chemist."
"Rude."
He laughed—actually laughed—for the first time, and you just frowned at his back as a million realizations crashed down onto you.
You were not merely doing this for the Secret Santa mission anymore.
One and a half weeks until Christmas.
You liked taking notes. It was an idle habit, but you liked carrying around a small notebook, something that could fit most places inside uniforms and clothing. Small notes, small doodles, average thoughts. You wrote a poem, you doodled a leaf, you did small diary entries, you wrote a grocery list. Your current notebook had been with you for the better part of three years, and thanks to the near-constant use, it was growing close to being finished.
Today, you returned to the four-page section devoted to the mission. Specifically, you were looking at page 3 of this section: POSSIBLE CALVIN GIFTS
-Charlie Parker record
-Great Expectations something?
-Another book of some kind
-Cooking supplies??
-Cookbook
-A coupon for me to cook him dinner I would do that for him anytime he asked actually never mind
-Something really personal that he really really wants.
You sighed and leaned back from the notebook, scrubbing at your face. The party was a week away and you were no closer to deciphering the heart of the man you'd spent every day talking to. You were blaming yourself for that, too. Despite trying to stay focused on what you had to do, every interaction with Calvin Evans turned into something more. Like the fact that he had a comfy chair in his lab that was great for you to rest your legs, or the fact that he had started eating actual lunch in the cafeteria at a table with you. He talked to you in murmurs about science and he never minded your presence, and you felt like an idiot because after everything, you were still going to be the worst Secret Santa to him ever.
The sound of your name made you jerk from your thoughts and slam your notebook shut in the same motion. Calvin stood over your shoulder, blinking curiously at you.
"Hi." You breathed.
"Hi." He repeated, tilting his head. "Could I… have the assistance of an experienced lab assistant?"
"Oh, I don't think we have any of those." You propped your head in a hand and shrugged. "You see, we're very low on intelligence here at Hastings."
"Is that so?" Calvin looked around, shoving an idle hand in his coat pocket. "That's very strange, I could have sworn there was a certain someone here that was incredibly intelligent."
"Hmm. You might've missed them."
Calvin shot you a look. "I don't think I did."
For some reason, you warmed a little. His hand brushed slightly against your back, and you were suddenly shooting up in your seat with a barely restrained squeak as you spoke.
"Wow, I think you've suddenly discovered a great candidate to help you, Dr. Evans! I would be ever so pleased to assist you."
If Calvin noticed how you had said it all in one breath, or that your face felt warmer than usual, he didn't comment on anything, just smiled.
"Wonderful. I appreciate your assistance."
When you pushed inside Calvin's lab, you stopped dead in your tracks.
The inside was clean. Organized. Orderly. Nut remnants swept away, beakers lined, notes organized and spread across counters in a way that wouldn't drive anyone crazy.
Not only was it clean, but there were Christmas lights hanging around the space.
Calvin Evans had fucking decorated.
Your mouth fell open. "Oh my god."
"Do you… like it?"
"Oh my god, Calvin!" You spun around, arms flung up in the air. "You fucking cleaned! Did you do this for me?"
"I…" The scientist suddenly looked very nervous as he closed the door and fidgeted with a pencil in his hands. "I thought that for all the time you spend in here now, you deserved a nice place."
"The thing that made this place nice was you, you silly man, but I like it." You took a glance around and looked at him. "Do you like it?"
"I do." He said quietly. "I did it for myself, too. I just… didn't realize I needed it until you."
You smiled at him. Big and grinning and heartfelt in a way that had been foreign to you for so long. You wanted to fling your arms around him and take all of him in—breathing, breathing, like nothing else mattered.
Still, you held yourself back. You were just friends. Guilt tugged at you, the idea that you were only friends anyways because of a Secret Santa thing. You'd tried not to think about after Christmas, if anything would be the same, or if he would suddenly reject you because of your likely terrible gift.
Maybe you were being silly. Or maybe you were just afraid of losing something you'd just gained.
You shoved the thought away and tried to focus on the present. "This is lovely. I'm glad I could… encourage you, you know? To do something like this."
Calvin nodded. His gaze was soft, lingering on you in a way that had been changing over the last couple of weeks.
"Thank you." He said.
"No, thank you." You said with a smile. "Now—is there anything I can do in here so I don't get accused of slacking?"
"Hmm." Calvin pressed his mouth together. "I need to get some things measured before my final experiment of the day." He looked around and groaned. "There's no—god, I need a watch, what time even is it?" He looked back at you. "Yes—I certainly need some quick help."
"Well, that sounds like a job for a lab assistant." You reached for a drawer and found that you now instinctively knew where he kept his gloves. You smiled to yourself and pulled a pair on. "Where do I start?"
You stood in front of your mirror, turning this way and that as you studied yourself with a small frown.
It was always hard to decide what to wear to holiday parties. Holiday parties were dumb, first of all. There was always some dumb game or drawing that unexpectedly happened that people had to do or watch. The food was usually mediocre. The drinks were oftentimes lukewarm and flat. You could always see it in people's eyes when they started counting down the time until they got home.
And yet there was always a performance one had to put on when attending parties. The first main obstacle being how you dressed.
You were fairly satisfied with the outfit you'd finally settled on. Sweater, slacks, shoes. Things that started with S as an outfit could lead you to no wrongs. It fit you, it looked good, you were fine.
So why were you still nervous?
That was a dumb question, you thought as you started up the car and drove towards Hastings. You know exactly why you're nervous, you fool, it's because of the gift wrapped up in that jacket of yours.
In the backset, covered by your jacket, was your present for Calvin. It was wrapped in deep red wrapping paper with little dogs and Santa Clauses running across. Dog chasing Santa. Santa chasing dog. You chasing nerves.
He would like it, you told yourself. He would like the bow and the present and he would love it because you had tried. Was trying enough for him? He, who tried and excelled in so many brilliant ways?
You wanted to bang your head against the steering wheel. Now was not the time to lose it. You could always cry away your feelings once you got home.
Hmm. Alcohol at home. The thought soothed you as you stepped out of your vehicle into the cool night.
Despite the chill outside, Hastings was lively and well-lit. There was music playing somewhere, and the cafeteria had been arranged differently, giving way to seating to the side and a dance floor of sorts in the middle, which a few people were surprisingly engaging in. You discreetly dropped your present off on the Secret Santa table and glanced around the room for any sign of Calvin, but the only person you located was Marion, who was dancing with Rory. She grinned at you as he spun her around, and you gave her a thumbs up. Christmas miracles did happen.
You found Calvin only because he found you. You caught each other's eye from across the room and you stiffened, straightening slightly and restraining the urge to wave. You furiously fought back the nerves as he got closer, smiling that wobbly and lovely smile at you.
He looked good tonight. So good it made your chest hurt. He'd done something a little different with his hair, slightly more curled yet still neat, and he wore a neat, nice suit in a deep jeweled tone.
"Hi." He said, a complimentary greeting.
"Hi." You said back, a complimentary response. "Get here safe?"
"I'm here." He was standing very, very close, and both of his hands were shoved in his pockets, which was funny, because he normally didn't do that. "I took a bus."
"No running today?"
"I was carrying cargo. Couldn't let it get damaged."
"Ah, right." You nodded to the Secret Santa table. "It's a colorful haul. Looks like Santa came early."
"Santa Claus is not real, but people's effort is."
"I mean… some of it likely can't be called effort, right?" You said as you shot him a look. "I think some people are going to get some great garbage stuffers tonight."
Calvin snorted lowly. Something about it was more distant than usual, which only made the anxiety in your chest spike.
"… everything alright?" You asked quietly.
"What? Yes, of course it is." Calvin blinked down at you. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"You seem… I don't know. Off."
"I am a bit apprehensive," Calvin admitted. "and I don't like loud gatherings like this."
"Yeah, I hear you." You sighed. "I was just fantasizing about being at home and having a drink and, like, relaxing, y'know?"
"That sounds nice," he said softly. "I could go for that kind of thing right now too."
You would be welcome. You thought quietly, but before the thought could leave you, another sharp and fateful tap to a microphone drew everyone's attention to the front of the room.
"Alright, everyone, well. I know it certainly isn't Christmas yet, but tonight we're having a very Hastings Christmas!" Your boss, who had clearly been drinking, was smiling as he stared at everyone. "We've got a table over there of Secret Santa presents. Everyone was instructed to write their recipient's names on the gift somewhere, and to write their own names inside the packaging or gift, so it should be easy for everyone to find their own gift and know who gave it to them." He waved a hand. "Aside from that, we'll have a few fun games to play throughout, but I know everyone's been excited for the presents, so—get at 'em!"
There was a flurry of motion not unlike pigeons descending down upon seeds. You and Calvin stood in the corner of the room, blinking as people rummaged through the pile of presents as if on a treasure hunt, people eventually flaking off as they found what was addressed to them.
You glanced up at Calvin in that moment of observation, watching his face. His long, pretty eyelashes, the curve of his jaw, the steady bob of his throat as he swallowed. You had never been so nervous and so hopeful about a reaction in your life, you thought, which was strange.
Or maybe it wasn't so strange. You were rather endeared by Calvin Evans, after all.
"Should we…?" Calvin gestured, and you nodded, following him. You searched around, finding your present to Calvin, and you turned to him.
"This one has your name," you said with all the nonchalance you could muster. "here you go."
"Thank you." He murmured, his hands closing delicately around your present. A moment or two of searching later, and you found a present with your name on it. Simple candy-cane-stripe paper wrapped around something rectangular, tied with silver ribbon. A smile ghosted over your face at the wrapping before you stepped back from the table and caught Calvin's eye.
The man was searching around the cafeteria with a vaguely scrunched nose. When you called his name, his eyes moved to yours, and you jerked your head towards the doors.
"Wanna go somewhere quieter?"
The front hall of Hastings was quiet, unlike the cafeteria. The two of you settled on the nearby stairs, illuminated by the decorations, gifts in your laps as you sat in a simple silence.
"This is a lot." You said after a moment.
"What is?"
"All of it. Christmas."
Calvin hummed. His arm brushed against yours as he leaned back with a slow sigh.
"This has been… a very good Christmas season for me," He said quietly. "because for once, I've not felt entirely alone during it."
Your heart gave a little tap dance in your chest at that. "I'm glad I've been making it better."
"You don't even know how much better." Calvin swallowed noticeably, eyelids fluttering slightly as he looked down at his lap and opened his mouth, stumbling over his words. "I just—it means—I—"
"It's alright." Your hand landed over his for a moment, and you both paused as your eyes met. You smiled at him, searched his expression.
"I get it," you whispered. "and I'm happy you're here with me."
"… yeah," he said, voice low and thick. "me too."
"I… we should—" You ripped your gaze away, down to the present. "We, should, uh—"
"Right. Yes." Calvin straightened slightly, clearing his throat. "On three?"
You smiled a little. "Of course. One… two…"
"Three." Calvin finished for you, and both of you tore into the presents.
Calvin opened presents like he was operating on a patient. You would have to teach him how to properly unwrap. Your attention, surprisingly, was ripped from Calvin when your eyes fell on your gift.
It was a notebook—sleek and expensive-looking, your initials on the front. As you flipped the first page open dazedly, you noticed familiar handwriting, tentative and neat on the first page.
"For my note-taker, my assistant, my culinary instructor, my listener, and the one who has reminded me this month that for all the loneliness I have suffered, it has all been worth it to know you."
Calvin
You jerked your head up at the exact same time that Calvin's head whipped up.
"It was you—" You both started saying, before you both stopped and stared at each other.
Calvin was cradling a watch in his hand. He'd needed a new one, of course. He told you two weeks ago that his old one had broken on a random day and he'd been completely distraught since. You'd gone to great lengths to research this one, and those lengths had gone far, especially with the quote on the back of the watch.
You must never be fearful of what you are doing when it is right.
You had a note in there. You knew it was simple, sweet. "To the man who is brilliant, smart, funny, and interesting in every way. Thank you for entertaining and caring about me."
The realization clicked into place very slow and very sweet.
You had gotten each other as a Secret Santa.
You began to laugh. One second it was giggles and the next it was soundless laughter, laughing so hard that tears sprang to your eyes. Or maybe the tears were because you loved this gift and you loved the man next to you.
"Why are you—" Calvin was laughing now, too. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because—" You wiped a tear from your eye. "Because this is so funny and you are so amazing and I love you and this gift so much—"
"You love me?" Calvin stared at you, lips parting.
Your laughter hitched, your breath stalling in your lungs. Your fingers clutched tight around the notebook in your lap, and you bit down on your lip as you managed a slow nod.
It was like a dam had broken inside of Calvin. His shoulders eased as a breath slid from his lips like it had been waiting for permission.
"That's—that's really good," he managed. "because I am quite positive that I love you too—"
You leaned forward and kissed him.
He was warm, and he smelled even better up close. His hand was cupping at your cheek and your neck, thumb along your jaw, tilting his head with a low, rumbling sound.
You both pulled back from the kiss. "Come to Christmas Eve," you panted. "with my family? Please?"
"Okay," Calvin agreed, and you dove back into each other again.
You were making out with Calvin Evans on the staircase of a building with an incredible Christmas gift in your lap and you were positive this was the greatest Christmas party ever.
"I'm guessing you like it, then?" He murmured between kisses. "I was—I was scared, I think, worried that you wouldn't like it—"
"I love it. I love it so much, Calvin, you don't even know how much it means to me." You shook your head, grinning as you peppered small little kisses all across his face. "So brilliant and observant, you know that?"
"I love this too. I've gotta—honey, hold on, I have to—" He was torn between continuing to kiss you and wrapping the watch around his left wrist. "The quote's so—how did you even—?"
"Research." You said smugly against his lips.
Calvin groaned softly. "That sounds… very hot when you say that." He kissed you again.
The two of you leaned back after a few moments, sprawled on the stairs. You would have to shower later, of course, you didn't trust where your coworker's shoes had been, but right now you were on cloud nine and nothing else mattered.
"… you're very hard to buy for, you know that?" Calvin murmured, playing with your hand.
"You are too," you protested. "I mean, what was I supposed to get, soaps? It took me forever to pinpoint the right—"
Calvin laughed and shushed you, kissing your knuckles. "I am joking with you," he murmured. "I enjoyed shopping with you. A little too much, actually."
You stared at him for a moment. "… what does that mean?"
Calvin glanced over at you, searching your face. "… spend Christmas with me?" He asked softly. "Please?"
A slow smile spread over your face. "Of course I will. Absolutely."
"Good." He rubbed your arm up and down. "I ended up buying you lots of presents."
Your eyebrows shot up. "… I did too. For you."
"No shit?"
Calvin swearing took you off guard, but you giggled and nodded, and he smiled and kissed you again, and for once, everything was right in the world.
"Oh, I mean it." He said when he leaned back from you, studying his new watch and then looking like you like you were worth billions. "This has been my best Christmas ever."
"Merry Christmas, Calvin." You said as you brushed your thumb along his cheeks.
He shivered slightly, but leaned into your touch. "Merry Christmas." He repeated, lower. His eyes moved to your lips again.
"Do you think I have more time to show my appreciation for the present?" He asked hopefully.
You smiled. "I don't think we'll be missed."
"Good." A hand pulled you closer by the sweater, and you thanked the Christmas spirits for blessing you with the hottest chemist alive. "I think I have a lot to thank you for."
"Merry Christmas indeed." You said with a giggle.
His lips closed over yours again, and in the crook of the Hastings building's stairway, the two of you pressed together, close and warm and happy, and celebrated new love and the right kind of connection the Christmas way.
A/N part 2: Guys I am sooo soooo insanely happy I got this done but also DAMN! So much writing! I wrote most of this today!
Thank you for all the support in 2025. This is the first year in a while that I've put my writing out there, so to see all the support and love pouring in means a whole lot. Thank you all for reading and engaging :) I'll see you all in 2026!! Much love!!
(come talk to me here or on twitter @/lostglassguitar)
hope you do not mind the tags everyone: @userpullman @theres-a-bea @lewmagoo
here i am dear Lost, with the same enthusiasm as usual. i started reading this during new year's day after watching a movie, it was 2am i guess -- i got eepy and i promised myself i would've got back on track tin the morning, so I did. i cannot hide that i shed some tears because this fic touched some chords deep inside of me, probably due to the fact that i felt so close, in terms of attitude and personality of the reader which bled into this. so, thank you because while i was weeping i remembered how lucky i am to be made this way even because i am way too much observant when it comes to gifts, i remember everything and each detail with manic precision…sometimes it scares me.
furthermore, apart from this huge premise, let's dive into my favourite moments:
You blinked a little. That couldn't really be healthy, could it? You studied him from the corner of your eye for a moment—he looked healthy enough. Pretty, really, with that shaped nose and the vaguest thoughtful frown on his face at all times, like everything was a mystery to him. (the fact that the reader worried about his eating habit was so sweet. well, knowing that he was used to eat nuts 365 days a year would've got me worried as well)
"I want to try," you continued after a moment. "I want to do good, especially during Christmas. Gifts shouldn't mean nothing, you know? They shouldn't be a pointless workplace exercise, either. Secret Santas are stupid sometimes. Sometimes you barely know your coworkers, and you're, what, supposed to buy them a present? Just for fun? Just because? If I exist in someone's space, I want to know them before I buy them something or create something for them. It doesn't feel complete or right otherwise." (this is the part where you lost me and you got me tearing up. i felt deeply connected to it. i would never gift something without subtly asking for more information about the other person's interests and tastes)
You laughed. "Don't let me stop you, Mr. Genius. Dig in." Calvin ate with enthusiasm, which encouraged you. You also could not remember the last time you'd shared a meal with someone, so to sit across from a very nice man and speak with him about both foolish and interesting things was really, incredibly, delightful. (this passage brought my mind back to the series, the xmas dinner into the institute. don't ask why, it was delightful how the reader called him by that nickname)
"The thing that made this place nice was you, you silly man, but I like it." You took a glance around and looked at him. "Do you like it?" "I do." He said quietly. "I did it for myself, too. I just… didn't realize I needed it until you." (this one was soooooo cheesy that got me grinning like a fool. cheesy and awesome, just a beautiful statement coming from him)
"Ah, right." You nodded to the Secret Santa table. "It's a colorful haul. Looks like Santa came early." "Santa Claus is not real, but people's effort is." (how much i LOVED this one, i cannot describe it!)
i really loved the exchange of lines they had when Calvin asked the reader for some help in the laboratory, same goes with the moment of intimacy they had while unwrapping the presents. truth to be told, i knew exactly what the reader would've gifted him with BUT i totally forgot about the reader's one hehe in the end, this one was so good that got me so bad. tysm for including me in the tags, i really appreciated it. keep up the absolute stunning work <3 HAPPY NEW YEAR!
oh my goodness binz ur seriously the best <33 full review is such a blessing aughhh!!! thank you so very much for the love, I am so honored that this fic could connect to you in that way <3 this one's for all the thoughtful gift givers out there who are ever so thoughtful with their process!!
thank you so much for your little thoughts on everything too!! you are so good at catching many of the little details I put into here and it makes me feel so seen. I'm glad you could enjoy this so thoroughly :) and of COURSE you are welcome for the tag, you're such a huge supporter and it means so much to me!! happy new year!!
summary: Christmastime brings a dreaded holiday workplace job of a Secret Santa. When you get the not-so-popular recluse chemist Calvin Evans as your Secret Santa, you set out on a mission to find the right gift for him. Things totally do not get complicated.
AO3 LINK
contains: fluff, minor swearing, idiots falling in love, Calvin being autistic (he just like me), general Christmas silliness. If I've forgotten anything, please tell me!
word count: 8.6k
A/N: wow I'm really sliding into home base at the last second haha... this is for the event a very lewmagoo holiday! Everyone send some incredible love to all those who have done submissions, and to Leah, who put the event together.
Happy New Year's everyone!! Hope you enjoy <3
dividers by @/chateaubarnes
Every year, one of your greatest nightmares stretched into the holidays, filling in the space, blotting out the gaps, consuming your every waking moment.
This great nightmare was a very simple, plain thing; workplaces loved doing dumb things for the holidays. Notoriously, this came in the form of Secret Santas.
You had never ever ever understood the appeal. Workplaces seemed to love the idea of forcing people who already saw one another every day to make torturous small talk, when they could be doing anything else to prepare for the already busy holiday season. It wasn't productive for anyone, really, but your workplace, Hastings Research Institute, seemed eager about this holiday season. You supposed you would have to grit your teeth and go along for the ride.
The initiation to this time of frustration came on a clear December 4th. Everyone was gathered in the cafeteria, where people sat in their normal places for lunch. You normally clustered on the end of a table where similar secretaries and lab assistant sat, one elbow hanging off, so you sat there, blending into the crowd as you normally did and excited chatter flowed in one ear and out the other. After everyone was seated, a sharp tap to the microphone up front drew everyone's attention to the front of the room.
"Hello, everybody. Good afternoon." The man up front gave a short, small smile at everyone. "I'm sure some of us aren't very eager to be wrenched away from our important work, but this holiday season is an important time. It's a time where we can all remember what a team we are here at Hastings, and how we work best when we work together."
You knew of at least three people at your table who secretly hated and bad mouthed each other, in secret, frequently. If this place was a team, you were as good as the worst sports team out there.
"This year, as I'm sure you're all aware, we'll be doing our annual Secret Santa!" The man raised up a large bowl. "We've gathered everybody's names into this bowl. The rules are simple, as always—draw a name, keep it to yourself, and get a secret gift for that person. On our holiday party before Christmas, everyone will get their gifts from their Secret Santa!"
Ah, yes, so simple. How convenient that he did not mention how difficult it was if you got someone you didn't know at all. You were already mentally preparing yourself for some smelly soap to go straight into your garbage bin at home.
People formed a line, called table by table to retrieve little slips of paper. Everyone in Hastings seemed determinedly set to their task, which surprised you. It was your first Christmas there, and despite getting to know people here and there, you clearly hadn't learned enough about them, because even the guy who never said thank you when you brought his group coffee looked excited to do this.
You didn't look at the paper you received until you returned to your seat. Paper half-crumpled in your hand, you rolled it open and cupped it secretly to the side as you read over the name.
Calvin Evans
Your head slowly raised.
Oh no.
You craned your head as nonchalantly as possible to figure out if the man was even there. After a moment, you spotted him, sitting as close to the door and as far from others as possible.
Calvin Evans, the ghost of the Hastings Research Institute.
You had spoken to him twice—only brief interactions, a "Good morning" and an "Excuse me" that could hardly constitute as true conversation. You had seen him plenty more times, of course. He would approach the building in sweaty gray joggers on the dot every morning as you sat in your car and told yourself to stand the hell up and go inside.
He was revered among your coworkers because he funded the place. Because he was brilliant—silently light-years past the work everyone else did.
He was hated among your coworkers because, apparently, he was weird.
Maybe he's just introverted, you thought as the line finished and you stuffed the paper into your pocket. This was, of course, wishful thinking, but a girl could dream.
"Did you get someone you liked?" Your coworker nudged your arm—a nice lady, Marion, who was always pleasant to talk to and normally listened when you told her how you were. "I got that handsome man I talk about all the time."
"Rory?"
"Yes." She grinned. "Isn't it fate? I'll have to think of something nice to give him—not overly romantic, but something that says I notice, y'know?"
"I'm sure he'll appreciate whatever you give him, Marion." You watched people begin to file out. Apparently in the midst of your thoughts you had missed the closing words from your boss. You would get all the details later.
"It can't help to be thoughtful." Marion put a hand delicately over her heart and batted her eyelids. "After all, isn't that what a man desires?"
You knew she was joking, but something about it still made your nose wrinkle. "If I ever start acting like that, poison me."
Marion gasped your name dramatically. "What? Oh, come on, you would never!"
"I know I wouldn't." You stood. "Which is why it would be concerning if I ever did."
You faced a very dangerous obstacle ahead of you. About four weeks to Christmas, and you had absolutely zero plan.
You laid out your options a few days later, scribbling idly on scrap paper.
Option 1: A safe gift. A generic gift. Some kind of candy, or nuts, something easily disposable… yet disappointing and entirely unexciting.
Option 2: Something science related. Like a book or a decor item—something easy and job related, something you'd already heard others planning to do. Yet, still, not very personal.
Option 3: Actually try. Try to get close enough to the living enigma of the Institute in order to get him a good Secret Santa gift.
You'd never been one to turn down a challenge. Option 3 it was.
You got your first chance at infiltration later that day. Deliveries were bi-weekly unless there was some particular accident that cleared supplies from the place. The delivery driver came late, flustered and annoyed because of something happening in his own workspace. You sympathized with him—the holidays got to everyone—and offered to help carry boxes around. This was a blessing, eventually, because after working through the load, you finally arrived to the final box. The box to be delivered to Calvin Evans.
"You've been working so hard the past hour, you could always let someone else grab it." A secretary—Marie? Maddie?—lounged over her desk, watching you stoop to pick up the box. "God knows those boys in the lab could use a walk from time to time."
"I've got it," you said. "I really don't mind, helps me test my memory."
"If you insist."
Calvin Evans' lab was a bit further removed from the others, down a long corridor as a door that others seemed to steer around if they needed to pass it. There was a handwritten sign plastered on the door talking about DO NOT DISTURB, but both for the sake of your research and your aching arms, you managed to knock on the door.
The door swung open around three seconds after you knocked. The man in front of you was noticeably taller than you had ever really taken note of, his hair short and slightly curled in front of his face as the nicest blue eyes you'd ever seen focused straight on you.
"Hi." You greeted.
"… hello." Calvin blinked at you, then the box. "It's Thursday already." This was not a question.
"Yes, it is." You hefted the box a little higher. "Apologies that I'm not the normal delivery man, he got… indisposed, I guess? Something about route mix-ups."
"You've managed to deliver the correct box competently to my door, so I see no reason why it makes any difference." Calvin blinked a few times, not exactly making eye contact but clearly trying to look at you nonetheless. "You're…" He said your name slowly. "… right?"
You nodded. "Yeah. That's me."
"Come in." He offered suddenly, stepping aside.
Though you questioned if this had ever happened before, and if you were perhaps the first person to see the inside of this lab since he had taken residence, you accepted the invitation with a gracious nod and stepped inside. You had seen all the labs in Hastings except for his, and it was… not what you expected. Sure, there were the normal things—beakers and a chalkboard with scribbled notes in handwriting you could slightly catch, but there was also a mess. An abominable mess. And a million crumbs that seemed to be related to nuts.
You stood there for a moment, vaguely bewildered, but Calvin brushed past you. "Come, come here, I have somewhere you can set that."
"Of course." You followed him to the clearest counter, watching him absentmindedly brush aside nut shells. "Do you… want any help organizing them?" Organizing your whole lab, perhaps? You'd worked as some mix of secretary and lab assistant over your year-ish of working at Hastings, which led you into the familiarity of how the other labs were organized. It would be easier, probably, considering Calvin's lab was all his own, but—
"Don't you have anywhere else to be?" Calvin asked. He crooked an eyebrow in your direction, and you faltered, before he barreled on, suddenly switching gear. "Actually. Yes. I… yes. Your help would be appreciated."
You stared at him for a moment and then nodded. You were… afraid to touch anything. Or move, really. Every purpose and reason you were there had sort of been thrown out the window. Your eyes flicked over everything, slowly, slowly, before you took in a deep breath.
You had a mission, right? You had to focus. Stupid, annoying, dickish Secret Santa.
"Do you like nuts?" You blurted.
Calvin looked at you. "Are you being sarcastic?" He asked, a vague twitch to the corner of his mouth.
The switch of expression relaxed you a little. You pushed back slowly as Calvin opened up the box of supplies. "I suppose I'm curious why such a precise chemist has scatterings of nuts all over his lab."
"You're calling me a slob."
"I think it's funny."
"Hmm." He had started you passing you things, and you were mindlessly taking them and setting them aside without really realizing the rhythm the two of you had fallen into. "I do like nuts. They're my lunch."
"Every day?"
"Every day."
You blinked a little. That couldn't really be healthy, could it? You studied him from the corner of your eye for a moment—he looked healthy enough. Pretty, really, with that shaped nose and the vaguest thoughtful frown on his face at all times, like everything was a mystery to him.
"Are you really that constantly at work that you can hardly pause for lunch?"
Calvin made a motion like a shrug as the two of you finished unpacking the box. "Science never stops."
"The human body does." You scratched at your neck slightly. "Isn't the recommendation for calories per day somewhere around 2000 calories for men? I don't think nuts really get you that high up there."
He frowned slightly at you. "I don't think—"
"Oh, what else, you also need proteins and enzymes and vitamins, especially since we are in the winter months." You started ticking off on your fingers. "Vitamin C, protein, minerals like iron and zinc…"
Calvin was just staring at you. "Are you… suggesting I change my eating habits?"
"I'm just saying that Hastings Research Institute's best chemist should have the right diet to keep him up and running. We wouldn't want all this—" You gestured to him. "—to break down, would we?"
He slowly shook his head. "… no. We wouldn't."
"Glad you agree." You gestured to the set-out items. "Now, let's work on these?"
There wasn't much conversation that passed between the two of you for a time. You were pretty sure you'd thrown Calvin off a little, but he didn't seem to mind it, or you, which surprised you. For about a year, all you had heard about him was gossipy whispers about his weird ways and aversion to other people.
Maybe he was just lonely, you thought, watching him from the corner of your eye as he lined up beakers in his supply room.
When you had finished helping him organize his supplies, you cleared your throat in the vague silence. "Well. There you are. If there's nothing else I can do, then I can leave."
He said your name, which made you pause. When he stepped closer, his eyes were very focused on you.
"Do you have specific recommendations for how to improve my diet?" He asked bluntly.
You stared up at him, then smiled. "Are you asking for more help?"
Something like a flustered expression passed over his face, brief as a flash, but he tilted his head. "Are you offering more help?"
You hummed, considering. "Tuesday night. I will come to your house and make you dinner, and we will talk about balanced diets." You stuck your hand out, unsure where this boldness had come from, yet unwilling to back down now. "Deal?"
Calvin smiled, just a little bit, and shook your hand. "Deal."
Three weeks to Christmas, and you had all your holiday shopping done.
Christmas Eve, you would spend with your family. This was the same every year, on the dot, no matter what. They lived close, yet you didn't see them too often, everyone wrapped up in their own life, so you relished the yearly chance to be close, even for a night. It was one night you could at least not worry so much about everything else.
You had a bit more money this year, too. Working at Hastings provided you with a decent enough salary that you could purchase some things you truly wanted to buy, which included Christmas gifts. The one problem was that your car was tiny, so your entire back seat was mostly crammed with the gifts you'd bought.
Calvin Evans found you two hours after you arrived at work, hovering all tall in his crisp white lab coat as he watched you slap at a typewriter like it had insulted you.
"Hi." He said after a moment.
You jumped slightly as you spun to him. "Goodness—what is wrong with you? How in the world did you sneak up on me, you're massive!" You gestured to him.
"You seemed focused on… assaulting a typewriter." Calvin said, tone somewhat teasing as his gaze moved between you and the machine.
"Yes, well, it's not working, so maybe it deserves a smack or two."
"Or seven."
"Hey." You frowned at him ruefully. "Can I do something for you, Dr. Evans?"
He straightened. "I was… wondering when you were planning to come over. To my house."
"Oh." You smacked your lips. "Well, after work, I have to go buy groceries, so I'll buy those and then come over."
"Okay." Calvin paused for a moment. "May I come with you?"
You stared at him for a moment and tilted your head. "You could, if you would like." You smiled. "Is there a reason why?"
"Well, I don't drive, first of all."
"You don—"
"I believe it would be more beneficial if I were able to lead you to my house more directly," Calvin continued. "and I am also curious what choices you'll make towards dinner. If the process of a good diet starts at a grocery store, I believe I should start there with you as well."
The way you were going, you were pretty sure you were going to get him a cookbook for his Secret Santa gift. Either way, there was something endearing about the linear logic of the chemist and the way he seemed so solid and certain, so you nodded.
"Alright, then. Once we get off work, we can go. Sound good?"
"Yes." Calvin rounded on his heel, then paused and gave you a little smile and a thumbs-up.
You tried to ignore the dumb smile over your own face and the little thump in your chest.
When Calvin bent his way into your car later, you saw him cast a curious glance over his shoulder at the numerous Christmas presents in the back.
"For my family," you explained. "I actually have money this year, so… I kind of went a little overboard?"
"Do you like buying gifts for others?" Calvin asked as he fastened his seatbelt.
You blew out a small breath as you pulled out from Hastings' parking lot. You don't know the half of it. "I don't find it easy. But I do like it."
"Finding a path to the heart." Calvin muttered.
You snorted. "Yeah, exactly. Good gifts are… simple, right? Something that makes that connection between people. That shows them you noticed." You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. "But I still find it so hard, you know? How do you balance the materialistic with the, uh, idealistic? Or—or with a possible experience? It's so easy to just wrap something, but what if what someone needs or wants is bigger and less solid than wrapping?"
Calvin remained silent, though he hummed softly. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and found that he was simply watching you, taking in all your words.
"I want to try," you continued after a moment. "I want to do good, especially during Christmas. Gifts shouldn't mean nothing, you know? They shouldn't be a pointless workplace exercise, either. Secret Santas are stupid sometimes. Sometimes you barely know your coworkers, and you're, what, supposed to buy them a present? Just for fun? Just because? If I exist in someone's space, I want to know them before I buy them something or create something for them. It doesn't feel complete or right otherwise."
Silence lingered for a long, long moment. Then Calvin spoke.
"If the amount of presents in this car means anything, I think you are very good about giving people the right gifts."
Your shoulders eased marginally.
"I think you have a more optimistic and passionate look on it than some people." He shifted. "Christmas doesn't carry the same connotations for everyone."
"What does it carry for you?" You asked quietly.
He paused for a moment, staring out the window instead of at you, hands curling and uncurling in his lap. You pulled into the grocery store parking lot and turned off the car, yet did not move, waiting for his answer.
"I'm usually alone for Christmas." Calvin said quietly after a long silence. He was factual about it, yet you saw a new crease between his eyebrows, something that marred his pretty face with evidence of a pained past you had no idea about. "I would… I would like to put thought into gifts, yet I have very little people to achieve that with. Christmas feels very distant from me. Working is easier."
You looked at him for a moment and then extended your hand, resting it on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you've not had good experiences so far in your life," you said. "but this year, I'm here, and I'm going to teach you how to eat well, and we're going to buy a garland and put it up in your house, and we're going to sing along to Christmas songs."
Calvin blinked at you. "… thank you." he said, then— "In my house?"
"In your house."
He sighed. "Lovely." His fingers brushed over your own as you pulled your hand away and he reached for it at the same time. There was a hesitance there, a sort of in-between, before he exited the vehicle. "Let's go, then."
You had a small little list in your head. Both of ingredients and the plan. The Plan. Trademarked. Underlined three times. Calling it something other than Secret Santa Present made it feel more important, more declared.
And it was important. Because Jesus Christ, Calvin Evans was indeed the world's loneliest person. He was alone, and nobody should ever feel alone on Christmas, so you had decided without really deciding that you would be the guide to the greatest Christmas ever. And also so you could figure out what to get him for the Secret Santa.
The grocery store run was pleasant and strangely domestic. Calvin trailed after you like a lost puppy, never too close and certainly never too far. You talked nearly the whole time, your mouth running words, but you talked about food. You talked about nutrition and balance and flavors and how things did and didn't go together. Sometimes what you talked about went into your cart and sometimes it didn't, but Calvin paid attention the whole time, and if you stopped talking you would start feeling self conscious, so you kept going.
By the time the two of you were checking food out, you found yourself staring at the rising price of the food with an increasingly anxious look.
"Move." Calvin murmured near your ear. You blinked up at him, confused, just in time to watch him pass money to the cashier.
"Calvin—" You hissed.
"Don't worry about it. You're grabbing food for me." He insisted as he looked down at you. "Let me pay for my food, yeah?"
You shut up pretty quick under that firm look.
Calvin led you with perfect geographical instructions into his driveway. His house was lovely—simple yet well-sized in a lived-in neighborhood. Had you not known he was alone in life, you would've assumed he would be married with two children and a pet in this kind of house.
"Let me take some of those." He scooped up bags of groceries and helped usher you into his house, which was neat and plainly decorated. Lived in, but not breathed in. You noted a record player that you passed by on the way in and quirked a lip thoughtfully as the two of you began unpacking groceries.
"I saw a record player." You looked at him. "A fan of music?"
"Oh." He blinked, then nodded. "Yes, I am, I like Charlie Parker."
"You're a jazz fan?" This delighted you, though you couldn't put your finger on why. When Calvin nodded, seemingly puzzled by your grin, you just smiled wider and giggled as you lined ingredients up for dinner. "I love jazz, too. You wanna put a record on? We could use some music while we cook."
Charlie Parker's complex harmonies floated around the two of you, enveloped in the warm light of Christmas spirit. Calvin helped you chop vegetables and mix ingredients, watching with rapt attention as you rattled off to him steps in creating tonight's meal—soup and homemade bread, because a way to win someone's heart over was obviously with homemade bread. His attention was easily the thing that startled you the most—though he often didn't make eye contact and his responses could be blunt and unapologetic, it was clear Calvin Evans was a man who took in every word that was said.
Once, you had heard someone describe him as haughty. A holier-than-thou scientist who thought he was so much better than everyone else.
Now, as you watched him push bread into his oven, a concentrated crinkle to his brow, you thought that he was better than everyone, but he certainly wasn't haughty over it. He was lonely and thoughtful and brilliant, and you'd only properly known him for about a week now.
"Now what?"
You were shaken from your thoughts to find Calvin watching you as he dried off his hands.
"Well," you hummed. "The soup is gonna simmer, the bread needs to bake… we don't have anything else to do for a while."
"Would you like to talk?" Calvin asked quietly.
You stared at him. "Would you like to?"
"I wouldn't offer—" He stepped forward, a little closer than normal, and looked down at you. "—if I didn't want to."
"Garland, then," you said, weaker than you wanted to be. "and talking."
Calvin didn't even need a ladder. He just needed your direction as he stretched up high and explained, breathlessly, his latest science project to you.
"I've been going over things in my head repeatedly. Trying to think of new routes, you know? New directions. Everything in chemistry may seem like it has been done already, but that is not true. There's always new directions to be stretching, as long as the mind allows it."
"To the left a little for that hook."
"Thank you. So," he inhaled. "I've gone back to the basics, really. On what we think of as the modern truth of chemistry. When you think of other great scientific discoveries such as those by Galileo, he did not make those discoveries by simply cruising along and assuming all modern assumptions were correct. Amino acids, for example—those are such a basis for the modern day, but what if it's more complicated, more immense than modern scientists imagine? I'm trying to… expand from that. Combinations, equations, trying to send out in all directions in the hopes that I snag onto something."
"It sounds rather a lot like faith to me," you said curiously. "but I like your reasoning. Do you really think that by simply casting some kind of line out, you'll get a tug?"
"I can't hope for anything but." Calvin finished attaching the garland and finally turned to you, brushing askew strands of hair away from his face. "When science seems to have hit some kind of dead end, that's when you know something is wrong."
The two of you lounged on his couch for a while and just… talked. You couldn't remember the last time you had gotten to know someone, and from the clunky yet endearing way Calvin navigated the conversation, you knew it was the same for him. He was incredibly intelligent in more than just chemistry—he talked about his neighbors, all Black Americans in a world that rejected them. He talked about the intricacies of public law that he had dipped his toe into at one point. He talked about how religion was interwoven into so much that it made people blind, especially considering science.
You liked to hear him speak. You thought that you could listen to him speak forever, with that warm, intelligent voice with a cadence like warm water.
Just as the two of you were cutting the bread into slices, you remembered the mission all over again. It had flitted from your mind in this warm haze of a growing friendship, but now it was back, and you cleared your throat as you set the table.
"So," you started casually. "do you have any Christmas wishes, then?"
"I don't exactly have anyone to give me gifts." Calvin remarked.
"If you did, though." You glanced up at him. "Or if you're buying things for yourself. Anything on the plate?"
Calvin considered this question for a moment as he ladled soup into his bowl. "I would like more casual clothes," he said. "for when I'm home. I also need a second workout outfit."
"You mean your 'I'm running from work to home twice in a day' outfit?" You asked, lips pulled into an amused expression.
He shot you a look. "Yes. That one."
"I think more than one pair of consistently sweat-covered clothing is likely a good idea if you like smelling decent." You said with a nod.
Calvin was giving you a look, but that stopped the instant he ate the first spoonful of soup. You saw his eyes flick to the bowl, then to you, as his eyelids fluttered slightly.
You smiled a little, tentative yet hopeful. "Good?"
"This is…" He ate another bite. "Delicious."
You laughed. "Don't let me stop you, Mr. Genius. Dig in."
Calvin ate with enthusiasm, which encouraged you. You also could not remember the last time you'd shared a meal with someone, so to sit across from a very nice man and speak with him about both foolish and interesting things was really, incredibly, delightful.
"Do you have no other wishes besides clothes?" You asked, poking softly at your mission. Your mission, your mission, was this entire dinner and trip and talk because of your mission, because you were trying to be a good coworker—?
"I like books. And music," Calvin said quietly. "I've tried to look for the last Charlie Parker record I don't have, but it's impossible to find."
"What kind of books do you like?"
"Fiction and nonfiction alike." Calvin dipped some bread into his soup and took in a breath like he hadn't eaten in days. "My favorite book is Great Expectations."
"That's a lovely book. It's been a few years since I've read it, though." You said with a nod. "Okay, okay, let me rephrase the question—do you read to escape or learn?"
Calvin blinked at you. "What?"
"Oftentimes when I ask people about their reading likes and habits, I notice that you can usually group a person on two sides—they read to escape life, or they read to learn."
"Can it not be both?"
"It can," you said. "but normally a person tends to lead. Nobody's ever right and straight in the middle. And it's not like there's a right or a wrong. It's just personality, you know?" You pointed to him with your spoon. "As I asked—escape or learn?"
"… learn," Calvin said after thinking. "I think. I always say that a good book never stops teaching you, y'know? Even a nonfiction book can teach you something, tell you something, give you a lesson or an idea or an out. I like learning."
You smiled a little. Endearing. "I do believe that's your science brain talking."
"I do believe," he repeated, half-teasing, half-mocking. "that you may be right. What about you, then?"
"Escape, mostly. I like fiction and stories. I like the lessons you can get from them, but I also like submerging into someone else's world and problems so I can get away from my own."
Calvin was studying you as you said that, all soft-eyed and quiet. His blue eyes didn't look so blue all the time, you had realized. They looked more brown now, though you knew it wasn't true. Either way, he was listening. This realization, though it had come and gone repeatedly and many times, continued to settle lower in your gut.
"What books do you like?" Calvin asked softly.
You responded in a mumble, something about stories that you never really had shared with anyone before, but he didn't make you feel dumb for it. He just nodded, smiling a little, as he finished his soup.
"I've heard of those." He folded his napkin onto the table. "I think I'll have to take a look at them, when I have some free time."
"Do you ever have free time?" This was the first time you'd ever thought of or experienced him outside of the lab. You realized you'd been thinking of this as an exception.
"That sounds like that one question." Calvin chuckled a little, the sound warming your stomach more than the soup had. "The, ah. 'If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?'."
You huffed. "What would your answer be to that question, then?"
"Of course I make a sound." Calvin said. "I'm a human, and very alive."
"What about the tree, then?"
He scooped up your bowls with a smile down at you. "I'm not a philosopher. I'm a chemist."
"Rude."
He laughed—actually laughed—for the first time, and you just frowned at his back as a million realizations crashed down onto you.
You were not merely doing this for the Secret Santa mission anymore.
One and a half weeks until Christmas.
You liked taking notes. It was an idle habit, but you liked carrying around a small notebook, something that could fit most places inside uniforms and clothing. Small notes, small doodles, average thoughts. You wrote a poem, you doodled a leaf, you did small diary entries, you wrote a grocery list. Your current notebook had been with you for the better part of three years, and thanks to the near-constant use, it was growing close to being finished.
Today, you returned to the four-page section devoted to the mission. Specifically, you were looking at page 3 of this section: POSSIBLE CALVIN GIFTS
-Charlie Parker record
-Great Expectations something?
-Another book of some kind
-Cooking supplies??
-Cookbook
-A coupon for me to cook him dinner I would do that for him anytime he asked actually never mind
-Something really personal that he really really wants.
You sighed and leaned back from the notebook, scrubbing at your face. The party was a week away and you were no closer to deciphering the heart of the man you'd spent every day talking to. You were blaming yourself for that, too. Despite trying to stay focused on what you had to do, every interaction with Calvin Evans turned into something more. Like the fact that he had a comfy chair in his lab that was great for you to rest your legs, or the fact that he had started eating actual lunch in the cafeteria at a table with you. He talked to you in murmurs about science and he never minded your presence, and you felt like an idiot because after everything, you were still going to be the worst Secret Santa to him ever.
The sound of your name made you jerk from your thoughts and slam your notebook shut in the same motion. Calvin stood over your shoulder, blinking curiously at you.
"Hi." You breathed.
"Hi." He repeated, tilting his head. "Could I… have the assistance of an experienced lab assistant?"
"Oh, I don't think we have any of those." You propped your head in a hand and shrugged. "You see, we're very low on intelligence here at Hastings."
"Is that so?" Calvin looked around, shoving an idle hand in his coat pocket. "That's very strange, I could have sworn there was a certain someone here that was incredibly intelligent."
"Hmm. You might've missed them."
Calvin shot you a look. "I don't think I did."
For some reason, you warmed a little. His hand brushed slightly against your back, and you were suddenly shooting up in your seat with a barely restrained squeak as you spoke.
"Wow, I think you've suddenly discovered a great candidate to help you, Dr. Evans! I would be ever so pleased to assist you."
If Calvin noticed how you had said it all in one breath, or that your face felt warmer than usual, he didn't comment on anything, just smiled.
"Wonderful. I appreciate your assistance."
When you pushed inside Calvin's lab, you stopped dead in your tracks.
The inside was clean. Organized. Orderly. Nut remnants swept away, beakers lined, notes organized and spread across counters in a way that wouldn't drive anyone crazy.
Not only was it clean, but there were Christmas lights hanging around the space.
Calvin Evans had fucking decorated.
Your mouth fell open. "Oh my god."
"Do you… like it?"
"Oh my god, Calvin!" You spun around, arms flung up in the air. "You fucking cleaned! Did you do this for me?"
"I…" The scientist suddenly looked very nervous as he closed the door and fidgeted with a pencil in his hands. "I thought that for all the time you spend in here now, you deserved a nice place."
"The thing that made this place nice was you, you silly man, but I like it." You took a glance around and looked at him. "Do you like it?"
"I do." He said quietly. "I did it for myself, too. I just… didn't realize I needed it until you."
You smiled at him. Big and grinning and heartfelt in a way that had been foreign to you for so long. You wanted to fling your arms around him and take all of him in—breathing, breathing, like nothing else mattered.
Still, you held yourself back. You were just friends. Guilt tugged at you, the idea that you were only friends anyways because of a Secret Santa thing. You'd tried not to think about after Christmas, if anything would be the same, or if he would suddenly reject you because of your likely terrible gift.
Maybe you were being silly. Or maybe you were just afraid of losing something you'd just gained.
You shoved the thought away and tried to focus on the present. "This is lovely. I'm glad I could… encourage you, you know? To do something like this."
Calvin nodded. His gaze was soft, lingering on you in a way that had been changing over the last couple of weeks.
"Thank you." He said.
"No, thank you." You said with a smile. "Now—is there anything I can do in here so I don't get accused of slacking?"
"Hmm." Calvin pressed his mouth together. "I need to get some things measured before my final experiment of the day." He looked around and groaned. "There's no—god, I need a watch, what time even is it?" He looked back at you. "Yes—I certainly need some quick help."
"Well, that sounds like a job for a lab assistant." You reached for a drawer and found that you now instinctively knew where he kept his gloves. You smiled to yourself and pulled a pair on. "Where do I start?"
You stood in front of your mirror, turning this way and that as you studied yourself with a small frown.
It was always hard to decide what to wear to holiday parties. Holiday parties were dumb, first of all. There was always some dumb game or drawing that unexpectedly happened that people had to do or watch. The food was usually mediocre. The drinks were oftentimes lukewarm and flat. You could always see it in people's eyes when they started counting down the time until they got home.
And yet there was always a performance one had to put on when attending parties. The first main obstacle being how you dressed.
You were fairly satisfied with the outfit you'd finally settled on. Sweater, slacks, shoes. Things that started with S as an outfit could lead you to no wrongs. It fit you, it looked good, you were fine.
So why were you still nervous?
That was a dumb question, you thought as you started up the car and drove towards Hastings. You know exactly why you're nervous, you fool, it's because of the gift wrapped up in that jacket of yours.
In the backset, covered by your jacket, was your present for Calvin. It was wrapped in deep red wrapping paper with little dogs and Santa Clauses running across. Dog chasing Santa. Santa chasing dog. You chasing nerves.
He would like it, you told yourself. He would like the bow and the present and he would love it because you had tried. Was trying enough for him? He, who tried and excelled in so many brilliant ways?
You wanted to bang your head against the steering wheel. Now was not the time to lose it. You could always cry away your feelings once you got home.
Hmm. Alcohol at home. The thought soothed you as you stepped out of your vehicle into the cool night.
Despite the chill outside, Hastings was lively and well-lit. There was music playing somewhere, and the cafeteria had been arranged differently, giving way to seating to the side and a dance floor of sorts in the middle, which a few people were surprisingly engaging in. You discreetly dropped your present off on the Secret Santa table and glanced around the room for any sign of Calvin, but the only person you located was Marion, who was dancing with Rory. She grinned at you as he spun her around, and you gave her a thumbs up. Christmas miracles did happen.
You found Calvin only because he found you. You caught each other's eye from across the room and you stiffened, straightening slightly and restraining the urge to wave. You furiously fought back the nerves as he got closer, smiling that wobbly and lovely smile at you.
He looked good tonight. So good it made your chest hurt. He'd done something a little different with his hair, slightly more curled yet still neat, and he wore a neat, nice suit in a deep jeweled tone.
"Hi." He said, a complimentary greeting.
"Hi." You said back, a complimentary response. "Get here safe?"
"I'm here." He was standing very, very close, and both of his hands were shoved in his pockets, which was funny, because he normally didn't do that. "I took a bus."
"No running today?"
"I was carrying cargo. Couldn't let it get damaged."
"Ah, right." You nodded to the Secret Santa table. "It's a colorful haul. Looks like Santa came early."
"Santa Claus is not real, but people's effort is."
"I mean… some of it likely can't be called effort, right?" You said as you shot him a look. "I think some people are going to get some great garbage stuffers tonight."
Calvin snorted lowly. Something about it was more distant than usual, which only made the anxiety in your chest spike.
"… everything alright?" You asked quietly.
"What? Yes, of course it is." Calvin blinked down at you. "Why wouldn't it be?"
"You seem… I don't know. Off."
"I am a bit apprehensive," Calvin admitted. "and I don't like loud gatherings like this."
"Yeah, I hear you." You sighed. "I was just fantasizing about being at home and having a drink and, like, relaxing, y'know?"
"That sounds nice," he said softly. "I could go for that kind of thing right now too."
You would be welcome. You thought quietly, but before the thought could leave you, another sharp and fateful tap to a microphone drew everyone's attention to the front of the room.
"Alright, everyone, well. I know it certainly isn't Christmas yet, but tonight we're having a very Hastings Christmas!" Your boss, who had clearly been drinking, was smiling as he stared at everyone. "We've got a table over there of Secret Santa presents. Everyone was instructed to write their recipient's names on the gift somewhere, and to write their own names inside the packaging or gift, so it should be easy for everyone to find their own gift and know who gave it to them." He waved a hand. "Aside from that, we'll have a few fun games to play throughout, but I know everyone's been excited for the presents, so—get at 'em!"
There was a flurry of motion not unlike pigeons descending down upon seeds. You and Calvin stood in the corner of the room, blinking as people rummaged through the pile of presents as if on a treasure hunt, people eventually flaking off as they found what was addressed to them.
You glanced up at Calvin in that moment of observation, watching his face. His long, pretty eyelashes, the curve of his jaw, the steady bob of his throat as he swallowed. You had never been so nervous and so hopeful about a reaction in your life, you thought, which was strange.
Or maybe it wasn't so strange. You were rather endeared by Calvin Evans, after all.
"Should we…?" Calvin gestured, and you nodded, following him. You searched around, finding your present to Calvin, and you turned to him.
"This one has your name," you said with all the nonchalance you could muster. "here you go."
"Thank you." He murmured, his hands closing delicately around your present. A moment or two of searching later, and you found a present with your name on it. Simple candy-cane-stripe paper wrapped around something rectangular, tied with silver ribbon. A smile ghosted over your face at the wrapping before you stepped back from the table and caught Calvin's eye.
The man was searching around the cafeteria with a vaguely scrunched nose. When you called his name, his eyes moved to yours, and you jerked your head towards the doors.
"Wanna go somewhere quieter?"
The front hall of Hastings was quiet, unlike the cafeteria. The two of you settled on the nearby stairs, illuminated by the decorations, gifts in your laps as you sat in a simple silence.
"This is a lot." You said after a moment.
"What is?"
"All of it. Christmas."
Calvin hummed. His arm brushed against yours as he leaned back with a slow sigh.
"This has been… a very good Christmas season for me," He said quietly. "because for once, I've not felt entirely alone during it."
Your heart gave a little tap dance in your chest at that. "I'm glad I've been making it better."
"You don't even know how much better." Calvin swallowed noticeably, eyelids fluttering slightly as he looked down at his lap and opened his mouth, stumbling over his words. "I just—it means—I—"
"It's alright." Your hand landed over his for a moment, and you both paused as your eyes met. You smiled at him, searched his expression.
"I get it," you whispered. "and I'm happy you're here with me."
"… yeah," he said, voice low and thick. "me too."
"I… we should—" You ripped your gaze away, down to the present. "We, should, uh—"
"Right. Yes." Calvin straightened slightly, clearing his throat. "On three?"
You smiled a little. "Of course. One… two…"
"Three." Calvin finished for you, and both of you tore into the presents.
Calvin opened presents like he was operating on a patient. You would have to teach him how to properly unwrap. Your attention, surprisingly, was ripped from Calvin when your eyes fell on your gift.
It was a notebook—sleek and expensive-looking, your initials on the front. As you flipped the first page open dazedly, you noticed familiar handwriting, tentative and neat on the first page.
"For my note-taker, my assistant, my culinary instructor, my listener, and the one who has reminded me this month that for all the loneliness I have suffered, it has all been worth it to know you."
Calvin
You jerked your head up at the exact same time that Calvin's head whipped up.
"It was you—" You both started saying, before you both stopped and stared at each other.
Calvin was cradling a watch in his hand. He'd needed a new one, of course. He told you two weeks ago that his old one had broken on a random day and he'd been completely distraught since. You'd gone to great lengths to research this one, and those lengths had gone far, especially with the quote on the back of the watch.
You must never be fearful of what you are doing when it is right.
You had a note in there. You knew it was simple, sweet. "To the man who is brilliant, smart, funny, and interesting in every way. Thank you for entertaining and caring about me."
The realization clicked into place very slow and very sweet.
You had gotten each other as a Secret Santa.
You began to laugh. One second it was giggles and the next it was soundless laughter, laughing so hard that tears sprang to your eyes. Or maybe the tears were because you loved this gift and you loved the man next to you.
"Why are you—" Calvin was laughing now, too. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because—" You wiped a tear from your eye. "Because this is so funny and you are so amazing and I love you and this gift so much—"
"You love me?" Calvin stared at you, lips parting.
Your laughter hitched, your breath stalling in your lungs. Your fingers clutched tight around the notebook in your lap, and you bit down on your lip as you managed a slow nod.
It was like a dam had broken inside of Calvin. His shoulders eased as a breath slid from his lips like it had been waiting for permission.
"That's—that's really good," he managed. "because I am quite positive that I love you too—"
You leaned forward and kissed him.
He was warm, and he smelled even better up close. His hand was cupping at your cheek and your neck, thumb along your jaw, tilting his head with a low, rumbling sound.
You both pulled back from the kiss. "Come to Christmas Eve," you panted. "with my family? Please?"
"Okay," Calvin agreed, and you dove back into each other again.
You were making out with Calvin Evans on the staircase of a building with an incredible Christmas gift in your lap and you were positive this was the greatest Christmas party ever.
"I'm guessing you like it, then?" He murmured between kisses. "I was—I was scared, I think, worried that you wouldn't like it—"
"I love it. I love it so much, Calvin, you don't even know how much it means to me." You shook your head, grinning as you peppered small little kisses all across his face. "So brilliant and observant, you know that?"
"I love this too. I've gotta—honey, hold on, I have to—" He was torn between continuing to kiss you and wrapping the watch around his left wrist. "The quote's so—how did you even—?"
"Research." You said smugly against his lips.
Calvin groaned softly. "That sounds… very hot when you say that." He kissed you again.
The two of you leaned back after a few moments, sprawled on the stairs. You would have to shower later, of course, you didn't trust where your coworker's shoes had been, but right now you were on cloud nine and nothing else mattered.
"… you're very hard to buy for, you know that?" Calvin murmured, playing with your hand.
"You are too," you protested. "I mean, what was I supposed to get, soaps? It took me forever to pinpoint the right—"
Calvin laughed and shushed you, kissing your knuckles. "I am joking with you," he murmured. "I enjoyed shopping with you. A little too much, actually."
You stared at him for a moment. "… what does that mean?"
Calvin glanced over at you, searching your face. "… spend Christmas with me?" He asked softly. "Please?"
A slow smile spread over your face. "Of course I will. Absolutely."
"Good." He rubbed your arm up and down. "I ended up buying you lots of presents."
Your eyebrows shot up. "… I did too. For you."
"No shit?"
Calvin swearing took you off guard, but you giggled and nodded, and he smiled and kissed you again, and for once, everything was right in the world.
"Oh, I mean it." He said when he leaned back from you, studying his new watch and then looking like you like you were worth billions. "This has been my best Christmas ever."
"Merry Christmas, Calvin." You said as you brushed your thumb along his cheeks.
He shivered slightly, but leaned into your touch. "Merry Christmas." He repeated, lower. His eyes moved to your lips again.
"Do you think I have more time to show my appreciation for the present?" He asked hopefully.
You smiled. "I don't think we'll be missed."
"Good." A hand pulled you closer by the sweater, and you thanked the Christmas spirits for blessing you with the hottest chemist alive. "I think I have a lot to thank you for."
"Merry Christmas indeed." You said with a giggle.
His lips closed over yours again, and in the crook of the Hastings building's stairway, the two of you pressed together, close and warm and happy, and celebrated new love and the right kind of connection the Christmas way.
A/N part 2: Guys I am sooo soooo insanely happy I got this done but also DAMN! So much writing! I wrote most of this today!
Thank you for all the support in 2025. This is the first year in a while that I've put my writing out there, so to see all the support and love pouring in means a whole lot. Thank you all for reading and engaging :) I'll see you all in 2026!! Much love!!
(come talk to me here or on twitter @/lostglassguitar)
hope you do not mind the tags everyone: @userpullman @theres-a-bea @lewmagoo
thank you all very much for the support on the most recent midnight on campus <33 means so much to me to hear from people how they've loved it, waited for it, and stuck with it. you are all awesome!!
pairing: ghostface!todd stevens x f!reader (f-ish)
summary: In the wake of the campus killer's newest attack, you navigate a growing relationship with the people around you.
Todd is concerned. Stacy is an asshole. Hannah is nice.
You meet new people. You reconnect with the old.
You are wound up, and Todd takes notice.
AO3 LINK || <PREV CHAPTER
contains: swearing, normal frat stuff, minor descriptions of dead bodies, Todd's a liar but at least he's nice about it, SMUT 18+ ONLY PLEASE: oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, fingering. If I've forgotten anything, please tell me!
word count: 12.8k
A/N: this has not been checked for anything but spelling. many many MANY thanks to Binz and Trixie, your patience in me astounds me but I will always appreciate the love :)
merry christmas eve <3 enjoy the smut
(dividers by @/strangergraphics)
You hoped word didn't get out that you had been the one to call the police on a weekend evening, because half the dorms probably hated you because of how much noise was happening outside right now.
Red-and-blue lights flashed in your vision. You hadn't made it a week without seeing them. You stood outside the dorm building, wrapped in a shock blanket, watching people scurry over the area like scared little mice. For something that seemed to only involve one person, the cops seemed rather jumpy.
Whoever that had been anyways, they were gone. They hadn't even followed you up the stairwell—not that it would've mattered, because Sumpter's dorms didn't have cameras under state law.
"Have you found them yet?" You drew your blanket closer around you, eyes flicking up to the policeman who was typing something into his phone. "Whoever they killed?"
He shook his head. "You don't gotta worry about that."
"I was the person who called the body in last week," You insisted, jaw clenching. "If you're worried about me getting queasy, then that's in the damn past."
The officer held up a hand and sighed. "You'll be able to tell when they're found."
This was both true and untrue. You could see the spread of lawn behind the officer, where several law enforcement people were sweeping the area, through bushes and trash cans.
Your head was still spinning a little. Also, you were cold. You drew your blanket around you, wishing you still had your jacket—
Your jacket.
Your jacket, and your bag, and your phone.
"My jacket."
"Hm?" The officer looked up from his phone.
"My jacket and my bag. When I was getting chased, he pulled them off, they should've been right here if he left them—"
"What do they look like?" The officer pulled out his dopey little notepad, and you resisted laughing, because no normal person would laugh in a situation like this.
"Um, my jacket's… black. Black, puffy on the torso but not the sleeves and hood. It's got, like, this tear on the right shoulder that I patched with a band-aid."
"And your bag?"
"Small body bag. Also black, but it's got some pins on the front of it."
"Alright, hold on." The officer stepped away to another group, and you watched them speak to each other in low murmurs, occasionally glancing over to you. You hugged your knees to the chest and breathed a foggy exhale out into a similarly foggy night.
The sound of a door opening and closing behind you made you turn. One of the girls from earlier, the one who had beckoned you inside her dorm, was stepping outside, eyes sweeping over the scene and then turning to you. She had pulled on a jacket over her pajamas, but she didn't seem to care about her pants as she sat down on the step next to you.
"They're still keepin' you here?"
"Obviously." Your lips quirked, then you exhaled. "Sorry. Been… a night, as you can imagine."
"Yeah, sounds like some tough shit." The girl stuck out her hand. "Alyssa."
You shook her hand and introduced yourself. "Thanks for saving my life."
"Nah, you had that," she said with a snort. "I mean, the idea of you trying to slap the hell out of some masked guy chasing you? Pretty impressive. You would probably survive a horror movie."
"Considering we seem to be in the middle of one, I wouldn't be saying that." You shivered and pressed yourself closer into the shock blanket around you. "I just feel bad for whoever he killed."
"They still haven't found them yet? Didn't you point it out?"
"I did. The body might've been moved."
"Some shit…" Alyssa shook her head, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. "They should send you home, at the very least. I mean, it's late out, y'know? Doesn't matter that it's a weekend."
"I've got work later." You said, which was more of a reluctant remembrance than anything. You sighed and pressed your head into your hands, shaking your head. "Goddammit…"
"Yeah, okay, that's it, you need to get home." A hand patted your back, and you felt your new acquaintance shift next to you to likely get someone's attention, but there was the sound of your name being spoken from somewhere else and you raised your head to find an officer waving to you.
"We think we've found your bag. Could you come over and identify it?"
"Really?" Relief shot through you. You sprang to your feet, nodding. "Yes. Yeah, show me."
Your bag wasn't far from where it had originally been ripped from your body. It laid sprawled across a piece of grass around the corner of the building, your coat another short distance away. It looked… untouched. Which made you suspicious.
"That's my bag, yeah," you nodded. "Can I get my phone?"
The officer looked unsure for a moment, glancing between you and Alyssa, who stood behind you with her arms crossed like the world's best support. He took you in for a second, possibly gauging the exhausted look in your eyes, and he sighed.
"Try not to disturb it as much as possible, but yeah, go ahead," he said. "Don't tell anyone I did this, yeah?"
"Thank you," you said earnestly before you dove for your bag. You rifled through for a moment, searching more with your hand than your eyes as you sought out the smooth surface of your phone screen, yet even as things clinked around in your bag, you couldn't find it.
"… what is it?" Alyssa asked, reading your expression.
"I can't—" You opened the bag a little wider, which the officer likely didn't like, but you didn't care. Your eyes now scanned the inside of the bag, searching over every little item inside.
Realization and dread smashed coldly into your chest, fighting against each other as you limply set the bag down.
"He took my phone."
"What?" That was the officer.
"He took my fucking phone." You stood up, surprised that your shaky legs could support you, as your eyes moved between the two people standing near you. "He took my phone. He—I swear it was inside the bag—"
"Alright, alright, calm down." The officer held up a hand and retrieved his notebook. "Can I get your number? We'll keep it on record and try to track it down."
You gave them your number, hugging your arms to your chest and wistfully looking towards your coat. Just another piece of evidence, now. Something the masked man had touched, something that could lead the police on a wild goose chase that had already lasted far too long. You'd been much more neutral about the situation before you were fucking involved in it.
"Okay," the officer huffed out a breath. "Well, we'll find a way to contact you when the bag's been looked over so you can come pick it up. Otherwise, I think I'm authorized to release—"
A shout from across the green grass. People were aiming flashlights up a tree, someone lowering something large and limp down from the tree. There were shouts, murmurs, a duo of paramedics racing across the lawn to the limp thing as it was lowered to the ground.
Your stomach rolled, and you ripped your eyes away as fast as you could. You couldn't close your eyes without seeing that masked figure dragging the body that had just been found, the nick of red on the jacket that signified what kind of fate the girl had met.
"Come on." A new arm wrapped around your shoulders—Alyssa, pulling you close, casting a gaze over her shoulder at the group of people around the body. "Let's get you home."
You awoke at a wretched 11:30 that morning. You'd barely been able to sleep, had hardly gotten to bed until four. Returning to your dorm had meant waking up Hannah, who had sat horrified on her bed as you and Alyssa took turns exchanging the story.
Bless Alyssa, of course, who you had only just met yet still supported you and slipped you her number on paper whenever you got a new phone. Bless Alyssa who firmly said you needed sleep and bid the two of you farewell.
What you did not bless was your life right now, or the nightmares that had kept you from a good night's rest.
Hannah wasn't in your dorm when you finally forced yourself up. No note, either. You felt stranded without your phone, but you at least had your laptop, which you pulled up to research where one could buy a burner phone. The money you'd been pocketing off to the side from your job wasn't enough for an actual phone yet, so for now you would have to settle and pray the police found your phone.
You settled into your bed, laptop balanced atop your knees, and pictured the phone and bag returned to your hands after everything both had been through. Your phone, too. Did you even still want a device touched by the hands of a killer?
You buried your face in your hands and groaned, rocking back and forth. You had to get it together. Work was soon, and you needed a phone before then.
Hannah returned an hour later carrying snacks, the act surprising you as you pulled your things together.
"I'm sorry I've been shit." Hannah put a bag of snacks on your bed and settled on her own across from you. She crossed her feet and watched you for a moment as you searched through the bag. Generic snacks, but likable. She'd mostly grabbed a shit ton of various chocolates, which you could appreciate.
"You don't have to apologize," you said as you glanced back at her. "I've been treated worse."
"Ugh, babe, don't say that, you'll make me feel even worse," she said with a groan. "Listen, I've prioritized distance from most of my roommates over the years. Most roommates suck. They've got shitty cleanliness, or they do dumb stuff, or they expect me to leave for the night so them and their ugly boyfriend can bone, y'know? We keep to our own, and that's how it goes."
She picked at something under her nail and blew out a slow breath. "But… I mean, I was a jerk to you in the beginning because of that. I've had my own little world for a while and I thought I could keep going the way I was going, and when it all fell down, you were there. When I got dumped by a guy and forgotten about by my friends during that party, you were there. And then we found a dead body together and everything."
"I think the bar's kinda in hell." You said with a small smile.
Hannah laughed, shrugging her shoulders in a what can ya do sort of way. "I just mean… you're cool." She looked at you. "And I want us to be cool, alright? No matter what keeps happening."
You couldn't fault the girl for trying. You extended your pinky finger with a tentative smile and let her hook her own around yours.
"We're cool." You repeated.
"Good." Hannah hopped off her bed. "Now, I'm coming with you to work, because I don't have shit to do and I don't wanna be alone with some killer around campus."
"Don't sit there."
Hannah frowned, pausing on her way to the corner booth. "What? Why?"
"Just don't. Trust me." You shuddered at the thought of sitting in the booth and gestured to another nearby. "That one's good, it has nice lighting and perfect airflow."
"How much time do you spend in here if you know the optimal places to sit?" Hannah asked as she slid into the booth you'd recommended.
You rolled your eyes as you walked to the back. "You don't want to know."
The moment you stepped into the back of the restaurant, you spotted Stacy. You frowned at that. Stacy didn't work Sundays. Why was she—?
Stacy's eyes locked with you, and they widened, comically large. "Oh my goodness. You're not dead!" She cheered, clapping her hands together.
You stared at her. "What."
"Bryce has been trying to get ahold of you all day!" Stacy exclaimed, moving around a counter and throwing her arms around you as you grunted and stiffened. "You didn't text, and I heard another person got murdered, so I was thinking that it was maybe, gasp, you!"
"Why the fuck do you sound so cheerful?" You snapped, moving her arms off you.
She blinked. "Someone's touchy."
"I found the body last night, Stacy," you responded. "And I got chased by the guy who did it."
Stacy's eyes widened again, her mouth forming a near-perfect 'O' shape. "Oh, shit…" She murmured, before she grabbed your hand. "Well—even though I have your shift, maybe you can stay and tell me all about it—"
"No, would you stop touching me?" You pulled yourself away from her again, trying to gather your thoughts. "Stacy, please be grown-up for five seconds and listen to me. So what I'm hearing is I'm off today?"
Stacy nodded slowly. "… yeah. Burke—"
"Bryce."
"—Bryce gave me your shift because you weren't answering."
"Yes, okay, I got that. Listen, the asshole stole my phone, I'll give you the number of the burner phone I just got."
"So… you're not staying?"
You shot a glare up at Stacy as you scribbled down your number on a random napkin. "Tell Bryce that's my number for now." You said as you firmly put it in her hands. "I can't deal with this right now, alright?"
Stacy frowned. "Come on. You're acting like you're the one who died."
You resisted the urge to slap her and stomped out of the backroom, your thoughts tangled up in your head.
Hannah was still on her phone, having taken none of her study items out of her bag. She blinked at you as you emerged, a crease to her brow. "What's going on?"
"I'll explain on the way to the bus stop. We're going back."
"Well, shit, now what are we gonna do? I don't wanna sit in the dorm all day thinking about everything!"
You watched her groan and flop around on the booth and fidgeted with the sleeve of your coat, before you sighed. "… I think I have a place."
The Kappa Nu Alpha fraternity house looked different in the daytime.
There were still decorations. The lawn looked like it had been puked on by the ghost of Frat Boy Halloweens. You hadn't realized how chaotic the spread had been before, but in the light, every decoration sin was spread out for the eye to see.
"This would give my mom a heart attack." Hannah commented, hugging her arms to herself as the two of you stared at the decorations. "I think she would cry tears seeing this."
"It looks better at night," you said as you walked up the stairs.
Hannah wrinkled her nose as she followed you. "Where do you think they get all the money for this stuff?"
"You know frats can get, like, funded and shit, right?" You peered over your shoulder at her, watching her study the decorations with no small amount of confusion.
"Doesn't sit right with me. Whatever." She clutched her things closer. "Let's go find your stupid boyfriend."
The house was silent, which made you realize you hadn't been here after a party before. There was still evidence of last night—haphazard beer cans, several bras, an entire box of snack-sized chips. It felt like every frat boy in the house had been raptured and the two of you were the only ones to see the aftermath.
"I think a bomb went off in here," you murmured. "I didn't really… register the mess last night."
"That happens when there's people milling around like a bunch of handsome, stupid idiots." Hannah said with a wistful sigh. You resisted the urge to smack her on the head.
The two of you wandered the downstairs of the house for a few minutes, searching for any sign of life before you eventually wandered into the kitchen. This was the first sign of life you'd seen, though as the two of you stood in the doorway, you quietly regretted finding this first.
Five frat guys were clustered in the kitchen, three of them watching as the other two continued tossing some kind of snack back and forth through the air, attempting to catch the snack in their mouth. It was the kind of activity that probably started when people were seven, except most people did not do this anymore.
The second the guys became aware of you, five pairs of eyes swiveled towards you and Hannah. There was an awkward, lingering silence for a moment before a cheerful voice exclaimed, "Pasta chick!"
A familiar, friendly face elbowed his way through the crowd. Marcus, pasta guy from a few weeks ago, beamed at you like he was seeing Jesus reincarnated. "The hell are you doing here?"
"You know him?" Hannah murmured.
"Hi, Marcus," you said politely. "I'm looking for Todd? Is he around?"
"Oooooooo," the rest of the frat boys cooed, like a flock of teenage girls or perhaps very hungover pigeons. Marcus swatted at all of them as he clambered past, wearing mismatched socks and a shirt far too large to be his.
"Mr. Prezzzz, hmm." He put a hand to his chin, gnawing on his lip. "He should be up, yeah. Might be working on some shit, though."
"Could you bring us to him?" You felt like you were negotiating with an enemy nation. You resisted the urge to blurt out that you were mayyyybe possibly on the path to dating the guy, so maybe they could be more helpful in locating your possible new boyfriend?
"Oh, yea, of course!" Marcus snatched a beer from the fridge and cracked it open with a lazy grin. "I've got so many pasta things to tell you about on the way. You were right by the way, it was cavatappi I was thinking of that night—"
Hannah shot you a look. Probably wondering how you'd vaguely befriended more frat guys than she had. You gave her a helpless shrug and followed Marcus upstairs.
Marcus was counting doors for a good few minutes, leading you down hallways before pausing and turning the other way, then turning again, then thinking very hard as he sipped at his beer. He almost never stopped talking the whole time—apparently when you had met him, you were lucky enough to meet the drunk, lax version of him. This version was all energy as he got lost inside his own frat house.
Finally, he led the two of you to a door that had a DO NOT DISTURB sign front and center. Giving the two of you a reassuring nod, he knocked heavily on the door. There was a muffled sound that you couldn't make out, but Marcus seemed to take it as permission as he pushed the door open.
Todd was sprawled on a large, comfortable looking chair in the corner of the room, which was really just filled with furniture, tables, a few medals, some random ass portraits, and a a statue of ducks in flight. Which… was weird. So weird. You were almost more distracted by the ducks than Todd.
The distraction did not apply to Todd. His eyes whipped up and connected with yours, widening as he put his laptop down and stood, walking over.
"What're you doin' here?" He asked quietly. "Thought you were working today."
The room felt smaller, warmer, now that he was here. You took in the first full breath you had since last night and tried not to burst into tears in Hannah and Marcus' presence.
"Can we talk?" You asked quietly.
Todd's eyes shifted from you to Marcus to Hannah. He nodded immediately, taking your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze beneath his warm hand. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course. C'mere."
The two of you found yourselves in a hallway again. It was different than last night, a little colder somehow than the party atmosphere you'd last seen the house in. This time, instead of leaning against opposite walls, Todd leaned against the window at the end of the hallway as you stood in front of him.
"What's goin' on?" His eyes searched your face. He was touchy, so fucking touchy, but you didn't give a damn as his hand cupped your cheek.
Everything gushed out. You told him about the walk back, and the masked figure, being chased, your phone, your friend, your job, fucking Stacy. Everything poured out of you in a string of words, your voice shaky but constant.
Todd listened the whole way. His eyes remained steady and locked onto you, hand never straying from your cheek. He just listened. It felt good, that someone listened, that someone cared, that you had someone to fall back on despite all the shit going on in your life.
When finally your breath failed you and there were no words left to say, Todd exhaled, pressing his lips together. "Shit, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. C'mere."
He pulled you into a hug, which surprised you, but from the way your body instinctively reacted, you realized you'd needed one more than you thought. You pressed your face into his chest, taking in some distant cologne scent, and let him hold you. One thumb stroked against the back of your neck while his other hand stroked your back slowly.
"I didn't know you had a tender side." You mumbled into him, lips pulling up slightly as Todd's chuckle vibrated warmly against you.
"You think so little of me, dontcha?" The thumb flicked at your ear, and he hummed lowly. "Have a little faith that I can take care of ya."
Your stomach did a little flip at that. You huffed and let him hold you.
"So we're good?" Hannah plopped down on the couch as she was asking that, blinking wide eyes at Todd. "We can chill here for the day?"
"Yeah, yeah, you two won't be bothered." The president leaned against the doorway to the room, his arms folded like it wasn't exposing his muscles and making you openly stare. He smirked at the sight of you looking and raised an eyebrow, which made you pointedly glare at him and turn away.
"I'll make sure of it," Todd continued to address Hannah. "I'll try to make sure the boys give you two a berth, though they, ah, might try and win your heart over."
"Aww." Hannah beamed. "I'm flattered."
"I'm not." You mumbled, scowling down at your laptop.
"Don't you worry, sunshine." A large hand squeezed down on your shoulder, and you craned your neck up to see Todd looking down at you.
"They ain't gonna bug you." He said, voice quieter as his hand moved to brush over your jaw. "I'll make sure of that."
You stared at him for a moment, sure you were looking a little dumb, before you blinked and smiled a little. "Thank you, I suppose."
"'You suppose'," Todd repeated. "as if I'm not graciously using my presidential ability—"
Your hand reached up and gripped his collar as you brought him down to kiss you. You felt him grin against your lips, and his hand snaked around to the front of your throat, holding your face up as he pressed kiss after kiss to your lips.
When he pulled back, you raised an eyebrow. "Is that a good thank you?"
"Mmm." He patted at your cheek and sauntered out of the room, though you could hear his smile. "I'll accept it."
You turned your gaze back to Hannah, who was looking at you with some mix of amusement and jealousy. "Not a word."
"I can't believe you got a boyfriend within your first couple of months here." She sighed, shaking her head as she drew her knees to her chest and opened a book. "This is, like, the most unfair thing that has ever happened to me."
"You could get a guy, I'm sure." You waved behind you. "Clearly men are available around here."
Hannah stuck her tongue out at you, and you giggled and flung one of the couch pillows at her. Yesterday was easy to forget like this, right now.
Maybe everything would be alright.
Everything sucked ass and you were going to bury yourself in a hole.
"D. D?." You stared blankly at the paper in your hand. You had done everything right. Everything right. You'd followed formatting and submission rules to a T, busted your ass to get time so you could print the paper and hand it in. Your paper had extensive research, sources, perfect connections, a united idea following the outline you had made. You had tried your damn hardest. And you'd gotten a D, which was the first time in nearly three years you'd gotten a grade that low.
You raised your gaze to Professor Anderson, who raised an eyebrow like your reaction surprised him. "I-I don't really understand, sir, could I ask you directly what's so wrong with my paper that makes you give it a D?"
Your professor sighed and put down his pen, murmuring your last name. "Your paper was correctly formatted, of course, but your arguments, they just… did not meet my criteria."
You blinked a few times. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Yes, I can tell you don't." He sighed again. "This is a social studies class. When you debate issues, you need to separate the self from the issue."
"I thought you said this assignment was freeform and could be based on personal opinion as long as we had the outside citations to back it up," you protested. "I looked over the requirements, like, a million times, I followed instructions to a T—"
He held up a hand. "I don't need you arguing with me. This is the grade I've given you. Learn from it, improve, and show me you can do better."
Your head was buzzing as you exited the classroom, whorls of confusion and anger and rage that circulated like they were the blood keeping your body alive.
You were furious, truly so. A grade like this would drop shit significantly from your overall grade, which was a whole domino effect that could hurt everything else, all because, what, a professor couldn't give you a proper answer for why the paper you'd spent so much energy on sucked? It was stupid and you hated the man and—
A firm hand squeezed at your shoulder. You blinked, sharply drawn back to the present as Todd murmured your name intently. "Are you with me?"
"Yes. Yeah. Sorry."
"I asked what grade you got." He lingered close to you, leaning against the wall where he'd been waiting out in the hallway while you talked to Anderson.
"I got a fuckin' D." You shoved the paper at him with too much force, but Todd caught it easily, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over the paper.
"Wasn't this the one you tried really hard on?" He scoffed. "That's fuckin' bullshit, sunshine, I ain't gotta be a genius to tell that."
"I tried asking him what reasons there were for the bad grade and he didn't give me anything." You threw your arms up in the air, exasperated, before you snatched the paper back. "Can you believe that?"
"Outrageous." Todd agreed, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh.
You nudged him. "What grade did you get?"
"I don't want to make your bad mood worse."
"Todd."
"A." His smile was low and smug yet apologetic. You slapped at his chest, and he gasped, grinning as he twisted away from you.
"Don't kill the messenger here, the hell?" He poked at you, and now it was your turn to smile as you batted his hand away. "Just because you're all wound up doesn't mean you should take it out on me, you know."
"We don't exactly have a rage room at the college, so you might as well be the subject of my wrath, no?" You smiled a little as you shoved your stupid, failed paper into your tote bag, and the two of you began walking down the hall. "I'm not 'all wound up', by the way, I'm just… working shit out."
"Well, you've got me, no?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, doing that same lax, long-legged walk that he could achieve with his height. "I'm just saying if you are wound up, I could help."
About five million thoughts flashed through your head in an instant, absolutely none of them proper. You watched Todd from the corner of your eye, quickly running through the best things you could possibly say in this scenario.
It would be a lie to say you hadn't thought about sex. Obviously, frats were known for their raunchiness, and you had witnessed your fair share of it over the last few weeks, but you still couldn't fully identify where Todd fell on that scale.
He'd been normal with you. As normal as you could call it, that was, considering everything happening in your life right now. He was teasing, and an asshole, and charming, with the nicest hands and a lovely voice.
So what if you had thought about him touching you in different ways. That was normal, right? Was he even insinuating such a thing right now? What did it mean for you if he was?
God, you needed practice with this relationship thing. You were clearly a bit of a lost ship at sea.
"I can tell your brain's moving a little bit too fast right now." Todd reached out and took your hand, easily enveloping you as he tugged you down a nearby hallway. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"
"I'm not playing 20 Questions with you today, Todd, I gotta get to work," you said. "but I am fine, I can assure you."
"No, you are not." This observance was softer. His eyes were piercing, piercing, piercing like nothing you'd ever known before. His hand cupped at your jaw now, and he tilted his head.
"Could I give you just a little something before you go, then?" His breath ghosted across your lips, his own expression turning into a slow smile at the way you squirmed under him.
"If you must," you murmured, and then, quicker—"Please."
His lips moved into yours before you could form another thought. Slow, easy, he stole the breath from your lungs and made it his own. You could feel him, and he could feel you. Your arms were around his neck and his were around your waist, and for a moment, in between kisses and breaths, all that existed was the two of you.
Then your alarm rang in your pocket, the alarm that said you really needed to get moving or you would miss the bus soon, and Todd pulled away with a reluctant groan in the back of his throat.
"Quit your job." He mumbled, pressing his forehead into the top of your head.
"I can't say I haven't thought of it," you said with a grin. "but unfortunately, I'm not giving Stacy the satisfaction of being the last one standing."
"Ah. Yes. Stacy." His grip on your hips tightened for a moment before he pulled away and looked down at you. "You would tell me if you were getting bullied, right?"
"Christ, Todd, this isn't high school." You snorted. "I don't think bullies exist."
"Bullies exist." He raised an eyebrow. "I run a group of assholes, don't you think I would know that?"
"… fair point."
"I know." He tapped a finger on your lips. "You would tell me, right?"
"Yeah, I complain to you about everything at this point anyways." You made a move to bite his finger, and he pulled it away, smiling. "What would you do about it though? Complain to my manager about my asshole coworker?"
"Mmm, so you are being bullied?"
You gave him a firm look.
He just grinned. "I would do what any law abiding citizen does and stand up for the girl I like."
"I don't trust you for some reason."
"I'm hurt, sunshine."
"You're the president of a frat, Todd."
"All the more reason to trust me. I know about responsibility."
You sighed and hefted your tote bag higher over your shoulder, rolling your eyes dramatically. "I'm going to work now, Todd."
He followed you, still smiling the same way. "Feeling less wound up?"
"I'm still wound up."
"We'll have to fix that then, no?"
You resisted the flutter in your chest and smashed your lips into a neutral expression. He was an ass, and you were very, very fond of him.
He was nearly enough to distract you from the poster you passed by, something about a candlelit ceremony for the death of one Caroline Evans, sorority president of two years.
Nearly.
"Your burner phone keeps ringing whenever you're not in the break room."
You glanced up from where you were vigorously wiping down a table, watching Stacy lean against the wall and fidget with the pen in her hands.
"There's no way it rings every time."
"Every. Time." She groaned. "Listen, I know you're mad at me or whatever—"
"Whatever." You mumbled under your breath.
Stacy barrelled on. "—but can't you spare me the horrors of listening to your damn phone ringing all the time? Who's calling you so much, anyways?"
You sighed as you finished wiping the table. "If it annoys you so much, yes, I will go fix it, just stop complaining to me, okay?" You moved past her with a sigh, before the sound of your name made you pause.
"I don't get what I did to upset you." Stacy hesitantly touched at your arm, wrinkling her nose. "You know I don't mean any offense by talking about the murder stuff, right? Like, I know it's happening right now, and that you're having a rough time, but I'm just trying to know what's going on."
You took a slow breath. "Maybe I can acknowledge that, but you're acting flippant about the fact that I, specifically, don't want to talk about it. There are plenty of people I'm sure you could ask, but I don't want to talk about it."
"Ignoring it won't make it go away, you know." Stacy retracted her touch as she watched you walk away. "I'm just curious!"
You didn't respond as you weaved through the restaurant, taking a moment to pause and breathe against the wall.
The moment your eyes closed there were images. A man lying in a pool of blood and a girl's jacket spotted with a clean slice of blood, her distant body being lowered from a tree.
Jeez, maybe Todd was right. You were very wound up right now.
Technically, that would make Stacy a bit right too, but you weren't willing to admit that.
Just as you entered the break room, you heard it—the distant, muffled ringing of your phone inside your bag. You'd set it aside more out of practicality than anything. There was no Internet to scroll, really, just messages, but even those could cost you if you labored over them. It only left you more annoyed that someone was calling you. You didn't know if you could be faulted for that or not.
You rummaged in your bag before you pulled the phone out, silently praying that whatever this was didn't count as an emergency. Upon finding it, though, you blinked down at the phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Who on Earth would randomly call a burner phone number, you wondered? You ran over the numbers you'd been learning so much recently (this is what a lost phone did to you), but instead settled on simply answering the number.
"Yeah, hello?" You asked as you pressed the phone to your ear.
Silence answered you. There was nothing to greet you on the other end.
"Hello?" You tried again. "If you're speaking, I can't hear you."
Nothing, nothing, nothing. It felt like you were speaking into a void and there was nobody on the other end.
Just as you were about to hang up, you heard a noise. Slight, slight shuffling, and some noise like a breath.
"… hello?" You said one more time, slowly. "I hear you."
The line went dead.
You pulled back and stared at your phone, brow wrinkling puzzledly. "How weird." You murmured, putting the phone back in your bag.
"Are you done in there? I just sat some people in your section!" Stacy's voice came through the air, and you resisted the urge to groan.
"Yes, I'm done. I'm coming!" You called over your shoulder, running a frustrated hand down your face as you exited the room.
You didn't really have the time to think about the phone, but you still found a way to think about it through the rest of your shift. Every wiped table gave you time to run over what had just happened, like feeling a gap in your teeth.
There were pieces missing to everything, obviously. Like every carefully constructed thread you'd lined up in the last few months was unspooling all at once in front of your face. The only thing you could do was move on, cryptic phone calls or not.
When you finally exited work, weary and sore, you blinked at the sight in the parking lot. Todd Stevens was leaning against a car, kicking idly at a rock beneath his feet. When you paused in your tracks, his head raised, and he raised a lazy wave to you with a stupidly smug look on his face.
You grinned. What an asshole.
"What the hell are you doing here?" You jogged across the parking lot. "I thought you had a meeting today or something."
"Half the time when I say 'meeting', I mean 'me and some other guys are gonna get high and drunk and fuck around'." Todd crossed his arms and then abated with, "And then the other half of the time it is an actual meeting, so I won't fault you for this, now that I'm thinkin' about it."
"Asshole." You punched at his bicep, watching him amusedly mouth ow and rub at the spot. "You came to pick me up?"
"I figured my shitty car was a bit of a grade up from a shitty bus," he said. "unless you would prefer the bus—"
"Mmm, no, the car, the car." You leaned up and grabbed his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. "Thank you." You said sincerely when the two of you parted. "It's a nicer way to do it than stressing about which stop to get off on."
Todd tilted his head, smiling. "Glad to chauffer, then."
His car wasn't terrible. A bit of junk, yeah. A few empty beer cans crammed where they couldn't be seen, a few wrappers from snacks, a drink holder encrusted with hellspawn you didn't wish to know the origin of. You expected all of it. But you still sat and found that you were entirely comfort in his car.
"How was work?"
It took you a moment to answer Todd considering his arms were out yet again today. You wondered how lethal he was in summertime when his arms were likely out even more.
You wondered how insane it made you that you were already thinking about spending you summertime with Todd Stevens. Jesus Christ, what had this man done to you—
"It was fine. Stacy's been pissing me off." You huffed and picked at a nail. "She's been, like, utterly persistent in finding ways to be rude to me. I just—she's always been a little odd, but she'd been incredibly inconsiderate in a way that almost feels purposeful? I don't get it."
"She's buggin' you about the murder." It wasn't a question.
You exhaled. "Yeah. She is." Your gaze wandered from Todd to the window, watching the world pass by. "I don't think she understands how big of a deal this is. She thinks it's just some fun story she can hear about, when it's really my damn life."
"Yeah, you don't deserve that shit on top of everything else goin' on." Todd said lowly, the sound of his voice soothing the part of you that was growing heated. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You just ignore her ass, alright? I'm glad you told me, of course, but the best thing you can do is show her you aren't taking shit."
"I think I might be the ultimate shit-taker," you mused. "considering all the falls I've been taking lately."
"Falls are different than shits. Shits are worse." Todd tapped a finger on the wheel. "Remember; I know."
"Mmm. How's the frat going?" It seemed a weekly question, but you still found yourself asking every time.
"Everyone's okay. Excited for Halloween, y'know. We've got a… real reputation goin' for us, so I gotta give folks a show."
"You gonna tell me what you've got planned for this weekend?" You asked hopefully.
"Just because I like your ass doesn't mean I spoil my plans, sunshine." Todd said with a look in your direction.
You leaned over towards him with a dramatic sigh, tapping fingers along his arm closer to his neck. "What if I beg?" You asked quietly, blinking at him with wide eyes.
Todd took in a very deep breath and pulled over the car.
Your lips twitched as he turned to you. "The fuck kinda flirting you pulling on me when I'm driving?"
"Are you surprised?" You asked.
"Damn, yeah, I didn't think you could flirt."
"Okay, well fuck you, asshole—"
"Is that what you want?"
You faltered, gazing at Todd for a moment as your cheeks turned hotter and hotter. You couldn't even muster up a good response, too lost in the glint in his eyes and the way he was leaning close, so close.
"… maybe," you said finally. "if, you know, your schedule's open sometime."
Todd tilted his head, eyes slowly running over you. Up and down, up and down, his fingers toyed with the collar of your shirt as he hummed.
"I want a yes. Not a maybe." Todd said, voice a low and throaty murmur. "You gotta want it."
You couldn't breathe. He was so close and you were in a car on a public road and he smelled so fucking good.
"… rain check, then?" You whispered, not trusting your voice to work.
"Atta girl."
Todd's lips closed over your own, his hand pressed around your throat as you both tried to take each other in with the center console between you. Todd pressed closer more successfully, his height stretching over the space as he crowded you back, intense and overbearing in the best way possible. You regretted each breath you took away from his lips, eager to press back into him as the two of you hummed and giggled like two fools as you took up the car space in a very unnatural position that you loved nonetheless.
Eventually, the two of you parted, and he grinned at you, eyes glittering. "I don't think I could ever get tired of this."
"It's not even been a week, you know."
"I know." He nipped at your lip and darted away, pulling the car back out before you could pounce on him in retaliation. "I'm saying that as a decision and an instinct."
Saturday reached you like a race car with somewhere to be. You'd never been one to often say how "time flew by", but this week had been full of activities and classes and you'd hardly done anything but float on a recovering sort of cloud nine, trying to forget all that had happened to you in the last few weeks.
You had met with Alyssa and her roommate, Lizzy. The two of them were sweet—same year as you, Lizzy studying nursing and Alyssa studying business. It felt good to establish another branch of your college tree, gain some new friends. They were normal and real and established, which was what you needed right now.
Todd, too, was stable. You spent three days that week in the KNA frat house, taking up space you didn't need to, though Todd insisted he didn't mind. Sometimes he was there in his makeshift office working on something, or sometimes around the house, but nobody ever bugged you and you never felt unsafe there.
How strange, the circumstances you'd ended up in. How wonderful.
As Saturday rolled around, this time you were prepared. You stuffed things into your small bag and made sure to map out a plan in your head. You would not be caught by a killer this time. No way in hell.
"Still not feeling the party urge?" You asked Hannah, who shook her head.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we're switching habits. I'd rather sit here with some ice cream and veg out, y'know?" Your roommate, who was beginning to be considered a friend, sprawled out on her bed. "Have fun, though. And be safe. Seriously. Make your boyfriend drive you or something."
"I don't really think he's my boyfriend yet."
"Don't you guys make out, like, every time you see each other?"
You warmed at this accusation, though it was entirely accurate. You and Todd had been making out quite a lot, actually. Warm murmurs and touches, his breath on your neck, his hands wandering slow and gentle and never going too far.
He insisted it was stress relief, which, yeah, sure. You were pretty sure you came out of each session a little more wound up, though. Knowing him, it would be what he wanted.
"We haven't established a relationship status just yet, alright?" You said with a sigh as you tugged a jacket on over your… outfit. Costume. Whatever. "Bye, Hannah, have a good night."
"Bye." She sighed and flopped over to her laptop.
The Kappa Nu Alpha fraternity house was covered in red.
You'd been there yesterday, but somehow all of the previous decorations out front had been swapped for things in red. Haphazard red streamers were tossed anywhere they could hang, some already rolling across the ground or being tossed by the wind. A loitering pack of sorority girls were standing near the entrance, lighting cigarettes for each other while they huddled together for warmth because fuck was it cold tonight.
"You going in or out?" You asked them.
"Out, sadly," one of the girls said. "we've got somewhere else to be, but it's great in there tonight. KNA's, like, really turned it up a notch this year."
"Hope you aren't wearing anything too stainable under that jacket." Another girl said, gesturing to you.
You blinked. "Should I be concerned?"
"Mmm. She got her outfit a bit, uh… messy." She nodded to a third girl, who stood to reveal that her entire front was coated in something dark and red.
Fake blood.
Oh, lord, was the theme tonight related to blood? Of course.
"Thanks for the warning," you said. "have a nice night."
Inside was red.
The music playing over the speakers seemed to be heavy metal, though after entering you heard the song end and it swung into something pop-related—but still singing about blood and love and bleeding for youuuu you know that's what I'll doooooo…
It was chaos. The ground floor was entirely covered in plastic drop cloths, which were already smeared with marks of fake blood.
"Jesus fucking Christ," you mumbled, stepping aside to a small area that had been set aside for people to place their shoes. Sure. You were sure this would go well.
Just as you were looking for the best place to put your shoes, a familiar voice greeted you. "MISS VIP PASTA LADY!"
"Hi, Marcus." You said, already turning around. You blinked at the man, who was shirtless and in swim shorts, grinning, absolutely coated in blood aside from his hands. "… um. What happened to you?"
"The party happened!" Marcus threw his hands up with a grin. "We've been having a great night already, lemme tell ya—the work was a shit ton, but it was worth it."
"I'm not even sure what to think." You gestured around. "So the theme tonight is… blood?"
"You ever heard that one saying?" He scratched at the hint of a goatee on his chin. "That, like, blood is thicker than water?"
"Yyyyup. Obvious fact."
"Well tonight, KNA's focusing on the purity of what blood means for the season of spooky. You know?" He spread his hands. "A night of fuckin' rebirth and delight, shedding insecurities and letting yourself get loose and messy and wild."
You winced. "Your parties are kinda usually wild, no? I mean, I like the idea, of course—" You cut yourself off as a small thought occurred to you. "Are all the KNA guys… mostly naked?"
Marcus grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Sooo, I've been sent to, uh, collect your items and put them in a safer space." He raised his hands innocently. "See, my hands are clean, I won't hurt 'em."
You were concerned with what floors upstairs he would hurt considering his feet were red, but you sighed and took off your shoes, socks, jacket, and bag. "You promise I'll get these back?"
"Oh, yeah, duh." He smiled as he took them. "This is Todd's house, and you're Todd's, so what the man says, the man gets. In this case, it's the preservation of your stuff." He nodded at your outfit. "Nice costume, by the way."
"I bought it at Spirit Halloween for, like, twenty-five bucks." You said with a shrug. You were clad as a cowgirl, minus the signature hat because you couldn't purchase it, but you figured the fake belt buckle, bandana, and vest could tell your story where the hat couldn't. Either way, it was a fine outfit. Though you were pretty sure cowboys did not dress like this.
"I liiiike it." Marcus nodded with an airy smile, then waved your items. "Aight, I'm gonna go put these upstairs. Enjoy the party." He shot you a grin like he knew something you didn't and awkwardly waddled away with your things.
You sighed and began searching for Todd.
Your original thought that the entire ground floor was covered in plastic drop cloths was true, which astounded you before you remembered rich boys got admitted to frats. The thought, though sobering, was also amusing. Hey, Dad! Used that money you sent me to buy drop cloths for a party so people could smear fake blood all over the house.
It seemed that some people had come prepared for this scenario. Some people just wore basic red shirts they wouldn't seem to mind getting stained, some wore white shirts they were purposefully ruining, some people wore skimpy red outfits so they could show off their physique while fake blood ran down their body. Though you felt out of place and were largely focusing on not slipping on the plastic floor coverings, there was a sort of air about the night that you couldn't deny.
Finally, you slipped a corner and found a crowd gathered around something. You recognized this as the room that people often performed in, but from where you stood, you couldn't see what was going on. You found yourself able to somewhat elbow through people, considering many of them were drunk and not entirely paying attention, so you could really get a good look at the situation.
When you finally got to the front, you stopped in your tracks.
Todd Stevens was shirtless and drenched in blood, an axe in hand as "Hip to be Square" blasted over the speakers in the room. On the stage with him was Gettys, his hair slicked back in a more purposeful style than usual, a lazy grin on his face that was clearly bolstered by the amount of whooping people in the crowd. He had somehow stayed clean of blood and was noticeably not shirtless, though something told you this was about to change.
"Most people probably don't listen to the lyrics," Todd was addressing Gettys with a grin, giving a meaningful look to the crowd that had people shrieking. "but they should. Because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends—it's also a personal statement about the band itself."
Todd stepped forward and raised his axe, making a gesture to the crowd that said cheer. People followed it like moths to a flame, chanting "KILL" at the top of their lungs while some sang drunkenly along to the old, catchy song in the background.
"Hey, Gettys!" Todd said cheerfully before bringing the axe down in a mock—but convincing—swing.
You had absolutely no idea where the fake blood came from, but it came. Gettys gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest as he staggered back and collapsed to the ground. Todd immediately followed, straddling the man as he raised the axe again and again and did mock hits.
You weren't sure you'd ever heard Todd yell. You were even less sure why hearing him do so was turning your stomach hot.
You watched Gettys spurt fake blood onto both him and Todd, splattering the president's face in fake red that was dripping off of him by the time he climbed off Gettys, panting, before spinning to the crowd with a grin that made your knees week.
"Now." He dropped the axe to the stage and spread his arms. "Is that a fuckin' show or what?"
Applause erupted. Todd grinned and flicked his hands coated in blood at the audience, prompting lighthearted shrieks from the people. He then helped Gettys up with a bloody hand, who wiggled his eyebrows and tossed his shirt off, which prompted more screaming from the crowd.
"Where's Max and Shaun?" Todd shouted into the crowd. "Get y'alls asses up here and put on a show!"
Two other frat guys clambered onto the stage, one slapping the other's ass, both wielding inflatable blow-up women that were already smeared very prominently with blood. You dreaded where this was going, but as your eyes swept to where Todd and Gettys were disappearing into the crowd, you realized you were missing your chance to reunite.
With the heat in your chest intensifying at the sight of Todd's back muscles flexing in the dim light, it felt instinctual to follow the two.
"Todd. Gettys. Todd!" You called over the music pumping through the house. The two turned, Gettys grinning widely as he tossed his hands up.
"Look who it is! Looking very bloodless there."
"I paid money for this outfit, I'm not seekin' to get it ruined quite yet." You protested, batting away his reaching hand and receiving a laugh for your efforts.
Todd had not said anything yet, and when your gaze turned to him, you realized it was because he was staring at you with the hungriest look in his eyes you had ever seen.
"Hey, baby." He murmured, stepping closer.
"Hiya." You smiled. "Didn't know you guys were doing a performance, when was that a thi—"
His hand grasped your chin and he kissed you.
It was slow and hungry tonight. You tasted corn syrup on his lips, mildly sweet, as red passed from his mouth to yours.
Gettys whistled lowly. You pressed into Todd until you became aware of needing breath and pulled back, panting. "What was that for?"
Todd's thumb smeared over your lips. You became aware that your mouth and chin were now smeared with blood, but something heated inside of you did not care in the least.
"Present." He muttered, sounding dazed, before he blinked at you and raised an eyebrow. "You like the performance?"
"I only caught the tail end of it, but yeah, it was… something." You nodded at Gettys. "What did Gettys do to get murdered?"
"Hoarded beers." Todd wiped his mouth against the back of his hand, which did nothing to remove the fake blood. "Like a bitch."
"Ah, right. Of course." You gave Gettys a look, who shrugged like what can ya do? "Well, I'm sure he deserved it."
"Hey now," Gettys started, but Todd just nodded sagely, still drinking you in with eyes that were deep and dark as could be.
"You understand." Another touch to your chin. "You wanna come talk while I wash this off?"
"Now that sounds bad for the pipes." You grinned and nodded. "Of course I will."
Todd was silent for a small time as the two of you lingered in an upstairs bathroom. The water rushing against his hands came out red, red, red as he scrubbed under his nails and mostly up his forearms. You watched him silently, leaned against a wall with your arms crossed, yet neither of you lingered in an uncomfortable silence.
"You looked… good," you murmured in the silence. "I mean—you still do, but you, um… that was hot? It sounds weird saying that out loud."
Todd gave you a slow grin, face still splashed with blood. "With confidence, sunshine."
You stared up at him. "You're hot."
"Good girl." He took a wet paper towel and slowly dragged it over your skin, holding your chin and moving it side to side to take all the blood away. "Is that what gets you hot and bothered? Hm? Watching me yell and murder a guy?"
"Shut up." You felt warm.
"I'm serious."
You were feeling even warmer. He was standing so, so close, all shirtless and bloody, with a pulsing jaw and intense eyes.
"Yeah." You breathed up to him. "Plenty gets me hot and bothered regarding you anyways, but that was—" You huffed. "—that was good, okay? You've been… so fucking hot this whole week, and that really felt like the final straw."
"In a good way?" He asked.
"In a good way." You affirmed.
"That's good." Todd leaned forward, one giant hand pressing you back against the bathroom wall. "Because ever since I turned around and saw you in this sexy lil' costume, I've been wanting to fuck you more than anything."
You kissed him.
He kissed you back, instantly pulling you close. Fake blood smeared against your costume, but you didn't give a damn, because odd was touching you and you wanted him more than anything.
"Are we—" You pulled back and patted at his chest. "—is your bed going to get ruined if we?"
"Fuuuuck, I can't afford new sheets." Todd grabbed about twelve paper towels, got them wet, and started to slap them all over himself. You laughed, a little surprised at the motion, but grabbed a few towels from him and started wiping.
"The blood's a good look, though." You said, rounding to his back and wiping. "What exactly possessed you guys to, uh, choose this as a theme?"
"Well." Todd hummed as you finished his back. He offered you another towel and pulled your hand to his chest, and you flushed as he guided it across his chest.
"It's all about losing inhibitions for a night," he murmured. "about returning to a wild side, a side that wants and indulges. A side that can fuckin' party without gettin' fussy over damn grades and that bullshit."
He blinked at you and tilted his head, wordlessly taking the stained paper towels and tossing them into the trash.
"You wanna lose your inhibitions for a bit, sweetheart? You've been pretty tense this week."
"That is partially because of you." You murmured, but you nodded as he cupped at your cheek. "But… yeah. Entirely yes."
You didn't really pay much attention to where Todd's room was. He was kissing you most of the way there.
The upper hallways of KNA were blessedly empty, which left it to you and Todd to account for the normal stumbling and messy kissing that other frat guys and their hookups did. Both of you were eager to claim that role, with his hands on your back and in your hair as you bumped from wall to wall, breathless and panting, until you were suddenly stumbling into a room and being pushed back onto the bed, where you sprawled, out of breath, and watched Todd wordlessly shut the door without looking at it.
"That was hot." You stated.
Todd chuckled lowly, climbing onto the bed and straddling your hips. You stared up at him, already more than a little dazed, as his hand idly played with the bandana around your neck.
"How you wanna do this, cowgirl? Hm?" He tilted his head. "You want me to touch you?"
"Yeah." A futile attempt to push your hips up had him grinning, one hand slipping underneath your shirt and feeling along your belly while the other slipped the bandana off.
"Lemme take this off, yeah?" Todd only proceeded once your nod reached him, but there was still something unreal about watching his hands unbutton your shirt one by one, until he saw some of your skin exposed and practically ripped the shirt off.
"God damn." He took in a shaky breath, hands touching everything they could reach. "A fuckin' vision. Gonna fuck you so hard, sunshine, you just wait."
You pushed your hips up again. He just smiled down at you, drinking you in as one hand slipped behind your back and unclipped your bra. The second you were fully exposed, you shivered, heat coming to your face as Todd looked at your chest like the hungriest man alive. One hand palmed at a breast while he bent down, his mouth enclosing over your nipple as you whined and arched up into him, feeling his tongue explore the space as he hummed low and deep in his throat.
He retracted a moment later, groaning and palming at your flesh with a big, warm hand. "Pretty girl. Pretty fuckin' girl." He said, husky as could be. "Been dreamin' about this, you're more perfect than my fuckin' wet dreams, y'know that?"
"You've been dreaming—ohh shit Todd—"
His mouth had closed over your other nipple, and as you moaned, you clamped a hand over your mouth that was immediately removed by Todd. You glanced down and could only see one eye peering up at you, intent and focused, as his teeth brushed lightly against your nipple.
Fuck, you were sensitive. You were so, so sensitive and he had barely done anything to you yet.
He pulled back with a breathy groan, squeezing your hand. "Sound so fucking good too, I don't think I can wait any longer." He pulled back, scooting off of you to touch at your pants. "Lemme touch you. Please. Need to taste that pussy, baby."
"God, yeah, shit, I need you, Todd." You helped him with your pants, the two of you struggling and laughing a little as you fumbled over the fake belt buckle and the pants.
"Tacky," Todd remarked as he tossed the belt buckle aside.
"I don't see you being a cowboy."
"In another life, my cowboy ass is unimpressed with you."
"Be fuckin' unimpressed with Spirit Halloween, the hell?" You started to sit up before his hand pushed you back, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Would you put a pin in this and let me fuck you?"
You frowned. "You started it—" Your voice faltered as two fingers pressed against your underwear, and you sucked in a slow breath at the tingle of pleasure that shot through you.
"Fuck, you're soaked already, arent'cha?" Todd grinned at you as he gestured for you to scoot further up his bed, spreading your legs with his hands. "You that ready for me?"
"You've been teasing me all week. One could argue this is long overdue."
"Aww, do we gotta argue?" He squeezed at your thigh with one hand while the other toyed with the waistband of your intimates. "I'd prefer to taste ya, baby."
"Fuckin'—stop teasing me, Todd," you complained, sounding more whiny than you would've liked.
"Say please."
"… please." You mumbled, then yelped as a thumb pressed against your underwear again.
"With feeling, sweetheart." He said firmly, eyes glittering with amusement and arousal.
"Please," you said, much more sincerely. "please stop teasing me."
"Good girl. I've gotcha." Todd slipped your underwear off, groaning at the sight of you. Two fingers spread you open and you squirmed, but his other hand paused you as it pressed down on your abdomen.
"Fuckin' gorgeous." He muttered. "God, do you even understand how good you look?" He pressed a few sloppy kisses to the inside of your thigh before licking at your folds. You moaned, warmth flooding your body as you twitched from the breaths he fanned across your cunt.
"Gonna taste ya." Todd raised his gaze to you. "Try to keep your eyes on me, yeah, baby? I wanna see you."
You nodded. "Yeah, just— please."
Todd's tongue gave a kitty lick to your clit, and you whimpered, sucking in a small breath. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed before he dove into your folds.
He was warm, and wet, and everywhere. His tongue and lips were against your clit and he was moaning into you like he'd found heaven between your legs. You were moaning too, nearly tossing your head back, but your instinct told you to keep watching him, so you watched as he tossed one of your legs over his shoulders and ate you out. As his tongue and lips worked at your clit, your hips jerked and humped into him, electric warmth oozing from every inch of you because of the way he worked at you.
Todd was mumbling into your cunt but you couldn't hear any of it, you could only really register pleasure and you could only focus yourself enough to not toss your head back every time he licked or sucked at you right. You only came back to yourself as his fingers prodded at your entrance, and he gave a quick glance up at you as you desperately nodded your head yes before he pushed a finger into you.
"Holy fuck—" Your head fell back as you clenched around him, hands flying to his head. The combination of Todd's finger and the mouth on you had you moaning, a knot in your stomach tightening quickly as his finger began to work in and out in a languid pace, his finger curling and pressing upward in motions that had your head spinning.
"Mmmfuckfuckfuckyesfuck—" You stammered, forcing your head forward as you gripped at the roots of his hair and met his eyes. "Todd, Todd—fuck I swear—I'm getting close."
Todd was grinning into you and you could swear you heard him laugh a little, but your thoughts gave way into another wave of pleasure as he now pressed a second finger in to join the first one and the stretch made your mind go a little fuzzy. Your walls clenched around him as those fingers pressed up, and his tongue pressed tight little circles into your clit, and suddenly everything was unspooling.
"Todd!" You moaned, thighs clamping around his head as you came. He coaxed you through it with slow, gentle movements and a receding pace of fingers buried inside you, and when your head cleared of pleasure, you returned to find him watching you with a heated gaze, still buried between your legs.
"Fuckin' incredible." He murmured, thick and hoarse as he pulled back from you. His fingers left you and you whined, but then grew warm again as he brought them to his mouth, tasting them slow and deliberate as his eyes stayed fixed on you.
Todd raised an eyebrow. "That feel good?"
"Yeah. Fuck." You were still shaking a little, but you were more heated. You fumbled to sit up, reaching a hand for his pants and hesitating at the sight of his very noticeable bulge.
"God. Can—I want you inside."
"Need more stress relief, baby?"
"I think you need it too." You dragged fingers against the bulge, and Todd let out a low moan that had heat recurling in your stomach. "Don't deny it."
"Would never fuckin' deny you, sunshine, don't you worry." He struggled to get his pants off and you giggled, dazed and pleasured, as you helped him as he had helped you, before you were gazing at Todd fucking Stevens in his boxers and you tried not to explode.
He blinked at you and huffed. "The fuck you looking at me all starry-eyed for?"
"You're so handsome."
"I think I'm the one meant to be issuin' compliments here."
"I can call you an asshole a million times and it means nothing to you." You felt along his chest, his arms, before you reached his jaw, grazing the stubble beneath and around his lips as you met his eyes. "Calling you handsome and beautiful and hot as hell, though—something tells me that means a bit more to you, no matter how cocky your dumbass is."
He stared at you, breathing heavy and deep for a long moment. "Ain't you special." He said, sounding vaguely awed.
"I'm going to kiss you now. And then I want you to fuck me." You said with a small smile.
Todd groaned with a longing that you had never elicited in someone before. "Fuck, I wanna fuck you too."
You kissed him—fierce and hungry, teeth and lips and breath. You wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, you wondered if he could taste your want as vividly as you could taste his. You wondered if you would be able to walk tomorrow.
Then you slid off his boxers and came to the factual realization that you may not.
It had been… a while, of course, since sex and dicks and relating sizes, but he was beautiful. Pretty and well-sized and hard, you found yourself touching him before you realized, and you grinned up at Todd as he let out a slow breath.
"Fuckin' stroke it a little or something, goddamn, take a picture or some shit." Todd hissed, before your hand circled his length and you pumped at him. He groaned, leaning back slightly and thrusting his hips lazily up into your hands, precum beading at his tip and smearing against your hand as you stroked him.
"Feels so fuckin' good, sunshine, you don't even know—" Todd moaned a little and a thrill went through your stomach at being able to pull that noise from him. "You've got the hand of a fuckin' angel, swear to God…"
"Wanna fuck me?"
"I think I would settle for goddamn anything right now long as I could feel you." Todd's eyes pulled open as he gazed at you, before a hand pushed you back and you were regretfully pushed away from feeling him in your hand. He pumped at himself, looking down at you as another low groan rumbled from him.
"Gonna fuck all that tension outta ya." Todd murmured, his tip pressing into your folds and making you twitch slightly as he brushed against your clit. "Yeah, gonna make all your worries go away, gonna feel you around me—"
Todd grunted and rolled his hips into you, pressing himself inside slightly. You gasped, mewling as your back arched. You tried to force yourself to relax, but your legs were feeling weak and your cunt was already feeling so nice that it was hard to focus on anything.
"Deep breaths for me." Todd's hand cupped your face, forcing your eyes to him. "Deep breaths, gorgeous."
You took in a shaky breath and moaned as he pushed in, slowly bottoming out inside of you. Todd's eyes rolled back, and he made some kind of deep, guttural noise.
"Fuuuck, yeah, good girl—you're so fuckin' tight, doin' so good for me." He pulled out a little and pushed back in and you moaned again, pleasure warming every piece of your body. He was perfect. You felt full and warm and like you were floating on cloud nine. As Todd started to move, fucking into you, you let yourself surrender to pleasure as his hands clawed at your hips and he huffed out thick, heavy breaths above you, mixed with hoarse praise.
"You feel so goddamn good—pretty little thing—mmh—god, I needed this, needed you so bad—" He laughed a little at the look on your face as he hit a spot somewhere in you that had stars sparking in your eyes. "That feel good? You got this dumb lil' look on your face, baby, am I fucking you just right?"
You managed a nod and a weak whimper as his hand brushed against your cheek. Trying to speak only elicited words that trailed off, as every inhale and exhale was punctuated with moans and breathless hisses of Todd's name. You felt so, so fucking good, all tight and loose in the same way like your body was some perfect machine being unspooled and taken apart piece by piece by Todd.
Not like you minded.
For a moment all was flesh and pleasure, Todd's dick pressing in and out in a steady rhythm that was right in the middle and made it feel like your brain was dripping out of your ears. As he brushed against that spot again and again, you whimpered, recognizing the tightness in your gut.
"F-fuckk—I'm close again," you gasped. "please, please can I come—"
"Yeah, baby, go on. Come 'round my dick, lemme feel how good I make you feel." Todd's hand gripped your jaw, forcing your gazes to meet, and he grinned all wide and loopy on pleasure.
"Be a good girl and come."
You obeyed moments later, vision whiting out as you clenched down around him. Heat made your body tingle as your back arched and your hands clawed at the sheets, but your face could not move, locked onto Todd's gaze as he watched you like you were sin incarnate. He kept fucking you through the orgasm, but his pace started stuttering soon after.
"God, good girl, that felt so—shit—"
He pulled out of you, dick against your stomach, and you watched with a hazy gaze as his eyes unfocused and he came, cum spurting in three haphazard lines across your tummy.
For a second, both of you just sat there, breathing and basking in the immediate silence that followed sex.
"You alright?" You asked first, voice shaky. Your throat was dry, but you swallowed and blinked at Todd.
He smiled a little, nodding as his hold on your jaw gentled. He stroked a thumb along your cheek and nodded dazedly.
"More than good, sweetheart." He studied you with eyes attempting to clear. "You… you alright?"
"… I think I'm a bit less wound-up now." You said.
Both of you grinned, then you giggled, then Todd was bent over you and your naked bodies were pressing together as you pressed kisses to each other's lips and face and necks, lighthearted pecks and small nips that had the two of you chuckling against the other's skin.
You both laid there for a few minutes, with you half-cradled to Todd's chest as an arm was tossed around your shoulders and you traced mindless shapes against his chest.
"I don't wanna go." You murmured.
"Stay the night, then." Todd flicked at your ear. "You'd be more than welcome, y'know."
You glanced up at him. "And then what happens in the morning?"
He tilted his head. "I bring you breakfast, I drive you to your dorm, then I drive you to work and back."
"Don't you have anything else to do?"
"I'm a free man this weekend, baby." He nuzzled his nose down into your neck, ignoring your squirming. "That means I'm here for you. You're gonna have a good fuckin' weekend for once, yeah?"
"This is a good way to start a good weekend." You mused.
He pressed a kiss to your neck and smiled against your skin. "I know."
Eventually he came back with glasses of water and washcloths, and you wiped each other down, and you joked about his ability to do aftercare (because what frat guy stories ever said the aftercare was good?).
Todd just smiled as he tossed you a spare shirt of his to wear to bed. "There's a lot you don't know about me, ya know."
"Anything interesting I should know?"
"Nah." He tossed the covers on you once you slipped his shirt on, a smile on his face as he got into bed with you. He touched at your chin and tilted his head, a purposeful, slow smile on his face.
"Nothin' you gotta worry about."
You tucked into him, surprised that he was letting you stay this close. Your impression of frat guys overall had not really been the chivalrous and "stay over tonight" kinds of people.
And yet here he was, pressing his face into your head and mumbling something unintelligible about sleep and being cold and how your skin was soft.
This, you decided, was a mystery to solve another day.
You pressed into Todd, sleepy and satisfied, and fell asleep.
uhmm it's been almost two months since the last chapter?? I got writer's block with this story. BAD. and this chapter isn't me getting out of the ditch it's more like i clawed out spat something up and fell back down. WE PRESS ON THOUGH! what better time for a halloween story continuation than on christmas right??
everyone's support means so so SO much to me. Thank you again to Binz and Trixie, and thank you to Kris, you are all awesome and lovely and I appreciate it.
Hope everyone has a lovely holiday time over the next few weeks!
Come talk to me on here or @lostglassguitar on twitter! Much love all <3
first things first: i am sorry to hear that you got writer's block and that this chapter didn't help you out in overcoming it. halloween is the new xmas hehe WHAT A GIFT THIS WAS, HONESTLY!?
this new chapter made me giggle throughout the reading. i am one of stacy haters. do we recall the way she put nose into reader's business while todd was with his frat boys at the table? never liked her, never will. no one should ha-ha! the part where she started getting touchy af and threw a truly bitchy joke about the reader's attitude made me mad.
marcus is back at the pasta discourse (RIGATONI PASTAH-NO, it was cavatappi). how could we forget such a funny guy sksksksk i LOVED that part sm! a very needed flashback!
the reader saying to todd that they didn't know he had a tender side because who would expect a frat boy having some fluff inside of his soul, left me in shambles.
the smut part, flawless and well written.
in the end, you haven't lowered my expectations, instead i am very content with this new work of yours and i cannot wait for more to come.
I LOVE YOU BINNIE!!! this means a lot to me like woahhhh?? a full review??? absolutely nuts. your support fuels me the most!!
I am very proud that you are the founder of the Stacy Haters club, you are truly forging paths 🫡 she certainly cannot read a room or a situation !! she's based off many a person I've met who acts similarly, all of which are indeed very unlikable...
I like making little ocs/side characters in the fanfiction i do. stacy, marcus, drew, hannah, etc. marcus is much more 'frat boy'-esque than Todd in this but also he's obsessed with pasta because, like, everyone should be ! i want to be able to show our reader having a few relationships within KNA that aren't just Todd, Gettys, and Tom :)
also thank you!! been a HOT moment since I've written smut and I am so glad to hear you enjoyed <3
pairing: ghostface!todd stevens x f!reader (f-ish)
summary: In the wake of the campus killer's newest attack, you navigate a growing relationship with the people around you.
Todd is concerned. Stacy is an asshole. Hannah is nice.
You meet new people. You reconnect with the old.
You are wound up, and Todd takes notice.
AO3 LINK || <PREV CHAPTER
contains: swearing, normal frat stuff, minor descriptions of dead bodies, Todd's a liar but at least he's nice about it, SMUT 18+ ONLY PLEASE: oral sex, unprotected p in v sex, fingering. If I've forgotten anything, please tell me!
word count: 12.8k
A/N: this has not been checked for anything but spelling. many many MANY thanks to Binz and Trixie, your patience in me astounds me but I will always appreciate the love :)
merry christmas eve <3 enjoy the smut
(dividers by @/strangergraphics)
You hoped word didn't get out that you had been the one to call the police on a weekend evening, because half the dorms probably hated you because of how much noise was happening outside right now.
Red-and-blue lights flashed in your vision. You hadn't made it a week without seeing them. You stood outside the dorm building, wrapped in a shock blanket, watching people scurry over the area like scared little mice. For something that seemed to only involve one person, the cops seemed rather jumpy.
Whoever that had been anyways, they were gone. They hadn't even followed you up the stairwell—not that it would've mattered, because Sumpter's dorms didn't have cameras under state law.
"Have you found them yet?" You drew your blanket closer around you, eyes flicking up to the policeman who was typing something into his phone. "Whoever they killed?"
He shook his head. "You don't gotta worry about that."
"I was the person who called the body in last week," You insisted, jaw clenching. "If you're worried about me getting queasy, then that's in the damn past."
The officer held up a hand and sighed. "You'll be able to tell when they're found."
This was both true and untrue. You could see the spread of lawn behind the officer, where several law enforcement people were sweeping the area, through bushes and trash cans.
Your head was still spinning a little. Also, you were cold. You drew your blanket around you, wishing you still had your jacket—
Your jacket.
Your jacket, and your bag, and your phone.
"My jacket."
"Hm?" The officer looked up from his phone.
"My jacket and my bag. When I was getting chased, he pulled them off, they should've been right here if he left them—"
"What do they look like?" The officer pulled out his dopey little notepad, and you resisted laughing, because no normal person would laugh in a situation like this.
"Um, my jacket's… black. Black, puffy on the torso but not the sleeves and hood. It's got, like, this tear on the right shoulder that I patched with a band-aid."
"And your bag?"
"Small body bag. Also black, but it's got some pins on the front of it."
"Alright, hold on." The officer stepped away to another group, and you watched them speak to each other in low murmurs, occasionally glancing over to you. You hugged your knees to the chest and breathed a foggy exhale out into a similarly foggy night.
The sound of a door opening and closing behind you made you turn. One of the girls from earlier, the one who had beckoned you inside her dorm, was stepping outside, eyes sweeping over the scene and then turning to you. She had pulled on a jacket over her pajamas, but she didn't seem to care about her pants as she sat down on the step next to you.
"They're still keepin' you here?"
"Obviously." Your lips quirked, then you exhaled. "Sorry. Been… a night, as you can imagine."
"Yeah, sounds like some tough shit." The girl stuck out her hand. "Alyssa."
You shook her hand and introduced yourself. "Thanks for saving my life."
"Nah, you had that," she said with a snort. "I mean, the idea of you trying to slap the hell out of some masked guy chasing you? Pretty impressive. You would probably survive a horror movie."
"Considering we seem to be in the middle of one, I wouldn't be saying that." You shivered and pressed yourself closer into the shock blanket around you. "I just feel bad for whoever he killed."
"They still haven't found them yet? Didn't you point it out?"
"I did. The body might've been moved."
"Some shit…" Alyssa shook her head, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. "They should send you home, at the very least. I mean, it's late out, y'know? Doesn't matter that it's a weekend."
"I've got work later." You said, which was more of a reluctant remembrance than anything. You sighed and pressed your head into your hands, shaking your head. "Goddammit…"
"Yeah, okay, that's it, you need to get home." A hand patted your back, and you felt your new acquaintance shift next to you to likely get someone's attention, but there was the sound of your name being spoken from somewhere else and you raised your head to find an officer waving to you.
"We think we've found your bag. Could you come over and identify it?"
"Really?" Relief shot through you. You sprang to your feet, nodding. "Yes. Yeah, show me."
Your bag wasn't far from where it had originally been ripped from your body. It laid sprawled across a piece of grass around the corner of the building, your coat another short distance away. It looked… untouched. Which made you suspicious.
"That's my bag, yeah," you nodded. "Can I get my phone?"
The officer looked unsure for a moment, glancing between you and Alyssa, who stood behind you with her arms crossed like the world's best support. He took you in for a second, possibly gauging the exhausted look in your eyes, and he sighed.
"Try not to disturb it as much as possible, but yeah, go ahead," he said. "Don't tell anyone I did this, yeah?"
"Thank you," you said earnestly before you dove for your bag. You rifled through for a moment, searching more with your hand than your eyes as you sought out the smooth surface of your phone screen, yet even as things clinked around in your bag, you couldn't find it.
"… what is it?" Alyssa asked, reading your expression.
"I can't—" You opened the bag a little wider, which the officer likely didn't like, but you didn't care. Your eyes now scanned the inside of the bag, searching over every little item inside.
Realization and dread smashed coldly into your chest, fighting against each other as you limply set the bag down.
"He took my phone."
"What?" That was the officer.
"He took my fucking phone." You stood up, surprised that your shaky legs could support you, as your eyes moved between the two people standing near you. "He took my phone. He—I swear it was inside the bag—"
"Alright, alright, calm down." The officer held up a hand and retrieved his notebook. "Can I get your number? We'll keep it on record and try to track it down."
You gave them your number, hugging your arms to your chest and wistfully looking towards your coat. Just another piece of evidence, now. Something the masked man had touched, something that could lead the police on a wild goose chase that had already lasted far too long. You'd been much more neutral about the situation before you were fucking involved in it.
"Okay," the officer huffed out a breath. "Well, we'll find a way to contact you when the bag's been looked over so you can come pick it up. Otherwise, I think I'm authorized to release—"
A shout from across the green grass. People were aiming flashlights up a tree, someone lowering something large and limp down from the tree. There were shouts, murmurs, a duo of paramedics racing across the lawn to the limp thing as it was lowered to the ground.
Your stomach rolled, and you ripped your eyes away as fast as you could. You couldn't close your eyes without seeing that masked figure dragging the body that had just been found, the nick of red on the jacket that signified what kind of fate the girl had met.
"Come on." A new arm wrapped around your shoulders—Alyssa, pulling you close, casting a gaze over her shoulder at the group of people around the body. "Let's get you home."
You awoke at a wretched 11:30 that morning. You'd barely been able to sleep, had hardly gotten to bed until four. Returning to your dorm had meant waking up Hannah, who had sat horrified on her bed as you and Alyssa took turns exchanging the story.
Bless Alyssa, of course, who you had only just met yet still supported you and slipped you her number on paper whenever you got a new phone. Bless Alyssa who firmly said you needed sleep and bid the two of you farewell.
What you did not bless was your life right now, or the nightmares that had kept you from a good night's rest.
Hannah wasn't in your dorm when you finally forced yourself up. No note, either. You felt stranded without your phone, but you at least had your laptop, which you pulled up to research where one could buy a burner phone. The money you'd been pocketing off to the side from your job wasn't enough for an actual phone yet, so for now you would have to settle and pray the police found your phone.
You settled into your bed, laptop balanced atop your knees, and pictured the phone and bag returned to your hands after everything both had been through. Your phone, too. Did you even still want a device touched by the hands of a killer?
You buried your face in your hands and groaned, rocking back and forth. You had to get it together. Work was soon, and you needed a phone before then.
Hannah returned an hour later carrying snacks, the act surprising you as you pulled your things together.
"I'm sorry I've been shit." Hannah put a bag of snacks on your bed and settled on her own across from you. She crossed her feet and watched you for a moment as you searched through the bag. Generic snacks, but likable. She'd mostly grabbed a shit ton of various chocolates, which you could appreciate.
"You don't have to apologize," you said as you glanced back at her. "I've been treated worse."
"Ugh, babe, don't say that, you'll make me feel even worse," she said with a groan. "Listen, I've prioritized distance from most of my roommates over the years. Most roommates suck. They've got shitty cleanliness, or they do dumb stuff, or they expect me to leave for the night so them and their ugly boyfriend can bone, y'know? We keep to our own, and that's how it goes."
She picked at something under her nail and blew out a slow breath. "But… I mean, I was a jerk to you in the beginning because of that. I've had my own little world for a while and I thought I could keep going the way I was going, and when it all fell down, you were there. When I got dumped by a guy and forgotten about by my friends during that party, you were there. And then we found a dead body together and everything."
"I think the bar's kinda in hell." You said with a small smile.
Hannah laughed, shrugging her shoulders in a what can ya do sort of way. "I just mean… you're cool." She looked at you. "And I want us to be cool, alright? No matter what keeps happening."
You couldn't fault the girl for trying. You extended your pinky finger with a tentative smile and let her hook her own around yours.
"We're cool." You repeated.
"Good." Hannah hopped off her bed. "Now, I'm coming with you to work, because I don't have shit to do and I don't wanna be alone with some killer around campus."
"Don't sit there."
Hannah frowned, pausing on her way to the corner booth. "What? Why?"
"Just don't. Trust me." You shuddered at the thought of sitting in the booth and gestured to another nearby. "That one's good, it has nice lighting and perfect airflow."
"How much time do you spend in here if you know the optimal places to sit?" Hannah asked as she slid into the booth you'd recommended.
You rolled your eyes as you walked to the back. "You don't want to know."
The moment you stepped into the back of the restaurant, you spotted Stacy. You frowned at that. Stacy didn't work Sundays. Why was she—?
Stacy's eyes locked with you, and they widened, comically large. "Oh my goodness. You're not dead!" She cheered, clapping her hands together.
You stared at her. "What."
"Bryce has been trying to get ahold of you all day!" Stacy exclaimed, moving around a counter and throwing her arms around you as you grunted and stiffened. "You didn't text, and I heard another person got murdered, so I was thinking that it was maybe, gasp, you!"
"Why the fuck do you sound so cheerful?" You snapped, moving her arms off you.
She blinked. "Someone's touchy."
"I found the body last night, Stacy," you responded. "And I got chased by the guy who did it."
Stacy's eyes widened again, her mouth forming a near-perfect 'O' shape. "Oh, shit…" She murmured, before she grabbed your hand. "Well—even though I have your shift, maybe you can stay and tell me all about it—"
"No, would you stop touching me?" You pulled yourself away from her again, trying to gather your thoughts. "Stacy, please be grown-up for five seconds and listen to me. So what I'm hearing is I'm off today?"
Stacy nodded slowly. "… yeah. Burke—"
"Bryce."
"—Bryce gave me your shift because you weren't answering."
"Yes, okay, I got that. Listen, the asshole stole my phone, I'll give you the number of the burner phone I just got."
"So… you're not staying?"
You shot a glare up at Stacy as you scribbled down your number on a random napkin. "Tell Bryce that's my number for now." You said as you firmly put it in her hands. "I can't deal with this right now, alright?"
Stacy frowned. "Come on. You're acting like you're the one who died."
You resisted the urge to slap her and stomped out of the backroom, your thoughts tangled up in your head.
Hannah was still on her phone, having taken none of her study items out of her bag. She blinked at you as you emerged, a crease to her brow. "What's going on?"
"I'll explain on the way to the bus stop. We're going back."
"Well, shit, now what are we gonna do? I don't wanna sit in the dorm all day thinking about everything!"
You watched her groan and flop around on the booth and fidgeted with the sleeve of your coat, before you sighed. "… I think I have a place."
The Kappa Nu Alpha fraternity house looked different in the daytime.
There were still decorations. The lawn looked like it had been puked on by the ghost of Frat Boy Halloweens. You hadn't realized how chaotic the spread had been before, but in the light, every decoration sin was spread out for the eye to see.
"This would give my mom a heart attack." Hannah commented, hugging her arms to herself as the two of you stared at the decorations. "I think she would cry tears seeing this."
"It looks better at night," you said as you walked up the stairs.
Hannah wrinkled her nose as she followed you. "Where do you think they get all the money for this stuff?"
"You know frats can get, like, funded and shit, right?" You peered over your shoulder at her, watching her study the decorations with no small amount of confusion.
"Doesn't sit right with me. Whatever." She clutched her things closer. "Let's go find your stupid boyfriend."
The house was silent, which made you realize you hadn't been here after a party before. There was still evidence of last night—haphazard beer cans, several bras, an entire box of snack-sized chips. It felt like every frat boy in the house had been raptured and the two of you were the only ones to see the aftermath.
"I think a bomb went off in here," you murmured. "I didn't really… register the mess last night."
"That happens when there's people milling around like a bunch of handsome, stupid idiots." Hannah said with a wistful sigh. You resisted the urge to smack her on the head.
The two of you wandered the downstairs of the house for a few minutes, searching for any sign of life before you eventually wandered into the kitchen. This was the first sign of life you'd seen, though as the two of you stood in the doorway, you quietly regretted finding this first.
Five frat guys were clustered in the kitchen, three of them watching as the other two continued tossing some kind of snack back and forth through the air, attempting to catch the snack in their mouth. It was the kind of activity that probably started when people were seven, except most people did not do this anymore.
The second the guys became aware of you, five pairs of eyes swiveled towards you and Hannah. There was an awkward, lingering silence for a moment before a cheerful voice exclaimed, "Pasta chick!"
A familiar, friendly face elbowed his way through the crowd. Marcus, pasta guy from a few weeks ago, beamed at you like he was seeing Jesus reincarnated. "The hell are you doing here?"
"You know him?" Hannah murmured.
"Hi, Marcus," you said politely. "I'm looking for Todd? Is he around?"
"Oooooooo," the rest of the frat boys cooed, like a flock of teenage girls or perhaps very hungover pigeons. Marcus swatted at all of them as he clambered past, wearing mismatched socks and a shirt far too large to be his.
"Mr. Prezzzz, hmm." He put a hand to his chin, gnawing on his lip. "He should be up, yeah. Might be working on some shit, though."
"Could you bring us to him?" You felt like you were negotiating with an enemy nation. You resisted the urge to blurt out that you were mayyyybe possibly on the path to dating the guy, so maybe they could be more helpful in locating your possible new boyfriend?
"Oh, yea, of course!" Marcus snatched a beer from the fridge and cracked it open with a lazy grin. "I've got so many pasta things to tell you about on the way. You were right by the way, it was cavatappi I was thinking of that night—"
Hannah shot you a look. Probably wondering how you'd vaguely befriended more frat guys than she had. You gave her a helpless shrug and followed Marcus upstairs.
Marcus was counting doors for a good few minutes, leading you down hallways before pausing and turning the other way, then turning again, then thinking very hard as he sipped at his beer. He almost never stopped talking the whole time—apparently when you had met him, you were lucky enough to meet the drunk, lax version of him. This version was all energy as he got lost inside his own frat house.
Finally, he led the two of you to a door that had a DO NOT DISTURB sign front and center. Giving the two of you a reassuring nod, he knocked heavily on the door. There was a muffled sound that you couldn't make out, but Marcus seemed to take it as permission as he pushed the door open.
Todd was sprawled on a large, comfortable looking chair in the corner of the room, which was really just filled with furniture, tables, a few medals, some random ass portraits, and a a statue of ducks in flight. Which… was weird. So weird. You were almost more distracted by the ducks than Todd.
The distraction did not apply to Todd. His eyes whipped up and connected with yours, widening as he put his laptop down and stood, walking over.
"What're you doin' here?" He asked quietly. "Thought you were working today."
The room felt smaller, warmer, now that he was here. You took in the first full breath you had since last night and tried not to burst into tears in Hannah and Marcus' presence.
"Can we talk?" You asked quietly.
Todd's eyes shifted from you to Marcus to Hannah. He nodded immediately, taking your arm and giving it a gentle squeeze beneath his warm hand. "Yeah. Yeah, 'course. C'mere."
The two of you found yourselves in a hallway again. It was different than last night, a little colder somehow than the party atmosphere you'd last seen the house in. This time, instead of leaning against opposite walls, Todd leaned against the window at the end of the hallway as you stood in front of him.
"What's goin' on?" His eyes searched your face. He was touchy, so fucking touchy, but you didn't give a damn as his hand cupped your cheek.
Everything gushed out. You told him about the walk back, and the masked figure, being chased, your phone, your friend, your job, fucking Stacy. Everything poured out of you in a string of words, your voice shaky but constant.
Todd listened the whole way. His eyes remained steady and locked onto you, hand never straying from your cheek. He just listened. It felt good, that someone listened, that someone cared, that you had someone to fall back on despite all the shit going on in your life.
When finally your breath failed you and there were no words left to say, Todd exhaled, pressing his lips together. "Shit, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. C'mere."
He pulled you into a hug, which surprised you, but from the way your body instinctively reacted, you realized you'd needed one more than you thought. You pressed your face into his chest, taking in some distant cologne scent, and let him hold you. One thumb stroked against the back of your neck while his other hand stroked your back slowly.
"I didn't know you had a tender side." You mumbled into him, lips pulling up slightly as Todd's chuckle vibrated warmly against you.
"You think so little of me, dontcha?" The thumb flicked at your ear, and he hummed lowly. "Have a little faith that I can take care of ya."
Your stomach did a little flip at that. You huffed and let him hold you.
"So we're good?" Hannah plopped down on the couch as she was asking that, blinking wide eyes at Todd. "We can chill here for the day?"
"Yeah, yeah, you two won't be bothered." The president leaned against the doorway to the room, his arms folded like it wasn't exposing his muscles and making you openly stare. He smirked at the sight of you looking and raised an eyebrow, which made you pointedly glare at him and turn away.
"I'll make sure of it," Todd continued to address Hannah. "I'll try to make sure the boys give you two a berth, though they, ah, might try and win your heart over."
"Aww." Hannah beamed. "I'm flattered."
"I'm not." You mumbled, scowling down at your laptop.
"Don't you worry, sunshine." A large hand squeezed down on your shoulder, and you craned your neck up to see Todd looking down at you.
"They ain't gonna bug you." He said, voice quieter as his hand moved to brush over your jaw. "I'll make sure of that."
You stared at him for a moment, sure you were looking a little dumb, before you blinked and smiled a little. "Thank you, I suppose."
"'You suppose'," Todd repeated. "as if I'm not graciously using my presidential ability—"
Your hand reached up and gripped his collar as you brought him down to kiss you. You felt him grin against your lips, and his hand snaked around to the front of your throat, holding your face up as he pressed kiss after kiss to your lips.
When he pulled back, you raised an eyebrow. "Is that a good thank you?"
"Mmm." He patted at your cheek and sauntered out of the room, though you could hear his smile. "I'll accept it."
You turned your gaze back to Hannah, who was looking at you with some mix of amusement and jealousy. "Not a word."
"I can't believe you got a boyfriend within your first couple of months here." She sighed, shaking her head as she drew her knees to her chest and opened a book. "This is, like, the most unfair thing that has ever happened to me."
"You could get a guy, I'm sure." You waved behind you. "Clearly men are available around here."
Hannah stuck her tongue out at you, and you giggled and flung one of the couch pillows at her. Yesterday was easy to forget like this, right now.
Maybe everything would be alright.
Everything sucked ass and you were going to bury yourself in a hole.
"D. D?." You stared blankly at the paper in your hand. You had done everything right. Everything right. You'd followed formatting and submission rules to a T, busted your ass to get time so you could print the paper and hand it in. Your paper had extensive research, sources, perfect connections, a united idea following the outline you had made. You had tried your damn hardest. And you'd gotten a D, which was the first time in nearly three years you'd gotten a grade that low.
You raised your gaze to Professor Anderson, who raised an eyebrow like your reaction surprised him. "I-I don't really understand, sir, could I ask you directly what's so wrong with my paper that makes you give it a D?"
Your professor sighed and put down his pen, murmuring your last name. "Your paper was correctly formatted, of course, but your arguments, they just… did not meet my criteria."
You blinked a few times. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Yes, I can tell you don't." He sighed again. "This is a social studies class. When you debate issues, you need to separate the self from the issue."
"I thought you said this assignment was freeform and could be based on personal opinion as long as we had the outside citations to back it up," you protested. "I looked over the requirements, like, a million times, I followed instructions to a T—"
He held up a hand. "I don't need you arguing with me. This is the grade I've given you. Learn from it, improve, and show me you can do better."
Your head was buzzing as you exited the classroom, whorls of confusion and anger and rage that circulated like they were the blood keeping your body alive.
You were furious, truly so. A grade like this would drop shit significantly from your overall grade, which was a whole domino effect that could hurt everything else, all because, what, a professor couldn't give you a proper answer for why the paper you'd spent so much energy on sucked? It was stupid and you hated the man and—
A firm hand squeezed at your shoulder. You blinked, sharply drawn back to the present as Todd murmured your name intently. "Are you with me?"
"Yes. Yeah. Sorry."
"I asked what grade you got." He lingered close to you, leaning against the wall where he'd been waiting out in the hallway while you talked to Anderson.
"I got a fuckin' D." You shoved the paper at him with too much force, but Todd caught it easily, raising an eyebrow as he glanced over the paper.
"Wasn't this the one you tried really hard on?" He scoffed. "That's fuckin' bullshit, sunshine, I ain't gotta be a genius to tell that."
"I tried asking him what reasons there were for the bad grade and he didn't give me anything." You threw your arms up in the air, exasperated, before you snatched the paper back. "Can you believe that?"
"Outrageous." Todd agreed, crossing his arms over his chest with a sigh.
You nudged him. "What grade did you get?"
"I don't want to make your bad mood worse."
"Todd."
"A." His smile was low and smug yet apologetic. You slapped at his chest, and he gasped, grinning as he twisted away from you.
"Don't kill the messenger here, the hell?" He poked at you, and now it was your turn to smile as you batted his hand away. "Just because you're all wound up doesn't mean you should take it out on me, you know."
"We don't exactly have a rage room at the college, so you might as well be the subject of my wrath, no?" You smiled a little as you shoved your stupid, failed paper into your tote bag, and the two of you began walking down the hall. "I'm not 'all wound up', by the way, I'm just… working shit out."
"Well, you've got me, no?" He shoved his hands in his pockets, doing that same lax, long-legged walk that he could achieve with his height. "I'm just saying if you are wound up, I could help."
About five million thoughts flashed through your head in an instant, absolutely none of them proper. You watched Todd from the corner of your eye, quickly running through the best things you could possibly say in this scenario.
It would be a lie to say you hadn't thought about sex. Obviously, frats were known for their raunchiness, and you had witnessed your fair share of it over the last few weeks, but you still couldn't fully identify where Todd fell on that scale.
He'd been normal with you. As normal as you could call it, that was, considering everything happening in your life right now. He was teasing, and an asshole, and charming, with the nicest hands and a lovely voice.
So what if you had thought about him touching you in different ways. That was normal, right? Was he even insinuating such a thing right now? What did it mean for you if he was?
God, you needed practice with this relationship thing. You were clearly a bit of a lost ship at sea.
"I can tell your brain's moving a little bit too fast right now." Todd reached out and took your hand, easily enveloping you as he tugged you down a nearby hallway. "You wanna tell me what's going on?"
"I'm not playing 20 Questions with you today, Todd, I gotta get to work," you said. "but I am fine, I can assure you."
"No, you are not." This observance was softer. His eyes were piercing, piercing, piercing like nothing you'd ever known before. His hand cupped at your jaw now, and he tilted his head.
"Could I give you just a little something before you go, then?" His breath ghosted across your lips, his own expression turning into a slow smile at the way you squirmed under him.
"If you must," you murmured, and then, quicker—"Please."
His lips moved into yours before you could form another thought. Slow, easy, he stole the breath from your lungs and made it his own. You could feel him, and he could feel you. Your arms were around his neck and his were around your waist, and for a moment, in between kisses and breaths, all that existed was the two of you.
Then your alarm rang in your pocket, the alarm that said you really needed to get moving or you would miss the bus soon, and Todd pulled away with a reluctant groan in the back of his throat.
"Quit your job." He mumbled, pressing his forehead into the top of your head.
"I can't say I haven't thought of it," you said with a grin. "but unfortunately, I'm not giving Stacy the satisfaction of being the last one standing."
"Ah. Yes. Stacy." His grip on your hips tightened for a moment before he pulled away and looked down at you. "You would tell me if you were getting bullied, right?"
"Christ, Todd, this isn't high school." You snorted. "I don't think bullies exist."
"Bullies exist." He raised an eyebrow. "I run a group of assholes, don't you think I would know that?"
"… fair point."
"I know." He tapped a finger on your lips. "You would tell me, right?"
"Yeah, I complain to you about everything at this point anyways." You made a move to bite his finger, and he pulled it away, smiling. "What would you do about it though? Complain to my manager about my asshole coworker?"
"Mmm, so you are being bullied?"
You gave him a firm look.
He just grinned. "I would do what any law abiding citizen does and stand up for the girl I like."
"I don't trust you for some reason."
"I'm hurt, sunshine."
"You're the president of a frat, Todd."
"All the more reason to trust me. I know about responsibility."
You sighed and hefted your tote bag higher over your shoulder, rolling your eyes dramatically. "I'm going to work now, Todd."
He followed you, still smiling the same way. "Feeling less wound up?"
"I'm still wound up."
"We'll have to fix that then, no?"
You resisted the flutter in your chest and smashed your lips into a neutral expression. He was an ass, and you were very, very fond of him.
He was nearly enough to distract you from the poster you passed by, something about a candlelit ceremony for the death of one Caroline Evans, sorority president of two years.
Nearly.
"Your burner phone keeps ringing whenever you're not in the break room."
You glanced up from where you were vigorously wiping down a table, watching Stacy lean against the wall and fidget with the pen in her hands.
"There's no way it rings every time."
"Every. Time." She groaned. "Listen, I know you're mad at me or whatever—"
"Whatever." You mumbled under your breath.
Stacy barrelled on. "—but can't you spare me the horrors of listening to your damn phone ringing all the time? Who's calling you so much, anyways?"
You sighed as you finished wiping the table. "If it annoys you so much, yes, I will go fix it, just stop complaining to me, okay?" You moved past her with a sigh, before the sound of your name made you pause.
"I don't get what I did to upset you." Stacy hesitantly touched at your arm, wrinkling her nose. "You know I don't mean any offense by talking about the murder stuff, right? Like, I know it's happening right now, and that you're having a rough time, but I'm just trying to know what's going on."
You took a slow breath. "Maybe I can acknowledge that, but you're acting flippant about the fact that I, specifically, don't want to talk about it. There are plenty of people I'm sure you could ask, but I don't want to talk about it."
"Ignoring it won't make it go away, you know." Stacy retracted her touch as she watched you walk away. "I'm just curious!"
You didn't respond as you weaved through the restaurant, taking a moment to pause and breathe against the wall.
The moment your eyes closed there were images. A man lying in a pool of blood and a girl's jacket spotted with a clean slice of blood, her distant body being lowered from a tree.
Jeez, maybe Todd was right. You were very wound up right now.
Technically, that would make Stacy a bit right too, but you weren't willing to admit that.
Just as you entered the break room, you heard it—the distant, muffled ringing of your phone inside your bag. You'd set it aside more out of practicality than anything. There was no Internet to scroll, really, just messages, but even those could cost you if you labored over them. It only left you more annoyed that someone was calling you. You didn't know if you could be faulted for that or not.
You rummaged in your bag before you pulled the phone out, silently praying that whatever this was didn't count as an emergency. Upon finding it, though, you blinked down at the phone.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
Who on Earth would randomly call a burner phone number, you wondered? You ran over the numbers you'd been learning so much recently (this is what a lost phone did to you), but instead settled on simply answering the number.
"Yeah, hello?" You asked as you pressed the phone to your ear.
Silence answered you. There was nothing to greet you on the other end.
"Hello?" You tried again. "If you're speaking, I can't hear you."
Nothing, nothing, nothing. It felt like you were speaking into a void and there was nobody on the other end.
Just as you were about to hang up, you heard a noise. Slight, slight shuffling, and some noise like a breath.
"… hello?" You said one more time, slowly. "I hear you."
The line went dead.
You pulled back and stared at your phone, brow wrinkling puzzledly. "How weird." You murmured, putting the phone back in your bag.
"Are you done in there? I just sat some people in your section!" Stacy's voice came through the air, and you resisted the urge to groan.
"Yes, I'm done. I'm coming!" You called over your shoulder, running a frustrated hand down your face as you exited the room.
You didn't really have the time to think about the phone, but you still found a way to think about it through the rest of your shift. Every wiped table gave you time to run over what had just happened, like feeling a gap in your teeth.
There were pieces missing to everything, obviously. Like every carefully constructed thread you'd lined up in the last few months was unspooling all at once in front of your face. The only thing you could do was move on, cryptic phone calls or not.
When you finally exited work, weary and sore, you blinked at the sight in the parking lot. Todd Stevens was leaning against a car, kicking idly at a rock beneath his feet. When you paused in your tracks, his head raised, and he raised a lazy wave to you with a stupidly smug look on his face.
You grinned. What an asshole.
"What the hell are you doing here?" You jogged across the parking lot. "I thought you had a meeting today or something."
"Half the time when I say 'meeting', I mean 'me and some other guys are gonna get high and drunk and fuck around'." Todd crossed his arms and then abated with, "And then the other half of the time it is an actual meeting, so I won't fault you for this, now that I'm thinkin' about it."
"Asshole." You punched at his bicep, watching him amusedly mouth ow and rub at the spot. "You came to pick me up?"
"I figured my shitty car was a bit of a grade up from a shitty bus," he said. "unless you would prefer the bus—"
"Mmm, no, the car, the car." You leaned up and grabbed his shirt to pull him down into a kiss. "Thank you." You said sincerely when the two of you parted. "It's a nicer way to do it than stressing about which stop to get off on."
Todd tilted his head, smiling. "Glad to chauffer, then."
His car wasn't terrible. A bit of junk, yeah. A few empty beer cans crammed where they couldn't be seen, a few wrappers from snacks, a drink holder encrusted with hellspawn you didn't wish to know the origin of. You expected all of it. But you still sat and found that you were entirely comfort in his car.
"How was work?"
It took you a moment to answer Todd considering his arms were out yet again today. You wondered how lethal he was in summertime when his arms were likely out even more.
You wondered how insane it made you that you were already thinking about spending you summertime with Todd Stevens. Jesus Christ, what had this man done to you—
"It was fine. Stacy's been pissing me off." You huffed and picked at a nail. "She's been, like, utterly persistent in finding ways to be rude to me. I just—she's always been a little odd, but she'd been incredibly inconsiderate in a way that almost feels purposeful? I don't get it."
"She's buggin' you about the murder." It wasn't a question.
You exhaled. "Yeah. She is." Your gaze wandered from Todd to the window, watching the world pass by. "I don't think she understands how big of a deal this is. She thinks it's just some fun story she can hear about, when it's really my damn life."
"Yeah, you don't deserve that shit on top of everything else goin' on." Todd said lowly, the sound of his voice soothing the part of you that was growing heated. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You just ignore her ass, alright? I'm glad you told me, of course, but the best thing you can do is show her you aren't taking shit."
"I think I might be the ultimate shit-taker," you mused. "considering all the falls I've been taking lately."
"Falls are different than shits. Shits are worse." Todd tapped a finger on the wheel. "Remember; I know."
"Mmm. How's the frat going?" It seemed a weekly question, but you still found yourself asking every time.
"Everyone's okay. Excited for Halloween, y'know. We've got a… real reputation goin' for us, so I gotta give folks a show."
"You gonna tell me what you've got planned for this weekend?" You asked hopefully.
"Just because I like your ass doesn't mean I spoil my plans, sunshine." Todd said with a look in your direction.
You leaned over towards him with a dramatic sigh, tapping fingers along his arm closer to his neck. "What if I beg?" You asked quietly, blinking at him with wide eyes.
Todd took in a very deep breath and pulled over the car.
Your lips twitched as he turned to you. "The fuck kinda flirting you pulling on me when I'm driving?"
"Are you surprised?" You asked.
"Damn, yeah, I didn't think you could flirt."
"Okay, well fuck you, asshole—"
"Is that what you want?"
You faltered, gazing at Todd for a moment as your cheeks turned hotter and hotter. You couldn't even muster up a good response, too lost in the glint in his eyes and the way he was leaning close, so close.
"… maybe," you said finally. "if, you know, your schedule's open sometime."
Todd tilted his head, eyes slowly running over you. Up and down, up and down, his fingers toyed with the collar of your shirt as he hummed.
"I want a yes. Not a maybe." Todd said, voice a low and throaty murmur. "You gotta want it."
You couldn't breathe. He was so close and you were in a car on a public road and he smelled so fucking good.
"… rain check, then?" You whispered, not trusting your voice to work.
"Atta girl."
Todd's lips closed over your own, his hand pressed around your throat as you both tried to take each other in with the center console between you. Todd pressed closer more successfully, his height stretching over the space as he crowded you back, intense and overbearing in the best way possible. You regretted each breath you took away from his lips, eager to press back into him as the two of you hummed and giggled like two fools as you took up the car space in a very unnatural position that you loved nonetheless.
Eventually, the two of you parted, and he grinned at you, eyes glittering. "I don't think I could ever get tired of this."
"It's not even been a week, you know."
"I know." He nipped at your lip and darted away, pulling the car back out before you could pounce on him in retaliation. "I'm saying that as a decision and an instinct."
Saturday reached you like a race car with somewhere to be. You'd never been one to often say how "time flew by", but this week had been full of activities and classes and you'd hardly done anything but float on a recovering sort of cloud nine, trying to forget all that had happened to you in the last few weeks.
You had met with Alyssa and her roommate, Lizzy. The two of them were sweet—same year as you, Lizzy studying nursing and Alyssa studying business. It felt good to establish another branch of your college tree, gain some new friends. They were normal and real and established, which was what you needed right now.
Todd, too, was stable. You spent three days that week in the KNA frat house, taking up space you didn't need to, though Todd insisted he didn't mind. Sometimes he was there in his makeshift office working on something, or sometimes around the house, but nobody ever bugged you and you never felt unsafe there.
How strange, the circumstances you'd ended up in. How wonderful.
As Saturday rolled around, this time you were prepared. You stuffed things into your small bag and made sure to map out a plan in your head. You would not be caught by a killer this time. No way in hell.
"Still not feeling the party urge?" You asked Hannah, who shook her head.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we're switching habits. I'd rather sit here with some ice cream and veg out, y'know?" Your roommate, who was beginning to be considered a friend, sprawled out on her bed. "Have fun, though. And be safe. Seriously. Make your boyfriend drive you or something."
"I don't really think he's my boyfriend yet."
"Don't you guys make out, like, every time you see each other?"
You warmed at this accusation, though it was entirely accurate. You and Todd had been making out quite a lot, actually. Warm murmurs and touches, his breath on your neck, his hands wandering slow and gentle and never going too far.
He insisted it was stress relief, which, yeah, sure. You were pretty sure you came out of each session a little more wound up, though. Knowing him, it would be what he wanted.
"We haven't established a relationship status just yet, alright?" You said with a sigh as you tugged a jacket on over your… outfit. Costume. Whatever. "Bye, Hannah, have a good night."
"Bye." She sighed and flopped over to her laptop.
The Kappa Nu Alpha fraternity house was covered in red.
You'd been there yesterday, but somehow all of the previous decorations out front had been swapped for things in red. Haphazard red streamers were tossed anywhere they could hang, some already rolling across the ground or being tossed by the wind. A loitering pack of sorority girls were standing near the entrance, lighting cigarettes for each other while they huddled together for warmth because fuck was it cold tonight.
"You going in or out?" You asked them.
"Out, sadly," one of the girls said. "we've got somewhere else to be, but it's great in there tonight. KNA's, like, really turned it up a notch this year."
"Hope you aren't wearing anything too stainable under that jacket." Another girl said, gesturing to you.
You blinked. "Should I be concerned?"
"Mmm. She got her outfit a bit, uh… messy." She nodded to a third girl, who stood to reveal that her entire front was coated in something dark and red.
Fake blood.
Oh, lord, was the theme tonight related to blood? Of course.
"Thanks for the warning," you said. "have a nice night."
Inside was red.
The music playing over the speakers seemed to be heavy metal, though after entering you heard the song end and it swung into something pop-related—but still singing about blood and love and bleeding for youuuu you know that's what I'll doooooo…
It was chaos. The ground floor was entirely covered in plastic drop cloths, which were already smeared with marks of fake blood.
"Jesus fucking Christ," you mumbled, stepping aside to a small area that had been set aside for people to place their shoes. Sure. You were sure this would go well.
Just as you were looking for the best place to put your shoes, a familiar voice greeted you. "MISS VIP PASTA LADY!"
"Hi, Marcus." You said, already turning around. You blinked at the man, who was shirtless and in swim shorts, grinning, absolutely coated in blood aside from his hands. "… um. What happened to you?"
"The party happened!" Marcus threw his hands up with a grin. "We've been having a great night already, lemme tell ya—the work was a shit ton, but it was worth it."
"I'm not even sure what to think." You gestured around. "So the theme tonight is… blood?"
"You ever heard that one saying?" He scratched at the hint of a goatee on his chin. "That, like, blood is thicker than water?"
"Yyyyup. Obvious fact."
"Well tonight, KNA's focusing on the purity of what blood means for the season of spooky. You know?" He spread his hands. "A night of fuckin' rebirth and delight, shedding insecurities and letting yourself get loose and messy and wild."
You winced. "Your parties are kinda usually wild, no? I mean, I like the idea, of course—" You cut yourself off as a small thought occurred to you. "Are all the KNA guys… mostly naked?"
Marcus grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. "Sooo, I've been sent to, uh, collect your items and put them in a safer space." He raised his hands innocently. "See, my hands are clean, I won't hurt 'em."
You were concerned with what floors upstairs he would hurt considering his feet were red, but you sighed and took off your shoes, socks, jacket, and bag. "You promise I'll get these back?"
"Oh, yeah, duh." He smiled as he took them. "This is Todd's house, and you're Todd's, so what the man says, the man gets. In this case, it's the preservation of your stuff." He nodded at your outfit. "Nice costume, by the way."
"I bought it at Spirit Halloween for, like, twenty-five bucks." You said with a shrug. You were clad as a cowgirl, minus the signature hat because you couldn't purchase it, but you figured the fake belt buckle, bandana, and vest could tell your story where the hat couldn't. Either way, it was a fine outfit. Though you were pretty sure cowboys did not dress like this.
"I liiiike it." Marcus nodded with an airy smile, then waved your items. "Aight, I'm gonna go put these upstairs. Enjoy the party." He shot you a grin like he knew something you didn't and awkwardly waddled away with your things.
You sighed and began searching for Todd.
Your original thought that the entire ground floor was covered in plastic drop cloths was true, which astounded you before you remembered rich boys got admitted to frats. The thought, though sobering, was also amusing. Hey, Dad! Used that money you sent me to buy drop cloths for a party so people could smear fake blood all over the house.
It seemed that some people had come prepared for this scenario. Some people just wore basic red shirts they wouldn't seem to mind getting stained, some wore white shirts they were purposefully ruining, some people wore skimpy red outfits so they could show off their physique while fake blood ran down their body. Though you felt out of place and were largely focusing on not slipping on the plastic floor coverings, there was a sort of air about the night that you couldn't deny.
Finally, you slipped a corner and found a crowd gathered around something. You recognized this as the room that people often performed in, but from where you stood, you couldn't see what was going on. You found yourself able to somewhat elbow through people, considering many of them were drunk and not entirely paying attention, so you could really get a good look at the situation.
When you finally got to the front, you stopped in your tracks.
Todd Stevens was shirtless and drenched in blood, an axe in hand as "Hip to be Square" blasted over the speakers in the room. On the stage with him was Gettys, his hair slicked back in a more purposeful style than usual, a lazy grin on his face that was clearly bolstered by the amount of whooping people in the crowd. He had somehow stayed clean of blood and was noticeably not shirtless, though something told you this was about to change.
"Most people probably don't listen to the lyrics," Todd was addressing Gettys with a grin, giving a meaningful look to the crowd that had people shrieking. "but they should. Because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity and the importance of trends—it's also a personal statement about the band itself."
Todd stepped forward and raised his axe, making a gesture to the crowd that said cheer. People followed it like moths to a flame, chanting "KILL" at the top of their lungs while some sang drunkenly along to the old, catchy song in the background.
"Hey, Gettys!" Todd said cheerfully before bringing the axe down in a mock—but convincing—swing.
You had absolutely no idea where the fake blood came from, but it came. Gettys gasped dramatically, clutching at his chest as he staggered back and collapsed to the ground. Todd immediately followed, straddling the man as he raised the axe again and again and did mock hits.
You weren't sure you'd ever heard Todd yell. You were even less sure why hearing him do so was turning your stomach hot.
You watched Gettys spurt fake blood onto both him and Todd, splattering the president's face in fake red that was dripping off of him by the time he climbed off Gettys, panting, before spinning to the crowd with a grin that made your knees week.
"Now." He dropped the axe to the stage and spread his arms. "Is that a fuckin' show or what?"
Applause erupted. Todd grinned and flicked his hands coated in blood at the audience, prompting lighthearted shrieks from the people. He then helped Gettys up with a bloody hand, who wiggled his eyebrows and tossed his shirt off, which prompted more screaming from the crowd.
"Where's Max and Shaun?" Todd shouted into the crowd. "Get y'alls asses up here and put on a show!"
Two other frat guys clambered onto the stage, one slapping the other's ass, both wielding inflatable blow-up women that were already smeared very prominently with blood. You dreaded where this was going, but as your eyes swept to where Todd and Gettys were disappearing into the crowd, you realized you were missing your chance to reunite.
With the heat in your chest intensifying at the sight of Todd's back muscles flexing in the dim light, it felt instinctual to follow the two.
"Todd. Gettys. Todd!" You called over the music pumping through the house. The two turned, Gettys grinning widely as he tossed his hands up.
"Look who it is! Looking very bloodless there."
"I paid money for this outfit, I'm not seekin' to get it ruined quite yet." You protested, batting away his reaching hand and receiving a laugh for your efforts.
Todd had not said anything yet, and when your gaze turned to him, you realized it was because he was staring at you with the hungriest look in his eyes you had ever seen.
"Hey, baby." He murmured, stepping closer.
"Hiya." You smiled. "Didn't know you guys were doing a performance, when was that a thi—"
His hand grasped your chin and he kissed you.
It was slow and hungry tonight. You tasted corn syrup on his lips, mildly sweet, as red passed from his mouth to yours.
Gettys whistled lowly. You pressed into Todd until you became aware of needing breath and pulled back, panting. "What was that for?"
Todd's thumb smeared over your lips. You became aware that your mouth and chin were now smeared with blood, but something heated inside of you did not care in the least.
"Present." He muttered, sounding dazed, before he blinked at you and raised an eyebrow. "You like the performance?"
"I only caught the tail end of it, but yeah, it was… something." You nodded at Gettys. "What did Gettys do to get murdered?"
"Hoarded beers." Todd wiped his mouth against the back of his hand, which did nothing to remove the fake blood. "Like a bitch."
"Ah, right. Of course." You gave Gettys a look, who shrugged like what can ya do? "Well, I'm sure he deserved it."
"Hey now," Gettys started, but Todd just nodded sagely, still drinking you in with eyes that were deep and dark as could be.
"You understand." Another touch to your chin. "You wanna come talk while I wash this off?"
"Now that sounds bad for the pipes." You grinned and nodded. "Of course I will."
Todd was silent for a small time as the two of you lingered in an upstairs bathroom. The water rushing against his hands came out red, red, red as he scrubbed under his nails and mostly up his forearms. You watched him silently, leaned against a wall with your arms crossed, yet neither of you lingered in an uncomfortable silence.
"You looked… good," you murmured in the silence. "I mean—you still do, but you, um… that was hot? It sounds weird saying that out loud."
Todd gave you a slow grin, face still splashed with blood. "With confidence, sunshine."
You stared up at him. "You're hot."
"Good girl." He took a wet paper towel and slowly dragged it over your skin, holding your chin and moving it side to side to take all the blood away. "Is that what gets you hot and bothered? Hm? Watching me yell and murder a guy?"
"Shut up." You felt warm.
"I'm serious."
You were feeling even warmer. He was standing so, so close, all shirtless and bloody, with a pulsing jaw and intense eyes.
"Yeah." You breathed up to him. "Plenty gets me hot and bothered regarding you anyways, but that was—" You huffed. "—that was good, okay? You've been… so fucking hot this whole week, and that really felt like the final straw."
"In a good way?" He asked.
"In a good way." You affirmed.
"That's good." Todd leaned forward, one giant hand pressing you back against the bathroom wall. "Because ever since I turned around and saw you in this sexy lil' costume, I've been wanting to fuck you more than anything."
You kissed him.
He kissed you back, instantly pulling you close. Fake blood smeared against your costume, but you didn't give a damn, because odd was touching you and you wanted him more than anything.
"Are we—" You pulled back and patted at his chest. "—is your bed going to get ruined if we?"
"Fuuuuck, I can't afford new sheets." Todd grabbed about twelve paper towels, got them wet, and started to slap them all over himself. You laughed, a little surprised at the motion, but grabbed a few towels from him and started wiping.
"The blood's a good look, though." You said, rounding to his back and wiping. "What exactly possessed you guys to, uh, choose this as a theme?"
"Well." Todd hummed as you finished his back. He offered you another towel and pulled your hand to his chest, and you flushed as he guided it across his chest.
"It's all about losing inhibitions for a night," he murmured. "about returning to a wild side, a side that wants and indulges. A side that can fuckin' party without gettin' fussy over damn grades and that bullshit."
He blinked at you and tilted his head, wordlessly taking the stained paper towels and tossing them into the trash.
"You wanna lose your inhibitions for a bit, sweetheart? You've been pretty tense this week."
"That is partially because of you." You murmured, but you nodded as he cupped at your cheek. "But… yeah. Entirely yes."
You didn't really pay much attention to where Todd's room was. He was kissing you most of the way there.
The upper hallways of KNA were blessedly empty, which left it to you and Todd to account for the normal stumbling and messy kissing that other frat guys and their hookups did. Both of you were eager to claim that role, with his hands on your back and in your hair as you bumped from wall to wall, breathless and panting, until you were suddenly stumbling into a room and being pushed back onto the bed, where you sprawled, out of breath, and watched Todd wordlessly shut the door without looking at it.
"That was hot." You stated.
Todd chuckled lowly, climbing onto the bed and straddling your hips. You stared up at him, already more than a little dazed, as his hand idly played with the bandana around your neck.
"How you wanna do this, cowgirl? Hm?" He tilted his head. "You want me to touch you?"
"Yeah." A futile attempt to push your hips up had him grinning, one hand slipping underneath your shirt and feeling along your belly while the other slipped the bandana off.
"Lemme take this off, yeah?" Todd only proceeded once your nod reached him, but there was still something unreal about watching his hands unbutton your shirt one by one, until he saw some of your skin exposed and practically ripped the shirt off.
"God damn." He took in a shaky breath, hands touching everything they could reach. "A fuckin' vision. Gonna fuck you so hard, sunshine, you just wait."
You pushed your hips up again. He just smiled down at you, drinking you in as one hand slipped behind your back and unclipped your bra. The second you were fully exposed, you shivered, heat coming to your face as Todd looked at your chest like the hungriest man alive. One hand palmed at a breast while he bent down, his mouth enclosing over your nipple as you whined and arched up into him, feeling his tongue explore the space as he hummed low and deep in his throat.
He retracted a moment later, groaning and palming at your flesh with a big, warm hand. "Pretty girl. Pretty fuckin' girl." He said, husky as could be. "Been dreamin' about this, you're more perfect than my fuckin' wet dreams, y'know that?"
"You've been dreaming—ohh shit Todd—"
His mouth had closed over your other nipple, and as you moaned, you clamped a hand over your mouth that was immediately removed by Todd. You glanced down and could only see one eye peering up at you, intent and focused, as his teeth brushed lightly against your nipple.
Fuck, you were sensitive. You were so, so sensitive and he had barely done anything to you yet.
He pulled back with a breathy groan, squeezing your hand. "Sound so fucking good too, I don't think I can wait any longer." He pulled back, scooting off of you to touch at your pants. "Lemme touch you. Please. Need to taste that pussy, baby."
"God, yeah, shit, I need you, Todd." You helped him with your pants, the two of you struggling and laughing a little as you fumbled over the fake belt buckle and the pants.
"Tacky," Todd remarked as he tossed the belt buckle aside.
"I don't see you being a cowboy."
"In another life, my cowboy ass is unimpressed with you."
"Be fuckin' unimpressed with Spirit Halloween, the hell?" You started to sit up before his hand pushed you back, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Would you put a pin in this and let me fuck you?"
You frowned. "You started it—" Your voice faltered as two fingers pressed against your underwear, and you sucked in a slow breath at the tingle of pleasure that shot through you.
"Fuck, you're soaked already, arent'cha?" Todd grinned at you as he gestured for you to scoot further up his bed, spreading your legs with his hands. "You that ready for me?"
"You've been teasing me all week. One could argue this is long overdue."
"Aww, do we gotta argue?" He squeezed at your thigh with one hand while the other toyed with the waistband of your intimates. "I'd prefer to taste ya, baby."
"Fuckin'—stop teasing me, Todd," you complained, sounding more whiny than you would've liked.
"Say please."
"… please." You mumbled, then yelped as a thumb pressed against your underwear again.
"With feeling, sweetheart." He said firmly, eyes glittering with amusement and arousal.
"Please," you said, much more sincerely. "please stop teasing me."
"Good girl. I've gotcha." Todd slipped your underwear off, groaning at the sight of you. Two fingers spread you open and you squirmed, but his other hand paused you as it pressed down on your abdomen.
"Fuckin' gorgeous." He muttered. "God, do you even understand how good you look?" He pressed a few sloppy kisses to the inside of your thigh before licking at your folds. You moaned, warmth flooding your body as you twitched from the breaths he fanned across your cunt.
"Gonna taste ya." Todd raised his gaze to you. "Try to keep your eyes on me, yeah, baby? I wanna see you."
You nodded. "Yeah, just— please."
Todd's tongue gave a kitty lick to your clit, and you whimpered, sucking in a small breath. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed before he dove into your folds.
He was warm, and wet, and everywhere. His tongue and lips were against your clit and he was moaning into you like he'd found heaven between your legs. You were moaning too, nearly tossing your head back, but your instinct told you to keep watching him, so you watched as he tossed one of your legs over his shoulders and ate you out. As his tongue and lips worked at your clit, your hips jerked and humped into him, electric warmth oozing from every inch of you because of the way he worked at you.
Todd was mumbling into your cunt but you couldn't hear any of it, you could only really register pleasure and you could only focus yourself enough to not toss your head back every time he licked or sucked at you right. You only came back to yourself as his fingers prodded at your entrance, and he gave a quick glance up at you as you desperately nodded your head yes before he pushed a finger into you.
"Holy fuck—" Your head fell back as you clenched around him, hands flying to his head. The combination of Todd's finger and the mouth on you had you moaning, a knot in your stomach tightening quickly as his finger began to work in and out in a languid pace, his finger curling and pressing upward in motions that had your head spinning.
"Mmmfuckfuckfuckyesfuck—" You stammered, forcing your head forward as you gripped at the roots of his hair and met his eyes. "Todd, Todd—fuck I swear—I'm getting close."
Todd was grinning into you and you could swear you heard him laugh a little, but your thoughts gave way into another wave of pleasure as he now pressed a second finger in to join the first one and the stretch made your mind go a little fuzzy. Your walls clenched around him as those fingers pressed up, and his tongue pressed tight little circles into your clit, and suddenly everything was unspooling.
"Todd!" You moaned, thighs clamping around his head as you came. He coaxed you through it with slow, gentle movements and a receding pace of fingers buried inside you, and when your head cleared of pleasure, you returned to find him watching you with a heated gaze, still buried between your legs.
"Fuckin' incredible." He murmured, thick and hoarse as he pulled back from you. His fingers left you and you whined, but then grew warm again as he brought them to his mouth, tasting them slow and deliberate as his eyes stayed fixed on you.
Todd raised an eyebrow. "That feel good?"
"Yeah. Fuck." You were still shaking a little, but you were more heated. You fumbled to sit up, reaching a hand for his pants and hesitating at the sight of his very noticeable bulge.
"God. Can—I want you inside."
"Need more stress relief, baby?"
"I think you need it too." You dragged fingers against the bulge, and Todd let out a low moan that had heat recurling in your stomach. "Don't deny it."
"Would never fuckin' deny you, sunshine, don't you worry." He struggled to get his pants off and you giggled, dazed and pleasured, as you helped him as he had helped you, before you were gazing at Todd fucking Stevens in his boxers and you tried not to explode.
He blinked at you and huffed. "The fuck you looking at me all starry-eyed for?"
"You're so handsome."
"I think I'm the one meant to be issuin' compliments here."
"I can call you an asshole a million times and it means nothing to you." You felt along his chest, his arms, before you reached his jaw, grazing the stubble beneath and around his lips as you met his eyes. "Calling you handsome and beautiful and hot as hell, though—something tells me that means a bit more to you, no matter how cocky your dumbass is."
He stared at you, breathing heavy and deep for a long moment. "Ain't you special." He said, sounding vaguely awed.
"I'm going to kiss you now. And then I want you to fuck me." You said with a small smile.
Todd groaned with a longing that you had never elicited in someone before. "Fuck, I wanna fuck you too."
You kissed him—fierce and hungry, teeth and lips and breath. You wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, you wondered if he could taste your want as vividly as you could taste his. You wondered if you would be able to walk tomorrow.
Then you slid off his boxers and came to the factual realization that you may not.
It had been… a while, of course, since sex and dicks and relating sizes, but he was beautiful. Pretty and well-sized and hard, you found yourself touching him before you realized, and you grinned up at Todd as he let out a slow breath.
"Fuckin' stroke it a little or something, goddamn, take a picture or some shit." Todd hissed, before your hand circled his length and you pumped at him. He groaned, leaning back slightly and thrusting his hips lazily up into your hands, precum beading at his tip and smearing against your hand as you stroked him.
"Feels so fuckin' good, sunshine, you don't even know—" Todd moaned a little and a thrill went through your stomach at being able to pull that noise from him. "You've got the hand of a fuckin' angel, swear to God…"
"Wanna fuck me?"
"I think I would settle for goddamn anything right now long as I could feel you." Todd's eyes pulled open as he gazed at you, before a hand pushed you back and you were regretfully pushed away from feeling him in your hand. He pumped at himself, looking down at you as another low groan rumbled from him.
"Gonna fuck all that tension outta ya." Todd murmured, his tip pressing into your folds and making you twitch slightly as he brushed against your clit. "Yeah, gonna make all your worries go away, gonna feel you around me—"
Todd grunted and rolled his hips into you, pressing himself inside slightly. You gasped, mewling as your back arched. You tried to force yourself to relax, but your legs were feeling weak and your cunt was already feeling so nice that it was hard to focus on anything.
"Deep breaths for me." Todd's hand cupped your face, forcing your eyes to him. "Deep breaths, gorgeous."
You took in a shaky breath and moaned as he pushed in, slowly bottoming out inside of you. Todd's eyes rolled back, and he made some kind of deep, guttural noise.
"Fuuuck, yeah, good girl—you're so fuckin' tight, doin' so good for me." He pulled out a little and pushed back in and you moaned again, pleasure warming every piece of your body. He was perfect. You felt full and warm and like you were floating on cloud nine. As Todd started to move, fucking into you, you let yourself surrender to pleasure as his hands clawed at your hips and he huffed out thick, heavy breaths above you, mixed with hoarse praise.
"You feel so goddamn good—pretty little thing—mmh—god, I needed this, needed you so bad—" He laughed a little at the look on your face as he hit a spot somewhere in you that had stars sparking in your eyes. "That feel good? You got this dumb lil' look on your face, baby, am I fucking you just right?"
You managed a nod and a weak whimper as his hand brushed against your cheek. Trying to speak only elicited words that trailed off, as every inhale and exhale was punctuated with moans and breathless hisses of Todd's name. You felt so, so fucking good, all tight and loose in the same way like your body was some perfect machine being unspooled and taken apart piece by piece by Todd.
Not like you minded.
For a moment all was flesh and pleasure, Todd's dick pressing in and out in a steady rhythm that was right in the middle and made it feel like your brain was dripping out of your ears. As he brushed against that spot again and again, you whimpered, recognizing the tightness in your gut.
"F-fuckk—I'm close again," you gasped. "please, please can I come—"
"Yeah, baby, go on. Come 'round my dick, lemme feel how good I make you feel." Todd's hand gripped your jaw, forcing your gazes to meet, and he grinned all wide and loopy on pleasure.
"Be a good girl and come."
You obeyed moments later, vision whiting out as you clenched down around him. Heat made your body tingle as your back arched and your hands clawed at the sheets, but your face could not move, locked onto Todd's gaze as he watched you like you were sin incarnate. He kept fucking you through the orgasm, but his pace started stuttering soon after.
"God, good girl, that felt so—shit—"
He pulled out of you, dick against your stomach, and you watched with a hazy gaze as his eyes unfocused and he came, cum spurting in three haphazard lines across your tummy.
For a second, both of you just sat there, breathing and basking in the immediate silence that followed sex.
"You alright?" You asked first, voice shaky. Your throat was dry, but you swallowed and blinked at Todd.
He smiled a little, nodding as his hold on your jaw gentled. He stroked a thumb along your cheek and nodded dazedly.
"More than good, sweetheart." He studied you with eyes attempting to clear. "You… you alright?"
"… I think I'm a bit less wound-up now." You said.
Both of you grinned, then you giggled, then Todd was bent over you and your naked bodies were pressing together as you pressed kisses to each other's lips and face and necks, lighthearted pecks and small nips that had the two of you chuckling against the other's skin.
You both laid there for a few minutes, with you half-cradled to Todd's chest as an arm was tossed around your shoulders and you traced mindless shapes against his chest.
"I don't wanna go." You murmured.
"Stay the night, then." Todd flicked at your ear. "You'd be more than welcome, y'know."
You glanced up at him. "And then what happens in the morning?"
He tilted his head. "I bring you breakfast, I drive you to your dorm, then I drive you to work and back."
"Don't you have anything else to do?"
"I'm a free man this weekend, baby." He nuzzled his nose down into your neck, ignoring your squirming. "That means I'm here for you. You're gonna have a good fuckin' weekend for once, yeah?"
"This is a good way to start a good weekend." You mused.
He pressed a kiss to your neck and smiled against your skin. "I know."
Eventually he came back with glasses of water and washcloths, and you wiped each other down, and you joked about his ability to do aftercare (because what frat guy stories ever said the aftercare was good?).
Todd just smiled as he tossed you a spare shirt of his to wear to bed. "There's a lot you don't know about me, ya know."
"Anything interesting I should know?"
"Nah." He tossed the covers on you once you slipped his shirt on, a smile on his face as he got into bed with you. He touched at your chin and tilted his head, a purposeful, slow smile on his face.
"Nothin' you gotta worry about."
You tucked into him, surprised that he was letting you stay this close. Your impression of frat guys overall had not really been the chivalrous and "stay over tonight" kinds of people.
And yet here he was, pressing his face into your head and mumbling something unintelligible about sleep and being cold and how your skin was soft.
This, you decided, was a mystery to solve another day.
You pressed into Todd, sleepy and satisfied, and fell asleep.
uhmm it's been almost two months since the last chapter?? I got writer's block with this story. BAD. and this chapter isn't me getting out of the ditch it's more like i clawed out spat something up and fell back down. WE PRESS ON THOUGH! what better time for a halloween story continuation than on christmas right??
everyone's support means so so SO much to me. Thank you again to Binz and Trixie, and thank you to Kris, you are all awesome and lovely and I appreciate it.
Hope everyone has a lovely holiday time over the next few weeks!
Come talk to me on here or @lostglassguitar on twitter! Much love all <3
Alright so holiday season is rolling around but I thought I'd give everyone a sneak peak of what's to come because I'm HOPING (read--hoping) to get 3 writing things done this month.
UPCOMING:
-Chapter 3 of Midnight on Campus sometime this week or the next
-My entry for the @/lewmagoo Holiday Event (for more details, see here) before christmas
-The Creature/Adam christmasy drabble somewhere around there
I hesitate to call this a schedule but maybe I can just call it an update and some things to look out for from me. I appreciate the love and support on my stuff, thank you for the following and reblogging, and always always thank you if you send asks or leave comments, means the world to me!!
Just read all of the midnight on campus series so far and it’s FIREEEE. Genuinely love your writing style and the plot is amazing. No rush, but I’m hyped for another part, keep up the good work !! <3
Thank you so much!!! This means a lot to me, I'm so glad you've been enjoying it <33 Next chapter is definitely in the works!! Thanks for reading and be sure to stay tuned 🤭
Class was harder to focus on. You weren't sure if it was because you were thinking about murder victims, or because Todd Stevens was sitting next to you, sprawled slightly as his pencil absentmindedly tapped along his leg. Though his eyes were focused mostly on Professor Anderson, there were times his gaze would slip to the side, where your eyes would lock and the corner of his mouth would lift. You couldn't decide if you loved it or hated it. Your body definitely knew, though, because your stomach jumped every time he shifted and his leg brushed against yours.
it's that time of year again! my annual holiday celebration is underway. an event where lew writers, artists, editors, etc can participate! i love seeing what your beautiful brains come up with. learn how you can participate below! 🎄
RULES:
use the tag #a very lewmagoo holiday
must be 18+ to join
you may choose one prompt and/or one song from below and use it as inspiration for your creation! writing, edits, moodboards, etc are all welcome!
there are two lists below. if you would like to only use a song, or only use a prompt, you can. or, if you would like to combine the two (ex: "let it snow/snowed in with rhett") you may do that as well
to participate, send me an ask with your prompt and character choice, and i will add you to the list
limit to one prompt and/or song per person
limit to one character per person
if two people request the same prompt, i will permit it as long as you are writing about different characters
tag or message me when you post your submission so i can read and reblog it!
please have your submissions posted on or before december 31st
note: crossed out prompts mean those slots are filled
CHARACTERS YOU MAY CHOOSE FROM:
bob floyd
rhett abbott
bob reynolds
miles miller
calvin evans
harrison knott
ben mears
rocco gauthier
SONGS:
i'll be home for christmas [listen]
sleigh ride [listen]
that's christmas to me [listen]
mr. winter [listen]
have yourself a merry little christmas [listen]
winter wonderland [listen]
when my heart finds christmas [listen]
the holidays with you [listen]
it's christmastime for everyone (but me) [listen]
let it snow [listen]
all i want for christmas is you [listen]
what are you doing new year's eve? [listen]
PROMPTS:
decorating the christmas tree
fake dating for the holidays
first snowfall of the year
alone on christmas eve
watching christmas movies
baking cookies together
christmas morning
caught under the mistletoe
snowed in during a snow storm
trying to make it home in time for christmas
spending the holidays with found family
you're each other's secret santa
playing in the snow
quiet winter night
warming each other up
proposing on christmas eve
creating new traditions together
snuggled up together in front of the fireplace
candy cane kisses
snowflakes on your eyelashes
best present you've ever gotten
pulling them in by the scarf for a kiss
cooking a holiday dinner together
first christmas together
late night drive to see christmas lights
please reblog this for anyone who might be interested! merry christmas and happy holidays to all, i can't wait to see what you come up with!
tagging only so others see this (absolutely NO pressure to participate if you are tagged! just wanna spread the word): @withahappyrefrain @em1i2a3 @thecowboyfiles @peachystenbrough
pairing: ghostface!todd stevens x f!reader (f-ish)
summary: Life goes on. Todd finds your place of work. Halloween draws closer.
A fog settles over Sumpter College.
AO3 LINK || <PREV CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER>
contains: swearing, normal frat stuff, suggestive mentions, mentions of drugs and alcohol, minor descriptions of dead bodies, and minor violence. If I've forgotten anything, please tell me!
word count: 9K
A/N: Happy late Halloween! SO MUCH LOVE to trixie and binnie for helping me push through and get this done. The love and support on this fic means so much to me, thank you all!! Hope you enjoy!!
(dividers by @/strangergraphics)
"We're gonna get arrested."
"No, we are not."
"My mom's gonna yell at me."
"Why in the world would she be mad at you for stumbling onto a murder scene?"
"I don't knowww!" Hannah wailed, burying her face in her hands. The man who had given her the shock blanket slowly stepped away, looking a little awkward.
You and Hannah sat on the curb of the sidewalk, halfway down the block from the murder scene. The streets were lit up now, ambulances and police cars crowding both sides of the street. Even if you craned your neck, you couldn't see any sign of the crime scene. There was just cops, flashing light, an ambulance. You weren't sure why there was an ambulance. The guy was dead. Super, super dead.
Your eyes drifted to the ground. Blood pooling around the body, eyes blankly staring into nothing at all, ankle twisted at an unnatural angle.
"Alright, kids." There was a police officer standing in front of both of you, face flashing red-blue-red. "We've collected your statements and your numbers. I'm gonna drive the two of you back to your dorm."
Hannah was clinging to her blanket, her knuckles whitening from the force. "You don't think who did this is still out and around, do you?"
"It's Saturday at Sumpter." The officer shrugged unsympathetically. "Your guess is as good as mine."
The car ride was silent. You'd been in the back of a police car once. Second grade field trip, one where the cop came to the school and watched with a pinched face as a bunch of kids squirmed through every inch of the car. It had been cool back then. It wasn't now.
Hannah had stopped crying, though she was still shaking, hugging her arms to her chest as she huddled in a corner of the cop car. You felt weirdly fine, which was probably a sign something was wrong with you, but you just let the drive drift past you. Radio chatter came over the cop's car in staticky bursts, but he didn't seem to be paying much mind to it, so you didn't either. You couldn't make out anything important among the chatter anyways.
"You two get some rest, now." The cop called out the window as you helped Hannah up the steps towards the dorm. "Remember, we're a call away if you need us."
"Thanks, sir." You said over your shoulder. Which was entirely insincere. You hated cops.
The next half hour was a blur. Hannah puked into your dorm's toilet, then into the sink. You helped her wipe her makeup off and watched her stumble shakily into bed before you laid in your own bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
What do you do when you discover a dead guy who was harassing you before he died?
You pressed your face into your pillow and went to sleep.
The next two days illuminated to you that this was going to be a rough week.
Fog had settled over Sumpter, which you weren't aware was a possibility considering the campus location. Students bundled in jackets and murmured in groups. News spread quickly, and a murder was apparently nothing light. On Monday evening, the school finally put out an announcement to soothe worries, though it was more "the police are doing as much as they can, don't feel too worried" than "be safe and stay in groups".
Even though it was bugging you like a relentless itch under your skin, you told yourself you couldn't keep letting it distract you from schoolwork. College crawled on, whether you liked it or not.
When Tuesday finally rolled around, you were wandering to class, already thinking about the work shift that would follow, when a familiar presence settled close to your elbow.
"You haven't answered my texts."
You looked up. Todd was looking down at you, his head tilted, hands shoved in his pockets.
"I didn't see them." I've been a bit busy.
"Yeah, busy evading, uh, murderers, 'n shit?" He scratched at the stubble along his jaw, raising an eyebrow. "You don't buy all that panicking, do you?"
"Todd, I was one of the people who found the body."
His feet stalled slightly as he blinked at you. A myriad of emotions crossed his face, but he seemed to land on something like sympathy. "No shit?"
"No shit." You repeated.
He blew out a breath and murmured your name, touching gently at your arm. "Shit, hey, I'm sorry. That's… damn. Forget what I was saying about you not texting back, I didn't know."
"It's fine." You mumbled.
"No, really." His grip gently tightened on your arm, and the two of you paused in the hallway. Todd spun you slightly, his eyes running over your expression like he was trying to see into your very depths. His thumb rubbed over your arm—back and forth, back and forth.
His hands were so big. Your arm was entirely encompassed and you loved—
"I'm sorry." Todd said again, softer. "I'm sorry you saw that and I'm sorry you've been carrying it with you. I mean, that's…" He shook his head, snorting slightly. "Who was it?" He asked suddenly. "Who died?"
You suck in a slow breath. "Alright, this is going to sound insane, but it was the guy who slammed into me at the party on Sunday."
Todd's eyebrows raised very slowly and very high up his forehead. Tilting his head, his hand stilled, giving a slight squeeze to your arm in what you took as thoughtful reassurance.
"… Trevor."
"Yes."
"And how do you feel about that?"
You shifted uncomfortably, trying to quell the unsure rise of heat in the back of your throat. "I mean… I don't know, Todd, he was an ass, but I don't know if he deserved to die like that, you know? It's weird. I don't like anyone who treats people like he treated me, but—"
"It sounds like there doesn't need to be a but." Todd's voice sharpened. "He called you a whore the other night. Like you were nothing but dirt just because you didn't wanna fuck him. You don't need to have fuckin' sympathy for some asshole who was drunkenly thinking with his dick instead of taking the hint like a normal person."
Todd's gaze was blazing, eyes so dark blue that they looked black in this lighting. He let go of your arm and suddenly, there was a big hand on your face, thumb pressing gently against the space under one of your eyes.
"Promise me you won't feel bad for him just because you think it's the right thing to do. Promise you'll feel what you want to feel." Todd said, firm and low.
You stared up at him for a moment, heart in your throat, world zeroing in on his face, his eyes, the pulsing point of his jaw. You nodded a moment later, feeling something weird and warm jump in your stomach.
"Okay. Yeah." You whispered. "I promise."
He moved away from you as quickly as he had moved in, that familiar smile back on his face. "You should sit with me up in the corner," he drawled. "so we can help each other out during class."
"Or you come sit with me." You protested, ducking into class as he held the door for you. "Y'know, better viewing area from my spot."
"My spot has good heating." Todd shot back, raising an eyebrow.
You gave him a look, then stuck out your hand. "Your spot on Tuesdays, mine on Fridays."
"Ohhhhh, negotiation." He shook your hand with a roll of his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain, sweetheart. You're lucky I like you."
Class was harder to focus on. You weren't sure if it was because you were thinking about murder victims, or because Todd Stevens was sitting next to you, sprawled slightly as his pencil absentmindedly tapped along his leg. Though his eyes were focused mostly on Professor Anderson, there were times his gaze would slip to the side, where your eyes would lock and the corner of his mouth would lift.
You couldn't decide if you loved it or hated it. Your body definitely knew, though, because your stomach jumped every time he shifted and his leg brushed against yours.
When class finally finished, Todd sighed, leaning back in his seat and stretching his arms over his head. "Shiiiittt," he groaned. "talk about some bullshit."
You didn't respond. You were laser-focused on the exposed peek of skin, the trail of light brown hair that went down the middle of his torso and disappeared into his pants.
A murmur of your name. You hit your knee from how hard you stood up. "YEP! Some shit! I mean, man, whoo, I'm going to be thinking about this as I go to work—"
Todd was laughing, and fuck him, it made your stomach give a little jump again. "Were you even listening?" He said, grinning at you as he stood.
You snorted. "Yes. Absolutely." The two of you exited from class and you rifled in your backpack for your complimentary pre-work snack, Todd watching you from the corner of his eye.
"The hell do you work anyways?" He said after a moment.
You took a bite from your bar and shrugged. "I'm a server."
Todd wrinkled his nose. "Saying server makes it sound like you work somewhere fuckin' gourmet."
"Rude. Maybe I do work somewhere gourmet." You shot back.
He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And do you?" Todd responded, tilting his head.
You slumped in defeat. "Fuck off, Stevens."
He grinned. "I'm right."
"Worry about yourself for once instead of me." You continued eating at your bar like a ravenous animal, feet absentmindedly carrying you towards your bus stop. You didn't even really care that Todd was following you around like a lost puppy. Concerning? Maybe. Maybe a sign you had lost some of your willpower regarding resisting Todd Steven's stupid charms.
You'd had a stressful last few days. A stressful life, really. Maybe it wasn't so bad if you wanted to fuck a frat guy—
"How are your delinquents taking it?" You asked before your thoughts could take you any further away from the present. "Y'know. Other frat boys dying and shit."
"'Dying and shit'," Todd echoed bemusedly. "KNA is the best of the best. The boys are basically under the impression that someone's trying to outdo Halloween." He shot you a look. "Which, to be clear, will not be happening. Halloween and the parties are still on."
"Right. Because nothing gets you pumped up for Halloween like an actual murder." You deadpanned.
"Aww, there ya go. You get it." Todd mocked, his grin only spreading wider as you glared at him.
"Asshat."
"We're still on for Friday, right?"
"You're an asshat." You repeated.
"So is that a yes?"
You stared up at Todd Stevens, grinning president of KNA, and rolled your eyes with all the faked annoyance in the world. "Yes. We're on."
John's Island sat nestled between a nail spa and a furniture store, a decrepit yet comforting restaurant where nobody sat on the shitty booth in the corner, there was always at least one fly trying to kill itself in a lamp, and the chefs were always in a constant gripe with one another over who had a better chance to get a girlfriend first.
You loved the job. It paid great. You were also pretty sure it was sucking the life out of you worse than school was. At least today was Thursday, which almost always spelled out a slow and easy shift for you.
"How's school been?" Stacy was another server—recently graduated from another college nearby, she was the closest thing you had to a work friend when she wasn't getting mad at you for not taking shifts.
"It's been fine." You tapped firmly at the screen you stood at, trying to input three waters and a margarita. "Nothing too insane."
Stacy flashed you a look. "You're joking, right?" She leaned in pointedly. "You can't tell me you haven't heard about the murder."
You winced slowly. "Has that shit gotten all around town already?"
"Is that even a question?" Stacy leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms. "People are all up in arms. This is a big deal—Sumpter's always been known for its rowdiness, but a murder…" She shook her head, clicking her tongue. "I mean, that shit's pretty wild, you've gotta admit."
What in the world were you supposed to admit? What could be done by people talking about a damn murder? A guy had died. A guy had been killed. That was it. What were you supposed to say about that?
Your name was spoken. Stacy nudged you with her elbow. "Have you heard anything about any leads?"
"That's what everyone else is tripping over right now." You shrugged, finished inputting your order, and leaned against the wall next to her with a sigh, letting yourself give into the gossip for a moment. "I mean, we don't exactly have incredible security measures because of Greek life being so huge at Sumpter, but… apparently there's barely even a trace of whoever did it."
You decided not to tell her you'd been one of the people to find the body. You weren't keen on people you didn't know that well having that information.
Why does Todd not count in that regard? You wondered before immediately shoving that train of thought down. Outwardly, you shrugged. "I'm not too stressed about it." (A lie)
Stacy chuckled. "You're better than me. Just tell me if there's any juicy details the general public wouldn't know, I guess?"
You rolled your eyes, but it was a little lighter. "Yeah, yeah, I got you."
She grinned. "Great. I've still got a lot of gossip in me to be had."
You weren't sure a murder case counted as gossip, but you also didn't say that. Halloween seemed to have everybody's heads wrapped up in the spookiness of a real-life crime.
The bell to the front of the restaurant jingled, and both of you straightened, Stacy crossing her fingers as she peered around the corner. "Not my section, not my section, not my section—yesss." She turned to you with a grin. "They're yours."
"How many?" You asked as you approached the corner to peek around.
"Uh, three guys, our age, one is really smoking hot—"
You peeked around the corner and froze as you watched Todd, Gettys, and an unfamiliar guy slide into a booth in your section of the restaurant.
"Oh my god." You flattened yourself against the wall, locking eyes with Stacy. "I know them."
Stacy lit up. "You do?!" She immediately, with absolutely zero inconspicuousness, peeked around the corner next to you.
"Well, not one of them, but—the shorter guy and the older one, yeah, I know them."
"'The older one'," Stacy mimicked. "That's the attractive one."
You gave her a look. "Todd is not—"
"That's Todd?!" Stacy gasped and squealed, which made the trio start to turn their heads in your direction, prompting you to dive behind the corner again. Your coworker, not seeming to catch onto your attitude, was gripping your arm like a lifeline.
"Oh. My. God. You're kidding me. The Todd you were talking about last week? That you've been meeting with? The president frat guy?"
You were sighing and pinching the bridge of your nose, nodding along. "Yes, yes, that guy. Who I also described as, like, annoying and kind of full of it."
"And yet you've been hanging out with him." Stacy said.
Okay, she had gotten you there. You exhaled a breath and waved her away. "Whatever. Shoo. I have a job to do."
"I can't believe you got a boyfriend when you've only been here for, like, a month."
"Out."
Your coworker skittered away with a giggle that was very undignified for a woman in her mid-twenties. You sighed, flattened down your clothes (why did you care? Why did you want to look good) and steadied yourself before emerging from behind the corner and approaching the table.
"Good afternoon," you greeted. "welcome into John's Island. Can I get you guys started with any drinks?"
Todd and Gettys' heads whipped up, and they stared at you.
"Holy shit," Todd said. "you meant it that you worked at a server."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Todd."
"I knew it wasn't fuckin' fancy!"
The third guy that you didn't know was glancing between the three of you, a politely confused look on his face. "Sorry, uh… you all… know each other?"
You introduced yourself and stuck out your hand. "I'm at Sumpter like I assuming you also are."
"Oh. Yeah." He shook your hand and smiled. "Tom Backster. Sophomore."
"KNA, KNA, KNA." Gettys chanted quietly, banging a light hand on the table as he shot a grin up at you. "I was thinking of you. How'd the rest of your weekend go?"
"Badly." You deadpanned. You clicked your pen and brought out your notepad pointedly. "Drinks?"
"You got alcohol here?" Tom said, raising his eyebrow up at you as he leaned back in his seat. You squinted skeptically at him, and he grinned, holding up his hands. "Kidding! Kidding. That's campus life anyways."
"Uh-huh." You shot a look at Todd, who had been strangely silent, his eyes quietly running over the scene. He sat closest to you, and you realized you'd been resisting the urge to step closer to him, which was stupid, because that would be proving way too many people right.
"… water," Todd said after a moment. When Gettys opened his mouth, Todd slapped a hand on his shoulder and shook it as he repeated, "Three waters."
"You're a fuckin' killjoy, man." Gettys mumbled as he crossed his arms and pouted.
Your lips twitched, try as you might to resist. Todd clearly noticed, which you also pretended did not please you as you slipped a few steps away. "Three waters. Easy. I'll be back with those. You look over those menus."
Stacy was not-so-discreetly watching as you returned to retrieve the waters. "Soo…" she started. "They're frat guys, right? I wouldn't take you as the kind of person to like someone from a frat. I mean, he is really hot, but, like—"
"Stacy." You fixed her with a very firm look. "We are not dating. We haven't even fucked or anything. We're… friends."
"You said that very tentatively."
"We're friends." You declared, very firmly, as you gripped the three waters and stepped back out.
Ordering went normally enough. Todd got some chicken sandwich. Tom got chicken tenders from the kids menu (okay? Frat guys…). Gettys got a salad, which the other two immediately started making fun of him for.
"What are you, some sort of fuckin' health nut?" Tom said, giggling into the back of his hand like a little girl. "I mean, shit man, live a little, some grease isn't gonna kill ya."
"Gettys has always had this habit. Health. Only related to salads, though." Todd grinned at his friend, tilting his head. "Didn't some boys force you to eat a bunch of grass when you were in third grade?"
"That was years ago, fuck off." Gettys said with a huff. "I fuckin' like salads, man."
"Salad is a good choice." You said placatingly. "Ours isn't too shit. Only… normal amount of shit."
Todd grinned up at you. Surprisingly, he reached up and ran his knuckles along your arm. "You don't gotta placate these dipshits, I've got 'em." He said with a casual, loose grin that made your chest feel weird.
You frowned down at him and flicked at his forehead. "No fighting in the restaurant."
Your motion only made the president smile even wider, which did nothing to help your stomach situation. You promised the trio their food would be quick (considering how dead the restaurant was) and exited the are, which proved to be a true theory, because the chefs got all the food out in ten minutes.
"I'll help." Stacy said in a sing-song tone, grabbing Gettys' salad.
You snorted. "I think you're nosy."
"Two things can be true at once, babe." Stacy said with an unworried shrug, flashing a wink at you.
You were silently dreading whatever would happen when she came with you, but there was nothing you could do to resist her "assistance". As you approached the table, you tilted your head at the intense conversation running between the three, Tom's voice loud and clear.
"Listen, Todd, people are gonna get fuckin' rowdier if this shit keeps happening, and you know that as well as I do. I mean, hell, Mitch is already up and down the walls lately, we don't need more shit on our hands."
"This shit isn't our fault!" Gettys protested, leaning forward. "Somebody killed another frat dude—if anything, they're the ones who have to worry about something."
"We can't be giving up on the experience, Tom." Todd said, folding his hands in front of him. "KNA has reputation to uphold—reputation that we don't keep by backing down when something gets difficult. We don't have anyone to mourn. We're gonna party and we're gonna show that KNA doesn't pussy out when shit gets hard."
You were probably listening to a conversation you weren't supposed to—scratch that, you definitely were, because the second you and Stacy got there, the conversation went dead.
You met Todd's eyes. His jaw was doing that thing, the clench-clench-pulse of frustration and firmness as you set his sandwich down in front of him and passed Tom his chicken tenders.
Gettys cleared his throat and said your name. "Looks good. Thanks."
"I didn't make it, so blame the chefs if it's bad." You said, folding your arms over your chest. "Can I get you guys anything el—"
"So you're Todd?" Stacy interjected, batting her eyelashes down at the senior.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Stacy—"
Todd just laughed and nodded, lounging against the back of the booth. "Yeah, I'm Todd."
"You've been spoken about before." Stacy said, tossing a grin at you as you shifted uncomfortably.
The KNA members' eyes moved between the two of you. Todd's eyebrow ticked up slowly into his hairline. Gettys was diving into his salad with no regard of the ongoing conversation and even less regard to Tom's tossed look of disgust in his direction.
"Oh, have I now?" Todd looked up at you, something deep in his eyes that you couldn't (wouldn't?) read into too deeply. "What have you been sayin' about me, hm?" He asked, his voice a low, warm rumble as his hand brushed against your arm again.
Your heart had jumped well into your throat by now, but you forced a nonchalant expression on. "I've been talking about your parties, of course."
"Of course." He echoed, low and bemused.
"I would hope it was how fuckin' great they are." Gettys popped in, still stuffing his mouth with salad like a very happy rabbit.
"Jesus Christ, do I need to mother you? Finish your bite before you talk." Todd chided, batting Gettys' fork away from the salad as the freshman chewed at his salad.
"Dick." Gettys growled back at him, trying to swipe at his friend. Todd just put a very large hand on his chest and pushed the younger man back, nonchalantly and innocently blinking up at you and Stacy like it wasn't the hottest thing ever that he could pin someone back with one hand.
"I'm held in high esteem, then?" He questioned Stacy. He nodded to you. "This one seems to have high standards."
"Oh, I know, right? She didn't talk to me for, like, a week when she first got hired." Stacy waved a hand. "I can see why you were easier, though. You're pretty handsome."
"Distinguished." Tom offered from his tenders, biting back a laugh.
Stacy nodded enthusiastically. "Distinguished. And hosting distinguished parties, apparently."
"You've got the right idea." Todd grinned a little, then turned his gaze to you. Gettys was still swiping at him, trying to wrench his sunglasses off the top of his head, but there was nothing in Todd's eyes but you. Your stomach whirled at the thought.
"You're coming in a few days, right?" Todd asked you. "To the party."
"Of course I am." You said softly, the words slipping from your mouth before your conscious mind had told them to.
Todd grinned, something sparking deep in his eyes. He released Gettys, who nearly hit Todd's shoulder with his head as he huffed and went back to eating his salad, embarrassed at being caught.
"That's what I like to hear." Todd said, smiling that smile that you had only seen aimed at you. "I'll make it memorable."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Stacy whispered to you as the two of you returned to the back of the restaurant. "You sure there's nothing between you two?"
You didn't even have a good answer for her that time.
"You are absolutely out of your mind."
"What do you mean?"
"You're out of your mind." Hannah was watching you slip on a coat with a horrified look. "We witnessed a murder coming home from a party last week, and you want to go back?"
"We didn't witness a murder, we found a body. And it wasn't at the party." You protested.
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, like that makes it better. This is a shit idea, and you know it. It can't be safe right now, especially tonight."
That point was good enough. Tonight was a foggy, late Saturday evening. The sky had already darkened outside, a product of autumn's grip, which was half the reason you were bundling up a little more than normal. You came prepared today—pepper spray, your phone, and a few small other things were tucked in a body bag underneath your jacket, sure to be secured among all of the Halloween party chaos.
"I won't be gone for long, I've got work tomorrow afternoon anyways." You said to her. "Just wanted to see some friends."
"I can't believe you're sounding more like me than me right now." Hannah sighed dramatically, curling up further into the den of blankets and pillows she had created on her dorm bed. She hadn't taken to last week's incident well, and on top of that, she'd gotten a cold, so she was bedridden this week from a mix of night terrors and illness. Just her luck.
"Just rest." You assured her. "Listen, if you need me I'm only a call away, so you can just… ring me up. Don't suffer alone."
You weren't entirely sure why you were extending her a branch considering she hadn't been the nicest to you. You supposed possible trauma bonds made weird friends of anyone.
Hannah hummed and sniffled, reaching for a Kleenex box. "Have fun." She said after a moment.
"Thank you. I will."
KNA could be seen in the distance as you walked, more as blurry lights within the fog than anything else. You heard it shortly after—there was some weird, trance-like music playing within the house that set a very different mood from what it had been the night before. As you got close enough for the house to come into view, you noted that the decorations had disconcertingly doubled over the week. You had no idea where they were getting them. You weren't sure you wanted to know.
"BOO!"
You yelped and flailed back, instinctively throwing a punch at the person who jumped up at you. It connected solidly with their chest, and the person coughed, yanking off their fake werewolf mask. It was Gettys, who leaned over and dramatically clutched at his chest.
"Ow," he wheezed. "rude."
"You jumped at me!" You protested, gesturing down at him. "Who the hell does that?!"
"I wasn't expecting you to have the fight or flight ability of fuckin' Batman." He responded with a whine. He straightened, and you studied him. He was dressed to be a werewolf, with a purposefully torn buffalo plaid shirt and blue jeans. He had fake hair stuck to the skin exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, and big slippers covering his feet that made them look grotesquely mutated into a werewolf.
"Great costume." You deadpanned. "Is this Halloween for you?"
"Nah, nah, this is the first of many." Gettys fell into step with you as the two of you entered KNA. "But today is a full moon, so I figured I'd unleash the wolf."
"Kinda hard to tell, no?" You said bemusedly. "It's pretty foggy out."
"Werewolf is a state of mind." Gettys passed by some guys that must have been fellow KNA frat members, because one shouted out his last name and he replied with a howl that sent the other three men doubling over in laughter.
You were just about to ask where Todd had gotten off to when a presence loomed at your left shoulder. "There she is."
You turned and stared.
Todd was dressed up as a gladiator. He had a tunic, sandals, body armor, shoulder guards, armbands, and a fake sword to boot.
He looked far too good. His arms were on full display tonight, well-muscled and defined by the armbands. Your gaze swept over him, up and down, up and down.
"Um." Your throat was dry. You collected your thoughts. "Hello, uh…"
"Todd Stevens. The Ruthless." Todd said down to you with one hundred percent sincerity.
Your lips twitched. "Ah. Mr. Ruthless. Of course." You hummed. "You sure you're in the right place, Mr. Ruthless? I don't think we have an arena around here."
"Gladiators need breaks." He murmured, stepping closer to you. "The Ruthless wishes to peruse Rome's greatest party guests."
"Oh." You gestured around. "Well, there's better candidates out there. I wouldn't know."
"You do yourself a disservice." He extended his hand, and, puzzled, you took it, then blinked, a flush crawling over your face as he lifted it to his lips and kissed your knuckles.
Todd Stevens' lips were on you. Todd's lips. Were on your hand.
You stared at him for a moment, heart doing a surprised little dance in your chest as you opened and closed your mouth.
"Would you do me the honor of helping me enjoy this party?" Todd asked you, a glint in his eye that said your reaction was not escaping notice.
You looked at his arms. And his face. And his dumbass smirk.
"Yup." You managed weakly. "Sure."
"Thank god, because I'm having a rough time watching this go down." Gettys commented cheerfully off to the side.
You and Todd shot him a glare. "You're ruining the moment, O'Brien." Todd said.
"Oh my, who's that?" You wrenched your hand away with a dramatic gasp. "You're not the charismatic Todd the Ruthless!"
He shot you a look, something darkly amused. "Oh, you little—"
"Todd." A guy presumably from the KNA frat interjected, patting his bare arm. "Great costume, man, but are we ever gonna get the main events going here? People came for the competition."
You raised an eyebrow at the president. "Competition?"
"Yeah, yeah, round everybody up." Todd clapped the guy on the back. "If Miller's passed out back in a room somewhere, don't wake him up."
The guy grinned and sped back off into the crowd, which prompted you to shift and look between Todd and Gettys skeptically.
"What competition?"
Gettys nudged at Todd. "You gotta do better at informing your VIP of the night's activities."
"I—what? VIP?" The room was feeling a little chaotic tonight. You were losing track of things quickly and it was probably because you had a jacket on and already felt hot.
Todd's hand was on your arm. You didn't remember it getting there. "People are gathering to watch a beer bong competition." He murmured into your ear.
"… should I be worried?" You mumbled back, glancing up at him.
"Of course not." A reassuring squeeze to your arm. "Todd the Ruthless is here, remember?"
The next two hours passed by hazily. The party rose and fell in weird waves of energy, guided by the natural flow of drugs and drinks. Gettys won the beer bong competition, releasing a howl to the room of cheering bystanders as fellow frat members chanted "KNA! KNA! KNA!" and hoisted him up on their shoulders, spinning him around. It turned out tonight was centered all around various stupid competitions. You followed Todd around like a lost duckling and let him guide you around KNA's foolish activities of the night. There were about five different costume competitions going on, with themes ranging from 'scary' to 'awesome' to 'sexy'.
"This seems more like the way I thought Halloween would go when I got old enough." You said to Todd, your arms crossed. The two of you stood in the corner of a room, watching sorority girls prance around in skimpy outfits as other whistled and catcalled them. You wrinkled, the sounds of the men shifting uncomfortably under your skin. "Stupidity and all."
"People are tryin' to have fun." Todd leaned down again, speaking quietly into your ear. He'd been standing close tonight, brushing against you, always watching, watching, watching, like he was curious to see how you reacted to everything around you. "You not likin' it?"
"I'm not sure I need to see people spreading their shit."
"You don't seem like you've been liking any of it." He was looking at you. Really looking at you right now, not anything else, not the women or the men or anybody. Just you. Really intently.
"I just…" You shifted, unsure how to verbalize anything. You weren't sure what was wrong with you, why you couldn't let go tonight even though you'd come here to do that very thing.
"There's something wrong with me, I guess, I dunno." You mumbled finally.
"Don't brush it off." A hand settled on your face, fingers gently cupping at your jaw and turning your head up to him. Todd's voice softened slightly as he looked at you.
"Something's off with you and I want to help." He said, tilting his head. "No reason for you to be fuckin' suffering here if you aren't having fun."
You stared up at him for a moment. His thumb was pressing softly against your cheek and it was nearly all you could focus on aside from his dark blue eyes sweeping you up.
Todd took in your silence for a moment, then sighed, releasing you as his gaze flicked over your surroundings. "C'mon," he mumbled, taking your arm and gently leading you away.
"Wha—" You started to protest, but his grip tightened, and you flashed to Thursday, Gettys squirming uselessly against Todd's large palm. You shut up rather fast.
Todd lead you back through the house and up the stairs, where the weird music and the smell of weed and alcohol only followed a little bit. The upper halls of the chapter house were always quieter, less people to brush against you and press at your brain.
Todd stopped you somewhere quiet, a hallway where there didn't seem to be any occupied rooms. He leaned back against the wall, fixing you with a firm look.
"Spill it." He said firmly. "Something's been poking at you all week. Is it the dead guy?"
"No." You said honestly. When Todd gave you a look, you pressed your lips together and firmly repeated "No. It's not."
He looked a hint surprised, tilting his head. You felt a need to fill the space, so you shoved your hands in your jacket pockets and shrugged.
"Like—shit, okay, I've been thinking about it, Todd, but it doesn't fuckin' bug me. Maybe it bugs me than it doesn't bug me, but, I dunno, it wasn't—" You scrubbed at your face with a hand and leaned your head back against the wall. "He won't be missed by me. What you said earlier this week stuck with me. About him… kind of deserving it."
"That's right." Todd sounded… proud, in a way that settled low in your belly. "He did deserve it."
The words slid over you like warm water. You closed your eyes, recalled Trevor's body, then recalled what he'd said to you hours before. He had kind of deserved it, you realized.
"That doesn't make you terrible." Todd said lowly, his voice quiet in the hallway. "Makes you human, you know that? It's braver to admit the truth to yourself."
You nodded. Something in your chest was a little lighter.
"That's not all." You opened your eyes to see Todd looking at you, face half-shadowed in the hallway. "You've still got that wrinkle in your forehead."
"You're paying attention to my forehead?"
"You're deflecting."
"Fine. Fine." You rubbed a hand over your face again and shifted your gaze to the floor. Your face felt hot from how embarrassing it was to admit the next part, but pinned under Todd's gaze, it felt like the only thing you could do was answer him, the words dragged from your mouth by his presence.
"I'm, like, annoyingly attracted to you, but I wanna know you more and I'm upset because I don't know how to ask about that." You blurted.
Silence for a moment. Downstairs, there was a chorus of cheers about something, but Todd's eyes never left your face, his arms crossed over his chest.
"You're attracted to me?" He asked finally.
You groaned, feeling so queasy you could hardly think. "Todd—"
"No, no, let me finish." He held up a hand, crossing the hallway a few steps closer to you. "Don't get wrapped up in that smart head of yours like you normally do. We're talkin' like adults. You're bein' good and telling me what was wrong like I wanted."
His lips twitched slightly. "Though I wouldn't say this is a wrong thing."
He stepped closer to you until there was only about a foot of space between the two of you. You looked up at him, feeling your heart in your throat.
"Let me repeat: you're attracted to me?" He asked, voice quiet and low.
You nodded.
"And you want me, but you want to know more about me first."
You nodded again.
Todd smiled a little, humming as he rocked back on his heels. Despite the fact he was dressed as a gladiator, you were still taking this conversation so seriously it was still making you feel ill.
"Well, I'll tell you a few things." Todd leaned down slightly, getting right in your face. "First—I feel the exact same way about you."
"You do—?"
"And—" Todd continued, his breath fanning over his face. "I like you… a shit ton. More than I've felt for anyone in a damn long while. So, I've got an idea. We can play a little game."
You raised an eyebrow, slightly taken off guard. He'd just basically said he was attracted to you and suddenly he was saying he wanted to play a game? What was he, Saw? What the hell—
"Stop thinking. There you go again." Todd tapped your forehead, and you blinked. "Eyes on me." Todd ordered. "Considering you get so caught up in your head, I've got something to keep you occupied while we talk."
He pointed to you. "Every time you manage to get out a question, I'll answer it honestly and give you a reward."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "What kind of reward? Do you have candy in your pockets or something?"
"Jesus Christ, you thought of candy first, come here, you irresistible little—" Todd huffed—which sounded a lot lighter and dreamier than aggravated—then suddenly reached forward, cupped your face, and brought you into a kiss.
Every conceivable thought left your head in an instant. The world was wiped clean, a slate of nothing but fuzzy feeling and Todd's lips pressing to your own. You took in a shuddering breath and kissed him back instinctively, pressing into him instinctively. Your body craved him without conscious knowledge—searching, searching, searching as you molded to him and let him steal your heart and your breath and—
Todd pulled back. You huffed, something whiny sounded, and he chuckled, though it was low and breathless and you felt a little thrill of glee at the realization you were affecting him, too.
"Okay—okay, okay. Questions." Todd sucked in a breath like he had to remind himself why he was there. "Ask me something."
You wanted to ask him something stupid he could answer just so he would kiss you again, but you steadied yourself, blinking. He was so close to you, and he unexpectedly smelled good—some kind of cologne, cedarwood and light musk, melded against his skin in a natural way. You wanted to press your face into his neck and live in him forever.
"What are you studying?" You asked before desire made you lose your mine again. "Like—your degree."
Todd hummed. "Business. KNA, this shit gets you into high places. Worked for four years, and now I'm not only prez of KNA, but workin' to… I don't know, do something bigger. Be fuckin' rich."
"Hmm. Valiant." You quipped, smiling.
"Shut up." He murmured, leaning down as his eyes fluttered closed again. This kiss was slower—Todd explored your lips, touch-and-go, one of his big, warm hands cupping at your cheek as he held you in place. You moaned softly into his mouth, and he hummed long and low, before pulling back, nudging his nose against your own.
"Fuck. Fuck." He murmured. "Fuck, you're so—" His eyes darted to your lips again, and he took in a shaky breath, nodding a little. "Question."
You were frazzled. You blinked at him, swallowing, and he smiled a little.
"Focus, sweetheart." He said quietly, thumb wiping spit from the corner of your mouth.
"Where did you grow up?" You asked finally, taking in a shaky breath.
"Buckhead." Todd said quietly. "Gettys and I, y'know, grew up together. Difference in age, but we were always thick as thieves. Grew up with some other guys who go here, too." He paused, gnawing on his lip, his eyes running over your face. "I wanna ask you a question."
"Go right ahead." You murmured.
"Why'd you leave your last college?"
You paused, eyes flicking downward. Digging into old wounds felt weird, dark blood beneath your fingertips kind of weird, but here in this hallway, there was just Todd, who was kissing you and holding you like you were everything he wanted and needed.
"I, uh—" You took in a breath. "—there was this teacher, back at my last college. Mid-thirties guy, but he'd had this kid as a teen that came into college just like the rest of us. This girl joined one of the sororities that were up there." You hesitated. "I was a rowdy person freshman year. Became a weird friend of hers, even though I wasn't in Greek life."
You shifted and let out a sigh, nudging into Todd's touch on your face. "End of freshman year, we get into a big fight about something, I don't even remember what. Next semester, I came back and end up with her dad as my teacher. He figures out who I am real quick. Next thing I know, him and his daughter are tellin' me that I need to help tutor her in this other class, because she was failing and I wasn't."
The hallway. The hallway. You had to focus on the hallway, or the stupid fake armor Todd was wearing, or you would cry, and that would suck.
"They… they, um, said if I didn't, he'd report me and say I tried to come onto him for a better grade. Which was total bullshit, of course." You took in a big breath that sounded a little sniffly, then shrugged a bit. "I… got through that first semester and fuckin' dipped. Took a whole year to figure out where to run to next. I just… I couldn't go back there, and nobody would believe me if I told 'em."
Todd was silent for a moment as you cleared your throat and shrugged. "So. Um. That's why I'm here."
A hand nudged your chin up. You reluctantly pulled your shaky gaze away from somewhere around his shoulder to meet Todd's eyes.
He looked furious. Not at you, but for your sake. You swallowed down the past humiliation in your throat as you focused in on him.
"I believe you." Todd said. Quiet. Fierce. Protective and angry in a way nobody had been for you in a long, long time.
"… thanks." You said quietly. "But… it was a while ago, now. And I'm here."
You pulled him into the kiss this time—threaded your hands through his hair and pulled him down, mouth-on-mouth. He made a noise, something fiercer. This kiss was teeth and lips and tongue. Todd pressed you against the wall, crowding closer into your space. Both of his hands cupped your face, enveloping you whole. You were breathing each other, melding together. Your head was spinning, spinning, spinning, and you loved it. You needed it, wanted him, wanted to be consumed and held and listened to forever.
You weren't sure when things broke up. For a while there was nothing but the two of you. Want, desire. Tenderness and roughness rose and fell in waves. He was touching you, but never too much—hands on your waist, your hips, your arms, your face. A hand slid up and down your back, tilted your head as he mouthed at your lips and your neck, but it never went further, and wordlessly, the two of you never needed it to. Tonight was a reassurance and a beginning. It was slow, and you both wanted it that way.
At some point, Todd hummed, pulling back from your lips. He nosed into your neck, pressing little kisses against the junction of neck and shoulder, and you shivered.
"You have work in the morning." This was muttered, his voice a husk against you. "You should go home."
"You're ejecting me." You murmured. "You're rude."
"I'm protecting you. There is a difference." Todd pecked your lips and pulled away. "C'mon. You know I'm right."
"I hate that you are." You said with a groan. Todd was smilin,g, which, boo, what an asshole, and boo that you liked him.
"I know, sweetheart. You're welcome."
The two of you went slower than you should have—wrapped up in conversation, talking about the week. You both griped about your shared teacher, who pissed both of you off more and more every day. When the two of you finally reached outside, you stood there in KNA's doorway for a moment, staring outside.
"Foggy night," Todd muttered, then glanced at you. "You sure you'll be alright?"
"I'll be fine." You assured him.
"I knew you would say that. Still, no fuckin' way is this safe weather, I mean, damn." He put his hands on his hips as he surveyed outside. "Just… watch for drunk drivers or some shit."
"You worry too much."
"I worry very little." Todd responded, humming.
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Okay. Whatever. Come here, you."
You hooked your fingers into the front of his costume and kissed him again. Todd grinned into this kiss, eyes briefly closing as he kissed you back.
After a moment, you pulled back, grinning ear-from-ear. "Goodnight, Todd the Ruthless."
"Tease." He murmured, wrinkling his nose at you.
You gave him a wave as you descended the steps, and he slowly waved back, before disappearing back into the house.
You were floating on the way back, your steps ten times lighter as you walked among the fog. The walk back to the dorms was fairly well-lit, though the fog had thickened with the chill of the night, and it was only you. In any other situation, you would've been intimidated, but right now you were on cloud nine.
You hummed to yourself, spinning your keyring on your finger and kicking through some of the fallen leaves on the sidewalk. Despite the chill pressing into your bones, you were warm inside, the memory of Todd's touch everything that mattered to you.
In the distance, the dorms slowly came into view. Shadows and fog draped over the scenery as you walked along the sidewalk, still humming a slight tune to yourself.
Your pace faltered as you came to something at your feet. There was a jacket, something pink and puffy, on the ground in front of you, halfway off the sidewalk.
Your lips twisted, suspicion tugging at your chest. You crouched down, studying the jacket. There was a tear in the shoulder, something long and thin and stained with red.
The air suddenly felt much, much color. Your heart sank into your stomach as you straightened.
From the corner of your eye, movement suddenly caught your vision. In the not-so-far distance, in the direction you were meant to be heading, there was a figure.
The figure was tall, draped in some kind of black cloak that covered any features, including a hood for the head. Their head was down, but they were dragging a shape along the ground.
They were dragging a body.
Your chest clenched, your eyes widening sharply. "Holy shit. Holy shit."
For a moment, you couldn't move, standing there like a paralyzed moron as the figure dragged a body through the the deathly still silence of a campus past midnight. Nausea rolled slowly into your chest, and before you knew what you were doing, you stepped forward, raising your voice. "HEY! HEY!"
The head whipped up. You stared into the utterly black eyes of a mask, the shape something ghost-like and wide-mouthed.
You stared back for a moment. Your mouth was the driest it had ever been before, but you still raised your voice, yelling across the yard. "What the fuck are you doing?! Put them down, you fucker!"
Their masked head tilted—slow, slow, slow. Quietly, smoothly, the figure straightened, unceremoniously dropping their hold on the body as it promptly fell to the ground.
Then, the masked figure started walking towards you, walking in a straight line across the grass in your direction.
Your blood went cold. "Oh, fuck." You took a step back.
The figure started to run.
Instantly, every single sense of yours came alive as instinct known as none other than adrenaline flooded through your body. You spun around and sprinted, leaping over a bench in your path with athletic ability you didn't know you had. Your eyes scanned over the area in front of you—searching, searching, searching—until you found somewhere to run, another entrance to a different dorm building.
You just needed people. You just needed fucking people—
There was a noise behind you as you ran, and you glanced over your shoulder. The masked person was gaining ground—they were taller than you, you realized, and definitely faster—and you swore breathlessly, willing your feet to move faster as you locked your eyes on the door.
You were just across the yard, reaching out for the door as you prayed it wasn't locked—
Something gripped onto your jacket and yanked you back.
You shrieked, instinctively writhing as you balled your hand in a fist and swung blindly behind you. You connected with something solid—maybe arm, maybe torso—but that didn't deter them as they grabbed you.
"Easy," a voice was saying roughly behind you, something male and muffled. "Easy, easy—"
"Fuckin'—let go!" You screamed, flailing with all your might. A hand was wrapping around one of your arms, but you writhes, slamming your back into the masked man behind you. There was a small grunt, but the hand stayed locked on you. You squirmed, pulling to the side as your free arm slipped off a jacket sleeve.
"Asshole motherfucking stupid—" You swung your now-freed arm around, praying to hit something, anything of use. Your fist slammed against something, and there was a much louder grunt that sounded a little more pained as the hand on your arm loosened.
In an instant, you twisted away, tripping over your own feet. Your jacket and body bag came off, but you didn't care, feet scraping against the concrete as you staggered to your feet and grabbed the door, swinging it open.
"Hey—" You heard the masked figure hiss behind you, but you didn't turn around, just slammed the door shut and threw yourself through the building.
As you sprinted up the stairs, you distantly heard the door opening and closing. There was nothing but silence and slightly buzzing lights around you, so you put every human effort you could into not eating shit on the stairs as you went up, up, up, until you were somewhere around the fifth floor and you threw the door open and staggered into the hallway, banging on the first dorm you reached.
"Hello? Hello?! Wake up! Hello, someone, wake the fuck up!" You banged on several different doors, trying to make as much of a racket as possible. "Someone, hello, please—!"
Door number eight opened after a few seconds, two frazzled-looking girls peering out with what the fuck looks on their faces, but that fell away in the glory of womanhood as they took in your expression.
"What's going on?" One girl asked, blinking at you.
"Please let me in." You glanced down the hallway. No sign of him in the stairwell doorway, but you needed to—"Please, please, I'll explain inside, we need to get out of the hallway."
"Shit, okay, yes, come in." One girl, dark-skinned and sharp-eyed, put a hand on your back and practically shoved you into their room. You took steps in, murmuring breathless thank-yous as the latter girl closed and locked the door behind you.
The first girl turned on a lamp in their room. It took a moment, but you slowly sank to the ground, shaking like a leaf.
"Call the police." You said.
Second girl looked alarmed. "What?"
"Call. The. Police." You repeated slowly.
"What the fuck is going on?" The first girl demanded, crouching down to look you in the eyes.
You looked up at her, aware fully of how haunted you looked. "The person who killed that guy last week just chased me." You said quietly, your voice carrying through the room in the deadly, late silence.
Yall I have been so so so sick the last few days so I haven't been able to work on the next chapter of midnight on campus, but I'm hoping to get it out by Halloween. Thanks for the patience :)
