“I fucking ruined it.”
Byron looks up at me again, alarmed. “Oh, no, it’s fine, Griffin. I was kidding. Really, it’s—”
It’s not fine. None of this is fine.
Calm the hell down! It’s just a tiny tear!
It’s not fine at all, West. Byron is being too kind to say otherwise, but look at his face. He’s hurt.
He’s not hurt. He just wants to keep going.
He made that costume. He put his heart into it, and I ripped it off of him chasing my own lust. I disregarded him, like a piece of meat. This isn’t me.
We’re all pieces of meat when we’re horny. It isn’t supposed to be sweet. He wanted it just as badly, bro.
But I wanted it to be sweet. I’m not like you.
“Griffin? Are you alright?”
I snap out of it. Sweat drips down my forehead. I can’t seem to catch my breath. “I—I’m so sorry, Byron. I should’ve …” I back away. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. “Just pretend this never happened.”
“Griffin, is something going on? We can talk.” His eyes fill with worry. “Did I do something wrong?”
Did he do something wrong? Suddenly I can’t take it anymore. “Sorry about all of this. I …” I pull open the door and charge back inside, even when Byron calls out my name again. I feel sorry for the people I steamroll on my way out of the house. I’m out in the blink of a bat’s blind eye—only to find myself on a street full of more bucket-carrying, candy-seeking monsters.
I’m the monster who already had more than his fill.
9
Candy Corn Sucks
Bro, you’re overreacting.
No matter how fast I run, I can’t outrun my fears. I can’t outrun that last look in his eye, like he didn’t even know me. Or he was disgusted by me. Or he—
He wasn’t disgusted. He even said it was all okay! Griff, you gotta go back! Tonight’s our night!
Tonight was supposed to be my night, but I let you take control. I let you push me too far.
That wasn’t too far. Griff …
It feels like mere seconds before I’m home again. I slam shut the door of the apartment behind me, out of breath, freaked out, and slam my back against the door. The events of tonight play over and over in my head.
I ruined it. I ruined things with Byron.
Buddy, you didn’t ruin things. C’mon. You’re—
“You’re right,” I growl. “It wasn’t me. It was you. You fucking did this, West.”
Wait, what? No! I’m the one who got you out of this apartment!
“Actually, no. That was me who got you out of this place.” My eyes fall on the candle, which I left burning in the center of the living room where we had our little not-a-séance. “And I can put you right back in it.”
Please, just wait a sec. We can talk this out, Griff.
I can’t stand listening to him anymore, if I can even call it “listening”. I stomp right up to the candle, grab it off the floor, then blow it out with a vengeance.
The smoke dances—swirling, smoky worms of regret, coiling and recoiling before my eyes, fading.
It was irresponsible to leave a candle burning in my apartment while I was gone, anyway. Stupid, really.
I close my eyes and try not to cry.
Bro, I’m so sorry.
My eyes snap open. I see nothing but the apartment and the smoke from the candle. I spin around. “What in the hell? It didn’t work?”
No. I guess I’m still part of you. I’m still—
“Fuck! Ugh, this is a nightmare.” I ditch the useless candle and go straight to the bathroom. I cannot get my clothes off fast enough. “Stupid costume. Stupid ritual. Stupid Halloween and all its fucking ghost tricks.”
I feel West’s thoughts. He’s still trying to talk to me and apologize and blah, blah, blah. Somehow, I manage to tune out whatever part of me is still him.
Really, it’s impressive. It must take some seriously twisted level of self-hate to block out a voice like his.
A voice I might be stuck with forever.
I turn on music and crank it up so loud, the walls might split in half. Then I’m standing in the shower, hot water pouring over my head, its loud hiss drowning everything out. Black pomade runs down my body, drawing long oily fingers down my neck and chest and falling to the tiled floor.
Bro …
I clench my eyes shut tighter.
Byron was right there. Byron in his sexy costume he made himself, he was alone with me on a balcony, all alone, and that moment we had could’ve been the start of something beautiful.
I’m sorry. I ruin everything I touch. I told you we shouldn’t have stood so close to the balcony. Maybe my own anxiety mixed in with whatever you were feeling, and I just got carried away, and—
“Shut up.”