I almost felt like I left the Spirit's Eve Festival too early, even though it was well past midnight. When I'd left, there was still bustling conversation, and the air was still crisp and full of the same spooky atmosphere it'd had when the sun set.

I returned home empty-handed this year; Sam had the golden pumpkin, despite the fact that he was joined by Sebastian and myself in finding it.

He ended up dropping it multiple times. After we'd found it, he had one too many pale ales to the point where Sebastian and I damn near had to catch him before he dropped himself at least once.

My heart broke at the thought of the hangover the poor guy was in for. Of course, there also came the obligatory cuddling-with-them-to-help-him-feel-better daydreams.

All I knew was that I was standing outside on my farm at midnight for no good reason, so I went to go inside.

But that's when I heard what I knew to be Laslow's meow. I wasn't sure whether or not to panic, for the meow was definitely laced with urgency... but he didn't seem to be in pain or anything. There was no strain in it.

The meows were also getting closer.

And soon enough, there Laslow was, emerging from behind the shipping box, with whatever the fuck he was carrying in his mouth.

...Curtains? Some kind of cape?

Gym shorts?

With one final meow, Laslow set the shorts by my feet.

They were someone's gym shorts, holy shit. They were a reflective silver, accented with a red waistband and a red stripe down each leg.

A mix of disgusted and panicked, I asked "Where did you get these?"

To which Laslow just looked up at me. Thanks, friend.

I started to rack my brain, figuring that if I knew who these belonged to, the rest of the answers would come right along with that.

I also feared that, you know, something had happened to the owner of these shorts. That panic wasn't exactly helping me think.

Sam only ever wore pants unless it was too unbearably hot.

Sebastian wore pants even when it was unbearably hot.

I'd never seen Willy in anything that didn't cover his whole legs, and that wasn't clearly specifically sewn together for fishing.

Alex...

Alex had been wearing these shorts when I'd gotten to the festival.

"Laslow!" I commanded without thinking. "Take me to where you found these!"

He just sat there and kept looking at me. Welp, so much for this being some fairy tale.

Though anything would have been better than a murder mystery.

I knew it was going to be awkward as hell, and it was gonna suck balls, but I had to do it: because Laslow had brought Alex's shorts to me, I now had to knock on his door and ask him if these random gym shorts belonged to him. If only I'd known he was okay, I could have put it off to tomorrow, but... alas.

But I didn't set off toward town without exclaiming a solid "DAMNIT."

And so, trying to work up the resolve I needed, I stormed off toward town. What was I going to say? How was I going to approach this? What white lie could I hide behind to make this less awkward? Wait, what if I didn't even have to say anything? What if I just left the shorts by the door, rang the doorbell, then hid behind something? Like the world's most awkward game of Ding Dong Ditch or-

"Hey, wait!"

I yelped in surprise, having already been on edge. I then heard footsteps coming from over by the bus stop.

There the man of the hour was. Alex came running up to me from across the street.

I held his shorts out toward him, grateful this could be over with quickly, but... I'd been expecting him to stop for some ungodly reason.

He got up to me... I blinked... and he had the shorts in his hand and was running back toward town.

"Thanks, see ya!" he called, not even looking back at me.

And he and the shorts were gone.

It was 1am now. At least, I figured it had to be based off the fatigue that suddenly caught up to me. I did have enough energy to have a decent laughing fit as I walked home, though.

I also had some final thoughts before I went to sleep.

Should I tell Sam? What would his reaction be?

And did Alex do what I thought he did to lose his shorts? And if that was true and it was on a square inch of my grandfather's sacred farm, I swore to Yoba...

Author's note: I've taken to writing these out in a notebook at work, to make my shifts easier. Hopefully, this means I'll be getting a lot more of it done now.