Friday, October 31st

"Do you not understand the meaning of the term grounded?" Mail asked Linda in astonishment.

"Not if it means that they let you spend all of your time at my house," Linda snapped back. "Are your parents really stupid enough to think that you're not using my computer and cell phone to cheat the fact that they took your away?"

"My mom probably figured it out," Mail considered this. "But I don't think my dad even knowns I'm over here."

Linda didn't push this subject, and Mail was grateful that he had told her some extend of his family issues.

"However," Mail continued. "Just because my mother lets me cheat on my grounding by getting a few hours of computer time, doesn't mean that she'd let me go to a Halloween party."

"Come on," Linda complained. "You know I'm too shy to go by myself!"

"I'm sorry, but did you just call yourself shy?" Mail gapped at her, but she ignored him.

"Tell her that I need someone to go trick-or-treating with me," she suggested.

"You realize you're only one year younger than me, right?"

"Tell her the truth then," Linda was exasperated. "I'm too scared to go to a party by myself and it's not fair that I should have to suffer because you don't know how to hide the fact that you're playing a video game in class!"

"Like she'd fall for that," Mail huffed.

One hour later Linda was dragging Mail into a crowded mall as she tried to find him a last minute costume.

"I still can't believe my mom fell for that," Mail mumbled to himself.

"You can marvel at my magical powers of persuasion later," Lind said pointedly. "Now focus on find a costume that fits you."

"Can't I just be a zombie or something?" he asked.

"I'm not putting zombie make up on your face, that takes ages," she dismissed his idea.

"Fine," he shuffled through the rack of clothes in front of him. "I'll be a vampire, all I need is teeth and a cape."

"Get a wig too," she instructed. "Vampires don't have bright red hair."

"Yes they do," Mail argued. "My hair is blood red, it's perfect!"

"It's cliché," she informed him.

"I think it's hot," he muttered. "But I'll get a wig if it bothers you that much. And pale make up, that way no one will recognize me."

"Why don't you want anyone to recognize you?"

"I don't like a lot of the people at my school, and it's possible that they might show up," Mail shrugged.

"Then be something with a mask," she suggested.

"I'll be a vampire with a superhero mask," Mail decided.

"You're joking," she rolled her eyes.

"At first yes, but I'm liking the idea."

"Mail," Linda groaned.

"Nope, you can't change my mind, I'm sticking with this," he crossed his arms for emphasis. "What are you going to be?"

"A zombie."

"I thought you didn't have time for zombie make up?"

"I don't for you, but I do for me," she told him with a slight smirk.

Mail rolled his eyes.

—

Happy Halloween!

I'll be happy if I don't get roped into wandering my neighborhood with my brother and collecting candy he's not going to eat.

Mail chucked at Mello's pessimist reply.

At least you can get the candy.

No, he'll make sure that I can't get my hands on any of the good stuff. Do you have plans?

Against my will and grounding.

Mail figured that this was vague enough, although he didn't mind explaining that Linda was forcing him to go to a party. He hadn't thought of a code name to refer to Linda as yet, but she was the only friend that he had mentioned to Mello. Which Mail knew made him sound like a complete loner, but that wasn't exactly far from the truth. He doubted that Mello could judge him, since he spent most of his lunch at whatever school he attended messaging him.

Have fun.

Mail couldn't tell is this was Mello's version of sarcasm or optimism.

We'll see.

—

When Linda had originally told Mail that she needed him to come to a Halloween party with her, he had assumed it was at the house of someone she knew from school. It was only when they arrived at the night club that this theory was disproven. His shock must have shown on his face, because she quickly explained to him that she wasn't trying to crash a rave.

"They throw teen only parties on special occasions," she told him. "We're not going to get in trouble, there shouldn't even be any alcohol."

"I doubt that," Mail voiced.

"Yeah," she thought this over. "I'd stay away from the punch if I were you. But, aside from that, everything should be fine."

"Why did I agree to this?" Mail groaned.

"Come on," she urged him. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Hiding."

Despite his complaints, he followed her into the club. The room was dark, only lit by a cool blue light. Tables that he guessed normally took up half of the space had been pushed to the wall farthest from them. Aside from the empty bar and a long table with food and punch, the entire room was a dance floor populated by overexcited high schoolers. It took seconds for Linda to be invited to join this crowd, and Mail was too relieved to be offended that no one had bothered to ask him to dance either.

"Go ahead, I'm fine over here," Mail told her when she didn't reply to the boy who had asked her if she wanted to dance with him.

"You sure?" Linda asked, her face full of guilt for dragging him to the party and then abandoning him.

"Yeah," Mail said as if he didn't care. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

"Okay."

With that Mail was alone at the party he had not wanted to attend in the first place. Trying to shrug of his overwhelming need to go home, Mail sat down at the bar. No one was bartending, and all of the alcohol had been taken away, but it was still an alright spot to try to blend into the furniture. In fact, Mail would have been confident that no one in the party was able to notice him if it wasn't for what happened a few seconds later.

The moment that Mail was confident that he was invisible to the rest of the teenagers around him, a boy wearing a dark blue masquerade mask with dark eyeliner (and eye shadow), and long blonde hair with dark blue streaks (that Mail was fairly sure was a wig) sat down two seats away from him. Mail knew that this would sound rude if he said it out loud, but the only reason that he could tell that the person sitting not too far from him was a not a girl was the fact that the only thing that he was wearing on his upper body was an unzipped leather jacket. The boy sat with his legs draped around his chair, left arm leaning against the bar, and faced Mail, giving him perfect view of said upper body.

"Hey," Mail wasn't sure if it was the party's atmosphere, or the fact that the room was too dark and he knew that no one would recognize him through the black mask Linda had let him buy, that motivated him the talk to the blonde boy in the leather.

"Hey yourself," the boy replied in a welcoming tone. "Didn't feel like dancing?"

"Dancing's not really my thing," Mail confessed. "You?"

"Don't feel like dancing with anyone over there," the blonde gestured to the dance floor populated in underdressed teenagers. "I'm not that desperate."

"If you're complaining about their clothing, I'm pretty sure you're just as guilty," Mail told him blandly.

"My friend forced me to wear this," he told Mail with a smirk. "But I guess it's my fault for owning it in the first place."

"I'm not complaining." The words left Mail's mouth before he could stop them.

"Oh really?" If the blonde's face wasn't covered, Mail was sure that he would be raising an eye brow. "In that case, do you want to dance?"

"I told you dancing's not really my thing," Mail reminded him.

"I thought you might want to make an exception," the boy responded.

Mail took a few seconds to consider this. Why not dance with this guy? After all, hot strangers rarely even talked to Mail, much less flirted with him. It wasn't like Linda was around at he moment to miss him or to makes jokes about him cheating on his "online boyfriend." Although he was sure that she would encourage him to dance with the stranger in leather, considering she had been chiding him on his sense of adventure before they entered the party.

"Alright," Mail stood up from his chair. "I'll let you lead."

The boy hopped out of his seat and grabbed Mail by the hand, tugging him through the crowd of people and to an empty place on the dance floor. Fortunately the spot was out of the way and relatively in the shadows. Mail wasn't sure that he was bold enough to dance with another guy in front of the rest of the party, even if neither of their faces could be seen. It wasn't that Mail was embarrassed, he just didn't like the idea of the other high schoolers watching him.

Mail let the boy's arms snake around his waist, as he placed his around the boy's shoulders. The veil of darkness and lack of acquaintance with his dance partner prevented Mail from turning into the awkward mess he was sure he would be under any other circumstance. The two of them swayed in the dimly lit room, trying to match the music's slow rhythm with their bodies. Swaying turned to small steps, and Mail was surprised that so little movement could be so captivating.

The ambiance wasn't romantic. No that would be the wrong word. If it wasn't for a invisible shell that the two of them had somehow created around them, Mail would have been back to feeling uncomfortable in the loud room full of people he disliked. Yet, being in the arms of the extremely attractive stranger didn't necessarily make the moment romantic. How could it if Mail and the boy in leather hadn't even exchanged names? No, dancing with the blonde wasn't romantic. It was sultry.

The fact that dancing with a muscularly toned and masked boy (who was only drawn to Mail out of a whole room of better looking people) felt like a scenario straight out of his fantasied, only helped set the mood even more. The blonde pulled Mail closer, so Mail put his head on his shoulder, inhaling the scent of the cheep leather jacket. When the song ended he didn't want to let go, but he did allow himself to pull back a little.

"That was nice," he blurted before he could think of something smoother to say.

"Yeah," the boy's voice sounded more like he was breathing than speaking.

That when when Mail leaned into the boy that he met less than five minutes ago, pressing their lips together. The soft fabric of his mask brushed against the cardboard and navy blue glitter of the boy's. The full realization of what he was doing only hit when the boy grabbed hold of his shirt collar and returned the kiss.

Mail reminded himself why his sense of adventure usually remained hidden.

I know, I know, I missed Halloween by four days. Just pretend it's still October.

Thank you to Corliss Kat, Lunacat247, brightnight003, Carotta, and Anonsass for reviewing!