Present day

See, I really like Halloween costume parties. I think they're fun and you can really tell a lot about a person by what non-sensical thing they choose to wear in front of their peers. However, setting up a costume party less than halfway into the month of October is something that really just shouldn't be done. And announcing it only three days before its going to happen, well that's just fucking stupid, William Beckett. Halloween is my favorite holiday meaning I like to put lots of thought into my costume and if I can't have the time I won't do it at all. But while I think going to William's costume party without a costume on just as a little 'fuck you for planning your party poorly and messing with part of my favorite holiday' would be wonderful-- and trust me he would get the message, that sensitive prick-- I can't because the party is entry by costume only. And why, might one ask, would I even force myself to go to this party if I seem to dislike its host and see it as a disrespect to my Halloween costume efforts? Well William happens to be one of Vicky's best friends and I happen to be one of her best friends and she would probably have my ass if I didn't show up. Plus the Beckett family lives in one of those mansions that makes you ask 'why the fuck are you living in Las Vegas? You obviously have the money to be somewhere nice but instead, you waste it trying to make this shithole look appealing to you'. So tiny tangent aside, William's house is fucking nice and has held some great parties.

And so this is why I'm fast walking down the aisles of a thrift store with Spencer who also doesn't have a costume. It wreaks of cigarette smoke in here and in one corner of the shop I'm pretty sure some dumbass took a piss on the ground but I honestly can't worry about that right now because the party is in two hours and this is the fourth thrift shop we've been to today. I bump into Spencer in one of the aisles again but this time I'm holding something that could be useful and he appears to be holding some things too.

Spencer looks me dead in the eye and pulls out a horrendous paisley vest thing that looks like it came straight from Woodstock and in the other hand holds out a pair of worn flare jeans with flower detail at the bottom. I stare back at him dumbfounded but before I can object to this proposal he shoves the items towards me. "Uh, I--"

"Shh shh shh," Spencer hushes, "these are for you, they are meant for you, and I know this because you almost dress kind of like a hippie and you could pass with some of your own additions."

"You're kidding me, right?" I take the clothes from him.

"Also the pants were too tight for my butt," he giggles like an idiot. "But you do have that stupid headband thing and you can just wear an old white t-shirt and-- uh," he looks around frantically for a second, "Oh." Spencer grabs a pair of round, wire-rimmed sunglasses with red lenses from the shop's glasses rack and places them carefully on my face which I'm far too tired to protest at this point. "Boom. You're Lennon."

I blink at him, everything tinted red, and sigh, "Sure."

He grins, very happy with the success of his proposition, "Sick."

I gather all of the items he handed me and check their prices to make sure I can afford them which I can. Thank you thrift store prices. When I hear something like plastic drop near my feet I look down and remember that I had found something for Spencer too. "Hey, Spence, I thought you might like this." I hand him a very realistic fake mustache and his eyes practically light up.

"We're done here," he says without missing a beat and leading the way to the cashier.

~~~

Before I leave the house, I head over to the kitchen and grab two bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin and put one of them and four pills down on my dad's nightstand for when he gets back in and put down the same on my nightstand for when I return. I take one last good look at myself in the mirror before heading out, I have my headband placed under my hair and going across my forehead, I've got the vest that I couldn't wash the specific smell out of all the way on, and these jeans do fit my ass pretty well.

When I'm outside everyone lowers their windows and I see that Jon and Cassie are dressed as Jim and Pam, and Spencer-- that son of a bitch-- he steps out of the car to let me see the completed look. With the fake mustache, he managed to put together an impeccable Anchorman costume complete with no pants and just boxers.

"This mustache is the best thing ever, Ryan," he pats my shoulder as we enter the car.

Jon looks at us through the rearview mirror, "Good luck getting any sort of action with that squirrel on your lip."

"Shut up I look great!" Spencer insists.

We get to the party and are let in by one of Beckett's friends who's checking everyone to make sure they're in costume. The music is loud with a lot of bass in it and even though it's only nine or so, a fairly large amount of people are already here making it difficult to understand regular talking. The house is decked out with Halloween decorations, the lights all tinted different colors and the air is mixed with that sickeningly sweet smell of alcohol and the very distinct smell that fog machines give off. Vicky hugs Spencer and me from behind and thanks us all for coming. She and Beckett have probably been working on setting up the house for ages. She's dressed very convincingly as Betty Boop and behind her, she's joined by Hayley.

"Are you... Elsa?" Spencer asks Hayley who huffs disapprovingly.

"What the fuck?! You are the tenth person to call me Elsa!"

"Yeah you dumbass," I lightly hit Spencer over the head, "She's obviously Rosalina!" Hayley gives me a wide grin and also hits Spencer over the head but with her wand. She and I both snort at Spencer and then I look past her, searching the crowd, "Hey, where's Brendon at?" Brendon has gotten along really well with the rest of the group, as I expected, and he's been hanging out with us. He's funny as hell and is completely unfazed by how weird Vicky and Hayley can be at times which I think is because they're both a lot like Audrey, who he misses terribly. I still know very little about his abrupt move here but I don't think there's that much to it honestly. California is expensive as hell and his parent's got job offers here. So yeah, obviously we've talked but I've been kind of avoiding being alone with him because of what happened last month after what he said after he... um. But it's fine as long as other people are around, like at a party.

Hayley shouts over the music, "He should be in the kitchen. Vicky made him help get out drinks." I nod and make my way over to the kitchen.

When I arrive I realize that I should have also asked what he was dressed as because about 75% of the people in here are either wearing a mask or heavy makeup. I feel a hand on my shoulder and swing around to find someone in a Spider-Man costume holding two drinks in one hand. The person pulls the mask up to just show their face and its Brendon. I instantly start laughing because he's wearing a fucking unitard. He rolls his eyes with a dismissive smirk and shoves a drink in my hand. "It was last minute."

I catch my breath and take a sip of what he handed to me, tastes fruity. "No, you look great, really. Mine was put together an hour ago and still smells like the thrift store." He re-adjusts his mask to keep it from falling into his eyes. "Plus, Spider-Man's my favorite superhero."

"Thanks." It's hard to see in the kitchen's low blue tinted lighting but I swear the color of his cheeks darken a bit. Brendon reaches out and grabs the folded sunglasses hanging from the collar of my t-shirt and places them carefully over my ears and on the bridge of my nose. Everything touched by the blue light goes purple through my red lenses. "Very Summer of Love," He tilts his head looking me over and says once he meets my eyes again, "Groovy."

"Wow," I chuckle, underlyingly unnerved by the way he looks in the purple lighting. I take off my sunglasses, "That was bad." He starts to giggle uncontrollably and now I can see he's already a bit tipsy, "That was really bad-- 'Groovy'?"

"What's groovy?" Vicky comes into the conversation.

"Oh, I am according to Spider-Boy over here," I try not to sound too annoyed by Vicky's nosiness because we weren't talking about anything that important. Brendon is burying his face in his gloved hand still giggling. Fruity drinks always did make him a bit of a giggly drunk. I down the rest of my drink because I obviously need to catch up.

Vicky grabs both of our hands, "C'mon, I'm making you guys dance with me!" I'm already starting to feel a little cloudy so I can barely put up a fight but I find my way to a couch once she lets go of my hand. I do not dance. I just watch and laugh occasionally at Vicky and Brendon who I can tell are dancing badly one purpose. God his ass looks really hot in that Spider-Man suit. Wait. No.

~~~

It's probably around ten thirty-ish now and I left the couch a while ago. I feel kind of weird or out of it or something, and it's not the drinks or the people, I just guess I'm not feeling it tonight. So after searching for a place to separate from the rest of the party I've found myself in one of the guest rooms upstairs which I was pretty shocked wasn't in use. After some time Spencer came and found me and we had a nice casual chat and eventually, some others started to pile in. So a private party has sort of just conjugated in a circle on the shaggy carpeted floor of this random guest room. Cassie is all curled up in Jon's lap, Spencer is sitting next to me but is trying to flirt with a blond chick dressed as a sexy something, Hayley is chatting with William who is dressed as a character that's probably from a Tim Burton movie, and I'm half listening to some of William's friends complain to me about how corrupt the Theater Department at our school is. It's fine though because I've held onto one of the joints floating around the group and nobody's bugging me about it. I'm not entirely sure how I'm feeling right now. Like, my body feels pretty warm and fuzzy but that's from the weed and whatever I've been occasionally drinking.

"Everybody!" William's voice pierces my ears and interrupts everyone's individual conversations, "I say we start a game of Truth or Dare." And that's my cue. I was fine with my peace being infiltrated when I wasn't forced to talk with more than two people but I'm at the end of this joint and I'm definitely not up for the way these games always end.

I pat Spencer on the back and inform him that I'm going to grab a refill and re-enter the loud, thick air of the house party. I'm in a wide hallway, a couple making out at the end near a big window. That's nice. The lights up here aren't tinted but they are dim.

I put my red sunglasses on to amuse myself and start to investigate more doors to find a bathroom. I open a door and while I do find the bathroom I also find another couple making out very intensely against the space between the counter and the toilet. They haven't noticed me so I move to close the door and leave them to it but I stall when my eyes land on the mask that's lying on the tiled floor. I look back up to the two making out and only then do I realize that they're both guys and the one up against the wall is Brendon. I don't move. I don't breathe. I just watch the frenzy of hair pulling and heavy breathing, both their hips rocking together. The unknown guy disconnects and starts working on his neck and Brendon lets his head lull to the side, his eyes closed and swollen pink lips slack. Suddenly Brendon's eyes flutter open and my chest constricts. He finds me but he looks completely unalarmed and does nothing. His eyes have something like flames flickering behind them and as they remain locked on me he bites his bottom lip, holding in a low a moan. I find myself being able to move suddenly and slowly close the door, my hand trembling when it lets go of the handle. The couple that was by the window before is gone. How long was I standing there for?

I fast walk to the other side of the second floor to find a different bathroom. Once I find one I throw off my stupid glasses and start the sink to splash cold water on my face, my heart rate is going dangerously fast. I turn the water off and just lean against the sink, water still dripping off my burning face. I look down and-- yep, fuck me-- I'm rocking a raging hard-on. It probably wouldn't be so bad if I hadn't smoked basically an entire joint of rich people weed by myself just eight minutes ago. God, I don't want to but I can tell it's not gonna go away, I'm too fucking inebriated and I just keep picturing-- shit. My hands fumble to undo my belt buckle. I get a pump of the lotion by the sink and try to jerk off as fast as possible, hating myself. Fucking Brendon and his pretty fucking mouth and his tight round ass. I'm thinking back to me watching his hips jerking forward onto that random fucking guy. God, and when he opened his eyes he knew it was me. Why the fuck was he just watching me watch him hooking up with another guy? The way his intensity increased when he saw me. He was using me to help him get off. The thought of me getting him off in that Spider-Man suit makes me unload right into the toilet. He always was kind of a slutty bottom like that. Goddamnit, I don't want to think of him like that-- I can't think of him like that.

I sit down against the wall the cold tile coming through the back on my shirt. Man, do I feel fucking empty. I've never felt so sad after jerking off while high as shit. I can't help myself from feeling a burning hatred for whoever that guy was. He could have him but I just can't. But I know I shouldn't because Brendon isn't mine, he can do whatever he wants. If anything I should be mad at Brendon. I should be mad he didn't do anything, he knows what he does to me. Fuck, he was drunk, he probably couldn't help it. I feel gross. I just wiped down myself and the toilet and my crotch smells like fucking lemons and I feel so gross.

I feel something warm on my face and bring up a hand realizing that I've started to cry. I'm not sobbing but tears are just sorta falling from my eyes and I can't stop it. God, why am I being such a fucking mess? I blame it on the fruity drinks. I get my phone out to check the time and it reads 10:57 pm. I don't have a ride home for at least another hour and a half.

The door opens and I mentally slap myself for forgetting to lock it. It's Hayley. She starts a bit when she first sees me, "Shit, Ry, sor--," she gets a better look at me and is flushed with concern, "Oh, Ryan." Hayley shuts the door very cautiously behind her and hurries over to me. She sits down next to me on the ground and puts an unsure hand on my back. She looks almost scared-- I mean I've only ever cried in front of Spencer and maybe once in front of Jon so I don't blame her. "What happened? Ryan, what's wrong?"

I don't know what to say because I can't tell her what's wrong which makes me feel even worse. I've been caught. Hayley knows nothing but I've been caught. I look her in the eyes and she's just putting off so much concern and love. My voice croaks out, "Don't tell the others, okay?"

"Don't tell the others what?"

"Just don't tell the others," I repeat and she nods. I slump into her tiny side and she just holds onto me and pets my hair as I try to stop trembling.