As classes progress and the days becomes routine, the weeks begin to pass in a blur.

Sean and I see each other often as we sit beside each other in all the classes we share and work on assignments together. Our homework meetings change from occurring once a week to nearly every day. We drift away from working in the library, and our usual study spot becomes the small table at the back of the school cafe. Though one of the chairs is wobbly and the small table isn't ideal, I grow fond the place. It is especially beautiful when the afternoon sun cascades through the windows and bathes the cafe in warm, yellow light.

I learn things about Sean I never expected to remember. Like how Sean is addicted to coffee and loves mochas and flat whites. His favorite color is blue. He likes telling jokes and making people laugh, and he can carry on a conversation for hours. His wardrobe consists of jean jackets and hoodies, plaid shirts, and a single red beanie that he wears almost daily. Back home in Massachusetts, he has a little sister, only ten years old, with whom he shares all his stories. 

From the way he speaks of his family, I can tell that he loves them very much. It endears him to me, but there are moments when jealousy spikes in my stomach and bitter envy floods my mouth. At times like this, I hate that my despicable soul cannot simply be happy for him.

My nineteenth birthday comes and goes with little fanfare. Sean manages to ferret it out of me and insists on buying me a London Fog — my favorite drink — as a birthday gift. I tell him it's no big occasion to fuss over, but he shushes me with a "Nonsense," and scrambles to join the line-up at the cafe counter. I watch as he waits in line, fingers fiddling with the drawstring of his hoodie, daisies blooming at his feet.

"Happy nineteenth," he says when he returns, setting the drink down in front of me. The sun, when he sits across from me, dusts his cheeks with gold and melts the honey-brown of his eyes. I don't think he realizes how grateful I am for this small moment of celebration, and the "Thank you" I say feels wholly inadequate.

My mother calls that evening. "Happy birthday," she says, the words crisp and business-like. "Have you changed your mind?" I tell her I haven't, and the line goes dead. The call timer flashes 0:08 on my screen for a long time.

I don't get much sleep that night, but I haven't had a good night's rest in a long time. Discounting the nights where I am doing homework in the early hours of the morning, I am often too restless, and even when I do manage to snatch some rest, panic finds ways to worry me awake. Sometimes, I find myself waking to frantically check the time, afraid that I've missed my alarm, only to realize that it is three in the morning. Then I repeat the same cycle at six.

It doesn't help that my dreams have been strange and repetitive. Ever since school started, I've dreamt of the flower field and its fox-like creature many times. After the first dream, I haven't spoken to it at all. I watch from afar as it frolics among the flowers, careful to keep my distance. Usually it ignores my presence, but whenever it looks my way and latches its golden eyes on me, nothing good happens.

The drowsy buzzing of bees magnifies until their humming discord deafens my ears. The wind whips itself into a tornado and careens towards me. Butterflies with scintillating, razor-edged wings swarm me, slicing at my skin enough to hurt, but not to bleed. Each incident is preceded by the creature's toothy smile and followed by my waking with my heartbeat drumming against my ribs. My garbage can grows full with colorful feathers and flower petals.

The days draw shorter and the sun grows lazy to rise. Frost trails its icy fingers over the campus lawn and the forest sheds the last of its summer greens in exchange for the full vibrance of autumn. The cafe starts offering pumpkin spice latte, and the aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg abounds. Orange and black decorations appear on windows, announcing the approach of Halloween, and with it comes the looming dread of midterm season.

"Was it Perseus or Theseus who killed the Minotaur?" I ask, flipping through my notes. Classical Studies is the first of our rapidly approaching midterms. I'm already doing poorer than I imagined I would, and I need a good grade to bring up my mark.

Sean looks up from his math problem, sunlight pooling around him like a halo. "Theseus," he says. "Perseus killed Medusa." Sean's strongest subject besides English is Classical Studies, but his grades in Calculus are abysmal. We balance each other out.

"There's too many names," I mutter, jotting down notes. I have several sheets written, dated and titled by chapter, each containing details about Zeus' frequent unfaithfulness and the resulting petty wars of the pantheon. If Zeus had remained with his wife, I think, then a lot of the gods' problems would never have happened.

Sean's lip quirks in a smile as he returns to his math problem. A moment later, he turns his paper around to face me. "I don't understand how chain rule works here, could you explain . . . ?"

"Sure." It takes me a moment to read over the question, then my pencil scratches out numbers onto paper. I explain the problem as plainly as I can and Sean nods along, stopping when he has a question. He leans in to solve the next part on his own, his dark curls close to my cheek. I try to keep my breathing even as I watch him work. Sean scribbles out the correct answer and I give him an approving nod. "That's right," I say, and he grins.

A hand smacks down on our table and we startle apart. I look up to see Hugh and his girlfriend, Beth, standing beside us, Hugh's palm splayed on top of our papers. 

Hugh and Beth are first years like Sean and I. Beth is an Engineering major, so I haven't spoken with her much, but Hugh lives in the dorm beside mine and we've talked a few times. I don't consider him more than an acquaintance, but he grins at Sean and I like we're his best friends.

"Hi Beth, Hugh." Sean greets them with a wave.

"Working hard, I see," Beth says, an eyebrow raised. She glances at Sean and I as if expecting a reaction, but I don't know what she's searching for. Sean tilts his head in bewilderment. Hugh slaps the table again to get our attention.

"Do you guys have plans this weekend?" he asks. I furrow my eyebrows, confused.

"There's a pre-midterm Halloween party going on at Tommy's place this Saturday, 8PM," Beth says, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "He's got a waterfront property and his parents are gone for the weekend. It's a chance to wind down from the exam stress, maybe have some booze. I think some people are going to swim and get hypothermia. You interested?"

"It'll be fun," Hugh insists. "You guys should come."

Unease swims through my gut. This party that Beth describes goes against everything I've been taught. I can imagine what my mother would say, and none of it is pleasant.

"Do you want to go?" Sean asks, his voice breaking through my thoughts. I have a regretful 'no' formed on my lips, but as I gaze at his hopeful expression, the denial dies in my throat. He watches me with expectant brown eyes brimming with excitement, and I am reminded that my mother isn't here to dictate my actions. With that, my decision is made.

"Okay," I say. The joy on Sean's face makes my stomach do a strange flip-flop. I force my gaze back down to my notes and fill my thoughts with the names of Greek heroes.

~*~

"What on earth are you wearing?" I ask.

Beth and Hugh are dressed in off-white togas, fake laurels resting on their brows. Sean is wearing his usual outfit, but as he turns away from them to smile at me, I notice a pair of fox ears sticking out of his hair. Beth gives me a once-over and shakes her head.

"You guys are two of a kind," she grumbles, fishing for something in her handbag. She tosses it to me. I catch it and stare at the headband with deer antlers, perplexed. Beth motions for me to put it on. "It's a Halloween party," she says as if explaining to a six-year-old kid, "You're supposed to dress up."

I glance down at my skinny jeans and green bomber jacket. "I'll go as a college student," I say. Sean grins in a way that makes me think he'd given Beth the same excuse.

Beth rolls her eyes. "Two of a kind!" she complains. "Just wear it, okay?"

"Where did you even get these?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream pageant."

I glance at Sean and he gives a sheepish shrug. Grudgingly, I put on the headband. The cheap plastic pokes at the skin behind my ears.

We make the fifteen minute walk to Tommy's house, following a paved road that leads through the woods and down the slope towards Echo Lake. Dusk sinks into twilight and paints the night in indigo hues. Solitary street lamps appear at intervals for half the trek and when the last of their dim glow fades behind us, we pick our way through the dark by the light of our phones.

Tommy's place is easily identifiable by the open door, pulsing music, and loud clamoring from within. Tommy himself greets us at the door, wearing a floral shirt covered in pineapples and a colorful lei around his neck. He pushes up his sunglasses so they nestle in his black hair and gives us a broad grin.

"Welcome to the par-tay!" Tommy yells, throwing his arms into the air. He and Hugh do an elaborate handshake before he slaps Hugh on the back and moves out of the doorway. "Drinks over there, snacks over there, no puking and no banging in the house." Tommy shoots a look between Beth and Hugh. "I do not want to clean up that mess, okay?" Beth swats his shoulder and Tommy chortles. "Have fun, kids!" he exclaims before turning his attention to another newcomer.

Beth and Hugh split away from us after that and get lost in the crowd. Sean and I meander to the drinks table, where he fills a cup with a suspicious, vibrant pink drink while I opt for a can of soda. A group dressed in animal pajamas ropes us into their conversation. My throat soon grows hoarse from constant use; I'm not used to speaking at length, trying to make my voice heard over the din. The music drums against my ears ceaselessly and the noise, combined with the heat of warm bodies crammed into a room, makes me nauseous. I finish my soda and make an excuse to get another one, glad for the chance to take a break. 

As I head to the drinks table, a glance at my phone screen tells me the time and my spirit plummets. It's only been an hour, and I'm already exhausted. The bass pounds against my skull like a throbbing headache. I filch another soda and glance back at Sean, still happily rambling away. A girl in a pink bunny suit pokes his cheek and he laughs. My original plan was to return back to the conversation, but I don't think I can stomach another hour in this room. I need fresh air. 

The cool evening breeze seeping from the open back door beckons to me. I feel guilty leaving without telling Sean, but I don't want to disturb their conversation. They're having fun, and I won't interrupt them with my selfishness. Turning away, I pull open the back door and follow the path down to the lake front, leaving the party behind me.

~*~

Chapter four and we've hit the 8k mark!! Huzzah! 

Do you guys dress up for Halloween? Or are you more like Finn?

Word Count: 2051

~*~

Interested in other ONC novellas? Check these ones out! You can find them in my ONC2020 reading list.

Dreamcatcher, by @SmokeAndOranges

Match Made, by @solorzanowriter

Once A Ghost Buddy, by @indigosa