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pucked-bunnie · 27 days ago

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told you so 2.0 ⎜ l.hughes

pairings: luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ platonic?ethan edwards x afab!reader genre: romance ⎜ friends - to - lovers ⎜ warnings: none tbh synopsis: you didnt know a trip to a theme park for halloween horror nights would change your 'just friends' status word count: 6.6k authors note: SURPRISE!! it has been almost a year since I started this blog and as a huge thank you to my almost 700 followers I wanted to rewrite and repost my first ever fic which has gain almost 1000 notes - thank you thank you to everyone who has ever shown me and my work support - I hope you all enjoy.

(unedited)

"Wake up."

A voice cuts through the quiet of the morning, pulling you from the edges of sleep. You groan, shifting deeper into the warmth of the blankets, and drag a pillow over your head in protest. The last thing you want is to be disturbed.

The bed dips as a weight settles near your feet, a deliberate presence pressing down at the base of the mattress. You know exactly who it is before they even speak again.

"Wake up," the voice whines, this time accompanied by an insistent nudge against your leg.

You shift away, curling further into the body beside you as if that alone will shield you from the intrusion. A soft, sleepy grumble sounds next to your ear, warm breath ghosting over your shoulder.

"Go away," you mumble, voice thick with sleep.

Luke stirs beside you, letting out a low, irritated groan. His arm, which had been loosely slung around your waist at some point during the night, tightens slightly before he shifts, lifting his head just enough to glare toward the foot of the bed.

"Jack, get out," he rasps, voice rough and heavy with sleep. His fingers flex against your hip before he pulls away, rubbing a hand over his face.

Jack, unbothered as always, lets out a laugh, clearly amused by your combined misery.

A flicker of irritation bubbles up. With a frustrated sigh, you grab the nearest pillow and blindly fling it in Jack’s direction. There’s a satisfying thump as it connects.

Jack makes an exaggerated noise of protest, and you allow yourself a victorious smile before finally sitting up. The movement pulls you slightly away from Luke’s lingering warmth, and you shiver at the cool air brushing against your skin.

Your fingers instinctively find your hair, encountering tangles and the stubborn pull of a scrunchie still wrapped around a messy section of strands. You’d forgotten to take it out last night.

Jack watches you struggle with an amused grin. "What are you even doing in here?" you grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Jack’s grin widens as he flicks his phone open and drops it onto the mattress between you and Luke. "We’re going out."

You blink. "Out?"

Jack doesn’t answer right away, letting the mystery linger as you glance down at his phone. The bright screen reveals an open ticket confirmation.

Your brows furrow as you lean closer, reading the details. "A theme park?"

Jack hums in confirmation, his expression practically glowing with mischief. "Managed to snag tickets to Halloween Horror Nights."

Your heart jumps.

"Horror Nights?" you echo, suddenly wide awake.

Jack nods. "You’ve been talking about it for weeks."

You have. The haunted houses, the scare zones, the immersive horror experience—you’d been gushing about it for ages.

Beside you, a slow, deliberate tug at your hair makes you pause. Luke’s fingers curl into the tangled strands, his movements lazy but deliberate as he works at the scrunchie caught in the mess. He’s still half-asleep, his expression unreadable, but there’s something about the way his touch lingers that sends warmth curling low in your stomach.

Jack is still talking, oblivious. "the fair’s got all the new haunted houses this year. It’s gonna be sick."

You barely hear him. Luke’s fingers slide through your hair, untangling a stubborn knot with careful precision. The soft scrape of his nails against your scalp sends an unintentional shiver down your spine.

He notices.

There’s a hint of amusement in his gaze when you glance at him, the barest quirk of his lips as he continues his slow, absentminded movements. You swallow, suddenly hyperaware of how close he still is, the warmth of his body radiating against your side.

Jack’s phone vibrates with an incoming message, and he snatches it back quickly. The screen flashes briefly before he locks it, his ears turning suspiciously red.

You narrow your eyes. "What was that?"

Jack clears his throat. "Nothing." He stands abruptly. "Quinn said we’re leaving at twelve, so you better get ready." His tone is sing-song, teasing, before he disappears from the room with his phone glued to his face.

Silence settles in his absence.

The warmth of Luke’s fingers disappears from your hair, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he lingers, his palm briefly skimming over your shoulder before falling away.

You glance at him, catching the way his gaze traces the curve of your bare collarbone before he exhales deeply and flops back onto the mattress. His arm drapes over his eyes, voice low and muffled.

"No."

You blink. "No?"

"Too early. Too much effort." His fingers flex against the sheets before going still.

You hesitate, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Then, with a knowing smile, you pick up the previously discarded pillow and smack him with it.

He lets out a deep groan but doesn’t move.

You nudge him with your knee. "Come on, it’ll be fun."

No response.

You hit him with the pillow again. This time, his fingers shoot out, wrapping around your wrist before you can retreat.

Your breath catches.

His grip is loose, his thumb skimming over the inside of your wrist, tracing lazy, absentminded circles against your skin. The touch is light, barely there, but it sets off a slow-burning warmth beneath your ribs.

Your pulse flutters.

Luke shifts, tilting his head just enough to peek at you from beneath his arm. His gaze is heavy, still thick with sleep, but there’s something else there, something unreadable that makes your stomach flip.

"Fine," he murmurs, voice gravelly.

Then, in one slow, reluctant movement, he lets go of your wrist, rolling off the bed. He hits the floor with a dull thump and groans, dragging himself up with all the enthusiasm of a man being forced into battle.

You bite back a smile.

"Victory," you whisper to yourself.

Luke catches it. He glances at you over his shoulder, eyes flicking to your mouth, before shaking his head with a soft huff of laughter. "You’re impossible."

You grin. "You love it."

He doesn’t argue.

Instead, he disappears into the bathroom, leaving you sitting on the bed, heart racing a little faster than it probably should.

Halloween Horror Nights, here you come.

“So you two just slept?” Ethan’s voice carries a lazy curiosity, but there’s something underneath—the sharpness of a question he’s not sure he wants the answer to. The way his words hang in the air feels heavier than usual.

You glance at him quickly as he settles beside you on the couch, his knee brushing lightly against yours, sending a strange little shock through you. You’re halfway through tying the laces of your Converse when his question catches you off guard. Your fingers tighten on the laces, a slight tremor in your hands.

“Yep,” you answer, your voice clear and straightforward, though the intensity of his stare makes your pulse hitch in a way that’s hard to ignore. “Why?”

Ethan doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leans back into the couch, his arms draped lazily behind him, his gaze never leaving you. It’s as if he’s trying to read something in your face, trying to catch a crack in your expression, some hint of the truth he’s looking for.

“Just curious,” he says after a moment, but the offhandedness feels forced—like he’s trying too hard to sound casual.

You roll your eyes, focusing back on your laces, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. “We’ve been friends for years. You, me, and Luke. Since we started at Michigan. Remember?” You look up at him briefly, trying to lighten the mood, but there’s a lingering question in his eyes that doesn’t fade.

Of course, Ethan remembers. The three of you meeting at that university open house all those years ago, an easy friendship forming in the middle of a chaotic crowd. Back then, it was just the three of you—Luke, Ethan, and you—a perfect trio. The bond between the two hockey players had only strengthened when they were drafted together to New Jersey. And somehow, you remained their unshakable constant, their person—the one who’d always been there.

Ethan hums vaguely in response, tapping his fingers against his thigh in rhythm, but there’s an underlying tension now. “So, nothing happened at all?” he asks again, a knowing edge to his voice.

You pause, narrowing your eyes at him. His grin is too playful, too knowing, like he’s trying to figure something out, probing for an answer. "Yes, Ethan. Nothing happened."

Your tone is clipped now, the patience slipping away as his grin deepens, spreading like a silent challenge. The way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flutter in a way you don’t want to admit.

You push yourself to your feet with an exasperated sigh, moving toward the counter to grab your mini backpack. You quickly check to make sure you have everything you need for the day, but the weight of Ethan’s gaze on you is almost palpable.

“I mean,” you add, glancing back over your shoulder at him, “I would’ve shared a bed with you if the roles were reversed.”

That’s enough to make something in Ethan shift. His grin falters, just a flicker of it, but you catch it. His posture changes, his shoulders straightening as he locks eyes with you. His blue eyes are focused now, like he’s considering something, weighing the possibility of your words.

“Is that so?” he muses, tilting his head slightly, his voice low but laced with a different kind of interest now.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but there’s something in your chest tightening—nervous excitement, or something else you’re not sure you want to name. The tension between you two is always a little too thick, always straddling the line between playful and… dangerous.

Before either of you can say anything more, a sharp voice cuts through the moment.

“Leave her alone, E.”

Luke’s voice is low, a command laced with something that feels deeper, more possessive.

You turn toward him just in time to catch his gaze—furrowed brows, jaw set, and eyes flicking between you and Ethan. His curly hair is still tousled from sleep, his lips parted as if he wants to say something more, but something holds him back.

Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock onto yours, and there’s something in the intensity of his gaze that makes your fingers curl into the strap of your bag. You don’t dare look away, but before you can dwell on it, Quinn’s voice calls from the front door, breaking the moment and the tension.

“If you’re ready, let’s go.”

You breathe a little easier, grateful for the distraction. You quickly join Quinn by the door, standing beside him as he hands you the keys to the car. But before you can grab them, Ethan snatches them out of your hands. “We’ll meet you in the car,” he says, his smirk only deepening at your surprised expression.

You glare at him, but Ethan just winks, completely unapologetic. “Just don’t kill each other.” Quinn groans.

“Aye aye, Captain,” you mock, offering Quinn a halfhearted salute as you follow Ethan out to the car, still trying to shake the weight of what just happened.

Sliding into the backseat, you barely get settled before Ethan speaks again, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“It’s just interesting,” he starts, adjusting the air conditioning dials, the sudden coolness of the air contrasting with the heat in the car. “Two single people share a bed and nothing happens.” His tone is teasing, but it’s a little too pointed.

You groan, dropping your head back against the seat in exasperation. “Ethan.”

His smirk is practically a permanent fixture now, stretching across his face. He leans back, completely at ease in his own skin. “I’m just saying,” he continues, scooting over the center console to flop into the seat beside you. “It’s weird.”

You open your mouth to retort but are cut off as the car door opens. Luke slides in, his eyes flicking between you and Ethan, and his expression is unreadable.

You immediately shift to make room, moving into the middle seat so Luke can sit beside you. As you do, you can feel Ethan’s eyes on you, lingering, his arm brushing against yours as he settles into his spot.

You reach for your seatbelt, but in your haste, you grab Ethan’s instead. He tugs at it, trying to pull it out of your grasp. “Give me my seatbelt,” he huffs, his voice playful but insistent.

Your grip stays firm. “You don’t deserve safety,” you deadpan, meeting his eyes with a stubborn tilt of your chin.

Quinn snorts from the front, his voice dripping with amusement. “Give him his seatbelt.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you let go, but not without a little extra force. The seatbelt snaps against Ethan’s arm, and he hisses from the sting.

Luke, silent beside you, exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head at your antics. But you notice his knee bump against yours, and he doesn’t move away. His body is tense, coiled, like there’s something he wants to say but isn’t. His fingers curl into a fist against his thigh, and you feel the weight of it.

The air feels thick with unspoken tension, and for a moment, no one speaks.

Ethan leans back, stretching his arm across the backseat, his fingers ghosting over your shoulder. Luke’s whole body stiffens beside you, his muscles locking up for just a second before he forces himself to relax, but you don’t miss it.

You pretend not to notice. You also pretend your heart isn’t racing.

“They really went all out on the decorations, didn’t they?” Luke asks as everyone climbs out of the car, taking in the transformed entrance to Universal Studios. The Halloween decorations are next-level—fog rolling over the pavement, eerie lights casting long shadows, and scare actors already lingering near the gates.

“No need to be scared, Lukey,” Ethan coos as he rounds the car, his voice dripping with amusement. Before you can react, he slings an arm over your shoulder, the warmth of his body pressing into your side. You feel Luke’s gaze flick toward you—not at Ethan, but at the way Ethan is holding you.

“They’re just actors,” Ethan continues, pulling you in closer, his chest flush against your back. His chin rests on your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers trace idle patterns on your arm, his grin widening as Luke frowns.

Without another word, Ethan tugs you forward, leading you toward the gates with his arm still draped around you. His grip stays firm, his fingertips barely brushing the bare skin of your arm.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, casting a glance at your friends trailing behind. Ethan follows your gaze before leaning in, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“Proving a point,” he whispers, low and teasing.

Your stomach tightens, but you shake it off as the crowd at the front gates grows. The actors are already getting into character, their movements unsettling as they press against the metal bars, reaching for the guests with practiced menace.

One particularly tall clown stops in front of you, his gloved hands stretching through the bars, reaching.

You let out a nervous laugh, stepping back on instinct—and right out of Ethan’s embrace. Instead, you find yourself next to Luke, who’s hanging back, watching the crowd with a wary expression.

“Clowns?” he mutters in clear distaste. You nod, biting back a grin as you take in his expression.

“What was Ethan whispering to you?” Luke asks quietly. His arms remain stiff at his sides, but his posture shifts slightly as his eyes flick toward Ethan, who’s now animatedly chatting with his older brothers.

“Nothing,” you say quickly, maybe too quickly.

Luke isn’t convinced. He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Seriously,” you add, forcing a casual tone. “It was just Ethan being Ethan.”

Luke makes a noise in the back of his throat, clearly unimpressed. Before he can push further, there’s a sudden burst of excitement as Jack’s voice cuts through the crowd.

You turn just in time to see Cole Caulfield pushing through the masses, his unmistakable grin growing wider as he spots you and where Cole goes, Trevor Zegras is never far behind.

Before you can react, Cole sweeps you into a hug, lifting you from the ground and spinning you effortlessly.

“I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaims, still holding you tight.

“Neither did we!” you laugh as he finally sets you down. Your head spins slightly, and before you can steady yourself, Luke’s hand presses gently against your lower back.

The gesture is subtle but grounding, his fingers barely pressing into the fabric of your shirt.

You send a quick wave to Trevor, who grins back before turning his attention to Jack. The moment is interrupted by a sharp, blaring bullhorn. The gates rattle as the actors lurch forward, fully slipping into their roles.

“You’re mine, little girl,” the clown sneers, his fingers curling toward you through the bars.

A shiver runs down your spine, your nervous smile faltering. Instinctively, you take another step back—only for Luke to step closer, his presence solid beside you. His thumb rubs a slow, reassuring circle against your back.

“I really hate clowns,” he mutters, his voice low, almost just for you.

“Ditto,” you admit, reaching a hand back without thinking. Your fingers find his, and without hesitation, he laces them together. His palm is warm but slightly sweaty.

As the gates swing open, you tighten your grip, pulling him forward.

“Where to first?” you ask as the group moves inside, dodging scare actors left and right. Cole and Trevor are already scouting rides, pointing toward the giant drop.

Everyone nods in agreement, and you make your way over, though moving quickly is near impossible with actors constantly jumping out for scares.

Cole is the first to fall victim, getting sandwiched between two grotesque zombies. His pleas for mercy earn nothing but laughter from the group as they abandon him to his fate.

Luke’s hand squeezes yours every time a monster comes too close, his grip steady and protective. Occasionally, he even sacrifices one of his brothers as a distraction.

When the ride finally comes into view, you stare up at it, a slight frown tugging at your lips.

“Oh wow, this is a lot higher than I remember,” you exclaim as you and your friends join the line for the ride, your eyes scanning the towering structure in front of you. Everyone’s chatting about their past experiences, sharing stories of the last time they were on this ride, each one a mix of nerves and excitement. You can feel the anticipation building in your chest, but it’s the sight of the ride’s height that makes your stomach drop.

Ethan casually strolls over, making his way through the crowd and stopping beside you. His gaze falls immediately to your joined hands with Luke, and a knowing grin spreads across his face. You feel the subtle flex of Luke’s fingers in yours before you pull your hand away, glancing up at Ethan with a glare.

“I wanna sit in the middle of my two best friends,” Ethan teases, his arm slinging over Luke’s shoulder without a second thought, completely ignoring the way Luke looks down at his empty hand, then back to yours. You can practically feel the tension ripple between them.

“No,” Luke says flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He shoves Ethan’s arm off his shoulder with surprising force, before adding, “She can sit in the middle.”

“Suits me,” Ethan replies nonchalantly, his eyes shifting to you with a mischievous glint. He reaches out to grab your hand, but you quickly pull away, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh c’mon, hold my hand,” Ethan whines, making grabbing motions with his fingers like an overgrown child.

“No thanks,” you respond with a smirk, watching as his face falls just slightly.

“I know you’re scared of heights,” Ethan teases, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrug casually, though inside, your heart is already racing. “I’d rather die scared than hold your hand,” you hiss back, the grin on your face a perfect match for the sharpness in your words.

The group laughs as the line inches forward, but the teasing energy isn’t quite over yet. Suddenly, Jack’s voice breaks through, catching your attention.

“I’m so sorry, guys, we just have one more with our group.” His words are directed at the people behind you, and you turn just in time to see a small blonde girl shyly stepping forward to join your group. Jack, without missing a beat, ushers her to his side, ignoring everyone else as he starts a quiet conversation with her.

“Wow, not even an introduction?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, a little put out by Jack’s blatant disregard. He only glances toward you, a deep blush rising on his cheeks as he pulls the blonde closer to his side, looking thoroughly embarrassed.

“Next group!” The ride worker calls, ushering people through the line. Trevor grabs Quinn and, in his usual dramatic fashion, makes him promise not to let him die on this death trap. Ethan is quickly guided to a seat beside Cole, and the worker motions for you and Luke to move to the other side of the ride.

“Sucked in,” you tease Ethan with a grin as you pass him, sticking your tongue out playfully. As you walk away, you pull your bag off your shoulders, placing it carefully in front of your seat before glancing at the seatbelt harness, wondering if you’ll even fit in this thing without a fight.

“Need some help?” Luke’s voice comes from behind you, soft but with a playful edge, as he approaches his own seat. You shake your head, determined to do this on your own, and turn around to try lifting yourself into the seat.

The first try is a bust. You huff in frustration, pushing yourself up only to slide back down, your legs dangling uselessly. The second attempt is better, but still not enough. Luke’s quiet laugh cuts through your growing annoyance. With a gentle but firm grip on your waist, he gives you a lift on the third try, your butt finally sliding into the seat.

“Comfy?” Luke confirms, his voice close and warm. When you nod, he moves easily to his own seat, lifting himself effortlessly into place. The worker begins making quick work of securing everyone’s harnesses, tightening them with practiced ease.

“Good luck, everyone!” the worker says with a smile as the ride begins its ascent, the chair slowly rising, leaving the ground behind as your feet dangle.

“Luke?” You call out, your voice barely audible over the sound of the gears turning beneath you. You glance at him as he turns his head toward you. He hums in response, his eyes meeting yours.

“Can you hold my hand?” you ask quietly, almost shy now, feeling the rising dread in your chest. You remove your gaze from the floor to meet his, waiting for his response.

Without hesitation, his hand reaches for yours, enveloping it in a comforting grip. His fingers tighten gently around yours, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you.

“You’re shaking,” Luke observes softly, his voice tender as he looks at you with concern.

You just nod, swallowing the lump in your throat as the anticipation makes your stomach churn. “I’m scared,” you admit quietly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the ride’s slow, mechanical climb. “It’s just the anticipation.”

Luke’s gaze softens, and he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “You didn’t have to come on if you were this scared,” he says, his voice full of care.

Shaking your head, you force a smile, trying to reassure him. “No, I wanted to. I just need to get through it.”

Your other hand grips the harness in front of you, your knuckles white, as you squeeze Luke’s hand even tighter. The ride finally comes to a stop at the top, and your breath catches in your throat as you take in the expansive view of the park. The lights of the rides below blink like distant stars, and you catch sight of the scare actors continuing their work down on the ground.

“Wow,” you murmur, your voice a little awestruck as you look out over the park.

“Yeah, wow,” Luke responds softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes, however, are still glued to the side of your face, studying you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter.

Suddenly, Trevor’s voice echoes from the other side of the ride, piercing the moment. “We’re gonna die!”

Luke lifts your hand, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his smile a comforting contrast to the chaotic sounds of the ride.

The ride clicks, the sudden drop tearing a scream from your lips as the ride plummets to the ground. The initial terror quickly shifts to exhilaration, your scream dissolving into laughter as the ride slows, coming to a halt.

“We’re alive,” Trevor exclaims, his voice filled with disbelief. You can almost hear Quinn’s eyes rolling from the other side of the ride.

“She’s cute,” you whisper as you slide into the seat beside Jack, taking a long sip of water, smiling as the man looks over at his new girlfriend.

“She is.” He whispers back, turning to face you with an equally cheeky grin. “What about you? Just friends?” He nods toward his younger brother, eyebrows raised as you glance at Luke.

“I don’t know anymore,” you grumble, shoulders slumping as Jack pats your arm reassuringly. “There are moments where I think he’s gonna say something, or do something, and then… nothing. And I’m too chicken to make a move because—what if we are just friends to him?”

Jack lets out a surprised laugh, looking at you like you’ve grown a second head before glancing toward his little brother. Luke’s attention is already on you and Jack, his brows drawn together slightly.

“You okay?” Luke mouths, and you nod quickly, dropping your gaze back to the worn wooden picnic table.

“Are you kidding me?” Jack asks, voice low but incredulous. “You have to be fucking with me if you think he only sees you as a friend.” Jack leans in, keeping his voice hushed but urgent. “Luke would never come to something like this if it wasn’t for you. He would rather die than come face-to-face with a clown.”

“Yeah, because we’re friends. Friends hang out,” you argue, but Jack shakes his head.

“Not even close. Luke doesn’t do things like this for his friends. And he definitely doesn’t share his two-grand orthopaedic mattress with someone he considers ‘just a friend.’” Jack leans in conspiratorially, his grin widening. “One year, Ethan tried to share his bed, and Luke literally dragged him out of the room before locking him out. Kept his door under lock and key the entire summer.”

“Hey, are you coming to the haunted house with us?” Ethan’s voice cuts through the moment as he jogs over, stopping beside you with a hand extended. You glance at Luke, who’s still watching you and Jack, then take Ethan’s hand, letting him pull you up.

“Just remember what I was telling you,” Jack murmurs before turning his attention back to his girlfriend, who’s now offering him a bite of her churro.

“So, what was he telling you?” Ethan asks as the two of you lag behind the group, your hands swinging slightly between you.

“Honestly?” You hesitate, and Ethan nods quickly. “He was telling me I’m stupid for thinking Luke doesn’t see me as more than a friend.”

Ethan pauses mid-step before continuing, his grip on your hand tightening. “He’s right.” His voice is softer now, his gaze flickering toward his best friend. “Luke adores you.” Ethan’s fingers squeeze yours again before he leans down, his voice dropping lower. “But if we’re wrong, and he doesn’t feel that way… it won’t change things between us.”

His breath is warm against your ear, his fingers grazing your wrist as he lets go. Then, just before he pulls away completely, he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your cheek. A quiet moment, yet charged enough to send your heart hammering.

He lingers for just a second longer than necessary, his lips hovering near your skin as if debating something. A breath—his exhale uneven—before he finally straightens, jaw tensing. There’s something in his eyes when you meet his gaze, something quickly shuttered the moment he realizes he’s being watched.

Luke is watching. You know it before you even turn your head, feel the weight of his stare like a static charge in the air. Ethan knows it too. His fingers twitch at his side, his mouth pressing into a firm line, but he forces a lopsided grin, like none of it mattered at all.

A chill runs down your spine, and the moment Ethan steps away, the air suddenly feels heavier. He walks ahead, but there’s a stiffness to his posture, a hesitance that betrays the easy confidence he tries to project.

And for the first time, you wonder if Luke isn’t the only one holding back.

A chill slithers down your spine, icy fingers creeping along your skin, as you watch Ethan’s retreating figure fade into the distance. The air around you thickens, heavy with an oppressive weight that seems to press down on your chest. A looming shadow stretches across the ground, its dark presence swallowing the fading light.

“I knew I’d find you again,” a voice murmurs, low and guttural, sending a fresh wave of dread coursing through your veins.

Before you can react, the unmistakable feeling of fabric-covered hands clamps down on your arms, fingers digging into your flesh with an almost painful intensity. A shock of fear bursts through your system, freezing you in place as you’re yanked off the path, your body spun violently.

You stagger, heart racing, and your stomach flips when your eyes lock onto the figure in front of you. It’s him. The clown. The same grotesque one you saw earlier, his face twisted into a grotesque parody of a grin, the white greasepaint cracking along the edges like the remnants of a shattered mask. His eyes gleam with something dark—something that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“What the fuck?” The words spill from your lips, trembling despite your attempt at defiance. You try to twist out of his unyielding grip, but it’s like trying to escape a vice. Your body freezes in place for just a second, a flicker of panic catching in your throat.

You force a weak laugh, your voice trembling as you fight to stay composed. “Ha-ha, funny. You got me,” you manage, but the sarcasm feels thin, fragile against the gravity of the situation. The clown doesn’t laugh, doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just stares at you, his unnerving grin spreading wider—wider—until it seems to consume his entire face. His eyes never leave yours, as though he’s waiting for something, relishing the fear that pulses between you.

Your breath catches in your throat, every instinct screaming at you to escape. “You can let go now,” you snap, trying to wrench your arms from his grip, but instead of loosening, his fingers tighten. For a long moment, the pressure intensifies, his hold unyielding. The scent of stale makeup and something sickly sweet wafts around you. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he releases you.

You stagger backward, disoriented, but before you can regain your footing, you’re suddenly jolted backward into a firm, solid chest. A familiar, comforting warmth presses against your spine, and your body instinctively relaxes just slightly—until the wild pounding of your heart reminds you that nothing about this is safe. Your shoulders slump forward as your heart slams against your ribs, a violent pulse that echoes in your ears.

“Sorry, Krusty,” Luke’s voice rumbles behind you, low and dangerous. It’s steady, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it—like a storm just beneath the surface, ready to break. “I need to borrow her for a minute.”

His hand grips your wrist, strong and unyielding, grounding you as he pulls you away from the clown. The strength in his stride leaves no room for argument, his muscles tense, the tension in his posture radiating as though he's preparing for something worse.

The clown makes no move to stop you, but the atmosphere feels thick with some unspoken tension, something that hovers in the air like a storm cloud.

“I fucking hate clowns,” Luke mutters under his breath, the words seething with disdain. His grip doesn’t ease, though, his fingers tightening around your wrist like he’s afraid of something unseen. His body stays taut, rigid beside you, his every movement filled with purpose, like he's ready to face something darker at any moment.

Instead of heading toward the group, he veers sharply, pulling you into the shadows behind the haunted house, the darkness swallowing you both whole. The noise from the carnival fades away as the chill night air wraps around you like a suffocating blanket. Every step Luke takes seems deliberate, his pace unbroken, his eyes scanning the surroundings as though expecting danger from every corner.

Your pulse still races, but with Luke’s presence, the overwhelming feeling of dread begins to shift—lessen, though not entirely gone.

“What is going on with you and Ethan?” Luke’s voice is sharp, his words cutting through the air like a knife. His grip tightens around your wrist, and his fingers flex, as though he's unsure whether to let go or hold on tighter. The tension in his muscles is palpable, like he’s trying to control something that’s about to explode. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he releases you, his fingers slipping away from your skin with a lingering heat.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, genuinely confused. Your eyes flick over Luke’s face, searching for any sign of what’s going on behind that stormy expression. But when your gazes lock, you see it—a flicker of something in his eyes, something that mirrors the same panic you felt earlier when the clown had his hands on you.

“Are you kidding?” Luke’s frustration spills out in a sharp breath as his hand rakes through his hair. His movements are erratic, the tension in his body evident. “He’s been all over you today. The whispering, the hand-holding—don’t even get me started on that stupid little kiss.” His voice grows louder, filled with an anger that’s laced with something deeper. A long groan escapes him, his jaw tightening as he steps toward you, closing the distance with an unsettling intensity. His height towers over you, casting a shadow that presses down on your chest. “I know how he feels about you.” The words are whispered, but they hit you like a punch to the gut. Your eyes widen, brows shooting up in surprise.

“What are you talking about? Ethan doesn’t hav—” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. Something in Luke’s gaze is making the room feel smaller, more suffocating, and your mind races for answers. Finally, you ask, “What does it matter to you anyway?”

Luke’s breath comes out in a sharp exhale, the sound of frustration thick in the air as his hand drags down his face. He’s struggling, torn between something he wants to say and the fear that’s clearly eating at him. “It matters because I thought we were—because I thought you—” His words falter, and for a brief moment, his eyes lock onto yours with a depth that feels like it’s trying to peel something open inside you. His voice softens, barely above a whisper. “I need you to tell me the truth.”

You take a small step back, your pulse pounding in your ears. The space between you feels charged, like the calm before a storm. Luke doesn’t back down. Instead, he steps forward again, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“This is life or death,” he mutters, his voice low, his desperation palpable. The words feel like they weigh a ton as he closes the gap between you, his forehead gently pressing against yours, the heat of his skin radiating against yours. His breath is shaky, and his words slip out like a fragile plea. “Are you dating Ethan?”

“No,” you reply, your voice small, unsure.

“Are you interested in Ethan?” His words hang heavy in the air, sharp and demanding, but you feel a strange sense of relief as the truth settles in.

“No,” you answer again, your voice firmer this time.

“Are you interested in me?” The question is barely audible now, his voice almost a whisper. His fingers find yours, and your breath catches at the soft brush of his skin against yours. His hands twine with yours, his thumbs gently stroking over the backs of your hands. The tension in his body is so tight you can feel it vibrating, a low hum that echoes in your chest. He’s waiting—waiting for you to say the words, to break the silence that feels like it could swallow you whole.

“Mhm.” It’s not much, but it’s enough to set something in motion.

Luke’s face twists into a mix of frustration and hope, his brows furrowing as if the words he’s about to hear might be the thing that makes or breaks him. “I need you to say it out loud before I combust,” he growls, his voice strained as he looks down at you, his gaze filled with intensity. “Please.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as you search his eyes, the heat of his palms pressing against your skin grounding you in this moment. “I like you, Luke,” you whisper, the words slipping from your mouth before you can stop them. “I like you a lot.”

A shuddered exhale leaves him, like a weight lifting off his chest, and for a moment, everything goes still. His body relaxes, and a slow, soft smile tugs at his lips, the tension that had been consuming him finally easing.

“Thank you, Lord.” The words come out with a shaky laugh, and he lifts your joined hands, pressing a series of gentle, lingering kisses to each of your knuckles, the softness of his lips sending a warmth spreading through your chest. Then, he cradles your face in his hands, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he leans in. His breath is soft against your skin, and for a moment, you feel like the world has disappeared, leaving just the two of you in this fragile bubble.

Just as his lips begin to inch closer, Ethan’s voice slices through the air, sharp and cutting.

“Are you guys coming or not?” His voice is teasing, but there��s an underlying coldness to it as his head pops around the corner, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, though, and when his gaze flicks over you, his eyes rake over your form before landing on Luke’s hands cupping your cheek.

The tension in the air shifts, and Ethan’s smirk falters, his gaze locking with yours. “Told you so,” he says, his voice oozing with a mix of smugness and something darker beneath the surface.

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