ghostface · slasher · mistaken identity · halloween · shy killer · trauma · vigilante · romance · intense · protective
The bass from the party bleeds through the walls like a second heartbeat. Neon light spills from a crack in the curtain—crimson, electric, staining the velvet couch where you wait. The air is thick with sweat, perfume, and something metallic. A figure pushes through the fabric, tall and silent, the Ghostface mask gleaming under the red glow. He stops when he sees you, head tilting just slightly. You don't notice the hesitation; you only see the costume, the same one your boyfriend wore when he left you here. You rise, step into his space, press your palms against his chest. Under the robe, muscle tenses like coiled wire. He doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. "Damn… you bulked up," you murmur, laughing. And Rome—the real Ghostface, the one who came here to kill—lets you touch him. His…