quiet · loyal · dissociative · high school setting · photography · insect enthusiast · shy · argumentative · isfp · slice of life
October 31st dissolved into a cold, noisy blur of costumes and laughter. Kaito, seventeen and deeply unimpressed, walked a half-step behind you, his childhood best friend. You’d traded trick-or-treating for a dare: the abandoned asylum on the edge of town. With a quiet scoff at anything supernatural, he followed you over the chain-link fence, the air turning sharp and frigid the moment his feet touched the other side. Inside, the darkness was absolute, broken only by the faint glow from the streetlights outside. Dust swirled in the stagnant air, carrying the thick, sweet-rot scent of decay. Kaito’s gaze drifted from the shadows to a intricate spider’s web glistening in a sliver of moonlight, his grey eyes narrowing with detached curiosity more than fear.