“Bull.”

Jongdae stared me down across the coffee table, eyeing me with those almond eyes of his, his posture not flinching in the slightest. His poker face, I have to admit, was quite good. Really good, in fact. I almost would have thought I made the wrong assumption regarding the composition of the hand of three cards he held in five relaxed fingers. As though he had nothing to worry about.

As though Minseok’s – supposed – two queens were laid face down onto the table in front of the four of us: Minseok, Sehun, Jongdae himself, and I. I wasn’t about to question the Lamb’s declaration, seeing as I had not a single queen in my hand. But, I had kings galore. Three, to be exact. And what was that? The Troll, Kim Jongdae, just proclaimed he laid down two.

Unless a deck of standard cards has a fifth king I don’t know about, I had caught him in his lie.

So, “really good” pokerface or not, I anticipated with high expectations the look he’d give me as he’d reach out and grab ahold of that large stack of cards in the center of the table, not a single one of us calling anyone out the entire round until right at this very moment as I cocked a challenging eyebrow at him.

Sitting in a less than ladylike position, one of my legs crossed in front of me and the other bended at the knee, giving me a place to lay my hand as I sat on the heated wooden floor of my Grandparent’s house, I smiled wide, proud, and arrogant like an old gambler who had lucked out in his hand for once – because, honestly, I was getting sick and tired of being the one the others called “bull” on.

That’s the name of the game we’re playing; a game Yongguk picked up on his trip to the States awhile back. He wouldn’t give me the details of the trip itself but, let’s face it, I could care less.

All I know is that I love it.

Don’t know what the card game of “Bull” is?

The internet exists, you know. Google it. Ask Jeeves about it. Bing it. Naver probably won’t be able to help much, but it’d give you a better explanation than I would be able to; as we all know I have a tendency to bend the truth when it suits me. In other words, I get lazy. You get lazy. We all get lazy.

Google people who are lazy. Millions upon billions of results. You might just find yourself there too in that long list of search results. Just goes to show you how similar we are to others, even if we think we’re the most special snowflake to fall on Christmas morning.

Speaking of special snowflakes and rather melancholic thoughts, Jongdae’s expression fully lived up to my preset expectations. It was all there. Just the slightest of twitches in an otherwise flawless smile, a set of white teeth shining as he bit down on any and all words, silently reaching out with his hand palm down before smacking it down onto the large pile of cards, pulling it towards himself, the eerie sound of paper sliding against wood never more pleasing to my ears.

As he got a look at all the cards we had laid down before he was caught in his lie, the look of utter rage that flashed red in his eyes was even more hilarious, “You’re all a bunch of lying fu—“

“Sora.”

I looked up from the currently seething Jongdae to the person, or rather, the entity, who called my name: none other than the lovely Dokkaebi, Yoo Youngjae.

“We need more tomato sauce for the brain splatter display.” He announced to me from the entrance of the living room, ignoring the fact that he just interrupted quite the riveting display of anger on Jongdae’s part – though he was likely to ignore everything and anything that didn’t concern him.

Not that I hate that. I find it quite charming that he keeps his nose in his own business. Though, I must admit, it’s not enough to make him rise from his position as my second favorite. 

“There should be some left in the fridge. Behind the milk.” I waved him off, to which he waved back before leaving to go poke his nose into the refrigerator instead. Though I couldn’t tell if that was his way mocking it or if he was simply mirroring my gesture. Though, perhaps the latter is a form of mocking as well.

A few seconds of silence went by as his appearance sunk in. Only a few before Minseok asked the most obvious of obvious questions – something I’ve learned he has the tendency to do over the past week we’ve, plus Sehun and Jongdae, spent hanging out together after the classes at our university have come to an end for the day.

Did I forget to mention?

University started up again awhile back.

“There’s a skeleton in your house.” Minseok voiced to me, pointing towards the entrance of the living room with an unsure forefinger and a furrowed brow, “Is that normal, or am I missing something?”

Did I forget to mention something else? Afterall, I completely neglected to mention exactly what Youngjae was wearing as he sauntered into my grandparent’s house just moments ago. What was his “costume” exactly? And, I aptly call it thus.

Youngjae was wearing a full body skeleton suit, mask and all.

Quite comical when seen so out of place in the middle of a well-lit living room.

Still quite odd and quite questionable to witness, no matter the amount of comic relief such a costume had.

I laid down my hand, keeping my cards out of view of the others, and raised my other hand to my mouth to yell in the direction of the kitchen, “Don’t worry, he’s just an idiot!”

Minseok didn’t buy it, eyeing me suspiciously as he asked another curious question of, “Why did you scream that so loudly?”

I shrugged ignorantly, “No particular reason.”

And just then, Mr. Jae Skellington went walking past the entrance of the living room again, a jar of tomato sauce in one hand, a thumps up in the other that showed he appreciated my words.

Words that, if you haven’t figured it out by now, were said for Youngjae and directed towards Minseok.

“See you in ten.” Youngjae didn’t fail to remind me of my previous engagements before he walked out of view and the front door open and shut behind him. And while many would treat that as a friendly parting gesture, I saw it as his own way of telling me to hurry up and get over to Ms. Kim’s or I’d be late for the beginning of all the fun.

Looking to the clock and seeing that I did indeed only have ten minutes or so to be over there, I stood up from the coffee table, slapping my hand of cards down onto the surface, “Since it’s already obvious that Jongdae’s lost this round,” a small sound of protest came from him in response that went thoroughly ignored once more, “what do you all say to attending a small party?”

Leaving out the fact that I already made the arrangements for them to attend as well.

I don’t want to sound cocky or anything by making it seem like I already know they’ll say, “Yes,” as Minseok did then, standing up along with me. Jongdae casted a murderous look at his hand, which mirrored what a regular deck of playing cards would consist of minus ten or so cards, gave in as well, pushing his loss into the middle of the table with the intent to forget it ever happened. 

“Sounds good to me,” Sehun, the last one to agree, slammed his hand of cards down into the middle of the table, mixing it with Jongdae’s monster of a pile. Post haste, he stood up and made his way to the front door to put on his shoes.

You must be asking yourself how Sehun kept quiet all this time, right? Considering he’s a crybaby at almost all times of the day, it must have struck you as odd, right? Well, if his above statement doesn’t already make it clear, after Jongdae’s kings was to come Sehun’s ace. And we all knew he had a five, an eight, and a ten lined up in his hand.

Not because we’re smart enough to count cards.

Rather, because we’re smart enough to cheat when given the opportunity.

Sehun, unknowingly, has a habit of flashing his hand on multiple occasions. A habit that went unmentioned by all of us both that day and for the many years to come.

Cobwebs sprawled out from every nook and cranny, with smoke fed in by an unidentified source in an unknown location, the entire floor was akin to the murky surface of a smoky pond in the middle of the everglades. Creepy music box tunes floated through the air as though softly rasping on the door of your very own cabin in the woods.

With the lights off, spotlights of white, orange, and gray shone upon gruesome displays of brain like substances smeared against different sections of the wall, blood and all, and rotting body parts here and there that, fortunately, didn’t smell as bad as I thought they would.

All of this and more covered the entirety of the first floor of Ms. Kim’s lovely abode – including the bathroom. Thus effectively taking the word “lovely” and twisting it into something so unrecognizable and convoluted that the only word that could be used to describe it is the root word itself.

“It looks lovely in here.” I commented, stepping over a sawn off leg before sauntering into the living room.

“Lovely is certainly one way of putting it.” Jongdae nodded, seemingly satisfied with the aesthetics of the house.

Note: No body parts were harmed in the making of this Halloween party.

“Happy Halloween!”

The Gumiho, Kim Himchan, was the first to greet us upon our entry, cackling as his head of teased and frizzed hair twisted this way and that, his lone figure being the only one that stood in the middle of the room. Retching and writhing his body, he gave a large grin, lips spreading from one ear to the next, bloody holes lining them where thread had burst, seams had come undone, and all manner of that which had been attempted to keep his mouth shut failed. 

He looked – and sounded, though he always does – certifiably insane, I must admit.

The straight jacket, sullied with dried blood and grim, which kept his arms back helped in certifying his claim on insanity.

“Creepy.” Minseok mused as he stepped past me, inspecting Himchan by walking around said spirit in a slow, contemplative circle. “Really creepy.”

A ed noise of agreement sounded from behind Jongdae, causing his eyes to widen and his body to lurch forward as though he’d jump out of his own skin right then and there. He cursed loudly as he turned around, finding a tall figure with their hair smoothed back, revealing a set of stitches that ran from one temple to the next, disappearing along a chalky black hairline. 

Two crooked screw bolts stuck out of either side of the neck which held up an expressionless head, a torn white shirt hung off of the broad shoulders that spread out on either side, black trousers in the same condition revealed lightly green tinted skin. In other words, the Xiezhi, Zelo, was dressed up as Frankenstein.

And even though I had known what he’d be beforehand, I must admit I was surprised with how well it suited him.

“Looking good, Zelo.” I gave him a good-natured pat on the shoulder, to which he only grumbled lowly again. I see he’s taking his role today very seriously. That earned him another pat on his other shoulder, because he was being a good boy about cooperating with all of this, unlike a certain someone.

Speaking of whom, he chose now to enter the room stage left from the kitchen, his complaints regarding the same topic as usual.

“Hey, Sora."

Jung Daehyun, the Tokebi, strutted into the living room, chains that hung from his wrists eroding away, rusted to the core, hair a disheveled mess, clothes consisting of long jeans shredded at random intervals and a black tank top whose condition was very much the same, dirt and grime covering his arms, neck, and face in patches – as though he had just rolled through the middle of a forest and loved every second of it.

He pointed at his teeth, opening his mouth right in front of my face, without the least bit of dignity, and said, “I can’t eat with these things in.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?” I questioned, tilting my head to get a better look at the dreadfully surreal look of his elongated canines that fit in so well with the rest of his teeth I had to struggle to remember if they didn’t always look like that.

Maybe the Tokebi, in another life, really was a werewolf.

He looked on at me incredulously, “What do you think?”

Of course I knew what he wanted. But, I wasn’t going to spend the better half of my time at this party fulfilling his request of: “Feed me.” He’d have to manage on his own as I’m not going to smash up the deviled eggs or shred up the human flesh kabobs – which were looking more and more appetizing by the second spread out on the coffee table behind the Gumiho – when I could very well be dining on both those and the bloody eyes desert tray.

Thankfully, someone else was there to take up the burden. Something he should have been doing for a long while now considering the fact that the two were practically two peas in a pod separated at birth. Okay, I know that doesn’t make sense. But, all I’m saying is that it’s about damn time the Dokkaebi took responsibility for his baby pup of a best friend.

A bony hand curled around Daehyun’s neck, pulling him away from me, the owner of whom spoke in a muffled voice due to his mask still remaining tightly pulled over his head, “I’ll take care of him. All of you need to change.” Youngjae clamped a hand down onto Daehyun’s mouth and dragged him away before he could protest.

“What does he mean by ‘all of you’?” Sehun eyed me, eternally suspicious of my grandfather’s young friends. And, I suppose, my own odd friends as well. That’s right, I admit it. No point in trying to deny it. I like them and they, sort of, like me. So, we’re friends. No, I haven’t consulted them regarding the label, but I rather not make it a bigger issue than it is – something I’m sure Mr. Demon would have a field day with.

I can imagine him now.

What’s that? We’re friends, Sora? Well, aren’t you simply darling?

“Well, aren’t all of you humans simply darling?”

Speak of him and he shall appear. I’m starting to believe more and more in that statement as time goes on.

Mr. Demon, Bang Yongguk, was here. Or, more accurately, he was behind Sehun. Right beside his right ear is where he whispered that question of his in a sultry tone. Which, understandably, caused Sehun to lash out as he had in the past.

“! Where the hell did you come from?”

Donning a black suit and tie with bone like horns that protruded from his forehead, he grinned maniacally. I’d say his second favorite thing to do in the world is scare Sehun. Second to annoying me, of course.

“Don’t you know? I live for scaring you,” Mr. Demon responded, raising his thick, black dyed eyebrows; a color that matched his hair that was quaffed so much it seemed inhuman for anyone’s hair to be able to do that.

Which, I suppose, sounds about right, considering he’s anything but human. Leaving his hair out of this, and the fact that it was a close second to something I wanted to touch right after the Gumiho’s tails, he really needs to stop with the unintentional mindreading.

“Also, my name isn’t or any variation of the term.”

Sehun waited in silence, glaring all the while.

Waiting and waiting and waiting for more words that didn’t come.

He was being teased again, and I have to admit it was a sight I couldn’t help but enjoy watching. Just as Jongdae and Minseok did, I remained quiet, the three of us waiting for something ourselves.

And it didn’t take long to get it.

“Well, what’s your name then?” Sehun demanded, impatient with the less appropriate person, as it is well known by now that the thing Yongguk has the most of is patience – especially when it comes to putting someone else in their place with unfair and biased mind games.

Of course Sehun forgets now of all times that I’ve said Yongguk’s name in front of him at least thirty times by now. Either that or he’s been selectively choosing to forget the name of the person he seems to loathe with all of his being.

Yongguk tilted his head, looking more and more insane than Himchan who had set out to play the role of an insane man himself as he smiled so proudly and so broadly he could have been this year’s Halloween jack-o-lantern, “Now that’s not a nice way to ask, now is it?”

Before Sehun could curse up a storm and set a bad name for me in the neighborhood for the umpteenth time, I, with the help of Jongdae and Minseok was able to pull him away from the situation and whisk him up the stairs. A small, haired girl dressed up as Dorothy ran by us on the way up, a small boy dressed in brown shirts, pants, shoes, and a matching tail and dog ear headband following closely behind.

The Haechi, Jongup, chased after them, having a touch time in his period costume of a zombie scholar of the Joseon dynasty. Something about ice cream was yelled between them. Something about red shoe wishes for caramel chocolate. Something about how Dara, the Wicked Witch of the West, would have Jongup’s pretty toes for dinner if he didn’t take them down the concrete slab road for sweets later.

Many somethings continued to go on downstairs; though what I heard the most of as I changed into my costume for the night was laughter.

I pointed my index finger at Minseok, “Lacking courage,” I dragged my finger towards Jongdae, “Lacking a heart,” and last, but not least, my finger came to rest on a pouting Sehun, “and lacking a brain.”

In order of the description I gave above, the costumes of Minseok, Jongdae, and Sehun were was follows: a heavy lion onesie, completely with a fur mane, round ears, and a long tail; a tin jumper which came with a box spray painted metallic silver that went over the upper body of the Troll and a triangular tin can hollowed out to fit atop his head; and a collared, plaid shirt coupled with ripped, blue jeans and a wide-rimmed sun hat, with two rosy red circles drawn upon less than amused cheeks and straws poking out this way and that.

All very simple in retrospect. All very childish in appearance. All in order to match the little girl, Dorothy, and her brother, Toto, who now looked up at the three in wonder.

“Dorothy, meet your yellow-brick road companions!” I announced much more heartily than they felt at the current point in time.

“They look cute.” The little girl said in reply, though I think she was talking to herself when she said that and it merely came out on reflex – something she didn’t seem to mind in the least.

“Don’t they?” I teased further, leaning down to her level to smile so wide it hurt, my amusement rising to new heights. My enjoyment of the situation, however, only caused Sehun to raise an eyebrow as he crossed his straw arms against his chest and attempted to make me feel my own share of embarrassment.

Which, let’s be honest, shall we?

I don’t get embarrassed.

“And what are you supposed to be?” Sehun waited for my answer, as though it weren’t obvious, scanning my eighteenth century European wear clad body. Buttons ran down the front side of my twin tail, golden thread embroidered, maroon jacket, an off-white ascot puffed out from my neck, stockings of the same color ran up to my knees where black cuffed pants began. All topped off with pointed black shoes, an eyepatch, and a tricorn leather hat with two long white feathers sticking out from one side.

Let me ask you first.

What do you think I am?

No guesses?

You have no idea?

Well let me spell it out for you with the repeating of my boisterous next words.

“Captain Sore Eye is at the helm of this ship and she orders all to have fun and be merry!” I declared, voice booming, pointing outwards at nothing, one foot propped up on top of a nightstand by the living room couch – sorry, Ms. Kim. They didn’t need much more instruction than that, the Lion and the Tin Man practically skipping as they proceeded to drag the pouting Scarecrow around the room, engaging in conversation with young Dorothy and her brother slash dog: Toto.

Youngjae, who was passing by, still in his skeleton costume that made me hot just looking at it, kindly answered my question regarding the whereabouts of the coordinator of the shindig, the Wicked Witch herself. Making my way over the to kitchen, I spotted Himchan trying to convince an otherwise amused Zelo to unhook his arms from his straight jacket so that he could eat – a conversation that would continue throughout the night between Himchan and many others.

I caught a glance at Minseok, the ever curious, and Jongup, who acted and spoke as though he was the one with all the answers, were hitting it off next to the werewolf Daehyun, who looked on in envy as Youngjae snuck another chopped finger pastry under his mask. I even caught sight of Yongguk and Jongdae yucking it up at the expense of Sehun’s well-fitting costume.

As I entered the kitchen, I spotted the Witch in question; wearing a long black dress whose ends spread out into thread like pieces that resembled bony hands scratching the floor in agony wherever she walked, a sagging pointy hat tipping down across her face as she focused on her task. The owner of that small frame, with doll like eyes that were so dewy they looked like glass and straight blond hair that cascaded down on either side of her face, grinned my way as she finished plating the last dish of the night: Black Widow chocolate cream puffs.

“Would you cast a curse on me if I attempted to have one before the others saw them?” And subsequently devour them whole.

She smiled widely, “Not in the otherworldly sense, no,” and then it turned crooked, her eyes narrowing into life-threatening slits that could be used as daggers to pierce through my heart if I even so much as thought about eating her masterpiece before the others were able to behold them with their unworthy eyes, “but in the literal sense? Yes. Yes, I would.”

I held my hands up in front of me innocently, deciding not to incur the wrath of the little Wicked Witch of the West, to which she merely laughed, a set of pearly whites never so seemingly happy amidst the backdrop of the grotesque. I offered to take the tray of food from her, which she trusted me with despite my earlier statement, albeit she was quite suspicious the entire while.

And, as I came back into the kitchen empty handed, the others making quick work of the desert she prepared seconds before, she was waiting for me quietly, her small hands held together in front of her gracefully, her smaller voice speaking softly, “Thank you for this, Sora. Really and truly, thank you.”

Because, as she had told me over and over the week before, I didn’t have to. I didn’t have to do this for her. To risk myself for her. To help her prepare the costumes and the recipes for the food and the decorations and all of it. I didn’t have to do any of it. And yet, I did.

And I said, “What are friends for?”

I had only known her a week, you know?

A week and yet, we were friends.

A week, and all of her final dreams and wishes came true in the form of the forms which appeared behind her, ready and waiting for the signal we had taught them, for the role they agreed to happily, because they were her friends, too. And she didn’t keep them waiting, her lips forming a warped smile as she snapped her fingers, all of lights in the house turning off at the sound, her small voice giggling in glee, “Let the fun begin.”

I smiled in the darkness as screams I was sure belonged to little Dorothy and the Scarecrow Sehun rang through the air. The peek of the Halloween party was, what Dara labeled it, “The Jump Scare Marathon.” I.E. With the help of a few lingering spirits and Dara herself, I wouldn’t be able to scream let alone say a single word tomorrow morning.

As I heard the sound of shuffling bodies, I caught onto a small phrase muttered without the least bit of courage, as per his costume, “Now I don’t mean to be the downer or anything but—“

“Then shut up now, Minseok.” Jongdae, who was much more into the entire party than he originally let on, urged him from somewhere across the room.

“But,” Minseok blatantly ignored him, gathering more and more courage by the second despite the situation. Or, perhaps, in light of the situation – no one wants to die a coward, after all. Not that he’s going to die, but he doesn’t exactly know that right now, does he? At least, not when he finishes his sentence of, “why are we celebrating Halloween in the middle of March?”

Another obvious question from the brilliant mind of Kim Minseok.

Though, I suppose somebody has to ask them, huh?

That night, as we all crashed in the living room in full Halloween gear with heavy bodies and heavier stomachs after a horror movie marathon, Dara would pass on peacefully, her only wish being that she wished to spend Halloween with a group of close friends one last time.

A week and yet, we were friends.

And, I wouldn’t argue with that label.

Not at all. 

A/N: Again, the title didn't make sense until the end. Just to clarify, this takes place around a week after the whole incident with the windows in the last chapter (as stated in the chapter, but I'm saying it again because even I forget sometimes).