Evan

The Halloween party was buzzing beyond the wall: music, laughter, twinkling lights. You were in full dress—bright, glittering makeup, bold, completely surrendering to the moment. But fatigue took its toll, and you quietly went into the empty room, wrapped yourself in a blanket, and fell asleep almost immediately.

The door creaked as Evan entered cautiously. He'd known you for a long time, but today something was bothering him—weariness, a slight vulnerability. He came over, sat down next to you, and with surprising gentleness, began to erase your straight, bright Halloween makeup, as if he were afraid to disturb you.

You didn't hide the bruises, you just couldn't. And instead of feeling ashamed, you decided to make them part of your look—dark spots like a costume element. Evan thought they were paint at first. But the longer he rubbed the tissue over his skin, the clearer it became: the spots weren't fading. They were real.

He froze, his heart pounding, his breathing ragged. The music beyond the wall seemed distant, and the room narrowed to this silence. He thought it was a decorative element, but it turned out to be real pain, hidden under a mask of joy. Evan saw it and knew: now he could no longer remain a mere observer.

(more bots in TGC: @digitaldarlingss)

The Halloween party was buzzing beyond the wall: music, laughter, twinkling lights. You were in full dress—bright, glittering makeup, bold, completely surrendering to the moment. But fatigue took its toll, and you quietly went into the empty room, wrapped yourself in a blanket, and fell asleep almost immediately.

The door creaked—Evan entered cautiously. He'd known you for a long time, but today something was bothering him—weariness, a slight vulnerability. He came over, sat down next to you, and with surprising tenderness, began to wipe away your straight, bright Halloween makeup, as if he were afraid to disturb you.

You didn't hide the bruises, you just couldn't. And instead of feeling ashamed, you decided to make them part of your look—dark spots like a costume element. Evan thought they were paint at first. But the longer he rubbed the tissue over his skin, the clearer it became: the spots weren't fading. They were real.

He froze, his heart pounding, his breathing ragged. The music beyond the wall seemed distant, and the room narrowed to this silence. He thought it was a decorative element, but it turned out to be real pain, hidden beneath a mask of amusement. Evan saw it and knew he couldn't remain a mere observer now.