AU — Ghostface After Closing Hours

The café had finally closed for the night, and I was waiting outside for Zenka to finish his shift. The streets were quieter than usual, illuminated by the occasional streetlamp that flickered above the empty pavement.

I checked my phone. Nothing.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed someone standing a little way down the street.

A tall figure.

Black robes. A pale, elongated mask. A face I recognized from every horror movie that had ever made me regret watching horror movies before bed.

Ghostface.

I stopped walking.

...Oh.

The figure tilted his head.

I stared at him.

He took one slow step toward me.

I took one step back.

He took another.

"Are you serious right now?" I muttered under my breath, glancing around the deserted street for any sign of another human being.

Nothing.

Just me, the streetlights, and whatever unfortunate creature had decided that terrorizing innocent people after midnight was a productive use of his time.

Then he started walking faster.

"OH, HELL NO!"

I turned and hurried away, hearing footsteps following behind me. The figure made a strange, exaggerated movement with his arms, as if he were putting on a performance specifically for an audience of one.

Unfortunately for him, I was a rather difficult audience to impress.

Was I startled? Absolutely.

Was I about to collapse from fear?

Not particularly.

But the moment I heard those footsteps getting closer, an idea quietly settled into my mind.

I stopped.

Slowly, I turned around.

Ghostface stood a few feet away, his masked face staring down at me.

I let my shoulders tremble. My eyes widened, and I drew in a shaky breath.

"P-please," I whispered, making my voice as small as possible. "Don't come any closer."

The figure froze.

Oh?

That was interesting.

I took another unsteady step backward, blinking rapidly until my eyes became suspiciously watery.

"Please, I just want to go home..."

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Ghostface lifted both hands, apparently delighted with himself, and made another attempt to scare me.

I let out a startled squeak.

He practically doubled over laughing beneath the mask.

Oh, you're enjoying this?

How lovely.

I would remember that.

"Okay, okay!" I cried, turning away and covering my face. "I've learned my lesson! I'm never watching horror movies again!"

A muffled laugh escaped him.

I could practically feel the smugness radiating from beneath that ridiculous mask.

Then he finally seemed to take pity on me.

"Hey, hey. It's me."

I heard the rustle of fabric before the mask was lifted.

And there he was.

Zenka.

Standing in front of me with his hair slightly messy, his cheeks raised in the most infuriating grin I had ever witnessed.

For three whole seconds, I stared at him.

He stared back.

Then his grin widened.

"Got you."

SMACK!

I hit his arm.

"ZENKA!"

"OW!" He immediately clutched his arm, stumbling backward in exaggerated agony. "WHY DID YOU HIT ME?!"

"YOU SCARED ME!"

"THAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING?!"

He burst out laughing.

I could not believe him. I genuinely could not believe him.

This was the same person I had been waiting for outside his café, expecting a perfectly ordinary walk home. Instead, he had apparently decided to audition for the role of my sleep paralysis demon.

I smacked his arm again.

"You're so mean!"

"Okay, okay!" He raised his hands in surrender, still grinning. "I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not!"

"...I'm a little sorry."

"ZENKA!"

He laughed harder.

And that was when I finally let him see the tears gathering in my eyes.

His laughter faded almost immediately.

"Wait." His expression changed. "Are you actually crying?"

I sniffled, looking away.

"Maybe."

"Oh, no. Hey, hey, I'm sorry." He stepped closer, suddenly looking much less pleased with himself. "I didn't think you'd be that scared."

I rubbed at the corner of my eye.

"You made me feel scared..."

His expression crumpled with guilt.

"Aw, come on." His voice softened. "I'm really sorry. I won't do it again, okay?"

I looked at him for a moment before reaching forward and wrapping my arms around him.

He went quiet.

Then his arms came around me, holding me carefully as he rested his chin against the top of my head.

"There we go," he murmured. "I'm sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you."

I buried my face against his shoulder.

"Mhm."

He rubbed my back, apparently convinced that the situation had been successfully resolved.

What a sweet, considerate boy.

What an absolute fool.

Because while Zenka was busy apologizing, I was already making a mental note of every detail of tonight's little performance.

The mask.

The timing.

The ridiculous way he had laughed at his own joke.

Oh, I was going to remember all of it.

And I was going to make sure he remembered it, too.

"Zenka?"

"Hm?"

"Can you take me home?"

"Of course." He pulled back just enough to look at me. "I'll walk you home. And I'll stay with you until you feel better."

I gave him a small, grateful smile.

"Thank you."

He smiled back, visibly relieved, and reached for my hand.

I took it.

Of course I did.

After all, I was still a little shaken. I needed someone to walk me home, didn't I?

And who better than the very person who had caused all this trouble?

As we walked beneath the streetlights, Zenka kept glancing at me, occasionally asking if I was okay. Each time, I assured him that I was.

Each time, he looked a little more relieved.

I squeezed his hand.

"Zenka?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you, right?"

He looked at me, surprised by the sudden question, before smiling.

"Of course."

"Good."

I turned my face away before he could see my smile growing.

Because, dear Zenka, you might have won tonight's little horror show.

But the next time you heard mysterious footsteps behind you, or spotted a suspicious figure waiting outside your café after closing hours

Well.

I hoped you would remember how much fun you had tonight.

Because I was going to make sure your turn came soon.

And unlike him, I was already planning my costume.