Halloween is the most cursed yet gifting day he knows : he's alright with that

A new person, a new light, a new path

Halloween. He didn't know what about it made him shiver and recoil in disgust, or sit unmoving or breaking down. Maybe because he lost family members on the wretched day, maybe it reminds him of past boyfriends that haunt his dreams, the ghost of their touch leaving him longing yet he never wants them. Maybe it's the tacky costumes and cheap confectionary. 

Or maybe he just feels alone.

There was a time when he and his family would dress up in overly conspicuous outfits and knock on the doors of complete strangers. Then, with the sweets collected over around an hour or two, drop them into pristine white dishes, one for each of them and make coffee. Pumpkin spice usually. Or they would have pumpkin soup with the guts of their carved jack-o-lanterns then devour the candy gathered whilst watching a film. 

He can't do that anymore.

In present days, he sits and watches films, but none of the warmth or joy is there. He isn't wearing a musical cosplay or covered in a ridiculous amount of make-up. The sweets aren't forged from hours of walking and knocking. He doesn't eat anything with gourd themed. Even the familiar taste of homemade pumpkin spice tastes bitter. He isn't surrounded by people, only walls that stare at him blankly, unmoving and cold as the cold of winter begins to rear it's ugly head far to soon for his liking anymore. It just brings more memories of people no longer present in his life.

He sits in the dark, alone and broken.

The house isn't covered in orange and red and black. It's just, plain. No artificial cobwebs with fake spiders seemingly weaving them, no plastic hands reaching up akin to that in an apocalyptic film, where they come out of the ground, grabbing the ankles of passers by and dragging them to the depths of death and hell.

He doesn't care.

When the doorbell rings he doesn't shift. He doesn't know why it echoes through the rooms anyway. His house isn't decorated, there is no light save the weak glare of the Tv screen and there is a sign clearly stating he had "run out of sweets" which had been out since the start of the night. It rings again. Then a third time. Then a fourth. 

He gives in.

As the door opens he is met my a boy, shy and timid. Apparently he's the new neighbour. The rumours of a new addition to the estate had circled for months and here he is. The male isn't in a costume, hiding himself for the one night of the year people see it as normal. Honestly, he looks just as lost as he did.

Somehow, he lets him in.

They talk for hours. Laughing and becoming comfortable with one another, watching films and making cupcakes to pass the time. Something about the stranger was charming. He was easy to talk to, not afraid to express himself or his opinion. Yet he describes himself as closed off and shy. That wasn't exactly a lie per-say, more a surface concept for those unfortunate enough to not crack the shell, let the insides run free. He had scary stories and secrets that were intrusted in him the first time they met.

He was warm for the first time in years.

Well into the night, a small way through another film, he had lost count after 5, the man introduced himself as Alex. It was only fair the latter, and host, introduced himself too. At the utterance of his own name, Alex was quick to compliment it. Kye. It was an abbreviation for Kyle but he honestly preferred it.

His world brightens.

They continue to watch and talk and snack. Somehow they gravitated towards each other. Maybe for warmth. Maybe for company. Maybe because both of their stories are tragic and ended in loneliness. Yet maybe not. Maybe that was only the first few chapters. As now they met each other, a door to new beginnings opened so wide its hinges might break. Maybe they clicked so easily because they are so alike yet different. A perfect balance of each other.

He feels cared for.

The night doesn't end until the sky is a space blue and the streets are quiet, the only light being an ironically full moon and street lamps. They stand in the frigid breeze for a time, admiring the garnishing on houses. For something so simple it never failed to make one part of his heart keen for his house to be adorned in similar ornaments. Yet he feels like it's a crime without his family. So he will forever leave his house bare on special occasions, drown in his sorrow and let the embrace of isolation hold him tight.

He can't see the end of the tunnel, maybe he's already out of it.

Alex and himself trade numbers, schedules, make plans for when they next meet because there isn't an "if" only a "when". Not for the pure reason they live next to each other, they were bound to cross paths, but because they enjoy the others company, because tonight, when the sorrow of loss and stress of moving allowed them a break, to incline to one another. He doesn't believe in fate, but he does credit that you are just bound to meet some people, Alex is one of them.

The feeling of outcast lifts from his shoulders.

Maybe he would find love again.

Maybe happiness was around the corner.

Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel was Alex, and maybe he had already left into the light.

Maybe his world was flooded with rain. Regret and grief dancing a mocking tango with despondency to saturate his world, painting it a boring grey. 

Maybe with the entrance of a new person, a saviour, a friend, that tango, sharp and inflicting, morphs into an elegant waltz, happiness and hope turning with elegance as it flips his world, his outlook, his emotions on their head.

Maybe, just maybe, as he looks to the future, aims for higher, tries to become a person rather than a walking zombie that had permanent tear tracks on it's cheeks.

Maybe, the people and house he used to call home can be replaced, revamped and turned into something new, something he could call home again.

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Why do I keep making more work for myself? Oh well another original work!