Act 5. Next Year


The two split the bags, three and three. They made their way together to the local park and sat down on top of the chipping red picnic table, watching the quiet streets.

Finch sighed, he felt as though he still owed Devil Lad an apology for acting so childish before.

"Listen, I really am sorry for earlier." He said, staring down at his shoes, "It's just that, well… you're my last real friend, you know? I'm just worried that soon you won't have a reason to keep coming back, and I'll lose the last thing that matters in my life."

Finch immediately felt himself choke. A rush of embarrassment flooded him as he realized how pathetic that sounded. Devil Lad sat silently, making it worse and worse as the seconds dragged on. Finch could only imagine the way Devil Lad must feel now. Disgusted, embarrassed, awkward? Maybe this stupid slip up would be the reason he never came back.

Finch's imagination was about to suffocate him when, finally, the other boy turned to him and spoke,

"Finch, if I could, I would come around more often, believe me." He was almost whispering, but suddenly his voice grew more excited and loud, "But I come around every year because of you, man. I come around 'cause every year you always get me into some weird shit! Even if you didn't, even if we just sat around and waited out the night, Halloween wouldn't be the same without you. That's why I always come back, Finch, because you're my friend."

Finch felt his face flush. He didn't look over at Devil Lad, he couldn't, even if his expressions were hidden by his mask. He felt a strange bashfulness he regularly never suffered from. He hadn't expected such an honest reply. Finch felt the satisfaction of validation, something he didn't know he even wanted, but was happy to receive. He felt his fondness for the other boy grow, as if hearing that his presence was wanted and not just tradition or pity allowed Finch to really feel. His anxieties melted away, and he could enjoy this night in its entirety for the first time in a long time.

Devil Lad put a cold hand on Finch's shoulder, seemingly sensing that Finch didn't have words for the moment.

"Trust me, man, I know it sucks- but at least we'll always have Halloween."

"Yeah…Halloween." Finch said, thinking back on years of mischief, the memories surfacing as a cascade of images in his mind, the pictures as vivid as the moment they happened.

Sticking razor blades into ripe red apples, the taste of sticky, sugary candy, the taste of warm crimson blood. Pig Pig's endearing stupidity and Mr. Kitty's constant chase for the town's prized female, sarcasm dripping from every word he said in between. Memories of taking his little sister out, and always losing her, just to find out later she had always been playing a major role in the night's drama. And then, thoughts of Devil Lad, the brief moments alone together where Finch felt like he was with the one person he could relax around, where he felt like he could be himself. Every chaos crazed memory sweeter than the last. Even the ones that seemed like hell at the time were looked back on now tenderly.

Finch closed his eyes, trying to hold on to the moment at hand, preserving it so he could think back on this as a fond memory too. When it came right down to it, he may never find out who Devil Lad really was, where he was from or even what he may look like, but Finch figured it didn't matter as long as they could spend at least one night together, as long as they could keep creating memories together.

Finch felt the morning sun warm his exposed arms, chasing away the chill of the last October night. He opened his eyes and Devil Lad was gone, Finch's shoulder still cold where his hand had been. He hadn't felt him remove his hand or hear him leave, he was just gone into thin air again, leaving Finch alone on the table as the sun crept upwards in the sky, rising above the little homes and trees in the distance.

He smiled, removing the mask for the first time all night, revealing green eyes and a face full of freckles.

"Until next year." He whispered to no one but himself.