---

Khanuk’s last lecture is late today. His professor — or whoever schedules these things — just had to schedule the lecture at seven in the evening. On Halloween.

But between a late lecture on Halloween and a scolding that could last just as long, he’d never choose Retnüir’s anger over boredom.

As he steps out of the classroom with forty, fifty other students, he opens up the group chat between him, li’l Laž and Retty. Despite the surrounding noise, he taps the voice message button.

“Guys, I just got out of class. I should be at Laž’s in like twenty minutes, half an hour, something like that. Could one of you order some pizza? I’m famished.”

A minute later, he receives a message back.

Retty: Go eat something first, dumbass.

Khanuk laughs and records a new voice message. “Thanks Retnüir. I knew I could count on you to feed your best friend.”

“You wish. I’m your babysitter,” is the angry response he listens to on the bus. “You better be there within twenty-five minutes.”

Exactly twenty-three minutes later, Khanuk meets up with a terribly annoyed Retnüir, who had come to the bus stop for him. He is carrying two pizzas to share between them and Laž’ar.

Khanuk takes the food off Retnüir’s hands with a grin. “Let’s head to Laž’ar’s. I wanna eat right now.”

“Sure. But you picked nothing too bad, right? Laž’ar’s only fifteen.”

“Don’t worry. I made sure even a seven-year-old would be able to sleep.”

Khanuk sees Retnüir narrow his eyes dangerously.

“…or maybe not seven. But fifteen should be fine. Promise.”

Retnüir huffs. “I doubt it.”

“It’s not like we’ll actually sleep.”

Entirely as expected, Retnüir rolls his eyes.

They reach the apartment complex where Laž’ar lives. Compared to the area where the two of them live, the building looks old and dilapidated, but they understand the circumstances. As far as they know, Laž’ar’s father is apparently married to some other woman, and Laž’ar’s mother has contact with neither him nor her family.

They started this tradition to ensure Laž’ar wouldn’t be lonely because of this, and that many would celebrate Halloween. Meanwhile, Laž’ar’s birthday was just days later, and it wasn’t certain it would be celebrated.

Only last year did they make it a film marathon, though. For the two or three years before that, Retnüir refused with the argument that Laž’ar’s too young, and they also couldn’t just whisk away a kid to go trick-and-treating with him without his mother’s permission.

They take the squeaky elevator to the floor Laž’ar lives on and then approach the door. Khanuk opts for knocking rather than ringing the doorbell. It opens, and Laž’ar smiles brightly at them both.

“Pizza!”

Khanuk laughs and is about to say something when he pauses.

Behind Laž’ar stands someone about their age, pale as death, with lips that might be a hint too purple and eyes catching no light. He’s staring at Khanuk with an empty expression.

A chill runs down his spine when Laž’ar says, “This is Çetžak. He arrived a moment before you did. You must have just missed him riding the elevator, right?”

No, they definitely had not. The elevator door had been open downstairs for them to see when they had entered the building. There was no one there.

---

For some reason, Khanuk turns a little pale, and he stares at Çetžak with a strange look. Laž’ar turns to him as well.

“Do you know each other?”

Çetžak shakes his head. “‘Tis the first time we meet like this.”

Laž’ar looks at Khanuk in confusion.

“I’m just hungry,” Khanuk squeezes out before he adds some noticeably false enthusiasm. “And Retty bought pizza! Oh, but we only have two.”

Laž’ar smiled. “That’s okay. I have some more food, actually. Besides,” he turns to Çetžak, “you don’t eat pizza, do you?”

“I do not.”

“See? No problems there!”

Khanuk wears an even odder expression, but he pushes Retnüir in through the door and makes a beeline to the kitchen with him.

Laž’ar can only ask Çetžak, “What’s that about?”

Çetžak shakes his head, indicating he doesn’t know.

Laž’ar closes the distance, peering up at him with a mischievous smile. “How could you not know something like this? You’re the reason they seem to avoid me now. Woe me, what am I supposed to do with you?”

Çetžak blinks, then places his hand on Laž’ar’s head, stroking his hair. “You can do whatever you want, Laž’ar. I would never be offended.” The softness in his voice is unmistakable. “But I would never think you would try to offend me, either.”

Laž’ar chuckles. “What are you, really, my guardian angel?”

Çetžak pauses minutely, enough for Laž’ar to notice. The expression also stiffens just as much before softening.

“If that is what you want me to be.”

Laž’ar senses that Çetžak left out something at the end. He doesn’t pursue it or ponder what it could be. Everyone has secrets. Who is he to pry?

---

What Çetžak doesn’t say is perhaps more his wish, rather than Laž’ar’s. And it’s Laž’ar’s wishes that matter, not his. As long as he can be with Laž’ar, he’ll do anything they want. Anything for this little creature, this beautiful thing, this living being, this wonderful imp.

But the words still linger on his tongue.

For as long as you live, I will let no one ever harm you.

He wishes he could say it. He won’t.

He lets his hand slide down the back of Laž’ar’s head. It rests momentarily at the back of his neck. An urge rises in his heart, but he stifles it, locking it away.

No one could harm his little imp.

He raises his hand again, stroking Laž’ar’s head once more. Then his hand slides to Laž’ar’s upper back. This puts him at ease. He can feel the heartbeats and the blood flowing. As long as Laž’ar is well, everything will be good.

“What are you doing?”

Çetžak stares blankly at the one called Retnüir while letting his hand fall. He already misses the warmth that only someone as lively as Laž’ar would have.

“Is something the matter?” he asks after a moment.

Retnüir narrows his eyes. It makes the chubby boy look like he’s squinting behind his glasses.

He’s obviously not as brilliant as Laž’ar, but he seems to be much more observant of other things. He grabs Laž’ar’s arm and pulls him away from Çetžak.

“Who are you?”

The words could have been like daggers, considering the sharpness with which they are said. It’s more a threat than a question. Çetžak isn’t threatened by it, however. Why would he be?

“Didn’t I say this is Çetžak?” Laž’ar asks, tilting his head, eyes filled with the innocence and naivety of a child.

It’s so very charming.

“He’s another friend of mine,” Laž’ar adds.

“Friend?”

“Why else would he be here?”

Retnüir glares at Çetžak. “Go away.”

Çetžak ignores him and looks back at Laž’ar, who looks up at him with arms spread in an “I don’t know what to do with him” gesture.

“Laž’ar has not told me to leave, so I shall stay.”

Letting go of Laž’ar, Retnüir takes a step forward. His jaw is tight, and his fingers quiver.

He’s frightened, Çetžak realises.

The boy makes a movement to grab Çetžak by the collar.

He does approve of protecting Laž’ar. He doesn’t approve of taking Laž’ar away from him. The lights of the sitting room flicker a little as anger rises in his heart. He avoids the hand that freezes for a moment, then smoothly moves to stand next to Laž’ar.

“Ret, you’re overreacting. I can have other friends, you know?”

Retnüir stares at Çetžak, then turns to Laž’ar, speaking in a measured manner, “You need to choose your friends very, very carefully, Laž’ar. You never know who — or what — may latch onto you.”

Çetžak lowers his gaze.

“Now you’re being rude. Damn it, Retnüir. We were going to have fun, and now you’re trying to kick my friend out.”

Retnüir swallows. “Yeah. Fine. Let’s just watch the film. But just so you know, I don’t want to sit anywhere near…”

Retnüir motions toward Çetžak. It’s offensive, but it’s not towards Laž’ar. He also knows this boy wants to protect Laž’ar. That’s fine. Çetžak has his Laž’ar, and Laž’ar isn’t unhappy.

“Come on, can’t you be a little nicer? You’re totally my big bro, I promise, but don’t be this overprotective. Please and thank you.”

“Whatever,” Retnüir spits out.

“What’s going on?”

It’s Khanuk. He also seems to sense something, but he is more considerate, perhaps. Or he is uncertain what to make of Çetžak.

“Ret’s being an arse. Khanuk, do something about it. He’s trying to kick Çetžak out!”

“Retty, don’t be like that. Our li’l Laž is growing up. Let him make new friends. He’s not stupid and can judge people just fine.”

Retnüir doesn’t seem convinced but only lets out an angry grunt before he approaches an armchair and sits down on it as if he’s silently protesting this entire event. Meanwhile, Khanuk places slices of some sort of bread with toppings on them and a tray of glasses filled with some unknown beverages on the low table and sits down on the couch.

He smiles at them. “Come on, now. Are we gonna have this marathon or what?”

Laž’ar shines up. “We are!” He grabs Çetžak’s wrist and pulls him along, sitting down on the sofa. “Besides, I’m starving!”

Çetžak doesn’t mind this Khanuk so much, so he gives him the benefit of sitting on Laž’ar’s other side. Retnüir refuses to look away from him, glaring at him as if he’d simply fade away like that.

Naturally, he can’t just fade away.