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The apartment smelled faintly of pumpkin spice and candle wax.
Ohm stood in the kitchen pretending badly to be very interested in stirring his drink. The cinnamon stick clinked against the side of the glass as his hand trembled, and he told himself this was normal. This was fine. This was what happened when you hosted a Halloween gathering and your boyfriend, boyfriend, he still liked thinking that word, walked out of the bedroom dressed as the physical manifestation of your childhood crush.
Jimmy cleared his throat softly behind him.
“Ohm?”
Ohm turned.
And promptly forgot how lungs worked.
Jimmy stood there in a black leather jacket that fit him dangerously well, sleeves hugging his arms, shoulders squared just enough to suggest confidence he didn’t even realize he was projecting. His hair was styled messier than usual, pushed back in a way that exposed more of his face. Dark jeans. Boots.
Not exaggerated. Not a costume you’d see at a party store.
Just enough.
Jimmy shifted his weight, suddenly self-conscious under Ohm’s stare. “Is it… okay?”
Ohm made a sound that may have been a whimper.
“…You’re evil,” he said faintly.
Jimmy blinked. “Oh.”
That was it. Just oh.
Ohm turned away, pressing his palms to the counter, breathing deeply.
You survived the movie, he told himself. You can survive this.
Jimmy stepped closer, careful, like he always was. “I can change if—”
“No,” Ohm said immediately, spinning back around. “No. Do not change. I need like five business days to emotionally recover.”
Jimmy smiled then, small and shy, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that always made Ohm feel warm and undone at the same time.
“…You really liked Kenickie,” Jimmy said.
Ohm groaned. “I liked him too much.”
Jimmy ducked his head, cheeks pink. “I thought it’d be funny.”
Ohm stared at him.
“You thought wrong,” he said solemnly. “This is a targeted attack.”
—
The first knock came barely ten minutes later.
“P’Ohm! P’Jimmy! We’re here!” Kong’s voice rang out before the door was even fully open.
Kong burst in wearing something aggressively orange and glittery, holding a pumpkin-shaped cup like it was sacred. Thomas followed more calmly, already smiling like he knew exactly what kind of chaos awaited him.
Kong’s eyes swept the room, and then locked onto Jimmy.
He stopped dead.
“…Wow.”
Ohm made a quiet, suffering noise and lifted his cup to hide behind it.
“P’Jimmy,” Kong continued, grinning slowly. “That jacket…”
Jimmy shifted, clearly unsure what to do with the attention.
Kong laughed. “Oh, P’Ohm is done for.”
“I’m right here,” Ohm muttered.
Thomas slipped an arm around Kong’s waist, amused. “You look great, P’Jimmy.”
Jimmy nodded politely. “Thank you.”
Ohm watched the way the leather creaked softly when Jimmy leaned back against the wall, hands sliding into the jacket pockets.
This is how I die, he thought serenely.
—
Namping and Keng arrived next, laughter already spilling out of them as they kicked off their shoes.
Namping took one look at the couch, then at Ohm’s face, then at Jimmy.
“Oh my god,” he said delightedly. “P’Keng, come here.”
Keng leaned in, took one look, and smiled knowingly. “Ah.”
“Ohm is melting,” Namping stage-whispered.
“I am not,” Ohm protested weakly.
“You are visibly overheating,” Namping said. “Do you need water?”
Jimmy frowned, stepping closer. “Are you uncomfortable?”
Ohm looked up at him, eyes wide.
“No,” he said quickly. “I’m just having a very intense emotional experience.”
Jimmy nodded slowly. “…Okay.”
Music started. Snacks were passed around. Candles flickered. The apartment filled with soft chaos, voices overlapping, laughter echoing off the walls.
And Jimmy kept moving.
Every time he adjusted the jacket. Every time he leaned down to hear someone better. Every time he laughed quietly at something Kong said.
Ohm felt like he was being personally attacked by the concept of body language.
Tle and FirstOne arrived hand in hand not long after.
First spotted Jimmy immediately.
“…P’Tle.”
Tle followed his gaze, eyebrow arching. “Oh.”
They both looked at Ohm.
“Oh,” FirstOne repeated, understanding dawning.
“Please don’t,” Ohm said without looking at them.
Tle smirked. “This explains so much.”
—
At some point, dancing started.
Ohm did not participate.
He sat frozen on the couch, drink clutched in both hands, watching Jimmy sway slightly to the music where he stood nearby. Not dancing, exactly, just moving enough to be devastating.
Jimmy brushed Ohm’s knee by accident.
Ohm flinched.
“Oh, sorry,” Jimmy said immediately.
“…Stop touching me,” Ohm whispered, half-laughing, half-dying.
Jimmy leaned in, voice barely audible.
“…I’m just being Kenickie.”
Ohm shoved him lightly, face blazing.
“…P’Jimmy. My Kenickie is evil.”
Jimmy smiled. Actually smiled. A little proud. A little mischievous.
—
Later, when the lights were dimmer, when voices softened, Jimmy leaned closer again.
“…Do you want a hickey,” he whispered, tentative but teasing, “…from Kenickie?”
Ohm’s entire brain shut down.
“…P-P’Jimmy,” he stammered.
Jimmy hesitated, searching his face. “I don’t have to.”
Ohm shook his head frantically. “No, I mean, yes. I just—”
Jimmy leaned in anyway, gentle and brief, lips brushing Ohm’s neck in a way that was more memory than mark.
Ohm exhaled shakily.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
Jimmy pulled back instantly. “Too much?”
“No,” Ohm said, breathless. “Just enough.”
—
By the time the last friend left, the apartment was quiet again.
Jimmy slipped off the leather jacket, folding it neatly.
Ohm watched him, something warm and heavy settling in his chest.
“You okay?” Jimmy asked softly.
Ohm nodded. “Yeah.”
Then he added, quieter: “You didn’t have to do all that.”
Jimmy stepped closer. “I wanted to.”
He rested his forehead against Ohm’s.
“I like seeing you happy,” he said. “Even when you’re embarrassed.”
Ohm laughed softly, eyes burning just a little.
“…You ruined Kenickie for me forever.”
Jimmy tilted his head. “Is that bad?”
Ohm kissed him, slow, fond, real.
“No,” he said. “It’s better.”
Jimmy smiled, quiet and sure.
And Ohm realized, having a shy, gentle Kenickie of his own, one who asked, who waited, who smiled like that was better than the real one ever was.