>When at last you pull back from each other (you still shaking; hot air and steam dumping from your mouth), there's silence

>Sam quickly pivots her body to face away from you, but you can see the unbridled joy played out across her face

>Her ears stand on high alert, and her little poofy tail is fanning as fast and as violently as a stubby tail can fan

>You wipe your lip with the back of your hand, still tasting her on your tongue

>That was your… well it was your fir-

>"BRO JOB BRO JOB BRO JOB!" Mike howls into the sky, clapping his hands like a madman. He pulls on an imaginary train whistle. “CHOO CHOO!"

>He stands up, wobbling on two shaky legs. “Hey, everyone!" His voice booms. “Anonymous isn't gay!"

>"Mike get down! If you fall off this roof I swear to God…" Jenna hisses

>Paying her no mind in his addled state, he cups his hands around his mouth for volume and belts out: “SAM GARLEN IS A-"

>Jenna yanks him down by the bottom of his jacket

>He lands hard on his ass, grunting as the roof practically sodomizes him

>"Ow," Mike groans, sliding down onto the slope of the roof

>You scowl at him, still flush, head spinning from the kiss

>But you can't say you don't deserve it a bit

>The whole thing is stupid and silly and sappy

>"Hey," Mike looks up at Jenna. “Thanks for that. I think I had a little too much."

>"Oh, you think?" She replies curtly, her own beer half empty

>When they start talking you disengage and focus back on Sam

>Sam turns to face you, and her expression gives you pause

>She has tears in her eyes, though she's doing her best to smile

>The rabbit scrubs her eyes with the back of her hands

>"T-Thank you f-for tonight." She pauses, as if she'd forgotten what she was going to say. “A-And for e-everything. W-Without you I-I don't think I-I'd have m-made it t-this far. Y-You saved m-me."

“Nonsense," you say. “Samurai Outlaw saved herself. And I mean that. All I did was provide some of the grunt work."

>"…I-I d-don't k-know ab-about that… I-I'm n-not a h-hero. I just d-d-dress l-like this."

>Fuck

>What is it going to take for her to believe that she has some worth?

>You turn to face the moon again as all five of you lapse into a momentary silence

>"Can you believe it?" Alex starts. “Tomorrow is… the day." 

>He's not looking at anyone

>His eyes fill with moonlight

>"Gonna go to that party and knock some skulls," Mike says, sitting up, grabbing another brew and leaning hard into Jenna

>Unsure of what to do with her hands, she hover-hands over Mike's waist

>And it's frankly fucking adorable how awkward she is around him

>"Y-Y-You thi-think we ha-have a shot?" Sam asks

“'Course we do. The goths are a lot dumber than they appear. We're going to go to that dance tomorrow, kick some ass, and then…" you drag in a deep breath of cold air

>"I'm going to go to college." Mike says before you can finish. “I don't care what I need to do to lift this curse. I'm going to fuck some shit up and then go to college — put this all behind me."

>You feel your throat tighten

>It must be just the cold, right?

>He's not going to… leave you all behind though, is he?

>Like, intellectually, you know he's leaving, but emotionally, you guess it really hasn't hit you yet that everyone is going their separate ways

>"Me too," Alex joins in. “I can't think of anything more important. Or anything I'd rather be doing with my Halloween." He flashes his polished smile at you all

>Your heart jumps a bit

>"You're going to school?" Jenna says, looking at Alex like he just said he was pregnant

>"'Course I am," he replies in a slurred voice, deep into another beer. “I'm going to be a politician and FIGHT for the rights of the people."

>Your hands start to sweat a bit

>College

>Everyone leaving

>Ambitions

>Plans

>Goals

>What do you have?

>A wild, vague notion, one that scares the shit out of you

>The idea of leaving too

>You glance down at your beer, see it's half-empty, and knock it back

“I'm going to graduate," you blurt out, probably a lot louder than you had intended

>You feel that familiar knot of anxiety start to coil up in your chest like a cobra

“A-And I've decided: I'm going to college."

>Stunned silence except for the rhythmic pounding of the bass

>Someone at the party squeals with laughter

>"Good," Mike says, matter-of-fact. “Of all the people I know, you're the most qualified to go to school."

>"I'll drink to that." Alex hoists his bottle in the air like an amber torch

>You weakly lift yours

>Jenna lifts her (second) bottle with Mike

>"A-A-And I'm n-n-never go-going back to my dad!" Sam exclaims, thrusting her half-finished beer into the air

>What do you say?

>Something cool?

>Something deep?

>Maybe just anything

>Spinning around in your head, thoughts firing off in all different directions, you can only settle on one thing:

“Here's to something that matters."

>"It's easy, Sam. Even I've driven a car," Alex slurs from the passenger seat. “It's like… like riding a bike."

>"I-I've n-never r-ridden a b-"

>Alex groans

>"What else haven't you done, breathed air?"

>You shoot him a defensive look

>Sam sits perched on your lap, her slender fingers gripping the wheel. Your foot rests on the brakes

>Your car, the rustbucket, is humming steadily, crammed in between Mercedes and BMWs

>Like a pimple on a perfect face

“Listen, you're going to do just fine," you assure her. “Just take us ba-back to the old church."

>You can still taste the last beers on your tongue, and the sloshing in your stomach makes you wish you hadn't been so zealous tonight

“I work the pedals, you steer. There's nothing to it."

>"I-I don't k-know…" she starts, but Mike cuts in from the backseat, his words even sloppier than Alex's

>"Yours is the only one thats sober," he says

>"Hey, I'm sober enough," Jenna whines. She's laying horizontal in the backseat, her head in the crook of Mike's lap. Mike runs a gentle finger through the fur on her skull, causing her ears to fold back

>"You kidding? I wouldn't trust you to even rides a scooter right now," Mike leans his head back against the seat and closes his eyes. “You and me got a good set up back here anyway."

>"Normally I'd claw you for that." Jenna nuzzles into Mike's lap. “But this time you're right."

>"On which part?"

>She replies: “Quit while you're ahead."

>Which Mike does, the crowned champion of the evening

>Or, at least of the back seat

>You have Sam

>And that's enough

>As if to remind your inebriated self of this fact, you wrap your arms around her waist and lightly pull her against you

>She squeaks a little, but her typical tremors never come

>Even at her boniest, most emaciated, you don't care about having her weight on top of you

>You just need to feel the weight of a single person to anchor you back to earth

“Ready?" You whisper to her

>She nods and grips the wheel a little tighter

>You throw the car into reverse and give a little gas

>Sam angles the wheel to compensate…

>… And your car goes the wrong direction, scraping into the curb with a painful shriek

>Her body tenses up

“Don't worry, don't worry," you say in as soothing a tone as you can muster, but your tongue trips over your words and you just end up doing a lot of drawn out syllables

“Just angle the wheel the other way when you're going in reverse." 

>She pulls the wheel over and you give it some gas

>The car comes free

>You throw the transmission into drive and give the accelerator a little gas

>You pull away into the night, leaving the pounding bass and debauchery of the party behind you in a swirling trail of loose leaves

>Sam is surprisingly good at navigating her way around town, and her steering motions — while labored and cautious — get you out of the the ritziest part of town

>She hardly even needed you to navigate the main roads

>Her memory is impressive, to say the least

>It's probably what helps her draw so gracefully

>The night is slow and cold, the radio low, but the car is a warm little torch carving down the empty roads

>And it feels good to have Sam's delicate body resting up against yours

>She feels like she's made of glass sometimes

>But then you remember her running away from her dad, opening up to you, defying Stella, going through ALL the shit that she's been through in her life

>And you know she's made of sterner stuff than what her bones and mottled fur say about her

>For how boring and shitty the party was, the rest of the night turned out to be perfect

>Until you got to the church

>You should have sensed something was wrong as you piled out of the car

>You should have been more alert, but the beer had blunted your already blunt senses

>How could you have not seen it there, just in the moon-cast shadow of that tree?

>Sam and Jenna sensed it too, but neither of them seemed to be able to place their sudden, hair-raising anxiety

>It was just that gut-kicking, involuntary sense that something was here that did not belong

>The two exchanged worried glances the second they got out of the car, Sam's ears high and alert, Jenna's mouth opening up in a snarl

>You ever have a moment, right before something goes horribly wrong, where everything happens in slow motion?

>This was one of those moments

>You saw Alex adjust his fedora and straighten his suit jacket out, brushing off dust and grit from Braydon's roof

>You saw Mike smile at Alex, his mouth shaping silent words as he pulled his jacket around him

>Sam looks towards you

>Her face is shock and horror, her body weak lines and frailty collapsing into her clothes like a failing bridge into troubled waters

>She opens her mouth to say something

>But

>Everything went quiet

>And then a light shineth into the darkness, spraying your shadows up against the front entrance of the church

>Two lights

>Old headlights

>From an old sedan, wearing belts of rust and cracks on its windshield, as if it shared blood with your own rustbucket

>An old and shitty Sedan that Mike had seen before in the neighborhoods on Tuesday

>The old and shitty Sedan that you saw in the school lot, that followed you here last night and left without suspicion

>The old and shitty Sedan that Sam's Dad is climbing out of

>The silver of a worn pistol flashing in the headlights