n i n e

to an end and November drew closer, the yellowing leaves darkening to a musty brown as they drifted aimlessly from the branches they had once clung to, Oliver had come to the conclusion there were a few fundamental problems in his life.

The first, and least pressing, was that Adam was throwing a Halloween party. It was where Oliver was headed now – Adam's house was in the same neighbourhood as his, the far nicer part of the neighbourhood, but still within walking distance. Okay, this one wasn't a particularly significant issue, but Oliver kept circling back to it with the certainty that it wouldn't end well. He liked parties, as a general rule, but he didn't like dress-up parties and he didn't like awkward small talk. Given that it was Halloween and he didn't know enough people at Woodway yet, these were both unavoidable things. The real reason he didn't want to go had to do with two of his other problem, both of which would be there. Which led him to his second, slightly more concerning, problem.

That Clair was, almost definitely, trying to make a move on him.

He said almost because as with everything about Clair, there was an irritating sense of uncertainty. Maybe he was just delusional, reading into signs that weren't there, or maybe he was an idiot for not being more firm with her that he wasn't interested. The uncertainty made it difficult for him to know how to act. He couldn't say something to her about it if it was the former because it would just make him look like a complete prick but if she was actually flirting with him, ignoring it wasn't the best idea. She was awfully touchy feely with him, she'd laugh even when what he'd said was objectively not funny, and when she wasn't complaining about Adam to him she would return to the topic of the two of them, her and Oliver, dating. She'd push it and then spring back with a light-hearted, "Just kidding!" when she could see Oliver growing uncomfortable.

It was giving him a headache, trying to figure out what the hell kind of game she was playing, but she hadn't actually done anything. Oliver could hardly accuse her for her words.

Which led to his final, and arguably most troublesome, problem. Reed Bishop. Technically, he should have been happy. With every passing day, every swim practice and meet together, every lunchtime and trip to Juniper's together, the wall of ice that Reed had thrown up between them thawed a little more. Oliver was rewarded with a smile here, a short yet genuine laugh there. Things progressed from Oliver having to start every conversation, whether it was about something as mundane as the weather or how Lexie had learnt how to tie her own laces, to Reed offering up his own thoughts without being prompted. He didn't mind if the two of them were alone.

It was only when there was a reminder of that night they both religiously avoided ever talking about, or if their hands brushed or their eyes lingered on one another for a moment too long, that Reed snapped back into his cold, defensive shell with a scowl.

Oliver was happy but there was a sort of wretchedness in the happiness. Reed was happy to be alone with him now, but they rarely were. Charlie and Kessy and Dex when they were at practice, or driving down to a meet, and Adam and Clair when they were at school. Bailey was always there, of course – why wouldn't she be? She was Reed's girlfriend. He could hardly expect her to stay away because of his own traitorous feelings and he wasn't even sure he wanted her to. He liked Bailey, with her warm brown eyes and easy friendliness and ability to deal with Reed when he was in a pissy mood. It was fairly impossible not to like her.

He got to be around Reed, sure, but he had to watch Reed with his girlfriend and pretend it didn't bother him. Just keep smiling and pretend it didn't feel a little like dying every time he held her hand or kissed her, instead of him.

Jesus, Oliver thought, his steps faltering at the abrupt depth his thoughts had taken. The man walking behind him sidestepped him and shot him a strange look. Oliver had been in relationships, had girlfriends and even a couple of no-strings-attached situations with guys back when his sexuality was still confusing question mark that needed exploring, yet never felt anywhere near as strongly for any of them as he did for someone he wasn't even in a relationship with.

What was so special about Reed Bishop that he had this kind of hold over Oliver? Five years had passed, both of them in different cities, yet it was like they hadn't spent even a week apart. Maybe it was that Reed was his first crush, the first one to make him question everything he thought he knew about himself, or maybe this was how it was always destined to play out. He'd return to rainy Manchester and fall right back into the charming trap of pale blue eyes waiting for him.

Adam's house was just as imposing as he remembered. Oliver was supremely grateful that his parents were away for the weekend, the only reason it was possible for him to throw this party – he'd managed to avoid Mr and Mrs Montgtomery since returning. It didn't matter that they didn't know about his bisexuality or that he had absolutely no plans to tell them. He'd always felt like they saw right through him to see the truth even before he knew about it himself. He had to ring the doorbell a couple of times before the front door swung open to reveal Adam, decked out in an orange jumpsuit and with a silver handcuff snapped loosely around wrist, the other cuff dangling free.

"I thought you were going as Dracula," Oliver said.

"Clair wanted to do a couple costume. Don't even ask me about what she's wearing," Adam muttered, looking as if he'd had a whole argument about that and had already lost it. He scanned Oliver from head to toe. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

"Uh, a ninja?"

Adam was a master in deadpan and wielded it more than effectively now. He didn't even bother justifying that explanation with a response.

"Okay, a spy, then," Oliver said, as far as he was willing to compromise. "Spy or ninja. Take your pick."

Oliver knew his outfit – or lack thereof, depending on how you looked at it – would have caused more than a little disagreement so he'd simply said, "It's a secret" when anyone asked what he'd be going as. It wasn't that he hated Halloween, he just hated dressing up now that he wasn't fourteen anymore and felt ridiculous even looking at all the outrageous Halloween outfits on display in shops. He'd racked his brain for how he could get away with not having to actually dress-up but still say he was something, if anyone asked, then racked his cupboard to settle on a black shirt and dark-washed jeans.

"You know what, I don't care. I don't even care anymore," Adam said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I've had more than enough costume-related arguments today. Just go in the kitchen and make yourself useful."

Elsie and a couple of her friends were in the kitchen, all three of them dressed up for Halloween themselves. "Hey," Oliver said, taking in Elsie's hair bunched up into two blonde pigtails dip-dyed pink and blue, respectively. It was paired with the distinctive fishnets and shorts combo. "Harley Quinn?"

Elsie beamed. "Exactly! I told you I didn't need a bat to go with the costume, Cora. People already get it."

"You're too soft and nice to be Harley Quinn," her dark-haired friend, presumably Cora, replied. "Trust me, you need the bat."

"I'm dressing up as Harley Quinn, not becoming her," Elsie protested.

Cora lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "So, what are you supposed to be?"

It took Oliver a moment to realise the question was addressed to him and glanced down at his rather underwhelming shirt-and-jeans ensemble. At least, it was certainly underwhelming compared to the three girls. Cora was a generic yet convincing black cat — her outfit was nothing more than a black crop top and ripped black jeans, but she'd made up for it with elaborate make-up including whiskers and completed the look with with velvety black cat ears perched atop her head. The redheaded girl had run with her hair colour and was clearly meant to be Ariel, with a seashell bra and long sequinned green skirt fashioned as a tail.

"A ninja," Oliver said. "Or a spy."

Ariel looked confused. "Or a spy?"

"Whichever you think looks more convincing. It's a you choose kinda outfit."

"You mean you didn't want to choose," Cora scoffed, but there was amusement underlying her scorn. Oliver didn't miss the appreciate once-over that followed what had been a cursory glance at his outfit and didn't really mind returning it. Just because he was hung up on his best friend didn't mean he wasn't allowed to acknowledge pretty girls. If anything, he should acknowledge pretty girls because he was hung up on his best friend. "Wait, I have something which might make your utterly shit costume look slightly less shit."

"It's not that bad," Elsie offered, a half-hearted yet valiant attempt to soften her friend's blunt comment.

"Nah, it's shit," Oliver said, with a smile. "I'm not trying to win any prizes with it."

Cora dug around in the small black purse slung over her shoulder and drew out what looked a piece of black cloth. "Try this on for size," she said, offering it out to Oliver. "I kept it on hand in case the cat ears weren't convincing enough but I think it'll suit your costume, whatever the hell it's supposed to be, better."

"What is it?" Ariel (Oliver knew that wasn't her name but he also had no idea what it was, so he was sticking with the mermaid alibi for now) asked.

Oliver shook it out in his hands to reveal a simple black domino mask which would cover his eyes. Without questioning what it might turn him into, Oliver tugged it over his dark hair and let the soft material settle over his cheekbones. "Well?" Oliver said, running fingers through his hair to tug it free from the edges of the mask. " Improvement?"

"A ninja with some kind of hidden identity," Elsie said, nodding her approval. "Definitely better than a ninja with an unmasked face."

"And one who just wears a shirt and jeans," Cora added, but there was a gleam in her dark eyes. There was a lack of subtlety in the way she made it clear she was checking Oliver out that might have been intimidating for someone else, but he found refreshing. "Whatever you decide to be, ninja or spy or bloody batman, keep the mask on. It suits you."

Oliver caught and held her bold gaze. "Noted."

"Reed's out in the garden, by the way," Elsie said. "They're trying to string fairy lights through the trees or set up the speakers or something like that. If you want to join."

Oliver snuck a couple of crisps from the snacks on offer and headed out towards the large garden stretched out behind the house. Oliver was about to slide the patio doors shut behind him when he heard Cora's voice, loud and clear, say, "Who was that?" and it was too tempting to let the door linger open for just a little longer. He knew it was bad to eavesdrop on conversations that didn't involve him but this one was about him. How could he not sneak a little listen?

"Oliver," Elsie replied. "He was Reed's best friend, years ago. He just moved back from London."

"Well, he's hot. How are all your brother's friends, and your brother, hot?"

"Good gene pool," Ariel suggested.

"Whatever it is," Cora said, "I want some of it for myself."

Oliver let the door close before he could be caught out listening in on them, but he'd heard enough to confirm what he has suspected. Cora was hot, that much was undeniable, with her silky straight black hair and slim waist. It was just an added bonus that she thought he was attractive too. The garden was in action when Oliver turned his attention to it. Reed, along with a couple of other guys Oliver vaguely recognised from their year, had taken to stepladders propped against the trees around the large garden in an attempt to string glowing white fairy lights between their branches. Clair was in the middle of it all, directing the guys with her commands, but Oliver noticed her costume before anything else she was saying.

Adam had said they were a couple costume and Oliver could see how she could have passed for a police officer, if the police office was planning on heading straight for a stripper's pole after her shift. Clair was wearing a tiny leather miniskirt and fitted awfully tight black bodice that revealed a considerable amount of skin, paired with thigh high boots that laced all the way to the top. A fitted black cop hat was perched atop her strawberry-blonde curls and silver handcuffs, not unlike the ones that had been strapped to Adam's wrists, hung from the silver chain serving as a belt looped around her waist.

No wonder Adam hadn't been pleased about what she was wearing. Oliver didn't even like Clair and he still found the astounding amount of cleavage she had on display distracting.

"Oliver!" she exclaimed, before he could sneak back inside. She caught his arm between her hands as if sensing he wanted to make an escape and Oliver leant as far back from her as possible. "How does the garden look? Pretty good, right? I managed and directed the whole thing, of course."

"I mean, once you get the fairy lights up," Oliver said, "yeah, I guess."

Clair pouted. "So mean. I like the mask, by the way. Are you meant to be Zorro?"

"Sure," Oliver said, without a clue who that was. Maybe getting through the night would be easy if he just let people guess what he could be and agreed with whatever they came up with.

"Well played. You're missing the hat, though," Clair said.

Reed didn't seem to agree that Oliver had played it well at all as he clambered down from his ladder, shoving the bundle of lights into someone else's arms, and approached with a frown dressed as Draco Malfoy. His costume had actually been Oliver's idea. With the same white-blonde hair and affiliation for Slytherin (there was no doubt that Reed was a Slytherin), it was an easy enough costume to put together. He'd just worn his school uniform consisting of white shirt, black jumper and black trousers paired with a green striped tie borrowed from his dad's wardrobe. The only thing he'd had to pay for was the black robes with an inner lining of deep green. It suited him, unsurprisingly, the Hogwarts student look but Oliver was sure he could have pulled any costume off.

"I knew we shouldn't have let you keep your costume a secret," Reed said, unimpressed. Oliver could only imagine his reaction if he'd seen him before he'd slipped the mask on. "What are you even supposed to be? An underdressed teenage boy going to a masquerade ball?"

"He's Zorro, obviously," Clair said.

"Don't be an idiot," Reed said rudely. "He looks nothing like Zorro."

"You're hardly one to make comments about other people's costumes, Reed," Clair said, but there was something razor-sharp beneath the light tone. The relationship between the two of them seemed to have gone from tolerable to actively disliking one another. Her hazel eyes were cold where they swept Reed in a once-over. "You don't even have a wand."

Reed walked up to the closest tree and snapped off one of the smaller, lower hanging branches. He shoved it unceremoniously into his pocket with a scowl. "Now I do. If you really want to discuss costumes," Reed said, and Oliver knew from the look in his blue eyes that he was about to say something undoubtedly offensive, "then you should know, Clair, that you look far more like a hooker than law enforcement official."

Oliver winced a little. Just as offensive as he had feared.

"Good thing your opinion means nothing to me," Clair retorted, and whirled around without, stalking away on her heeled boots without another word.

Oliver sighed. "Was that really necessary?"

"What, the truth? It's not my fault if she doesn't like it."

"You don't have to pick a fight with everyone, Reed."

He hadn't meant it as an attack, just an observation, but Reed took it personally anyway. "Actually, I can pick a fight with whoever the fuck I want," he said coldly. "Up to and including your apparently new best friend, Clair."

"Okay, I'll bite," Oliver said. "What's got you in such a bad mood?"

Reed said nothing, just looked at him, hard. It was almost a glare but not quite, making Oliver think him being especially prickly today wasn't entirely to do with him or Clair. When it seemed as if he had nothing to say to that, Oliver plucked his impromptu wand from his pocket. Reed didn't stop him. He twirled it between his fingers, snapping a couple of short extraneous twigs off the main branch.

"Draco Malfoy suits you," Oliver remarked.

"What, the asshole personality?"

"I meant the outfit," Oliver said mildly, "but sure, if the shoe fits. You're a Slytherin, that's for sure."

"And you're a Hufflepuff," Reed said, not unkindly. The fading light of the setting sun bled across his pale hair and cast him in the same shades of orange gold as the fallen leaves littering the ground.

"Really? I don't think I qualify as nice enough to pass as a Hufflepuff."

"You can be nice enough when you want, but I meant more in terms of loyalty. You're one of the most loyal people I know," Reed said, and as if realising the weight of his words at the same moment as Oliver clocked them, his cheeks went pink. He snatched his wand back with a scowl as if to cover up his embarrassment. "But you're still annoying as shit."

He turned to stalk back across the garden and Oliver called after him, with a grin, "Saying something mean after a compliment doesn't negate it!"

Reed flipped him off over his shoulder without looking back.