When Evan finally managed to shut his eyes, an image persisted and burned into the back of his eyelids. A memory of Ryans thousand-yard stare, wide open, staring right through a gasping Evan. Something intense bubbling beneath the conceptualized surface of his pale iris membrane.

Something hungry. Something that fought to be let out.

Evan tried blinking away the scene to no avail.

He thought he could finally be past his initial impressions of the other boy, but as the unsettling image flashed alive between blinks, every pleading hope for a good night's rest vanished and his thoughts returned to his mind's greatest mystery.

Evan tossed and turned for what felt like hours, clenching his head, applying pressure to his eyes, taking melatonin - ANYTHING. Anything to sleep.

After a dozen fruitless more attempts, the melatonin at long last kicked in and Evan couldn't fight back, even with the long road to sleep being haunted the entire way there.

Suddenly, just as quickly as it happened, Evan was awake again. Or at least he thought he was, tree's resembling real ones surrounded him, but stood tall with enough differences that Evan inherently knew something was amiss, that this couldn't be real. He stood on ancient brick that crumbled and that dug in vain into the soles of his feet. He couldn't feel it, but he still peered curiously down at the jagged pebbles as he heard approaching thudding of determined footsteps. He looked up.

Even more unbelievable was the still image of a smiling Clay standing before him.

"Hey, man!" Clay greeted, his familiar ever-present grin drowning his features pleasantly. His demeanor betrayed his expression. His smile was wide enough to simultaneously conceal and reveal his feelings at once, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, he threw polite, unsuspecting smiles to the sheep to stay below the radar. Never allowing the sheep enough time to question it's sharp, blood-stained teeth before it personally adds another coat of fresh red to the enamel.

Evan could instantly sense that...

Clay was pissed.

And he was coming right for Evan.

"Hey..." Evan replied nervously, unsure of how to interpret the newfound array of foreboding energy. As Clay approached, less than 2 feet away, Evans legs felt like buckling. Something about the way Clay regarded him, like he couldn't compare, dared to confirm Evan's superstitions and fears about their friendship.

Clay stood, the wind bouncing through his black curls playfully. His hands were jammed in his pockets boyishly.

"You didn't cancel our plans for tomorrow," he asked cocking his head slightly, looming over Evan, his smile never faltering for even a moment, "did you?"

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Evan let out a shuddering sigh. So that's what this was about. He was subconsciously worried that Clay still held a grudge against him from his earlier request.

"Yeah, dude. What kind of friend would I be to let you miss the best night of your life?" Evan replied coolly as his shaking legs slowed. He placed a friendly hand on Clays shoulder, Clay didn't even flinch as Evan's hand slid right through down to his abdomen.

Evan recoiled. Clay stood still before proclaiming, unacknowledging, as if on a script timed to perform certain gestures and to say certain words

"That's what I like to hear."

Evan shivered as a gust of wind blew through them. He looked up to examine the weather and watch as the sky morphed into a cluster of dark thunder and red danger.

"Uh," Evan panicked. The faint shrills akin to a balloon deflating cut him off and screamed in his ears. It rang against the trees, passing above the branches and through the leaves like a haunting tune.

Evan covered his ears, squeezing his eyes to drown out the noise. Liquid soaked through into his shoes. He squinted to investigate the source and found the dream man standing before him to be melting grotesquely, the stilts of legs sinking lop-sided into the concrete like it was quicksand.

Evan instinctively reached to grab his friend's shirt, to slow the mortifying process, only to result in a sinister thin, murky liquid to run down his forearms. He stared in horror, eyes wide mouth agape in a scream that didn't come out.

Clay leaned more into Evan's grip, soaking Evan with the opaque liquid as his distorted voice offended his ears, predicting ominously, "There's a reason why the best parties start at seven."

Evan peered at Clay as he continued sinking, confusion zapping through him at the sudden forecast. He wracked his brain trying to remember any significance for the number seven. When he couldn't find any, he inquired, his fingers curled and his grasp of Clay's shirt tightened, "What does that mean?"

Clay smiled and became rigid as he stopped sinking at once. "Don't you know? The number seven belongs to the spirits. You didn't think you'd be the only one enjoying yourself on Halloween, did you?"

Evan immediately released, sticking his hands slightly up in halfhearted protest,  

"Clay," he objected, "you know my mom freaks over that sort of stuff. I'm not about to get grounded so we -" he was cut off by the firm pressure of a thumb pressing against the center of his forehead. It lingered, imprinting itself like papercut. Clay held it there momentarily before removing it. It burned.

"Shhh..." a voice commanded

Evan's hands flew instinctively to his head to clasp the burn as he fell to the ground, startled. He glared up, unsure of what Clay had done to him, but mainly because he immediately recognized a silky voice not of Clay's speaking to him.

Clay had morphed into an entirely different person, who now crouched with an air of triumph before him. Platinum albino hair trickled down the man's shoulders, reflecting the warm red of the sky. He evaluated Evan, taking him in with his unmistakable blank eyes, unaffected by the fictitious world around them.

"Don't you get tired of being worried all the time?" Ryan asked.

Evans face contorted into fury. He shot up, sputtering indignantly. Rubbing his head as clouds of darkness met the corners of his eyes. He flailed expressively at the man while he tried to piece together a sentence the same way you'd piece together a jigsaw puzzle with no image. An effort with no reward.

"Ah, well." Ryan continued, shrugging to himself nonchalantly as he gently pushed Evan to lie on his side against the ground, "It doesn't really matter, I guess. Maybe I made you like this, or perhaps some people are just born this way. All the same."

Evan squirmed as he felt pebbles roll beneath him. Ryan stayed in front of him waiting as Evan's eyes struggled to remain open, until Evan's very last blink where Ryan stood, muttering cheerily, "See you soon."

When Evan jolted awake, he still felt the heat from Ryan's thumb linger on his head.