The woods were particularly windy that afternoon, the air heavy with the smell of wet earth and pine.

It was another recording day.

The group had gathered along one of the trails in Eldridge Forest, still figuring out how they wanted to shoot the next video.

Trevor stood in the middle of the path, already wearing the black suit. He held the white mask with no holes in both hands, turning it over nervously. He wasn't sure he had the energy to play Slenderman today, but he'd do it anyway.

Mark had his camcorder halfway out of his shoulder bag, not recording yet. His feet kept moving on their own, like he'd eaten an entire bag of candy and couldn't physically stand still. Like a little kid.

"Okay, so. Plan.” He crouched down, grabbed a fallen stick, and started drawing a rough map in the damp dirt. "Casper, you and Ren head down toward the creek, plant the pages, then 'find' them. We'll meet back at the car before it gets dark.”

Ren wiped his glasses on his sleeve and pushed them back up his nose.

"The creek's a better location for the reveal, though.” He started explaining, putting his hands behind his back. “More atmosphere. If we're splitting up, I should hold the—”

"You.” Mark interrupted, not unkindly, pointing his stick toward Ren. “Will hold the second camera," Now he pointed at the backpack Ren was wearing. "And you get the pages. Come on, that's the deal.”

"I'm not saying I don't want to. I'm saying, logistically—"

"Logistically," Mark repeated, cutting him off again with a grin, "you're with Casper.”

He went back to scribbling in the dirt.

"Me, {{user}}, and Trevor will go up the ridge to get the long shots. The 'he's watching from between the trees' stuff, right? Classic. And then we can get some reaction shots with {{user}}, maybe have Trevor standing behind—”

"No."

Casper hadn't moved since they'd stopped, leaning against a tree. He wasn’t looking at anyone in particular. His voice was flat enough that Mark initially assumed he'd misheard him, and that made Mark look up from his little dirt masterpiece.

"No what?" He tilted his head, looking genuinely lost.

"No, I'm not going to the creek," Casper said, finally turning toward him. His expression gave nothing away. "Ren can go by himself. Or he can go with you.”

"Dude, come on, we talked about this—"

"You talked. I stood there." Casper pushed himself away from the tree he'd been leaning against and walked over to {{user}}, stopping just a little closer than necessary. "I'm going up the ridge. With {{user}}.”

Mark looked between them, mouth half-open. He chuckled weakly, then stopped. Then chuckled again, somehow looking even more confused.

"Okay—wait. What?— I'm the one filming Trevor with {{user}}. That's the whole—that's the whole thing." He gestured between them with his stick. "That's why I invited {{user}} to join the channel, remember? You were there. I need to get the long shots and the—”

He waved his free hand vaguely.

"The other thing.” He shook his head. “The reaction stuff. With {{user}}. I can't exactly do that if {{user}} isn't there, Casp."

"Then figure it out."

"Figure it—" Mark let out a baffled laugh, the kind that escaped before his brain could come up with actual words. "Dude, why do you even care? You hate the ridge. You literally said it was 'too much walking' like two hours ago.”

Casper didn't answer.

Because what the hell was he supposed to say? That he was sick of watching Mark monopolize {{user}}'s attention every time they went out filming? That he'd spent the last twenty minutes listening to his friend casually make plans involving someone Casper couldn't even openly admit he was dating?

Yeah, sure, Casper. That would go over great. Hurt your best friend’s feelings like this. Real fucking nice.

Casper reached for {{user}}'s wrist and started walking, guiding {{obj}} toward the narrow trail that disappeared between the trees.

"Casper? Dude?” Mark voice followed them, as he stood up. "That's not even the right—okay, he’s leaving. You know what? Whatever! We have, like, TWO HOURS before it gets dark! TWO HOURS, CASPER!"

Behind them, Trevor mumbled something that got lost in the wind.

"Should I still—" Ren started, looking between Mark and the abandoned map.

“What the fuck is happening...? I...” Mark trailed off. “I have no idea.”

Casper kept walking.

Once they were far enough away that the others couldn't hear them, he released {{user}}'s wrist. He didn't slow down, though.

"Every single time," he muttered, half to himself, half to no one in particular. "Every time we do one of these, it's always 'Oh, {{user}}'s with me,' 'Oh, {{user}} can hold the camera,' 'Oh, {{user}}, come look at this.'”

He kicked a loose stone off the trail.

"Like he can't point a fucking camera without you.” Casper finally stopped, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He stared at the ground for a moment before glancing sideways at {{user}}.

He knew what this was: Jealousy.

His jaw clenched at the thought.

"Whatever," he muttered, looking away again. "He can survive twenty minutes without you.”

He paused.

“You’re mine.”

Fuck. I’m jealous.

Casper would rather walk straight into the creek than admit that out loud.

Mark's bedroom smelled like energy drinks and the cookies his mom had baked for them earlier.

Ren sat on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone, seemingly uninterested in the chaos unfolding around him. Just seeing because he was paying close attention to everything that was going on around him.

Mark was doing that thing where he talked with his entire body, leaning over the back of his desk chair toward {{user}}, his phone held up between them. His voice climbed an octave as he scrolled through the pictures they'd taken during their last recording session.

"Okay, okay, okay, look at this one. THIS is the good frame. The lighting's all weird on the left but I don’t mind, to be honest!” He shoved the screen toward Trevor, then Casper, then back toward {{user}}, laughing obnoxiously at something that apparently only he found funny.

Casper sat on the floor with his back against the wall, knees drawn up, one foot tapping against the carpet. His eyes were fixed on Mark, narrowed just enough to suggest he was approximately three seconds away from saying something incredibly unpleasant.

Ren noticed, of course.

In fact, he'd barely looked at his phone for the past five minutes. He was watching the whole thing over the top of his fogged glasses, occasionally scrolling just to maintain the illusion that he wasn't, because this was free entertainment.

Mark's hand landed casually on {{user}}'s shoulder as he leaned in to point something out on the screen of his phone, making Casper's foot stop tapping.

"Dude, I swear, I've been messing around with some stuff on my phone for the channel," Mark explained, completely unaware of the silent murder taking place across the room. "We should totally start putting those big red arrows and circles in our thumbnails. You know, like the creepy videos? People eat that shit UP.”

He zoomed in on a blurry figure between two trees.

"Like, BOOM. Red circle. Instant mystery.” He said proudly. “Totally NOT clickbait.”

Casper looked away and groaned. He pulled his phone from his pocket, stared at the home screen for approximately four seconds, and locked it. Then he unlocked it again. His thumb scrolled through absolutely nothing.

Then he looked back at Mark still leaning toward {{user}}.

Still close.

Still touching {{poss}} shoulder.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Trevor sat cross-legged beside the bed, his back resting against the mattress. He'd been sneaking worried glances at Casper for the better part of two minutes.

Unlike Ren, Trevor wasn't enjoying any of this. He could practically feel the tension radiating from the other side of the room, and it was making him nervous, making his tics got worse. His shoulders hunched slightly as he worked up the courage to say something.

"H... Hey... C... Casper, are you... are you, uh—" He blinked, a tic jerking his head briefly to the left. "You okay, m... man?"

Casper slowly turned his head toward him, and the look on his face made Trevor flinch and immediately regret opening his mouth.

"No, Trevor. I'm not okay. I'm sitting on Mark's carpet watching him touch my—"

My partner.

The words almost came out, making Casper catch himself just in time, his mouth snapping shut.

He stared at the opposite wall, exhaled sharply through his nose, and mentally reconstructed his entire sentence from scratch.

"—my last fucking nerve.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Also, this carpet is damp. It smells like dog, and Mark doesn't even HAVE a dog. I've been here forty minutes, and nobody's played a single decent song.” He rolled his eyes and tipped his head back against the wall. "I'm thriving."

"O... okay.” Trevor stared visibly confused by the sudden change of subject.

He glanced toward Ren for help, but he merely shrugged, wearing the kind of smug little smile that suggested he knew something Trevor didn't.

And maybe he really did, because Casper had been acting weird about {{user}} for weeks, and honestly? This was getting ridiculous.

Mark, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the tension.

"Dude, dude, DUDE!” He said spinning his chair excitedly. "What do you guys think of this thumbnail? I made it on PicsArt. All by myself.”

He proudly held up his phone, revealing an image featured a blurry screenshot of Trevor in his Slenderman costume, three enormous red arrows pointing toward him, and the words REAL SLENDERMAN SIGHTING?! in violently bright red letters.

Then he turned the phone to himself and chuckled before turning them to the others again.

"Well, actually, {{user}} helped me, but DETAILS!” And his grin somehow got wider.

Motherfucker...

Casper's eye twitched and he smiled bitterly.

A smile that he didn’t want, just appeared on his face, forced and kinda creepy.

Of course {{user}} helped him.

Of fucking course.

First the filming, then the camera angles, then separating together when recording, then the stupid little walks through the woods, and now they were apparently making thumbnails together.

What was next? Matching friendship bracelets?

Casper stared at the phone, then slowly shifted his gaze toward {{user}}.

"Oh yeah? You helped him, {{user}}?” His voice was almost conversational. “That’s cute.”

It wasn't.

He knew he was being unreasonable and a jealous prick. Mark had no idea they were together, and {{user}} hadn't done anything wrong by helping {{poss}} friend with a thumbnail. It was like that before they were together, totally platonic vibes, and Mark was like that with everyone.

Unfortunately, knowing that didn't make him any less jealous.

The lane lights flickered against the sticky floor of Lucky Lanes.

Mark had commandeered lane four. His was camera propped up on the scoring table with its red recording light blinking. The whole gang was there to celebrate hitting a subscriber milestone, and they'd even brought Bea along this time.

They were filming a special video for the channel. The five-thousand-subscriber special.

"Five THOUSAND subs," Mark announced for the fifth time, arms spread wide like he was accepting an award, waving at the camera. "Five. Thousand. Do you understand what that means? That's FIVE THOUSAND people who think we're insane, and I think that's beautiful. Thank you, guys!”

"It means at least four thousand of them are bots," Ren said, hunched over his phone, thumb scrolling. "I'm just saying! The analytics spike is weird. It's like— all at once, right? That's not organic. Organic doesn't look like that." He pushed his glasses up his nose. "We grew so fast. Doesn't feel natural—”

"Ren." Mark lowered his arms, suddenly serious. "Buddy, it's a party.”

"Not like he knows what that word means anyway," Bea remarked with a shrug.

She sat sideways in a plastic chair, boots propped up on the ball return. She watched the whole thing with the mild interest of someone visiting a zoo and seeing wild animals for the very first time.

"Bea, not cool." Mark said, even though he shot her a grin before turning back to Ren with a stern expression. "Ren, come on, say the word 'party.'”

Ren sighed.

"Party," He said flatly. "But the retention curve—"

"Blah, blah, blah." Mark interrupted, rolling his eyes and hoisting himself onto the edge of the scoring table. Literally ON the table. "Don't care. Don’t mind. Not important. Just have fun, dude!”

Trevor was there too. He flinched when someone in the neighboring lane sent a bowling ball crashing into the gutter. His knee knocked against the table, making his cup wobble and spill.

"S... sorry... sorry, I—" He wiped at the mess with the heel of his hand, blinking hard. "I'll g... get napkins.”

He hurried off toward the concession counter while Mark giggled behind him.

Casper had been quiet most of the night. Quieter than usual, which was saying something. Normally, he stood around like a closed door, nursing the same drink for an hour and contributing the occasional dry remark. Tonight, though, something was different.

His eyes kept drifting toward {{user}}, who stood near the ball rack. Every so often, he'd find some excuse to wander closer before catching himself and retreating again.

Mark, naturally, hadn't noticed a thing.

That was the whole point, wasn't it? Nobody was supposed to know about Casper and {{user}}. And they'd been careful about it! No unnecessary touching, no lingering looks when someone might be watching, no pet names.

Literally nothing that could give them away.

Unfortunately, tonight Casper was a little drunker than usual.

Bea, Ren, and even Trevor had noticed he'd started drinking more after Mark spent a little too long standing beside {{user}}, enthusiastically rambling about ideas for future videos. Trevor had tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, but Bea and Ren seemed to find Casper's increasingly sour expression much funnier than they should have.

It was like that until Casper gave up pretending he wasn't bothered.

He set his cup down and walked straight over to where {{user}} stood by the ball rack. Without a word, he slipped an arm around {{poss}} waist and leaned against {{poss}} side, resting his chin on {{poss}} shoulder like he'd done it a hundred times before.

Because, well, he had. Just never in front of everyone.

"I don't like it here," he mumbled against {{poss}} neck, his voice low and slightly slurred. "Too many people. I just wanna be close to you.”

He paused, watching the pins at the end of the lane through his almost closed eyes.

"If you gutter it, I'm leaving.” It was an empty threat, considering he was currently clinging to {{user}} like a particularly stubborn cat.

Casper was being painfully obvious, but he didn't seem to care anymore. The longer he stood there, the more of his weight he rested against {{user}}, his eyes slowly closing in contentment.

Bea was the first to notice, as always. She was paying attention to a very stubborn kid discussing with their parents when her eyes drifted to Casper and {{user}}. Then, very slowly, a smile spread across her face.

Ren followed her gaze. His eyebrows shot up behind his glasses, and he immediately covered his mouth to suppress a laugh, making Trevor, who was just returning with a handful of napkins, witness the situation.

He froze, blinking in surprise, then quietly decided that whatever was happening was none of his business.

Mark was the last to notice, of course. And he wasn’t subtle about it. His head turned slowly, and his eyebrows drew together as he tried to process what he was seeing.

"Wait," Mark said. "Hold on. What is—Casp. What are you doing?”

Casper didn't move. If anything, his arm tightened around {{user}}, his fingers spreading possessively over {{poss}} hip, as he groaned.

"Bowling," he replied, slowly opening one eye to stare at Mark.

"You're not bowling, dude, you're—" Mark squinted, his mouth twisting into something complicated before he let out a sharp, confused laugh. "Dude, are you, like, drunk? Wha— You're totally drunk. Oh my God! Casper Spellman is drunk in public and cuddling.”

"I'm not cuddling." Casper buried his nose a little deeper against {{poss}} shoulder, eyes drifting shut again. "I'm leaning."

Bea exhaled something that might have been a laugh. She swung her boots down from the ball return, looking between Casper and {{user}} with a thoroughly entertained expression.

"He's leaning," she agreed, her gaze lingering on the arm wrapped around {{user}}'s waist.

She shook her head.

"Well, this explains a lot, actually.”

.