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It was a typical afternoon at Echo Creek Academy, the sun hanging high in the sky, casting warm rays over the school grounds. Students were scattered around, going about their day, when suddenly, the ordinary was shattered by an eruption of flames. The blaze appeared out of thin air, licking hungrily at the sky, and from the inferno emerged a sight that made every head turn: a decrepit carriage pulled by a ghostly, lifeless unicorn. Its once-majestic form was reduced to a skeletal figure, its hollow eyes glowing faintly with an eerie light. The entire spectacle radiated a dark, otherworldly energy that sent a collective shiver down the spines of those watching.
As the carriage creaked to a halt in front of the school, its ancient wood groaning under the weight of unseen forces, the door slowly swung open. From within the shadowy interior, a figure stepped out, their presence immediately commanding attention. Flames sizzled and cracked everywhere their shoes touched, leaving scorched imprints on the pavement. The figure, dressed in a sleek, dark suit that accentuated their sharp features, moved with casual confidence as if the chaos they brought with them was merely a part of their daily routine.
Students began to whisper, their voices hushed but filled with awe and curiosity. Most of the murmurs were about how strikingly handsome the newcomer was, but the person in question paid no mind to the chatter. Their focus was singular, their gaze fixed on one goal: Star Butterfly.
With purposeful strides, they made their way through the school’s corridors, the air growing noticeably hotter with each step. When they reached a classroom, they didn’t bother knocking; instead, they simply pushed the door open, the hinges protesting with a loud creak. The room fell silent as the figure’s shadow stretched across the floor, and without so much as a glance at the other students, they used a flick of magic to lift the person sitting in front of Star out of their seat, hovering them in mid-air before unceremoniously setting them aside.
“Hey, Star. I’m here to take you to the Blood Moon Ball,” the figure announced, their voice smooth but laced with a hint of possessiveness. The demon, Tom Lucitor, Star’s ex-boyfriend, tossed his sunglasses aside, revealing his fiery eyes as he extended his hand toward her. In his palm, a small, moon-shaped flame flickered to life, casting an enchanting glow over his features as he wiggled his eyebrows, a playful yet determined glint in his eyes. The Blood Moon Ball was no ordinary event—it was a night of deep significance in the demon world, a gathering of power and tradition that only happened once every 667 years.
Star, however, was having none of it. “Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in a mixture of annoyance and urgency. With a swift movement, she grabbed her wand, its tip glowing with magical energy, and dragged Tom out of the classroom, his feet barely skimming the ground. As they reached his carriage, Star magically removed the door, leaving it floating in mid-air as she thrust a piece of burning wood into Tom’s hands. “You need to leave right now. Take your carriage, your fire, and your dead horse, and go back to the Underworld!”
Tom, ever the lovestruck fool, grinned at her, his heart swelling with affection despite her harsh words. “Wait, I’m dead?” the unicorn pulling the carriage suddenly asked, its ghostly voice filled with confusion.
Star, thoroughly exasperated, rolled her eyes and turned back toward the school, her shoulders slumping in a mix of fatigue and frustration. Tom, undeterred, quickly recovered his composure, his expression shifting from disappointment to smug confidence. “Oh, come on, Starship~,” he cooed, his voice dripping with charm. With a firm stomp of his foot, flames erupted from the ground, swirling around them in a fiery dance as Tom’s magic swept Star off her feet and into his lap. He beamed down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief as she looked up at him, startled.
“It’s the Blood Moon Ball!” he declared, his tone filled with excitement as he spun them both in a graceful twirl, the flames around them flickering in time with their movements. “It only happens once every 667 years,” he added, his voice lowering to a flirtatious purr as he held her close, his breath warm against her ear.
Star, however, was not swayed. With a swift twist, she flipped out of his grip and landed gracefully on the ground, her boots making a soft thud as they touched down. “And us Getting back together will never happen not even in six hundred and six no wait -seven years, end of sentence!” she snapped, her voice sharp with finality as she turned on her heel and marched away, her wand glowing faintly in her hand.
Tom, desperate to win her back, hurried after her. “Wait, wait, wait, wait. Star, hang on. I’m a changed man, okay?” he pleaded, his voice softening as he tried to convey his sincerity. “I’ve got a life coach, Brian,” he said, gesturing to the carriage where a man’s head popped out from within.
“Hey,” Brian greeted nonchalantly, offering a small wave as he handed Tom a bunny. “He’s awesome,” Tom insisted, holding up the fluffy creature as if it were proof of his transformation. “A happy bunny,” he added, cradling it in his arms as he proudly displayed the ‘Anger-Free for 53 Days’ badge pinned to his shirt.
Star’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she stared at the badge. “Fifty-three?” she echoed, her disbelief evident in her tone.
“Don’t you wanna pet my bunny?” Tom asked, his voice taking on a hopeful note as he held the bunny closer to her, its tiny nose twitching adorably. The creature even seemed to wink at her, its soft fur glowing slightly in the lingering light of Tom’s flames.
Star hesitated, her tough exterior momentarily cracking as she gazed at the bunny. “Well, he is adorable,” she admitted, her voice softening as she leaned in to pet the creature.
But before she could touch it, Marco, Star’s best friend, burst onto the scene, launching himself between them with a fierce battle cry. “Hi-yah!” he shouted, his hands flying through the air in a karate move that separated Tom from Star, leaving the demon clutching at his now disconnected arm in pain.
“Back off, demon!” Marco growled, his stance protective as he positioned himself in front of Star, his eyes locked on Tom with fierce determination.
“Marco!” Star yelled, trying to get his attention as Tom’s growl deepened, his eyes beginning to glow with a dangerous light.
“Oh no,” Star muttered under her breath, her heart sinking as she anticipated the imminent clash between her best friend and her fiery ex.
But before things could escalate further, Brian rushed out of the carriage, placing a calming hand on Tom’s shoulder. “Walk and talk it out,” he advised, his voice steady and soothing as he led Tom in a circle. “Walk and talk it out... walk it out,” he repeated, guiding Tom away from the confrontation as Star quickly grabbed Marco’s hoodie, pulling him back.
“Uh, you better run,” she whispered urgently, her voice filled with panic as she glanced at the furious demon.
Tom, now on his third lap, let out a nervous laugh, his eyes returning to their normal state as he tried to calm himself. “No, no, no, no—everything’s under control,” he assured, though the way he squeezed the bunny in his hand made its fur stand on end, puffed up like it had been struck by lightning.
“Marco, don’t karate him!” Star scolded, her voice sharp as she turned to her friend, who was still poised for another attack. “This is... Tom,” she said flatly, her expression a mix of exasperation and resignation.
“That’s your demon ex-boyfriend, Tom?” Marco asked, his eyes widening in surprise as he glanced between Star and the demon.
“He’s a lot hotter than I thought,” Marco whispered. Star nudges Marco's side.
“I’m just saying,” Marco said with a shrug.
“Nice to, uh... meet you, Marco,” Tom said awkwardly, his usual bravado momentarily slipping as he shifted uncomfortably.
“What is he doing here?” Marco whispered, though his voice was loud enough for Tom to hear.
“He wants to take me to the Blood Moon Ball,” Star admitted, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she avoided Marco’s gaze.
“Star, never go with a predator to a second location,” Marco advised, his tone serious as he remained in his defensive stance.
“Look, I can see you’re mad,” Tom sighed, his voice dropping to a more serious tone as he addressed Marco. “You think I’m a total jerk. I get it. But I have changed. Remember, I’m not the only one with horns,” he added, a small smile playing on his lips as he pointed to Star’s head.
Star’s stern expression softened slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she glanced up at Tom. But before she could respond, the dead unicorn pulling the carriage spoke up again, its ghostly voice filled with confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me I’m dead?”
Tom chuckled softly at the absurdity of the situation and, deciding to ease the tension, turned back to Star. “No pressure. If you decide you want to go,” he began, stepping back into the carriage, “just toll this bell.” He handed her a small, intricately designed bell, its red details glinting ominously in the fading light. As he disappeared into the carriage, a curtain of flames rose, leaving only a small window through which he peered out.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange hue across Echo Creek. In Star’s room, the dim light filtered through the curtains, creating a soft, cozy atmosphere. The walls, adorned with magical trinkets and posters of past adventures, seemed to glow in the fading daylight. Marco stood in front of Star’s wardrobe, his arms crossed and a somber expression on his face, his signature red hoodie slightly askew as he absently adjusted the sombrero perched on his head.
“You’re making a big mistake, Star,” Marco said, his voice tinged with worry. He watched as Star moved around the room, gathering items for the Blood Moon Ball.
Star twirled a shimmering dress in her hands, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Maybe, but it could be fun!” she replied with a playful sing-song tone, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she held the dress up against herself, imagining how it would look.
Marco sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you just stay here, where it’s always fun?” he suggested, trying to keep his voice light, but the uncertainty was clear. He offered her a lopsided smile, hoping she’d reconsider. “Like... guaranteed.”
Star shrugged, not missing a beat as she tossed her dress onto the bed and moved toward the mirror on the opposite wall. “Well, this is a different kind of fun,” she said, her smile widening as she pressed a small button on the mirror, transforming it into a room divider. She glanced back at Marco, a teasing glint in her eye. “Don’t look! I’m gonna change.”
Marco quickly turned away, fumbling with his sombrero to shield his view. “I just don’t trust Tom,” he muttered, his concern growing. “Maybe I should go with you.”
Star’s voice floated over from behind the divider, accompanied by the rustling of fabric as she changed into her dress. “Marco, you weren’t invited,” she reminded him gently. There was a pause, and then she added, “Besides, you gotta trust me to do the right thing for my—Self—ahh!” Her voice hitched as a blast of magic accidentally zapped her, causing a brief flash of light.
Marco spun around, worry etched across his features. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally, totally, totally…” Star’s voice wavered slightly, and Marco could hear the exhaustion in it. “I just gotta stop using magic on—on my face…”
Marco’s shoulders tensed. “All I’m saying is guys like Tom never change,” he said, his tone serious. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him, the thought of Star going to the Underworld with Tom making his heart race for all the wrong reasons.
Star grunted softly as she slipped on her shoes, her resolve unshaken. “Well, there’s only one way to find out,” she replied cheerfully. With a quick shove, she pushed the mirror back into its original form, revealing herself in the full splendor of her outfit. The dress, a beautiful shade of deep blue, shimmered like stardust under the soft light. Her hair was styled elegantly, and the faint glow of magic still lingered around her.
Marco’s breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her. “You look amazing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but full of awe.
Star beamed at him, her smile as bright as the stars that dotted her dress. “Thanks, Marco!” she chirped, but her excitement was met with a quiet plea from her best friend.
“Don’t go,” Marco whispered, the strain in his voice betraying the worry he tried to hide. His dark eyes searched hers, silently begging her to stay.
Star’s expression softened, but the playful defiance in her eyes remained. “I’m going!” she whispered back with a grin, dismissing his concerns with the same carefree attitude she always had. She picked up the small bell Tom had given her earlier, ringing it to summon the carriage that would take her to the Underworld.
As the sound of the bell echoed through the room, Marco’s heart sank. He watched as Star’s gaze drifted to the window, where the carriage—still pulled by the spectral unicorn—emerged from the shadows. Flames flickered along its wheels, casting an eerie light on the street below.
“Star, please,” Marco’s voice wavered, taking a step closer to her. “You don’t have to do this.”
Star turned to him, her eyes softening at the sight of his concern. She reached out, her hand brushing against his. “Marco, I know you’re worried,” she said, her voice gentle. “But I need to do this. I need to find out if he’s changed.”
Marco’s hand closed around hers, the warmth of her touch grounding him in the moment. “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he confessed, his thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles on her skin.
Star smiled softly, her heart swelling at his concern. “I know,” she whispered, her voice filled with affection. She leaned in, her forehead resting against his. “You always have my back.”
Marco closed his eyes, savoring the closeness, the simple connection between them. “Always,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet of Star’s room. The bond between them felt stronger than ever, a silent understanding passing between them as they stood there, holding on to each other.
But all too soon, the moment was broken by the sound of the carriage’s door creaking open. Star pulled back, a small, sad smile on her lips as she looked at Marco one last time. “I’ll be okay,” she promised, squeezing his hand before letting go.
Marco’s hand fell to his side, the warmth of her touch lingering as she turned away. He watched as she walked toward the carriage, her heart racing as she prepared to face whatever awaited her in the Underworld. The flames around the carriage flared up as she approached, casting her in a fiery glow.
“Star,” Marco called out, his voice stopping her in her tracks. She turned to face him, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity in his eyes. “If anything happens… I’ll come for you.”
Star’s smile widened, her heart swelling with emotion. “I know you will,” she said, her voice full of certainty. “But don’t come for me,” she whispered. With one final look, she stepped into the carriage, the door closing behind her with a soft click.
It opened again, and she peeked her head out. “Seriously, Marco, do not come to rescue me,” Star said, pointing her wand at Marco. “Or I will zap you.”
Marco flinched back when she charged the wand, only for it to cut off abruptly.
“Got it,” Marco admitted. Star smiled, tapped his head, and closed the door for the final time. The carriage began to move, the flames lighting up the night as it carried her away from Echo Creek. Marco stood by the window, watching as the carriage disappeared into the distance, his heart heavy with a mix of fear and hope.
As the last of the flames faded into the night, Marco whispered to the empty room, “Be safe, Star.”
And with that, the night swallowed the carriage, leaving Marco alone.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Okay, guys,” Tom, the prince of the underworld, said, his voice tinged with frustration. The dim, flickering light of the blood-red torches cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, and the low hum of demonic music filled the cavernous hall. Tom's brow furrowed as he took in the scene before him. He glared at the two hooded figures standing before a skeletal figure bound to the wall, one of them raising a morning star, ready to strike. The skeletal figure rattled quietly, the chains around its bony wrists clinking softly.
“I don’t know what you’re about to do,” Tom began, his voice echoing off the cold stone walls. His gaze shifted between the two hooded figures, their faces hidden in the depths of their cloaks. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur and the underlying tension of the Blood Moon Ball preparations. “But I want to keep things low-key for Star.” His tone softened slightly as if pleading for some semblance of decorum.
One of the hooded figures, voice dripping with disdain, scoffed, “You wanna turn the Blood Moon Ball into a ‘greeting card’ holiday? Go ahead.”
Tom blinked, confusion flashing across his features. His fiery eyes narrowed as he tried to discern which one of the two had spoken. “Wait—” Tom started, glancing between them, irritation building. “Which one of you said that?”
“Me,” one of the figures replied, their voice muffled and indistinct, offering no clarity.
Tom's patience was wearing thin. “No, okay,” he said, frustration edging his tone, “whoever was just talking, raise your hand.” He waited, his foot tapping impatiently against the cold stone floor. But before he could get an answer, a third figure, a hulking demon with a deep, gravelly voice, interrupted.
“Master Tom,” the demon rumbled, his voice reverberating through the chamber, “Princess Butterfly has arrived.”
Tom’s heart skipped a beat as he spun around, the irritation of moments ago melting away. The elevator doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, revealing Star standing inside. The soft glow of the elevator’s light bathed her in a warm hue, making her blonde hair shimmer like spun gold. Her blue eyes, wide with wonder, took in the grandeur of the underworld’s grand ballroom. She seemed to murmur something under her breath—probably “Wow”—but the distance made it impossible for Tom to hear.
Without hesitation, Tom hurried across the room, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nerves. As he approached, he couldn’t help but take in her appearance—Star was breathtaking. She wore a dress that shimmered with a deep midnight blue, stars twinkling in the fabric as it caught the light. Her usual headband was replaced by a simple yet elegant horned tiara, befitting a princess of both worlds.
“Star Butterfly,” Tom began, his voice smooth and tinged with flirtation as he reached her, “Don’t you clean up nice!” His eyes sparkled with genuine admiration, though there was a hint of nervousness in his grin.
Star, however, didn’t seem to appreciate the comment. Her expression faltered slightly, her lips curving into an uncertain smile. “Uh, thank you? I guess…” she replied, her tone hesitant. Before she could say more, Tom thrust a small object towards her.
“I got you this,” Tom said, a touch of excitement in his voice as he held up what appeared to be a small, fidgeting creature—a demon-spider, its many legs twitching anxiously.
Star’s eyes widened in alarm as she instinctively backed away. “What is it?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern as she eyed the creature warily.
“It’s a hair thing,” Tom explained, trying to sound casual as he attempted to place the demon-spider on her head. The creature’s tiny claws reached out, trying to latch onto her hair. “It goes in your hair. It’ll help you fit in down here!”
Star forced a smile, though her discomfort was evident. “How sweet, Tom—” she started, glancing at the demon-spider with obvious unease, “But, yeah. I kinda got my own thing going on here.” She quickly sidestepped, moving away from Tom and the spider, and gestured to her horned tiara. “I’m pretty happy with it. Let’s go have fun now!”
Tom’s expression darkened for a moment, frustration bubbling up inside him at her rejection. His fingers clenched into fists, the familiar heat of his temper rising. But before he could let his anger consume him, Brian, his demonic emotional support bunny, suddenly appeared, as if out of nowhere. The small, fluffy creature was practically shoved into Tom’s face, its beady red eyes staring at him.
“You can be positive that your anger is negative,” Brian said in a calm, almost soothing voice.
Tom paused, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at the bunny. Slowly, he reached out, gently stroking Brian’s soft fur. The soothing sensation of the bunny’s fur beneath his fingers gradually calmed him, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had come. He took a deep breath, centering himself.
Star, noticing the change in Tom’s demeanor, smiled softly. She stepped closer to him, her earlier unease replaced by a genuine concern for her friend. “ Tom,” she began, her voice gentle, “You don’t have to try so hard to impress me.”
Tom glanced at her, his fiery eyes softening. “I just… I wanted everything to be perfect tonight,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability.
Star reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Trust me Tom trying to make everything perfect leads to a disaster Marck tried to make everything perfect for my birthday and-.”
At the mention of Marco’s name, Tom’s expression darkened slightly. “Marco, huh?” he muttered, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Star, oblivious to his sudden change in mood, continued with a fond smile. “Yeah, he’s always trying to make sure I’m happy. He’s really sweet, you know? And—” she hesitated for a moment, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks, “he’s got these really pretty eyes.”
Tom’s jaw tightened, jealousy flaring up inside him. “Sounds like you like him,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of accusation.
Star blinked, the blush on her cheeks deepening. “What? No, no, it’s not like that!” she quickly denied, waving her hands defensively. “Marco’s just my best friend. He’s sweet but like not that type of sweet you know”
Tom stared at her for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of deceit. But all he found was sincerity. With a sigh, he relaxed, the jealousy fading as he realized that Star’s feelings for Marco were just that—feelings for a friend. “Alright,” Tom said, his voice softening. “I believe you.”
Star smiled, relieved that the tension between them had dissipated. “Thanks, Tom,” she said, her tone warm. “Now come on, let’s go enjoy the ball.” She demanded as she led him over to the food table.
Star, her eyes wide with delight, grabbed a plate piled high with delicacies from around the world—each one more unusual than the last. “Tom, you have to try this! It’s a caramel-covered dragonfruit tart,” she said, offering him a bright purple pastry.
Tom, still adjusting to the surreal atmosphere, hesitated. “Dragonfruit?... It was supposed to be dragon eggs! Ugh, I need to fix this. This is all wrong,” Tom stated.
Star grabbed him, shoving the food into his hand, and grinned mischievously. “How can you say it’s wrong when you haven’t even tasted it? Here, try it!”
With a dramatic sigh, Tom took a bite, his expression quickly shifting from wary to amazed. “Okay, that’s delicious. I guess it can stay and—” Tom gasped dramatically, “What is that one?” He pointed to a towering stack of what looked like tiny, glittering cupcakes. “It was supposed to be—” Tom started, but Star didn’t let him finish.
Star’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Oh my god! Those are edible glitter cupcakes. They’re supposed to make you sparkle from the inside out! Agh, Tom, how did you know I’ve always wanted one of these?”
Tom paused, then chuckled. “Oh, you know, I guess that’s what makes me boyfriend material.”
Star playfully jabbed him in the stomach with her wand. “Don’t push it,” she said, then turned to pick up a peculiar-looking hors d'oeuvre. “Speaking of surprises, look at this—alien sushi rolls!” She held up a piece of sushi wrapped in vibrant green seaweed and topped with bright orange roe.
Tom took the sushi and examined it, snickering. “If I turn green and start speaking in alien tongues, I’m blaming you.”
Starburst into laughter, nearly spilling her plate. “Deal! But if you do, I’m taking credit for it.”
They continued to sample the bizarre and delightful array of food, each dish more extravagant than the last. Their laughter echoed through the hall, drawing amused glances from other guests who were busy mingling and dancing.
At one point, Tom spotted a quirky photobooth decked out in a ridiculous assortment of props—feathered boas, oversized glasses, and goofy hats. “Star, we have to try this!” he said, tugging her toward the booth.
Star raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. “Okay,” she agreed, surprised she was actually having fun.
They squeezed into the photobooth, and for the next few minutes, they donned feathered boas and oversized glasses, striking exaggerated poses and making silly faces as the camera flashed. When they finally emerged, their faces were flushed with laughter and their clothes askew, but their smiles were wide and genuine.
Tom looked at the strip of photos they’d taken, laughing heartily. “These are going to be framed souvenirs.”
Star’s laughter was contagious. “Oh, definitely!” She smiled, then paused. “You know, you really are trying to change,” Star said. Tom’s face flushed a little.
“I, yeah, my therapist said we needed a new Tom, so, um, here he is—or here I am trying to be,” he awkwardly shrugged. Star smiled warmly.
“Well, I could definitely get used to the new Tom,” Star admitted. Tom blushed deeply as Star went to grab another dessert, and he pumped his fist.
“Yes, I’m in!” he happily declared.
The night was drenched in an eerie glow as the red moon hung high in the sky, casting its crimson light over the land. The sky was clear, devoid of clouds, and the stars twinkled faintly, their light overpowered by the blood moon’s ominous presence. Marco sat alone in Star’s room, a place usually bursting with energy and laughter, now cloaked in an unsettling silence. He was slouched in a chair, his usually bright demeanor replaced by a brooding grumpiness. In one hand, he held a bag of tortilla chips, shoveling them into his mouth with little enthusiasm, while the other hand lazily adjusted the volume of the radio. The music played softly in the background, a faint, distant hum that barely registered in the tense atmosphere.
“I’m at my own Blood Moon Ball,” Marco muttered bitterly between bites, his words laced with sarcasm. He glanced around the room, which was filled with Star’s eclectic decorations, each one reminding him of her chaotic yet endearing presence. “In Star’s bedroom, where it’s always fun,” he added with a sigh, his tone dripping with irony as he shoved another chip into his mouth, the crunch sounding unusually loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Earlier that evening, he had changed into a suit, its design inspired by his Mexican heritage, complete with the sombrero he had reluctantly donned. The suit was meant to make him feel connected to his roots, a nod to his identity, but now it only made him feel out of place, as though he were wearing a costume rather than something that reflected who he truly was. The sombrero’s wide brim cast a shadow over his face, adding to the somber mood that had settled over him like a heavy blanket.
He sat there in near silence, the only sounds being the occasional rustling of the tortilla bag and the soft music from the radio. His back was turned to the balcony, to the world outside where the Blood Moon loomed large and foreboding. A portrait hung on the wall behind him, its subject a stern figure that seemed to watch over the room with a silent judgment. The blood-red light from the moon spilled into the room through the open balcony door, casting long, dark shadows that danced on the walls with each flicker of the wind.
Marco’s mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of Star and the Ball she was attending. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be there with her, watching over her as he always did. But something held him back, a mix of reluctance and a nagging sense that tonight was different, that the timing was off.
His musings were interrupted by a voice, deep and resonant, cutting through the silence like a knife. “Blood moon tonight,” it said, startling Marco out of his thoughts. He jumped in his seat, his heart racing as he looked around the room, eyes wide with surprise. The room was empty, as it had been moments before. He glanced at the portrait, half expecting it to have changed, but it remained as it was, the stern figure staring back at him in silence.
“Must’ve imagined it,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he returned to his snack. But as soon as he tried to settle back into his chair, the voice came again, clearer this time. “The moon of lovers.”
This time, Marco knew he hadn’t imagined it. He shot up from his seat, the tortilla bag falling to the floor as he stared at the portrait in disbelief. His mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. The room felt suddenly colder, the blood moon’s light more oppressive. He took a step toward the portrait, his breath hitching as he half-expected it to speak again, but it remained silent. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of the voice’s source, but there was nothing—just the small bell left behind by Star, its presence both comforting and unsettling.
A wave of regret washed over him. His decision to leave Star at the Ball now seemed like a terrible mistake. He knew she could handle herself, but the timing of everything felt off as if the universe was playing a cruel trick on him. He prided himself on being punctual, and on having a plan for every situation. But ever since Star had come into his life, those plans had been thrown into disarray, replaced by chaos and unpredictability.
Marco as he made up his mind.
Meanwhile, at the Blood Moon Ball, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The grand hall, adorned with dark, gothic decorations, was filled with a mix of humanoid and non-humanoid attendees, all dressed in elaborate costumes that ranged from the elegant to the bizarre. The air was heavy with a sense of unease, the partygoers’ frustrations bubbling just beneath the surface. Marco had managed to slip in unnoticed, his flimsy disguise blending in with the crowd, though the sheer oddity of the event was enough to distract even the most observant guests.
As he navigated the sea of demons, imps, and other creatures, he couldn’t help but smirk at the grumbling complaints that filled the air. The Ball wasn’t living up to expectations, and Marco couldn’t be happier about it. The undercurrent of dissatisfaction among the guests was palpable, and Marco took a perverse pleasure in knowing that Tom’s grand event was flopping.
A chilling voice, belonging to the demonic photographer, echoed through the hall. “S̠҉͍͊ͅḿ̬̏ͤͅỉ͔͖̜͌l̙͖̑̾ͣẹ̿͋̒̕,” it drawled, as it snapped photos of the couples present, a thick, pinkish liquid pouring over them as they posed. The liquid, Marco noted with a grimace, had an unsettling resemblance to blood. “B̬͖̏́͢ẹ̿͋̒̕ā̤̓̍͘ư̡͕̭̇t̲̂̓ͩ̑ỉ͔͖̜͌f̵͖̜̉ͅư̡͕̭̇l̙͖̑̾ͣ,” the photographer crooned, its voice sending shivers down Marco’s spine.
In front of the camera stood Tom and Star, an odd couple amidst the chaos. Tom, with a genuine smile, turned to Star and said, “I’m so excited to be covered in blood with you.” His voice was eager, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “But don’t worry, it’s not real. It’s from a unicorn.”
But Star wasn’t amused. Her face twisted into a frown, her blue eyes narrowing as she shot back, “My best friend is a unicorn.” There was a sharp edge to her voice, one that made Tom falter. He hadn’t known that detail, and it threw him off balance.
“Well, they’re not related,” Tom tried to assure her, his voice a bit strained. But Star wasn’t having any of it. “I’m not gonna bathe in unicorn blood, Tom,” she snapped, her tone final. She glared at him, and he returned the expression, his temper flaring.
As Star turned to leave, heading towards the drink table, she paused, noticing the way Tom’s hand had moved behind his back. Suspicion flared in her eyes. “What’s that hand doing back there?” she demanded, her tone accusatory.
“Nothing,” Tom replied too quickly, his voice tight with anger. But Star had already seen what he was trying to hide—a small, fluffy bunny that he had been petting to calm himself down. She looked back at him with disappointment, shaking her head. “Okay right~. I’m gonna go get a drink,” she said, turning away from him without another word.
Tom watched her go, his expression a mix of frustration and anger, the night taking a darker turn than he had anticipated. Marco, still watching from the sidelines, couldn’t help but feel a pang of satisfaction. Maybe the timing wasn’t off after all.
The thick, crimson liquid inside the cauldron bubbled ominously, sending ripples across its surface as a faint, sulfurous smell filled the air. Star leaned over, her eyes wide with curiosity, as she watched the murky depths intently. Her gaze locked onto a lifeless fish floating belly up in the concoction. Just as she expected, the fish gave a sudden twitch, jerking back to life with a frantic leap. Star’s face lit up with childlike glee. "Here he comes again!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. She waved enthusiastically at the fish as it bobbed up and down. "Hello, Henry!" she called out, turning to the person beside her with a bright smile, introducing the fish as if it were an old friend. "That’s Henry!" she announced proudly.
Before the person could respond, a sharp, bitter voice cut through the air, dripping with disdain. "You must be Tom’s date!" The words were spat out with such venom that Star spun around, her smile faltering as she faced two demons. The first one had an enormous face framed by thick, twisted horns, his expression twisted into an angry scowl. The other demon, whom she recognized from her earlier encounter near the elevator, towered over the first despite having a much smaller head and tiny, unimpressive horns. The big-horned demon's eyes burned with resentment as he glared at her.
"Guess I am," Star replied with a nonchalant shrug, her voice light but her eyes wary.
The demon’s fury only seemed to grow. "Well, I hope you’re happy!" he snarled, jabbing a finger in her direction as if to pin the blame squarely on her shoulders. "He made this whole Ball completely boring, all for you!" The accusation hung in the air like a dark cloud, thick with animosity.
Star raised an eyebrow, her defensive instincts kicking in. "I wouldn’t say it’s boring..." she began, trying to diffuse the tension.
"Oh, really?" the demon shot back, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Aloof, attractive people? Boring! Bubbling cauldrons—" As if on cue, he vanished from her sight, only to reappear inside the bubbling cauldron she had just been watching. His voice echoed eerily from within the crimson depths, "—that doesn’t even melt your flesh off?" He leaped out, dripping with the thick liquid, his rage palpable as he shook his fists. "What is this, nap time or something?! ‘Cause I’m bored!" His frustration reached a fever pitch as he pointed out the mundane elements of the party, from pieces of garbage that failed to destroy the universe to a cockroach casually scuttling away unharmed. Finally, he broke down, his anger giving way to a dramatic sob as he ran off, his wails echoing in the distance.
The second demon, who had been quietly observing the exchange, took a tentative step forward and asked Star in a surprisingly polite tone, "You wanna dance?"
Before she could respond, Tom swooped in, his firey wings flaring out as he landed between them, hand outstretched to block the demon’s advance. "Her dance card’s full," Tom declared, his tone firm as he narrowed his eyes at the other demon, his posture protective and possessive.
"Oh, I get it," the demon muttered, backing off with a resigned sigh.
Star, already suspicious, turned to Tom with a quirked eyebrow. "Since when was my dance card full?" she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. Tom only chuckled, clearly preparing to spin a tale to convince her otherwise.
The dance floor, once filled with swirling bodies, had gradually emptied, leaving behind a hushed silence that only magnified the tension. Marco, weaving through the disinterested crowd, could hear Star’s voice cutting through the air, standing out against the soft, haunting melody playing in the background.
As he pushed forward, the crowd parted just enough to reveal Tom, gently but insistently nudging Star toward the center of the room. Her reluctance was clear in the way she dragged her feet, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as if to shield herself. Tom’s eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he flashed her a wide grin. "I mean, I brought you all the way here. The least you could do is dance with me!" His voice was smooth, his tone almost playful. "I even remembered our song."
Marco’s ears perked up as he listened more closely to the melody. To his surprise, the song was decent, albeit a bit too princessy for his taste. Knowing Star, though, she was far from thrilled.
Just a few feet ahead, Star’s lips curved into a displeased frown, her arms tightening around herself as she sighed. “Tom, I’ve never heard this song before in my life, and even if I did, this song sucks.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Marco’s mouth as he whispered to himself, “I knew it.” There was a bitter twinge beneath his amusement, though, knowing that even if he liked the song, it wasn’t going to win over Star.
He caught a flicker of agitation in Tom’s expression, one of the demon’s eyes twitching as Star took a few steps back, holding up her hands to halt his advance. The crescent skylight above them opened wider, allowing sultry red moonlight to bathe the dancefloor. The sight sent a shiver of unease through Marco; he wasn’t entirely sure if the warnings about this particular moon were true, but either way, he needed to keep Star from doing something she’d regret. Just as she opened her mouth to continue protesting, Marco pushed his way through the circle of underworld denizens that had gathered around the dancefloor and reached for her hand attempting to grab stars attention.
Unfortunately, in his haste, he grabbed Tom’s hand by mistake. The demon’s lips curled into a smug grin as he yanked Marco onto the dancefloor, mistaking his approach for eagerness. As if on cue, the music swelled, the moonlight intensified, and Marco’s pulse quickened. Tom’s eyes widened in surprise, but before he could protest, Marco found himself caught in the rhythm of the dance.
“What the—wait, this wasn’t the plan!” Tom’s voice cracked with shock, and Marco could only stare at him, unsure of what to do next.
It was clear Tom had some grand scheme involving Star, but Marco decided he didn’t care. As long as he could keep her away from Tom, he’d deal with the consequences later. Steeling himself, he forced a flirtatious tone into his voice, though it felt awkward in his mouth. “Come on, hottie, don’t you want to seduce me like you succubi do?”
Tom’s expression shifted from surprise to irritation. “Okay, first of all, that’s racist,” he snapped.
Marco winced. “Oh, sorry.”
Tom shrugged it off. “Meh, I’ve heard worse. And second of all, no, dude, I don’t want to dance with you. I wanted Star.”
Marco wasn’t much of a formal dancer, but he wasn’t terrible either. Determined to keep Tom occupied, he pressed on, smirking despite himself. “Well, I don’t think you have a choice,” he pointed out at Ben who smiled brightly as the spotlight illuminated them. Tom looked mortified, and Marco, not understanding why, simply took the lead.
Tom almost stepped out but Ben shook his head and Tom clicked his teeth grinding them together in annoyance as he thought of murdering the man.
Tom’s dancing, however, was on another level. Despite the demonic surroundings—skeletons, blood, fire, and the overwhelming motif of death—Tom moved with a grace that felt out of place. Marco realized with a pang of guilt that the demon had likely been practicing, hoping to impress Star. As much as he disliked Tom, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of sympathy for the guy. But that sympathy vanished as Tom tightened his grip on Marco’s hand, just enough to be uncomfortable without disrupting the dance.
“667 years,” Tom sighed, his voice heavy with something like regret. “Can you even fathom how long that is?”
Marco’s heart skipped a beat as Tom suddenly dipped him low, the ground rushing up to meet him. He braced himself for impact, but at the last second, Tom yanked him back upright. The crowd murmured in approval, and Marco’s face flushed as he clung to Tom, albeit a bit more tightly than before. For safety reasons, of course.
“I’m guessing more than 7 times my lifespan?” Marco quipped, trying to ease the tension.
“Really? That’s pathetic.” Tom sneered, eyes glinting with disdain.
“Yeah, it is,” Marco agreed, moving in closer, matching Tom’s expression with one of his own.
Tom bristled, spinning Marco around as if he were a yo-yo, his arm the string pulling him back. “I’ve been waiting forever to make her mine,” Tom growled.
“She’s not a possession.” Marco pointed out.Tomflinched as if the comment burned him he was only pulled back by Marco who takes charge of the dance.
“ I didn’t mean it like that I ment she’s mine or ment to be mine—--Agh she will be mine! “ Tom tried to explains.
“Dude, you need help,” Marco whispered, eyes narrowing.
The crowd seemed to vanish from Marco’s awareness, leaving only him and Tom bathed in the crimson moonlight. Under different circumstances, the moment might have been almost pleasant, but all Marco could think about was how Tom was likely planning to set him on fire. Again.
Tom huffed, frustration evident in his voice. “I fucking know that, okay? Look, I don’t need some stranger who doesn’t know me telling me I have issues,” he snapped, his face inches from Marco’s. The proximity made Marco’s blush deepen, though he quickly masked it with a smirk.
“And I’ve been working on it,” Tom continued, softer now, almost pleading. “I don’t incinerate people that piss me off anymore. I don’t pressure or scare people…”
“That’s like the bare minimum and definitely false,” Marco cut in, his voice steady, though his heart raced with a nervous energy. He recounted the story Star had told him, how a week ago, Tom had greeted her with a bouquet, each flower gruesomely transformed into severed arms. When she declined his twisting, Tom slammed it into the driver’s face with enough force to break the poor man’s nose. The memory of Star's recounting sent a shiver down Marco's spine, but he kept his expression neutral, refusing to show any weakness.
Tom paused, their chests nearly brushing against one another, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, the fire within them burning brighter. The heat from his breath ghosted over Marco's face, almost suffocating in its intensity.
“How would you know?” Tom pressed his voice a dangerous whisper that sent a cold chill through Marco’s veins.
Marco hesitated, his gaze flickering toward where Star stood, sipping from her cup. He could only hope it wasn’t filled with blood—she had been known to indulge in that particular vice from time to time, and the thought turned his stomach. With a heavy sigh, Marco met Tom’s gaze again, noticing for the first time how the moonlight cast an eerie red glow on his own brown eyes. Tom seemed momentarily captivated by them, the red flecks reflecting in Marco’s irises, making them shimmer like dying embers. Tom had always been enchanted by Star’s eyes, but something about Marco drew him in, making his heart skip a beat.
“Because I’m Star’s best friend,” Marco admitted quietly, his voice softening as he reached up to remove his mask, revealing the face he had kept hidden. The fabric slipped from his fingers like a veil, fluttering to the floor between them.
The moment Star saw his face, she spat out her drink, the liquid spraying from her lips as her eyes widened in shock. “Marco!” she shouted, the surprise in her voice slicing through the tense atmosphere like a knife.
Tom’s reaction was immediate and furious. “You!” he bellowed, his voice a thunderous roar that echoed through the ballroom, rattling the very walls.
“Yes, me,” Marco replied, his tone resigned as if all the fight had drained out of him in that single, agonizing moment. The dance came to an abrupt halt, the music dying as quickly as Tom's temper flared. As the haze of the moment lifted, Marco became acutely aware of the silence that had fallen over the room. Every pair of eyes, glowing and inhuman, were fixed on them.
The tension in the room was suffocating, broken only by the rapid thudding of Marco’s heart, which felt like it might leap out of his chest at any moment. Tom’s grip on Marco’s hand tightened painfully, his face contorted with rage, eyes blazing with the fiery intensity of a demon scorned. The underworld denizens stood frozen, their twisted faces illuminated by the hellish glow of the moonlight that seemed to close in on them like a predator.
For a moment, Marco felt paralyzed, like a deer caught in headlights, every instinct screaming at him to move, to do something before Tom’s temper erupted into violence. The demon’s chest heaved with each breath, his anger simmering dangerously close to the surface. Marco knew he had to get out of there before it was too late.
“Tom, look—” Marco began, his voice trembling, but Tom wasn’t listening. The demon’s grip on his hand was searing now, the heat radiating from his skin like the sun. Marco winced, trying to pull away, but Tom yanked him closer, their faces mere inches apart.
“You’ve got some nerve,” Tom snarled, his voice low and menacing, each word dripping with venom. “Crashing my party, ruining my dance with Star—” He let out a bitter, humorless laugh that sent shivers down Marco’s spine. “What, you think you can just waltz in here and play hero?”
Marco swallowed hard, his mind racing for an escape plan. He could feel the heat intensifying, the air around them growing stifling, almost unbearable. Star’s worried expression flashed in his mind, and he knew he couldn’t let this escalate—not here, not now.
“I mean yeah! No? Kinda—” Marco stammered, but Tom cut him off with a sharp tug, spinning him around with such force that Marco nearly lost his footing. The crowd began to murmur, sensing the rising tension, but no one dared to intervene.
Marco’s thoughts spun wildly as he struggled to regain his balance, his feet barely keeping up with Tom’s aggressive lead. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any possible way out. He couldn’t stay here; he had to get away before things spiraled out of control. But Tom was relentless, his movements sharp and erratic, like a predator toying with its prey.
“Tom, let go!” Star finally shouted, her voice cutting through the tension like a lifeline. Marco twisted in Tom’s grip, yanking his arm back with all his strength. For a split second, Tom hesitated, his eyes widening as his grip softened, a flicker of something almost vulnerable passing through his gaze.
“I—” Tom started, but his words trailed off, unfinished, as his eyes flared with renewed anger. Marco’s heart skipped a beat as he noticed something red—tears?—dripping from Tom’s eyes onto his skin, burning like acid and making him hiss in pain. Tom’s grip slackened just enough as if he was contemplating letting Marco go, but before he could decide, Marco seized the opportunity.
With a swift, panicked motion, he broke free, stumbling backward and nearly losing his balance in the process. The moonlight seemed to close in around them, growing more oppressive by the second. Tom’s eyes widened in shock, his voice rising in a frantic scream.
“Wait, wait, no! FUCKING SHIT!” Tom yelled, his voice echoing in the sudden darkness as the light flickered back on.
“Marco, wait!” Star begged, her voice laced with desperation, but Marco didn’t hesitate. His instincts took over, and he turned on his heel, bolting through the crowd as fast as his legs would carry him. The underworld denizens parted hastily, some jeering, others laughing as he sprinted past, their twisted faces a blur of red and black in his peripheral vision.
He could hear Star’s voice behind him, arguing and yelling at Tom. “What is wrong with you? This is exactly why we broke up!” she shouted, her voice harsh and filled with frustration, but Marco didn’t look back. The heat from the dancefloor still clung to his skin, making him feel like he was fleeing from a furnace. His breath came in short, frantic gasps as he pushed through the heavy double doors at the edge of the ballroom, bursting into the cooler, dimly lit hallway beyond.
Marco didn’t stop running. His footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he dashed down the corridor, heart pounding in his ears like a war drum. The red moonlight from the ballroom faded behind him, replaced by the eerie, flickering torches that lined the walls, casting long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out for him. He didn’t know where he was going; all he knew was that he needed to get as far away from Tom as possible.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of panic and regret, the reality of what he’d just done crashing down on him like a tidal wave. Why had he thought it was a good idea to get involved? He’d only made things worse, for himself and for Star. He could only hope she wasn’t too upset with him, but that was a problem for later—right now, all that mattered was getting away.
The hallway seemed endless, each turn revealing another stretch of shadowy stone, but Marco didn’t dare slow down. His lungs burned, his legs ached, but the fear driving him forward was stronger than the exhaustion. He couldn’t stop, not until he was sure he was safe.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Marco spotted a small alcove to the side, a narrow staircase leading down into darkness. He hesitated for only a second before darting into it, taking the steps two at a time. The staircase twisted and turned, descending deeper into the castle’s depths, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick stone walls.
When he reached the bottom, Marco found himself in outside meet with the fresh night air cool and damp. He paused, leaning against the wall to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest.
He was nearly there, freedom within reach, when a sudden force yanked him back, a hand gripping the back of his jacket.
“Hey!”
Panic surged through Marco as he instinctively prepared to defend himself. If he was going to die at a formal event in the underworld at the hands of his best friend’s demon ex-boyfriend, he wasn’t going down without a fight. But before he could act, Tom’s hand snaked around his arm, twisting it behind his back with a firm, almost calculated precision. The demon pulled him closer, and though Marco couldn’t see Tom’s face from this position, he could easily picture the smug smirk that had to be there.
Biting his lip to stifle a pained gasp, Marco struggled against the demon’s hold. “If... if you’re going to kill me, just get it over with, man,” he muttered, his voice laced with resignation.
Tom’s response was unexpected, almost soft. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said, as if the suggestion itself was absurd. There was a pause, as if he was struggling to find the right words. “You weren’t... a shitty dancer.”
“What?” Marco blinked, utterly confused. “I mean, I just followed the beat of the song, so... thanks?”
Tom stared at him, his expression shifting between frustration and something else—something deeper that Marco couldn’t quite place. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, his fist suddenly slamming against the wall with a searing heat that left a scorched mark behind. “Agh, goddamn it!” Tom cursed, his voice thick with emotion. “Shit!” He paused, taking a shaky breath before muttering, “Sorry. Sorry, I... just get out of here already.”
Marco hesitated, caught off guard by the demon’s sudden outburst and the raw vulnerability in his voice. “I was trying to,” he pointed out, his voice gentle despite the tension. “You stopped me, remember? You’ve got serious issues, dude.”
Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know, I know... I fucking know that,” he admitted, his anger seemingly directed more at himself than at Marco. His shoulders slumped slightly, the fire in his eyes dimming as he wrestled with whatever was churning inside him.
“Walk it off, Tom... walk it off,” Tom muttered to himself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.
Marco watched him for a moment, a strange mix of pity and understanding bubbling up inside him. He could see the struggle in Tom’s eyes, the way his emotions were tearing him apart. “Okay,” Marco finally said, his voice softer now,. He slowly turned and began to walk away, each step feeling heavier than the last.
As he headed toward the exit, Marco couldn’t shake the image of Tom’s conflicted expression from his mind. There was something in the way the demon had looked at him, a flicker of something more than anger or frustration. A vulnerability that Marco hadn’t expected to see. And for a brief moment.
It wasn’t until Marco had left the corridor and stepped into the cool night air that he allowed himself to exhale, the tension finally leaving his body.
Tom watched him leave with a tsk, just as Star caught up to him. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she demanded, her voice sharp with concern.
“He does have pretty eyes,” Tom admitted with a defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping as he brushed past a now thoroughly confused Star.
Marco barely made it inside his house before he collapsed onto the couch, his limbs heavy and trembling. He felt as if his skin were buzzing, his head spinning, and his chest tightening with a sensation that was both familiar and foreign. It wasn’t illness, he knew that much, but it felt every bit as overwhelming. Without bothering to turn on the lights, Marco slipped through his bedroom window, his movements rushed and frantic. He made a beeline for the bathroom, where he hastily tore off his suit and mask, bundling them into a crumpled heap under the sink. For once, he didn’t care about the mess he was leaving behind.
His body ached with exhaustion as he stumbled back to his bedroom, slipping into his soft, worn pajamas. Marco huddled beneath the blankets and pillows, seeking their warmth and comfort. The bed felt like a safe haven, a small barrier against the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. He groaned, clutching his chest as if he could physically hold his heart together. Tom’s words and the look in his eyes replayed in Marco’s mind, making it impossible not to think about how close they had been—too close. It was almost too much to bear.
The door creaked open, and Star peeked in, her usual brightness dimmed with worry. “Marco?” she called softly, stepping into the room. She crossed over to the bed and sat on the edge, her hand gently brushing through Marco’s disheveled hair. “Hey, you okay?”
Marco peeked out from under the covers, his eyes wide and tired. “Not really,” he mumbled, though he managed a small, weak smile.
“Why did you come? I told you not to,” she asked. Marco groaned. “It was stupid. I know you could handle yourself, but I just—I don’t know,” Marco admitted. Star comforted him by sitting on the bed with him.
“Ugh, I shouldn’t have come. I’d never had danced with Tom. This was the worst choice I ever made,” Marco admitted.
Star’s lips curled into a sympathetic grin. “I don’t know, it wasn’t that bad. I got to know you were a pretty good dancer,” Star admitted, placing the sombrero on her head and tipping it down as she gave him a playful smile.
Marco chuckled. “And I bet Tom thinks the same,” she teased lightly, her voice full of warmth. “You two would make a cute couple, you know.”
Marco gagged, and he quickly shook his head, groaning again as he buried his face in the pillow. “That’s never happening,” he grumbled, his voice muffled.
Star chuckled, the sound soft and comforting. She lay down beside him, resting her head on the pillow next to his. “I know, but it would be nice if he could, I don’t know, change,” Star admitted as she looked up at the ceiling.
Marco sighed, the tension in his body slowly easing as Star’s presence brought him a sense of calm. “Yeah, agreed,” he whispered, his voice finally softening. The blood moon was still bright outside, casting a soft glow through the window, but with Star there, the night didn’t seem quite so overwhelming anymore.