Alone on a Balcony

A techno remix of “The Monster Mash” played throughout the house. A few of the partygoers were dancing, but most were just talking and drinking. Freddy Krueger made out sloppily with a zombie nun, and three separate Barbies were comparing costumes.

Everyone at this stupid Halloween party was having fun. Everyone except me.

I tried to mingle, but I just didn’t have the energy to introduce myself to complete strangers. I ended up out on the balcony, holding an empty Solo cup and pretending to drink something. It was cold out there, but at least I didn’t have to deal with anyone.

I pulled out my phone to see if James had texted. He should’ve been here by now.

He did leave a message: “Not coming anymore. Sorry. Have fun.”

I felt like throwing my phone off the balcony. My roommate was the only reason I came. He promised me this would be a chill, low-key hangout, not some huge Halloween rager. He also told me that costumes weren’t mandatory. And yet here I was, the only person without a costume, surrounded by dozens of people who didn’t want anything to do with me. Once again, James had screwed me over.

I waited on the balcony for a few lonely minutes, planning out the easiest way to get out of there without anyone noticing.

I was about to go back inside when the door creaked open and a man walked out. He was tall and blond. Absolutely gorgeous. He had the kind of pale blue eyes that would’ve been unnerving if the rest of his face weren’t so handsome. He was dressed like a pilgrim, or a puritan or something. He had a loose, black suit and a tall, buckled hat.

“Hey,” he said, surprised to see me there.

“Hey,” I responded. “I, uh, like your costume.”

He gave me a shy smile. “Thanks. And I like yours.”

I looked down at my clothes. I wore jeans and a blue sweater, an unremarkable outfit, especially in comparison to all the elaborate costumes inside.

“You’re a secret serial killer, right?” he joked.

“Something like that.”

Even though I wasn’t in the mood to mingle, I liked this. I liked him.

“Don’t worry,” he continued, adjusting his puritan hat. “I’m not going to burn you at the stake or anything.”

I tried to think of a witty response, but nothing came to mind.

He stepped closer, his pale eyes studying me. “Not much of a drinker, huh?”

He glanced at my empty cup.

“I… just finished some punch,” I lied. I was too embarrassed to admit that I was just holding an empty cup to help me blend in.

Slowly, he reached forward. I thought he was going to grab my hand, but instead, he stuck two fingers into my cup and felt the edges. “Seems dry to me.”

He’d figured me out. He knew I was faking it. Perhaps everyone else at the party did, too. God, I felt like such a loser.

“You’re not having fun,” he said. Not a question.

I shrugged. “I don’t know anyone here. And the people I sort of know… I don’t really like them. Plus, I’m the only one here without a costume. I just feel so…” He waited for me to finish my sentence. I looked away. “Alone.”

He smiled. “Well, you’re not anymore. I’m Simon, by the way.”

“Miguel,” I mumbled.

“So what brings you to a party you’re not invited to?”

“My roommate James made me come,” I explained. “He knows the people here. I don’t. But then he bailed. Again.”

I left it at that. I didn’t want to tell him that James was constantly putting me in these kinds of situations. James knew how much of an introvert I was, and he kept saying that he was pulling me out of my shell, but then he’d always find some hot guy to hook up with and leave me alone and uncomfortable.

“Well, there’s one person here who’s glad you came.”

I had to catch my breath. This guy was way out of my league, but he just kept flirting. I knew it wasn’t in my head. His pale eyes sized me up. The air between us felt warmer.

After a long pause, I knew I had to keep the conversation going. “So how do you know Trevor and Travis?” T and T, the couple hosting this event.

“Who?” Simon asked casually.

“So you crashed the party, too?”

He looked at me for a second, his expression blank. “Yes, but I came here for a reason.”

“Free alcohol?”

“I came here for you.”

He let the sentence hang in the air. It sounded like he was flirting with me, but there was an edge to his voice. Almost taunting.

“Thanks?” I mumbled.

“No. Don’t thank me. That’ll just make things harder.” The wind picked up a little, rustling the sleeves of his loose costume.

“Make what harder?”

He stepped closer, sliding his hand across the ledge until he reached mine. His skin was warm. “I’m going to kill you, Miguel.”

Neither of us said anything. The balcony was silent. Even the thumping music from inside seemed to quiet down.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I burst out laughing, pretending to enjoy his dark humor. “Very funny.”

He pulled his hand away. “No, I’m serious. You’re going to die tonight. I just haven’t figured out how yet.” He thought for a second. “Maybe poisoning, though you gotta have something in your cup for that to work. Maybe… Maybe I can just toss you off the balcony. We’re only two stories up, but if I angle things just right…” He was looking into the dark sky, not at me. “Naw. That would be too fast. I think I’ll just let you go. You’ll tell yourself that I was some creep messing with you, but then when you least expect it, I’ll, uh, stab in the back of the neck. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

“Dude,” I said, “what kind of game are you playing?”

“You tell me.”

I was done with this. Simon wasn’t trying to flirt with me at all. He was just some bully trying to scare me. He probably wasn’t even gay. “Okay,” I told him, inching toward the door. “Nice to meet you.”

He stepped in my way. Not threateningly. Just as a show of power.

“Let. Me. Go.”

Simon threw up his hands and moved to the side. “Suit yourself.”

I was about to reach for the doorknob, but I stopped and turned back to face him. I should’ve left, but curiosity took over. “You’re joking, right?”

He shrugged. His face was once again blank. All I wanted was an honest answer from him, but he wouldn’t stop these stupid mind games.

I knew I should leave, but my legs wouldn’t move. “And why would you kill me?”

“Because I have to,” he said. “But it doesn’t have to be you. Just somebody. I have quotas. So if you want… All you have to do is go back inside and send me a replacement. Anyone you choose. I’ll kill them instead.”

Silence.

“But if you don’t give me someone else, then I’ll have to pick you. No offense.”

I waited for him to drop the act and tell me he was joking. He didn’t.

“You have a sick sense of humor.”

“In my line of work,” he said, “I can’t have a sense of humor.”

“And what is that?”

“My line of work?” He smiled. “I’m a secret serial killer, too. Just looking for a victim that no one will miss.”

“Fuck you.” I never swore, but the words just came out.

He looked me up and down. “Tempting. But naw. I try not to mix business with pleasure.” His smile widened. He looked self-satisfied, like he was proud of scaring me.

I gave up trying to get answers from him. The guy was impossible. I walked past him, pushed open the door, and reentered the party. The room was surprisingly hot, but I still felt chills.

As I walked through the dancing and laughing crowd, no one noticed me. Simon was right. If I dropped dead then and there, the party would just go on without me. I glanced over my shoulder, but I couldn’t see Simon through the crowd.

I reached the front door, desperate to leave, but just as I opened it, someone appeared from the other side. It was James, dressed like Tarzan.

“Woah! You’re leaving already?”

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

He shrugged. “Changed my mind. I was supposed to meet up with some friends, but then I decided to come here instead. Glad I caught you before you left.”

And that was it. No apology. No questions about why I looked so upset. Just a casual admission that this party, the party he invited me to, was his fallback option all along.

“So,” James continued, “any hot guys here? Or have you been avoiding everyone again?”

All the unease I felt on that balcony dissipated, replaced by anger. I didn’t deserve this. Simon’s mind games were one thing, but James was my roommate. I spent more time with him than pretty much anyone else, and he always treated me like this. Like I didn’t matter. He didn’t care that he strung me along, over and over, when all I wanted to do was stay at home.

“Actually,” I said, “there’s a really hot guy in a pilgrim outfit on the balcony.”

James’s eyes brightened. “Yeah?”

“You should go out there. Tell him I sent you.”

James gave me a quick thank-you pat on the back. Then he hurried inside. That was the last time I ever saw him.

Originally published on Medium.