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Your name is Eugene Stein and tonight is going to be the best night of your life. Tonight is the night that you will finally know what it feels to be loved, again.
Her name is Molly, and she’s the prettiest girl in the Senior class, in the entire school, probably. Which is – it’s nice, but you’re really excited about the fact that she had planned this night so perfectly for you. This isn’t going to be some date at the diner or at the mall, surrounded by other people and bored out of your mind. No, the two of you are going to spend a brisk night outside of town, looking up at the stars.
She’d given you all the details yesterday in math class. The Maize Maze. Midnight. She’d bring the blanket and some snacks and meet you at the entrance, the two of you would go into the center together and stargaze, and there she would show you the feelings she’d been harboring for you for months, years, apparently.
The whole thing sounded… perfect, and it gives you butterflies to think that she’d gone to this length for you… Honestly, it sounded almost too good to be true – and a big part of you worries that it is, but an even bigger part of you clings to the hope that there’s someone out there that wants you like that. Wants to love you.
She even left her previous boyfriend for you – which also… is a bit of a big worry, because Theo Gallows the Third already had enough of a target on your back as it is – but you were ready to take that risk for this.
You park your bike right at the entrance to the Maize Maze, the rows and rows of corn swaying in the wind – as a shiver passes through you, you’re glad that Molly said that she’d bring a blanket. Everything is dimly lit, only the secondary lights illuminating the path between the stalks – it’s tough to see your surroundings, but it will make looking at the stars so much easier.
“Molly!” You call out, your voice echoing through the field’s clearing, bouncing back off of the trees bordering it, “I’m here!”
It’s only a few seconds later that you see her stepping out of the shadows, a knit jacket over her shoulders and her red hair up in a ponytail. Her hands are empty – maybe she forgot the blanket? Either way, your confusion disappears as she steps closer with a smile and a, “Hey there, Eugene.”
“H-Hi Molly,” you feel heat creep up the back of your neck at your stutter, “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” she steps closer, now in your personal bubble and your face is turning red for an entirely different reason now. Her hand is on your cheek – she must be able to feel how hot it is. This close, you can smell her perfume, something floral – like roses and sugar and just a little too strong so it makes your nose tickle like you are about to sneeze. God, you hope you don’t sneeze on her.
And then everything is blurry, reduced to blobs of shadowy color that flicker in the lamplight. You can’t see the smirk on her face. You certainly can’t see the shadows creeping from the trees around you, also smirking and exchanging excited glances.
“Uh, M-Molly, I can’t see without my glasses.”
If you thought that she would hand them back, you’re wrong, instead her blurry form retreats, “You’re looking kinda hot and bothered, there Eugene,” her voice sounds… that’s not teasing. There’s a nastiness to it that sets off alarm bells.
They’re proven right as you hear that awful, familiar drawl, “Let’s cool him off then.”
The next few minutes are confusing and terrible. You’re being snatched up by the scruff of your hoodie, a ring-clad fist is delivering an explosion of pain to your left eye and cheek, and then you’re falling, falling into something small and dark and wet and cold. It’s some kind of plastic bin – the type that you remember your parents using to store your old baby clothes – and it’s halfway filled with icy water that almost immediately sends your body into shock.
You can still hear the laughter as a lid slams down on top of your head, forcing you down further and almost shoving you face first into the water. Two faint snaps tell you that the lid is latched and you’re stuck – there’s not nearly enough space for you to muscle it free.
There are multiple muffled voices above you, laughing and jeering and high-fiving – Molly and Theo, and probably Theo’s football buddies, Mikey, Freddy, and Chuck. Someone, maybe Chuck, had enough forethought to drill a little hole in the lid – it’s about the size of a dime, just wide enough for you to see a thin beam of light from the lanterns outside.
You know it’s useless, but you try to beg them to let you out until you feel the entire bin shudder with what must have been a kick and a snap to ‘stop being dramatic’. From that point, you’re too scared to make much noise, you only listen as they discuss what to do with you next. It’s tough, because they’re all whispering and chuckling, like they want to keep it a secret. Like it’s funny.
You do hear the word ‘center’, though.
Moments later, you feel the tub being hoisted, the water sloshing around you and soaking anything that hadn’t already been in seconds. The laughter you hear is right above and around you – the tub is being carried somewhere and they aren’t being gentle about it. They take sharp turns, swinging the tub wide and throwing you around inside. It’s one of the most miserable experiences they’ve ever put you through and the further they walk, the more you get the sinking feeling that it’s nowhere near over.
They mean the center of the maze.
You don’t know if they take several wrong turns on purpose or not, but it takes a long time for them to finally drop the bin with a heavy splash that sends water in your eyes and up your nose.
The lid above you suddenly sags down, as though someone had sat down on top of you – luckily, the air hole is left unobstructed. You hear Theo’s voice directly above you, “Man, Eugene, you should really see this view,” he whistles mockingly as you hear muffled laughter from the others, “Nothing but crystal-clear sky, as far as the eye can see. Y’wanna come out, nerd?” He raps his knuckles against the lid, as though inviting you to just. Step out and join them, “No? Eh, that’s fine.”
“Four-eyes probably couldn’t see that much without those glasses anyway,” you hear Mikey joke and the rest laugh.
“Too bad.”
The cruel taunting continues for a bit, a generic blend of nerd and fag jokes mixed with digs about your current situation, until Freddy eventually groans from somewhere to your right, “C’mon, man. Mol’s probably getting bored back at the truck and I’m freezing my balls off.”
Hearing the other two agree, a small, stupid, part of you hopes that this whole thing will be drawing to a close soon. From above you, Theo sighs and the lid's pressure lifts – he must’ve stood up. You wish that you could stand straight right now, your limbs and back are beginning to cramp from being stuck curled up for so long.
“Fine, yeah. This is getting kinda boring for me too – you guys head out and I’ll set Poindexter here free.”
Relief floods you as the other three’s footsteps disappear into the distance – you’ll even take whatever beating was awaiting you as soon as the lid was free, just as long as you weren’t stuck in this icy prison anymore.
You wait.
And wait.
And… wait.
Just as the dread is building within you once more, wondering if Theo had just left as well and you were now stuck here, he speaks, slow and thoughtful.
“Y’know, my old man’s told me stories about past Whistling Nights through the years. Mostly boring shit – but there’s one that he was always really squirrely about: the first one,” here, his voice picks up, an excitement in it that almost makes you wish that he’d just left, “He told me about it this year though and y’know what? I bet that Barrow kid was kinda like you, huh faggot? A little blip, swept under the rug and forgotten by the whoooole town.”
Barrow.
You’ve heard that name before, but you can’t remember where or what he means by it before the tub around you is violently kicked onto its side, then again until both you and the tub are fully upside down and you’re resting on the lid. You’re soaked in a fresh wave of icy water, just barely keeping your head above and coughing up what you’ve accidentally inhaled.
Theo must crouch after that, because you can hear his voice coming in close, “I wonder where Pops will hide away your body.”
At hearing the glee in his voice, your pleas to be set free die on your tongue and a dread as cold as the water settles in your gut. Very quickly you realize that any leverage you might have had was taken by the new, awkward position, and the air hole is also now pressed flat into the ground beneath you.
You’re trapped.
Only then do you hear his footsteps retreating into nothing. And then you’re alone.
For the longest time, all you can hear are your own panicked breaths bouncing off of the solid plastic walls of the tub, trying and failing to think of a way out. Even if the cold water doesn’t kill you, soon enough you’ll run out of air – dimly, you realize that your hyperventilating isn’t doing you any favors, but there really isn’t much you can do about that.
You try calling for help, but it doesn’t seem to do much more than waste air and leave your voice hoarse. You think that you hear things like shouting and footsteps, but you’re not sure that your panicking mind isn’t just making them up, your own cries echoing back at you.
By now, the only part of you that feels warm are the hot tears on your face, dripping down to join the rest of the water.
Some indeterminant time later, you hear footsteps approach – and they have to be real because they sound loud. In fact, they stop right next to you and stay there.
It’s silent.
Despite the terror that it might just be Theo, back with some worse idea on how to kill you, you still have to try, “H-Hello?”
Silence.
“Is anyone o-out there?”
You think it really is just another figment of your imagination until you hear and feel a light thump reverberate through the side of the bin, and hope flares anew in you. This has to be a person – another person. Neither Theo nor any of his cronies could ever stay quiet like this.
“P-Please! Whoever you are, please l-let me out!” You sound pathetic even to your own ears, voice shaking and thick with tears, “It’s s-so c-cold and it’s getting hard to b-breathe.”
Another minute passes and you mentally hold your breath – the air is getting too thin for your lungs to feel up to the real thing – before the bin is slowly, gently being rolled back onto its side, then upright. That little beam of light is back and before you can even think of desperately pulling air in from it, the lid is being unlatched and you’re free.
At first, it’s almost overwhelming – the flood of crisp, blessedly fresh air that almost burns your lungs with the gulps you’re taking, and even the dim light of the lamps nearby seems to sting at your eyes after so long of straining them in pitch darkness. But after a few moments, you get your bearings enough to take note of the tall, broad, dark figure standing over you.
You can’t make out anything about your savior besides the vague shape of him – and it must be a him, but he could be the Boogeyman for all that you cared. Breathlessly, you thank him for saving you, not minding that he doesn’t reply. And when you try to stand on shaking, numb legs that immediately give out on you, a warm pair of arms reach out to catch you before you collapse back into the water around your ankles. They continue to steady you as you cling to him and step wobbily out of the bin.
You wish that you could actually see the face of your hero as they silently begin escorting you to what you imagine is the maze’s exit, but resign yourself to your imagination. You imagine strong features for the strong hand that’s holding yours, dark eyes to match the dark hair that you think he has, and find yourself even more curious about him.
“What’s… What’s your name?”
“Henry.”
Oh. Oh, his voice is deep. Not like he’s much older than you, but there’s a bassy rumbling that gives you chills… or maybe that’s just your still-dripping clothes.
“I-I’m Eugene.”
“I know.”
You flush, thinking that Theo and his goons must’ve been talking about you pretty loudly for him to have heard your name from wherever he was. You try not to think about what he might have overheard.
“Not that I’m ungrateful, but what brings you way out here so late?”
He’s quiet for a moment before shrugging, and you take it that that’s all you’d get on it. You don’t want to tell him that you were here for a fake date, a set up that you fell right into, so that kind of makes it fair. And… wow it really was just a setup, that a loser like you had been tricked into thinking that he’d actually found someone to love him. Someone to look at the stars with.
“Henry?”
“Hm.”
“Do you think the stars ever feel lonely up there?”
The man pauses, clearly looking up at the brightly lit sky, so clear out here away from the town’s light pollution. You wish that you could see them as well tonight. His head turns back to you and tilts in confusion, so you clarify.
“They look so close together from here, don’t they? But really, they’re hundreds of billions of miles apart. Some have planets. Some don’t. Some are dying and some are being born from the remnants of that death. And they’re all doing it completely alone...”
It’s then that you realize the two of you are just standing there, quietly curse yourself for making things awkward and try to laugh it off, “Sorry, I’m just being ridiculous. My teachers always say I have my head stuck in the clouds.”
But Henry is still looking up at them, and you feel his hand gently tighten on your own, “That’s sad.”
You swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, “Yeah.”
A hand at your back gently nudges you to resume walking, “Can you tell me more about the stars?”
You can do that. You spend the next who knows how long telling Henry about the constellations that should be overhead, with him quietly confirming every one that he finds. It feels like it should be a game, but it’s so quiet apart from the two of you, so peaceful, that it edges closer to intimacy.
Once the two of you exit the maze, the wind is so much stronger that you physically flinch from it. It’s awful, the way that the breeze bites at your exposed skin and your soaked clothes leave you feeling frozen through – and then you’re surrounded by the most delicious warmth. It takes you a solid minute to start processing again, to realize that Henry has wrapped you in a long, body-warm coat. His coat.
The blurry, dark shape of the truck looks… oddly familiar, but too out of focus for you to place. You’re too busy trying to keep your face from combusting, anyway. The rush of blood and heat makes the spot where Theo had punched you throb.
Once again, you don’t see the figures in the shadows around you. You don’t see Molly, laying several feet from the truck’s passenger door, bruises blooming around her crushed throat. You don’t see Mikey slumped against a tree, a wide red gash across his throat. You don’t see Freddy or Chuck in a little heap by the entrance to the Maze, the former’s neck twisted around at an unnatural angle and the latter’s face beaten in with a crowbar. And of course you don’t see Theo – he’s somewhere in the depths of the Maze itself, stabbed in the chest seventeen times.
You don’t see any of this – instead, you’re gently guided into the truck and left to buckle yourself in as the passenger door shuts beside you. Eventually, Henry climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the truck with a soft rumble – it must be a nice truck, given the quality seats and engine – before stepping back out and closing the door. You hear something being put into the truck bed, but take the moment to just relax into the plush bench seat beneath you and the warmth of the coat around you.
Slowly, the cabin heats up, and by the time that Henry is sliding back into the driver’s seat and putting the truck into drive, you are feeling warm and sleepy – but there’s something niggling at the back of your mind, “You know… Theo mentioned something when he trapped me in that tub that’s really been bothering me.”
Henry doesn’t say a thing, and you idly wonder why this is what you’ve decided to talk about with this total stranger on the way back to town. “He said… He told me that he wondered how his dad would cover this one up. It’s been bothering me… more than the thought of him wanting to kill me. And… he said a name. Barrows.”
You don’t notice Henry tensing up, or that the air in the cab suddenly feels thicker – anticipatory.
“I don’t know if you’re new around here, but this town has a… bad history with this night every year. Folks call it Whistling Night, and it’s pretty much an excuse for teens to pull awful pranks all night long,” you huff a humorless laugh, “I guess I should’ve seen the warning signs ahead of time, but…” You force yourself to continue – it’s a mistake you’ll never make with that group again, “Anyway, Theo mentioned something about the first Whistling Night, and a Barrows kid. I think he meant George Barrows.”
You hear the breathing pick up next to you, but you’re not sure why and now that you’re saying it aloud, the pieces are clicking together in your mind too quickly for you to pay him much mind, “George’s death was always ruled an accidental drowning… but the way that Theo spoke of his father… I wonder if Mr. Gallows… killed him,” the words feel like battery acid on your tongue, but it makes so much sense why your parents always avoided the man when they were still alive, “like Theo wanted to kill me?”
Horror slowly claws its way up your throat as it finally clicks that if it weren’t for Henry, you would have met the same fate as George Barrows. Soon tears are streaming down your face anew, your heart aching for the boy – seventeen, just like you – that wasn’t rescued, “That… That poor kid. He must’ve been so scared. A-And for what? Some joke? Some stupid prank? It’s sick.”
Henry only nods in understanding, probably not knowing the whole story but you do now and you’re so grateful that he was in that cornfield tonight, “Thank you Henry – for saving me, and taking me home.”
“Where is home, exactly?”
“Oh, right,” You can tell that you’re blushing a bit, “Woodside Apartments.” Your apartment is more of a closet with a bathroom, but you’re grateful that the landlord was so willing to let you board for free, as long as you helped him when his computer acted up. Feeling a little relaxed and emboldened by the relief of almost but not dying, you decide to ask, “So, what brings you to Gallows Creek, Henry?”
“… The past,” he finally offers.
You sigh, tucking your knees up and resting your chin on them, “It feels like the past has been a pretty big part of tonight, huh?” You’re not sure, but you think Henry laughs a little – just a huff, but it’s enough to make you smile, “And what about the future? Any plans for that?”
“Not… really.”
You hum in understanding, “I think I’d like to leave this town one day – I want to study the stars and I’ve heard of an observatory way out in Beaver Creek, a few states over. It surrounded by nothing but trees and nature reserves for miles around, and far enough away from this place that I’ll never find my way back.”
“That sounds… nice,” Henry sounds thoughtful as he pulls up to the apartment complex and parks.
In a matter of moments, you’re standing on the curb and squinting around at the sudden brightness that the streetlight above casts around you. Your bike is set on the curb and you’re equal parts amazed that you’d forgotten about it and grateful that Henry hadn’t. You turn to thank him–
And your breath catches in your throat as Henry– The Whistling Man steps forward, looming over you and you dimly wonder if he’d really towered over you this much during the walk out of the Maize Maze.
It’s all you can do to watch that mask get closer and closer – and then get pushed upwards so that a pair of warm, chapped lips can meet your own. It’s an inexperienced kiss – you can tell, but that’s okay because you’ve also never kissed anyone before. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing into it, closing your eyes and tilting your head to get a better angle and feeling a hot tongue run along the seam of your lips, before Henry pulls away and the coat over your shoulders does the same. A familiar weight settles on the bridge of your nose. By the time that you’ve opened your eyes again, you see the mask is back in place, as the truck pulls away and disappears down the road.
You’re left standing there, lips tingling and glasses placed askew on your flushed face. It’s only when the wind starts to pick up and remind you that your clothes are still wet, that you wander into your apartment, take a warm shower, and lie in bed, staring at the popcorn ceiling until sleep takes you.
Years later, you’ll be standing in front of a telescope, gently tuning the focus until the image is as crisp as it could get. You’ll step back into a warm, strong chest, feeling its owner lean forward to take a look into the lens. Out of the corner of your eye you’ll notice a bit of blood flecking the park ranger’s badge on his shirt, and make a mental note to soak the laundry tonight.
But for the moment, you’ll ignore that and whisper, just for the two of you, “I finally found my binary star. This is Beta Lyrae, or Sheilak… can you see both stars orbiting each other?” You’ll feel him nod and you’ll smile, “They’re tied together, bonded by gravity… they’ll never be alone.”
Hoping he’d remember, hoping he’d understand what you’re trying to say.
The tender kiss pressed to your lips will tell you that he does. You’ll be able to feel his own smile in it and for a while after that you’ll lose yourselves to each other.
And as the two of you will be walking back to your little cabin, you’ll find yourself happily musing. Yeah, that night all those years ago really had been the best of your young life. It was the night that you found true love.