Roxanne's birthday is October the 23rd, and the first time she spends it with Syx and Minion, she turns eight and they go rollerskating.

Minion gives her a homemade Princess Leia dress. Syx gives her a working lightsaber. The next day, they all spend the night at Roxanne's father's apartment, where they watch Star Wars while wearing costumes—Roxanne is dressed as Leia, Minion as R2D2, and Syx as Darth Vader.

They wear those costumes again a week later when they go trick-or-treating together.

(Syx keeps his Darth Vader helmet on the whole time, until they get back to Roxanne's mother's apartment.)

The three of them go trick-or-treating together again, the year Roxanne turns nine. They decide that their costumes should be related, the way they were last year. Minion who has found that he really enjoys sewing, makes Roxanne's Little Red Riding Hood outfit for her, and his own costume as the Grandmother in the story. He helps Syx with the construction of his costume.

(Syx goes as the Big Bad Wolf.)

The year Roxanne turns ten, she's watching Sleeping Beauty with Syx and Minion when Syx mentions offhand that, while the M'ega translation of her name is 'my ocean, my beloved sky', the earth-languages meaning of 'Roxanne' is—

"dawn, or new day—" Syx says, and then nods at the television screen. "Like Aurora."

Roxanne goes trick-or-treating that year dressed as the Disney version of Sleeping Beauty.

Minion sews the dress for her, but it's Syx who creates a color-changing light matrix for the fabric that makes the dress go back and forth between pink and blue the whole time she's wearing it.

(it's science, of course, but the thing about Syx's science is that it seems kind of like magic sometimes.)

Minion goes as the woodland animals pretending to be Aurora's dream prince, which is pretty funny.

Syx goes as the dragon—he makes the costume himself, and the eyes and inside of the dragon's mouth glow in a really eerie way.

Roxanne doesn't think anyone else has noticed the way that Syx tends to cast himself as the villain whenever they choose costumes.

She's definitely noticed, though, and the year she turns eleven, she asks for costumes from Beauty and the Beast—the gold dress Minion makes for her is absolutely gorgeous. (Minion goes as Mrs. Pots.)

And of course Syx wants to dress up as the Beast, rather than Gaston. Wearing the Beast costume means that Syx's skin—and his head—are completely covered, and don't think Roxanne hasn't noticed that he always chooses costumes that do that, too.

The year she turns twelve, she suggests costumes from The Addams Family.

Her mother assumes that Roxanne will be dressing up as Wednesday Addams, but of course it's Minion who will want to dress as Wednesday.

Roxanne wants to go as Morticia.

"And Syx will be Gomez, of course," she says briskly, as though it's a foregone and obvious conclusion, but she's watching Syx out of the corner of her eyes, and she sees the way he jerks at the words, sees the way his mouth twists like he's bit into something bitter.

And maybe Roxanne isn't the only one who's noticed Syx's costume trends after all, because when she glances over at Minion, he's looking at Syx, too, his expression carefully neutral. Minion looks over at Roxanne, then, meets her eyes for a moment.

And then Minion clears his throat, gets up from where the three of them are sitting together on the floor, and announces that he's going down to the kitchen for more snacks, leaving Roxanne and Syx alone in her room.

For a moment, neither of them speak. Roxanne looks at Syx, who looks down at the burnt patch in her carpet beside his knee.

(he made that mark accidentally last week, updating Mr. Toasty's wiring.)

"I don't think," he says, at last, to the burnt patch of carpet, "that—me—as...as Gomez. I don't think that would work."

"Why not?" Roxanne asks, keeping her voice on the softer, gentler side of normal.

He still doesn't look up at her.

"I don't exactly—I wouldn't be—convincing."

"A costume doesn't have to be convincing to be good," Roxanne says.

She waits a moment, but when he still doesn't look up, she lies down instead, with her head on the burnt patch of carpet, and looks up into his face.

His mouth is an unhappy line as he looks down at her, and there are shadows in his eyes.

"My skin is the wrong color," he says.

"Different," Roxanne says, "it's a different color than Gomez's skin is. My hair's a different color than Morticia's is."

"I don't even have any hair," Syx says.

"Yeah, but the mustache is the important thing," Roxanne says, "and we can draw that on with eyeliner."

"My head is all weird," he says flatly. "I would just make you look weird."

"We're Gomez and Morticia Addams, Syx," Roxanne says, "we're supposed to look weird."

Syx is silent for a long moment, looking down at her. He's frowning, now. Not like he's angry with her, but just—unhappy.

Roxanne would rather that he was angry with her, to be honest. She'd know how to fix this, then; she could just apologize. She doesn't know how to fix this kind of unhappy.

"Roxanne?" Syx says, watching her expression closely, his eyes searching her face, "Why—why do you want me to do this?"

"Because," Roxanne says, "I kinda want to spend Halloween with you when you're not smothered in costume, Syx."

His frown of unhappiness and confusion only deepens; clearly he doesn't get what she's trying to say.

She takes a steadying breath, lets it out.

"Because," she says carefully, as gently as she can, "Halloween is supposed to be about fun. Not—hiding. I feel like you maybe think you need to hide? And you don't. I don't want you to feel like you have to."

Syx doesn't answer, but his face does that thing it does sometimes, that—flipping through a whole bunch of expressions one after another, too fast for her to follow—thing.

Roxanne thinks maybe Syx doesn't just think faster than other people, that maybe he feels faster, too. It's no wonder he gets twisted around and caught in his own thoughts sometimes, no wonder his feelings sometimes run away with him. Being inside his head must be like trying to harness lightning.

Roxanne reaches out and hooks two fingers in the sleeve of his sweater, twists them in the material, so that the backs of her fingers end up pressed to the back of his wrist.

Syx's expression settles—he looks uncertain, still, but his eyes are more focused on her face again.

"—people don't stare at me," he says. "When—when all they see is the costume. They don't see—"

He pauses, shaking his head in a frustrated kind of way. Roxanne waits for him to find the rest of the words he wants.

"—it's the only time I look normal," he says at last.

"Ugh, normal; why would you want that?" Roxanne says, tone blunt and disgusted, and then winces.

(unsympathetic and rude and inconsiderate and—)

She loosens her grip on Syx's sweater, preparing to sit up, preparing to apologize.

Syx gives a startled kind of laugh.

"—sorry," Roxanne says, "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that; it was—"

"You," Syx says, eyes dancing with what looks like genuine amusement.

"—mean," Roxanne finishes, "it was mean."

Syx shakes his head, laughing and biting his lip like he's holding back a smile.

"You're so—I like you so much, Roxanne," he says.

Roxanne makes a guilty face.

"I don't know why," she says.

"This!" Syx says, cackling with laughter and shaking his head. "This is why! You really meant that!"

Roxanne looks up at him uncertainly. He gives her a lopsided smile, raising his eyebrows at her.

"—I mean, yeah, I did mean it," she admits. "I—I don't see why you'd ever want to be normal when you get to be you instead. Sorry."

Sys bites his lip, his smile going wider.

"Ssss," he says, making that hissing sound that means affection in his language. "You are my best friend, Roxanne. You're fantastic."

Roxanne relaxes again, twisting her fingers in his sleeve once more.

"Ssss," she says. "You're my best friend, too, Syx. And we don't have to do the costumes if you don't want to."

He makes a humming noise, and tips his head, frowning again, but in a thoughtful kind of way this time, instead of an unhappy one.

"I...I think I might?" he says, eyes focusing on her again. "Want to, I mean? I hadn't been—thinking about it, the way that you put it...but now—"

"Are you sure?" Roxanne asks worriedly. "I know I get bossy. I don't want to be bossy. I'm sure it does get tiring, having stupid people staring at you all the time."

"—do you get tired of it?" Syx asks, his voice hesitant. "Of—I mean. Of people staring at you when you're—with me and Minion?"

Roxanne frowns.

"I mean, I get annoyed sometimes because it's rude," she says honestly. "But that's a—a thing that's wrong with them; it's not a thing that's wrong with you and Minion. And I don't—I don't ever get tired of being with you."

Syx smiles at that, one of his smiles that start off small and shy.

"I don't ever get tired of being with you, either," he says.

Roxanne's chest feels tight.

"Cara mia," Syx says, in a tone that is suddenly very—

(Roxanne's stomach does an—utterly inexplicable swooping thing and—)

"To live without you, only that would be torture—Oh, no, wait—" Syx adds, in an ordinary voice.

He places his index finger across the line of his upper lip.

"Cara mia," he says again. "This is the mustache, see?" he adds, waggling the finger above his lip slightly in illustration.

Roxanne rolls her eyes and ignores the inexplicable swooping stomach—thing which is still happening for no apparent reason.

"Yes, thank you, mon amour," she says, voice utterly dry and deadpan. "I figured."

Syx laughs.

"I think we'll stick with eyeliner for the real thing, though," she adds.

Minion comes in, then, with more snacks.