Work Text:
The black heavens above pulsated, string-like lightning and the powerful voice of thunder ignited the sky. The whetted edges of the bolts coruscated in the night’s air, casting a flickering shadow that blanketed the ground in darkness. A manor owned the imposing gloom that surrounded its foundation, lighting up dramatically whenever one of Nature’s fulminations struck the Earth. The wind whipped leaves and dirt into passive ‘tornados’.
Standing in front of a darkly-painted, mahogany door, were three silhouettes. One had pounded on the wood only moments before, under the cover of rumbling thunder. A lock being removed made itself heard, as the metal brushed against the entrance. Warm light flooded out onto the porch, blinding the three people.
Inside the building stood a man, formally dressed from head to toe in a basil green suit. Azure eyes accompanied a soft smile on the person’s face. It was the type of grin that was impossible to resist mirroring. Blond hair was tied in a simple ponytail at the back of his head, falling just above his shoulders. His eyes flicked across two familiar faces and one he’d never seen before. The man brushed it off, smoothen down a stray hair as he composed a sentence in his mind.
“Welcome, Mr and Mrs Innit. I’m glad you two could make it. May I ask, who’s with yo-“ he was cut off by the two adults walking in, barging past him. The woman already taking her expensive coat off, revealing a maroon gown with golden accents underneath.
“I hope you don’t mind us bringing our son along, Phil. We just can’t leave him in the house alone after last time,” Mr Innit spoke, pulling his son inside. The younger dug his hands into his pockets, wishing to be anywhere but there. He watched as the polite host faltered, something odd flashing swiftly past his eyes. The teen knew he wasn’t wanted there, just by how the older’s demeanour changed at the sight of him would’ve been enough to tell him.
“It’s fine, really. We will find somewhere for him to sleep for the nights. You don’t have to worry,” that was a lie, and the young boy knew it. It wasn’t fine, clearly.
“I knew you’d be fine with it, Phil. You were always too nice, I say,” Mr Innit said matter of factly. He hung up his jacket, knocking off someone else’s in the process. Phil picked it up the discarded one, placing it onto one of the higher hooks.
He watched solemnly as the married couple got directed to where the other guests congregated down the hall. The man let out a sigh, fixing his suit.
“Sorry about ‘em. It’s not just you that they’ve done this to,” the teen grumbled awkwardly, rocking back and forth on his heels. Phil spun his head around to face the kid, surprised about the apology.
“It’s alright, mate. What can you do about it? What can you do?,” the man asked rhetorically, beginning his way down the hall. The teen hurried behind him, his eyes tracking the entirety of the corridor. To the boy, the shadows seemed to twist and curl as he walked, reaching out to his ankles with spindly fingers. He wasn’t superstitious, but if he was, he would say that this place was certainly haunted.
“I’m Tommy, by the way,” the teen introduced, jogging to catch up with the older man. He didn’t want to loose himself in the never ending rooms of the mansion, and staying close to the owner would definitely prevent that.
“Phil, but you already know that, I assume.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you though.”
=~•~=
Was it possible for a hallway to never end? Tommy would’ve laughed in your face if you had asked him before that night, but now he was starting to believe that such was a real phenomenon. Phil and the teen had been conversing for the majority of the time while walking, but the chatter soon died down in favour of complete silence. Tommy didn’t like it. When it was quiet, he was left with his thoughts, and his thoughts alone. Before he could overthink about the odd nature of the older man, he was brought into a room full of bustling guests.
Alcohol lingered in the open air of the grand hall, reaching Tommy’s nose in an instant. The roof was arched, with a chandelier hanging motionless from the centre. Beautifully carved, limestone pillars supported a balcony that over looked the ballroom. Stone walls were plastered with cream paint, and the floors were polished to the point they shined in the humming light of the chandelier. Sporadic strikes of lightning could be heard from inside, making the room feel ten times colder each time a bolt hit. Boisterous laughter reverberated around the room, as adults drank like it was the end of the world.
Tommy noticed a man who was clearly the most drunk out of the lot. They were swaying on their feet, stumbling over nothingness, and spilling the red liquid onto the clean floor. The teen didn’t know how Phil could put up with such guests, and for a whole two days. God, Tommy shivered thinking about that. He had to spend two days in this definitely haunted house, and that’s not even counting that night. It was a good thing that the host was polite, or else he would’ve left there and then. Maybe he should’ve.
Phil began to walk away, heading towards two men (neither older than 20), with a smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Tommy couldn’t see their faces, but he could tell that one had curly, hickory hair and the other had wavy, rose tresses. The teen was sure it wasn’t natural, it couldn’t possibly be. They both wore similar suits, one being crimson and the other being mustard coloured. Safe to say, Tommy preferred the red one. He didn’t dare spend too long staring, and instead opted to scan the crowd for his parents.
It didn’t take long for Tommy to spot them. He didn’t make a move to join them in where they stood, however. The teen chose to stare around the hall again instead. Nothing had changed, obviously, but he did notice something odd. Up on the ceiling sat a very precarious beam. It was clearly out of place, and looked ready to plummet at any given moment. Tommy stepped to the side, not wanting to be the unfortunate one to get crushed by the useless support. He refocused on the crowd, before locking eyes with one of the men Phil had left to talk to. They were the one with the curly hair.
The younger couldn’t make out the other’s eye colour, as the warm light caused them to seemingly change whenever they shifted. The man, much like Phil, wore a soft expression, but it came off as too soft to be genuine. Maybe he just kept it to be polite. He was definitely taller than the teen, and was easily taller than Phil. That man was the one wearing the mustard suit.
Tommy didn’t let up the eye contact, not wanting to loose the competition the man had unknowingly started. It dragged for a moment too long, and the youngest still didn’t falter. Silently, he celebrated his victory, when the older finally turned away to talk back to the other two. A grin made its way onto his face, certain that was going to be the most exciting thing to happen that night.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy noticed Phil straighten his back, looking ready to speak. He must’ve actually spoke, but from the deafening noise of the guests, his voice got lost in the sea of sound. The teen sighed. People could be so rude sometimes. It was drunk chatter and laughs, so Tommy couldn’t fully blame the sober versions of the guests. It still annoyed him, though. What’s so great about alcohol anyways?
A loud crash reverberated around the hall, echoing in the bare room. Tommy was dragged from his thoughts by the noise, causing him to shudder. His vision ceased its blurring, focusing like normal after a couple of seconds. He noticed the room was plunged into silence, and he wondered whether someone had just broken something extremely expensive. It wouldn’t be surprising.
The teen swivelled his head to face where the noise derived from, his eyes falling onto the man wearing the crimson suit. In his hand was the remnants of a shattered plate. Where he got the plate from, Tommy had zero idea. It was most probably used to gain the attention of the party, which it definitely succeeded in doing. Phil began to speak, again.
...
Tommy didn’t pay much notice to the speech, finding much more interest in staring at the floor. Although not listening, he could’ve probably made a very educated guess on what it was about. It was probably about how Phil was ‘happy’ that all the guests could make it, and yardi-dardi-da. Maybe he was being ignorant and rude, but no one could hear his thoughts so it didn’t matter much.
Somewhere through the address, Tommy must’ve dozed slightly. Who could blame him, though? He was bored out of his mind. At home, he could have snuck out to meet with Tubbo and Ranboo, or even Purpled for all he cared. He could’ve caused chaos downtown in the morning. Maybe he could’ve even gone to Niki’s bakery, or spent time with Jack. But no, he is forced to spend two whole days with drunkard adults, who will definitely be groggy and hungover in the morning. It didn’t matter now, he was already there. He was thinking of sneaking out in the middle of the night, when a hand being placed on one of his shoulders jolted him quickly out of the idea.
“You alright there, mate? You just dozed off,” the host pointed out. Tommy must’ve looked like a fool, just staring at the older with thoughtless eyes. He blinked rapidly, before putting on a clearly strained smile.
“Yeah, sorry. Bit tired, y’know,” he reasoned, scratching the back of his head guiltily. He didn’t want to annoy the host, because he actually had a sense of respect for the man. It seemed like he was the only one that did at this party. Tommy managed to wiggle his shoulder out from under Phil’s hand, before scanning the now empty ballroom. When did they all leave?
“If you’re wondering, everyone has gone to the dining hall. You should probably go there to.”
“Oh shit, sorry. Am I keeping you away from your host... job-thingies?”
“It’s fine. My sons are also hosts, don’t panic yourself about it.”
‘Sons?’ Tommy restrained himself from asking, giving the man a simple nod instead. He hoped it didn’t come across as blatantly rude, and by the way the man’s smile never failed it didn’t seem like it did. The teen looked over the older, realising he looked no older than 30. If he had kids, they surely couldn’t be older than 14. Tommy hadn’t seen anyone close to his own age, nor a less someone younger. Unless he adopted. That was the only logical way that the host could have sons older than Tommy. Or he could’ve just aged well, but the teen doubted that.
The boy was led through a shorter hallway, leaving the grand ballroom behind them. Shadows contorted on the floor, snapping out of the blond man’s way and closing back in around Tommy. His skin tingled whenever the dark fell onto his person, confusing him. He hurried up, before falling into step with the older. Tommy couldn’t deny that he did move closer to the man, but if the man cared he didn’t show it. This time, they spent the entirety of the walk in an odd silence. It wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t not, you get it? It was strange, but it didn’t last long enough for it to become a problem in the younger’s mind.
The walk lasted for maybe 2 minutes, 3 minutes at a push. Phil pushed the heavy door wide open, standing at the side as to allow the young teen inside. He walked through, mumbling a ‘thank you’ as he passed through. As soon as he entered, his eyes immediately landed on the massive table in the direct centre of the room. It was beautifully designed with intricately carved out patterns. The wood was painted a dark mocha colour, along with the chairs. Upon the table was the most amount of food Tommy had seen in one place, and he’s been to church during the harvest festival. This room’s smell was completely contradictory to the ballroom, which made the teen feel drunk just from standing there. Tommy scanned the people that sat at the table, noting that there were 9 people there, that’s including his parents.
The teen stared up at the ceiling, noticing a chandelier that was off centre and hanging above one of the guest’s head. Tommy would’ve refused to sit there, not trusting the chain holding up the mass of metal. The more he squinted, though, the more he could see it was actually glass. The rest of the room looked like a shrunken down version of the ballroom, apart from the elegant stained window. If Tommy didn’t know better, he’d say he was at church. His family wasn’t poor, far from it, but this was just excessive.
Maybe Phil was so happy all the time because he lived in such a grand place. Tommy knew he would be ecstatic to live in such a manor. Well, maybe he would if it wasn’t haunted. Okay, maybe he is a bit of a skeptic.
Phil tapped his shoulder, before pointing over to one of the free chairs at the table. It was like they were expecting someone to randomly show up. He walked his way over, plopping himself down in his seat quickly. Tommy watched as Phil sauntered over to his own chair, relaxing into it once he got there. He sat at the head of the table, which wasn’t much of a surprise, with the two men he had been talking to either side of him. It clicked in Tommy’s head that these must be his sons. They were obviously adopted, looking nothing alike to the man. Tommy had been sat down in between someone wearing a plain white shirt and suspenders, and someone wearing a parakeet suit.
The teen awkwardly glanced over to the one wearing suspenders, noticing they couldn’t be much older than him. Tommy spotted a beanie placed gingerly over his hair, which was odd for a fancy dress occasion. The boy couldn’t say much about formal wear, a feeling of being underdressed quickly seeping over him. He hadn’t had time to change before being dragged there, and so he sat in his red and white baseball tee and beige cargo shorts. The shorts were a mistake on his part, as goosebumps displayed on his bare legs.
“Hey, you good?” A voice queried from beside him. Tommy shook his head free from his thoughts, before turning to face the suspender-wearing man.
“Yep, I’m good. You?” He rushed out, trying to act natural. It caused the man to laugh an awkward chuckle, which Tommy mirrored.
“Have we met before? It’s unlike the Watsons to invite people that no other guest seems to know.”
“Oh, no we ain’t. My parents got invited, and I was forced to join because I nearly set the kitchen on fire last time I was left alone.”
“Heh, well most of us, apart from Bad over there, went to school with Wilbur and Techno. Weird names, am I right?”
Tommy was about to answer, enjoying not being ignored, but was interrupted by a laugh. Well, more of a cackle. The one doing so was the man in the parakeet suit. The teen hadn’t seen it before, but the man was wearing a white face mask with a sewn in smily face.
“Oh Quackity, you have no room to talk about weird names,” he laughed again, wiping away imaginary tears. Tommy picked up what the man had just called the other, and he couldn’t suppress the grin that twitched the corners of his mouth. ‘Quackity’ frowned at the interruption, before smirking to himself.
“Alright Dream. You’re so right, my name is weird, Dream. I wish I had a normal name like you, Dream,” Quackity sarcastically fired back.
“At least my actual name isn’t Clay.”
Tommy held back his laughter, a hand clenched in a fist and covering his trembling bottom lip. Both of the bickering adults caught notice of it.
“What’s your name then, kid,” Dream asked, expecting a completely ridiculous name.
“Tommy. My name is Tommy, bitch.”
“Oh. You can’t really make fun of that, to be fair.”
Tommy smiled triumphantly, letting his built up laughter out. If he could become friends with these two then maybe his time here won’t be as bad as he first anticipated. He listened as Quackity and Dream told him about the other guests and even the hosts. The other guests were as followed: ‘Sapnap’, ‘Bad’, George and Tommy’s parents.
Sapnap was supposedly an alright man, best friend of Dream.
Bad was the completely wasted one, and the one sitting under the chandelier. It made sense to Tommy why he hadn’t refused to sit there now.
George, in all honesty, could’ve been mistaken for someone around Tommy’s age, but supposedly he was one of the oldest there. Debatable, was all the teen said in response.
Wilbur, one of Phil’s sons, was roughly the same age as George. He was quite nice, apparently. Charming, some may say, but Tommy would just call him a pretentious wanker, from the description he had been given.
Techno, in Tommy’s humble opinion, was the coolest. He supposedly beat Dream in a fencing tournament, which was cool in itself. His hair was also apparently natural. Like how is that not awesome. How many people do you know that have naturally pink hair? None! He had to be stopped from asking more questions about the man by Quackity.
Tommy’s stomach grumbled, and he just realised no one had even touched the food. Why? The teen glanced at the empty plate, sitting on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and taking something. Was there a reason? His stomach groaned in hunger again, this time slightly louder. Oh how he wished to possess the power to cover the noise.
“You hungry there?” Quackity asked, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small bag of M&Ms without waiting for an answer. Tommy made a start to protest, but his stomach betrayed how he truly felt. The bag was pushed into his lap from under the table. It made him feel like he had just got given drugs, and if he had, well, he wouldn’t complain.
“Thanks, Big Q,” Tommy whispered, making up a nickname for the man. He opened the bag without a rustle, before picking one up and plopping it in.
“They always do this. They let us talk for like 10 minutes, then they give out the food. I think it’s to let it all cool down, it always worth the wait,” Dream stated, sneakily taking one of the chocolates out of the bag and eating it. Tommy lets out an offended gasp, punching the man directly in his bicep, giving him a dead arm.
The teen’s eyes wander, landing on the three hosts at the front. He saw Wilbur (was it?) most likely complaining to Phil about the wait, then Techno joined in. The older blond just sighed, before getting up from the table and standing there. Tommy hid the bag of chocolate further under the wooden surface, slapping away Dream’s hand from the packaging.
“Alright, I think that’s enough waiting,” a smile crossed his face and a glint gleamed in his eyes, “Dig in.”
A strike of lightning produced a white ominous light near the stained glass window. The light gets fragmented into the room, and the rumbling roar of the thunder resounded off of the walls. The chandelier shook, and the light fizzled out from above the party. Tommy’s grip on the M&Ms tightened, as the dining room was plunged into darkness. A ghostly wind breezed through the hall, and a swinging sound from above made Tommy’s muscles tense. Then something snapped.
The thing plummeted through the air, and in a second it crashed. A chair gave way, and the sound of something thudding onto the floor could be distinctly heard. Footsteps passed where Tommy sat, leading to the hairs on his neck to spring up like daisies. They passed and soon they became non-existent.
The sound of shuffling made itself heard, and the clinking of glass let something no short of dread settle into the teen’s ravenous stomach. He sunk deep into his seat, crinkling the packet in panic. Footsteps passed again after a few minutes, much quicker this time. Tommy’s heart pounded relentlessly in his chest, shaking his bones to their cores. He tugged a hand through his blond strands of hair, as his breathing ran miles at a time. He wanted to curl up and disappear into the cool floor. Lightning spluttered outside again, and the growling of thunder followed not long after.
“I’ve found a pack of matches, everyone. Don’t panic. I’ll go and light the candles on the walls, just stay calm,” the voice of Phil hurried out, striking a match as to prove his point. It sizzled duly, before it lit up surrounding candles. Tommy settled when he realised the footsteps must’ve just been Phil, but he made no attempt to get up. The room soon returned to its original light levels, and sighs of relief circulated the room.
Tommy pulled himself up, his hands sweating as he ate one of the M&Ms. He almost chocked when the sound of someone screaming echoed across the hall. The teen turned his head to face where the scream had sounded from, and realised it was his mum that made it. He stood up from where he sat and followed his mother’s gaze with apprehension. He wished he hadn’t.
“What the fuck!” He couldn’t help it. It was the first sentence that grazed his mind after dragging seconds of silent shock. His voice had cracked at the sight. It became apparent to multiple other guests as to why the woman had screamed, and why her son yelled. The teen was mortified with the sight, as were many others.
Bad (was he?) laid surrounded in what Tommy hoped was wine. It wasn’t, obviously it wasn’t. Red left the man’s head, painting the polished ground in crimson. Glass pierced his skin, and his neck was one of the areas shards laid permanently lodged in. It didn’t seem like it had happened on accident, especially from the placement of the fragmented shards. Blood dripped from the side of the man’s mouth, overflowing from his throat. Iron replaced the gorgeous smell of food, reaching the other guests’ noses.
Tommy couldn’t focus, his grip on the table and bag of chocolate increased. He felt sick. He couldn’t stare at the cadaver much longer or he would’ve vomited. On shaking legs, he took a few steps back as his eyes shot across everyone’s faces. Sick stuck to his tongue, unable to forget the body that laid only a few metres away. All the reactions seemed fair, some cried and others just stood there in shock. Tommy’s eyes landed on Phil, wanting him to do something. Anything. Phil stared right back, as if expecting the younger to look at him. Tommy couldn’t tell what the host was feeling, nothing but slight startled shock portrayed on his face.
“What the fuck happened?!” Quackity shouted to no one in particular. Tommy tore his eyes away from the older man, and glanced upwards, noticing the lack of chandelier. It didn’t take long for him to piece it together. He seemed to be the only one that did, however.
“I think the chandelier fell on top of... Bad? Was that his name? It must’ve fallen and caused his chair to break underneath the added weight. Although, I can’t imagine these chairs are that week, and the way the shards seemed to be in his neck it doesn’t seem like an accident...” Tommy thought out loud, peering down at the poor drunkard who now laid lifeless. He didn’t even get to talk with him.
“So you think he got... murdered?” Wilbur asked, pausing before he even uttered the word. Lightning struck as he did so, shaking the ground.
“That’s quite a serious thing to imply without evidence,” Gregory... no, George said, moving away from the corpse. He slipped in the blood, catching himself on the table. White glasses slid down over his eyes.
“I highly doubt it, Tommy. Phil has good judgement on people, he wouldn’t invite a murderer. Also, how would a murderer even get up to the chandelier. You’re probably paranoid,” Dream assured, rubbing the younger’s back to calm him down.
“Well I am not staying in a place with such negligence. I’m sorry but me and my family shall be off. Come here, Tommy,” the teen’s father demanded, and Tommy didn’t waste any time in dilly dallying. He was certain that something sinister was at play, and if he could get out of this house before whatever it was got him then all the better. The teen passed by the three hosts, feeling something odd when he did. He payed the thought no attention, brushing it aside in favour of getting out of the manor.
“We can bring you to the door, if you like,” Wilbur suggested, walking over to the three. Techno followed behind his brother. Tommy still held the M&Ms in his hands, acting offended when Wilbur steels one. He was tempted to punch his arm, like he did to Dream, but decided against it.
“Well, come on then.”
=~•~=
“Why won’t the door open?” Tommy’s father asked, tugging on the sleek ring door handle. The two younger hosts glanced over to one another, as if expecting it.
“Yeah, it does that sometimes,” Techno spoke nonchalantly, pulling lightly on the door three times before giving up. It was like he wasn’t even trying to get it to budge. Tommy had finished his M&Ms by now, having stepped on Wilbur’s foot after he tried to steal one multiple times. He didn’t like having nothing to distract himself with, and now his mind wouldn’t let him relax.
He had seen a dead body. He had witnessed a death. A murder? No, that is stupid. It couldn’t be a murder, could it?
Sure, he immediately suspected that something was off with the death, claiming that it had to be a murder, but now? How could a murderer knock the chandelier down to begin with? It didn’t make much logical sense. Also, it didn’t seem like anyone had any foul words to speak about Bad, so there would be no point. Not enough reason to risk getting caught and being thrown into prison.
The hallway in which Tommy stood in felt off. Eerie, even. His nerves were far from settled when the door refused to open. He was tired and oh so hungry, that he just wanted to go home and forget that this night ever happened. Fate seemed to have other ideas.
“It’s getting late, I think we should just go back to the others and get something in our stomachs. Yeah?” Wilbur suggested, already turning on his heels and walking away. Tommy’s parents didn’t look overly thrilled, but god was Tommy happy to get out of this god forsaken corridor. Much like Phil, the shadows seemed to make way for his sons, and close behind them.
=~•~=
“Oh, you’re back,” the oldest host exclaimed after turning his head around to face them. Tommy’s father didn’t look very pleased, along with his mother.
“Door wouldn’t open,” Techno announced, heading towards his chair and flopping down into it.
“Oh, that’s no good then, is it?”
Tommy didn’t spend much time standing up, rapidly moving to his seat in between Dream and Quackity. Whilst walking, Tommy noticed the lack of blood and, well, death. It was odd. Had the body already been disposed of? Did this happen often enough that it could be so easily dealt with? Maybe that was why Phil didn’t seem very worried. The manor is probably ancient, so such mishaps may not be that uncommon. Did that settle Tommy’s nerves, no. In fact, it made them worse.
He sat down swiftly, pressing himself into the wooden chair. Quackity looked over to him, before placing a cooked chicken leg onto the younger’s plate. Tommy gave him a simple smile, not wanting to be rude. Although hunger savagely ran through his body, he couldn’t bring himself to even take a bite. It looked delicious, but the image of Bad never left his mind. He opted to just clutching his belly and resting his head on the cool surface of the table instead.
“Do you not like chicken?” Tommy heard Quackity ask, poking him in the shoulder.
“I do, just can’t eat.”
“At least try,” Dream butted in, nudging the other with a bony elbow. Tommy slapped it away, but he did pull his head off the table. He picked up the food, and picked away at it with his teeth. By the time he was finished, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything else. It was a shame, really. The food was amazing, Tommy couldn’t deny that. He spent the rest of the time talking to the two men, almost forgetting about the situation. Key word: almost.
The teen stared to where the man had been sat, before staring up. How could something fall without any cause? Was it the lightning? Tommy let his head flop over the wooden back of his chair, shutting his eyes as he tried to discard the thought to the back of his mind. It wasn’t until Phil announced the time did Tommy move from that position.
He jolted up, shaking his brain inside his skull. Supposedly, it was about 12 o’clock at night, which confused the younger. They had only gotten there at 9. How was it already 12? They hadn’t been there that long, had they? He heard someone complain about being tired to one of the hosts, but Tommy didn’t pay attention to the response given. That was until Dream dragged Tommy up from his seat, startling the younger.
“Wakey wakey, Tommy. You can go asleep when you’re actually upstairs,” the man shook the teen’s shoulder, which resulted in a backhand slap. Tommy stretched out his arms, pushing Dream in the face as he did so.
“Fuck off, man. When are we even going to go?”
“Now...”
“Oh.”
=~•~=
Like Phil had promised, he had found a place for Tommy to rest for the night. It was in one of the ‘small’ guest room, and furthest from the stairs. When I say ‘small’, I mean small according to rich standards. The bedroom was supposedly 16ft x 18ft, and abnormally modern compared to the rest of the manor. It had a spindly, Persian white chandelier hanging above the foot of the bed, which had an inky black frame with stone grey covering. A shining black, portable candle holder sat beside the bed with an unlit wax candle sitting there. By its side was a box of matches, unopened. A great window reached from the floor to a few inches from the ceiling. It looked out through grand trees that loomed around the mansion.
As soon as Phil had left the room, the chandelier’s light flickered out, as a rumble of thunder coursed through the open sky. Tommy stumbled in he dark, reaching the bed after tripping over a fluffy rug that had rode up. He fell face first into the mattress, feeling himself get consumed in the softness of it. He buried his way under the covers, pulling the sheets closer to his body. The air around him felt statically frigid, but the heat from the bed felt slightly unbearable. He rolled around, every way he turned feeling even more comfortable than the last. It didn’t stop the heat from feeling too much, but not enough at the same time. His ankles felt stiff, like they were in dire need of warmth. Tommy didn’t want to turn his back to the door, but he didn’t want to turn his back from the window. He hoped snuggling closer into the bed would ease his paranoia.
It didn’t. He laid his back flat against the mattress, pulling the sheets off from his body. It didn’t help that he was agonising hungry, and that he had somehow developed heartburn. The teen rolled over to face the window, just in time to see lightning strike down not far off into the forest. Tommy couldn’t stop himself from getting up now, having tried to restrain himself from doing so. It wasn’t new news to him that he wasn’t going to get any sleep at this manor, but he had tried.
He tip-toed over to the window, having kicked off his shoes before jumping in the bed. Tommy hadn’t changed out from his clothing, as he was unable to see anything.
His feet sunk into the softness of the rug, and it seemed to absorb heat into its fibres. He got to the window, placing one of his pale hands onto the glass. It sent chills through his body, causing him to flinch away. He scanned the window for a handle to open it, hoping that he could just sneak out, albeit scared of the lightning that struck so close to this building. The teen noticed a sleek black one, and he trudged over with a small grin plastered in his face. That smile soon fell when the glass wouldn’t budge, much like the front door. It was as if the house was holding all the guests hostage.
Tommy stumbled across the room again, deciding to light the candle in its holder. A flame flickered to life when the blond struck the match across the box’s side, before letting the sparks dance their way onto the candle’s wick. He extinguished the match, laying the dead splint onto the top of the box. The licking of the flame produced little light, but it was enough for Tommy to gather his bearings. The young boy remembers Phil saying something about night wear in the wardrobe, which the host had provided every room with. He hobbles across the room, his feet shuddering when they hit the bare floor.
A faint creak came from the rustic oak wardrobe door, which heightened Tommy’s already frantic heartbeat. As Tommy peered inside, he found simple pyjamas hanging up. He couldn’t see what colour they were, and so he cautiously pulled them off of their coat hanger. Unsoundly, he walked back, hugging onto the silk outfit. Was anything in this manor not expensive? Tommy assumed not.
He laid it out on the creased bed cover, his face lighting up in the warmth of the flickering and dancing flame. Now, he could see that the night wear was a deep navy colour, with a large pocket on one side of the chest area. Tommy stared over to the door, making sure no one was there, before throwing on the clothing as quickly as possible.
Once it was on, the top hung limply from his body, swamping him entirely. The trousers were sizes too big, but luckily could be tightened around his hips. The legs fell to the floor, covering his feet. The silk was cold against his skin, indicating they hadn’t been worn for a while. It smelt of roses, the smell must’ve stayed situated in the material. He wasn’t complaining. The teen folded his own clothing up, placing them at the end of his bed once he was done.
His stomach growled, and he eyes the door, refusing to leave the safety of the room. He goes to extinguish the candle, but a small thud from in the hall stopped him. Then it was quiet. Tommy’s breath was caught in his throat, suffocating him slightly. Again, he went to extinguish the candle, but a creek sounded out this time. Sweaty hands gripped the bed sheet he sat on, as he focused solely on listening. 5 minutes passed before a thud, louder than the first, resonated off of the walls and floorboards. He eyes the door again, before taking in a deep breath. Forcefully, he released his restricting grasp on the bed cover, and pushed himself up on shaky legs.
Tommy wiped his hands down the too long trousers, before lifting up the candle holder. Steadily, but fearfully, he edged closer to the door, his hands trembling. When he got to the door, he reached his free hand out to the door knob, shaking uncontrollably. He stopped halfway.
“Why am I doing this to myself?” he whispered out, as if surprised with his own actions. Sweat clung to his forehead, but he wiped it away with the back of his hand. Again, he sucked in a breath, before clamping his hand down on the door handle. He twisted it, causing it to swing open.
“Oh fuck this,” he muttered exasperated with himself. Laying in front of him was the hallway, shrouded in heavy darkness. His candle burnt proudly and strongly, filling him with meagre bravery.
“I can do this. I can do this. I don’t know nobody, I can do this,” he confirmed uncertainly. He stared back into the bedroom, before taking a step away from the safety of it. Then another. Then another. With fake bravery, he strode down the hall, looking for the cause of the noise. Alarm bells ran violently in his brain, as a cold phantom breeze passed by him. Still, he pulled through, focusing on anything but his thoughts.
“Woah... is that an actual sword?” Tommy breathed out, bringing his candle closer to the glimmering metal. It was hung up carefully onto the wall, along with daggers and even an pickaxe. He reached out and touched the chilling blade, making sure to not graze one of his fingers across the edge. A floorboard behind him groaned under someone’s weight, and Tommy immediately brought his arm back. He held the candle close as his eyes darted around in the blinding darkness. Nothing moved in the dark. Was it a murderer that made that noise? A ghost? Oh god.
“Who’s there?” Tommy murmured, voice shaking from fright. All his facaded bravery crumbled away, revealing his true timidity underneath. He brought the light further away from his body, letting the candle reveal the surrounding hall. Tommy could feel how heavy his breathing had become, and the pounding of his heart echoed through the corridor. The phantom breeze returned, causing him to shake uncontrollably.
“Calm yourself down. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack if you don’t,” a voice laughed out, which barely settled his breathing. He brought the candle over to where the voice had come from, relaxing into himself at the sight of one of the hosts.
“Jesus Christ, man. Was that you making all that thudding before?” Tommy hissed out, hands unable to stop their trembling. Wilbur (yeah, that’s his name, right?) arched an eyebrow, before pushing circular framed glasses up further onto the bridge of his nose. The man thought for a second, before looking down at the blond teen.
“Heh, I thought that was you making the noise.”
“Well, it weren’t. You better not be pulling my leg, or I’m kicking you right in the di...”Tommy got cut off by another thud from an undisclosed location. He moved closer to the older as if by instinct, which caused the man to laugh. The teen couldn’t muster up a snarky remark, so instead he chose to give the man a death glare, which only made him look less threatening than a judgemental duck. It went quiet in the hall, and Tommy never moved from where he stood.
“You seem really jumpy. Why don’t I give you a tour around the mansion so you calm down a bit, yeah?” Wilbur suggested, motioning towards the stairs in the dim light of the candle. Tommy stared up to the man, before looking back from where he came. The hall was pure darkness that way, and Tommy knew full well he wouldn’t fall asleep. He glanced back to the host, feeling something odd settle into his stomach. Distrust? Hunger? Tommy didn’t know.
“Alright, as long as we make a stop at the kitchen because I am starved.”
Wilbur laughed, draping an arm around the younger’s shoulders and guiding him skilfully through the darkness.
=~•~=
“And that’s that. Are you still terrified of this place?” Wilbur asked, glancing down at the teen, who was munching on a sandwich the older had made. Tommy raised a finger up, as if telling the host to wait a second.
“Yep, still despise this place. I swear I saw a ghost down one of them never ending corridors,” Tommy spoke with certainty, popping the ‘P’ at the end of the word ‘Yep’. Wilbur rolled his eyes as he climbed the stairs upwards, followed by the teen.
“You’re such a child.”
“And you’re such a bitch.”
Wilbur went to say something against the other, but stopped at the sound of something thudding heavily not too far away. He stared down at the teen, sighing a sigh of relief when he realised it wasn’t the younger plummeting down the stairs. Tommy was trembling though, his sandwich still half eaten in his hand. He was holding onto a plastic box in his other arm, which was filled with food raided from the kitchen.
“What was that?” The blond questioned, his grip on the box increasing. Tommy felt his heart increase in speed again, feeling much happier that he wasn’t alone this time. To be honest, he just wanted to go back to the room and eat. Supposedly, Wilbur said he’d join him, saying how he wouldn’t be sleeping anyways. The host hurried up the stairs, followed by Tommy, who didn’t want to be alone. The teen runs behind the man, never letting him leave his sight. He had given the host the candle, and Tommy would be damned if he was left without the light source. He watches as Wilbur swung open a door, like he knew exactly where he was going. Maybe he just had really great hearing.
Tommy leaned against the door frame with a huff, but couldn’t bring himself to take another breath in. Someone stood in the room, covered head to toe in darkness. Wilbur and Tommy could only stare as the figure exited through an open window, with a strike of lightning signalising their escape. The host stepped into the room, staring out into the night, until he heard a shuddering gasp from behind him. He turned to see Tommy quivering like a leaf, staring wide eyed at blood soaked sheets.
Upon those sheets laid the corpse of Quackity. His body had been pierced with holes that ended deep inside his muscles. Blood still trickled out from the wounds, but none seemed to be fatal. That was until you looked further up. Transpierced through his face was a pickaxe, entering through his chin and exiting through his left eye. His right one was wide open in terror, and his mouth was ajar as it dripped with blood.
“What the fuck happened here?!” Tommy and Wilbur turned around in unison, staring at the owner of the voice, Sapnap. The teen was still shaking, holding himself in a hug. Wilbur was the one to actually answer the question.
“Someone murdered Quackity while me and Tommy were heading back to his room. We got here to see someone exit through the open window,” he hurried out, facing a disbelieving Sapnap.
“Is this true, Tommy?” Sapnap asked the younger, who was clutching onto the plastic box. He couldn’t speak, and instead chose to nod. He had been right. There is a murderer, and he had seen them. So had Wilbur, he wasn’t going crazy. Tommy frantically stared up at the sound of more footsteps. It seemed like all the guests were there now, even Phil. The teen couldn’t spot Techno, but just assumed that he must’ve been asleep still. Wilbur told the explanation again, as Tommy felt sick to his stomach. He was going to die. He was sure of it. Some time passed and the teen couldn’t force his eyes away from the floor.
“Hey mate. Why don’t you go back to your room, yeah,” Tommy’s head snapped up at the sound of Phil’s voice. The older had placed a hand on his right shoulder, dragging the younger back into reality. Tommy couldn’t talk, but gave the man a nod before leaving.
All the lights were on in the halls, which confused Tommy. How could they all be on so quick? He didn’t give it another thought, as he held onto the box and sprinted to the room he was to sleep in. He wasn’t going to sleep now, he just knew it. The chandelier in his room was on, somehow, but it seemed like he didn’t acknowledge the oddness. He shut the door, before placing the transparent box down onto the bedside table. The teen curled up onto the bed, his heart frantic in his chest. It hurt his ribs. Tommy felt ready to cry from the immense distress he felt. Quackity was dead... Quackity was dead. Just like Bad. Who was to say he wasn’t next? The murderer, clearly.
The door to the room open, which caused Tommy to shoot up from where he laid curled up into himself. His breathing had ceased, until he saw who was actually at the door. It was Wilbur, and that let him relax. His trembling didn’t stop, however. The host made his way over to the bed, sitting down at the centre of the mattress.
“Are you alright?” The man asked dumbly.
“No. I’ve never been less alright,” Tommy confirmed, gripping onto the night shirt with shuddering hands. It was like he was trying to reach for his heart and force it to stop pulsing so frequently. Wilbur dragged the teen closer, restraining both of the teen’s arms in a side hug, with his left being squashed in between the two and his right being pushed into his side. The teen guessed it was the man’s way of comforting someone, and so he allowed it. It annoyed the younger that his parents didn’t even make a move to help him, but it wasn’t much of a surprise.
Somehow, Tommy felt himself begin to drift off, as his heart began to patter a healthy rhythm. He tried to stop himself, not wanting to let his guard down when a murderer was on the loose, but it was out of his own control. The last thing he heard that night was the bedroom door opening again, as his eyes fell shut.
=~•~=
Tommy felt groggy as he came to his senses. His back ached, feeling stiff. He pushed himself up from where he laid, noticing that he wasn’t in his own bed, nor his own room. Safe to say, Tommy woke up in sheer panic. He rolled himself onto the floor, letting his body make a hard thud on impact.
“Where the fuck am I- oh. Oh shit. Fuck this, I’m going back asleep,” he grumbled to himself, dragging his tired body off the floor. He sat onto the soft mattress, rubbing his head in pain from where he fell. The teen got up, walking to the open door. Hadn’t he shut that?
He peered out, light bright in the once dim corridor. Slowly, he ambled down the hall, taking in the decorating. Picture frames hung upon parts of the walls, showing a family cheerful in every shot. One was taken at France, another taken at a theme park. The family must’ve been the hosts. Phil looked exactly the same as he does now, as if time stopped for him. Techno and Wilbur were no older than 7 in some, and in others they looked their age now. It was a shame that his family had never done anything like that.
Tommy carried on down the hall, only stopping at the sight of hanging weapons. The sword still amazed him, but he wasn’t staring wide eyed at that. He was staring at the missing pickaxe that he was sure was there the night before. Then he remembered. The memory hit him like a wave, and he just wanted to crumble up on the floor at the thought. He didn’t, and kept walking as the memory bounced inside his brain.
The teen didn’t know whether anyone else had woken up yet, and he didn’t want to be alone in the open when a murderer could be stalking his every move. Just the mere thought of that made Tommy want to reach for the sword that hung on the wall and stab anything that dared to breath. He went to go to the room in which his parents were staying, stopping halfway when he could hear talking downstairs. Something the blond had noticed about the mansion was how quick sound travelled. Although the drastic distance between him and the people chatting, he could make out the full coherent sentences like he was sat directly next to the speaker. What was being said was nothing of interest to the younger, and so he just followed where the noise was emanating from.
He trudged down the stairs, his legs tired as he plopped down step after step. The wood groaned from under him, protesting against his weight. Tommy didn’t like how insecure they felt, especially considering certain events that had occurred in the house recently. Sweaty palms closed around the banister, as the blond carried on his way. By the time he reached the bottom, the prattling had grown increasingly more strident.
Bare feet traipsed through the confusing halls, shadows more at ease that day. Tommy felt like he was being watched, observed even. It woke up his exhausted brain, keeping him on high alert for no apparent reason. His eyes tracked all around the corridor, landing on an oil painting. The painting was of a portrait, but of no one he had seen before. Their face was blurred out, as if the colour had been smudged. The eyes still remained though, seeming to burn holes into his soul. They looked alive and real, unlike the rest of the picture. Victorian Era clothing was drawn with such accuracy onto the person, indicating when it must’ve been created. They wore a ringmaster like outfit, with the top hat and suit. Maybe it was a portrait of the original owner. Tommy walked away, unaware of the eyes that surveyed him.
He managed to find the dining hall, which a few people sat idly in. Tommy saw Dream talking to Sapnap and George, as if they had completely forgotten what had happened last night. Techno was also sitting in the room, turning a page of the book he was reading. The teen saw that the host and Sapnap were fully dressed in normal day attire, while Dream and George were not. He looked down at his own clothing, the navy blue trousers still covering his feet, before entering the hall unannounced.
Tommy placed himself down in one of the chairs, looking over to the spot that Bad had perished in. At least he died drunk and unaware, instead of there and fearful. He couldn’t shake the image of Quackity from last night. He wished he was dreaming, and soon he’d wake up and go off to annoy Jack or talk about everything and nothing at all with Niki. Now, Tommy wasn’t sure he’d ever see them again. He would never see Tubbo again, nor Ranboo or Purpled. The teen rested his head in his arms, muffling a sigh of resignation. He was going to die, he just knew it.
The blond lifted his head up, only to lets it fall sideways onto his crossed limbs. He stared around the room, noticing a new chandelier hung high in the centre of the room. It wasn’t dangling dangerously above anyone this time, and this lead Tommy to assume that Bad’s death was just a blatant accident. He grumbled silently to himself, shutting his eyes as he tried to rest a bit more before breakfast, if he even woke up before the meal. Time was just a construct to him in that moment, and it would stay like that until he left the mansion.
Tommy’s ears pricked up at the sound of movement, as a chair scratched teeth-grittingly across the floor. He peeled one of his eyes open, catching sight of Techno moving from his seat. The blond followed the man’s movement with his stare, until he disappeared through the kitchen door. Tommy lays his head down again, before catching sight of the discarded book. His eyes flick to the kitchen’s entrance and then to the book again. The teen silently shuffled closer, grabbing the book once he could reach.
It was one of those antique, leather bound books that you would find in a fantasy game. Upon the front cover was the title. Tommy couldn’t understand the language it had been written in, but the font was grand. The writing was clearly medieval, perfectly printed on the leather. Every page was the same tinted yellow, clearly aged from years of life. The teen was absolutely sure that this book had to be at least 40x older than him. Carefully, he opened it, making sure not to move the ribbon book mark. Every word was definitely not in English, Tommy figured out. Whenever a new chapter was announced, a small drawing was placed in the used space. He was looking at one of these pictures when Techno returned, a cup in his hand.
The teen didn’t hesitate in putting the book straight back from where he took it from. Tommy made sure to not even crinkle a page as he did so. He felt Techno glare at him, causing the blond to shuffle awkwardly away in his chair.
“What were you doing?” The man asked, making the younger freeze. A nervous chuckle left the blond, as his fingers tapped at the surface of the table.
“Nothing. What were you doing?” Tommy answered in an attempt to trick the host. He saw how Techno raised an eyebrow at the response, not even trying to hide his disbelief in the other’s words. It went quiet, and the lack of noise made Tommy shift uncomfortably in his seat.
“Alright, I was looking at the book. Cant blame me, though. It looks sick,” the teen retracted his original statement, not wanting to annoy the older. Techno gave him a look, before glancing down at the leather covered book. Tommy stared mazed at the man, as the older’s consciousness seemed to leave reality. He didn’t blink, never returning the gaze to Tommy. That was until he shook his head, clearing his mind from any of all thoughts.
“I guess it’s an alright book. Not the best I read though,” the man huffed out, finally glancing up to meet wide blue eyes.
“You can read that language?”
“Yeah...? Did you think I was just staring at the pages?”
“I was, but you can actually read it? That’s so cool. What’s it about?” Tommy asked bright eyed. It wasn’t like him to ask about the plot of a book, but this one was so old it had to have something interesting about it. Tommy had never seen something so ancient still being used. He would’ve thought something like that would be in a museum collecting dust, never to be opened again. He wondered how much it was worth. A good couple of thousands at least. Techno looked borderline surprised, but decided to place the item down and give the teen a quick overview of the plot.
According to Techno, the events that take place in the book did happen in real life (Tommy highly doubted that). The book was comprised of multiple stories, one being about a Village that supposedly ‘went mad’. Another was set in the Wild West, but Tommy couldn’t remember what the main gist of that one was. His favourite was one labelled ’The Pit’. Techno made the story sound like he was personally there, and that was just from an overview of the plot. The teen couldn’t comprehend how Techno had said the book wasn’t the best he had read. Maybe the writing was just shocking. By the time Techno had went over the Wild West one again, the rest of the people in the manor had entered the hall.
Tommy turned around in his chair as Techno left back to his own seat. What confused the teen was the amount of food spread out upon the table. He swore that it had been void of anything before. Unlike the night before, everyone was allowed to eat as soon as they liked. The teen didn’t waste anytime, taking two slices of toast from the middle of the table. He had forgotten to eat the food Wilbur and him had stolen from the kitchen last night, meaning his stomach was still empty. Once breakfast had passed without a hitch, Tommy felt like he had eaten twice his body weight. He hadn’t, no where near close enough, but it felt like he had.
Tommy naively thought that maybe the rest of the stay in the manor would be fine. It wasn’t.
=~•~=
“And this is the library.”
Tommy rocked back and forth on his feet, dozing off from where he stood. It had been decided that everyone would be given a tour of the mansion. This would’ve interested Tommy if he hadn’t already seen it with Wilbur. Some parts did still catch his notice, as the daylight allowed for better viewing, but the library wasn’t really that cool compared to the rest of the manor.
Morning light beamed harshly through a grand, cathedral like window, onto the hundreds upon thousands of books that laid dormant on their shelves. Pillars rose high into the air, connecting with the curved ceiling. Patterns and paintings coated the roof, and Tommy wondered how someone could even get up there to paint such art. A metal telescope was sat in one of the corners, next to an oil painting of the different constellations. A red carpet laid firmly on the reflective floor. A chandelier so awe-inspiring dangled above a globe. Was there just a chandelier in every room? Multiple ladders were scattered around the bookshelves, allowing for anyone to reach the top. Stone, spiral stairs led up to, what seemed like an astronomy tower.
Each book was completely different from one another, with some being modern (like The Maze Runner series) or some being authentic copies from as far back as the Middle Ages.
Okay, maybe the library wasn’t as boring as Tommy first thought.
Phil allowed all the guests to wander the room, like he had with every one before. Tommy left to the other side of the library, parting from the group. When they had entered the room, the teen had spotted a book that he had been meaning to try and find. He wasn’t big into the whole reading, but some novels did spike his fancy. It only took him 5 minutes tops to find it again, and pulled it out from the shelf, making sure not to knock any of the books down. He held it in his hands, brushing away the dust from the cover with his arm. It wasn’t first edition, obviously. If it was, Tommy would’ve started to suspect that the hosts weren’t all that human.
Tommy made sure to remember it’s original location, before settling down onto the floor.
The teen had been reading for quite some time, enjoying being left alone. After everything that had happened, Tommy was quite content in being alone in the corner of the room. All the other guests were still there, talking loudly or not at all. He didn’t care for their chatter though, filtering it out from his ears. Nothing seemed to be able to tear him away from himself and the book. Nothing apart from the sudden chill and darkness that swept across the room.
Tommy peered up, placing the ribbon book mark in between the two pages he had finished on. The window hadn’t been covered, but no light shone through. The large library was left in suffocating gloom and silence. That was until something shifted so quick in the dimness. The teen lost sight of whatever it was, and the sound of multiple things plummeting snatched his attention. On wobbly legs, he pushed himself up, gripping onto the wall for support. A loud gasp rung out, followed by a ear-splitting scream. It soon got muffled as more thing fell and thumped onto the ground and something else. Multiple quiet cracks rang through the room, but the noise got overpowered by the pounding of weight against the floor. It went quiet, apart from the sound of rapid footsteps thudding against the solid ground. Something scratched against another thing, and then it went dead silent.
Tommy could hear the pulsing of his heart, and the blood rushing through his ears and head. His breathing was shaky and uncertain. He ceased his respiring when the heavy weight of the door opened and shut in a matter of seconds. The only word that was coherent in his mind was the word ‘murderer’. The rest of his brain was screeching and crying. Absentmindedly, he clutched onto the book he still held, hoping that he could use it as a form of weapon if needed. Soon, light shone through the window once more, as if it had never disappeared.
“What the fuck made that noise?” he whispered under his breath, staring up from where he had curled into himself and pressed his back into the wall. God, how he wished he had just remained blissful. Far in front of him laid a mountain of books, piled high and messily. His eyes flicked around, noticing the lack of Sapnap in the area. His mind fell onto the scream that had sent chills through him, and slowly pieced the massacre together. On clumsy feet, he stumbled closer, never releasing his tight grip on the book. Instinctively, he went to dig through the mound, only for a hand to grip painfully onto his shoulder. It was his mother’s.
“We’ve got to try and get him out. Maybe he’s alive,” Tommy attempted to reason with her, only for the woman to clasp his shoulder more firmly. It was going to bruise for sure. He gave up, knowing that the lack of movement from under the pile of novels indicated the man’s death. The teen looked over to Dream and George, with Dream on the verge of a breakdown. George was stuck in shock, unable to actually speak. Words caught in his throat. Tommy turned his head to face the hosts, who also seemed stunned with the occurrence.
He knew someone had to be faking their dismay for the situation, and he was certain it wasn’t Dream. George seemed like a stretch, to say the least. Tommy glanced over at everyone, feeling useless. He couldn’t possibly figure it out. He barely knew these people, apart from his parents, so making any form of assumptions against them felt cruel and untrustworthy. Tommy could only confirm one thing. It wasn’t him.
=~•~=
After the initial shock of the situation, Phil had decided to try and find the cause of everything, leaving everyone else in the library. Tommy couldn’t bring himself to start reading again, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus. Instead, he chose to look around the library again, looking for any form of change. Nothing.
The teen was willing to give up, finding nothing even shifted. That was until he got over to the telescope area. There wasn’t anything different about the equipment but the painting was now off centre. Tommy stared at it, noticing something off about one of the painted stars. It wasn’t the same colour or size. The blond turned his head to the side, before looking side on to the oil painting. The ‘star’ was actually a hole in the canvass, revealing something on the opposing side.
“That’s a weird way to look at a painting, Tommy,” the teen spun around, coming face to face with Wilbur. His heartbeat calmed down in his chest at the sight of the taller. He let out a small laugh, masking his unwarranted fear.
“Oh, it’s because one of these stars are actually hole. I think there might be something behind the painting,” Tommy explained, trusting the older. The teen didn’t notice the slight panic that skidded through the host’s eyes, turning around to face the picture again.
“Tommy, I’ve lived in this house for my whole life. I can assure you there is nothing behind there,” Wilbur confirmed, ruffling the shorter’s hair. Tommy kicked the man, grumbling a string of curse words as he tried to fix it. The teen couldn’t help but feel like he was right, but who was he to say. Wilbur would just laugh at him if he proved himself wrong. He’d never live it down. Not like he was getting out of the manor alive.
The host caught sight of the book in the younger’s hands, choosing to let him keep it for the moment. He pulled the teen away from the painting, leading to the blond trying to bite away his hand.
“I swear, how long does it take for Phil to figure this shit out. You know what, I’m going to go find him,” the sound of Tommy’s father’s voice complained out loud. Everyone in the room turned around to face the older man leaving the library in a huff, followed by his wife. Tommy ceased his attack on Wilbur’s arm, releasing the man’s limb from his jaw. He watched as his parents left the library, heading off to find Phil. He wanted to call out their stupidity but refrained against it.
“Should we go after them?” Techno asked, walking over to Wilbur, who was wiping away the blond teen’s saliva from his lower arm. Tommy stared up at the two hosts, rolling his eyes at the question.
“Eh, they’ll probably be back. They do this sometimes,” Tommy shrugged, returning his attention to sorting out his hair, shooting Wilbur a glare as he did so. The two hosts took his word for it, before beginning to talk. The teen ignored whatever they were conversing about, opening the book he had been reading. Tommy didn’t want to live his last few days in fear of his life, and so he shoved the dreaded reality to the furthest side of his brain. He ignored any surrounding noise, focusing solely on the plot of the book. An arm draped over his shoulders, causing him to flinch, but relaxed when he realised who it was.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of death that coated the air, but he just assumed it was because of the recent incident. Tommy was half way through a chapter when disaster struck.
A crash echoed through the building, tearing Tommy’s eyes away from the words written on the pages. It seemed like everyone had a similar reaction, casting aside all previous thoughts. Anxiety bubbled under Tommy’s flesh, an uneasy feeling swirled in his blood. Why did something so ominous happening minutes after his parents left?
The teen wiggled away from under Wilbur’s arm. He paced over to the door, pushing it open using his shoulder. Tommy turned his head to face the remaining people in the library, espying the two guests and the two hosts. Dream was advancing closer in a hurried manner, most probably going to join Tommy in checking out the noise. George followed swiftly behind, wanting to stay with the other man as to not be alone. The blond doesn’t wait to see if either of the hosts joined him, passing through the door and into the hall.
Tommy wasn’t sure where he was going. The hall that he, along with Dream and George, walked down felt bitter. It was as if the room was situated out in the open, walls torn down and the wind blowing harshly through the rubble. The two adults were leading the way, opening every door they passed and staring inside. The young blond saw Dream eyeing a foil fencing sword whilst looking in one of the rooms. It clearly had a broken blade, making the blade sharp enough to cause real damage. Luckily, it was encased in a glass box collecting masses of dust. By the way Dream stared, Tommy assumed that this must’ve been the same weapon used to defeat him in the fencing match against Techno.
The trio soon found their way to the ballroom. At first glance, nothing was off, and the three were about to leave until they saw a wooden beam crashed and splintered upon the polished floor. Tommy was able to identify that it was the same support he had seen the night before. That explained the loud crash then.
They edged closer, unsure whether there had been another incident. Tommy hoped not. He wouldn’t be able to cope, especially if it was his parents. Sure, they weren’t the best but they’re all his ever known. If he lost them, then... he just hoped it wasn’t.
The beam was much bigger than the teen had first anticipated, and much wider. It shouldn’t of been much of a surprise really, considering the absolute size of the room. The hall was larger than Tommy’s whole home, so the size of the beam wasn’t over the top. Dream crouched down next to the wood, hand gliding over the rigid surface. His hand flinched back when a splinter dug its way into his index finger. Tommy knelt down next to the man, taking a look at the beam for himself. That’s when his eyes landed on a red stain upon the wood. He shuffled away, becoming fully aware of his own breathing and heart.
No... it couldn’t. It shouldn’t.
George and Dream both focused on the same area of the beam Tommy had been, noticing the splatter in a few seconds. The two men gazed at one another, before attempting to move the wood. It was an obvious fail, with the beam falling heavily out of their shaking arms after being lifted up a few inches from the ground. It impacted with something underneath, causing a crack to sound out. The teen got to his feet as the men tried to move it again. It got moved a few millimetres to the left before inevitably plummeting. On the third time, Tommy helped, allowing for the three of them to move it a foot to the side before their arms failed them. This time, something was revealed.
Tommy’s hands twitched unconsciously at his sides, as he took two clumsy steps backwards. His eyes were forced to stay open, as if his eyelids had been stapled wide. He took in a shuddery breath, exhaling with silent curses directed to the fates. A phantom wind passed through his chest, knocking his heart as it went. One of his quivering hands made its way to his chest, his fingers spreading out and closing continuously. Tommy couldn’t bring himself to focus on what Dream and George were saying, unable to hear one of them run off to find Phil. All he could hear was his heart and the rushing of his own blood. A headache accumulated in his brain, as if the situation was harming him physically. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Tommy felt like he was struggling to swallow down his own still-beating heart. It clawed at his throat, as he tried to gasp for air. His vision went blurry, unable to suppress his feelings anymore. He didn’t care if his blubbering was seen as pathetic anymore, as he let his knees bring him crumbling to the floor. He wanted to yawp out into the open air, let the world hear his pain. Tommy felt Dream attempt to comfort him, rubbing circles in a fluid motion upon his trembling back. It did little to help, as the boy was completely inconsolable by the time the man moved to help. Though glassy eyes, Tommy could still see the two lifeless bodies.
He tried to cover his face with the navy top, gasping and gaping in the material. The sound of feet hitting the floor vibrated around the hall. George had successfully found Phil, who was looking through every single room like, Tommy, him and Dream had been doing, trying to find the cause of the noise. Dream was still crouched down besides the teen, having pulled him into a hug now, letting him cry into his shirt. The host stared at the two bodies, shock replacing his easygoing expression. He looked pitifully down to the grieving teen, who just dug his blunt nails further into Dream’s nightshirt.
Phil knelt down to inspect the bodies, confirming that they were indeed dead. He glanced back to the three remaining guests, as if accusingly. The look in his eyes fizzled out, turning his attention back to the two dead parents.
“Why don’t you two take Tommy to another room, yeah?” Phil suggested, hearing the teen’s babbling sizzle out into softer sniffles. Dream took the older’s advice, guiding the younger away from the hall once he had successfully convinced the blond to get up. George followed, leaving Phil in the ballroom all alone.
As soon as they left, George had decided that going to one of the bedrooms would be the smartest thing to do. It would be far away from the ballroom and comfortable. Tommy was holding onto Dream for support, not trusting his own footing anymore. He just wanted this nightmare to be over. He still wished it was all a hallucination, and that he had just taken whatever Tubbo’s father takes. Unfortunately, he knew better.
They had decided on heading to the bedroom Tommy had spent the night in, finding that he would be calmer in a room he was aquatinted to. Their assumptions were correct, as Tommy didn’t waste any time in digging himself into the covers. His eyes were a bloodshot red, and his throat was hoarse. He just couldn’t believe it. He refused to. Tommy didn’t want his parents to just... go. But they did, and Tommy could’ve stopped them. Stupidly, he felt guilty, like he was the one who had murdered them. The teen curled up into the blankets, tear streaks staining his face. He sniffed again, trying to recompose himself. It did little to help.
The thing that helped him was the company. Tommy expected Dream and George to just leave as soon as they got to the room, but they stayed. It was like they actually cared, but that couldn’t be right. He had zero clue what either of them were like. Despite that, they stayed. He managed to join into their conversations, getting a few laughs to leave them. Maybe he would’ve been splitting up with laughter if it wasn’t for what had happened, but it didn’t stop silent chuckles and wheezes from making themselves apparent. In that instant, that moment, a small slither of hope had filled Tommy. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive. Maybe they could survive. Maybe he wouldn’t have to loose anyone else. There were too many maybes, but he couldn’t care less. He had lost nearly everything here, why not add his rationality to the list of lost items as well.
“Guys, I’m going to leave for a bit. I’ll be back, I’m just going to the kitchen to try and steal something to eat. Want anything?” Dream asked after a while of calm banter, causing Tommy to panic internally. George didn’t seem to see the same risks as Tommy could. The man shook his head to the other, saying how he didn’t want anything. The teen had to bite back his own hunger, that decided that this was the perfect time to rise up and make itself known. The blond was moments away from stopping him, but by the time he mustered up the courage, the man was already gone.
=~•~=
“It’s fine Tommy. Dream said he will be back. He might’ve just got lost,” George assured, mainly to himself and not the younger. It had been around 10 minutes since Dream had disappeared through the door. Tommy had decided that that was too long of a time for him to be gone. It wasn’t that he hated George’s company, but he would rather have both of them near him, or at least in his view. The teen grimaced, before letting his body relax into the sheets. His back hit the bed board, which made a small thud when it impacted with the wall. The blond sighed into the palms of his hands. That was when the door croaked open.
Tommy shot up, regretting doing so when his head screamed in agony from a headache. George looked around, expecting Dream to saunter through the door with his arms full of robbed food. It wasn’t. Instead it was Wilbur. The host popped his head, scanning the room for something. He must’ve been looking for the remaining guests, because he opened the door fully when he caught sight of the two.
“Hello you two. Where’s Dream? Phil said that you all went off somewhere after the... accident,” Wilbur paused slightly at the end, searching for the right word to say. Tommy sniffled at the word, rubbing at his still bloodshot eyes with the ball of his hand. He attempted to play it off as if he was tired, but his acting didn’t seem the best that day.
“Dream snuck off to the kitchen to steal something to eat. He left about 10 minutes ago,” George answered, placing a hand on Tommy’s tensed left shoulder. Wilbur raised an eyebrow, before giving a single nod as a reply and leaving without another word. Something didn’t sit right with the response for Tommy, but he let it be, trusting the man. It was only until Dream hadn’t returned after another 10 minutes did the two guests panic.
“I think we should go check on him,” Tommy suggested, not waiting for a response before getting up from where he sat. George jumped up from the mattress, quickly agreeing with the younger’s decision. The man didn’t want to be alone, and felt safer when with the teen. Said teen opened the door carelessly, walking out the room with purpose in his stride. It was obvious that the blond didn’t want to loose the missing man. He was constantly on the verge of a breakdown these days, and he wouldn’t be able to cope with four deaths in one day. He just couldn’t loose Dream.
“Slow down, Tommy. I don’t want to be left behind,” George jogged over, catching up once Tommy stopped his descent down the old, creaky stairs. He only started again when George was right beside him. At the bottom of the steps, frigid air surrounded the two people. The teen did his best to ignore it, getting rather used to the breeze that randomly blew through the rooms of the mansion from an undisclosed location. Tommy’s speed never faltered, heading straight for the kitchen. George scurried after him, brown hair riding up from his head.
The teen pushed open the kitchen door, barging the wood with a bruised shoulder. Both of them scouted the room, hurried feet hitting the ground with minuscule thuds. Tommy had just realised that he had been running around bare footed all day. The blond was searching the right side of the room, glancing into the fridge, when George let out a gasp. Tommy hated that sound. He despised it, even. He ran around to the other side of the kitchen, watching as George’s knees failed on him. An uneasy feeling punched him in the gut.
“What happ... ened? No... For fucks sake, no!” Tommy slid down to his own knees, punching the ground in disbelief and frustration. His knuckles cracked when they impacted with the ground. Tears pooled at the teen’s eyes, as he rubbed furiously to get them away. George didn’t seem to be trying all that much to hide his own sorrow. He was having trouble breathing, unable to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. Water dripped from the man’s eyes as he curled into himself. Tommy attempted to mirror what Dream had done for him not even an hour before. Now, Dream wasn’t here, he felt like he needed to.
Instead of comforting the both, Dream laid with a broken foil sword puncturing through his eye and further into his brain. Blood trickled down the man’s cheek, pooling on the tiled floor. Upon further inspection, Dream’s ankles could be seen whacked in, which allowed the murder to take place. The bones were shattered, no doubt about it. Tommy had to clench his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see him anymore. That’s when he realised something, and it all made sense.
“George...”
“Yeah?”
“If me and you were together the entire time, then... who killed him?”
“...”
“Do you think... it might’ve been one of the hosts?”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck indeed.”
“But... that actually makes so much sense.”
“How?”
George looked over to Tommy, before getting ready to explain.
“They must have planned it all out. All of them must be involved. That’s why none got murdered.”
“But why kill everyone, and more importantly. How could some of these deaths be controlled?”
“They must’ve been traps. Bad was probably sat under the chandelier because he was the most drunk and less likely to say no...”
“And Quackity got brutally murdered by one of them. It couldn’t of been Wilbur. I was with him when he got killed, but he did know exactly what room to run to,”
“Exactly. Tommy, this... they planned everything, and I think I’m next.”
“Why?”
“You weren’t on the guest list. I was.”
“Why do they want you dead? Why did they want anyone dead?”
“Me, Dream, Quackity, Sapnap and Bad went to school with Wilbur and Techno. We must’ve done something to them. I’m assuming your parents knew Phil and, no offence here, they seemed really shit to him.”
“Yeah... but... I don’t want you to die. Not now we know.”
They stayed silent for a bit, neither of the remaining two guests speaking a word. Tommy’s nails tried to dig into the floor, as panic rose to his throat.
“George, we need to get out of here.”
“But how? The doors and windows are all sealed shut.”
“...”
“We’re fucked. We can’t get out of her-“
“The astronomy tower...”
“The what?”
“The astronomy tower! Astronomy towers usually have a hole in their roofs. We can try and escape from there by scaling down the walls.”
“Tommy, we could die doing that.”
“We are gonna die anyways. Let’s try and get the fuck out of here while we can.”
Tommy stood up, extending a hand for George to take. The man took it and they bolted out of the room. The teen led the way, running through the twisting corridors. Every shadow darted out of their way, allowing them through. The duo ran past the oil painted portrait, the eyes never following like before. It didn’t take long for them to get to the library, with Tommy never stopping for anything. He forced the heavy door open with all the strength he could muster.
When in the library, Tommy’s pace never ceased, neither did George’s. It was all going too well, so the Fates decided they didn’t like that.
“Hello you two. Where are you going in such a rush?” The voice of Phil asked from behind them. Both the guests haltered to a complete stop at the noise. Tommy pivoted around, his face red from the exertion. His breathing was noisy, along with George’s. The teen’s blue eyes widened in fear, unable to hide the emotion. Phil tilted his head in confusion at the reaction. The host went to take a step forward, which the two guests mirrored by taking one back. George stuck out an arm in front of Tommy, as a form of protection.
“We were just heading to the library. We’re here now big man. Nothing to worry about, don’t mind us,” Tommy hurried out, his words muddling up as he spoke. His attempt at acting not suspicious fell short, as sweat dripped down his cheek. Phil wasn’t all that convinced, and took another step closer. Tommy grabbed onto George’s sleeve, tugging at it to try and tell him to make a break for it. The man shrugged it away, and so Tommy stayed still, biting his fingernails.
“Are you sure? If you’re looking for the book you were reading, Tommy, I’ve got it. You must’ve dropped it when leaving the library.”
Tommy and George shared a look, fearful azure eyes met just as scared brown ones. They had to run, because Phil wasn’t going to leave. The man took another step closer, and the two took one away.
“We’re looking for something else, Phil. Thanks though,” Tommy played off, before returning back to nibbling at his nails. George gave the man a faked smile, as if to say ‘fuck off now’. Phil didn’t, instead stepping closer again.
“Well, if you need anything, just call,” the man sighed, turning tail and leaving the room. Both guests didn’t move until the host’s footsteps were long gone down the halls. Then they resumed their frantic running. Up the stone stairs they went, which twisted and turned up and up. They were exhausted by the time they reached the top landing, George almost collapsing to the ground. Tommy dragged him, his own heart pounding with adrenaline.
The teen didn’t spend anytime examining his surroundings, only having tunnel vision on the two exits there. One was the exit through the roof, showing the darkness of night. The other was a beautifully navy tinted window, open slightly ajar.
Tommy pushed it open fully, the night air freezing upon his pale skin. It was refreshing. Freedom, it was so close. He stared downwards, noticing the roof having a shallow slant down in that specific area. It was the perfect place to land. George also peered down, his own heart audible to Tommy’s ears. They gave each other a hopeful look, a small grin printing on the blond child’s face. A small gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he sucked in a breath and dropped to the roof, grabbing onto the panelling as soon as he landed. Bruise were sure to form on his knees, but it was worth it. He glanced up to see George following behind, landing on his bottom instead.
Tommy crawled over to the edge, noticing a tree that extended a stable branch out to the younger. That was there way down. Rain began to pour down, drenching the two in a matter of seconds. The teen grabbed George’s hand, before making a leap onto the branch. Somehow, Tommy managed to land it, which allowed him to pull up the now dangling man. George looked like a terrified cat, his soaked hair standing directly on end. The teen let out a relieved laugh, his face crinkling in joy, something he hadn’t felt for a while. The man joined in with his wheezy cackling. In a few minutes, the two had managed to scale down the tree, foreheads sticky with sweat.
Tommy landed down on his hands and knees, mud coating his palms. George slipped down, landing on his back into the grass. They pushed themselves up, the blond teen wiping away the dirt onto his trousers. Now, all they had to do was follow the path out of the forest. That, sadly, meant they had to circle around to the front of the house and risk getting caught. It was worth it, they told themselves. So, they began their running.
=~•~=
“George, I don’t think we need to run anymore. I can’t even see the mansion,” Tommy laughed out, feeling light headed from the immense amount of exercise. George let out a similar laugh, flopping to the ground, before jumping up from the absolute coldness of it.
“Hallelujah! I might’ve died if we kept running. I am not the sporty typ-“ George never finished his sentence. Tommy whipped around to face the man, perplexed at why the man just suddenly stopped talking. What greeted him almost made him faint.
George’s white glasses fell sideways down his face, covering one of his eyes. The other was paralysed in shock, completely wide. Crimson dripped from his agape mouth, pooling in his throat and spilling out over his lips. His skin was a pallid pale, making him look like a walking corpse. Protruding through his stomach was what terrified the blond child the most. Impaling the once alive man, was the claymore sword that had been hung up. The same one Tommy was once fascinated by. The teen couldn’t stop shaking, trembling more when the weapon was calmly slid out from George’s person. The cadaver fell to the muddy ground, staining the floor with the wine-red substance. Tommy couldn’t help but let out a harsh sob when he saw who were standing there.
“Why?! What was the reason for that!? You could’ve just let us leave!” Tommy couldn’t help himself from yelling out. He might as well give the three a piece of his mind before inevitably getting killed by them. If he was going to die then he wouldn’t go quietly. He was trembling uncontrollably, unable to stop the convulsive motion. He was terrified, no, petrified.
“Tommy, you’re shaking. You must be freezing out here,” Phil ignored the younger’s cries. He was right though, Tommy was freezing. The teen hadn’t realised it earlier, mostly due to the adrenaline, but he was definitely cold. He was bound to be, having run out into the rain in nightwear and zero shoes. Tommy wouldn’t admit the man was right though.
“Yeah, I’m shaking, but not from the fucking cold! You three fuckers murdered everyone: Quackity, Dream, George, Bad, Sapnap, even my bloody parents. Why? What was the reason?” Tommy couldn’t carry on his yelling, his voice failing him halfway through his rant. Tears pooled in the glands of his eyes. The teen frantically wiped them away, not wanting to die crying. Phil had been the one to stab George. He was cleaning the blade on his clothing, before handing it to Techno.
“You’re going to catch a cold out here with what you’re wearing,” Wilbur confirmed, like Tommy was unaware of that factor. It made the teen grimace. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that there was a chance of that happening, but that was better than getting murdered.
“So what! You’re gonna kill me anyway. Ill or not!”
It went quiet for a second. The wind ceased its crying, and the leaves stopped rustling. Tommy was sure that this signalised his death, the lack of noise just rounded it off. He clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see the sword that he was certain was about to plunge into his chest. The pain never came. Neither did his death. He opened his eyes, noticing the three talking in hushed tones. No one was looking at him, and so he didn’t waste any time in standing.
Tommy took one step away, then another, before breaking out into a full sprint. He heard a yell from behind him, but his feet never stopped. If he could just get out to the main road he’d be safe. He just needed to run and not stop. Multiple times he slipped, scaring him every single time. His feet were cut multiple times on stray rocks, but he never gave up. The sound of pursuing footsteps drew closer. He was hardly breathing, but he never chanced turning around to see his pursuer. If he did, he was certain he’d be caught. He just couldn’t give up. He just couldn’t.
The sound of feet grew, the person clearly quicker than Tommy. The teen didn’t stop, although he was well aware his death was growing increasingly closer. He didn’t give up. Not when the person was in arms reach. Not when he felt himself get grabbed from behind and lifted up. He kicked and screamed, trying anything to free himself. Whenever he got a kick in, the person’s grip increased. The person never got to the point of bruising him, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape. It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair.
Tommy was able to guess that it was probably Techno that had caught him, considering the pink strands of hair that flew roughly in the wind. The teen was cussing his heart out, unable to even get few kicks in now. He couldn’t help himself from crying, finding no point in trying to hide it no more. He was dead as soon as he was caught, it was just a matter of waiting until the hit arrived. Maybe death was best. The teen hung his head, a sobbing mess as he was brought back to where the other two murderers were standing. Wilbur was now holding onto the sword, and Phil was holding something else. It shined dangerously in the older man’s hand, flashing warnings to the crying teen. He attempted to kick again, failing miserably.
Techno soon haltered his movement, allowing Phil to walk closer. The pink-haired man placed the teen down onto the floor, carefully. Tommy was half expecting to be thrown to the ground, not cautiously lowered. Maybe it was because he was a child that they didn’t want to harm him before his death. He guessed that was well-mannered, for murderers at least. The teen was sobbing uncontrollably upon the floor, not even bringing his eyes up to meet Phil’s.
“Mate, calm yourself. It’s all going to be fine.”
Yeah right...
“Fuck you.”
Phil fiddled with the thing in his hand. It must’ve been a bottle of sorts, filled with a dark liquid. It bubbled ominously. Tommy assumed it was poison.
“Just relax for a bit, yeah?”
“Fuck off, please!”
“You’ll be fine. Trust me.”
“You lost my trust when you murdered my friends!”
Phil just sighed, holding the bottle dangerously in his hands. He unscrewed the lid, before letting it fall from his hand. It crashed directly next to the blond teen, the substance falling onto his arms. Unnatural exhaustion fell upon his mind, as if he had just been sedated. Maybe he had. He used his arms to support his limp body, his eyes drooping in tiredness. When it became physically impossible for him to keep them open, he felt someone pick him up (most likely Techno again). Soon he lost his feeling in his body, and soon his consciousness left him as well, letting his head lull back against someone.
=~•~=
Tommy woke up. He woke up with a sneeze, which hurt his insides. Through blurry eyes, he searched his surroundings. Hands griping warm covers of a bed. He shot up, body failing from the sudden movement. His body collapsed on the floor, making a loud thud when he made impact. His ears didn’t allow him to hear the sudden footsteps that sounded out. The door to wherever he was creaked open, and in came someone. He was unable to see who it was, feeling weak.
Someone picked him up from the floor, placing him back into the bed. The person ruffled his hair, before disappearing out of the door. He was completely clueless on his location, but something told him that he shouldn’t leave. Maybe it was his own tired thoughts. Whatever it was, he decided it was quite a nice idea.