[PRP] Fakey Fright Night (Oliver & Elliot) [FIN]

[saedusk]

Elliot's words had been exactly this, "I'm not scared of haunted houses, Oliver. It's child's play. All fake, you know."

Whether rumors of disappearing structures could be substantiated or not, Elliot took it upon himself to remain in disbelief. Give him a few more months in Ashdown and that tune might've been different, but it was dark by the time they arrived out front, losing him the chance to prove it one way or another. As he looked from one cliche Halloween decoration to another, though, he was absolutely positive it was no more than some kind of fundraiser thought up by school kids to suit the holiday season. "Fake cobwebs. Tacky."

Except, well, there was no one at the door to take their money. No one else around, either, and no sounds but the ominous creaking of a house that looked fit to topple over any second. If this was supposed to be some kind of date, it probably wasn't going to be a very good one.

"It's not that I couldn't afford to pay, but if they're not even going to bother standing at the door, I'm not going to wait. What do you say, should we head inside?" There was a dumb look on his face as he asked, playful but obnoxious in the way only Elliot Labelle could be.

Melancholiessss

 

[Melancholies]

Ashdown had not really been the place he wanted to come back to. Eli being there helped, but it also felt absolutely bizarre; he wondered what it was like, having so much money that you could make snap choices like that. Sure, let's move halfway across the country with a guy I only sort-of know because it sounds fun. ********, Ollie had to grow up stealing sandwiches from the lunch line because god knew his ******** dad never fed them.

But that was neither here nor there. Ollie's head was hurting a little bit, but Elliot had been insistent on reliving all of Oliver's terrible childhood memories the only way he knew how: physically being there, traversing the streets, experiencing what life had to offer. Granted, Ollie never remembered the weird haunted house routine, but they were both here. Besides, Elliot's incessant I'm not afraid routine was old and he had a point to prove.

"Sure, whatever." except the words that Jamie had told him still hung heavily in his gut; all the talk about magic and the existence of another world. If he didn't remember this house, did that mean that it could possibly be something uncanny too? No, no... that was asinine. Don't be asinine Oliver.

His expression was definitely not as playful nor as obnoxious. Instead it was straight, tired and frayed. Ashdown hadn't been kind to his sleep, but when had anything been kind to his rest?

"Well?" he kicked at Eli's shoe, nudging the other inside first.

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[saedusk]

There was a tap against one of his designer shoes. Had it been anyone but Oliver, he might've had something to say about it. Instead, he relented, "No need to rush, the house isn't going anywhere. I didn't realize you were this excited to get inside." It was so much easier to cover up insecurities, fears, or worries with assumptions about someone else's state of mind. Without giving him time to retaliate—whether he would or not was up in the air, but Elliot was prepared for anything—he stepped inside.

Of course, the interior looked to be in no better shape than the exterior had been. That was all part of the charm, though, right? It was all very reminiscent of B grade horror flicks and Eli expected a spooky, scary skeleton to leap out of a half-hidden closet any second.

"I think they use mirrors to make the hallways look longer than they really are," Eli remarked, helpfully narrating their experience. In truth, he knew nothing at all about the architecture and design of haunted houses, but he was blowing smoke from his a** to make sure he sounded as calm as he absolutely felt. "I'm not sure at all how they expect to scare us with setups like this. There's no where for anyone to jump out of and that's practically the only trick up their sleeves when it comes to places like this." He stopped long enough to sway the rocking chair with a short tap of his foot against the rocker.

And then the lights went out.

"Oliver?!" he called, louder than he needed to, "Take my hand, let's not get separated." As he groped the air, what grabbed his hand was most assuredly not Ollie. Their hand was cold and clammy, large and rubbery, and when the lights flickered back to life what greeted him from the very chair he'd stopped for was a clown. It raised Elliot's hand to its painted lips. It kissed him. It smiled and there were too many teeth. Immediately Eli pulled his hand away, a look of absolute disgust well-visible even in the dim light.

"T-Touching is against the rules!!" he sputtered, even louder than moments before as he took a few steps backwards, stumbling over those same designer shoes. With renewed vigor he was grasping for Oliver's hand, but as his eyes refused to leave the clown's face, he couldn't quite manage to grab it.

[3/18 Fear]

Melancholiessss

 

[Melancholies]

Oliver had nothing to say to Elliot's musings. There had been a time or two when, unable to sleep, Oliver found himself stationed in front of the television in their shared living room, some whacked out show playing at whatever inane hour of night. More often than not, Elliot noticed the light (or perhaps the sounds, the screams) and joined him in some weird attempt to prove he wasn't afraid of horror or suspenseful dramas. Oliver didn't give a ********. He didn't care and he didn't know why Elliot cared so much because it wasn't even a big deal. Then again, his weeks living with Elliot Labelle had proven that everything had to be a big deal when he was involved.

He hadn't even slept in the past day—maybe two, maybe three (probably not three, he would be dead)—but the hours all blurred together nonetheless. He didn't care. The lights went out but he had anticipated it. Eli screamed but he had anticipated that too.

"Gross." was his only noncommittal answer when Elliot screamed about being touched. Despite the latter flailing around (and missing, every goddamn time) Oliver calmly grasped for his already sweaty palm with a sigh. "Gross." he repeated, though for different reasons.

"Didn't you say all of this was fake." it wasn't a question, but a statement, an observation. If anything, the "spookiness" made his head throb, but his nerves were too far shot to jump or startle at anything. At least, thus far. He started walking into the other rooms of the house (shoes far less sparkly or name brand) almost unceremoniously. Actually, completely unceremoniously. He didn't have all goddamn night.

[3/18 Fear]

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[saedusk]

Too distracted by his own freak out—which is to say, distracted by how absolutely calm in the face of adversity he was—Elliot hadn't the mind to fuss over Oliver's pointed insult about his sweaty hand. He did, however, have this to say, "It is fake!" It was a loud assurance, one particularly full of itself as if the statement had actually been a question. "It's just an actor in a costume. A poor excuse for one, I might add."

He was still talking as Ollie led him from the hallway to a room nearby. The eeriness here was lost on him at first. It was easier to continue slinging insults at the decor. That way he was too busy for fear.

"A goddamn wax museum now? This place can't seem to decide what it wants to be." Across the room, a door began to creek open, and it roused Eli's attention only long enough to spur his ire. Yet, despite his protesting, he hadn't let go of Oliver's hand. "What's next?" he asked, gesturing dramatically from the political television to the spooky, self-opening door. "The hall of wax presidents?"

What he saw, what he heard, it all had his heart in his throat. Unfortunately, he somehow managed to continue running his mouth regardless, even if he did noticeably choke.

"A scarecrow??" he croaked, "More barnyard chic... t-that's not scary!" Except he was squeezing Ollie's hand a bit too tight and looking for a different exit.

[7/18 Fear]

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Oh, hadn't the debates already ended? Ollie tuned into the television, watching as the figures on screen rambled and accused one another, fingers pointing, audience snickering. Elliot was rambling about something or other, but Oliver wasn't really listening anymore.

"You're consoling yourself." Ollie deadpanned as he glanced at the chuckling scarecrow, wincing inwardly (though his face made no indication) when Eli strangled his hand. Actually, he did yawn but that was about the gist of it. He didn't want to be here. He only left the house because it seemed like a good thing to do, versus, you know, wallowing in self misery.

"You're walking over towards a closet." he told Eli gently, which was somehow worse than it being harsh because now it just dripped with liquid sarcasm, "It's this way."

[7/18 "Fear"]

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[saedusk]

Were Elliot actually in his right mind, he might've had it together enough to snap back, but as it were he didn't even have the fortitude to realize he was the only one scared. Wait, scratch that, he definitely wasn't scared. They were on the same page here, right? Right.

"Just stating the facts," he said meekly, letting himself be led. It didn't quite sound like Eli. "Oliver, how big do you think this place is, anyw-"

Stopped short by what he saw the next room over, the death grip on Ollie's hand actually lessoned. Ghostly yes, but exactly how scary were apparitions of college kids doing college kid things? Eli had been in school plenty long enough before eloping with Oliver, he knew what this s**t looked like. Some of the panic drained from his expression.

"Okay, now they're just reaching." Even so, he was still consoling himself. Oliver hadn't been wrong about that in the slightest. "Running out of ideas?" It was a question for the ghost in the corner—lewd or not, Eli had seen it all in that department, too—but the answer he got was not at all what he'd expected to get for his sarcasm.

Turning to follow their finger, he saw what he never wanted to see. Yet another cliche horror trope, but it slapped him right in the face as Oliver probably expected it would whenever he turned around, too. "What the hell?!" There was blood seeping from her eyes and between her fingers and Eli was pretty sure they were going to die. He bumped into Oliver as he tried to stumble backwards. "What is this Silent Hill bullshit?!" he squeaked.

[12/18 Fear]

Melancholiessss

 

[Melancholies]

"Oh, that's actually pretty good." Was Oliver's response to the nurse, expression almost impressed. In fact, it probably would have been had it not been for Elliot's disgusting overreacting. Still, in the back of his mind, Jamie's conversation with him echoed. All of this about magic—about Other Ashdown existing and all of that other bullshit—really made him question if this was real... the ghosts definitely seemed real enough, even if they weren't doing anything to purposefully scare the two of them.

He caught Eli when he stumbled back into him, which was to say his hand smashed against his back and pushed him forward again (because Elliot was, by a fair margin, taller than him and he didn't feel like getting trampled over). "It's a haunted house Elliot. What the ******** did you expect." because it was true; did he expect a good laugh out of it? Free candy? Stupid children? Christ sake's Elliot, that wasn't what haunted houses were about.

"We're probably almost done," he consoled, "People in Ashdown don't have a lot of money to throw around on expensive s**t like this." it was a pretty podunk town after all. "We can always turn around if it's too much for you." he was kneading his forehead now with his hand, cursing under his breath at the headache gnawing against his skull.

[12/18 fear]

saedusk

 

[saedusk]

Even graceful Elliot Labelle was so ******** he couldn't stop himself from stumbling when Ollie shoved him to save himself. It was fine, there was no way he had the fortitude to scold his only companion that wasn't of the freaky and frightening variety. "I-" he started as he managed to save himself before he bumped right into the nurse straight from Horror Hospital on Elm Street. Something clicked in his weary mind, though, told him not to answer.

Eli knew damn well he hated s**t like this. What he'd been expecting was a good laugh, yes, a backwater attempt at fear that ended in an eye roll and extended into an invitation to dinner somewhere nice. What he got was actual fear with a healthy portion of self-loathing waiting in the fridge for dessert.

"I-It's not too much!" Now he was trying to save whatever face he could, grabbing Oliver's hand as he stormed out, refusing to look at the bloody nurse. "I'm not leaving this ******** house until we've seen it a-"

And then they were outside.

"Wait. Wait, wait, wait. That can't be it!" A cursory look around quickly assured him this wasn't the end, it wasn't the entrance they'd started from at all. It was a garden of some sort, one that might've been peaceful were it not for the skeletons parked on a bench. They seemed friendly enough, though, taking the time out of their important conversation to point out the exit. "Fishing wire..." Eli mumbled under his breath, despite there being nowhere to hang the thread from, but aside from that he seemed eerily calm. Stiffly he turned, one hundred percent internalizing everything and not actually calm at all, and began to stalk away. He nearly tripped over the damn hat someone left lying in the middle of the path.

Good thing he managed to stop in time. Out from under the hat rolled a puppy and kitten, wrestling, squeaking in that tiny, cute way baby animals did. Eli felt positive something was waiting in the wings to leap out while they were distracted, but he couldn't look away. It was the first piece of wholesome content he'd seen all night and it was all he had to cling to; aside from Oliver's hand, of course.

[13/18 Fear]

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

"You're lying through your goddamn teeth Labelle." Oliver said with a sigh, headache growing with every step. Soon his already sweat-saturated hand was grasped again and they were both moving onward; hell, at this rate, Oliver was more than ready to turn around and go home, ******** whatever macho bravado Elliot was trying to prove.

But it didn't really matter. They stepped through the door and suddenly they were outside, something that left Ollie wide eyed and actually somewhat wondrous. How in the hell...?

"Holy ********> Elliot almost tripped and Oliver went running over, but it wasn't because his friend almost ate s**t, "Look at this!" he was kneeling down, absolutely enraptured by the presence of the small animals. His hands scooped up both the kitten and the puppy, but after a moment of deliberation he set the dog down. It was too happy, too frisky, too fresh. The kitten—oh the sweet, darling little kitten.

"I'm taking it home." he announced all at once, the small bundle nuzzled up to his face. "I'm taking it home and you can't stop me."

[13/18 fear]

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[saedusk]

"Wow, Oliver, just gonna ditch the puppy like that. I see how it is." Of course, Eli took the opportunity to scoop up the teeny dog. More for his own sake than anyone else's, though. It was a nice comfort, even if the little guy was a touch too rambunctious. After a few minutes, he set the puppy back down. The skeletons would be perfectly acceptable caretakers for him, after all.

"I'm not going to stop you. Follow your dreams, but preferably follow them this way." It was his way of saying I'm ready to go without actually saying it at all. Now that he'd had a short moment's reprieve, he didn't want to go back inside, he didn't want to deal with anymore spooks. All he wanted was a nice, hot cup of coffee and a blanket and something considerably less scary to watch on TV. A Lifetime move, maybe.

The room they found themselves in next was admittedly an atmosphere Eli could relate to. Loud music, too many people, too much to drink, except, well, there weren't any people as far as he could tell. That alone made him walk faster than he probably needed to. Hopefully Ollie was keeping up.

"We've gotta be almost there." his voice cut through the darkness right as the siren did, right as their exit showed itself, "That's gotta be it!" Reaching back for Oliver's hand for the umpteenth time that night, what he found instead was a scratchy, pokey hand in his own. Wheeling around, he shouted, "Oh, come on! Again with the scarecrow?!"

Elliot was so very tired and so very done.

[17/18 Fear]

Melancholies

 

[Melancholies]

Elliot had reached for Oliver's hand but honestly the second that Eli had given him his blessings on the would-be cat catastrophe Ollie had seen it fit to leave. He was gone. Elliot was saying something, but then he was screaming (like Elliot Labelle usually did) and the room he had to parse through was loud, but that was okay, because there was a tiny black kitten in his arms and the world had all but righted itself again. "I love you." he took the cat, to which he earned a squeaky chirp of a mew. The cat assuredly loved him too.

"Oh, there you are." He said calmly to Elliot once he had exited, "I thought you would've been the first one out." The kitten was safely tucked into his jacket, the small bundle all purrs and kneads. "Ready to go home? It wasn't really as bad as I thought it'd be." Seriously, free kittens. Or at least, kittens that belonged to people stupid enough to put them into a haunted house where they might get trampled to death, which gave him more than enough right to take the creature home.

[17/18 fear]

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[saedusk]

"More than ready to go home," he said, exasperated, shaking off the scarecrow's uncomfortable hand. Eli couldn't even comment on the house itself. It had been absolutely awful, far worse than he thought it would be. "Let's go." As he turned to leave, something brushed against his leg. He didn't even have the energy to jump. Looking down, he found the puppy.

"Even you wanna go, huh?" Eli didn't really want a dog. He was fine with a cat—okay, two cats now—but he couldn't just leave the poor thing with these... these... hooligans. Scooping the puppy up, he quickly walked out.

Melancholies