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"A careless talker destroys himself."
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Arthur has many pet peeves, all of which Alfred considers ridiculous.
There's the one about always having the bathroom door closed. The one about all drinks in the refrigerator being kept in the door shelves. Pastas and pasta sauces must be kept on one shelf in one specific cabinet, and the bowls must be stacked by color and size.
Honestly, he's just glad the man isn't one of those that demands the toilet paper roll to be positioned in a certain way, but at this point he wouldn't be surprised if it's something that soon develops.
In any case, it's not any of these that get him into the most trouble. No, that one is the one that Alfred finds himself guilty of more than once. And yeah, he can figure how much of a hazard it can really be, all things considering. It's just for the life of him he can't ever seem to lock the front door behind him.
"Do you know what could happen?" Arthur scolds him on day. "Do you know what could happen to us if anyone should just walk in?!"
"To be fair," Alfred says, "A locked door doesn't really stop a break in. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen."
"Well then, we may as well just unhinge the damn thing! May as well take away all of the obstacles!"
It's then that Francis comes into the room. The poor man had only been trying to finish off dinner and the natural peaceful state of his kitchen has been interrupted by the sudden yelling from the living room.
"I understand the need for safety, Arthur," he says, "But the poor boy and the rest of us need our hearing too."
Arthur ends up bristling at his words. Alfred suddenly has the picture of an angry cat with large eyebrows and doesn't bother to hide his laugh. If anything, it only makes Arthur more annoyed. He ends up throwing his hands up in the air and only speaks to Francis.
"He never locks the door behind himself when he enters the house. One day something's going to walk right through it and take him."
"Good, maybe it'll take me somewhere nice," Alfred scoffs.
Francis sighs and retreats back to the kitchen. He loves the boy, he really does, but he's not going to stick around for round two of a round less argument.
"Don't say a thing like that," Arthur tells him, and his tone is serious. "Don't you dare tempt something of which you have no understanding."
"Lighten up old man, you're 24 not 124." Alfred is already growing bored with the conversation. He ends up throwing himself back on the sofa and picks up his DS. "You're too young for superstitious shit, Arthur. Let it go."
"Says the one who refuses to go into a bathroom with a light off."
Alfred stops playing. Arthur watches him carefully set his game aside and stand back up. Alfred marches back over to the front door and quickly unlocks it. He pulls the door open and stands on the threshold.
"If anyone or anything wants a totally hot and gorgeous blond you can come and take me when I'm home alone! I'll even leave the door open for ya!"
He slams the door shut and turns back to a pale faced Arthur with a satisfied smirk. Arthur stutters before he finally shakes himself off.
"You. Are. An. Idiot," he grouses.
Alfred only gives him a casual look over before calmly saying, "Suck my dick?"
Arthur turns away from him and stomps away into the kitchen. The last thing he calls out to Alfred is "Don't say I never warned you!" and the topic dies away with that.
Alfred only shrugs. He goes back to the sofa and picks his game back up again. Before long, he forgets all of it ever happened.
But oh… if only he hadn't opened his big mouth...
It's a rare evening where all of his roommates are out except for himself, but Alfred doesn't really mind. Matthew had invited him out to open mic night and that had seemed like a fun idea, but he mentioned Alejandro performing and he can really do without spending another night in the lobby of the police station.
It's not that he ever means for things to escalate as they do, it just sort of happens when the two of them are in the same room.
Arthur and Francis had done out for a movie and they too had asked him to tag along, but in the past couple of weeks things have started to grow a little more… romantic between the two and the last thing Alfred wants is to play third wheel.
He tried to call Kiku, but his BFF is too busy with family to kick it with him. So, whatever, it's all good, Alfred can spend a night in with himself. He has that list to get through on Netflix anyway. Yup, sounds like a plan.
He ends up throwing on his jacket and leaves the small house for some fast food before settling himself down in front of the TV for the night. The trip to the McDonald's doesn't take too long, it's only down the block and the trip is easy enough of his bike.
When he does make it back home, Alfred keeps a good hold on his bag of food and leaves his bike in the middle of the driveway.
(Another something that drives Arthur up the wall.)
He goes back into the house and slams the door closed with his foot. In no time at all he's in front of the TV with his food spread out on the coffee table before him and Netflix account open and running.
The evening grows later and no one other than Alfred is home. The lovely couple of the household have stayed out later than intended. Their night out at the movies will turn into dinner afterwards at a restaurant that continues to grow more crowded and their patronage receiving less and less attention. Matthew too is out later than normal. From the open mic night, him and Alejandro have gone to a party, and then to an after party, and then to a small after-after hotel party, and ends up crashing with his friend in the bathroom of said hotel unintentionally.
All the while, Alfred is steadily falling asleep in front of the television. In a fast food induced food-coma and eyes growing tired from staring at a glowing screen in a dimming room, he soon finds himself falling into a slumber and slumps across the couch still in his clothes and sleeps soundly well into the evening.
When he finally does come too, the hour is late and he's broken out in a cold sweat. He doesn't really understand why, only that it has to do with his dreams. In them he is walking around his own home, but in the familiar space of the hallways that lead to the four bedrooms it feels like a never ending maze of white walls and beige carpet that twist and turn. To make matters worse, while he keeps walking forward trying to find his way out of the maze he hears the faint footfalls of someone following him. That in itself is creepy enough, but there's something to the atmosphere, something that feels… hostile.
It has the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end and he feels the sweat beading around his headline drip downwards. His heart is racing and for some reason there's the sensation that there are eyes on him. His pace picks up and he hears the harsh panting of labored breaths. At first he thinks they are his own, but every so often he'll inhale deeply as if he's been finding it hard to breathe the entire time and he knows, he just knows that it's not him at all.
Alfred throws a look over his shoulder to find whoever it is that's following him and is only greeted with the sight of an empty dim lit hallway, one that looks just as never ending from behind as it does forward.
Suddenly, it goes quiet. It's an eerie type of silence that clenches at his heart to the point where he fears that it's stopped beating all together. Alfred takes in a shuddering breath, proves to himself that he is still alive, and goes into a near panic. He's too preoccupied with calming himself down that he doesn't hear the soft footsteps near him nor feel the presence growing closer.
It isn't until he can feel the small pants of hot breath across the back of his neck and the faint sighs accompanying them does dread take over him completely. Slowly, he turns his head to see what is behind him. It feel like it takes forever for him to finally get a look and he can't help the sharp breath he takes–
Alfred startles awake. His breathing is heavy, and just like in his dream he really is sweating. He takes the back of his palm and wipes it across his brow. It comes back slick and tacky. Gross…
He rubs his face harshly. He's just gotta get rid of the leftovers of his post-nightmare haze and calm himself down. It works for the most part. There's still a creeping feeling of dread settling at the bottom of his stomach. It feels as if it's waiting in anticipation. It leaves him more than unsettled.
"Get a grip, Jones," he tells himself. "You're acting like you're twelve."
He gets up and starts to clean. The prompt on the television asks him if he's still alive and if he would like to continue watching. He goes ahead and clicks yes to let the episode keep going. May as well have some background noise to chase away the remnants of his dreams.
So the show goes on as Alfred collects wrappers and bits of leftover food. He tosses it all in one back to toss away in the kitchen. He doesn't even notice until he leaves the living room. It's not by much but the front door is opened. Alfred drops the bag just as cold wind blows in through the opening. He does it all without thinking; rushes over and shuts it hard. For the first time in ever he locks it quick. Alfred can feel his heart pound away in his chest as a newfound terror washes over him. He closed that door behind him when he came in, he knows he did!
… Didn't he?
Okay, maybe he didn't? It wouldn't be the first time he may or may not have closed the front food completely. After all, isn't that what Arthur gripes about the most? And with the wind blowing so hard it's not weird that it would have blown open, right?
Right?
The doubt that he holds dear is the only small grace of comfort he has. He'd be lying if he said he didn't believe in a small bit of the bullshit superstition Arthur also believes in. Whatever, Alfred doesn't want to dwell on it. The door is closed, the door is locked. He gets back to cleaning.
It's still a little nerve-wracking and it does take him awhile to find himself being comfortable along again, but he does finish cleaning. He's exhausted by the end of it and decides that even though it's still a little early he's ready for bed.
Everything has been switched off. The entire house if quiet and Alfred is very obviously hesitating to enter the hallway.
It's stupid, it was just a dream. He'll turn the corner and it's gonna be the small little expanse of a hall and his bedroom door is gonna be right there.
He takes a step forward.
He takes a step back.
"Goddammit!"
Alfred huffs. "Fuckin' level up, Jones! Stop being a fuckin' baby and just do it!"
He steps forward. And again. And again. And sure enough there it is, his bedroom door. He all but practically flings himself through the door. Alfred doesn't even bother with changing out of his clothes, he just throws himself on the bed and burrows into the mess of blankets and pillows. He's feeling drained to the point where he can feel sleep winning him over once more.
His eyes are closing, his breathing is evening out, and there's a loud crash coming from the living room.
Alfred jolts up; he's more awake than ever. Once again his heart is thudding about in his chest and he's terrified all over again. He's half torn between squeezing himself under the bed or grabbing his bat and finding out what made that noise.
He pointedly reminds himself that he is a Gryffindor and he needs to grab that bat and act like one.
So, with bat in hand, Alfred pokes his head out and looks out into the hall. So far nothing, but his senses do not lighten up, especially not when he hears that.
It's soft and titillating, It's an almost childlike laugh that floats through the entire house. It feels ethereal, nearly unreal as it fills every bit of the house with its presence. It nearly has Alfred run back into his room.
But he doesn't. He takes a step outside and creeps through the hall. He turns the corner to enter the living room… and finds himself back in the hallway.
Although this isn't the one he just left. It's the one from his dreams: blank walls that stretch on and on. Alfred turns right around and sprints back around the corner only to be met with the same sight. His entire body goes cold. Alfred spins again and only sees the same behind him. The bat falls out from his hand and clatters to the floor. This… This cannot be happening to him. No.. Not that was just a dream and this can't be happening, it's entirely impossible.
Alfred feels nausea building up. He shuts his eyes and slams his hands against his temples, holding them there, and chants, "No. No, no, no, this isn't real. This can't be real. No, no, no, nononononononono–"
He opens them. He's standing in the living room. He falls to the floor and sobs out in relief. His mind is playing tricks on him that has to be it. He's so scared out of his mind, it makes sense. He doesn't know how the brain can work under stress like this it can totally happen.
And then…
The thudding starts…
Something dull, and rhythmic. A faint thunk thunk thunk, and he's reminded why he got out of bed at all. Alfred doesn't have it in him to stand up. He crawls his way through the living room, thinking that maybe he'll be less noticeable even if there is something in the house–
The front door is nearly hanging off its hinges. The thunk thunk thunk is coming from the door knob hitting against the opposite wall with every small sway it takes.
Something falls down Alfred's cheek. It doesn't take him more than a second to realize that he's started crying. Another sob escapes him, something hysterical and it's in that moment that he remembers the bat. It seems far-fetched that it would be any real protection but it's better than nothing. He swivels around, still close to the floor and begins to crawl back when something latches on to his legs. Both of them.
They pull him down until he's lying flat on his belly and left to do nothing else but claw at the carpet in a desperate attempt to get away. He stills when something looms directing over him; pressed right up against his back and breathes against his ear.
"You are a very pretty one," it sighs. "Thank you for the invitation."
It's gone right after, and the hold on his legs increase, and Alfred is dragged out through the front door quicker than ever leaving only a lingering scream behind.
The house is quiet once more, undisturbed and looking as if no other presence has been there. The entrance is left looking intact, with no one being the wiser to the strange entity that had been allowed access to collect it's prize, and when Francis and Arthur do come home the only complaint that can be made is for the fact that it had been unlocked.
"Alfred!" Arthur shouts. "Alfred, where are you!"
"He probably went out for the night," says Francis.
"Well that makes all of this worse. How many times do I have to remind that boy to lock the door?"
"Arthur, it's been a long night, let it go."
"It's not my fault it took an hour to receive our food."
"No, it's not. But just let this go. We'll talk about it with him in the morning. Even I'm not comfortable leaving it unlocked while no one is home."
Arthur runs his hand through his hair with a long drawn out sigh. He turns the lock and steps away. He'll just have to remind Alfred again tomorrow.
"When will he learn?" he asks. "Just when."
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Disclaimer: the more you deny me the stronger i get
-HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE ~(^-^~)