These Trees Have Secrets, a just my luck fanfic

This is definitely one of my darker pieces. Sorry, haha

Tom woke up, and there was somebody screaming downstairs.

He stumbled to his feet, mind reeling, and made the familiar journey through the dark house to the room on the second floor. As he slammed the door open the screaming broke off into an even scarier silence.

Tom crept to the bed and sat down, peeling back the covers. There he was. Danny, his eyes wide, gazed back at him.

Sorry, he mouthed.

Tom smiled and pulled the brunette into an awkward hug. "It's okay," he murmured in reply, his voice sounding too loud next to Danny's silence. Everything sounded too loud next to Danny's silence.

Danny hadn't spoken in two months.

Tom tucked the covers back in around Danny's body and settled down next to him, just like every other night.

The next morning, Tom awoke in Danny's room. He was hanging half off the bed. Danny had disappeared- the covers had been remade, the pillow plumped to perfection. Tom looked around.

Dougie was standing in the doorway, a strange, tense look on his face.

"Morning," Tom mumbled. Dougie's jaw worked as if something were fighting it's way out. Suddenly, with one last, lingering look at the bed Tom was laying on, he turned and stalked away. Tom stared after him, the familiar feeling of dread in his stomach.

Danny wasn't the only one who hadn't recovered from That Night. Dougie had been acting just as strange. The youngest band member had become jumpy and nervous, shooting Tom half- scared glances and refusing to speak at all to Danny. So was Harry- they blamed it on Danny, still, and Tom hated them for it.

"Don't be such a pussy, Dougs, it's only a few trees!" Danny's voice was taunting, eyes gleaming as he jerked the blonde towards the line of the woods. Dougie moved with him, shooting an unwilling look back at Tom, who turned to Harry.

"He's not going to stop until we go in there." Danny had been obsessed with these woods for weeks now, ever since he had heard the stories from a local in the coffee shop half a mile away.

Harry gritted his teeth. "I know. But Dougie doesn't want to. Neither do I, come to it, and neither do you. Why do we have to humour him?"

"It's his birthday," Tom said, taking a step after Danny, who was now using both hands to drag Dougie along with him.

"He's drunk," Harry pointed out. "He's going to get us lost."

Tom blinked, coming back to the present. Shaking the remnants of the daydream-slash-flashback out of his mind, he followed Dougie down the stairs. Harry was sat in the kitchen, bags under his eyes, a cup of black coffee in front of him. He watched as Tom sat down across from him- Dougie, who had stopped talking as Tom entered the room, got up abruptly and opened the fridge with a slam. Tom scowled at him.

"What's got up your ass this morning?"

Dougie turned, a wild look in his eyes, mouth opening. But Harry snapped his head around to stare at him, and just like that the emotion was gone from his face.

"Nothing."

Tom turned back to Harry, still annoyed at Dougie's consistent bad attitude. "Where's Danny?"

Harry lowered the piece of toast he had just lifted and blinked at him. "I don't know," he said after a long pause. Tom shook his head, grabbed a cup for himself and strode to the coffee machine in the corner. "I don't know why you're both so adamant that it's all his fault," He said over his shoulder, "But it's not. Both of you need to get over it and stop being such prats to him. He doesn't deserve it any more than I do."

He exited the kitchen to a stony silence.

Danny turned up again later that day- he was in Tom's room, kicked back on his bed with a magazine, when Tom came back from the bathroom.

"Where have you been?"

Danny looked up at him, an apologetic smile on his face, and returned to the magazine. Tom slumped into the desk chair and span it around to face him. "Next time, take me with you. You keep pissing off and leaving me with them. It's driving me mental."

Danny's gaze flickered to Tom's face. There was a strained look in his eyes, but it was gone in a blink. He sat up and stretched, then reached out and trailed a hand across Tom's guitar.

"Why don't you play something? You haven't played since-" Tom broke off, warning sirens in his head, and quickly changed the wording. "-for a couple of months now."

Danny shook his head and shrugged, quickly pulling his hand away. Tom watched as his friend's eyes flickered from the guitar to him and back again.

Tom gave in, smiling slightly. He reached for the guitar, twanged the strings and turned to Danny. "What do you want me to play?"

Danny waved his hand. Anything.

Tom obliged, and the chords to Death Cab For Cutie could soon be heard throughout the house.

Downstairs, the dust was settling on Danny's guitar.

"He's not going to stop until we go in there." Danny had been obsessed with these woods for weeks now, ever since he had heard the stories from a local in the coffee shop half a mile away.

Harry gritted his teeth. "I know. But Dougie doesn't want to. Neither do I, come to it, and neither do you. Why do we have to humour him?"

"It's his birthday," Tom said, taking a step after Danny, who was now using both hands to drag Dougie along with him.

"He's drunk," Harry pointed out. "He's going to get us lost."

"We won't get lost. We're sober, he's the one who's been inhaling apple schnapps all night." Tom sighed at Harry's mutinous expression. "Come on, Haz. It'll just be for a few minutes. You know what he's like when he's hammered, he'll want to go get a pizza in half an hour, tops."

"Fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you." Harry growled. They set off after Danny, who gave a whoop and bounded off ahead of them. Dougie, realising he now had no choice but to follow, gave a long- suffering sigh and trudged after him. Tom swivelled his gaze between the blonde's back and the receding night sky, determined to keep the road in sight. He was so busy concentrating on not getting lost that he turned back to see the others had gone too far ahead for him to see them. Speeding up, he stepped into a small clearing and nearly fell over Harry, who was standing with Dougie, looking around.

"Where's Danny?" Tom noted the angry scowl on Harry's face and the nervous look on Dougie's. He knew what the answer would be even before Harry spoke.

"We don't know."

"You lost him?" Tom was exasperated. Harry's frown deepened.

"No, he lost himself. It's his own damn fault, it was his stupid idea to come here in the first place."

It was three days later, and nothing had changed. Danny was still bringing Tom to his room with his loud nightmares. Dougie and Harry were still refusing to speak to him, and Tom felt their anger directed at him, as well.

"This is ridiculous." Tom didn't bother with preamble, just stood at the door to Harry's room and glowered at the two inside. "You need to get over this. I haven't even seen you three in the same room for a week, why can't you just talk to him?"

Dougie didn't meet his gaze; Harry, however, clenched his fists and met Tom's glare. "Maybe that's not our fault."

"Well you're not exactly going out of your way to create a conversation with him, are you?"

Harry's voice was cold. "Why on Earth would we try to do that?"

Tom stared at him in disbelief. "Um, I don't know, maybe because he's your best mate? Jesus!"

"Was," Harry corrected him quietly, and there was something more in his face now, something unidentifiable. "Was our best mate."

Dougie let out a strange noise, something between a whimper and a gasp, and Harry turned away. "I 'll talk to you later, Tom. Dougie was telling me something."

Tom gazed at him, stunned rage welling up inside of him. He searched his brain for a retort and came up black. "Well- fine. Just fine, then." Slamming the door, he stormed down the hall to Danny's room, opening it in the same state of fury- not at Danny, of course. Remembering this, he forced himself to relax before stepping in to the room.

Something wasn't right.

It took Tom a minute to figure out why there was a cold shiver running down his back. Twitching his hands, he strode over to the window and flung the curtains open, turning back to re-examine the room.

Something was definitely off.

Brown eyes darted over the desk, the keyboard, the guitar, the wardrobe, the bed, the piles of clothes over the floor. It smelt funny. Undisturbed, almost. The scent made him want to sneeze, like he had gone into his grandmother's attic for the first time in two years. With that thought, he realised what was wrong- it was exactly like an attic in here. Dust coated every surface. Clothes from gigs they had performed months ago still lay on the floor where they'd been discarded. A spider's web was hanging in the corner.

Tom felt his heart speeding up and stared around in dumb silence. He didn't understand. Why were all of Danny's things dusty? He must have been in here, he was never downstairs. He couldn't be out all the time. Tom bit his lip, an uncomfortable feeling twisting around in his gut.

Before the nagging voice in his mind could get any louder, Tom hurried out of the room, closing the door with a snap. Glancing up the hallway to Harry's closed door, he felt the anger from before returning.
"Fuck you," he muttered, and pulled out his mobile phone to call Danny.

"He's not going to stop until we go in there." Danny had been obsessed with these woods for weeks now, ever since he had heard the stories from a local in the coffee shop half a mile away.

Harry gritted his teeth. "I know. But Dougie doesn't want to. Neither do I, come to it, and neither do you. Why do we have to humour him?"

"It's his birthday," Tom said, taking a step after Danny, who was now using both hands to drag Dougie along with him.

"He's drunk," Harry pointed out. "He's going to get us lost."

"Where's Danny?" Tom noted the angry scowl on Harry's face and the nervous look on Dougie's. He knew what the answer would be even before Harry spoke.

"We don't know."

"You lost him?" Tom was exasperated. Harry's frown deepened.

"No, he lost himself. It's his own damn fault, it was his stupid idea to come here in the first place."

Tom sighed, irritated, and stared around, trying to make out shapes in the darkness. The forest engulfed the light; it was impossible to see anything more than a few feet ahead. Suddenly, the stories about this wood were swimming through Tom's mind. 'It's called Ripper Forest. You know, after that victorian bloke, the murderer? It's 'cause people was killed in there, all killed the same way, hanged from the trees. People started talking, saying they'd all gone in there to commit suicide, right, and there was a lot of suspicion 'bout that. Was they really killing themselves, or was they being murdered? Now they think they were all murdered by some nutter, but nobody's ever been caught. Police gave up, it was fifty years ago... they think whoever it was must be dead now 'imself. Deserves it, the sick bastard.'

Danny's eyes had lit up at the tale. He had turned from the old man to gaze beseechingly at Harry, Tom and Dougie. "Can we go?" His voice was excited, and there was a grin on his freckled face. Harry and Tom had rolled their eyes while Dougie looked stricken.

"Absolutely not", Tom had replied. But Danny hadn't shut up about it.

Now, the tales seemed a lot more believable than they had done in the warm coffee shop. Tom peered around at the trees, chewing his lip.

"Danny?" he called out, then again, louder. "Danny! Where are you?"

Danny didn't pick up.

Tom gritted his teeth and made his way out to the car, stopping to give cursory glances around each room he passed. Danny definitely wasn't in.

Tom started the engine and pulled out, still fuming. Every time he passed a teenager, he slowed down slightly. None of them were Danny.

"Fuck's sake, Dan," Tom murmured, "Where are you?"

Four hours later, Tom's phone rang. He didn't glance at the screen before he answered.

"Danny?"

There was a pause. "No." Then, after another pause: "Harry."

Tom suddenly realised what an idiot he was, trying to call Danny. Danny didn't talk anymore. Duh. He slapped a hand to his head, and then realised who he was talking to. His anger, recently faded, roared back to life.

"Nice to know you finally have time in your busy schedule to talk to me," he spat, glaring at the road.

Harry didn't answer that. "Where are you?"

"Looking for Danny. Why? I thought you didn't notice when your friends disappeared on you anymore."

This pause, though shorter, was filled with tension. When Harry spoke, his voice was sharp. "Where are you now?"

Tom glanced around. "Um." He realised he didn't exactly know. "I don't know, I just started driving around for him. I'm near a forest. Wait..." This place looked familiar... and not in a good way. Tom slowed down. He recognised that shack. And he definitely recognised that layby- there was still a dead dog rotting in the centre of it.

"Tom!"

"Alright, alright!" Tom snapped back. "I'm at the forest."

"Which one?"

Tom hesitated. "Ripper Forest."

He heard Harry's sharp intake of breath. "Tom, come back."

"Why?" Tom was nettled at Harry's commanding tone.

"We need to talk to you. Stop, come back. Now."

"You know what? Fuck you. I'm finding Danny."

"Tom,please. Come back. Please." and there was something scary in Harry's voice now. Tom had only heard that tone once before, in this very same Forest, in fact, just a short walk away from where his stopped car was now.

Last time Harry had used that voice, he was saying somebody else's name, though.

"He's not going to stop until we go in there." Danny had been obsessed with these woods for weeks now, ever since he had heard the stories from a local in the coffee shop half a mile away.

Harry gritted his teeth. "I know. But Dougie doesn't want to. Neither do I, come to it, and neither do you. Why do we have to humour him?"

"It's his birthday," Tom said, taking a step after Danny, who was now using both hands to drag Dougie along with him.

"He's drunk," Harry pointed out. "He's going to get us lost."

"Where's Danny?" Tom noted the angry scowl on Harry's face and the nervous look on Dougie's. He knew what the answer would be even before Harry spoke.

"We don't know."

"You lost him?" Tom was exasperated. Harry's frown deepened.

"No, he lost himself. It's his own damn fault, it was his stupid idea to come here in the first place."

"Absolutely not", Tom had replied. But Danny hadn't shut up about it.

Now, the tales seemed a lot more believable than they had done in the warm coffee shop. Tom peered around at the trees, chewing his lip.

"Danny?" he called out, then again, louder. "Danny! Where are you?"

"Danny!" Harry joined in, and his voice was aggravated. "Danny!"

Dougie stayed silent, tripping after Harry and Tom as they stomped deeper into the Forest. Tom instinctively reached back and grabbed ahold of Dougie's jacket- he wasn't losing him, as well. Dougie didn't pull away.

"Tom, are you still there? Tom! Answer me!"

Tom had no idea how much time had passed, but his voice was getting hoarse from yelling Danny's name, and panic was setting in like a smothering blanket.

'People was killed in there...'

A few feet away, Harry's tone had changed. He wasn't angry now- angry people didn't scream like that, didn't have that fearful look on their face. "Danny!" Harry was just as scared as Tom was.

'...all killed the same way...'

"Tom, fucking answer me!"

Tom dropped his phone as he walked, zombie like, into the Forest. He left Harry's yells behind him and followed his past self deeper into the trees.

There was no pretense now; Tom and Harry both were crashing through the trees, panting, yelling, running. They were going in circles, Tom was sure of it, and Harry was yelling into his phone as they wrenched themselves through trees and bushes.

"Pick up your fucking phone, Dan! Danny! Dan!"

Tom still had hold of Dougie's jacket, and Dougie was stumbling along behind him, silent apart from his ragged breaths. A small part of Tom reasoned that it was good that Dougie was quiet- for some deep, indeterminable reason it seemed that if Dougie started panicking too then it was real, this was happening, Danny was lost in a Forest where people died and a murdered could still be wandering-

"Danny," Dougie whispered brokenly, and Tom let out a sob as Dougie repeated the name over and over, louder each time, until each of them was screaming for their lost friend.

'...hanged from the trees...'

And then they found him.

"Tom!"

The voice was distant, as if it was still coming from a phone. Tom closed his eyes tighter and shifted, mentally patting his pockets for his mobile. The reception must be bad here- wherever here was- because Harry sounded crackly, and his voice was hitching, fading in and out.

"Tom!"

And then Tom realised where he was. He opened his eyes with a wrenching gasp, stumbling to his feet and spinning around within half a second of waking. His head spun, and he put a hand to it, pausing-

Danny.

Tom gazed at the boy standing across from him. His arms were folded against his chest as he leaned against a tree. His bright blue eyes stared back, emotionless, calculating.

"No," Tom whispered.

"Tom!" Harry's voice was getting clearer.

Danny cocked his head in the direction of the call, then turned back to Tom. A smile ghosted his lips, inviting, promising. You found me, it said. Well done.

No," Tom repeated, and he stumbled back. "No, no, no, no, no..."

"Tom!"

"What are you doing here?" Tom's voice was a broken whisper. There were tracks on his cheeks from tears he didn't remember weeping- come to think of it, he didn't even remember walking here. It hit him, how this was the same journey Danny had made in the moments- hours? Days? Tom couldn't remember how long it'd taken them to find him That Night- before his life had ended, and how he would never remember it, either.

Tom crumpled, sinking back to the ground, his eyes glued to Danny's face. Danny smiled back, looking almost quizzical, but there was something in his eyes. They were gleaming.

"No," Tom whispered again, and Danny's smile snapped off. He stood up straight and started walking over to Tom. As he moved, something came in to view from behind his head.

A rope.

Tom's body wracked with heaving sobs and he tried to scuttle backwards as Danny sauntered over.

"Tom!"

Danny held out a hand.

It wasn't just a friendly gesture.

It was a question.

Tom shook his head and mouthed no.

It wasn't just denial anymore.

It was an answer.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed. Tom continued to shake his head, and Danny's penetrating blue eyes never left his brown ones. His sun-tanned hand remained in the air between them. The rope swung back and forth across the clearing.

Harry burst through the trees, still screaming Tom's name.

Tom looked up.

Dougie fell to his knees a few feet away, gasping for air.

Tom looked back.

The rope was gone.

Danny was gone.