Mello stood at the window for a long time, glaring out of it, as if his gaze alone would drag Liam and Brad from wherever they were hiding to unlock the door and windows. That was the only logical explanation. Someone had locked them in, thought they'd be funny. If they were caught by Roger, the old man would definitely hear about this. For all he knew, Matt could be seriously hurt (a bit of an exaggeration but he'd just have to say Matt blacked out to help the story along) and the two older boys had locked them in. Sure, they shouldn't have taken the dare, but Liam and Brad had endangered Matt's life, so maybe it would be overlooked.

Matt, compared to the stoic, unmoving Mello, was pacing, seemingly on the verge of panic. If Roger didn't discover them missing first, the police would, which would be even worse. And the house was freaking him out. Something had pushed him. Matt knew he could be uncoordinated, but he also knew the difference between tripping and being shoved.

And now, for unexplained reasons, they were trapped in the house. Matt hated Mello for dragging him to this place.

Neither boy had approached the flashlight yet, as if some unspoken rule had arisen from its strange movements. For now, Mello led the way towards the kitchen, leaving the flashlight on the floor untouched with Matt trailing behind.

Both boys skirted around the gaping hole, hopping up on the old kitchen table to sit. Mello was watching the entrance to the living room suspiciously while Matt's eyes drifted across the room rapidly, as if to catch any strange thing in the act. But for now, the house was silent.

"I guess we'll just have to wait it out," Mello said at last, shrugging.

"This sucks," Matt grumbled.

The blond turned and shot him a quick glare before turning his eyes towards the dark living room again. "It's not my fault we're locked in here."

"But it is!" Matt snapped. "I didn't even want to do this and you dragged me along anyway! God, Mello, sometimes I can't stand you!"

"It's not my fault you're too much of a loser to stand up for yourself!" Mello growled.

"Go to Hell!"

Mello's glared hardened, hand subconsciously rising to the rosary Matt knew his mother had given him. "Fuck you."

"Wouldn't that be a sin?" Matt quipped.

Mello leapt up from the table, whirling around to face the redhead. His hands were clench at his sides. "What is your problem?"

Matt wasn't sure where the anger had come from, but he stood too, scowl on his face. "The fact that you got us locked in some creepy old house when I said I didn't want to go is my problem. You never listen to me!"

"You didn't have to come!"

Matt flailed for a response to that but couldn't seem to find one. "I couldn't let you come alone," he said defensively.

"Why not?"

"What, you'd let me spend the night in some creepy house where I could be mugged by myself?" The steam had started to fade from his words.

Mello slowly began to grow less tense, shrugging. "Guess not."

Awkward silence hung in the air for several minutes neither boy looking at the other. "Sorry, just annoyed that we're stuck here," Matt mumbled at last.

"Whatever," Mello said, looking at him. "So what should we do for the next few hours?"

Matt pulled out his game. "You should have come prepared," he chastised.

Mello huffed. "Not everyone is bored as easily as you."

Matt opened his mouth to reply, but a creak from overhead caused both boys to pause. For a moment they thought it was simply the settling of the house, but that was when the footsteps began. They held their breaths as the footsteps slowly passed overhead and away from them. "Someone's in here," Mello whispered. It occurred to both of them that there was nowhere to go. There wasn't even anywhere to hide. How had someone managed to get in the house?

Mello inched towards the staircase, gazing up it into the darkness. "Grab your flashlight but keep it off," his near silent voice commanded. The blond slowly began to climb the stairs, being as quiet as possible as Matt hesitantly snuck towards the flashlight.

Mello made his way into the hall before Matt was back. Holding the flashlight besides him like a weapon, he slowly made his way towards the first door. The door creaked when he pushed it open and he cringed; the footsteps had stopped now so whoever was there had stopped moving. He shoved the door open the rest of the way, raising the flashlight to attack, but no one was there. He stole into the empty room, checking behind the remaining furniture. The closet door was already open and he could hear Matt on the staircase, so he took a half step inside, glancing around. It was empty, and he made to turn around but tripped, falling forwards into the closet.

A soft gasp escaped his lips as a sharp pain cut through his hand. He fumbled for his flashlight, whipping around as the door closed behind him softly. "What the fuck?" he mouthed to himself, grasping around in the dark for the light. His hand flinched away from the feel of sharp, cool metal. He could feel the blood slipping down his hand and distractedly held it against his shirt, as if it would stop the bleeding.

Giving up, he turned towards the door, feeling around for the doorknob. He tried turning it, but the door wouldn't budge. "Fuck," he growled quietly, trying to force the door open. It didn't budge in the slightest. He dropped down to the floor fully, searching for the flashlight again. A ringing silence filled the room, though he heard a door opening farther down the hall. It was probably Matt, looking for him. He rose to his knees, moving towards the door when he heard another set of footsteps, these heavier than his friend's. He froze, breath catching in his chest as they entered the room.

He could hear the loud creaking of wood as the person paced through the room. He held his breath, trying to force his heart to stop pounding. He didn't know who this person was that was wandering around the house, but he didn't want some crazy serial killer hearing him and stabbing him to death. He prayed that Matt would have the common sense to hide himself or sneak past…there was no way he hadn't noticed those footsteps, especially because they'd clearly heard them downstairs. Now they were on the same floor.

He didn't move, tense for nearly a minute, before the footsteps started up again, fading away. Mello let out a sigh of relief, slouching to the floor. He waited a couple minutes to make sure he was alone before trying the door again. He unsuccessfully shoved at the door, cringing at any noise he was making for several minutes. There had to be a way out. Doors just didn't lock themselves! What if he'd been locked in? Or maybe the door was old and the lock was messed up, so it had locked on its own? Why did a fucking closet door lock anyway?

A huge crash from downstairs made him jump, and Matt's scream had him standing. Not worried about the potential serial killer anymore, Mello began pounding on the door, pushing at it as hard as he could. "Matt!" he called loudly. "Matt!" His nails dug into the wood near the doorknob, looking for any possible way he could make it unlock from the inside.

His fingers probed at the handle, and he paused a moment. It had a keyhole, that meant he would be able to pick the lock! Mello finally got a hold of his flashlight, flipping it on and searching the corners and shelf of the closet for anything he could use to get out and find Matt.

/…/…/…/

Matt hadn't been particularly happy to get upstairs and not find Mello in any of the rooms. Wary of the previous footsteps, he hadn't called out for the other boy, but by the time he'd reached the last room and seen no one, he grew nervous for reasons beyond some person wandering the house. He'd just begun to leave the last room when the loud footsteps began again, further down the hall. He knew it wasn't Mello, you could barely hear the boy when he moved if he was trying to be quiet. The redhead kept the flashlight off and crept towards the stairs, taking quick peeks into the rooms as he went. Nothing had changed in any of them, and a small flash of light coming from the kitchen urged Matt to rush downstairs, though he didn't know why Mello would have gone back down there.

But the lower floor was absent of his best friend as well, and Matt really was not liking the pattern they were falling into. He was freaked out enough with the potential of serial killers and ghosts roaming the house without missing his friend too. "Mello?" he called out tentatively. He wasn't surprised when no one answered and slipped back into the kitchen.

Matt glanced uncertainly at the basement door. What if Mello was down there? What if he had fallen down the hole and had only managed to drag his way to the stairs but not up him? He hadn't been anywhere else in the house so…he had to be down there right?

Matt pulled open the door, a loud creak echoing through the room. "Mello?" he called, shining his flashlight down the stairs. He didn't really want to go down there, but he swore he saw a flicker of movement so began descending slowly. "Mels?" No answer came and he slowed his pace further. "You down here?" The air was still and heavy with dust. Matt came to a stop barely a quarter of the way down the stairs, a sudden shiver passing through his frame. The feeble glow of the flashlight didn't do much to dispel the blackness of the room, and Matt wasn't so sure he wanted to venture further without knowing Mello was hidden in it. "Mello, answer me!"

Matt was starting to become convinced that Mello was nowhere in the stupid house. Finally worry that his friend was unconscious somewhere in the gloom won over his nervousness, and he took another step down the stairs.

For the second time that night, he felt an unexpected shove come from behind, and once again he found himself rolling down the stairs. Only this time, there was a loud crack of wood, and suddenly he was falling much more quickly. He yelled instinctively and before he could even process what was happening he'd landed with a sickening crunch on the floor, and everything went black.

/…/…/…/

The first thing he was aware of was the pounding in his skull. Matt slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly at the blurry wood in front of him. A small groan escaped his lips; there wasn't a single part of him that didn't hurt. He lifted his head slightly but his vision swam, and he slowly lowered it to the cold concrete floor.

"Matt?" Mello's voice rang from far away. "Are you awake?"

Matt forced his eyes open, wondering why Mello sounded like he was so far away. "Yeah," he managed, finally forcing his voice to work, even if it came out as a croak.

"Just…move slowly," Mello's voice cautioned. If possible, that put Matt on edge even more. He carefully allowed his head to rise, mildly satisfied when everything didn't start spinning. He used his arm to push upwards, beginning to inch into a sitting position. When his other arm moved to support his weight, agony ripped through his wrist so unexpectedly that he jerked it from the ground, causing him to fall back down. "Fuck," he whimpered, clutching his wrist close to his body. "Fuck, fuck."

"Matt?" Mello called, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"My wrist," he forced out. "Something's wrong with it."

"Okay, just…" Mello trailed off, for once sounding at a loss. "Just, keep your weight off it. Can you move okay?"

"Think so…" Matt reached up with his good arm, pressing at the tender skin just above his right eye. He pulled his hand, slicked in blood, away from his face and stared at it as if at a loss. "I think I'm bleeding," he said finally.

Matt could dimly hear Mello cursing in the background but ignored him, laying down fully and breathing deeply. Now that he had noted the worst of the injuries, he was beginning to become aware of everything else that hurt. His side was killing him, and he really hoped there was nothing wrong there either. "Matt!" Mello's voice had risen so Matt forced himself to roll over so he was on his back. He stared upwards, where he could just make out Mello's head peeking through a large hole in the stairs. They must have broken when he landed on them. Glancing down, he could see the tears in his clothes from the splintered wood. He wondered to himself why he was having such bad luck with stairs today. Had he broken a mirror last week when he'd thrown Mello's chocolate at Linda in the hall? "Matt!" The redhead blinked, eyes focusing again on Mello. "Just, focus okay? Try and get up. I can't come to you…if I get stuck down there then I can't go get help."

As Matt forced himself to his knees he wondered who Mello was kidding. They couldn't get out of the house anyway. Something moved somewhere to his right and he whipped around, instantly regretting it as another round of light headedness took hold. Still, he could feel his skin prickling as his eyes tried to take in the dark basement. He knew he'd seen something move….

Well, it couldn't hurt to get out of the basement as quickly as possible.

He forced himself to his feet, taking a moment to get his bearings before heading towards the stairs. Mello was lighting the stairs so he could see, and Matt began the painstakingly slow trek upwards. By the time he reached the gap he'd fallen through his side was aching and his head was pounding so much it took constant effort to keep his eyes open. He kept absentmindedly wiping at the blood slowly oozing down his face.

He glanced behind himself nervously, looking back at the hole. Matt wasn't stupid, no one would argue that he was, except Roger when he was being lectured by the old man about always being in trouble. Matt knew something had pushed him…what if it pushed Mello too? "Mels, back away from the stairs."

"Are you crazy?" the blond boy practically shrieked. "If you're even considering that jump I need to be nearby."

"Mello, something pushed me-"

"Oh not that again," Mello interrupted, though he sounded much less sure of himself compared to the last time.

"Just listen to me!"

"No! Matt, are you going to stay in that basement by yourself all night?"

He tensed. "No."

"So you want to try and jump?" Mello asked dubiously.

"I-I guess…"

Mello rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You could barely make that jump if you were okay. I'll back up, but I'm not leaving. I'm not letting you fall again.

Matt gave up (partially because Mello was stubborn, but also because he knew Mello was right) and steeled himself, trying to push all the hurting to the back of his mind. "Fine."

Mello nodded, nervousness leaking onto his face now that he had won. "Ready?"

Matt nodded carefully and Mello backed up several steps, leaning forward. Matt gazed at the hole, took a deep breath, and forced himself to make his way up the rest of the stairs quickly. He leaped as best he could, glad that neither of his ankles had been hurt. He flew through the air for a moment before his shin hit the edge of the stairs. He scrambled for something to hold onto but Mello had his arm and wrenched him all the way up. Both boys retreated up the stairs, Mello slamming the basement door shut behind him.

Matt was doubled over on the kitchen floor, harsh breaths tearing through his chest, eyes squeezed shut. Mello swore softly and was on him in an instant, forcing his head up. Despite Matt's pained protests, Mello inspected the wound on his head, using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood away. Moments later he applied pressure instead, causing Matt to cry out. "Don't be a baby."

"Ass."

"Shut up."

"You're the one talking."

"Only because you won't shut up!" Mello growled.

"Just stop…yelling…" Matt mumbled slowly.

Mello sighed. "Well if you didn't have a concussion before, I'm sure you do now. You're lucky you didn't crack your skull open."

"I think my arm kind of blocked my fall," Matt said. "It happened so fast, I just remember I was pushed and that's it."

Several minutes later Mello moved from Matt's head, which had finally stopped bleeding, and inspected his wrist. "It doesn't look broken, maybe fractured though," Mello offered as an explanation. "You're lucky it wasn't worse."

Matt watched as Mello examined his wrist, blinking when he noticed the state of his friends hands. One of them had a large cut across his palm, and his nails were a mess, though he couldn't tell if the blood was his own or Mello's. "What happened to you? You just disappeared."

Mello looked mildly uncomfortable. "Nothing."

Matt stared blankly at him. "Mello."

The blond avoided eye contact, a dust of pink dotting his cheeks. "I got locked in a closet, okay?" he snapped.

Matt didn't say anything for a while. "Wow…seriously? That's the lamest, most ironic thing I've ever heard."

"Shut up."

"I mean, you being in the closet is just so true, so physically being stuck in one-"

"What the fuck are you implying?" Mello growled, hand tightening around Matt's wrist.

"Ow," the gamer whimpered. "Mello, that hurts!" Mello's glare didn't falter but he dropped his wrist. Matt promptly pulled it to his chest and backed away from Mello, biting his lip in an effort to stay silent. "Bastard," he muttered, moving away and digging through the cupboard.

"What are you doing?" he questioned.

"Looking for towels," he muttered distractedly as Mello moved around the hole and into the doorway of the living room, looking around. He'd not heard the footsteps since he was in the closet, and he wondered where the mysterious person had gone to. He didn't want to tell Matt, but the house was really starting to freak him out.

Mello sighed, watching as Mello dug through the cabinets. He didn't know why he bothered, it's not like the blond wanted to use any filthy towel that would be left in this place. He turned towards the living room again, letting out a shriek when he was faced with a pair of black, dead eyes. It was a woman, her dark, ratty hair falling past her shoulders, white nightgown stained with crimson. He'd jumped backwards on instinct, even as her image flickered and vanished.

But he'd forgotten there was no floor behind him, and his foot met air. He panicked, throwing his weight sidewise, just managing to grab the floor as his legs fell through the hole. "Mello!" Matt lunged forward and grabbed wildly for Mello's arm, pulling his friend to a stop. "I've got you," he said unnecessarily, pulling Mello's arm and helping him up. Mello scrambled up, backing away from the hole on his hands and knees, Matt hovering beside him. "What happened?" he asked.

Mello mouthed silently for a few moments, finally just shaking his head, backing up until he was against the wall, wide eyes still staring at the doorway. The creaking of footsteps began again in the living room and Mello pushed himself closer to the wall.

Matt was staring towards the living room nervously, lowering himself besides Mello. "What's going on? Mello? Mello tell me what happened!" His voice had an edge of panic to it now. The footsteps stopped for a few seconds before resuming, this time from upstairs. Matt's good hand latched onto Mello's arm. He took in Mello's face, which was drained of color. "Please, Mels."

"A woman," he managed finally, voice faint. "She was just there and she…she vanished."

"Don't mess with me," Matt said, voice quivering. "It's not funny."

A door slammed upstairs causing Matt to jump. All was silent for several minutes, which was somehow worse. Just as quickly as the noise stopped, it started again, with the footsteps returning, only this time in the kitchen. Both boys jumped up, practically running into the living room and towards the front door. Mello tried opening it unsuccessfully. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeated quickly. "Oh my God."

Matt was shaking as the footsteps moved into the living room. Mello grabbed one of the few dusty books remaining on the bookshelf, making a beeline for one of the few windows that wasn't boarded up. He lifted the book, intending to smash the window. The figure flashed into view for a moment and the couch went sliding across the room, slamming into Mello and knocking him away from the window.

"Mels!" Matt called, wanting to run to his friend's aid but too petrified to move. Mello dazedly climbed to his feet, stumbling backwards and into the wall. He dashed to another window, trying to push it open, but this time a book was chucked from the bookshelf and hit him on the back of the head. A second followed and Mello retreated to Matt's side. They stood huddled together as the house once again fell silent, everything going still. An icy cold filled the room and Matt clutched Mello's arm, both of them searching wildly in different directions. "We're gonna die, we're gonna die," Matt whimpered, nails digging into Mello's arm.

"This shit isn't supposed to be real," Mello croaked, but the constant ache in his side from the couch proved otherwise.

"What do we do?" Matt asked weakly.

And for once, Mello didn't have a damn clue. At least a serial killer was human; they could have just made a run for it if that had been the case. Wammy house hadn't prepared them for dealing with ghosts.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, voice quiet. And that was what scared the duo most of all. They didn't know what to do. They were helpless, and Mello found himself vividly hoping that Liam and Brad ratted them out and the old man would march down here and find a way to get them out, because it wasn't looking likely that they'd be doing it themselves.

/…/…/…/

AN: Sorry for the long wait guys, I just got really busy. I meant to do a lot more writing over winter break but I've not been home a lot of the time because of friends and work. But hey, I finally got this done…a couple months late. One more chapter after this one, hope you guys liked.