AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yet another story about ghosts! This was inspired by Ghost Adventures, Grave Encounters, Buzzfeed Unsolved, and countless other ghost hunting shows, movies, and parodies. It started off as a fun AU, but be on the lookout for major angst (I couldn't help myself).
This was also written for Hetabang 2020! Please check out the tumblr blog for it and bask in the glorious explosion of Hetalia content.
Also. Updates every Saturday and Wednesday. Lol wish me luck.
ST. AGATHA'S ASYLUM, RURAL ONTARIO.
Alfred had always believed in ghosts. Arthur, however, was an unforgiving sceptic when it came to the paranormal. Even so, he was willing to go along with Alfred's fruitless investigations. Perhaps it was the part of him that felt compelled to step over cracks in the pavement, and turn back when a black cat crossed his path. Perhaps it was because he just couldn't resist the thrill of sneaking into a closed-off building, or holding a séance in complete darkness. Alfred couldn't say he knew exactly why. He sometimes thought it was because Arthur just enjoyed his company too much. But that was before the camera started rolling, before they had ever set foot in St. Agatha's Asylum.
Though admittedly, even then things had been falling apart.
But Alfred was too distracted to see it then. He was too busy cracking open an ice-cold soda in the bleak winter of rural Ontario, relishing in the view before him while everyone else set up. The mountainside asylum stood before him imposingly, silently, casting its afternoon shadow on its lawn of long-overgrown weeds. Its darkened windows gazed like empty sockets, and with a bit of imagination, were matched with a howling mouth of an entrance, a big gaping archway pulling in unsuspecting visitors. The main building was extended on both sides, the east and west wing curling around like open arms. Arthur told him, once, that the building was rooted into the ground like a tree; there were secret rooms and hallways extending deep into the earth, like a reflection of the maze-like place above. James, the local who was begrudgingly willing to tour them around, never mentioned anything like that. Even denied it when asked.
The van door slid open behind him with a jarring creak, followed by a familiar huffed out groan. Alfred turned to find Yao hopping out of the van, running his hand over his face looking Done With Life as per usual.
"Alfred…" Yao crossed his arms. "How much did you pay for these cameras?"
"Um. Enough?"
Yao laughed sharply. Behind him Ivan was crawling out of the van, squinting in the light. "No. These are broken. You should be getting a refund."
"What are you talking about?"
"Two of them keep going out. A third one only sometimes gives a clear picture, but the second you leave it all it gives is static, though I really don't know how —"
Alfred couldn't help his growing grin. "I mean, I might know a reason —"
"I don't want to hear it!" Yao waved his hand frantically, as if shooing away the thought. "Keep your paranormal theories to yourself. I just need these cameras working. Ivan is going back to check in on them now. I'm just telling you now that we might not be able to cover every room and hallway."
"What happened to our backups?"
"We are using the backups. This place is too big. Ivan keeps getting lost and he's already been in there like four times."
Ivan ducked back into the van to grab what looked like a walkie-talkie, and began to jog over to the building.
"But we have the spots we marked up at least, right?" Alfred asked, thinking of the stairwell where a shadow man could always be seen seated, as if he was waiting for someone — or the bathroom mirrors with pained faces, or the chair that would rock even with all the doors and windows shut tight. Alfred was sure one of these spots was going to give him something amazing on camera. Yao was about to reply, and possibly disappoint him, when a soft voice interrupted.
"Um… guys?"
Alfred turned around, finding Matt looking uncomfortable a few feet away with the tripod in front of him.
"I really need some B-roll of the place. Y'know, before the sun sets?"
Ivan was still doing his slow jog across the weeds. Alfred laughed. Matt was smiling a little. Alfred forgot that he didn't have the patience of a saint, even if he sounded like one. Yet Matt was the only one of all the crew who took Alfred seriously. Right from the beginning, when they had met at university and the first thing out of Alfred's mouth was his latest theory on what's really being kept in Area 51 (and it wasn't aliens).
"Don't worry, Mattie, I got this," he said, before cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling. "Ivan, you're messing up the shot! Ivan!"
He was sure Ivan could hear. But he didn't seem to pay any attention. He groaned.
"Sorry Matt."
"I'll deal."
"Where is Artie, anyway?"
Matt nodded towards the denser part of the woods. "He went to take a leak, I think…"
"For half an hour?" Alfred squinted at the forested distance, looking for the tell-tale sign of a red cap amongst the muted browns of dead leaves and fallen branches, his vision was cut by the stark white bark of the birch trees. He wandered in that direction. "Artie!" he yelled. When he heard no response, he tried again, louder. "ARTIE!"
"Hey, it's okay, he'll come back soon."
Alfred glanced back at Matt, caught off guard a little by the way he was being comforted. Alfred wasn't that distressed about Arthur's absence. Matt must have read him wrong. Sweet, well-meaning Matt.
He laughed, a little forcefully. "That's cute of you, Matt, but really, you couldn't pay me to care where that history nerd goes! Anyway, I need a leak, too. I'll be back in five."
Alfred stepped into the squelching leaves, heading in the vague direction Arthur had rushed off to about half an hour ago. These forests, though they began and ended at some point, felt like an infinite maze. Every tree looked the same, the slopes and fallen logs repeating themselves, the thick shade of overlapping leaves and branches barely allowing through any dying sunset light from the sky, let alone a view of the mountains. There was no possible way they would have found their way here by themselves. Not without James, at least. Alfred stayed within view of the hotel, checking back to see its horrified face now and then, until bumping into a tree – a tree which apparently swore in French.
Alfred bounced back at the sight of James. "Dude, watch it!"
James only stood there for a moment, who for whatever reason, was holding a dirty shovel. His hair was slightly stuck to his face with sweat, his breaths puffing out like little clouds into the air. Alfred felt stared at, though he couldn't tell for sure through the tint of James' sunglasses.
"Mind where you're going," James said. He was quiet like Matt — looked a lot like him, too, funnily enough — but his voice had a huskier gravity to it that demanded attention.
"Where, uh… Where've you been with that shovel, James?"
James removed his sunglasses, looking blankly at Alfred with bloodshot eyes. "Keeping the grounds fed. For your safety."
Strained laughter came out of Alfred's mouth. He didn't know what he meant by that. Not sure he even wanted to ask. But James was a funny guy… Canadian humour! Probably. "You're a funny guy. Have I told you that already?"
James only grunted in response, moving past Alfred with his shovel in hand. Alfred swallowed, wandering a little further ahead. He'd been getting emails from James for a long while — ever since he'd uploaded the first episode of Ghostly Encounters. James was a paranormal enthusiastic like him, and eventually offered to host them for an unheard of haunted site in rural Canada. Or at least, he thought that had been James — he denied ever sending that invitation. Alfred wasn't sure why he would lie about that. It was in that moment, here in the dead of the woods, that something in him started to speak, a gut feeling he'd been ignoring harder and harder over the course of the trip here, a cold nervousness urging him to leave this place —
He spotted the bright red of Arthur's cap up ahead. He picked his pace up to a run, colliding into Arthur.
"ART!"
"Fucking hell, you startled me," Arthur said as he stumbled back. "And please don't ever call me that. What are you doing here?"
"We're setting up. What's taking you so long?"
"I was just on my way back," Arthur said as he pulled his cap over his winter-tinged ears, his teeth chattering. "No need to police my bloody bathroom breaks."
"Heck of a long one though, don't you think?"
Arthur walked past him with only an eye-roll for an answer. Alfred chuckled, whirling around to yell after him.
"Hey, we're bros, you can tell me if you were jacking it!"
Arthur only gave an exasperated sigh, and not a fun one. A real, grating, you truly are a nuisance sigh. Alfred didn't want to put too much stock into it though. Arthur had always been hard to read. Especially the past few days. The past few months really, since Alfred had done that one stupid drunken thing. Several stupid drunken things, actually. And he wasn't even really drunk for most of them. He'd hoped they would both forget, but three months later and things still feel… weird.
Back at the van, Matt had packed up his camera and tripod. Alfred guessed he finally got the shot he needed. Or had given up and decided he was going to film in the morning. Yao and Ivan were sitting on the edge of the back of the van, whispering almost conspiratorially. Alfred had a good feeling they might ask him again why their names weren't mentioned in the show's opening, despite being just as much equipment techs as Matt. Alfred didn't want to have to say it was only because the opening would sound too clunky. He avoided them and walked up to James, who was sucking on an unlit cigarette.
"Are you good to lock up?"
"Yep," James said, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a set a keys. He threw them at Alfred.
Alfred barely caught them, the question already out of his mouth: "What are these for?"
"Emergency keys."
"For what?"
"In case you need to leave before I get here. For an emergency."
"Yeah, we're not going to need these."
Arthur interrupted. "Alfred, it can't hurt to have them just in case."
Alfred scoffed. "You realise this defeats the whole purpose of the lockdown, right? If we were to have a spare set, who's to say we haven't let anyone in to tamper with the cameras or — or pose as shadows or voices or whatever. We're locked in precisely so we can say with confidence that no one else is here with us. Right?" Alfred laughed, maybe because everyone else looked so stupidly worried. "Guys, come on. We have to think of our credibility here."
"You don't think other ghost hunting crews keep an emergency set of keys? Or have someone waiting outside to let them out?" Arthur said, raising a brow. Ugh, that patronising brow.
"We are not like other ghost hunting crews. We're not entertainment. We're not even reality TV. We're making legit documentaries here. Legit investigations."
No one said anything. It was so awfully quiet out here by the woods, with only the rustling of the leaves. Why wasn't anyone saying anything?
"Ugh, fine, it's whatever," Alfred said, rolling his eyes. He'd dump the keys somewhere later. He turned to Yao and Ivan. "Are the cameras working now?"
"Just about," Yao said.
Arthur stepped in and held his hand out. "Alright, Alfred. Hand me the keys."
"What for?"
"It's simply best if you hand them to me instead," Arthur said. Alfred glared at him.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
The face Arthur had made at him then was all too familiar. That condescending, prickly glance. He really didn't trust Alfred, did he?
"Alright. If that's how you want it," Alfred said. He turned towards the woods and hurled the keys away, with a throw that sounded no landing. A pool of water, a pile of leaves, caught on a tree branch — it could be anywhere. Good.
"Alright! Guys, are we ready to roll?"
He would never forget the look James had given him then. It wasn't anger, or annoyance — that was Arthur's expression, for sure. But James, he had looked at him with something like horror, paled and speechless. At the time Alfred couldn't puzzle it out, let alone bother thinking about it. He was more concerned with the silent treatment Arthur was giving him, and whether the cameras would still be working when they finally caught the proof he'd been searching for all his life. They didn't understand it, not then, and especially not now. Because for Alfred, even if something awful did happen, he wouldn't care if they couldn't escape until dawn. If he could get real evidence of the horrors that haunted him at night, if he could prove to the world that he wasn't crazy, he wouldn't care what he lost along the way.
But that was then, and Alfred hadn't lost anything yet.
With reluctance, Yao and Ivan returned to the van, and the rest of the gang headed towards the entrance of the main building. Alfred was the last to enter — he kept an eye on James at the doorway, making sure he didn't hand out a second spare set of keys. The doors shut behind them, their rusty hinges groaning. They waited until they could hear the clunk of the padlock outside as James locked them in. The inside of the building was even colder, dark, and echoed their very breaths like a tomb. The camera started rolling. It would be this until dawn.
Alfred couldn't have possibly known it would be their final episode.
A/N: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review to let me know ;v;