Arthur's fingers were getting stiff from clinging onto Francis' shirt, but he didn't dare move them in fear of making some kind of sound. He already thought that their heartbeat and breathing could be heard a mile away, so he was surprised they hadn't been apprehended yet. He was too terrified to look up, he wasn't sure what he would see, and again he thought it might make some sort of noise. He appreciated Francis for being there for him. Feeling his arms around him, hearing his heartbeat and steady breathing and smelling his sweet scent from the shirt calmed him down. Arthur didn't stop to think how awkward it all sounded and may have looked, because at that moment Francis was keeping him from going crazy. In reality Francis thought the same way. Being able to hold on to something warm and calm eased the sense of immense fear he (and of course, Arthur too) felt. The best he thought he could do was concentrate on the breathing of his friend between his arms to keep himself sane.
Suddenly Arthur stiffened up and so did Francis. They didn't move, although the tension in their muscles and the adrenaline pumping through them reassured their bodies that they were ready to flee on spot. Something was near them. Nearer than before and they could feel it staring at them, sitting in a corner. They could hear someone sliding their fingers across the two walls at which meeting point the two friends were at. Soon the sound was directly above them and Arthur could only wonder between his thoughts of death how on Earth they were still alive. He felt Francis' arms around him tighten as the Frenchman started to panic a little again. All they could do was stay put and as silent as they could, hoping that through some miracle they wouldn't be noticed.
Suddenly it all stopped. The tension in the room was gone. The sound of sliding had also vanished. Francis didn't know why, but he was scared more than before. There was something about the eerie nothingness they could feel. He slowly and quietly lifted his head and opened his eyes. He tried to peer through the surrounding darkness but saw nothing. Feeling his friend moving, Arthur also looked up. Francis knew he tried to say something, but the words just couldn't come out. He was struggling himself to get out of trance. "Candle..." he could finally hear the Brit quietly cough out. "Candle!" he yelled and darted out of Francis' embrace towards the front of the vanity table. His hands bleeding from all the little glass shards on the floor, he desperately tried to locate their candles by patting the floor in the deep darkness. Francis also got on his knees and started to look for their lifesavers, his breath crystallizing in the cold air. His fingertips just barely touching the candles, he informed Arthur. Immediately the Brit got out his lighter and lighted the candles. Francis gave him one and they both backed up against the corner again, but the dark figure didn't stop in its tracks towards them. "They're mixed up," Arthur hissed and shoved his candle to Francis while taking the other from him. The Midnight Man stopped a few inches before them and stared at them, or rather, they thought it stared. Slowly it turned around and left the room they were in. "We're still in the game," Arthur sighed softly and hung his head on his chest, leaning against Francis. He put the candle on the floor to examine his hands. They were filled with small cuts, dark red blood oozing slowly from them. Francis stood up and went to the bed. He ripped a few long strands from the sheets and sat back beside Arthur. Gently he took his friend's hands and started to jerk out the pieces of glass stuck in them. They sat in silence, sometimes broken by Arthur's gruffs whenever there was a bigger piece lodged inside his hand. When Francis was done, he made a makeshift bandage of the cloth he had ripped. "We should go to the infirmary when we make it out of here, I couldn't get out the microscopic shards and I'm guessing you need a few stiches," he said when he had finished. Arthur thanked him and they both felt exhausted from all the emotional traumas they've been through that night. They sat in silence next to each other, half-closed eyes looking around the room they were in.
When they had entered the room, although it was dusty, it had been neat and in order, but now it was completely trashed. The furniture had been turned around and the wallpaper had been ripped from the walls, hanging off them in a melancholic manner. "Was the blood rushing and pumping throughout my body so loudly I couldn't hear the room taken down?" Francis asked more from himself than from Arthur, but the Brit answered him anyway. "I don't think so," he said and stood up, a little wobbly. He walked to the bed and looked at it good and long. "It's... dusty. The room must've been like that when we entered it." "But that's impossible," Francis exclaimed and also stood up, taking the candles along with him. He examined the vanity table they had been searching before and gasped as he saw that it was completely covered in dust. "Our handprints should be here," he whispered and jumped slightly when Arthur suddenly grabbed his shoulder. „Hey, Francis... Do you think we might have been..." He started to say but then shook his head. "What?" the Frenchman asked, staring at his fidgeting friend. Arthur sighed and looked at him, dead-serious. "Do you think we might have been caught in some kind of a time loop?" Arthur explained what had happened to him before and how the situation they were currently in was similar. "Don't you think it's weird that everything is suddenly covered with years worth of dust?" he asked Francis who was sitting on a cupboard. "Of course I do," he answered. "But how? Why?" "Like I'd know," Arthur snorted, looking at his wristwatch. He let out a laugh of relief to which Francis also checked his. "Only half an hour to go," he smiled heartily as he watched Arthur joyce around the room. "Come on, we shouldn't stay here for too long," he finally said, to which Arthur nodded. After Francis had recovered his salt container, they left the bedroom and stepped into the dark lobby, their candles only illuminating a little of their surroundings. "I hope the others aren't old as fuck or dead now," Arthur sighed, remembering what he had gone through before. Francis nodded and they set off along the eastern wall.
After about five minutes of encountering only empty rooms, they found a very content Antonio in a small room at the back of the house. They were both so happy and eased to see him live, well and young. "Hey, guys! You're still up and about, I see!" he greeted them with a grin. "Are you okay?" Francis asked, hugging the man inside a ring of salt. "Of course," the Spaniard laughed and told them all about his time in that small room. "Gilbert scared you?" Arthur asked, not being so surprised. "Yeah, that son of a bitch. But when I saw the real - Midnight Man -" he whispered, "it was so scary. But now I haven't seen it for two hours and the time is almost up as well!" Arthur and Francis felt that seeing Antonio being so happy also lifted their mood. They were positive and the Midnight Man didn't seem that scary either anymore. "But I am not surprised at all to see you two together," Antonio laughed, earning a disapproving look from Francis. "Where were you two? Snogging behind the corner all the time?" he chuckled, but stopped after he got a good kick from Arthur. "Please," he scuffed, "I'm not interested in him in that sort of way." "But he sure is." "Wow, you really are on fire tonight, aren't you, you tomato-bastard?" Francis asked with a murderous grin and tugged at Antonio's hair. They were all feeling happy until the sudden darkness swayed them off. Their candles had went out and it was getting colder by the second.
A little later Arthur and Francis were both sitting in their respective circles of salt and watched with disgust and horror how a long shadowy figure tried to penetrate the ring. When the candles had gone out, they of course had tried to relit them, but to no avail: Arthur had left his lighter in the master bedroom and Francis' was all out of fluid, Antonio's candle was out and his lighter was also missing. Just as the count had reached ten, they had finished their circles around them. Now the three of them were sitting together in a small room, waiting for the last minutes to pass. "Even if this stupid thing is out of time," Francis pointed angrily at the hungry figure roaming around the dark room, "we still have to deal with whatever was in the bedroom with us, Arthur." "I know, but luckily our movement wouldn't be limited anymore by the rules of the Midnight Game," the Brit answered and told Antonio of their creepy encounter they had had before. "Probably Gilbert," the Spaniard only retorted, covering his eyes with his hands so he wouldn't see the dark figure; it was weird how it could be seen in the middle of all the darkness. It was even weirder how Francis and Arthur had managed to pour consistent circles in the dark. "I sure hope so," the Brit answered and rested his head on his hands. He couldn't care less of the Midnight Man anymore. Sure, he was eerie and disturbing, but powerless before salt, but Arthur was also bitter from dropping out of the game before 3:33. "How do we even know when the game is over?" Francis' voice suddenly asked from somewhere in the deep darkness. Arthur symbolically turned his head to the voice and answered: "I'm not that sure. We can't see our wristwatches in the dark nor can we hear the grandfather's clock. I'm guessing we could just count to 1200 or so, since before the candles went out we still had about 15 minutes to go." Francis nodded, although he knew his friend couldn't see him. They all just started to count, trying not to be swayed off by the gackly noises the Midnight Man was making.
When they had finished, they looked up. The room was much lighter than before thanks to a ray of moonlight peeking through the heavy curtains. The Midnight Man was nowhere in sight. Arthur stood up with a sore back and hesitating, he stepped out of the circle, Antonio and Francis watching him. When he was out, he looked around and sighed in relief. He slapped himself and glanced at his wristwatch. It showed 3:46. "I could've just looked at it BEFORE I stepped out," he rolled his eyes and headed for the window. "The car is still there?" Francis asked, coming to stand beside him. "Yeah, luckily. Come on, let's head downstairs," Arthur replied and the three started to go back; cautiously, so as not to gain the attention of whatever was in the house along with them in case Gilbert hadn't been the one scaring them.
Kiku and the mischevious Prussian looked up when they heard the stairs creak, and sighed in relief when they saw their friends return. They ran to them and were greeted quite differently: Kiku was hugged or patted, when Gilbert on the other hand was punched or had his hair torn at. "I see you have a great plan," Antonio said as he looked at the almost empty lobby - the minute the clock had hit 3:33, Gilbert and Kiku began loading the car again with all their equipment. There was no way in Hell they'd stay the night there. After a few minutes they were all in the safety of their little red rental car and were on their way back to the guesthouse. Francis and Arthur told Gilbert and Kiku of the thing they had encountered beside the Midnight Man. The Prussian denied all accusations, to which the Japanese fell into a deep thought. "I think what Antonio saw the first time must have also been the same thing," he said after a while. "No, it can't be, it didn't come near me and didn't try to attack me by throwing anything at me!" Antonio said, shuddering in the passenger seat; Kiku had been chosen to be the driver since he was the only one not completely exhausted. "I think he wanted to but just... couldn't," Gilbert said. "You wear a silver cross around your neck, idiot. Silver and crosses are the best wardens against anything supernatural, dumbass." "I swear to God, if I'm cursed now," Francis only muttered and rested his head against the back of the seat. They drove back in silence which came from both horror and from being tired, and when they finally reached the guesthouse, they just dropped to their beds and fell into a thick sleep.