Night 2 in the old stone house seemed to stretch on forever for Travis Montgomery and Michael Cooper Williams. After the long, unsettling day where Michael had been overwhelmed with inexplicable sadness in the kitchen, they decided to do what they always did in the face of stress—escape into the comfort of each other's company and a familiar routine. They curled up on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket, and put on a movie on Netflix, trying to forget the strange occurrences that had already begun to stain their new home.

The house was dimly lit, with only the flickering light from the TV casting shadows against the walls. The atmosphere, though thick with tension, seemed to momentarily lighten as they settled into each other's arms. For a little while, it was as if they were back in Seattle, where late-night movie marathons and cuddles had been their go-to way of unwinding after a tough day at Station 19.

Travis glanced at Michael, who had nestled his head against Travis's chest, his eyes half-closed, content in the safety of their embrace. They were watching a rom-com—a lighthearted distraction from the unease that had settled over them since moving into the house.

"You feeling better?" Travis asked softly, his hand gently rubbing Michael's back in slow, comforting circles.

Michael sighed deeply, nodding. "Yeah, a little. This helps." He looked up at Travis with a tired smile. "I think I was just overwhelmed earlier. Moving is stressful enough, and this house… it's just old and creaky. We're probably letting our imaginations run wild."

Travis smiled back, though he couldn't completely shake the feeling of dread that had been gnawing at him since they moved in. He wanted to believe Michael was right. He wanted to believe that all the strange feelings and occurrences were nothing more than the side effects of stress and an old house settling.

But deep down, Travis wasn't sure.


They were about halfway through the movie when the sound of running water caught Travis's attention. It was faint at first, barely noticeable beneath the dialogue on the TV, but as the scene on the screen quieted, the sound became clearer—the steady flow of water from a faucet.

Travis sat up a little, his brow furrowing as he listened. "Do you hear that?"

Michael looked up, confused. "Hear what?"

Travis paused the movie, and the sound became unmistakable. The kitchen sink was running.

"That," Travis said, nodding toward the kitchen. "The sink's on."

Michael sat up straight, his confusion deepening. "Did you leave it on?"

"No," Travis replied, standing up. "I'm sure I didn't."

They exchanged a look of concern before Travis walked toward the kitchen, leaving Michael sitting on the couch. As Travis stepped into the kitchen, the sound of the running water grew louder, and sure enough, when he rounded the corner, the sink faucet was fully turned on, water pouring out at full blast.

He frowned, his pulse quickening as he reached out and turned the handle, shutting off the water. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the sink as if it might start running again on its own.

"That's weird," Travis muttered to himself, his mind racing with possibilities. Maybe it was just an old faucet, prone to turning on by itself. Maybe there was some weird plumbing issue they hadn't been warned about. He didn't want to entertain the alternative—the possibility that something far less explainable was happening.

He walked back to the living room, shaking his head. "I turned it off."

Michael gave him a skeptical look. "You think we're just dealing with old pipes or something?"

"Maybe," Travis replied, though he didn't sound convinced.

They resumed their movie, but the atmosphere had shifted. The warmth and comfort they had shared just moments ago felt more distant now, replaced by a quiet tension that neither of them could shake. The sound of the running water still echoed faintly in Travis's mind, even though the faucet had been turned off.

They watched in silence for the next few minutes, but then, just as Travis was starting to relax again, the unmistakable sound of running water echoed from the kitchen once more.

This time, both of them froze.

"You've got to be kidding me," Michael whispered, his voice tense.

Travis stood up immediately, his jaw clenched. "I just turned it off."

They both walked into the kitchen together, their footsteps slow and cautious. When they reached the sink, the water was running again, just as before. The faucet was fully turned on, water splashing into the sink in steady streams.

Travis shut it off again, more forcefully this time, his hand lingering on the handle as if daring it to turn itself back on.

"Okay, that's definitely not normal," Michael said, his voice tight with unease. "There's no way it's just faulty plumbing."

Travis didn't respond. He didn't need to. The tension in the air had grown so thick that it was almost suffocating. Something wasn't right about this house. He could feel it in his bones.

"Let's just finish the movie," Michael suggested, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. "We can deal with the sink later."


They returned to the couch and forced themselves to finish the movie, though neither of them was really watching anymore. Both of them were too distracted, too aware of the strange, invisible presence that seemed to linger in the house. The water hadn't turned on again, but the quiet that followed felt even more unsettling.

When the movie ended, they sat in silence for a moment, neither of them moving to turn off the TV or get up from the couch.

"I hate to say it," Travis finally said, his voice low, "but I think something's going on here. And I don't mean faulty plumbing."

Michael let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch. "I know. I've been trying to ignore it, but… yeah. This place feels wrong."

Travis turned to face him, his eyes full of concern. "What do we do? Should we call someone? A plumber? Or… I don't know, someone else?"

Michael shook his head, rubbing his temples. "Let's just sleep on it. We're probably overthinking this. Maybe tomorrow, things will feel different."

Travis didn't argue, though deep down, he wasn't so sure that sleep would solve anything. Still, they were both too exhausted to deal with the situation any longer, so they decided to call it a night.


They climbed into bed, the soft sheets and familiar warmth of each other's presence offering some semblance of comfort. Travis wrapped his arms around Michael, holding him close as they lay there in the dark, the house once again unnervingly still.

"I love you," Travis whispered, his breath warm against Michael's neck.

Michael smiled softly, turning his head to kiss Travis's cheek. "I love you too."

For a little while, they just lay there, holding each other in silence, waiting for sleep to take them. But even as their bodies began to relax, their minds were still on edge, haunted by the strange occurrences of the night. Travis closed his eyes, willing himself to let go of the unease and fall asleep.

But then, a knock echoed through the room.

It was soft at first, like a gentle tapping, but it was enough to make both of them sit up, their hearts racing.

"Did you hear that?" Travis whispered, his voice shaky.

Michael nodded, his eyes wide. "Yeah. I heard it."

They listened in silence, straining to hear more. A moment passed, and then the knock came again—this time louder, more deliberate. It sounded as though it was coming from somewhere inside the house.

"Where's that coming from?" Michael asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Travis shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "I don't know."

The knock came again, this time even louder, as if someone—or something—was standing right outside their bedroom door, waiting to be let in.

Travis threw the blankets off and climbed out of bed, his legs shaky as he moved toward the door. Michael followed close behind, both of them filled with a growing sense of dread.

They opened the bedroom door slowly, the hinges creaking as they peered into the dark hallway.

No one was there.

But the knocking continued.

It echoed through the house, loud and insistent, like something trying to break through the walls.

"Where is it coming from?" Michael whispered, his breath catching in his throat.

Travis's eyes darted around the hallway, searching for the source. The knocking grew louder and louder, reverberating through the house like a heartbeat, until it suddenly stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Travis turned to Michael, his voice barely steady. "We need to figure out what's happening here."

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew deep down that whatever was happening in the house wasn't going to let them leave so easily.

The house was alive.

And it wasn't done with them yet.