Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Can we do a modern?" Chase asked Deacon while scrolling through YouTube for something interesting to listen to. He was laying on Deacon's floor, because floor time. Deacon was typing some things out on his computer. Probably notes, or maybe he was working on his movie that Chase bet him 20 bucks wouldn't get finished. 

"Like what?" Deacon asked flatly. He always sounded flat-of-voice when he was only half-focused on what the person he was talking to was saying, so Chase didn't look too much into it.

"Eh... I dunno." Chase shut his phone off and sighed, putting his arms above his head to stretch his back somewhat. He took a minute before sitting up. "I could go raid Grandpa's library?"

"Do you think he'd have anything written in the last... oh, 30 years?"

"Fair enough. I could still look, though."

"Alright, go."

So, Chase got up (his knees popped as he stood) and went to rummage through Grandpa's library. He found a longer one called Jennifer's Body, published in 2009. It was the newest one in the library. It was probably going to be their best bet. He shrugged and took it back to Deacon.

"And Prunella's with her parents on something, right?" he asked as he set the book on Deacon's desk. He then flopped onto his cousin's bed. It was hard as a rock; no wonder Deacon had back problems already.

"Mhm."

Real committal.

Chase took a nap while waiting for Deacon to finish up with whatever he was doing. Deacon eventually shook him awake and hauled him up to the attic to greet the Keys and tell them good morning and whatnot. 

...

Chase was on the bleachers during some pep rally deal as they first started. He was crowded around by a bunch of people he didn't know, immediately looking around for Deacon or Buddy or Wave. 

He saw Buddy first. Apparently he was a cheerleader in this story, because he and a bunch of girls were doing things with flags and cartwheels and whatnot. He couldn't find Deacon or Wave, though.

Someone tossed Buddy a blue and red and yellow flag, which he caught, doing some colorguard things with it. He also caught Chase's eye and waved a bit to him. Chase waved back habitually. Then, Buddy raised his arm higher to wave to the rest of the people in the stands.

"You're totally lesbi-gay," someone behind Chase said. Not expecting it, he jolted.

"Sorry?" he asked, turning around to face the girl who said it.

She sort of waved, mockingly, and did that stupid giggle people do when they make fun of others for smiling or something along those lines.

Chase turned around again and focused on Buddy.

...

After the rally, Chase wandered around a bit to find Deacon and Buddy. Wave probably wasn't going to be here today, or he was just late. Chase was admittedly hoping for the latter.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Buddy. "Looking for me?" he asked with a slight smile.

"Yeah," Chase replied, looking down at Buddy's new outfit. He'd changed after the rally, obviously, because he needed active wear and wasn't going to be in it after. Duh. Now, he wore a fitted purple jacket that was half-unzipped with the hem at his seventh (?) rib. Under he wore a white polo with a lower hem and a few buttons undone at the top, exposing his clavicle and Violet's cord, but the shirt ended just above his navel. He also wore low-rise flares that Chase had to say fit his legs quite nicely.

Buddy was kind of fidgeting with Violet's cord, moving Violet's key about on it and whatnot. "Freckles is in the band room," he informed, using his free hand to fix Chase's hair for some reason before it fell back to his side. "Uhm, do you want to go out tonight?"

Chase blinked, and then smiled. "Where?" he asked, taking Buddy's hand to lead him off to a quieter place that was less crowded. 

"There's um- I know you don't drink, but there's a dive bar somewhere in town called Melody Lane?"

Chase led Buddy outside to the courtyard. "I'd be okay with that," he hummed, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from giggling. Laughter was bubbling up to his throat. He enjoyed how awkward and albeit dorky Buddy looked right now. It was so unlike him.

"There's a band playing tonight, too," Buddy added, squeezing Chase's hand lightly. "Low Shoulder, I believe?"

"They sound like a bad band," Chase teased. "But I'll go with you. It'll be better with you."

"R-Right," Buddy said, his cheeks reddening. "I can pick you up tonight?"

"All right."

Chase gave Buddy a goodbye peck on the cheek before heading off. 

Which house is mine?

Chapter Text

Chase eventually found Needy's house. It was cute, but small on the outside. The rooms on the inside were like a maze. He eventually found what he assumed was Needy's  room on the top floor, kind of like in the attic.

Needy really liked butterflies, it seemed, because she had taxidermy ones on the ceiling above her desk and three in a frame hung up next to her bed.

Chase didn't let it bug him. He flopped down onto the bed for a few minutes before he heard the door open and close downstairs. Two pairs of feet were coming to Needy's room. To check who it was, he opened the bedroom door and peered out into the hallway. 

Buddy was here already, and he was dragging Deacon along behind him by his arm. Buddy looked grumpy now instead of the dorky he'd been earlier.

"We don't have to leave until 8:30," Buddy informed Chase as he entered the room, taking Deacon, who looked very exasperated, with him. 

"Alright," Chase sighed, looking at the clock. They had four hours. And Dorkin was ruining it by being there. 

...

They all just talked about random things for a while. Deacon was laying on the floor because his back hurt, and Buddy and Chase were in the bed, playing footsies under the covers.

Buddy said that Deacon saw him in a hallway and was confused on why Chase wasn't with him and when Buddy told him where he was Deacon didn't really believe him so Buddy had to bring him to Needy's place to prove a point, essentially.

Chase kind of giggled at that. He thought it was just a silly thing to happen.

When 8:00 rolled around, they were all in the kitchen. Chase was trying to find something to eat and Buddy and Deacon were just there. Deacon was kind of sleepy, having just woken up from his nap on the floor. He was just sitting at the table. 

"Why is everything in here marked with 'Jennifer'," Chase scoffed, grabbing a bottle of apple juice from the fridge.

"Jennifer and Needy are close friends," Buddy replied. He was sitting on the floor, playing with Needy's ferret Specter. "Jennifer spends a lot of time at Needy's house."

"The villainess and the heroine are friends?"

"For a time, they were. Jennifer kills a friend of Needy's and then gets her boyfriend, Chip" - here he pointed to Deacon with his eyes, kind of - "and Needy kills her back eventually."

"Oh! Okay..."

Chase found some bologna in the fridge. Bologna was always gross by itself, so he didn't eat it. It was the taste of it and the texture that bothered him. It was just weird to him. He rummaged around for something else for a bit, but he just settled on bread and butter after a few minutes longer of searching. 

Specter kept chirping at Buddy, hopping over his legs before deciding to climb up him. Buddy made a little chirping noise back before scooping Specter up and scratching under his chin with the nail of his index finger. 

8:30 soon rolled around, and Chase and Buddy got ready to go.

Buddy went out to start the car. 

"Which one is Buddy stalking?" Deacon asked Chase groggily from the dining room. 

"Uhh... Supposed to be lead singer, I think?" Chase replied as he adjusted his jacket. 

"Of course."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Go have fun."

Chase went out to the car after making sure he had his phone and also Needy's phone. He almost forgot this book was written in 2008. Buddy was already in the car, waiting. So, Chase went round to the passenger side and got in.

...

Buddy couldn't drive.

At all.

Chase was sure that they were going over the speed limit, they almost missed a turn, Buddy almost hit somebody. Among others incidents.

But they made it to the dive bar. So that was that.

"Why are you grabbing the handle?" Buddy asked, turning to face the blond. "We're parked."

"Are you sure?" Chase asked. His legs were shaking, and frankly he didn't want to get out yet in case the ground started getting closer.

Buddy scoffed and rolled his eyes before getting out of the car. He came around to Chase's side and physically hauled him out. 

When they got inside, they had to show IDs, which wasn't unexpected, and they got their hands marked with Xs so the bartenders would know not to serve them alcohol. 

"How much do you wanna bet the water is disgusting here?" Buddy asked with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. They walked around a bit.

"Look at this place and ask me that again," Chase scoffed, following Buddy.

"Hey, Jennifer," some guy in a letterman jacket said to Buddy. He was leaning back against a wall with a hand on the top of his head with his other hand holding a beer bottle. "You look very pretty."

Buddy just rolled his eyes and kept walking. Getting a few feet away, out of earshot, Buddy turned to Chase. "He's an idiot if he thinks he's cute enough."

"Dude, be nice. Nobody can help the way they look."

Buddy shrugged and leaned against a podium. He grabbed a box of cigarettes from a nearby table with no patrons sitting at it and got one out before putting the box back. He settled it between his teeth and rummaged through his pockets for something, probably a lighter, but some big burly guy in a camo baseball cap and sunglasses snatched it from between his lips.

"Jennifer Check," the man said, "You shouldn't poison yourself with that shit." He tossed the cigarette into a garbage can and took off his glasses. "Or else I'll have to arrest you for possession."

"How are you going to arrest me?" Buddy scoffed. "You're not even out of the academy yet, Roman."

"Two more months," Roman said as he swigged his beer. "Then I'm on the force for reals."

Chase glanced at Buddy, who clicked his tongue in his mouth before standing upright.

"Are you, uh, are you gonna cuff me?" He grabbed at the guy's groin, and Chase turned his head away so he wouldn't have to watch. He focused on the little stage (more like a dais) where a band had some of their things out.

He heard Roman groan softly, "Don't do that... 'kay, not here."

"Hey," Chase hummed, interrupting. He felt Buddy turn around next to him. "The band's showing up. You can tell they're from the city."

"Yeah; they're wearing eyeliner. They look like a bunch of faygos."

Buddy rolled his eyes and chewed his bottom lip. "Well, you would think that, Roman, because you're a small-time Gomer. I wish we had more guys like that in Devil's Kettle. All stylish and shit." 

Chase turned around again. Roman had left. He felt Buddy's eyes on his head. He turned around again to see Buddy just watching him, his pupils wide with interest and his lips slightly parted as he focused on Chase. 

Buddy perked up a bit once he realized Chase had turned back to him. 

"Hey, uhm, let's get closer to the dais," he chirped suddenly, taking Chase's hand and leading him towards the band. "I can do the talking."

The lead singer met them at the lip of the stage. He kind of reminded Chase of Buddy, but with brown eyes and some stubble instead of blue eyes and a smooth-shaven jaw.

"Hi, uh, we just really wanted to meet you or something?" Buddy said awkwardly, outstretching his free hand. "I'm Jennifer Check, and this is my friend." He tugged Chase forward a little.

"I'm Nikolai Wolf," the man replied, reaching down and pumping Buddy's hand. "And this is my band."

"Yeah!" Buddy sort of sighed, "Low Shoulder, right? I heard you guys are super, super good at playing your instruments."

"I hope we can live up to... such high praise."

Chase hated how fake this guy was. It wasn't even good enough to pretend to be for show.

"Why are you guys playing here specifically?" Chase asked. "Devil's Kettle? You're from the city."

"Yeah. But I think it’s so important to connect with our fans in- ahem shitty areas too. Plus, the audiences in small towns really appreciate us," Nikolai replied.

It sounded like pure lies.

Chapter Text

"Can I, uh, can I buy you a drink?" Buddy asked, squeezing Chase's hand tightly as he felt the other boy's glare settle onto him.

"Sure," Nikolai replied, blinking a little bit as if shocked. "What are we having?"

"They have this... really awesome 9/11 tribute shooter. It's red, white, and blue but you have to drink it really fast or it turns brownish.."

"Alright, well, we'll drink it fast."

Buddy nodded a bit and left to go get the drinks. Chase went with him.

"The heck is 9/11?" Buddy asked Chase softly.

"When... the Twin Towers were attacked?" Chase replied. 

That only seemed to confuse Buddy further, so Chase just shrugged his shoulders and dropped it.

"Um, how are you going to get drinks?" he asked instead.

"Roman can buy."

"And where is Roman?"

Buddy shrugged. "He's somewhere. Or I can just play Hello Titty with the bartender." He snorted a little.

Chase followed him to the bar, keeping his eyes on the band as Buddy told Roman, who had been buy the bar, what to get. Nikolai kept glancing at Buddy and muttering things to his bandmates. Chase read the word 'virgin' on Nikolai's lips. He was really hoping they weren't cherry-hounds.

"Buddy?" Chase said softly, squeezing Buddy's bicep through his coat. "I'm gonna go find the restroom."

"Okay."

Chase walked around the tavern, getting closer to the band but not so visibly that they would know he was listening.

They were just talking about the likelihood that Buddy's role was a virgin state-fair butter-face princess (whatever that meant) and how girls like him always show it off but never give it up. 

Nikolai was making his bassist uncomfortable with these accusations. They began to argue. Chase decided to go say something. 

"Excuse me," he said half-politely as he got closer to the dais. Nikolai and his bassist turned to him. "Hi, uhm, please do not talk about my friend like that. She doesn't like it, and frankly it's not very pleasant to hear grown ass men talking about a teenage girl like this. She's just being nice and getting drinks for you because you're playing. Not because she wants to lead you on or whatever you're thinking, okay? Quit thinking a 17-year-old girl is gonna sleep with a... a what, 30-some-odd man, alright? Because she's not."

Chase turned around to go find Buddy again. He was taking the drinks back to the band. One of them wasn't as full as the other.

"Those guys are asses," Chase mumbled to him once they met up.

"Tell me something I don't know," Buddy scoffed back. "The lead singer's into Jennifer."

"Only because he thinks she's a virgin. I heard them talking."

Buddy rolled his eyes and gently nudged Chase aside. "She's not even... Never mind." He brought the drinks to Nikolai and they clinked their glasses together before tossing them back. Buddy grimaced and came back to Chase with his empty glass. "These are disgusting."

"What do they taste like?" Chase asked, taking the glass and sniffing it a little to see if there was a strong smell that he could even somewhat taste. It smelled kind of sweet.

"Just... gross."

"Good evening, Devil's Lake!" Nikolai announced from the dais.

"Devil's Kettle!" someone shouted from behind them.

Chapter Text

"Fuckin' A, you're right it is," Nikolai said awkwardly, pointing at whoever said it. 

Buddy took Chase's hand again and brought him over to the dais as the band started to play. Chase thought they were supposed to be an indie-rock band, but really they sounded like every garage-boy-band in the early 2000s. And it wasn't the early 2000s; it was the late 2000s. They were three years behind. And these guys were either in their late twenties or early thirties. Most garage-boy-bands at the time were probably in their teens to mid-twenties. 

Not to say they were bad, because really they weren't, but they weren't the type of genre Chase had been expecting.

But then the guy spat out his gum to somewhere and that was just gross. What if it landed in somebody's food or drink? Do you really want a stranger's DNA in your food?  

But whatever.

He looked over at Buddy and squeezed his hand lightly to keep them from being separated with the crowd pouring in. He watched Buddy's jaw as it ticced gently, possibly from clenching his teeth. Buddy used his other hand to start fidgeting a little with Violet's cord again, but he stopped after a moment. His eyes were focused on the band. Chase wished they were focused on him instead. 

Buddy squeezed Chase's hand back finally, tighter. He turned his head to look at Chase for maybe a minute, a soft grin on his face, before turning back to face the dais. 

The people surrounding them were starting to sway to the music. Chase felt someone's hip accidentally brush against his, and then a murmured apology from the woman who'd done it. It seemed to happen to Buddy, too, because he moved a little closer to Chase. Their arms were touching now, side-to-side. 

He heard a sound over the music, sort of a loud clacking, like metal hitting against metal. He turned his head to it. A lick of fire had sparked and was now just shy of barely lapping upward of a cable or a wire. Looking further up, it was the pole of the lighting systems set up. The flame crawled higher and grew thicker with what it had already consumed. It made its way to a wooden support beam across the ceiling, quickly dancing across to the other side of the room. It began to travel lower, onto one of the patriotic semi-circles hanging down from the beam. The semi-circle caught fire immediately and fell onto a table with a man and a woman sitting at it. They shot to their feet, knocking their drinks over in the process. The alcohol fueled the fire. He felt almost fascinated by the flames, dancing like Maenads.

The band slowed down their music as people began to scream and shout. Others began to flood out of the tavern. One guy hit Buddy's shoulder, causing him to stumble against Chase, breaking him out of his fascination. He caught Buddy and steadied him quickly.

"Are you okay?" Chase asked Buddy, keeping his voice soft to avoid making himself panic. Buddy made no answer. 

People were getting stampeded. Chase felt himself grimacing and almost gagging as their bones crushed underneath human feet as they screamed while others caught fire.

He grabbed Buddy by his coat and dragged him off to the game area where he saw the sign for the restroom earlier, hoping there was a window in the bathroom. 

To his pleasure, there was. There was also a nasty-looking toilet that was covered in band stickers. He put the lid down and climbed on top of the toilet to open the window above it. It would be big enough for them to get through, thankfully. 

Chase forced Buddy out first and then went out after. Buddy was just... standing there, all blank-faced but wide-eyed. Chase assumed it was shock. 

He dragged Buddy further away from the building, hauling him over to the grass outside the parking lot. It was wet from dew. Buddy, regardless, fell on his knees in it, taking Chase down with him. Chase cradled Buddy's face in his hands, making Buddy look at him. Chase brushed some of his hair out of his eyes.

"Hey, Buddy," Chase exhaled. "Buddy, I need you to focus on me for a bit. Are you okay? Nobody got on you, you're not burning?" Buddy, again, made no reply. He was breathing heavy. Chase checked him over. He wasn't injured, thankfully. Some guy came out of the bar screaming. Chase looked. He was engulfed in flames. Buddy opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. "Bud? Buddy?"

"Oh, thank God you guys are all right," Nikolai said suddenly, making Chase flinch. "I've been looking everywhere for you two." He didn't seem very enthusiastic about them being okay. He was drinking something that looked like pee, probably whiskey. "Y'know, it's really dangerous out here- you wanna head some place safer with my van?"

"We have a car," Chase replied quickly, moving closer to Buddy. Buddy's face was wet against his palms. His eyes were glossy. 

Nikolai crouched next to them. "I'm in survival mode right now and I want us to get to a familiar place, and right now I feel like that's my van."

Buddy started to say something - finally - but Nikolai interrupted him. He put a hand on Buddy's back and pressed his whiskey glass to his lips. "Okay, this will take the shit off, great- are you in shock? Drink some of that." Buddy took the glass and drank some of it, but took it away. Nikolai pushed the cup back to his lips to keep him drinking. He took it away again, and this time Nikolai let him. He coughed a little bit.

Chase felt anger bubbling up in his chest. Nikolai grabbed Buddy's arm and walked off with him. Buddy was stumbling (limping, almost) as he walked. Chase heard Nikolai say something to him, but he didn't hear what it was. 

"You've got a really cool van," Buddy said quickly and shakily to Nikolai. He turned his head to Chase. "Needy, let's go see his van!"

"Why?" Chase said irritated, but not with Buddy. "We have your car, let's just go home! Let's- Let's go to a diner, or something!"

"Needy just... just shut up." He was slurring a little. He wasn't drunk, though. Shock was just wearing off, probably. Nikolai helped him get into the van. He settled on the floor next to the drummer of Low Shoulder as Nikolai closed the doors.

Chase already knew something awful was going to happen. Nikolai was skinny and twisted and evil, and Chase knew it for a fact. Nikolai turned to Chase with a stupid, dumb grin and shrugged before getting in the van himself, front passenger side. The van sped off, leaving Chase there. He knew he reeked of smoke, and he knew Buddy wasn't okay.

He stood there for a while, not knowing what to do. He felt himself crying, but he didn't even register it. He eventually realized he had Jennifer's car keys and drove himself back to Needy's. On the way back, he called Deacon on Needy's phone. He was saved just by his role's name, Chip, he remembered Buddy saying.

"Buddy's gone," was the first thing he spat out when Deacon answered with a groggy "Hello?" 

"What do you mean, 'Buddy's gone'?" Deacon asked.

"I don't know! We saw that concert, one song played before the bar caught fire and half of the people there died and Buddy and I got out another way and he was in shock and wasn't talking and was breathing heavy and crying and then the lead singer came over and got him to drink whiskey I think and then he took Buddy off somewhere in his van!"

Deacon took a while to reply. "Okay, Chase, I'm sure he knows how to handle himself," he said finally, his voice soft. "He's been through worse in other stories, and he made it out fine. Besides, if he's hurt, he will be fine in real life."

Chase nodded a bit, even though Deacon couldn't see him. "Yeah. Okay. Um, are you still at Needy's?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'll be there in, like, 10 minutes. Can you stay there?"

"I can, yeah. Do you want me to stay on the phone?"

"Mhm."

"Okay."

Deacon talked about random stuff to calm Chase down. Chase had half an ear. He couldn't get rid of the feeling of dread in his gut, and it made him want to cry and throw up at the same time.

He felt disgusting, and he wanted to get home and shower and scrub away the ash and maybe his skin with it. He could smell himself, and he smelled like bad beer and cheap cigarettes. He felt like he smelled like someone's workaholic father. And, frankly, he didn't like it. He didn't like that Buddy probably smelled the same, with undertones of lavender and jasmine compared to his of coconut and strawberry.

But Buddy was gone. And Chase didn't know where he was or what was happening. But he knew it wasn't good. He knew Buddy was in danger, and he knew he could have stopped it if he'd just done something more. If he'd done anything else, Buddy just might be okay. 

But who's to say he isn't okay? Maybe he is. Maybe those guys were just taking him somewhere else because of his shock and weren't actually doing anything to him. 

That was high hoping, and Chase admitted that to himself after several minutes of that delusion.

People weren't that nice. They weren't that evolved. They were still animals.

He didn't know what he was expecting. 

...

Chase got home within the time he'd told Deacon. Deacon was in the kitchen, holding Specter and pacing. He paced when he got irritated or nervous. 

Chase met him in the kitchen.

"You're okay?" Deacon asked, though he had already asked that earlier. He set Specter down to roam around and looked Chase over. 

"Mhm," Chase mumbled with a slight nod. Deacon turned Chase's head in his hands, still examining him.

Deacon sighed a little. "Chase. I promise you, Buddy is going to be okay. He knows what he's doing."

"But they took him in their weird ass van with the windows all blacked out-"

"Did you get the plate number? Or the model?"

"I don't know cars!"

The doorbell suddenly rang twice, causing them both to flinch. 

"I can get it," Deacon said softly, making Chase sit down at the dining table. 

"What are you gonna do if it's a murderer?"

"It's not a murderer, Chase."

Deacon left the kitchen to go answer the door. Quiet. Deacon closed it again after a moment or two. The sink started to drip. Chase got up to get feeling back in his legs, and to shut it off. He turned around to pace a little.

Chapter Text

Chase let out a yelp.

Buddy stood there, looking like he'd gotten stabbed or shot or something. His clothes were torn and crimson, and his nose was bleeding, and he had blood coming from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin, and his eye was bruised. His eyeliner was smudged down his cheeks like he'd been crying hard. He looked pissed, rightfully so. But he was just there. Not doing anything, not saying anything, not moving. Hardly even breathing. Chase couldn't see his chest rising or his ribs expanding. It was dark, so maybe he should have expected not being able to see the best. But if he saw that much blood on Buddy he felt like he should've been able to see his shoulders rising or something to prove he was breathing.

"What?" Deacon called from the foyer. Chase heard his footsteps as he entered the kitchen. "Oh... I'll... I'll leave you two alone for a bit." He left and went back upstairs. 

"Hi," Chase whispered, feeling ashamed of his earlier shout. Buddy's jaw ticced. Chase looked down. One of the legs of his flared jeans had been ripped off at the upper thigh somehow, almost up to the part where his leg connected to his abdomen. His leg was twisted wrong and bloody, and blood from one of his wounds dripped onto the linoleum floor, mimicking the sound of the faucet dripping. "What happened?"

Buddy's lips curled into a small, sarcastic smile. His lips parted slowly, exposing his bloody teeth. He was beginning to sway slightly, but he just turned away and staggered to the fridge. Chase followed him, worried.

He began rummaging through it, his body silent but his actions not so much. He found a rotisserie chicken and tossed the container it was in on the floor, opening it. He crouched and started scarfing the thing down, tearing it apart with his bare hands and shoveling the meat into his mouth, his hands shaking slightly. 

Chase slowly settled on the floor next to him, eyes wide in amazement. He'd never expected Buddy to be this ravenous, for anything, really. Not even chocolate things. 

"Slow down," he said quietly. Buddy growled at him in response as he kept eating. He sounded feral. Rabid. Chase shut up, until Buddy starting making coughing noises. Chase thought he was choking, but his face wasn't turning red or anything. Chase then realized Buddy was gagging. "Okay, to the sink!" He hauled Buddy onto his feet and led him to the desired place to vomit.

Buddy bent over and spewed out some inky, needle-y black gunk that looked like it was roadkill from Hell into the drain. He coughed a little more of it up after finishing. 

The carnage spiked up in a wave-like cycle. It didn't look pleasant. 

Buddy started to giggle. He crumpled into a ball on the floor, hugging his stomach, and was just giggling. It unnerved Chase, but he needed Buddy to be okay. 

He got a rag wet with warm water and left the faucet running to wash the gunk down the drain. "Hey, Buddy?" he said, crouching down next to him on the floor. He made Buddy sit up and hold still so he could wipe his mouth clean. He held Buddy's wrist, trying to keep him stable, but he felt no drumming in his veins. No pulse against his palm. He was dead. But he wasn't.

Buddy went quiet finally. He tilted his head back, turning his lips to Chase's jugular. 

"Are you scared?" he whispered, freeing his arms from Chase's gentle hold to settle one hand on the side of Chase's thigh, his thumb rubbing lovingly.

Chase shook his head. "Not for myself." He was being honest.

Buddy sighed softly, his lips pressing into Chase's neck. His mouth was open slightly, Chase noticed. But he didn't think too much of it. Not until he felt Buddy's teeth carefully clamp down on his skin, opening slightly for a moment before closing again, harder now. It didn't hurt, but it made Chase freeze. He didn't know what Buddy was doing. But he didn't have to.

Buddy suddenly shot to his feet and darted out of the kitchen. Chase heard the door close. Distant sirens, as well. 

He got up to shut off the water.

...

First period biology was not fun the next morning. Chase wasn't paying attention to anything. He was staring off into space before class started. Some girls a few tables away were talking about the fire the previous night.

"Hey," he heard next to him as Buddy slid into his seat. 

"You're all right," Chase noticed. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" Buddy asked. He had changed his clothes again. Why did he get to do that so much? To be fair, his clothes from last night were not gonna make it past the washer. Now, he wore a baggy purple jacket that was unzipped, slipping off of one shoulder, and revealed a blingy white fitting tank-top underneath. If the sun hit his midriff and lower wrong half of the school would be permanently blinded. He had low-rise blue jeans on, with a studded purple belt. 

"Last night-"

"It's just a book, idiot. I'm not gonna die from vomiting."

Chase rolled his eyes. Buddy always put off whatever happened to him like no big deal, excluding that one time on the island, but that had been a lie. Chase didn't even know his real name yet. But that didn't stop him from worrying about him. 

"People died, last night, Buddy," he reminded exasperatedly. "It's all over. Nationally, probably."

"Anybody we know?" Buddy questioned, putting on ChapStick.

"Deacon was at Needy's last night, but I don't know where Wave is." Buddy mumbled something under his breath. "What?" 

"Nothing."

Chase pressed his palm against Buddy's forehead. He was cold. Buddy shrank away from him with a slight glare. 

The teacher walked into the room, his expression grim. "This is a dark, dark day for Devil's Kettle," he began. Chase was praying he wouldn't yap on like his middle school science teacher. The guy hardly ever taught science, all he did was yap about elections and U.S. tragedies and football and crap like that. "Believe me you, I have lived through some... some pretty heavy stuff. We lost eight precious students, including Ahmed, from India, several parents, and our beloved Spanish teacher, Señorita Erickson."

Buddy started to say something, but Chase kicked him under the table. 

"Now, more than ever," the teacher continued. "Put aside your teenage concerns about... who's a cool dude, or who's a hoe. We can't let that damn fire win!"

"It already won," Buddy chuckled quietly. 

"Shut up," Chase hissed.

"God bless you, kids," the biology teacher concluded.

Some big jocky kid was crying at the front of the class. The teacher grabbed him a tissue.

...

That was all they had for the day. Chase heard the buses starting up. 

As he walked around to find the exit, he passed people crying in the halls, being comforted by their friends.

"There's nothing today," Deacon said suddenly from behind him, making Chase jump.

"Jesus Christ!" Chase sighed. "Walk louder or something. I'm tired of people jump-scaring me. Anyway, I think something's wrong with Buddy."

"You said that last night," Deacon recalled with a yawn. Chase had kept him up for most of the night recounting details. "And he vomited some stuff up?"

"It wasn't just stuff," Chase insisted, fidgeting with Silver's cord. "It was all black and minty-smelling and just evil."

"He might have inhaled too much smoke?" Deacon suggested. "Ate something bad?"

"There is no way that- carnage was just bad food and smoke. You should have seen it. It was bad."

"Well, then, Chase," the taller man sighed, "I don't know what to tell you other than that. I have nothing else."

Chase groaned. "I really hope it's just story stuff and not actually sickness."

"He hasn't done this before right? Then it's just story stuff; he'll be fine."

They walked past a stairwell, when a little group of Goths and emos came down. 

"Hey, Needy," one of them hummed, his voice soothing. He was kinda cool-looking, Chase noted. He had a lip piercing and painted his nails and had dark-colored clothes. Buddy might like his style. This guy reminded Chase of Simon a little bit. Just the hair and the overall attire and stance.

"Oh, hi," Chase greeted back. 

"Heard you were there last night in the fiery trenches."

"...Yeah?"

"Well I'm glad you didn't die."

"Thanks."

"Seriously." And then he walked off.

"Looks familiar," Deacon teased. Chase elbowed him in the ribs. 

*Nox found Jonas in the football/soccer field. 

It was so easy. He almost felt bad for the linebacker.

Well, of course he really did, but he wasn't a real person, and this wasn't going to affect real life.

The guy was just standing there, not doing anything. It was redundant; couldn't he go home and do that? But he supposed it was the shock of losing his so-called 'best friend' that he'd beat up the day before for talking to his girlfriend a little too closely, and lost the fight.

"Hi," he hummed regardless of his thoughts about Jonas.

Jonas sort of flinched away from him. "Hey... Jennifer," he replied after a moment. He started to look around again.

"I'm crazy sorry about your profound loss," Nox said, clasping his hands in front of him. "You were.. crying about Craig, right?" But he knew that he wasn't. Jonas was only crying for himself.

"He was my best friend," Jonas hicced slightly. He stood on his toes for a second but fell back down onto his heels.

"You know, I was.. there- last night, and I was probably the last person to talk to him. Like, ever."

"Wow."

"Y-Y'know what he said? Craig said that he always thought you and me would make a totally bangin' couple." He chuckled a little bit despite cringing internally. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Isn't so weird?"

"He's- He said 'bangin''? 

Nox chewed his bottom lip a little as he reached for Jonas's hand. It was large and dry and calloused as he settled it against his chest, over his heart. "Feel my heart, Jonas." Jonas twitched his lips, as if to say something he couldn't get out. "I think it's broken."

"Mine, too."

"You come with me, just for a little while. It's what Craig would have wanted."

Jonas nodded. "Yeah," he whispered brokenly. 

Nox took his hand again and led him to the woods behind the football field. He knew what Jonas was thinking: I know where we're going. I know what's up. Kids go to the woods to make out and hook up. I know what Jennifer is after... And yeah, I'll give her exactly what Craig would have wanted, right where I know she wants it. My God she is so hot, way hotter than Kate. She's probably the hottest thing I've ever seen.

It disgusted him. All Jonas was trying to do was live up to some tough jock fiction by shooting steroids like he didn't get beat up yesterday.

Jonas kept trying to lead with Nox. Of course he did. He was a terrible kisser, too. Nox kept trying to guide him, but he just wouldn't listen. He tasted horrible, too. Jonas was bulimic, so Nox really didn't expect him to taste great. But still. 

"Stop trying to lead!" Nox snapped after several minutes of back-and-forth. Jonas seemed stunned, but he complied for a little while. He shook Jonas's jacket off of him and onto the ground.

"You're so warm," Jonas noted finally, his hands resting just above Nox's hips. "Why are you so warm?"

"Shuddies."

The animals eventually came around to watch. Thank God. Jonas pulled away once he realized. A groundhog screeched. "Jen."

"What."

"Look."

Nox sighed and looked around. "They're waiting," he chuckled a little. He took off his jacket, his tank-top along with it, and pulled Jonas's jersey off over his head.

"Oh.. 'kay?"

Nox didn't really want to touch Jonas any further than he already had. "Do you miss Craig?"

"Of course."

"Well you're gonna see your buddy really soon."

"What, you mean like in Heaven someday?"

Nox smiled and shook his head. "Nope." 

...

Jonas was so, so loud. It gave Nox a migraine. The silence after, from everything, was soothing. He checked himself over to make sure he hadn't gotten any blood on his clothes. Violet would not be happy if she had to make him another outfit. He was guaranteed to get an earful for leaving, briefly, to get her to make him the one he had on that morning in the book. He already had, and he didn't want to hear it again and continued.

He ran off, away from the dismemberment. He didn't really want to look at it anymore. He made sure to grab his clothes with a clean hand.

Chapter Text

Chase got to Needy's home shortly before 9:30. Deacon went to Chip's after some little girl made him. It was Chip's sister, so he went along with her. 

Chase did nothing until 4:00, when he got hungry and decided to make himself a sandwich and let Specter run around for a little while.

He had the radio on as he worked. More Low Shoulder stuff. "And that was Low Shoulder, the local band who became unlikely heroes of the tragedy in Devil's Kettle last night. Eye witnesses say the boys helped numerous people escape the inferno, risking their own lives in the process. That's rock 'n' roll with a conscious, ladies and gentlemen. And guess what? We are honored to have Low Shoulder in the studio right now!" Chase felt himself scoff. Low Shoulder was full of grown men with beards and stubble and moustaches, not teenage boys. They didn't help anybody either. All they did was torture Buddy for some sick kind of foreplay. And they weren't even from Devil's Kettle. 

"How are you guys holding up?" he heard Nikolai continue. "Maintaining, man? It's not easy, but you know, the real heroes are the people of Devil's Lake. I just hope we can convey one tenth of their courage and... spirit in our upcoming album!" It was a bunch of BS.

He fed the ferret some luncheon meat and washed his hands before eating his own food.

"Hn," some older lady grumbled as she came into the kitchen. He felt bad for calling her 'older', because she really wasn't that old. Maybe in her late thirties or early forties. She shut off the radio. 

"Hey," Chase hummed. "Didn't mean to wake some you."

"Uh, God," she sighed as she settled at the dining table. "I had another one of my night terrors." She reached for a pill bottle.

"Technically it's a day terror, considering it's four o'clock," Chase mumbled as he nibbled at his sandwich.

"Right." She took a sip of tea.

"What'd you dream about, anyway?"

"I dreamed some bad people were trying to nail you to a tree with hammers an'... big stakes 'n' shit. Just like JC." She crossed herself. "But I didn't let 'em get you, 'cause I'm a hard ass, boar-tough mama bear." She took a bite of some bread.

"I can handle myself," Chase said quietly, squishing down the bread of his sandwich with his thumbs absently.

"Y'know, you say that, but one day you're gonna be cryin' out for me and I'm not gonna be there."

"Okay then."

The water of the lake was freezing cold. Nox hated it. He hated being wet, he hated being cold, and surely he hated being both. He didn't really like having to skinny-dip in this freezing water, either. It was August. But it was also Minnesota. 

He was just doing this to wash the blood off. 

He finally got to the dock after swimming across to the other side and back. He tried to dry himself off as best as he could with no towel, and got dressed again. 

He walked through the woods to find Jennifer's house.

...

Jennifer's phone was on her vanity. He searched for anybody named any of Needy's nicknames and found her saved as Monistat. He called Chase.

"Hello?" he heard Chase's voice say after a moment.

"I am feeling so scrumptious!" he laughed, kind of checking himself out in the mirror as best as he could. Jennifer's reflection did the same as he did.

"So better than last night?"

"You know when you kiss someone for the first time and your entire body is kind of... vibrating?"

"Sure."

"Like that!"

"That's good. Not puking up anymore Satan Spawn?"

"Not at all! I'm having the best day since Jesus invented the calendar."

"Jesus didn't invent the calendar."

"It's a metaphor."

"A metaphor for what?"

"Don't worry about it," Nox said with a sigh.

"Wait, I think Deacon's calling," Chase mumbled.

"Blow it off!"

"Just a minute!"

"Boo."

Nox waited for a while, before deciding to try an experiment. He grabbed the lighter on Jennifer's desk and stuck his tongue out. He lit the tip of his tongue for a few seconds before pulling the flame away. He couldn't even feel the burn. It felt strangely good instead. The charred muscle faded back to pink after a moment. 

"I feel like a god."

"I hope you keep feeling like that," Chase said while laughing.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"Deacon just- uh never mind."

Nox groaned in argument.

Chase met Deacon in the park a few blocks away from both houses, in between them. Police sirens were making Chase's ears ring. 

"Why are the cops at your house?" Chase asked him. 

"They're at the Kozelles," Deacon replied.

"Why?"

"Jonas Kozelle was killed in the woods behind the football field."

"Oh!"

"He was disemboweled and ripped apart. They can't find his heart or liver, and there was gnaw marks on some of him."

"Stop describing it," Chase gagged as he pictured it.

"Can't be a coincidence, right?" Deacon asked as he sat on a bench. "I mean, that bar you and Buddy were at last night burned down to the ground and now there's a cannibal on the loose? Maybe it's those Low Shoulder guys."

"Hopefully it's over."

...

The next few weeks passed the same or similarly as the day after Melody Lane burnt down. Not that Chase knew for a fact; they had skipped some time and he only noticed when he saw that the calendar in Needy's room had gone from August 23rd to September 8th, marked with small Xs over the numbers.

Everyone was dressed darkly and was crying or just numb.

Everyone kept singing that 'Through The Trees' song, and that was all that played on the radio. God, it was so annoying. 

...

"Before the period ends," Mr. What's-His-Face said, "I'd like to make an announcement. As you all know, today is the one-month of the... tragedy at Melody Lane, and the murder of Jonas Kozelle."

"Boring," Buddy scoffed with his head in his hands. His elbows were on the table. He looked horrible. Chase supposed he didn't feel like a god anymore.

"As I was saying, Jennifer... and Needy, I finally have some good news to shar with all of you." Why was Chase getting hollered at? He hadn't even said anything! "The members of the rock 'n' roll group Low Shoulder have decided to extend a helping hand to our community. As you all know, their song, 'Through The Trees', has become our unofficial anthem of unity and healing, and they have decided to release it as a benefit single. 3% of the profits will go to local families who have been affected by loss."

"What about the other 97%?" Chase found himself scoffing before he thought about it. "That's just stupid. It's their greed they're feeding, not the families who actually need it. 3% of... what, millions of dollars is hardly going anywhere."

"Low Shoulders are American heroes," that girl that had told Chase he was lesbi-gay argued. 

"No, they're not!" he snapped. "Okay? You weren't there; you were too busy getting a botched-up bob to go to their concert that night. Jennifer and I were there. All they did was play one song before the place caught fire. They didn't help anybody escape; they stood there for a handful of minutes while we got out. We saw nobody being helped. Everyone was stampeding through the front doors until it went up in flames, and then they were locked inside. That's what happened. The only reason Low Shoulder is still alive is because they stampeded over others, killed others, and got out of Dodge. I don't know how that rumor got started."

"Rumor?" she repeated. "It's true. It's on their Wikipedia."

That's the first problem, Chase huffed internally. "We wouldn't even know who they were if they hadn't been playing. And the fire started because of their equipment being faulty. I saw it."

Buddy kicked his shin under the table.

"You take that back, Needy Lesnicki."

"Girls-" the teacher began.

"We need them now more than ever!"

"That's enough," the teacher finished.

The bell rang and everyone began to pack up.

"I'm already tired of that BS song," Chase grumbled to Buddy.

"It's really poorly produced," Buddy agreed. "The bass can't get any lower in the mix."

"Hey, no offense, but you look exhausted," Chase said to change the subject.

"Because I am," Buddy retorted. "I'm breaking out, and my hair is lifeless. I feel normal."

"I dunno, maybe it's PMS? Guys do that too."

"PMS isn't real, Chase. People only made that up to excuse aggression and violence. You're either too emotional or too absent. Don't look at me like that. It's just wearing off or something..." He yawned.

"What's wearing off?"

Buddy didn't answer.

"Hello, Needy," that emo guy said to Chase. He wore red-and-black today instead of that purple-and-black outfit from last time. He was fidgeting with a rosary tied around his wrist. "Hey, Jennifer."

"Colin," Buddy said back. "Can I borrow your English homework again? I forgot to read Hamlet. Is he gonna fuck his mom?"

And, honestly, that wasn't the crudest thing Buddy said in this story.

"Wha- Uh- No- I don't- I don't- I don't think so- Um, I actually wanted to- to ask you something..."

"You wanna know if I'll go out with you."

"No-" he kind of chuckled at this. "Ye- What? I- I don't g- How'd- How did- How did you know."

"Just go ahead with it, bitch."

Chase elbowed Buddy, earning a glare from him.

"Okay. Umm... Well, we've been having a lot of fun in class, you and I, and I thought maybe you'd like to go see a movie or something. There's a showing of Rocky Horror at the Bijou next weekend."

"I love The Rocky Horror Picture Show!" Chase chirped. "Buddy, you should go. You'd probably like it."

"I don't like boxing movies," Buddy scoffed. 

"Yeah, but it's n- it's not a- fuckin' boxing movie- um fuck it okay, forget it."

"Rocky Horror isn't a boxing movie," Chase grumbled. "Didn't think you were that uncultured."

"Well what is it?" Buddy asked. 

"It's a movie-musical, horror-comedy. It's from 1975. It's a tribute to B films."

"Oh. Those are still a thing?"

"Sometimes. Anyway, as far as I can tell, Colin's really nice. Don't know why you had to be so mean to him."

"He's into maggot rock; he wears nail polish; he carries a rosary around his wrist; he wears scarves in September."

"You wear nail polish."

"Only when Violet puts me in it!"

"I think he's cool.."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah."

"Wait, Colin!" Buddy called after him. Colin turned around as Buddy walked up to him. "Why don't you just come by my place tonight? I just got Aquamarine on DVD; it's about this girl who's, like, half sushi. I guess she has sex through a blowhole or something."

"Okay? Heh. Great, yeah."

"'Kay. I'll text you my address."

"Cool."

Chapter Text

Colin walked away with a smile and a giddy, awkward clap of his hands. Chase could see him still fidgeting with the rosary around his wrist. 

He felt an elbow rest on his head. He tossed Deacon's arm off his head and glared up at his cousin.

"Buddy's hanging out with... what's his name, Colin Gray?" Deacon asked. "Not a surprise."

"No, Colin was asking Buddy out," Chase said flatly. 

"That's weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Can I go to your house tonight?"

"Why?"

"I get called penis cheese by an eight-year-old regularly. Why do you think."

"Okay, fair enough."

...

They mostly watched movies in Needy's living room. Chase found How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) on DVD so they watched that first. Because why not. Deacon had some protests, but Chase wasn't paying any attention. When that ended, Deacon found Juno and suggested it to Chase. 

"It's got Michael Cera in it?" Deacon added. "He played Scott Pilgrim once. And Elliot Page."

Nox got tired of waiting for Colin not even ten minutes after he got to the construction site. To pass the time, he set up the spot he was supposed to kill the guy at, lighting the myriad candles and setting down pillows and blankets and the radio and whatnot. The music was horrible, but the other stations weren't any better.

He wandered around the house aimlessly after finishing. It was rat-infested, and he found a few bird feathers. While he was looking around, he found himself wondering what Chase and Deacon were doing. Then he heard a car drive slowly outside before stopping and the engine shutting off. He went to his spot and waited quietly.

"Hello?" he heard Colin call after he entered the house through a window. Nox didn't answer. "Jennifer?"

Finally, Colin found the room. Nox entered quietly behind Colin.

"You made it," he hummed, hands shoved into his jacket's pockets. Colin flinched with a yelp.

"What's goin' on?" Colin asked with an awkward chuckle. He was fidgeting with his rosary again. "This uh.. This isn't really your house, is it?"

Nox licked his lips to moisten them. "No, baby," he replied, taking off his jacket. He tossed it off to the right, under a table. "This is our house. Just for you and me." He walked up to Colin. They were about the same height. "We could play Mommy And Daddy."

Colin twitched a small, almost sarcastic smile. "Do you even know my last name?"

"Silly. I've been sending you signals all year. Couldn't you tell?" Nox grabbed Colin's tie, mentally bracing himself for his next line. "You give me such a wettie." He cringed internally despite his bracing. He clenched his teeth tight together, making his lower jaw pop slightly. 

Colin was... okay at kissing, Nox supposed. But he was very stiff. Like he didn't know what he was doing and was copying whatever Nox did. When a rat squeaked, Colin jolted and pulled away. "Jennifer!"

"What?" Nox shrugged. "Are you scared? I mean, I thought boys like you were really into vermin and death and shit." He unbuttoned Colin's baggy jeans and unzipped his fly, and tossed the denim trousers to the floor. They were loud with all his decorations. "Nice hardware, Ace."

Colin whispered something, but Nox didn't hear it. Colin backed up, his face grim and fearful. He bumped into the table that Nox had tossed his jacket under, accidentally stabbing himself on one of the many sharp objects just laying about. "Ah, shit!" He checked the wound.

"Puncture wound," Nox cooed teasingly, examining the wound and poking at it slightly with his thumb, "God, that is so emo." Nox twisted Colin's arm, disengaging it from his socket rather easily. It actually scared him a little. Colin's arm snapped and he screamed in pain. "I need you frightened." Nox threw Colin to the floor and got on top of him. "I need you hopeless."

Chase was staring up at the ceiling, looking at the patterns in the paint. He and Deacon had moved upstairs. Deacon was sleeping in Needy's bed under the blankets, and Chase was just laying next to him above the covers.

Blood started to seep down into the paint. Some other clear fluid that made the ceiling slightly blue, too. It began to pour down in little streams, the blood at least. Chase felt it drip onto his cheek. He felt his lips moving slightly, but he didn't hear himself or even know what he was trying to say. He wiped the blood away and looked at his fingers, but nothing was there. 

He looked over at Needy's desk and saw that guy that had been crying in biology the day after the fire sitting in the chair. His torso was torn open, exposing his organs. His intestines were wiggling and pulsating. Buddy was crouched next to him with a sickeningly wide  grin and dead eyes and he naked, his knees touching and pointing away from Chase.

He sat up quickly with an unintentional squeak, panting softly and blinking rapidly. What the hell was that all about? He looked over to Deacon, who was now wide awake and sitting up next to him.

"Are you okay..?" Deacon asked hesitantly after a moment. 

"Did you see it?" Chase asked back, looking up at the ceiling. The blood was gone. He looked back over to the desk, and that football guy and Buddy were gone, too.

"See what? Do we need to leave? You started screaming for no reason."

A rat scurried over Colin's forehead once Nox had killed him. He had to take his clothes off before eating again. He was getting cold, but in all honesty? Colin's blood was warming him up like a good brandy. 

He cupped his hands in Colin's opened abdomen, watching the blood pool into his palms. He brought them to his lips, drinking the metallic fluid hungrily. 

And then he repeated the action.

The rat was watching him. Nox looked up at it.

"Gonna rag on me?" he asked it, knowing he was going to get no reply. He held his hand out fingers pointed down toward it, allowing some of the blood to drip off his finger tips and onto the wooden floor. He watched quietly as the rat lapped it up and as he resumed his meal.

Deacon was driving them to a gas station. Shitty gas station food was somewhat comforting. Needy also needed gas in her car. 

Chase didn't trust himself driving. He knew how to drive just fine, but his hands were shaking and he couldn't feel his legs. 

"I dunno, maybe it was just a hallucination?" Deacon suggested with a slight wince. 

"I hope so," Chase muttered as he hugged his stomach while looking out the windshield. He reached over to turn on the radio. It was that stupid 'Through The Trees' song. He immediately shut it off again.

They turned right at a fork. A wooded area. Chase saw something on the edge, on all fours. It began to walk on two legs as it reached the middle of the road.

Chase recognized the purple jacket. 

But there was no way it was Buddy. It was too tall and lanky, and its face was covered in blood.

Deacon slammed on the brake. "What the fuck is he doing?" he asked Chase, irritated. 

Buddy darted off after watching them for a moment.

...

They got their food and went back to their individual houses. Deacon texted Chase (on his phone, not Chip's) after leaving him at Needy's:

"Are you sure you're good to be alone tonight?"

"i'll be okay"

"100%?"

"ya"

Chase collapsed on the couch in the living room and fell asleep for a little while. But not before turning all the lights on on the first floor.

He eventually went upstairs to Needy's room. He closed the door softly behind him and flopped down on the left side of Needy's bed. All the covers were piled onto the right side, but he didn't think anything of it.

Not until he was suddenly under them with Buddy next to him, giggling and nibbling at his cheek.

He had a bit of a delayed reaction. 

Several moments into Buddy's confused poking at his sides did Chase sit up and look over as he reached for the lamp's on-switch, his heart pounding. 

"Hi?" Buddy chuckled awkwardly, sitting up as well. 

"Oh, my God, hi," Chase exhaled with a lopsided smile. 

"You're such a cliche," Buddy teased, snuggling up to Chase. His legs were cold against Chase's stomach. And then Chase realized he wasn't wearing pants. "I'm not gonna eat you, little idiot."

"Where are your pants."

"I'm not sleeping in tight jeans."

Fair argument.

Buddy put his arm under Chase's head and began to card his hand through his hair, his fingers cold. His hair was damp, probably from a shower. Chase eventually put his arms around Buddy's torso, turning onto his side and hugging Buddy close, their foreheads pressed against one another's. Buddy's knee was now over Chase's hip. 

Buddy pulled away eventually, just barely. He used his other hand to tilt Chase's chin up. Then, he leaned forward again, and pressed his lips, softly, against the blond's. He did this multiple times, hesitant at first. 

Chase leaned in, hoping to make sure Buddy knew he enjoyed the gentle peckings.

Buddy opened his mouth slightly against Chase's, paused for a moment. Chase pulled away a bit, and Buddy closed his mouth.

"I've never done.. what you want before," he informed, his cheeks feeling hot.

Buddy blinked. "R-Right," he chuckled awkwardly, teasing Violet's cord. "We don't have to do anything further."

"I'd like that."

They just cuddled for a while, Chase resting his head on Buddy's chest while Buddy played with his hair. Eventually, Buddy pressed a kiss to Chase's forehead and sat up. 

"I need to explain some things," he said softly, fidgeting with Violet's cord again.

"What?" Chase asked, sitting up as well. "What is it?"

Chapter Text

Buddy snuggled back up to Chase, curling against his side. He tossed his arm over Chase's abdomen, specifically the raise of his false ribs, to prevent him from leaving. He brought up the covers with his other arm, possibly getting cold. It wasn't very warm in Needy's room.

"You remember the night of the fire?" Buddy asked softly, tucking his arm against his chest. From what Chase had seen on the island, Buddy liked being curled up when he laid down, and now seemed to be no exception. "With the band and whatnot?"

"Yeah?" Chase replied, scootching closer to Buddy. "What about it?" His hand went to card through Buddy's hair. 

Buddy sighed as he began to recount what had happened.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

　　　.   　　˚　✭　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Nox's head hurt. His eyes were swimming, and he could hardly hold himself upright. He felt his head tilt back against one of the walls, and he squinted to see if that could clear his vision. It didn't. Vaguely, he could hear the band's own music playing over the whatever-it-was. He rubbed his eyes, and he began to look around as best as he could. Occult magazines were strewn over the floor, skeletal parts here and there. They were fake bones, obviously, considering they were almost black and the band couldn't have been over the average age of thirty-five. Candles were laid about, and that was really safe, Nox could imagine. A rather hefty book on witches settled on top of more magazines.

He was jostled quite a bit as Nikolai drove off the main road. Looking out the window, Nox could see that they were in a heavily forested area. Lovely.

"Wh- Where are we going?" he made himself hiccup. His eyes weren't helping his headache. They throbbed dully whenever he moved too fast.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," Nikolai non-answered. 

Two of the other members began to converse quietly amongst themselves. Their voices weren't helping Nox's mood. He knew the plot, and he wasn't necessarily excited for what was coming up. Nox adjusted the way he sat, and he felt one of the band members turn to look at him. 

"Are you guys rapists?" he asked, stretching himself out to make him seem bigger. He straightened his back somewhat and puffed his chest out slightly. Make himself seem more confident.

"Oh, God," Nikolai scoffed, "I hate girls."

Nobody answered the question. Of course not. Nox felt a tear roll down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. He didn't understand why he was crying. Jennifer was supposed to, but he didn't have to.

"Are you even sure she's a fucking virgin, man?" the... guitarist (?) asked the singer. 

"Y- Yes," Nox said quickly. "Yes, I'm a virgin. I've- I've never even done sex before. I don't know how. So... you guys should find someone who does... know how." 

"See, Dirk?" Nikolai asked, turning his head to look at the bassist for a brief moment. "I told you, man. You owe me a beer."

Nikolai drove the van out to the falls. 

Nox continued to look around, searching for any kind of escape. He could bludgeon them with that book on witches, though he'd probably not get very far if there was five of them. That was about it. Besides, what if they had weapons? That Bowie knife, of course, but what if they had anything else? Any other options he couldn't see. It was far too dark.

The van rumbled to a stop. Nikolai and Dirk hopped out and went around to open the doors. Nox shot to his feet and took his chance running out, but Violet decided that tall-heeled shoes were a good option! He didn't get very far before one of them grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back to the van. He let out a scream instinctively.

"Where are you goin', huh?" Nikolai called as he held Nox tight against himself. He sounded playful and teasing. He wasn't responsive to Nox's squirms and shouts. Nox went limp and sank to his knees, making the hold awkward, but Nikolai kept a strong hold regardless. "We got a waxing moon tonight, you guys! Just like the ritual said!"

Nikolai dragged Nox along while the others carried their own trinkets and such. Eventually, one of them picked up Nox's ankles and another grabbed under his arms

"Let me go!" Nox screamed, thrashing about. "Stupid- Twat-Waffles! Wankers! Kneebiters! Tot-hunters!"

Nikolai clamped a dry, calloused hand over Nox's mouth, muffling any further shouts. "Do one of you guys have something to shut her up with?!"

No reply, but Nox felt Nikolai's fingers dig open his mouth and a dirty rag was getting tied like a rein. "NO! Don't touch me- AUGH!"  God, it tasted simply awful! The grovel in Nox's shout hurt his throat, but it didn't stop him from protesting yet. He could still squirm and writhe, so he kept doing so until he was slammed onto a large, flat rock and tied to it rather uncomfortably. In all honesty, he felt as though he was the narrator of The Pit and The Pendulum, because of all of the elements of the situation. Tied up on a large flat thing near a pit that guaranteed certain death with water at the bottom, not to mention Nikolai's blade dangling nearby. Time running out.

"Make sure they're tight enough," Nikolai said a few feet away as Nox was getting knots tied over his wrists and other such various joints. "I don't want to get fucking clawed."

Nox screamed around the rag in his mouth, trying to squirm still. He wondered if he could loosen the knots if he wriggled enough. 

One of them lit a torch. Nox didn't care who.

"I don't know if we should go through with this," the bassist worried as Nox forced an animalistic, angry growl out of his chest. Nox really wasn't even aware that noise was possible in humans, much less himself.

Nikolai sighed and turned to face him. He clapped his hands on the other man's shoulders. "Dirk. Do you wanna work in Moose Hoof Coffee forever? I don't. Okay? Do you wanna be a big loser, or do you wanna be rich and awesome-" he brushed some of Dirk's hair out of his eyes "-like that guy in Maroon 5?"

Dirk hesitated for a moment. "Maroon 5," he answered finally.

"Okay, that's what I thought. Now go fetch me the ritual." Nikolai cocked his head in a brief nod.

Dirk went off. Nikolai turned back to the rest of them. "What the fuck?" he mouthed. He got a few chuckles from the remaining band members. Dirk came back with a folded-up piece of paper. Nikolai thanked him as he unfolded it. He cleared his throat, and Nox shouted more profanity through the gag. "Alright!"

"That's it?" the drummer asked, nodding to the paper.

"Yeah; I got it online." Nikolai looked down at the paper. "We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of-" He yanked the gag out of Nox's mouth, and it felt like he took a tooth or two out with it. Nox felt around with his tongue, and he didn't, thank God. "What was your name again, Tiffany?"

Nox let out a shaky, angry breath. They'd gone through all this trouble to not even remember that he had introduced himself at the beginning of their first interaction! "My name is Jennifer, you cocksure popinjay!" At least Nikolai left the rag off.

"Super. We come here tonight to sacrifice the body of Jennifer from Devil's Kettle-"

Nox inhaled deeply, relaxed his thorax (therefore opening it) and let out an inhuman scream that rattled his ribcage. He hoped it was heard outside the woods and was considered something worth investigating.

Nikolai paused like that was a minor inconvenience. With a sigh, he tucked the ritual in his back pocket and leaned in close, on his leg. "Do you know how hard it is to make it as an indie band these days?"

"Get a sponsor!" Nox snapped. He was starting to cry again. He didn't process it immediately, and the fear was starting to settle cold in his bones. "Get a hot person to be the cover of your band! I don't know!"

"There's so many of us," Nikolai continued with a pat on Nox's shoulder, "and we're all so cute, and it's like if you don't get on Letterman, or some retarded soundtrack, you're screwed. Okay? Satan is our only hope. We're in link with the beast now. And we have to make a really big impression on him! And to do that, we're going to have to butcher you." Nox grimaced. He wondered how that would actually feel. He noticed that Nikolai was talking with his hands a little more than earlier. "And bleed you. And then Dirk here is gonna wear your face." He pointed to the bassist, who seemed shocked and confused. Then Nikolai turned to Dirk and settled his hand on the bassist's chest. "Relax. I'm kidding about the face." He turned back to Nox. "The rest is gonna happen, though." He nodded grimly and settled his hands on his own hips.

"Why don't you just get a publicist?" Nox whimpered, and he hated how pathetic he sounded. "Make t-shirts? I- I could be part of your stream team! Please!"

"Sorry, no can do," Nikolai muttered as he reached for the ritual and that Bowie knife. "But you know what? Maybe we can write a song about you! I think as a fan. That'd be pretty cool, right?"

Nox shook his head, trying to wiggle back and away as Nikolai checked out his reflection in the blade. He let out a sob as Nikolai cleared his throat and positioned the knife downwards.

"Put an egg in your shoe!"

"With the deepest malice," Nikolai hummed as he raised the knife above his head, "we deliver this virgin unto thee!"

"Dude, that is a hot murder weapon," Dirk said suddenly.

"It's a Bowie knife."

"Bowie? Nice."

Nikolai turned back to Nox. "Alright, here we go! It's gonna be gnarly!"

"Fat-heads!"

Nikolai moved to bring the knife down, but paused and instead crouched next to the slab of rock. "Wait, wait a second. Just thought of something. Jenny. Jenny, you're the girl for me. And you don't know me, but you make me so happy. I tried to call you before, but I lost my nerve."

What the fuck.

Nikolai's voice changed to a sing-song, and the other members joined in. "I used my imagination, but I was disturbed! Jenny, I got your number! I need to make you mine! Jenny, don't change your number-"

Nox felt a sharp stab in his gut as the knife was brought down. He screamed in pain as it shifted higher up, and then all over the place. He could see Nikolai getting rather enthusiastic with the stabbing. Nox believed this was a retell of one of the deaths of a Jack the Ripper victim. He wouldn't be surprised, in all honesty. He remembered stealing a post-mortem identification photograph in the pocket of some rich man. It was an interesting thing to carry about. He didn't remember who the woman in the photograph was, but he remembered her position. He wondered if this was how she felt during her murder.

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"They killed you," Chase summarized. 

Buddy scoffed. "I'm still here, aren't I? I mean, they did go all Dorian Gray on me, and it should have killed me, but it didn't. For some reason."

They were both quiet for a bit. Buddy changed his position. "Anyway," he continued, "I don't remember what happened after that. It's never really stated, either. All I know is that I woke up and I found you.

"I remember," Chase said softly, and Buddy smiled gently.

"I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't, did I?"

Chase shook his head.

"Thank God. But I was just... so hungry."

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Nox's feet hurt. He debated taking off his shoes, but he only imagined that they'd simply get worse. Walking on gravel without shoes wasn't a great feeling. 

He saw someone walking in the opposite direction on the opposite side, coughing gently. 

Nox felt his stomach growl. He walked faster in the person's direction. 

"Ahmed," he said, causing the boy to pause. The boy turned his head away to cough into his elbow. "You made it out."

Ahmed didn't reply, but he stood there patiently like he was waiting for conversation. It occurred to Nox that Ahmed might not speak English. 

"Are you lost?"

Ahmed nodded.

"Does your host family know you're alive?"

Ahmed hesitated before shaking his head.

"Does anyone know you're alive?"

Another moment of hesitation. Ahmed shook his head.

"Well, you come with me," Nox said as he reached for Ahmed's hand, leading him to the woods. "We'll sort all this out."

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"Since then," Buddy continued, "I... I guess I've just been guessing what to do. Just doing whatever the book says. Um, when I'm full - like I am now - I'm untouchable. Essentially."

Chase cocked an eyebrow. 

Buddy got up and looked around. He found a metal pen and came back to bed. "I can do stuff like this, watch." He then jabbed the point of the pen into his inner forearm, dragging it all the way down to his wrist from the pit of his elbow. The suddenness of the action made Chase gasp. "It's really cool, just watch!"

And he did. Blood pooled from the wound, but not for long. It quickly closed and healed without so much as a scratch with a slight zipping sound. 

"What did you mean... 'When you're full'?" Chase asked.

Buddy's mood shifted. "Maybe you should talk to someone about these... disturbing thoughts. We're all concerned."

"Don't talk like that!"

Buddy shrugged. "Just saying what I think."

Chase stood up. "Go home."

"Excuse me?"

"Leave! If you're gonna be all cryptic about it and call me crazy, you can go home!"

Buddy exhaled and got out of bed again. He picked his jeans up from the floor, tugging them on. He zipped his fly and padded over to the window.

"What are you doing?" Chase asked as Buddy opened the window.

"You said to leave!" Buddy stepped onto the sill. "See you at school." He jumped.

Chase darted over to the window, looking down at the ground. Nothing. Just the normal set-up of the lawn.