Chapter Text
SOMEWHERE, Charlie thinks, alcohol is being poured into plastic red cups, mixed with a budget brought cola, as the sound of ABBA blares all around.
If he thinks hard enough, he can picture exactly how it looks, a large house with too many kitchen islands, guest bedrooms dark with murky shadows and tipsy teenagers, making out on fresh sheets. He can imagine the boys from school, gathered in the middle of the room, prowling at girls like empty-minded men, treating them like pieces of meat as they use their liquid courage to talk to one of them. People will drift off to sleep on the empty sofas or spare pieces of carpet, hurling up in bushes and bins. The next morning, they’ll wake up with headaches, but do it all again next weekend.
That was the routine for anyone who wanted to be popular in Herne Bay. Charlie Spring is not one of those people.
Charlie didn’t care much for parties, alcohol, the local town craze of ice hockey, or girls. Invites to attend a Harry Greene Rave were not high on his list of things he wanted to do. He liked to stay out of the school’s social sector, stay hidden under the radar if he could help it. Plus, he and his friends have much bigger things to do, much greater worries than what to wear to a party or how to fit in with the moronic ice-hockey players that plagued the school.
“Fuck.”
Charlie jumps in the air at the sudden noise, too deep in his thoughts to have realised his upcoming friend. In trademark Tao Xu fashion, his friend arrives in a scurry of chaos, skidding to a halt, feet digging into the ground with his entire weight, body shifting forward on the bike as the wheels dig into the mud and grass. He fights with the wheels for dominance, using all his might to finally come to a stop, trails of destruction engraved into the dirt behind. His beanie is falling over his eyes, cheeks red from the panic, hands painted white. He huffs, finally relaxing.
“Why don’t you just fix your brakes?” Charlie asks as his friend steps away from the bike, glaring at the shitty green paint that chipped off years ago and worn leather seat.
Tao wheels it over to the tree, before kicking it, “Because, that would cost money, and this bike doesn’t deserve any kind of repairs. Plus, when it finally breaks, mum said she get me a new one.”
“But Tao, it’s so unsafe,” sighs Elle as she arrives, Isaac silently in tow.
He shrugs, “I don’t like playing it safe.”
Elle snorts and gives Charlie a look of bemusement. She fetches her bag from the basket attached to her bike, slinging it over her shoulder as she wheels it away to where the other three have tied theirs up, out of sight. Above them, the moon glimmers with a sky clear of clouds and smoke. It’s silent on the outskirts of the woods, not close enough to the beach to hear the waves, or central enough for the chatter of homes and friends to be heard. No one wants to be near the woods when night fell. But yet, the four losers of Truham Grammar School stand at the edge, looking in.
The trees of Herne Bay woods are cliche, tall and dark, spindly branches poking into the inky silhouettes. Naturally, it became a place of ghost stories, hauntings spoken about in hushed whispers all over town. No one walks their dogs there, no one goes camping, no one even goes there to make out in secret. At most, it’s used as a way for boys to scare one another, taking walks out there in dark wintery evenings or dares.
“Right, let’s get down to business,” Tao says, unzipping his bag as he fetches his torch, prompting them all to do the same. The light flickers to life, eerie white light clashing with the moon’s soft glow, cutting through the emptiness before them. A map is spread out, crumpled, and weathered from many previous adventures, littered with notes gathered over the years. Faded pink gel pen surrounded by little hearts, notes by an 11-year-old-Elle when they first started their friendship. Neat cursive purple from Isaac, shaky biro blue by Charlie, and hectic red marker penned by Tao. Hidden under a curling corner, their names are written, pale but permanent.
Isaac points to a location on the map, circled in red, “Here?”
“Should be. It’s not that far, locals have gone there before, meaning it’s not too deep into the woods to scare people off,” Elle explains in her usual soft tone, crouching to look at it closer, her raincoat rustling in the silence.
Charlie can’t help but shiver, “Do we really think this is a good idea?”
Three heads snap in his direction.
“Good? No, no, I think this is a great idea. You’re not feeling scared, are you? Because we can leave and come back some other time,” Tao frowns.
He shakes his head. It’s not that he’s scared. Okay, he’s a tad scared. Charlie loves ghosts, spirits, and anything mythical or supernatural. Ever since he was a boy, he felt like there is always something more than what they know. He likes to believe it was fate that brought him to his friends, who shared the same affinity for ghosts as he did. Herne Bay is busting at the seams with a history rich with folk stories and weird sightings. The Woods, in particular, is a breeding ground for such legends. Ever since they were 11, they have been researching anything strange that goes on in their small town, and this, Rynall Cottage, is the big league.
The abandoned home in the middle of the woods, said to be haunted, untouched for decades.
So, he’s a little scared. Because it’s nighttime, and they’re alone. And if anyone knows anything about horror films, it’s that doing anything in the dark is a bad idea. It scares him just a tiny bit at the idea something could go wrong. But more than anything, he’s excited. They’ve been doing this for five years, they weren’t little 11-year-olds anymore, this is something that every ghost-hunter, anyone who ever believed in anything, wants to do.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“You sure?”
“Yes, let’s do this.”
Four beacons of light shine through the woods, and they begin their journey towards Rynall Cottage. Isaac keeps his light on the ground, illuminating the roots spreading out the soil, the small ditches and holes along the way. Deeper into the woods they get, the more real it starts to feel, trees surrounding them from every corner, no escape in sight. Above, the sky rumbles in threat, but no rain spills from the heavens yet.
Elle cuts through their silence, “I passed Harry Greene’s place on the way here.”
Tao scoffs, as per usual when he hears anyone’s name from the school’s ice-hockey team. “The usual? Big party?”
“I always find it odd they have parties the night before their games,” Elle ponders.
“Because they're idiots, that’s why. They also know that no matter how bad the team are, the funding is always going to be there. They could lose all season, it wouldn’t matter.”
“The town’s ice hockey obsession never rests,” Isaac laughs, turning right and adjusting their path.
Tao continues his rant, batting away some leaves of a low hanging branch, “It would just be nice to see the school put a bit more money into something else. Like the arts, drama or something. I don’t know, anything other than big lads out on the ice hitting a puck around.”
Charlie lets his thoughts drift to the hockey lads at their school, how they sit in front of the gates with smug looks on their faces, hockey sticks gleaming ominously at anyone below their popularity status. He can’t imagine being a part of that world, full of locker rooms and mouth guards, helmets and skates, sweating despite being surrounded by ice, pushed into barriers by other boys. Yet somehow, their little town thrives over the sport, yearning for its games, even if it’s in the form of seventeen-year-old secondary school students.
He kicks a small pebble, “I don’t think our school is even aware there’s an art department.”
“Or a library for that matter,” says Isaac.
“What’s it like at Higgs Elle? Any better, or ice hockey fever?”
She laughs slightly, “For the most part, it’s better. There’s still a large group of girls who swoon over the lads that play, but I don’t really get the hype.”
“You don’t get the hype of cute boys in shorts?” He jokes.
She shines her torch over his face, making him wince. “No, do you?”
“I mean, yeah?” He laughs.
“Blasphemy!” Tao says while hitting his shoulder.
He pushes the torch away, “I don’t care for the sport. Or the boys. I was kidding.”
They all laugh a little, and Elle relents, “I suppose they would be cute if they weren’t bigoted assholes. But because I know they are ignorant, it kind of takes away the attraction.”
It was true. He tries not to think about the slurs and jeers he received from most of the ice hockey team when he came out as gay.
They continue their slander of ice hockey for a while, complaining over the evidential favouritism within not only their school but Herne Bay. Their town was small, it had a little beach and town centre, but none of that matters when compared to the ridiculously expensive ice-skating arena they have, home to their very own team. All the Truham boys want to get onto that team, all the St Johns boys want to get onto that team, all the boys from any school close enough want to get onto that team. Charlie never once has, and never will.
“Guys, look,” Isaac whispers, making all his stupid ice hockey thoughts come to a grinding halt.
In front of them, looming in the dark is the cottage. It’s bigger than Charlie ever thought it would be, feeling as if it reaches the stars and moon, cascading into the constellations. Its walls are crawling with ivy, climbing up the stones and into the broken windows that beamed the moons’ reflection into fragmented spots. It feels as if the house is somewhere else entirely, a different realm, trees caving inwards towards the ground, plants dying and wilting the closer they get.
On cue, rain starts to sprinkle down. Elle pulls up her hood, and gestures towards the house, “I guess we go in?”
The rain gets harder, and Charlie copies Elle, protecting himself with the yellow hood of his raincoat, torch shining on the lonely stones and wood of Rynall Cottage. The map is quickly being folded away, stuffed inside the safety of Isaac's pockets before it can be destroyed.
Tao takes the first step forward, “Do you all still want to do this? There’s no shame in turning back.”
But no one moves away.
Slowly, as if not to disturb whatever spirit was sleeping in the rubble of myths and legends, they edged forwards, towards the cottage. Charlie, oddly, didn’t feel too scared or uncomfortable. He didn’t get a sense anything evil presided behind the door, nothing that would truly harm them. The house was humming upon their arrival, thrumming with displaced energy. Tao reaches toward the doorknob, and with a deep breath, twists it. With a click, the door creaks open.
“That’s…not very reassuring,” Isaac says, peering into the dingy doorway.
Rynall cottage is a lot more peaceful than he expected. All around, decaying furniture from another life fills the rooms, weeds and moss growing on them from the cracks in the floorboards, dust fluttering like snow. Memories untouched for decades stain the walls, lost to the sands of time, merely a ghost story for the people of Herne Bay. It’s saddening, to see the remains of a life once lived. Charlie grazes his hand on the curling wallpaper, too faded to recognise a pattern, but still clinging on.
Tao speaks up first, “Where should we go?”
“Living room?”
They do their usual investigating, of any signs of ghosts, supernatural, anything. If anything, they are all more curious about the house for everything it is, rather than the supposed hauntings. They quietly wander around, picking up old books, scattered candle holders, and the caved-in fireplace.
“Should we split into pairs-,”
Footsteps. Outside the living room. Near the door. Each of them freezes, wide eyes, confused and scared. It could be a trick of the wind, the rain is loud and heavy by this point, and they are all paranoid. But then it happens again, footsteps, nearing the living room. They are heavy footsteps, not light and dainty. No one moves, no one breathes, no one blinks. Charlie’s hand curls tighter around his torch, knuckles white.
It's Elle who gains the courage, shaking herself before making a move. Tao grabs her arm and stares at her. It’s a look that screams what are you doing?
“This is why we’re here aren’t we? To find ghosts?” She whispers lowly.
Charlie lets out a stuttered breath, aware of the floorboards creaking, closer, and closer.
Tao looks towards the door, “Remember the rules? Together, we find them together. No one alone.”
“Then you guys need to snap out of it, because if that is a vengeful spirit, we’ll need to run,” Her hand comes to rest on Charlie’s elbow, her reassuring smile making his body seep with warmth. He nods, turns to Isaac, who seems to be a little more willing to seek out the noise, and holds out his hand. Carefully, the boy takes it, and they huddle close. The group walk towards the door, all holding their breath, torches shining on the monochrome walls.
They round the corner, and before their eyes can even land on whatever was waiting out there someone screams, making them all scream, and soon everyone is screaming shaking where they stand. Isaac has buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, and Tao is clutching at his beanie with one hand, the other grasping on to Elle for dear life.
“What the fuck!” The ghost yelps, falling backwards in a dramatic thump.
The four of them stop shouting, quiet as they let the sight before them sink in, torches focusing on the crumpled-up heap on the floor, which is not a ghost but a human. The person is scattered, hands guarding his face as the lights expose him, squinting up at them.
Elle blinks, “Nicholas Nelson?”
Everyone goes quiet again, but less of fear, and more from utter confusion and shock.
Nicholas Nelson stands up, dusting off his black jeans with a grimace, hair damp, cheeks dusted red from surprise. Charlie has to rub his eyes a few times to confirm that yes, ice hockey player Nicholas Nelson, is standing in front of them in the abandoned halls of Rynall Manor, in all his tall, freckled glory. He appears to be alone, without any supplies, no coat, just him, there, staring at them, as they examine him like an animal in a zoo.
This is quite possibly the weirdest night of his life. Nicholas Nelson isn’t the worst person they could have bumped into, out of all the ice hockey lads, he’s the least intimidating, the least nasty, and the most handsome.
What. Charlie, absolutely not.
But he’s also an ice hockey player. Popular, friends with Harry Greene and his ex-Ben, (Charlie rips that away from his brain, too fresh, too raw) the boy all the girls wish they were dating, and most boys wished they were.
“Um, yeah, hi,” Nicholas breathes.
Tao immediately crosses his arms over his chest, using all his ‘Protective Mum Energy’ to the fullest as he looks Nicholas up and down, carefully and slowly. Charlie can see the boy’s discomfort and wills himself not to blush when he makes the briefest of eye contact.
“What on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at Harry Greene’s party?” Tao drawls.
Nicholas looks lost, like a puppy.
“Yes? I mean-no. Well-yeah-that’s where I was-but-,”
“Spit it out, Nelson.”
“They dared me, to come out here,” He finally admits, rolling on his heels.
Isaac finally speaks up, “They dared you?”
“Yeah.”
“They dared you, to go into the woods, on your own, in the dark, to a supposed haunted house, with no coat, torch or map?” His friend deadpans, clearly not impressed by anyone in this situation. Something seems to be churning in Nicholas’s brain like the information has only just dawned on him. His eyes go blank, and his expression becomes hollow and emotionless. As he settles his stare on the ground, Charlie takes the time to admire the smattering of freckles all over him, like warm watercolour splashes, or stars woven onto the navy canvas of the night. His hair glows copper under their harsh white torches, shimmering red and gold.
Jesus, he needs to stop, this is sounding super gay, even for him.
“Right well, if you don’t mind, we have serious business to attend to here, so-,”
“But what are you guys doing here?”
“That’s for us to know, and for you to keep your nose out of. Come on guys let’s go-,”
“Do you want to stay with us?” His mouth speaks before his brain catches up.
Nicholas looks at him, surprised, while Tao makes an indignant noise at the back of his throat.
“It’s raining and dark, it’s dangerous if you go back on your own, it was dangerous coming here on your own. You can leave with us if you want. We know how to get back, safely,” He explains, hoping his friends aren’t too heartless to leave someone to wander the dark woods on their own.
“That would be great, thank you.”
Then, Nicholas Nelson smiles at him, a bit lopsided, his eyes lighting up with his cheeks, gaze soft. It stops his heart right there, the look cast his way, making him blush and vulnerable under the attention. The exchange lasts longer than he would have ever expected from the star ice hockey player.
Tao huffs and takes a few steps closer to Nicholas, “Fine, you can stay, but if you even think of making any snide remarks or bullying, I will not hesitate to leave you here. Understood?”
“Uh, understood.”
Charlie frowns at his best friend’s hostility but understands why. While Nicholas Nelson has never said anything to Charlie, he still was there, still friends with the boys that did, and that’s enough to get on Tao’s bad side, which is always terrifying. Elle casts the ice hockey player a sympathetic stare before stalking after Tao, who has marched away.
Charlie turns to Isaac once more, “I’m going to go upstairs and have a look around, tell the other two, okay?”
He wants to go explore the rooms untouched desperately and knows that Tao will be in a mood with him now. But before he can reach the steps, Nicholas is tapping his shoulder. No, don’t go red Charlie, he literally tapped you.
“Do you mind if I join you? I don’t think your friend likes me very much, I don’t want to disturb him if I can help it,” Nicholas asks, looking a little out of place in the walls of Rynall Cottage.
“Yeah, of course,” Does he sound casual? He hopes he sounds casual.
His friends are talking in the living room, in hectic hushed noises, and he tries to tune out what they’re probably saying. Because they’re right, and he doesn’t quite want to face that reality just then. Instead, he climbs the stairs that he fears could give out at any moment, exploring the haunting sight of a deteriorating master bedroom. It almost brings tears to his eyes, to see the bed without its owner, the scent of whoever lived there non-existent.
On the dresser is a few pieces of rusting jewellery. Picking up a small ring, he turns it in his hand.
“So um, what are you guys actually doing here? If that’s okay to ask?” Nicholas speaks up.
Charlie is somehow caught off guard by the ice hockey player speaking directly to him. He allows himself a second eye contact, before deeming it too much and flickering his gaze to anywhere but the boy. Clearing his throat, he says, “We like to explore things like this. Haunted houses, ghosts, that kind of stuff. I know it sounds silly to other people, but we like it.”
Nicholas nods politely. His hands are in his pockets, buried deep, and he seems to be looking everywhere at once, scared as if something might jump out at him or fall from the ceiling. “It’s not silly. But…is it not…creepy?”
“It is, but it’s also interesting,” His voice is quiet.
The boy lets out a restless laugh, “I won’t lie, I’m a bit on edge right now.”
“Really? I couldn’t tell Nicholas.” Whatever possessed him to tease, he doesn’t know, but it’s worth it to see Nicholas smile again.
“It’s Nick. No one calls me Nicholas.”
“Oh, well, I’m Charlie. Charlie Spring,” He mutters, looking back down at the ring. He doesn’t want to see the spark of recognition on the boy’s face when he realises that he’s the ‘Gay Kid’ in school, he rather not see the disappointment up close, especially in someone he finds relatively attractive. Who are you kidding Charlie? Very attractive.
Without thinking, he pockets the ring, because it feels important, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it with Nick Nelson standing near him. The silence between them begins to stretch, and while it isn’t uncomfortable, it’s long, and consuming him. They move around the room, his torch examining small patches of darkness, scuffed vans and worn converse creaking over wooden floors.
“Did your friends actually dare you to come out here?” He asks.
Nick rubs the back of his neck and frowns, “Yeah. Now I think about it, kind of shitty of them, considering it’s well, dangerous. But I guess-,” Nick stops mid-sentence, whatever justification he had for his friends evaporating.
“Is that how parties usually go down at Harry Greene’s then?”
Tao will kill him, he knows it. He’s making conversation with Nick Nelson. And Charlie Spring doesn’t make conversation, he’s shy and awkward and would rather spend a night in the creepy old cottage than even attempt to talk to someone like Harry Greene in the way he’s talking to Nick Nelson. No, Tao isn’t going to kill him because he’s being nice, he’s going to kill him because to anyone who knows Charlie, he clearly finds Nick cute, cute enough to shrug off all social awkwardness and anxiety in favour of indulging in a few more minutes of conversation with Nick.
Nick, who is straight. Nick, who is friends with the exact people who bullied him.
“You haven’t been to on before?” Nick questions innocently like he genuinely believes someone like Charlie would ever be invited to those kinds of parties.
Charlie laughs under his breath, “You really think Harry is going out of his way to invite me?”
At least Nick has the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry, I kind of assumed everyone’s been to one of them.”
Silence.
Then-,
“You’re not Harry’s kind of person anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you’re kind, eloquent, clearly very smart. And well, Harry isn’t.”
And if Charlie wasn’t blushing before, he is on fire now because Nick Nelson just said he was kind, eloquent, and smart. When he gained the courage to look over at the boy, Nick doesn’t seem to register the effect he’s had on Charlie, looking at the room causally, like what he said didn’t cause Charlie to melt into the ground and fade away into the fabric of the universe.
They move out of the master bedroom, ready to explore the next, until faint humming echoes over his ears. He stops, and curiously, Nick stops too.
“Can you hear that?”
He gulps, “Yeah. Humming.”
Down the hall, a closed-door looks at them. They both stare at it. The humming stops. Nick laughs nervously, “Please don’t tell me we’re going into that room now.”
“You don’t have to, but I will.”
There isn’t any more humming as Charlie gets closer to the door, thankfully, and he’s vaguely aware of Nick trailing behind him. Without much fear, he opens the door, only a silver, because the door stops moving and won’t budge. Looking into the room from the small access he’s been allowed he can determine something is blocking the door.
Charlie pushes against it with all his strength, but it doesn’t budge.
“Here, let me try,” Nick whispers, moving in front of Charlie and all but throwing himself against the door. Grunting, the ice hockey player starts to move it open bit by bit, shaking with the force of what’s behind, but getting it open enough that they could squeeze through. Is it gay to say that Charlie is impressed by his strength?
Yes, Charlie, for you it is, Tao’s voice rings in his head.
Nick pokes his head around. “The ceiling has caved in, so it’s a lot of rubble blocking the entrance. We can climb over it though.”
Despite his initial worry, Nick enters the room without much hesitancy, heaving himself over fallen stone and wood. Charlie tries not to follow his movement, wondering when Nick Nelson became so handsome. He has always been cute, but it has been a while since Charlie has properly looked at Nick, and it doesn’t help the boy seems to be nice, a stark different to his friends. Nick pops his head back around the door, looking for him.
“You coming?” He smiles, lopsided again.
Another thing he learns about Nick is that he’s sweet and has an old school gentleman vibe about him. He’s the type of boy who will hold doors open, push back chairs, take heavy bags, and treat his future wife with surprise flowers and her favourite chocolate. The kind of things that make Charlie swoon. When he starts climbing over the rugged pieces of stone, Nick holds his hand out, gentle, offering support for him as he climbs down. He can’t help but stare at it for too long, because boys like Nick shouldn’t be holding out their hands for boys like Charlie. It goes against the cosmos that ice-hockey player Nick Nelson would want to even be near him, let alone touch him, and his brain has a hard time processing that. But he takes it anyway, softly, for he doesn’t want to disturb the tentative flowers that bloom in his soul.
“Thanks,” Charlie whispers, resting their hands together as he drops to the ground, feeling cold when they let go. Nick nods in recognition, before tilting his head upwards.
He had been right, the ceiling has caved in. Is it odd for Charlie to say that it is utterly breathtaking? Eerily beautiful? Bared open raw, the sky looks into the room with quiet study, sliver moonlight glittering all over the crumbled stone and rotting wood. Whatever the room was before, it is unrecognisable, every piece of furniture ripped apart beyond repair. The old rafters have splintered, dragging towards the floor. Charlie can feel the past oozing from every crack and gap, suffocating him.
Fortunately, the rain has simmered down to a mere drizzle. He stares around him, truly in awe.
“I’ll admit, this is cool.”
A small seed of doubt starts to spread within him, looking over at Nick standing in the skeleton of the room. Quietly, he asks, “Will you be telling people?”
“Hm?”
“Will you be telling people about us? The four losers out in the woods, looking for ghosts?”
He can’t help but imagine the worst. The entire school sniggering at them, making remarks about something they loved, Harry Greene targeting them at the school gates, leering, judging, laughing. The betrayal he would feel when Nick Nelson laughs with them, even after being so kind for a few minutes. But maybe it is all a trick, maybe he is only being nice because he knows he needs to be safe out in the woods. Maybe, after this is all over, Nick Nelson will see him as the weirdo gay kid who likes to find ghosts.
“Nah, they don’t need to know. Don’t worry.”
His heart swells.
“Charlie? Are you up here?” Elle shouts, making him jump and remember who he came with.
He shudders under the wind that whispers around them, “In here!”
His friends finally join them, making their way over the stones blocking the entrance and squeezing through. Their faces morph into the same awe Charlie was overcome with, marvelling at the night sky twinkling above them.
“Did you guys hear it too?” Tao immediately says, standing next to him and peering up at the moon, drifting out from behind the clouds.
“The humming?”
“The humming,” Isaac confirms.
The moon is shining brighter, and something starts to unease in Charlie’s chest. It’s unexplainable, how in an instance, the moon looks threatening, the glow bleeding onto the floor and sparkling in their eyes. He manages to pull his eyes away from the moon, only to see everyone else is staring, in a trance. His heart begins to beat quicker, hands shaking and palms sweaty.
“Guys, I don’t think-,”
He can’t finish his sentence, because a strong gust of wind rushes into the room, knocking them all off their feet, crashing down. They are shouting, the wind is getting louder, worse, tumbling off the walls in a vicious cycle. It’s unnatural, but they don’t have time to dwell on it, instead, they are screaming and shouting, clutching at their heads as they duck inwards on themselves like dying stars. The wind seems to be formatting together, like a living being. It starts to swirl around them, reaching its peak before-
It all stops. Nothing.
Silence.
The room becomes as stagnant as it was before.
Elle coughs, “What was that?”
“I don’t know, but I think we should go home.”