Archive of Our Own ^beta

Suga shivered as a chilly breeze whipped across the cracked parking lot and towards the looming building in front of them. Broken windows snagged the air, filling the parking lot with whistling moans and the heavy creaking of a building long neglected. The setting sun cast the facade in bloody red, cut into twisted shapes by heavy shadows. Gnarled trees blocked the view of the road and muted the sound of cars until it felt like they were all alone in the world.

It was perfect. The dictionary definition of haunted. “Alright, boys! Are we ready to find some ghosts?”

He spun on his heel to see the others pulling their gear out of the battered trunk of Suga’s used Honda. Hinata was already wearing his oversized backpack, practically vibrating with excitement (and probably some fear) as he stared up at the building. Noya slammed the trunk, his bag slung over his shoulders as he held his phone up, securely fastened in its hand-held stand as he panned it over the front of the house.

“Ready!” Hinata bounced on his heels as he stared, goggle-eyed up at the crumbling facade in front of them. “Are we meeting the caretaker here?”

Suga shook his head, pulling a key out of his pocket. “Nope. I stopped by yesterday to get the keys from him. It’s just going to be us tonight. Well,” He waggled the key, a grin spreading from ear to ear, “Just us and the ghosts.”

Hinata squeaked, eyes so wide Suga was surprised they didn’t fall out of his head. Noya cackled and swung the camera around to point at Hinata. “Come on, Shouyo! You should be used to this by now! No getting scared anymore! Besides, your screams peak the audio.”

“I-I’m not scared!” Hinata squeaked, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive, height. Noya only laughed again.

“Well!” Suga clapped his hands together, cutting off the coming argument before it could begin, “no point hanging out in the parking lot. Let’s get inside. We can do the intro in the main hall.” He led the way to the gate, grabbing the padlock and holding the chain link shut, only for it to fall open in his hand. It was strange, but before he could think anything of it Hinata spoke behind him.

“Are you sure the caretaker isn’t here?”

“He shouldn’t be. Why?”

Hinata pointed towards the back of the lot, where a mud-splattered double cab pickup was parked in the partial cover of a fallen tree.

Suga frowned. “I mean, he said he couldn’t make it. Something about a family emergency.”

Noya frowned, his brow wrinkled in thought, but only for a moment before he shrugged and spun back around to the house. “Well, we’ll find out inside, won’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Suga took one last look at the truck before tugging the gate open. They picked their way across the shattered front walk and up the front steps to the ornate oak door.

“Hey, Suga, let’s film the first part out here in the natural light.” Noya shifted back, adjusting himself to get an angle of Suga standing on the steps.

“Oh, OK.” Noya had a good eye for the film stuff, like shots and angles and lighting. Suga knew he should probably have a better sense of it himself if he wanted to make a real go of this YouTube thing, but his brain just didn’t seem to see the same way as Noya did. (Hinata wasn’t allowed to film anymore after viewer complaints of motion sickness.)

Suga stood in front of the large oak doors until Noya gave him the thumbs up. Clapping his hands together, Suga started his familiar intro. “Welcome, my precious Suga Babies, to the latest episode of Suganatural, where we do our best to solve the mysteries of life, death, and what comes after! Today I’m here with my wonderful crew, Hinata, and Nishinoya, who will be assisting me with the indispensable and invaluable task of making me look tall.” He paused for the traditional outraged squawks from his companions before continuing, “And here we are at our latest target, the beautiful but decrepit Pelton House!”

He spun around, grabbing the door handles and flinging them open. Or trying to. The door was heavy, and age had shifted and pushed it out of alignment, so it took a bit of shoving and grunting before he managed to crack one of the double doors open enough to squeeze into the entry. “Um, cut that part out.”

Noya gave him an enthusiastic and insincere thumbs-up before following Suga into the musty front hall. “Now, the Pelton house is special, brimming with—“

“Did you hear that?” Hinata squeaked, shifting close to Suga’s side.

“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it? The sun is still up, Shouyo,” Noya called from behind the camera.

Hinata didn’t answer, peering down one of the dark halls leading deeper into the house. “I heard voices! Didn’t you guys?”

Suga tilted his head, but only the soft whistling of the wind came to him. Noya also shook his head. “I got nothing.”

“I heard it! I know people were talking!”

Suga clapped Hinata on the shoulder. “We’ll go that way first, then, but I want to finish the intro first.” He turned back toward the camera and continued, “Now, the Pelton house is—“

“There! It happened again!” Hinata grabbed the sleeve of Suga’s shirt, peering down one of the dark hallways branching off from the entryway.

“Hinata, I swear to god—“

“I heard it too.” Noya had lowered the camera and was also staring at the hallway. Suga paused. Noya was excitable, but he rarely jumped at shadows. If he said he heard something, it was worth investigating.

They stood in the dark hallway, holding their breath as they strained for any sound apart from the groaning of the old house.

Just when Suga was about to give up, a sound echoed down the corridor, obviously separate from the rest of the house sounds. A loud, booming laugh.

Suga’s heart sped up in his chest. There was no way that was the sound of a house settling. The annoying, rational part of his mind reminded him of the pickup and the open lock, but Suga hadn’t gotten this far by being rational.

“Let’s go!” He slipped into the hall and started creeping toward the noise, heart hammering in his throat with the potent mix of fear and excitement that he wasn’t sure he could live without at this point. Noya and Hinata crept along behind him, equally quiet.

He was straining his ears, but any wisp of sound was swallowed by the ambient noise of the old house before he could parse it.

A sound that could have been a voice briefly rose above the rest, and Suga paused, tilting his head to hear better, but it didn’t repeat. He sighed.

“OK, it looks like-” A bloodcurdling shriek split the air, high and drawn-out before suddenly cutting off.

Suga didn’t think. He just started running. There was no way a person made that sound. He could be here, right down the hall from what he was searching for, just around the next corner could be—

He turned the corner and slammed into something. Something very warm, very solid, and very, very alive. His momentum took them both to the floor, Suga throwing out his hands to catch himself, but it was too late, and he ended up on the floor, face pressed into the chest of the person he’d collided with.

A confusing mishmash of voices sounded around him as he pushed himself back up, trying to make sense of what had happened in the muted light of this interior corridor. The floor shifted under his hands and Suga realized his position. He was straddling the other person, hands resting on his chest. The man moaned, and Suga opened his mouth to apologize, but it died on his lips as the man pushed himself up on his elbows and Suga got a look at him for the first time. “You!”

Daichi Sawamura had been a thorn in Suga’s digital side ever since he had appeared, all chiseled jaw and dismissive skepticism as he trampled over so many of Suga’s greatest conquests, using levels and marbles to demonstrate uneven floors and misaligned doors and all sorts of petty little flaws that, possibly, could suggest some sort of alternate reasons for the slamming of doors or strange gust of wind. But still! He had done his little contractor shtick in the same location as three of Suga’s most popular videos! In one case, only a week after Suga’s video had aired! Of course, it didn’t help that when he went to look up the name that had suddenly been mentioned in a flood of derisive (and sometimes downright cruel) comments he found this handsome boy-next-store type with a broad smile and a broader chest lambasting everything Suga stood for in his no-nonsense manner.

And now he was lying on his back under Suga, dust speckling his dark hair, wincing as he touched the back of his head where it had presumably collided with the floor.

“What are you doing here?” Suga hissed. They were supposed to have the whole place to themselves.

Daichi blinked up at him, confusion stamped on his face, before being replaced with surprise. “Sugawara?”

“It’s Suga. And answer my question! Are you trying to poach our story?”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed. “Of course not. We booked this months ago. You must have messed up the dates.”

“Like hell!” Suga jabbed Daichi in his chest. “I talked to Ukai on Wednesday, and he said we were supposed to be the only ones here! You must have messed up!”

But even as he said it, it sounded false. Daichi had always seemed more like the type to apologize if he was only five minutes early. A mistake on his end seemed unlikely, but Suga was sure he had booked this night. So if the mistake wasn’t either of theirs that left…

“I’m calling Ukai.” he shifted back, fished his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, and started to dial.

Daichi sat up farther, and Suga started at how close his face suddenly was. “I’d like to hear what he has to say, but would you mind getting off me first?” He looked down pointedly, and Suga followed his gaze, only to realize he was still sitting firmly in Daichi’s lap.

He scrambled back to his feet, hoping the dim light of the hallway would hide the blood rushing to his cheeks as he jabbed at his phone contacts, pulling up Ukai’s number.

The phone rang twice before a distracted voice said “Sakanoshita general store.”

“Hi, quick question. How many people are supposed to be at the Pelton house tonight?”

A beat of quiet, then the sound of a long exhale and some rustling papers. “Uh, this is… Suganatural, right? Looks like just you. I don’t have another booking until the seventh. Spring’s a slow season for ghosts.”

Suga gritted his teeth. “TODAY is the seventh!”

The sound of something being set down with a clunk, and the voice got clearer. “What? No, it’s Friday.”

“Friday the seventh!”

“That’s not-- wait a minute…” more rustling papers and then a bark of laughter that did not sound apologetic. “Shit, this calendar is from last year. So I guess you and the Sawamura kid are both there?”

Suga ground his teeth together and glared at the ‘Sawamura kid’ in question. “Yes, we are. And we would like to not both be here, so if you could find Mr. Sawamura another day to come back--”

“What? No way!” Daichi hissed. “We drove two hours to get here. We are not just going to leave.”

Suga pulled the phone away from his ear. “And we drove three! So we aren’t leaving either!”

The argument was interrupted by a gusty sigh down the phone line. “Well, when you figure it out, let me know. In the meantime, it’s a big house, so there should be plenty of ghosts to--” and indistinct bell noise echoed down the line, and Ukai called out a greeting. “Look, I got customers. Call back tomorrow and we can talk again.” The line went dead.

Suga stared at his phone in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. The gas alone cost a week’s worth of ad revenue. The loss would be brutal.

“So, no luck?” Daichi’s face was grim. His channel wasn’t much bigger than Suga’s, so his budget would probably also be strained by a delay. Daichi sighed, running a hand over his face. “Look, he does have a point. It’s a big house. It shouldn’t be too hard to stay out of each other’s way for a night.”

“Absolutely not! How are we supposed to do a proper investigation with other people in the house? The audio data would be totally unreliable!”

Daichi stared at Suga, one eyebrow raised. “Investigation? Reliable? That’s a bit much, isn’t it? You just put all the spooky noises in after the fact, right?”

“We don’t!” Hinata bristled. “All our evidence is totally legit. All we do is boost the audio sometimes!”

“Like that’s much better,” snarled one of Daichi’s cameramen. “Everything can sound freaky when you make it loud enough.” He was tall, his face twisted into a fearsome scowl as he glared at Hinata, who shuffled back a few feet even as he puffed out his chest.

“Th-that’s not true. We totally hear stuff. Like,” he pointed triumphantly at the cameraman, “what about just now? That scream? That was definitely some kind of ghost or spirit or- or-”

He was cut off as Daichi burst out laughing. Under different, more appealing circumstances, Suga might have been tempted to say it was a nice laugh, deep and warm, and making Daichi’s eyes crinkle in the corners. However, these were not appealing circumstances and Suga absolutely did not think any of those things.

“You hear that, Asahi? Some kind of ghost, or monster, or banshee. Not the sound of a grown man.”

The other cameraman, Asahi, kicked sheepishly at the carpet and muttered something about a mouse. So much for that.

Suga sighed. “Well, can you just come back tomorrow? It doesn’t have to be dark for you to wave around your little rulers.”

It was Daichi’s turn to sigh. “No way. The lighting would be different during the day. We want to be under the same circumstances that people like you use so your fanatics have fewer details to pick at.”

“Details to pick at? You mean holes in your logic?”

“They aren’t holes. At best it’s plausible deniability. Your lot just doesn’t know the difference between ‘vaguely possible’ and ‘actually provable.’”

“If it was provable you would have--”

“Why don’t we just collab?” Noya piped up, sounding gratingly cheerful as deathly silence descended on the hall.

“Um, excuse us for a moment. I need to… consult with my colleagues.” Suga said, before hooking his elbow around Noya’s neck and dragging him away from the group.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Suga hissed, as soon as they were out of earshot. “We can’t work with them!”

“Why not?” Noya shrugged, looking completely unbothered by the situation.

“Because they’re our enemies! They stand for everything we hate! We can’t work with them!”

“Yeah!” Hinata said, glaring at the other three men, “and that tall guy keeps glaring at me!”

Suga looked back, just in time to see the ‘tall guy’ in question glance back toward Daichi.

“Come on, Suga! This is a great opportunity! We could reach so many people this way! And we don’t want to be trying to film around each other.” He grinned at Suga who scowled back.

“Oh, yeah? And it has nothing to do with your thing for guys with goatees?”

“It’s not just about the goatee! He also has a ponytail! And that’s beside the point. You know this is the best move.”

Suga sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Noya was right. It was the best option to save both their videos and maybe even get them a boost in subs. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“OK, fine.” He turned back to the other group. “We’ve decided we’ll let you film with us.”

Daichi arched an eyebrow. “You’ll let us? I don’t remember agreeing to this plan.”

The tall one frowned. “But you just said it was a good idea.”

Suga snorted as Daichi glared at his cameraman. “Though I guess it’s our best option.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Should we swap scripts first?”

Suga blinked. “Scripts?”

“Yeah. You do have a script, right?”

“Um…”

Daichi’s sigh was starting to get annoying. “OK, fine. Let’s just wing it, I guess. Come on.” Before Suga could protest the abrupt treatment he paused and waved to his companions. “Oh, and this is Kageyama and Asahi.”

Suga nodded to them, leaving Noya to fill the tense silence with chatter as he followed Daichi down the hall.

The next few minutes were taken up with camera angles and lighting as they set up the opening shot. They ended up sitting in front of a long oak table, Daichi sideways in a chair facing the camera, and Suga perched on the table with his feet on a chair.

“So, since you don’t have a script I assume I should take the opening,” Daichi said, chin resting in his hand as Hinata and Kageyama squabbled about something sound-related in the background.

Suga narrowed his eyes. “Just because I don’t have a script doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“What, so you just make it up as you go?”

“I don’t make it up. I improvise.”

Daichi looked like he was going to respond, but was interrupted by Noya’s voice. “We’re all set here! You guys ready?”

Suga looked away from Daichi, taking a deep breath and trying to get his show-face on. “All set.”

Noya nodded, holding up his fingers to count them in.

Once the last finger dropped Suga clapped his hands together, cutting off anything Daichi might have said before speaking. “OK, after that brief interruption, we are back with some… unexpected guests of the corporeal variety.” Daichi opened his mouth, probably to introduce himself, but Suga continued before he had a chance. “But that’s not important! We still need to introduce the most important figure! The Pelton House itself!

“First built in 1874 by a family of wealthy fabric merchants, the original residents consisted of Gregory Pelton, his wife Marguerite, and their three children, Sarah, Constance, and Adam. While Sarah and Adam left to start their own lives, Constance remained with her parents, focusing on her struggling painting career.” Suga dropped his voice, ignoring Daichi’s eye roll. “As time went on Constance began to pull back from society, and strange rumors started circulating among the staff. Eerie noises, fits of passion, and even whispers of devil worship. In the following— Sorry, did you want to add something?”

Daichi, who had just snorted loudly blinked up at him, eyes wide. “What? No, of course not.”

Suga glared for another second, then turned back toward the camera, but before he could continue, Daichi spoke up again. “I mean, it might be worth mentioning that the rumors only ever appeared in a tabloid known for having a generous interpretation of journalistic integrity.”

There it was. Suga gritted his teeth. “The source was a former butler who had been recently let go, and there’s nothing to suggest the interview was fake.”

“I don’t think that one ex-employee’s word is that reliable.”

Suga twisted to face Daichi. “It isn’t just the butler. Both Gregory and Marguerite mention their daughter’s ‘eccentricity’ in letters too—“

“It was the nineteenth century! Any woman not married by thirty was considered eccentric!”

“But they had already said in early letters they had given up on the prospect of her marrying! They weren’t discussing that!”

“Just because they gave up on her marrying doesn’t mean they couldn’t talk about it!”

“That’s just—“

“Um, guys?” Suga and Daichi both snapped their gaze onto Asahi, who swallowed nervously, “I think you might be a little off-track?”

“No, let them go,” Noya said, pushing the camera in on Daichi’s scowl. “This is what the people will want.”

Suga took a breath and Daichi turned away with another sigh.

“OK, fine,” Suga continued. “Let’s just table that. The important part is what happened in January 1903.” He cleared his throat, letting his voice drop into a spookier register. “A grocery delivery had gone unanswered, and the town’s law enforcement decided to brave the downpour—“

“Drizzle.”

Suga ground his teeth together, as Daichi nonchalantly inspected his nails. “Excuse me?”

“It was only drizzling.”

“It’s not that different!”

“I’m just trying to be accurate.”

“You mean pedantic?”

“No, I mean accurate! Just because you have no—“

“Fine, whatever!” Suga waved a hand in the air, cutting Daichi off. “They braved the noticeable but not statistically significant rain to venture up the hill to the Pelton manor. And what they found there would haunt them for the rest of their days.” He ignored Daichi’s sigh this time, pressing forward. “There were four people in the house that night, the three Peltons, and a maid. They found the maid first, laying in a pool of her blood with a bullet hole in her chest.”

Suga took a moment to let the tension build, savoring the rapt look on the other men’s faces as he told his story. “They found the elder Peltons in their bedroom. Marguerite was on the floor as if she had been trying to leave the bed before she was shot. Gregory was still in bed, covers up and a nightcap in place, and a bullethole in his forehead.”

Daichi, thankfully, had shut up and seemed to be letting Suga talk. Finally. “At this point, the police were at a loss. Such a violent crime could only be a robbery, but nothing was disturbed. Even Mrs. Pelton’s jewelry, which was all resting in an open box on her dresser, showed no signs of having been touched. Combined with the excessive nature of the crime the police were on edge, which explains what happened next. As they approached Constance's room both officers had their weapons drawn, and at a sudden noise behind them they both spun, guns raised, and—“ He paused dramatically, “well, that’s where accounts diverge. Deputy John Bast claims that Constance Pelton emerged, blood staining her skirts and a ‘mad glint’ in her eye as she raised a revolver toward them before Bast fired, hitting her once in the chest.

“On the other hand, Sargent Charlie Lopes claims that Constance was unarmed, and her red dress showed no evidence of stains.” Suga shrugged. “By the time backup arrived and state officials were involved, there had been too much time and opportunity for either man to alter the scene. The truth at this point is impossible to discern.”

“Not impossible. Bast had a serious grudge against the Peltons,” Suga whipped around to glare at Daichi, but the other man only met his eyes calmly as he continued. “His mother and sister had died in a fire at one of their factories and there are several accounts of him threatening violence against the family.”

“AND Lopes had a serious grudge against Bast, who had reported him to the chief for abusing his power to extort grudges from local businesses.” Suga raised his voice to drown out Daichi’s protests. “He could have used the opportunity to get Bast kicked off the force.”

“But Lopes left shortly after!”

“So? It just means he wasn’t as successful as he wanted to be, not that he wasn’t framing Bast at the Pelton House.”

“That’s just speculation—“

“And so is the theory that Bast shot Constance in revenge! All we have is speculation!”

“Oh, please. That’s so typical of you people. Anything to—“

“Excuse me?! ‘You people?!’ What the hell does that mean?”

Daichi narrowed his eyes. “You know. Anything for the most dramatic story, no matter what the facts are. I hate to imagine what you’re going to say about the orphanage or the alleged hospital.”

Suga let his foot slip off the chair so he could loom over Daichi. Not that it seemed to bother the man. “It’s more than ‘alleged.’ There are records of advertisements for patients and job listings listing the Pelton as the address!”

Daichi narrowed his eyes. “But no records that suggest any of the ads were answered.”

“So? And what’s to deny about the orphanage? That was super well documented!”

Daichi pushed himself to his feet, leaning in closer to Suga. “I know that! I’m not denying what happened at the orphanage, but that doesn’t mean I’m OK with it getting turned into some stupid campfire story by people like y—“

“I said cut it out with the ‘you people’ stuff! And it’s not about turning it into a scary story. It’s about giving those kids a voice if they are still here!”

“Yeah, sure, just keep telling yourself—“

“OK!” Noya interrupted, “I think we have enough of that! The rest of the history can be added in post if there’s anything else you want to include. How about we move on?”

Suga took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose as he tried to get his stupid emotions under control.

“Sure. fine. Let’s just move on.” He looked around the room they were in. The sun had set and the only light was coming from the lights they had set up. “Let’s move on to the seance.”

“The what?” Daichi asked, voice laden with disbelief.

“It’s a good way to make initial contact, get a feel for the spirits, that sort of thing,” Suga said, jumping down from the table as Hinata dropped his backpack to the floor and pulled out the worn cardboard box with Suga’s spirit board.

Daichi rolled his eyes. “Don’t say that with such a straight face. You have to know that thing is just a toy.” Suga bristled, clutching the board to his chest.

“It is not! It’s an ancient device that has been used for centuries!”

Daichi only snorted. “Not centuries. It was invented in the late 1800s to capitalize on the spiritualist trend. It’s just a piece of wood.”

“That’s— so what!” Suga yanked the top off and tipped the board onto the table. Now that Daichi said it he vaguely remembered reading that, but he didn’t have to like it. “What matters is it works.”

“History aside, that thing,” He pointed at Suga’s board, “was made by Hasbro. A toy company.”

“It— that doesn’t matter! What matters is the— the— energy! And I’ve had this board since I was a kid and it has great energy!”

Daichi’s eyes narrowed. “You have got to be kidding.”

“Whatever, just sit down, and don’t you dare take your hand off before I say it’s OK.” Suga pointed at the seat opposite, but Daichi didn’t move.

“Wait, you want me to be part of this?”

Suga jabbed his finger at the chair again. “Obviously. I’m not going to let you just stand off to the side and accuse me of moving it. You need to be part of this.”

Several expressions crossed Daichi’s face in rapid succession before he finally sat gingerly in the chair across from Suga. “So I just put my fingers on it?”

“Yes, really lightly, so you don’t make it hard to move.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to put the ghost out.”

Suga pointedly ignored him, clearing his throat as he set his fingers on the planchette and took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind down and focus all his energy on the tips of his fingers.

Letting his eyes fall closed Suga started to speak. “Spirits, are you with us?”

Suga ignored the soft snort from across from him and concentrated on the board. “If you are here, give us a sign.”

The planchette was still, no sound in the room beside the soft breathing of six people.

After almost thirty seconds of silence, Suga spoke again. “Is there anyone here?”

More silence, and then a slight tugging of the planchette. Suga opened his eyes, leaning forward to watch as the little plastic triangle jolted and twitched across the board until it came to rest over the ‘YES’ in the corner of the board.

Suga glanced up at Daichi with a smug grin, but the other man only scowled suspiciously back. Still, It was enough for Suga. He cleared his throat and started to ask “Who is—“ but before he could finish the planchette started to move again, down onto the alphabet and coming to rest on the ‘L’ for a moment, before jerking away again.

‘E’

‘A’

‘V’

‘E’

“Leave?” Hinata squeaked. “They want us to leave?”

Suga ignored him in favor of addressing the board again. “Can you tell us why we should leave?”

‘L’

‘E’

‘A’

‘V’

‘E’

This was starting to get frustrating. Suga tried again. “We get that, but can you—“

‘L’

“—tell us why—“

‘E’

“—Ok, yes I get that, but—“

‘A’

“— please just tell us—

‘V’

“—why you—“

‘E’

No sooner had the planchette paused over the E, it darted back to rest on the L and began the cycle again.

“OK, you can’t expect me to buy this,” Daichi said, and Suga looked up as the planchette continued to spell out its warning.

“I’m not doing this! You can see I’m barely touching the planchette!”

“That’s not the only way to manipulate this thing.”

“Well, I’m not! It’s a message! And we get it already! You want us to leave!” Suga snapped at the board. “Can you at least tell us your name?”

The planchette finally stopped, resting in the center of the board for a long moment before moving again, slower this time. In a much smoother motion, it crossed the board, resting on ‘N’ before moving on. Suga read the letters out as they were highlighted. “H… A… N…” Daichi sucked in a breath, but Suga didn’t look up, waiting for the cursor to leave the N. “A… K… O… Hey! Don’t move the planchette!”

“Do you think this is funny?”

Suga’s head snapped up. Daichi was shaking, his face dark as he stared across the table at Suga. “You know who Hana—“

“Shut up.” Venom dripped from Daichi’s voice as his lip curled in a snarl. “I don’t know if you looked me up or if this was the plan from the beginning, but I’m not going to be a part of this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I didn’t look up anything!”

“Whatever. I’m done with this stupid farce. We’re leaving.”

“I said I didn’t— wait, don’t take your hands off!”

But it was too late. Daichi stood, tearing his hands away from the planchette as he did. The second his fingers left the board the air split around them in a horrible screech. This was nothing like a man startled by a mouse. The sound dragged on, long past the capacity of any human lungs, and Suga instinctively covered his ears to block out the noise, but it didn’t help. It was like the noise was coming from within, echoing out of his very bones.

Finally, after what seemed like an unbearable length of time, the noise ended and silence rushed back in to fill the space. Slowly, Suga took his hands off his ears and looked around the room, taking stock of the others. Hinata was petrified, clinging to the arm of Daichi’s sound guy, Kageyama, who seemed more concerned with the redhead hanging off his arm than whatever the noise had been. Noya wasn’t smiling, every muscle in his body tense as he looked around the room with wide eyes. Asahi, the big cameraman, was leaning against a dresser by the door, pale as a sheet as he clutched his chest.

“What the fuck was that?” Daichi gasped as he leaned against the table.

Suga cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. “Well, it didn’t sound human. That’s for sure.” He pushed himself to his feet and opened one of the doors they hadn’t been through. “Let’s check it out.”

“What?” Hinata squeaked, still clutching Kageyama’s arm. “A-are you sure? That sounded really, really bad.”

“It’s just a sound, don’t be a baby. And get off me.” Kageyama put a hand on Hinata’s forehead and shoved him away.

“TH-that wa-wasn’t j-just a sound,” Asahi stammered, still clutching his chest like he was trying to physically hold his heart in his chest.

“It was probably a cougar.” Daichi seemed to have recovered as he strode purposefully around the table and pushed the door Suga was holding open wider. “They can sound really eerie.”

“Eerie? You think that was just eerie?” Suga hissed, shoving Daichi out of the way and starting down the hallway.

“Hay, wait! If that was a cougar we should—“

“That wasn’t a cougar!” Suga snapped, as the rest of the group stumbled out of the room after him and Daichi. “No wonder you never see anything interesting if you hear something like that and don’t even check it out.” He threw another door open and stomped down the hallway.

Daichi huffed as they came out in some kind of dining room, before choosing another door into an almost identical faded yellow hallway. “I don’t miss anything, I’m just not stupid enough to—“

“I’m not stupid! I just believe in actually verifying things before jumping to conclusions! Isn’t that supposed to be your whole deal? Actually checking stuff out? Or do you always just ignore all the evidence that doesn’t support what you’re looking for.”

The next door bounded off the wall with a bang as Daichi shoved it open. “Oh, you’re one to talk. You stand next to an open window and claim every single gust of wind is some kind of message from the dead. I’m not the delusional one.”

Suga turned to face him with a snarl. “I’m not delusional, you stuck-up prick! Just because you don’t believe in something doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be investigated!” Daichi opened his mouth to argue, but Suga ignored him. “And we’re getting nowhere like this. Hinata, give me the map so I can figure out where we are."

Instead of the usual chirp of assent, there was nothing but silence. “Hinata?” Suga looked back down the hallway, but only Asahi and Noya looked back. The other two were nowhere to be seen.

Daichi cursed softly. “Asahi, you weren’t watching Kageyama?”

Asahi started guiltily. “I was! I swear he was right here a second ago!”

“Well, he’s not now.” Daichi started down the hall and pushed open the door they had just come through. “God knows where he is now. Do you think he’s with your guy?”

“Probably.” Noya piped up, completely unconcerned as he threw some more doors open in the hallway. “Hinata’s like a leech when he’s scared. He would just follow the nearest warm body.”

“So they at least have a map,” Asahi said, with a glance at Suga, who nodded.

“Well, that won’t help Kageyama. He can’t read a map and his sense of direction is non-existent.” Daichi paused in the hallway they had just followed Noya into.

“Ugh. Hinata’s not that much better. He’s fine when he’s calm, but in this situation, there’s a good chance he doesn’t even remember he has a map.” Suga continued down the hall, pulling out his flashlight and turning it on in the growing dimness of the hallway.

Noya laughed brightly as he trailed behind Suga. “Yeah, remember the forest when he got so scared he climbed into a tree and got stuck? I thought we were going to have to call the fire department.”

Suga’s lip twitched. It had been an exhausting night, standing in the freezing cold trying to coax Hinata down for almost an hour, but the resulting video was one of their best.

He did hope Hinata was all right. Kageyama hadn’t stopped scowling the entire time they had been in the house, and Hinata could be a bit… skittish at the best of times.

“Hey, what’s that?” Noya suddenly bounded past him before skidding to a stop in front of a door halfway down the hall.

It was heavier than the other doors they had come through so far, a dark, solid oak with rusted iron hinges and a heavy latch slid into place.

Noya shoved the latch back with a screech of metal, before pulling at the handle with all his strength. With a groan, it shifted about half an inch before stubbornly grinding to a halt.

“Jeez, it’s really stuck.” He braced one foot against the wall and tried again, face screwed up in effort as he pulled with all his might.

Asahi pushed past Suga, hands waving nervously as he came up behind Noya. “Be careful! You’re going to— Gah!” the door gave in a sudden jerk, and Noya was flung backward into Asahi, knocking them both to the floor.

Noya was on his feet again in a heartbeat, peering excitedly through the newly open door. “Look! Stairs!”

Suga peeked over his shoulder and found himself staring down a set of rough stone stairs leading into yawning darkness. He whistled. “This must be the basement. But It’s supposed to be locked. Apparently, it’s not safe.”

“Who cares? All the spookiest stuff happens in the basement!” Noya darted forward eagerly, starting down the steps.

“Wait! We can’t!” Asahi, who had just stumbled to his feet, lunged forward to grab Noya’s arm. Unfortunately, despite his small stature, Noya in motion had the momentum of a freight train.

Noya’s foot slipped off the stair, but he continued forward, pulling Asahi along with him. In a final effort to stop them, Asahi grabbed the inner handle of the door, but only managed to pull it shut behind the two men with a bang as they vanished into the darkness.

“Asahi! Shit!” Daichi grabbed the handle and tugged, but it didn’t budge no matter how hard he yanked.

“Let me help.” Suga grabbed the handle, his hands just above Daichi’s, and their shoulders pressed together as they pulled in unison.

“It’s no use,” Suga said, finally letting go and slumping against the wall opposite, shaking his aching fingers. “There must be a latch on the other side or something.”

“Fuck!” Daichi kicked at the door, before rounding on Suga, running his hands through his hair frantically. “What the hell was your guy thinking?”

“Noya doesn’t think. It’s sort of a recurring issue. It’s fine though.” Suga pushed himself up and shined the light down the hallway. “I’m sure they’ll be back in a second.”

“Are you joking? What if they’re hurt? If they hit their heads? We need to get to them!”

Suga winced, glancing back at Daichi. “It— it’ll be fine. Noya’s indestructible. He never gets hurt. He’ll be back in a minute.” Hopefully.

Daichi just glared at him. “You can’t know that. If they’re stuck we need to get the fire department here, or an ambulance.”

“Well, you won’t from in here. No service. Besides,” Suga shone the flashlight down the hall again, watching the faint beam get swallowed by the oppressive darkness of the house, “we need to be more worried about the house itself.”

Daichi glanced around with a frown. “What? It seems fine. The basement’s the only part that’s structurally unsound.”

“That’s not what I mean.” The atmosphere pressed in on them, something malevolent that seemed to hover just out of the range of the flashlight. “I think that noise was something waking up. Something angry, and now—“

“Will you shut up about that?!” Daichi cut him off, angrily swiping a hand through the air. “This is real life! Our friends could be in serious trouble and you’re still babbling about that supernatural crap?!”

Suga spun around, gripping the flashlight in rage. “I know! I know it’s real! That’s why I’m worried about the ‘supernatural crap.’ Do you really think this is just a coincidence? We’re being picked off! You're so stubborn you can’t even see what’s right in front of you!”

“I’m stubborn? That’s rich, coming from you.” Daichi took a step closer, and Suga glowered at him, pulling himself up to his full height.

“Back off. I’m worried too, but we won’t get anything done by ignoring the—“ he stopped, ice filling his veins as he stared over Daichi’s shoulder at the wall behind them.

“What? What’s wrong?” Daichi spun around and froze as well.

Where the basement door had been was now nothing but a blank wall.

——————————

Suga’s flashlight beam flickered across the walls, illuminating faded wallpaper and grimy paintings, their morose subjects hardly visible through the thick layer of dust.

“We’re going in circles. I know we’ve passed this way before.” He let his light rest on a portrait of a young woman in a pale blue dress. Or at least he thought it was blue. Time hadn’t been kind to the painting, caked with dirt and a small circular burn mark in the corner. “I’ve seen this painting of a lady scowling at some flowers already.” He squinted at the woman’s pinched expression. “Do you think she had allergies? I have no idea why someone would be so angry at some roses.”

A heavy sigh, already familiar to Suga, and Daichi said “We’re not. There are no footprints in the dust. No one has been this way in a long time.” He didn’t even bother turning around and Suga narrowed his eyes.

“What, so they have two copies of the same painting?”

“They must. It’s the only logical explanation.”

Suga caught up with Daichi as they turned down yet another identical hallway. “You’re still saying that? After Hinata and your angry cameraman vanished? And then the door that ate Noya and the big guy? You’re still trying to pretend there’s some kind of logical answer?”

It was too dark to see clearly, but Suga saw the faint outline of his companion’s shoulders tense. “They didn’t vanish. We just got separated. And it’s an old house. Doors slam. That doesn’t mean they were eaten.”

“Oh yeah? Are doors vanishing when you look away a common problem in old houses? That must be a building code violation.”

Daichi didn’t respond, and the only sound was the soft scuff of their feet on the threadbare runner chipped away at the heavy, oppressive silence of the house.

Suga shined the light right in Daichi’s face. “Come on, Sherlock. Tell me how doors just vanish. Logically.”

In the light of the flashlight, Suga could see Daichi’s brow knit in concentration. “It’s… there must be. We just… got turned around. Lost track of the door. That’s it.”

“Are you kidding?” Suga shoved the flashlight closer, and Daichi squinted against the light. “We were right in front of it!”

“It was a stressful situation. People make mistakes. And stop that.” He grabbed Suga’s flashlight and pointed it back down the corridor.

Suga huffed, but before he could respond he caught sight of a familiar blue dress and groaned. “There she is again! It’s the flower lady! I told you—“ Suga stopped, ice flooding his chest as he stared at the painting.

“We only went around three corners. We can’t be back where we started.”

“Daichi.”

“And there’s still no footprints in the dust. I told you—“

“Daichi.”

“—We can’t have gone in a circle. We just need to—“

“Daichi!” Suga grabbed his companion and spun him toward the painting. “It changed!”

Daichi stared at Suga, then up at the painting. “What? No, this is a copy of the other’s.”

“It’s not a copy! The same burn mark is in the corner! But look!” He pointed with his flashlight, the beam illuminating the woman’s face as she glared at them, eyes burning under the grime.

Suga’s heart was beating in his throat, and he tightened his grip on Daichi’s arm. Her expression had seemed so out of place when she was looking at the flowers, but now it filled him with dread as she stared down her nose at him.

“It looks the same to me. You’re just letting your imagination get the best of you. Come on, we should keep going.” He turned away, and Suga stumbled after him, reluctant to lose contact with Daichi, but also terrified to look away from the woman.

Her eyes followed him as they rounded the corner, malice thick in the air. Suga let out a breath of relief when she finally vanished, only to run into Daichi’s back as he stopped suddenly.

“Hey, what are you—“ Suga froze as he saw what Daichi was looking at. The same burn, the same painting, but now the woman was turned fully towards them, one hand outstretched and her face twisted into a snarl.

Panic raced through Suga’s veins, hot and molten, screaming at his muscles to move while rooting him to the floor and crushing the breath from his chest. They weren’t in front of the painting, but she still looked straight at him. The grime that had covered the painting was still prominent, caught in the divots and whorls of caked-on oils, but her eyes were perfectly visible, wide, and bloodshot as she raised her hand.

“What the—“ Daichi’s low exclamation snapped Suga out of his trance, and suddenly the urge to leave, to get out, get away was all he could feel.

“We’re going back,” he hissed, dragging at Daichi’s arm. Maybe it was stupid to tread the ground they had already covered but every instinct in Suga’s body, every fiber of his being, was telling him he did not want to see the next painting.

Ignoring Daichi’s protests he yanked them back the way they had come. Anything to get away from that painting, those eyes, even if it meant going down the same halls they had already crossed. Anything was better, anything, anything, any—

He froze, fear crystallizing as his flashlight swept across the blank wall behind them.

“What the fuck?”

The piece of Suga’s mind that wasn’t completely gone to panic felt a thrill of satisfaction at the slight tremor in Daichi’s voice. Even Mr. Logical wouldn’t be able to explain how the hall they had walked down only seconds before had vanished completely, nothing but a blank, dusty wall in front of them.

Slowly, hesitantly, like it was the absolute last thing in the world he wanted to do, Suga turned back to the corridor, the painting looming in front of them, and Suga could swear that she was smiling now, her lips curled slightly into a cruel grin as she watched their futile attempt to escape.

Daichi was saying something else, but Suga couldn’t hear him over the rushing of blood in his ears as something fastened around his chest like a vice. A giant, icy hand had slipped through his chest and seized his heart in its freezing grip. It tugged and Suga stumbled forward, one step, then another, toward the corner where he knew more paintings waited.

Daichi was louder now, but also farther away as Suga was dragged forward down the hall. He rounded the corner into the longest hall yet, lined with the dull glint of frames upon frames of paintings, but he only caught a glimpse before his head was yanked around to face the wall.

She was there, farther forward now, smile more prominent as her fingers stretched toward Suga.

Another yank, and he was moving down the hall, the pictures passing, slowly at first but faster and faster as his unwilling feet sped up into almost a run. He thought he heard a shout but it was muffled and distant.

The pictures flashed past like some kind of horrible flip-book, the woman moving inexorably closer to him with jerky steps, both hands outstretched as her mouth opened in what seemed to be a scream as she pressed at the canvas border between her and Suga.

His feet stopped like he had stepped into molasses, all forward momentum vanishing as he faced the final painting. It should be a trick, some kind of foreshortening to create an illusion, but Suga couldn’t bring himself to dismiss the hand that had stretched out, past the frame of the picture and towards where he was frozen to the ground.

This was it. The end. All over. Something primal, deep in Suga’s brain, told him that he wouldn’t survive this. The picture shuddered, then dropped to the ground with a crash before tipping perilously forward until that horrible visage filled Suga’s vision.

Warm arms wrapped around his chest and yanked him back, against something solid as the picture landed face down on the moldy carpet with an anticlimactic puff of dust.

For a moment neither of them spoke, Daichi’s arms still around Suga’s middle and his breath hot against Suga’s ear.

With a groan, Suga tipped his head back to rest on Daichi’s shoulder, soaking up the feeling of another warm body behind him.

Daichi’s arms twitched, but then they tightened, holding Suga tighter against his chest. “Jesus Christ. What the fuck was that?” Suga felt the words rumble through Daichi’s chest, his horse voice comfortingly close.

“I don’t know, but I doubt it fits in your particular brand of logic.” Daichi didn’t answer. Suga closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow back down to a reasonable speed. Finally, reluctantly, he went to push away from Daichi only for his arms to tighten again, keeping Suga against his chest.

“Um,” Suga tapped Daichi’s hand, “While I do admit that you’re a good hugger, I think I really want to find a way out now.”

“What? Oh!” Daichi’s arms pulled away almost insultingly fast and the warmth of his chest vanished as Suga was released. “Er, sorry.”

“It’s fine. You saved my life, might as well cop a feel, right?” Daichi spluttered and stammered excuses, but Suga only laughed. “I’m joking. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” The feeble light from their flashlights was too weak to fully see Daichi’s expression, but something in his voice made Suga’s heart speed up in an entirely new way. “Um, well, let’s keep moving, then. Getting out sounds good right now.”

They inched carefully past the fallen painting and continued down the hall. Suga felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and his steps practically bounced as he walked besides Daichi. “So,” He said, and Daichi’s face tipped toward him in the dark, “How do you plan on disproving this haunting? Do you have some kind of level or marble that can explain creepy murder paintings?”

Daichi sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t even know. I guess part of it depends on what kind of footage we have. Something tells me that it won’t be much and I’m going to end up sounding like, well, you.”

Suga should have been insulted, but he was caught on something else. “Wait, you’re going to tell the truth? Admit you were wrong?”

“Of course. That’s the point of the channel. To find the truth. I can’t go through something like this and then just lie.” He sighed. “It wouldn’t be objective, though I suppose we haven’t ruled out some kind of gas leak or mass hallucination.”

Suga was quiet for a moment, letting the soft thumps of their muffled footsteps fill the air. “But,” he started, “you don’t have to. I mean, even if the cameras have something on them all the doubters will say we faked it.” An edge of bitterness leaked into his voice before he could bite it back.

Daichi was quiet for a moment, before answering. “I hate the idea of false hope. That’s what this was all about when it started, you know. Just promoting objective thinking and fact-checking so people don’t get taken advantage of.”

And they had been doing so well. “You think I take advantage of people?” Suga narrowed his eyes, ready to keep going but Daichi interrupted him, holding up his hands in surrender.

“What? Oh, no! Not you! I mean, making stupid videos isn’t that big of a deal in long run, it’s more about—“

“Stupid?”

“Er- no, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant—“

Daichi spluttered, his cheeks red even in the dim light of their flashlights. Suga wasn’t nearly as offended as he would have been at the start of the night, but he was starting to enjoy flustering Daichi. Suga finally took pity and elbowed Daichi playfully. “Don’t worry about it, I’m just winding you up.” Daichi slumped in relief, and Suga continued “but I am curious what you actually mean.”

For a moment, Daichi didn’t speak, the only sound was the scuffing of their sneakers on the moldy carpet.

Just when Suga was about to give up and change the subject, Daichi spoke. “My mom died when I was in high school, and my dad took it really hard. I mean, I guess anyone would, but he just locked himself in his bedroom all day. I ended up having to take on most of the household chores and look after my siblings on my own.”

“That sounds rough,” Suga murmured. The phrase felt inadequate, but Daichi smiled anyway.

“Well, yeah, but it wasn’t too bad. I’m lucky my siblings were pretty great. But then the debit card I used to buy groceries started getting declined. A lot. I finally confronted my dad about it and it turned out he’d been spending it on some Internet psychic who claimed to be giving him messages from my mom.” Daichi sighed. “By the time I found out it was too late. We ended up having to get split up between my grandparents and aunts and uncles.” Even in the dim light, Suga could see Daichi’s jaw tighten.

“You got split up?”

“Yeah. I mean, taking in six kids at once is a lot for anyone. We all live in the same area, so it wasn’t like we never saw each other, but it was still rough.”

The sound of their muffled footsteps was the only sound as they both walked lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Suga spoke.

“I’ve met a lot of people who claim to be psychics, and most of them have been like that. It’s frustrating. That’s the opposite of what I want to do.”

“So you… really didn’t look me up?”

Suga shook his head. “Is this about the spirit board? Hanako? Does that name mean something to you?”

“It’s my mom’s name,” Daichi said, his voice clipped.

Suga winced. No wonder he had been so angry. It would have been an incredibly cruel thing to do.

“I didn’t. And, um,” Suga struggled for the right words, “well, I do know two people who I think are actual psychics and not frauds, and they both say that kind of thing is… unlikely.”

“What?”

Suga sighed. “Spirits are pretty location-bound, and if they are here it’s always for sad reasons. They don’t follow people around and they don’t protect people. At least, that’s what they both say.”

“And you trust them?” Daichi’s tone was hard to interpret, and Suga was reluctant to shine the light at him again to see his face.

“Yeah. Neither of them would take money for something like that.” Well, Oikawa might. But he wouldn’t take it too far. Probably. And Kenma would pay someone not to ask him questions.

“Aren’t you trying to prove that stuff is real, though?”

Suga scowled. “I’m not out to prove every fringe theory and conspiracy theory is real. I just…” he scratched the back of his head, trying to find the words, “I just want them not to be alone, you know? Like the orphans in the west wing. If there are a bunch of kids just… stuck there, alone, for years and years not able to move on and no one to hear them, doesn’t it make you sad?” He shrugged. “I just think I’d rather give them a chance, even if I look like an idiot.”

He was glad the light was low so Daichi couldn’t see how red he was. He expected laughter, but instead when Daichi spoke his voice was warm. “That’s… a nice sentiment. Especially after all this.” He flicked the flashlight beam, indicating the dusty wallpaper. “But I don’t know if listening to Constance will help her. She seems to be beyond that.”

Suga nodded hesitantly. He didn’t want to admit it, but this was someone who had possibly killed three people. It didn’t look like the kind of thing that could be solved with a conversation.

“You know, I do watch your videos.”

It took a second for Daichi’s words to sink in. Finally, Suga said “Wait, really? I didn’t take you for a hate-watcher.”

Daichi scowled at him. “I didn’t hate-watch. You’re… entertaining, even if I thought a lot of the claims were ridiculous.”

“Oh, you were entertained by me? Mr. Skeptic? I’m glad I could hold your attention.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to agree with you to think you’re funny.”

Suga sidled closer, playfully elbowing Daichi in the side. “That’s it? You thought I was funny? Nothing else?”

His eyes fixed straight ahead, Daichi cleared his throat. “Well, you know, I might have noticed… other things.”

“You can say it. I know I’m devilishly handsome, you wouldn’t be the first to fall victim to my irresistible charm.” He sighed dramatically, slipping an arm through Daichi’s and leaning against him. “It’s a curse, really.”

Daichi snorted but didn’t shake him off. “Not exactly what I was going to say, but you do have a great presence on camera.”

Inside Suga was preening, but he only said “Well, obviously. I was made for the big screen.”

Daichi’s laugh was low and husky. It was a nice sound. “I don’t know how big our screens are. Most people probably watch us on their phones.”

“Well, no need to split hairs. What matters is-“ Suga was suddenly drawn up short as Daichi stopped suddenly, his body going stiff. “What’s wrong?”

But he didn’t have to answer, as Suga followed Daichi’s gaze he saw a figure, standing at the end of the hall, wearing a deep blue dress with dark stains on the skirt and chest.

Even in the low light of the hallway, every detail of the bloody dress and Constance’s face was clear as day as she stared at them down the hall, lit from below by a sourceless red glow that flickered across her face, casting the features into sharp relief. The air stirred suddenly, heavy with the musty scent of decay, undercut with something fouler that Suga really didn’t want to name.

For a moment Suga was flooded with ice-cold fear, his grip on Daichi’s arm suddenly not flirty so much as desperate.

The seconds stretched on, and Suga wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or stay here, rooted to the floor as Constance stared at them with wide, bloodshot eyes.

Just when Suga felt like he was going to scream if something didn’t happen, Daichi stepped back, pulling Suga with him.

As if she had been waiting for the movement, Constance leaped forward. It was like a damaged film reel, her movements stuttered, freezing then darting forward unnaturally fast, but there was no doubt she was getting closer, and Suga did not want to find out what she would do if she caught them.

He and Daichi spun around and started to run.

The silence was the worst. In a horror movie, there would be some kind of soundtrack in this scene, screeching cellos and somber violins as he and Daichi pounded down the corridor, but there was nothing except the ragged sound of their breaths and the frantic beat of their feet against the carpet, only drowned out by the sound of Suga’s heart thudding against his ribs.

They rounded a corner, and Daichi lurched to a stop, Suga crashing into his back and nearly sending them both to the ground again, but Daichi was solid as a rock.

“Daichi- why-“ But his question was answered when he looked up. The corridor was a dead end. Again. “Doesn’t she have any new tricks?” Suga’s voice was frantic even in his own ears.

Daichi spun around and Suga followed only to freeze again as Constance appeared around the corner. She was moving slower now, no need to rush as she moved toward them.

Desperately, Suga glanced around, for something, anything to help them escape or buy time, but the corridor was deserted, except-

There was a door, simple and plain, a strange change from the ornate oak doors they had passed through so far. Suga was also sure it had not been there a second ago, but he wasn’t feeling too picky at the moment. He grabbed Daichi’s hand, dragging him to the door and pushing it open, yanking Daichi in behind him and slamming it shut.

For a moment Suga and Daichi just panted, struggling to catch their breath in the sudden calm.

Finally, Suga turned and took in the room, bringing up his light to illuminate the shadowy shapes behind them.

“Ah!” Constance’s face loomed above him and he slammed backward into the door before his mind caught up with him and he realized it was another painting. While previous experience would indicate this didn’t mean he was safe, this painting was a far cry from the one in the hall, radiating malevolent intent.

In this one Constance was smiling, her shoulders relaxed as she stood with her arms around another woman, shorter with long black hair that was pulled back into a simple braid and wearing a simple black dress and white apron. The other woman was smiling as well, her hand on her shoulder, fingers entwined with Constance’s as she looked up into Constance's face.

“Who is that?” Daichi said in a hushed voice.

Suga didn’t answer, taking a step toward the painting, trying to get a closer look when something rustled under his feet. He paused, pointing the flashlight down to illuminate the carpet of paper scattered across the floor.

Next to him, Daichi crouched down and picked up one of the sheets, staring at the sketchy portrait of the woman in the painting. “Who is this?”

Suga frowned over his shoulder. “Could it be Hanna? The maid? Her clothes look like a maid’s uniform.”

Swinging his light around again Suga took in the rest of the room. It was cluttered with paintings and supplies, all featuring the same women. Sometimes with Constance, sometimes alone, always smiling. Stepping forward, Suga picked his way around the easels, not sure what he was looking for. A soft sound startled him, and he spun back toward Daichi, who was still peering at the drawings on the floor. “Was that you?”

Daichi looked up with a frown. “Was what me?”

Before he could answer, the noise came again, a choked sob, as if someone was struggling not to be heard.

It wasn’t Daichi, which should have been terrifying, but the sound was so obviously distressed Suga couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. He turned slowly, listening for the noise again as his light played across the studio.

A sudden movement in a shadowed corner, the tip of a shoe being hurriedly withdrawn from the beam. Behind Suga, Daichi sucked a breath in, loud in the silence as they watched the corner.

Suga took a step forward, holding his breath as he tried to peer behind the wardrobe. Daichi grabbed his arm and hissed, “Wait, let me go first.”

“What, why?”

“It might be dangerous.”

Suga scowled. “What, you think I can’t handle it?”

Daichi narrowed his eyes, adjusting his grip on Suga’s elbow, and Suga lost track of his anger for a second as he noticed just how big Daichi’s palms were. “No, I just want to keep you safe.”

Suga hoped the darkness was enough to hide his blush. “That’s- um- How about we look at the same time?”

After a moment, Daichi sighed and nodded. Carefully, they shuffled forward and Suga shone his light around the wardrobe and into the corner.

The thing about ghost hunting is there’s a lot of nothing, even if you know something’s there. A lot of noises, twitching lights, and half-formed figures in the corner of your eye. That had been Suga’s life up until now, celebrating vague shadows on camera and soft background noises, insubstantial and easy to dismiss for skeptics. Even after the horrifying encounters with Constance, he still expected to see nothing but a vaguely flickering shadow as he peered behind the wardrobe.

Instead, he saw a woman, with long black hair and big brown eyes, lines at the corner indicating she was the kind of person who laughed a lot, even if at the moment she was hugging her knees to her chest and shaking with silent tears.

She was so real, so solid, Suga thought she must be another explorer, trapped here by the same force that had driven Suga and Daichi. But the bullet hole in her chest was hard to ignore. The stain was still wet and caught the light with a dull sheen. Suga swallowed.

They only stared at each other for a moment, Daichi’s arm protectively in front of Suga as he stared at the ghost with wide eyes.

Suga wasn’t sure what to expect, but as time wore on it became apparent that the woman wasn’t going to speak, so Suga smiled and said “Hello! What’s your name?”

Daichi started badly and started to hiss “What are you-“ when the woman answered.

Her voice was tremulous and, unlike her life-like appearance, seemed to echo strangely, as if it was coming to them through a long series of pipes. “Hanna.”

Ah. “Hanna Kozlov?” Suga asked, and she nodded.

The maid. But why was she still here? Was Constance’s spirit keeping her here, or was it something else?

Daichi sucked in a breath. “Hanna Ko…”

Suga glanced at him, but Daichi’s expression was hard to understand in the fading light. Suga turned back to the ghostly woman.

“Hello, Ms. Kozlov. We aren’t here to hurt you, but we are kind of curious about why you’re… here?”

She blinked as if Suga’s words were also hard for her to understand. After a minute she spoke. “There’s a man… a man with a gun. He- he-“ She clutched the front of her dress, “He shot me. I tried to hide, but it was… oh, Connie. Where is Connie?” Her voice rose in pitch with obvious fear as she shimmered, briefly, like a camera going out of focus for a moment.

Suga glanced at Daichi. A man with a gun? That meant Constance wasn’t the murderer. “Did- you know this man?”

Hanna’s form wavered again, and Suga backtracked, “Or not! Don’t worry about it!”

He exchanged a panicked glance with Daichi, who continued. “Are you asking about Constance? Constance Pelton?”

Hanna nodded, form settling. “Yes-we were supposed to meet, but when I left my room he was standing in the hall and- and-“

“OK, it’s fine! You can stop there!”

“Do you want to see Constance again?” Daichi asked, and Suga tried to shush him.

“What are you doing?”

Before Daichi could answer Hanna leaned forward, her eyes wide. “She’s here? Is she safe? He didn’t find her?”

“Um, one sec.” Suga yanked Daichi back. “We can’t let them meet! Are you kidding? Constance would eat her alive!”

“I’m not so sure.” Daichi knelt and picked up one of the papers from the floor, holding it out to Suga. “You said Constance was an artist, right?”

“She was…” Suga answered, taking the drawing. It was Hanna, in her night clothes, feet drawn up as she hugged her knees and smiled at whoever was drawing.

“She must have drawn these, and if so, I think they were in love. Maybe if we, you know, reunite them they can move on.” He shrugged helplessly.

Suga frowned at the drawing again. “So now you’re the ghost expert, huh?” But he had to admit there was something there. The warmth of the pictures, all of them, was palpable. And if Hanna had been shot by a man (the constable?) then maybe that was why Constance was so mad. Or so committed to keeping everyone away.

Finally, Suga sighed. “OK, let’s give it a shot.” He turned back to Hanna, who had gotten to her feet and was now inching out of the gap between the wall with a hopeful expression on her face. “We can take you to Constance. I think she’s… waiting for you.”

Hanna smiled, warm and wide as she stepped out of the corner. She shifted, suddenly off-balance and Suga put a hand out automatically to steady her, forgetting briefly what she was.

She took the hand and it was… Warm. And solid. It could have been Daichi’s hand, or Noya’s, it was so real. He stood for a second then shook himself, tightening his grip and gently leading her toward the studio door.

She hesitated as they reached the door and said “Is- are you sure it’s safe? That the man is gone?”

Suga and Daichi exchanged a look, then Daichi cleared his throat. “Er- yes. We’re sure. It’s been a while, after all.”

He pushed the door open, stepping out into the hallway to hold the door for Suga.

It was empty, and Suga wasn’t sure if he was relieved or annoyed. Now that they needed her, she had run off.

“This way.” He gently pulled Hanna down the corridor in the direction he had last seen Constance, but they had hardly taken a step before a voice echoed behind them. “Hanna?”

“Connie!” Hanna’s hand didn’t slide out of Suga’s, but through, leaving the places she had touched tingling with pins and needles as she ran down the hall toward where Constance had appeared.

There were no spooky lights or dramatic wind this time. Only Constance, feet on the floor and dress hanging limply as she held out her arms for Hanna. They collided, and Constance gathered Hanna close, pressing her face into Hanna’s hair with a soft sigh. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I was so frightened, I hid for so long and-“

“No, darling,” Constance gently pressed a finger to Hanna’s lips. “He came here because of me. I brought this on you. The least I could do was wait until you were ready. To keep you safe.”

Something bright burned in between them, growing in intensity until it burst out, forcing Daichi and Suga to cover their eyes. When he blinked away the stars the corridor was empty, and a window let in moonlight, lifting the oppressive darkness that had been present for so long.

“Yes!” Suga grabbed Daichi and spun him around. “We did it! We did- Ah!”

His foot caught on a mangled section of carpet and he tripped, dragging Daichi down on top of him.

He almost banged his head against the floor, but at the last second, Daichi got his arm around Suga’s neck and cushioned his head as they both hit the floor.

They were so close, Daichi’s forearm resting against the floor as he propped himself up, his face only inches above Suga’s, their legs intertwined as they stared into each other’s eyes, soft moonlight casting the scene in an ethereal glow glow.

“So, it’s your turn to be on top, huh?” 

Daichi blushed but didn’t pull back. “You don’t seem to mind.”

Suga grinned, carefully pushing himself up to rest on his elbow, bringing their faces only inches apart. He licked his lips, and Daichi’s eye’s lowered to his mouth.

“You know, I feel like we should celebrate.” Daichi’s voice was low, kind of gruff and Suga shivered.

Slowly, he leaned forward, testing the waters. “Yeah, I mean, we did just reunite two long-lost lovers. It seems appropriate.”

Daichi closed the gap, pressing his lips to Suga’s, gently at first but then deeper as he pushed Suga back down onto the floor, his hand carding through Suga’s hair and cupping his cheek.

Suga moaned, running his hand down Daichi’s side, pushing under his jacket and shirt to trace the top of his belt, and-

“Suga-san! There you are! We’ve been— Oh! Sorry! We’ll come back!”

Suga and Daichi started apart, looking up the hall to see a bright red Hinata, backing away quickly while Kageyama stood behind him looking scandalized.

“Er- no, don’t bother.” Daichi pushed himself to his feet, then held out a hand for Suga, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, resisting the urge to tell Hinata to get lost for another hour.

“Oh- um-“ Hinata bounced nervously on his heels, face still almost as red as his hair. “We were looking for you.”

Suga shook himself. “Yeah, I bet. Look, we should get back to the car. I think we need to call it a night, and- Oh fuck! Noya!” He had forgotten about the basement door. “We need to find a way to-“

“Isn’t that them?” Kageyama was pointing out the window, where Suga saw two figures stumbling out of the woods into the parking lot. Even from this distance, Noya was unmistakable, and the lurching figure behind him did resemble Daichi’s cameraman.

“Oh, thank god.” The relief was palpable. They were alright. And based on the window’s angle they were only a few hallways from the entrance.

Hinata darted ahead, Kageyama running after him as Suga and Daichi followed at a more sedate pace. When he finally stepped out into the cool night air, Suga heaved a sigh of relief. Hinata had already bounded out into the courtyard and was talking with Noya, gesturing wildly.

“Hey, um,” Suga turned around to find Daichi standing on the steps next to him, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared out at the parking lot, “they say that relationships built on shared trauma never work.” Suga’s heart barely had time to crash before Daichi continued, “So I was hoping I could take out for a nice, non-traumatic coffee sometime. If you want.”

His cheeks were dark, even in the pale moonlight. Suga grinned. “You’re underestimating my ability to make coffee traumatic.”

Daichi grinned ruefully. “Maybe. But I think it would be worth it.”

It was Suga’s turn to blush, and he smiled widely at Daichi. “Yeah, OK, then. I’d like that.”

There was a pause, and Suga wanted to continue, but he was interrupted by a squawk from the parking lot as Hinata reacted to something Noya said. Suga sighed. “I’ve got to get them home, but, here,” he fumbled a small notepad out of his pocket, quickly scribbling his number down and tearing the page out to press into Daichi’s hand. “Call me?”

“Yeah,” Daichi grinned back. “I will.”

As he drove home, Noya and Hinata snoring in the back seat, Suga found he couldn’t stop smiling.