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Synonymous with clockwork, the time he was dreading arrived. It was the end of the day, and the topics of conversation had petered out. So, the group settled down for bed.
Giving a fragile wave to his girlfriend, Kimberly, Antoine shuffled his way to the small side room he staked out with shame burning brightly in his gut.
It was a cramped little thing in the far corner of their current safehouse. Had it been a real location and not some twisted amalgamation of over-the-top horror clichés he would give a negative star rating. Health commissioners the world round would have a heart attack at the sight.
The whole bedroom was sealed up by a heavy door equipped with a rattly door knob that took a few tries to turn. Once opened, it creaked loudly, like a moaning ghost.
Inside, mold and unimaginative red splotches stained the peeling tan striped wallpaper. Skittering noises of something too big to be a rat rattled up from under the splintered floorboards. On the wall was a grimy window perched in front of a tree branch suspiciously shaped like a scraggly hand that tapped the glass with every gust of wind . Coincidentally it also doubled as the only real light source for the bedroom considering the single fluorescent bulb hanging from a string on the ceiling flickered more than a nightclub dance floor.
However, it wouldn't be the case for long. That light was disappearing quickly as the last slivers of sunlight poked over the horizon and the darkest creatures of the night came out to play.
It was an abysmal place to spend a single second in much less sleep, actually one of the worst rooms in the house by a wide margin. Anybody with self respect would’ve crashed on the odd smelling carpet in the living room before stepping foot in here, but there was one thing that made it worth braving for him: the thick walls tailored to muffling any terrified screams its occupant may make as they fell victim to the building's corresponding omen.
Normally, in the town of horrors that was Carousel, such blatant design would inspire foreboding, but here in their designated safehouse, free of murderous omens, it served a modicum of comfort.
It meant no one would hear his screams.
For Antoine, it wasn't the monsters that scared him. Hadn't been for a long, long, long time.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring absently at the wall before realizing what he was doing.
God, it was going to be a bad night. He could feel it coming.
Apathy muted the growing panic like a blanket, but he would have preferred experiencing a full-blown panic attack to the dull nothing that had overtaken him for so long. He screwed his eyes shut as if he could stave off the visions with willpower, but the forest danced beneath his eyelids. That endless expanse of green one unlucky circumstance saw him trapped in, alone–for years.
His hands began to tremble fiercely, and he brought one to clutch the wrist of the other, hoping to stabilize the shaking. It didn't help. He was sitting but he could swear he was walking, endlessly, swaying, forever, trees, trees, trees–
Then there was a solid knock on the door, not that of a monster promising to bathe in his blood, but of a guardian angel bringing salvation.
“Ca-” his voice cracked but he quickly coughed to clear it, “Come in!”
Riley tentatively opened the door, not even flinching as the hinges shrieked inches from his ear. The guy was composed like that, able to take everything this crummy town threw at him in stride, unlike Antoine, still bemoaning a storyline from ages ago.
In the whimsical land of Carousel, a sentient, extra dimensional town that forced its occupants into playing the role of characters in horror movies, nothing was ever subtle, yet the place delighted in finding new ways to surprise its victims. And Antoine found himself surprised in the worst ways.
It was months ago, during what was pitched to them as an easy, beginner-friendly storyline about a group of kids telling scary stories around a campfire.
Beginner? Friendly? There was no such thing.
One of the three stories told over that campfire he couldn't remember was about a creepy forest full of shapeshifters. Simple stuff really: unsuspecting group of teens walk in, unsuspecting group of teens walk out sans one imposter, leaving the real member trapped to walk the forest forever... until they could replace themselves with another.
So spooky, so scary. So… harmless.
Or it should have been.
The thing about Carousel was that if the group at large survived through a storyline, any deaths that took place in it were reverted. One moment you were dead, the next you were fine. Any injury from a broken neck to a scraped knee vanished like smoke when you got the all clear message, miraculously healed by movie magic. Even those left without a corpse found themselves reformed good as new.
Those were the rules.
Except the rules apparently didn't cover fates worse than death.
During the run-through their team… messed up somehow, accessed some secret part of the storyline they didn't have the intention of finding. A secret hidden in that story alone that caused him… that caused him–
It was supposed to be easy. Appease Carousel’s call for blood and he would be back with the others between one blink and the next.
It took fucking years. He wasn't trapped in that story the way one would read an unfortunate event on an obituary, but a fully lived experience wandering aimlessly in those eternal woods. Boredom and apathy and loneliness corrupting his mind until he became a shuffling husk because the only other option was insanity. Not to say he wasn't insane by the end.
They'd all seen their fair share of trauma during their stay, and it all wore away at them, yet Antoine was the only guy weak enough to let it affect his performance. Everyone could double down when necessary, even Kimberly who hadn't so much as gotten into a heated argument before coming here, but he was the only guy who froze up, trapped in memories of the–
Of the–
His grip turned white-knuckled trying to suppress the shaking. C'mon Antoine, not in front of Riley. Letting his problems show to anyone in the group was mortifying, but Riley was their leader. He was the guy who always had it under control, came up with the plans, had the smarts to save their skin over and over.
Antoine did his fair share, don't get him wrong, but Riley did more than anybody, running himself ragged on each storyline to see them through. And here he was, acting as a parasite on his friend every night, robbing him of a good sleep because he couldn't control his night terrors.
Was there anything more pathetic than that? They fought ghosts, zombies, and aliens on a regular basis, but bad dreams were what did him in.
Riley entered and shut the door behind him then pulled out a glimmering purple slip trimmed in gold from the pocket of his hoodie.
Antoine knew what it was at a glance, it was the reason he came after all.
Out Like A Light.
In a manner of speaking Antoine was sick, and this was the only medicine he could be prescribed. In combination with his You Were Having A Nightmare… trope, Out Like A Light allowed him to fall asleep and artificially suppress the mental strain of his ordeal through standard Carousel magic.
Basically, You Were Having A Nightmare… allowed him to temporarily beat off trauma as long as he fell asleep and pretended the emotionally scarring events were a mere nightmare upon waking; the issue raised became that on nights he needed it most, dozing off was near impossible. That was where Out Like A Light came in, giving him the convenient ability to instantly fall asleep on any surface.
The problem, aside from him needing tropes at all to handle his mental issues, was that the later trope wasn't his. Maybe it wouldn't make much sense to an outsider who had never lived through the twisted game, but here in Carousel you just didn't take another person's trope. Sure, the magic tickets got shuffled around a party or traded off, but the way they were doing it? Borrowing it for a night and returning it in the morning?
You just didn't do that. It was a serious breach of etiquette, even for a quality-of-life trope like Out Like A Light which served no function in the average storyline. It was one of the best ways Antoine could think of inflaming interparty tensions, and the burden was solely on him.
Riley held the trope ticket--the physical manifestation of the otherworldly ability--out expectantly, and Antoine reached to take it as he did every night, but before his fingers could grasp the edge they stopped. He wanted to take it, but he suddenly couldn't.
“Riley, is this… really okay?”
Riley tilted his head, making his fluffy black locks of hair slightly sway. “I told you before, it's alright. You need this more than anyone. Getting a good night's rest is important, especially for our Athlete. I'll manage.”
It wasn't the first time he asked, and that was where he always dropped it. He didn't know why this time was different, but it was. The shame bubbling in him must have finally overflowed.
“Could we…” Antoine spoke, lips very dry but unwilling to wet them. “Maybe it's stupid, but I've been thinking of trying something else.”
“An alternative?” Riley raised an eyebrow and Antoine felt stupid for even suggesting the growing thought, but it was too late to put it back.
“Yeah, well, I noticed even when I use your trope, I have a better time sleeping near Kim.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I was wondering if… we could try sleeping here for a night to see if I can handle it by myself.”
“M-me?” The suggestion seemed to fluster Riley. Antoine couldn't blame him; he pitched it out of left field so to speak.
“It's just- I- didn't want to burden her if it turned out I was overestimating myself. She already handles me on the tough nights, and our last storyline was hard on her. I asked you because, well… you're my best friend and with your trope you wouldn't wake up if I started screaming so…” he trailed off, feeling small.
Riley was silent.
It was a terrible idea, wasn't it? “Sorry! Forget it. I know it's weird, kinda stupid any–”
“No no,” Riley rushed to stop him. “It's fine. I was surprised, but it's not weird. If you think this would work for you, I'd be happy to help testbed the…” his face scrunched up. “I didn't mean to make that pun.”
It wasn't that funny, but Antoine chuckled nonetheless, feeling the pervasive shame flutter away in his stomach, dispersing into something warm he didn't dare name. “You really are a Film Buff. Got a talent for wordplay.”
Riley stuffed his hands in his hoodie pockets and turned away. “Definitely wouldn't say that. Don't come looking to me for wisdom or you'll be sorely disappointed.”
Antoine let a smile grace his lips, but he sobered up. “…Thanks, Riley. If you want to take the bed, I'll go scrounge some blankets and make a–” he made to get up, but Riley rushed to push him back down.
“Hey, no– it's… fine.” At the very end of his movement, Riley seemed to realize what he’d done and hastily drew back like Antoine's shoulders were hot stovetops. He twiddled his singed fingers on the edges of his jacket as he shifted awkwardly. “I mean, I don't mind sleeping on the bed–together. You don't have to… crash on the floor.”
“Are you sure?” Antoine mumbled self-consciously. “This bed would be pretty tight with two, and I wouldn't want to kick you off accidently. I'm the one asking you for this, you should be comfortable.”
Antoine thought he would literally, actually die if his reflexive thrashing hurt Riley. He would jump out the window.
“I've stared down monsters beyond mortal kin, the prospect of sleep fighting doesn't deter me,” Riley jokingly puffed his chest.
That was a very nice way of phrasing a nightmare induced trauma response, and Antoine was more grateful than he was prepared to admit that Riley took the warning in stride.
His fists clenched the sheets. “I… well alright then, as long as you're willing to take the risk.”
“If I let you sleep on this floor, you'd face bigger problems than nightmares.”
Right on cue, a board rattled like there was something under it trying to emerge. Riley smartly stepped around it on his way to the other side of the bed.
Reaching in all his pockets, Riley pulled out a few of the knick-knacks he had gathered along their journey such as his Walkman and its assorted cassettes and placed them on the bed's accompanying nightstand.
Following that, Riley unzipped his hoodie and draped it over the items. Out of everywhere in the room it was probably the best place to lay his clothes. Unlike everything else, the nightstand was completely spotless, and just like everything else, extremely suspicious, diverging from the dilapidated guest room aesthetic to spotlight as an expertly crafted piece of furniture made from fine dark wood with expensive ivory lining.
Personally, he’d wager it was some sort of occult ritual object, but it served to serve the dual purpose of clothes rack quite nicely when whatever demon was bound inside it couldn't jump out at them.
Underneath Riley's hoodie was a black t-shirt with stylized blood splatters on the front advertising some niche horror flick Antoine had never heard of. It would be the perfect shirt for Riley if the dark fabric didn't highlight his pale arms. It was a rare thing for that jacket to come off or for Riley to see sunlight before they came to Carousel. After arriving, their bodies continually reverted in time to the state they entered it, meaning his skin would never get the chance to darken.
Something else locked in was their general physiques which Antoine considered one of the vanishingly few perks of the town at first, but as the tense days wore on, it showed itself to be yet another deprivation. He missed being able to jog around town without running into all manner of dangers. He missed being able to lift weights without worrying about a serial killer bludgeoning him with one from behind.
He wished he could work out with Riley to bulk up his thin arms and noodle legs.
It was something that increasingly snagged on his subconscious. Carousel worked on video game stats and narrative stakes to determine the outcome of physical confrontations, so looks were quite often deceiving, with dainty little girls registering as more dangerous in a fight than towering behemoths. Even still, worry never failed to lance through his stomach each instance he saw Riley put himself in danger. Circumstances always seemed to throw him into a chase with the bad guy, or an out and out fist fight with the central supernatural horror.
Even when Riley's plan went perfectly, Antoine's hands twitched at the urge to plop him on the sidelines and do all the heavy lifting himself. Sadly, Carousel never saw fit to give him a trope that let him occupy two places at once.
And… and… Antoine realized how long he'd been staring at Riley's arms.
Enough for Riley to have taken off his shoes and settled under the covers with enough left over to level him an odd look.
Antoine jerked away, face burning, and quickly moved to remove his own shoes.
“Are you okay?” The question sunk into his back like a dagger.
“Yeah! Just… thinking.”
He didn't bother straightening his shoes, just let them fall haphazardly to the floor the second he removed them, making the animal under the board's hiss. He didn't even remove his socks before settling under the covers despite it being a little too hot for comfort with them on.
Usually, back home at least, Antoine would also sleep without his shirt, but there was no way in hell (which he suspected they would visit sooner or later) he was doing that with Riley curled next to him. His broad, athletic shoulders already made his regular clothes stretch a little too much.
Due to his haste to get things over with, he almost headbutted Riley when he spun around to face him. The bed was so small there were only inches between their noses.
They both flinched back.
“Whoa! Sorry!” Antoine said, heart beating fast because of their near… miss.
Yep, that was what made him so nervous, definitely not how close Riley had been too…
He wasn't finishing that thought because it obviously wasn't that. Very.
“Weren't kidding about the size,” a startled look passed over Riley’s face. He followed this by licking his lips, and Antoine had to force himself to look away from them into his soft, brown eyes… and then look even further up to his hairline.
What was wrong with him today!?
“Yeah,” he managed to say casually through covertly grinding teeth. “Sure you don't want it all to yourself?”
“I'm…” Riley found something really interesting on the pillow between words, “fine. This is fine.”
By now the available window light had plummeted, so Antoine figured he was flattering himself when he supposedly saw red on Riley's cheeks. He just felt bad he was forcing Riley into this.
Antoine took a breath, resolving to never do this again after tonight. The objective had been to reduce his burden on the team, not force their most valuable member to humor him on a cramped mattress.
“Alright. Goodnight, Riley”
Riley nodded slightly. “Goodnight, Antoine. I hope you sleep better.”
“Will do.” Not likely.
Riley's eyes closed and from personal experience Antoine knew he instantly entered deep sleep from Out Like A Light. To the person who held the trope it was really as simple as willing it.
From here on out, he had to do things the old fashioned way.
Slowly, Antoine reversed around so he wasn't breathing on Riley's face all night. That would be weird. Riley already didn't want to be here. Not even that thing under the floorboards wanted to be in his presence, having gone abruptly silent with the setting of the sun. Out to hunt, maybe.
On this side of the bed, he only had a rickety door and musty wallpaper for companionship. As his eyes adjusted to the dark room, he willed himself to join Riley in sleep. His mind refused to quiet.
It rustled with the still wind.
In the chilling silence of the room, the sound grew all the louder. Like a plane that ran out of fuel, his thoughts were inexplicably dragged down to the one set of memories he couldn't handle. It was hard landing elsewhere, considering they took up ninety-nine percent of his time on Earth. It's why their gravity on him was so strong.
He grabbed the metaphorical handles in a death grip and yanked.
So eager was he to keep the forest out of mind, he willingly steered himself to the images of his friends.
Not Kimberly, Riley, and the other misfits he found himself surrounded by now, but the two that were gone.
Anna and Camden.
They came to Carousel as a group of five. Sure they met Bobby, his wife, and Dina at the entrance, but Carousel was originally supposed to be a fun outing with old friends.
Supposed. Supposed. Supposed.
Antoine supposed that was all he could do. Make wrong choices and be shocked when they blew up in his face.
He didn't know why his friends abided him as well as they did. It was his idea to come to this town. He was the one who pitched it, after the trip was recommended to him by what he thought was his brother.
All their suffering, on him and his big ideas. Now the original five were whittled down to three, the other two lost in a storyline they had to face alone after unfortunate circumstances saw them separated.
He yanked the handles again. For as bad as the forest was, it turned out he could bear this even less.
He tried to distract himself, he really did. Conjuring near–and actual–death misses to bleed off the approaching storm, but none of them had the weight needed to ground him. To stave off the sights resting behind his eyes.
It dragged him kicking and screaming. First the faint scent of woods. Then the sway of his muscles on their endless walk. The fervent wish for someone, anyone to break the monotony, to save him from the slow death of soul.
The visions returned, and he was back in the woodland trails he remembered better than his own home. Chittering animals, cracking branches, a cold breeze–
Just as he began to truly lose himself, Antoine's eyes regained focus, marred in confusion.
It… wasn't cold. It was hot. There was warmth at his back, not the kind generated from the exertion of his aimless wandering, or the blazing sun sending sweltering beams through the canopy of leaves.
It was… Riley.
Antoine bit back a sudden sob. He didn't know where it came from, but it bubbled up his throat to be locked away by clenched teeth. His friend was here. He wasn't alone. He wasn't there.
Antoine took a moment to steady his erratic breathing. Once he calmed, he carefully maneuvered himself to turn around, coming face to face with Riley.
Riley was slack in the faint moonlight, wandering the peaceful realm of dreams where death was faraway. Antoine wished Riley could stay there forever, the same way he wished he didn't need to sleep.
Something in him said staring at his unconscious friend this intensely was wrong, but he needed this. Needed to see him, know he was there. That he was safe, unlike Anna and Camden. That he was here, unlike the insecurities that told him he left.
“Thank you,” he whispered, voice scratchy. The only reason he dared speak his gratitude aloud was because he knew Out Like A Light would ensure nothing short of a detonating bomb would wake him. “I… I don't know what I– what we would have done without you here. Floundered… probably.” He rubbed his palm into his forehead, trying to banish the thoughts of all the ways he would've permanently died without the guy in front of him.
“When we lost Anna and Camden it was like the end of the world, but you… You took it in stride, didn't let it stop you or slow you down or anything. You were seriously amazing.” Heat rushed to his cheeks at the last proclamation. “I'm supposed to be the muscle, but I wish I had half the strength you do. You're lovely, Ri…”
He faltered, finally hearing himself. The silence stretched over the blood roaring in his ears. Instead of continuing, a groan of quiet despair escaped his lips.
He was such a fucking idiot. His eyelids screwed shut so hard lights burst under them. There had never been someone dumber than him!
Nothing was ever more predictable than this.
Why did he say that? He'd be beating himself up for this for all eternity.
As he talked, the one thing he hoped beyond hope wouldn’t happen did. Distant feelings of admiration finally solidified into something concrete. Something jittery and warm and electric and evil.
Except it was more than that! It wasn't a new feeling he directed at his supposed friend, it was dreadfully familiar.
Dear lord, he didn't fall in love, he was already in it!
When it happened he hadn't a clue, but it was a truth he could no longer shove aside, staring at Riley's angelic face. Denial he wrapped himself in for so long seemed so far away. Traversing a distance of miles in the microsecond he released its covering blanket. He'd never be able to cloak himself in them again.
From now on, poor, pitiful Antoine was stuck grappling with a new dismal fate. One where he buried his feelings deep down inside and never let them see the light of day. Someone as put together as Riley would never want someone as messily stitched together as Antoine, and even if by some miracle he did, he deserved more than being dragged into his downward spiral.
He already didn't know how Kimberly did it. How she stayed when he told her it would be best to cut her losses, but he knew he wouldn't get that lucky twice.
He was going to take this to his grave, which, knowing this town, would end up being quite literal.
He swallowed past the bone in his throat. “Just like me to fall for people so far out of my league.”
He sullenly opened his eyes to the dark room and his heart stopped. Ice crystals could have formed over his skin from how cold his blood ran.
Separated by inches, Riley was wide awake, staring straight into his soul.
Mortification plowed over him like a truck. He thought he'd rather stay in the forest than have this happen.
Riley spoke before he could, seeing as he was frozen in horror. Were they in a storyline, the cameras would have focused on his face, milking the shot for all it was worth in the seconds before the killer's knife slid in.
“I'm sorry,” Riley grimaced. “I tried–I thought– well…”
Antoine stayed still as if Riley wouldn’t be able to see him so long as he didn’t move.
“I didn't go to sleep,” Riley confessed a little hurriedly. “I was worried you would have another night terror, so I wanted to stay awake in case you needed me–I didn't–”
He might have had questions if his mind wasn't stuck looping on the fact that Riley heard everything.
“I didn't mean to hear you say that. I shouldn't have listened. That was terrible of me. Should have told you I hadn’t used my trope the second you started talking, but.” He paused, the words slipping from his normally eloquent grasp.
“Did you… mean that?”
Antoine expected disgust or at least disinterest to accompany the question, but even he could tell it was none of that. Riley looked… hopeful. Or had he actually fallen asleep and this was all a dream?
“Yeah.” Antoine wouldn't have realized it was him who said that were he not staring at Riley's closed mouth. “I did.”
Again an inescapable force settled in his skin and soul, a draw that left him powerless to resist, but a crucial difference between then and now was that he had no desire to.
It went beyond gravity or magnetism. It latched onto his muscles and pulled, leaning him forward slowly, giving Riley every chance to back out, to realize his mistake.
To his shock Riley met him halfway.
It was tentative, featherlight, but to Antoine their lips crashed together like colliding stars. The only thing to occupy his existence besides the electric buzz suffusing him from head to toe was the banging thought of why he never did this before.
Not even in a stuck together in a sadistic pocket dimension way, but prior to Carousel. Why did he wait so long to do this? They shared a year in high school for crying out loud! He could have had this so much sooner!
But it was like they said: the best time to do something was yesterday, the second best was right now.
Haloed by twilight, Riley disengaged, a heart-rending expression plaguing his beautiful face. “But what about Kimberly?”
What about her– oh. Ooooooh.
“Did we ever tell you about Rachel?”
“Who?”
“Doesn't matter, let's just say we're no strangers to having a third.”
Riley blushed crimson. “Rachel?” he squeaked.
Antoine couldn't resist kissing his forehead. Now that the initial barrier was broken he couldn't imagine not showering Riley with affection, he looked like he needed it. “Like I said, it doesn't matter. Didn't last more than a week.”
“Well that's reassuring,” Riley mumbled but the crooked smile he was trying to hide said he didn't care overly much.
“I didn't like her, and that wore away the glamour for Kim pretty fast. Trust me, that won't happen here.”
“Really? I can't imagine Kimberly being a fan of this development,” he looked down at the two of them.
“Are you kidding, Riley? Everybody wants you. You're a real catch.” And Antoine couldn't believe he was the one that reeled him in. Figured at least Isaac would have made a move by now.
“You're lying,” Riley dismissed easily and while the light tone made his heart swoop, the words nearly made it crash.
“I'm not following, Riley.” Already displaying the habits of being in a lasting relationship, he dashed some loose strands of hair from their face so he could better look at him. “What's there not to like here. You're the leader. I can't count the number of storyline we would have bit it on without you. You're cool under pressure, about as smart as Camden,” that earned a chuckle, “and always reliable.”
“I could say the same about you all. Storylines are group efforts, I don't think I contribute more than anyone else. If anything, I do less.”
Antoine pulled him closer. “You're humble too,” he said and left it at that. Let Kim talk some sense into him later, she was better at it than he was. His skillset involved giving a mean hug.
Of course, Riley had to be good at receiving one too because there was nothing he could be bad at. His body combined perfectly with his and his heart swelled with the added mass. A puzzle piece in his life he hadn't known was missing got slotted in.
He could stay here forever, and the thought didn't fill him with anxiety.
He wasn't alone.
Come morning, both occupants of the room were tangled together, exploring beautiful dreams of a united future.
A movie ticket with the words Out Like A Light emblazoned in gold script sat unused on a nearby nightstand.