in love. because that's what they are. because that's what they do and how they feel and wow. life must've been shit to him this whole time just so he can appreciate how good he's got it. that must be it. that all of that made this, made sam possible. 

"mmm, so i'm assuming you left out the fact that i was a man-whore." he feels kind of...bad, actually, to know that he's sam's everything pretty much, while knox carries around a hundred other little loves in his head. that there are histories he can't forget, memories he can't rewrite, he wouldn't want to rewrite. 

they're vastly different, the pair of them, and this realization, as unsurprising as it is, scares him. he tightens his arm and on his next step, moves closer to him. 

"okay, love. quick bite to eat, the sun'll set, and i hope you're ready to get spooked."

samuel carter

☉

the tightening of knox's arm on his own doesn't really bother sam. he doesn't think twice about it. one, he's got a hoodie on so it barely registers and two, knox is always pulling and squeezing and touching to show that he's being affectionate so sam's just used to the attentions by now.

they used to surprise him. he used to try and figure them out. now he just accepts them as knox's way of thinking about him.

"it wouldn't bother her. she's best friends with a stripper who's been married four times to various people. her name's robin, her stage name is rockin' robin."

why that mattered? it didn't, sam is just sort of talking so he doesn't think too much on the little hints knox is dropping. he wants to be surprised.

"did i ever tell you my mother was a stripper at one point?"

knox prescott

well, that certainly explains why sam simply doesn't give a fuck about what people think of him. he wonders if his mother's the same way - dry humor from her shell to her core and not a whole lot of warmth coming from the right places. knox had only needed to know where to look. 

"uh, no, but that's fucking amazing." he almost asks what her stripper name was, but thinks better of it. sam had gotten grossed out the last time knox had joked about his mother 'doing it' so maybe he'd let that go, save the teasing for a day that isn't sam's birthday. 

their chatter goes on intermittently, between the quick bite at lunch and the final trek over to where knox has promised lay their treasure. there aren't a whole lot of people (he'd taken care to stay away from the more touristy ones), but the few that are leaving are white-faced and shaking. 

"so the romantic part is you get to hold me while i completely fall apart," he jokes. 

samuel carter

☉

the day was already at the top of the list of favorite days to date for sam. when he met knox, and their first night together under the stars, was definitely in the top three. maybe this was too.

knox just, taking up all his myspace top five slots sigh.

sam noted the pale expressions of horror that exited the building along with knox giving jest about falling apart and it being romantic. to sam, it was. he loved being the stronger one. the one to hold knox up. to keep knox level. to keep him grounded. made sam feel important, made knox feel loved. what they needed.

"oh, it's a haunted house." and then sam smiled. that sort of smile that anime fans give when they find out a new season's out on netflix, y'know?

"is there a theme or is it just general terror?"

he was already nearly running to the entrance.

knox prescott

he likes it! he'd gone out on a limb on this one, unsure just how much the boy plagues with night terrors really wants to bring his monsters into the waking world. but it's go big or go home with knox and it looks like it's the former with the way sam's tugging at his arm and almost skipping to the entrance. 

"err, it's not so much a house actually. like a haunted trail or some shit. they use ghost-types." he shudders. "wanted something specifically not claustrophobic. turns out that's their schtick."

something about how the empty, open expanse is just as terrifying as being stuck in a box. he doesn't know how scary it's supposed to be. 

samuel carter

☉

"that sounds relaxing." he's a little crazy for saying it but he knows that. he also knows that knox knows that. open expanses could overwhelm some, namely expanses that had such thick fog! oh, the ghost types could have a field day and sam couldn't wait to see what they could come up with.

"i've lived the horrors that scare me and i've come out on top of them. this, as a little bit of extra fun? knowing it's not real is what makes it all the better a time."

sure, that makes sense to sam anyway. he is sure to take knox's hand, threading their fingers together and holding it firmly.

"i won't let anything hurt you." he promises. "and you can scream and shout at me, or even teleport out if it gets to be too much."

knox prescott

that sounds relax. well, it's official - his boyfriend's insane. but knox already knew that. and whatever terrors await them on the other end, at least knox'll have sam to lean on. because it's not going to end up being too much. and he's not going to teleport sam out and leave him. not when they're supposed to spend his birthday together. 

so he quashes whatever anxiety he's feeling and puts on a brave face - which, for knox, is a know-it-all smirk and a flirtatious wink. 

"don't worry, love. i'll be happy as a clam."

when they approach, there's only a single person standing beside a stone archway. perhaps person isn't the right word. it's some sort of being, towering nine feet tall, neck twisted, covered in a tattered cowl that shifts and seethes about itself. almost like living mist. 

knox's flesh prickles and it's the tell-tale sign that ghost-types are the cause of it.

(oh, the wonders, the mirages they can pull from themselves - as simple as cloaking their human master in a terrifying visage like the reaper himself.)

knox shows his ticket and the figure sweeps open an arm. fog curls from the gateway. knox's fingers tighten against sam's arm and he offers a pitiful attempt at a brave smile. 

samuel carter

☉

the mist and fog, the seething, the twisting, it has sam intrigued. the imagination is surely not lacking with this trainer or with the ghost type of which they own which gives this illusion. he wonders, for a moment, which one, before moving into the archway.

the tightened grip along his arm has sam looking to knox and that ... what kind of smile was that? maybe brave? sam wasn't sure, but he did arch his brows in response.

"happy as a clam?" he moved a hand around knox's waist. "more like tense as a clam. none of it's real, that's what you have to anchor yourself in. and as long as they don't touch us, everything will be fine."

was that a threat? probably. yep. it was.

knox prescott

none of it's real. but it's the not-real things that terrify him. it's the things that hang in the future, not yet tangible. it's the shadows that linger behind his shoulders, ever-watchful, threatening recompense for all of the mistakes he's made and will yet make. 

sam's arm around his waist, though, is a comfort. he shrugs into him and slaps that smile on his face again. because this was, after all, his idea, and he's going to stick it through for his boyfriend. 

so into the mist they go. it coils around his ankles at first, around sam's, until slowly it wraps around them. and it feels like a blanket, almost - the pressure it puts on his shoulders is just as unsettling as the eerie whiteness around them. 

in the distance, he makes out a figure. his fingers tighten around sam.  

samuel carter

☉

he is tempted, in all ways, to just tell knox that they can leave. after all, he lives in a graveyard and the ghost pokémon there are often the sort of miscreants that often cook up silly things like haunted houses and a good scare for a few laughs.

i.e. alecto...

with a small smile forming, he decides to try something... slightly sinister, but he had a feeling knox will appreciate it. he fishes out astrea's capsule and then hands it over to knox with a fond smile.

"she'll keep you safe."

sam encourages, moving his eyes to the figure that looks a bit like something out of a horror movie. like a half dead skeleton from the crypt with a reaper's scythe. it doesn't match any lore sam was familiar with, so he just furrows his brows in mild disappointment and tilts his head.

"i wonder if that's from a movie i haven't seen yet."

knox prescott

the place doesn't have five stars for nothing. they need only wander in the mists for a short time before the ghostly beings dissect what they need - nightmares and aches and the fears that drive their victims to near insanity. because monsters under the bed and toothy grins in the darkness aren't what sam carter and knox prescott truly fear. 

so the ghastly and the gengar and the litwick all around them make their move. knox goes rigid. fingers release the umbreon held within the ball and her teeth manage to grasp his hoodie as he's sucked into the ground, into the waiting shadows. 

he disappears, reemerging only a few clicks away, but it's an impossible distance in the thick of the mists. he calls out hoarsely for sam, but the apparition before him makes him choke.

samuel carter

☉

within an instant knox is gone from him. it causes sam's own body to tense, completely on guard. the ghosts and ghouls around him, they're play a familiar trick of illusions. it has his mind wandering to a few different solutions, but they all stop short when he sees a familiar frame, maimed.

it's not real, knox is fine.

he knows if he doesn't scream bloody murder, then the ghosts will only try harder to amp up their illusions. they're trained to scare people, that's the only reason they're bred-- so sam tells himself.

"alecto," his voice is timid as he is released from his ball, the familiar smell of his evolution line's gas causes him to sniff the air like an addict and shudder like he's gotten a fix. "hyber beam into the sky."

without much thought, the gengar waddles a bit away from sam and plops onto the ground. his giant maw opens, a collection of energies that won't affect any of the ghost types at work around them shoots into the sky.

it clears the fog enough he can see those familiar blue hues of knox's. he runs over and immediately put his hands on knox's shoulders.

"you okay?" he's calm. it's supposed to be fun, a hoax, but being separated from knox? that wasn't fun at all.

astrea approaches the gengar as his beam dissipates away. she gives a trill within her throat which causes alecto to close his mouth and look at her curiously. she trots over to sam and knox, ears flattened a bit, asking for apology on her failure as the two are close and together again, all while alecto flops over like a pancake and tumbles forward into a sitting position, rubbing his fat ghostly belly like a dork.

knox prescott

spindly fingers around his neck and it's merrick standing above him, his father with a grin too wide, teeth too sharp. mouth ripping at the edges, teeth growing longer, wider, pressing against knox's throat, his scalp. the sound of bones crunching. a snap. a scream off to his right as his sister falls like a sack of bricks. 

and the beeping of a machine telling him he's still alive. that it's a miracle he's such a fuck-up. 

and ollie's standing by him, watching him get devoured, telling him 'you dumb schmuck' and turning his back and crying and walking away and never coming back, never coming back, never coming back from any of this. 

the mist is drawn away all too suddenly. aggravated hisses whisper by him as the flooding of not-quite-real memories and possibilities scatter, fleeing from the explosive beam to knox's left. 

other people are shaken from their stupors and knox catches glimpses of white faces, of horror shrouding back over them as the mist quickly creeps back. 

but before it can reach him too, sam is there again. and the ghosts don't seem to know what to do with sam. so in his embrace, he's safe. 

he forgives astrea because if it's anyone's fault, it's his own. he shudders weakly. 

"yeah, uh, probably should have done some therapy or some shit before coming out here. are you even scared at all?"

samuel carter

☉