Repost
Title: Come One, Come All (3/?)
Pairing: Keith/Mick
Rating: Pg-13
Word Count: 2, 335
Disclaimer: Fake:)
Note: Reposted with a different ending:)
Keith’s body jerked and he jolted up suddenly. How long had he been dozing? What time is it? The guitarist looked down at his watch and wrinkled his forehead. It had been nearly half an hour since Mick had left; where was he? The dark haired boy looked around and saw that Charlie, Bill, and Brian were gone as well. Sighing, Keith lifted his legs out of the pool, got up, and stretched before heading in. The silence confirmed that, indeed, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the building right now. Keith looked around, confused, for Mick before checking their room. He wasn’t in there either, but something on the bed caught the guitarists’ eye. Well, wherever Mick had gone off to, he’d found the cigarettes and notebook first.
He’d gotten himself a cigarette out of the carton before he realized he didn’t have a lighter. He looked in his bag and grudgingly put the cigarette back, willing to bet anything that a certain singer had taken it. Keith snatched up the notebook then and lay back, arranging himself against the pillows. The guitarist was flipping through the book, casually looking over some of the songs Mick had finished or half finished, when a shadow cast itself in the doorway. Keith glanced up briefly and snickered.
“There you are. What’d you do, forget what you came in here for?” he asked, holding up the packet of cigarettes.
When Keith didn’t get an answer, he raised his eyes to Mick again and drew in a quick breath. The light behind the singer hit him perfectly; his tawny hair seemed to glow around the edges, and his outline had a feathery, almost transparent look to it. But that wasn’t the only thing the guitarist noticed. Mick was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed loosely over his mid-section; his long legs were crossed so that one ankle crossed over the other, and his body was relaxed in a seductive, curvy pose. Keith’s stomach fluttered, but he went back to pretending to read the notebook and cleared his throat.
“Where ya been?” he asked, as nonchalant as possible.
“Just went exploring for a bit. Though I heard something upstairs,” Mick answered, voice smooth and silky.
“You went upstairs?” Keith responded, curious.
“Oh-I mean, just for a minute. I just peeked down the hall, there was nothing there,” he said, waving it away.
Keith nodded and looked back down. But the younger boy swallowed hard and licked his lips when Mick sauntered over and lightly ran his fingers up Keith’s leg. Still, Keith didn’t look up, wanting to play with Mick a little more.
This became nearly impossible, though, when he felt the singer rest his hands on both of his knees and slowly glide them up his thighs. Keith closed his eyes as his head fell back on the pillow, letting a soft groan escape his lips. Mick grinned and reached up to take the notebook from Keith’s hands. He carelessly dropped it on the floor and went back to a lusty-eyed Keith; his hands traveled over the boy’s hips, over his chest, and finally up to his shoulders. He was hovering completely over the guitarist now, and Keith could feel the older boy’s warm breath on his skin. Mick’s lips brushed over his friend’s neck, over his cheek, and then stopped, rosy mouth hovering over Keith’s.
“Mick…” the guitarist muttered huskily. After letting their breaths mingle for a moment longer, Keith decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned up pressed his lips to Mick’s plush ones. A muffled moan came from the singer, and Keith reached up and tangled his hands in the boy’s hair, pulling him down on top of him. As Mick’s movements became more heated, Keith rearranged his arms to wrap them around the singer’s waist. Keith grunted into the kiss; Mick was being especially…aggressive today. Not that the younger boy minded; it’s just that he also needed to breathe. “Mick-Mick, slow down,” Keith said breathlessly, breaking off the kiss that was borderline frantic.
“What’s the matter, love?” Mick almost sneered. “Can’t handle me?”
Keith raised his eyebrows and smirked a little. “Oh, aren’t we bold today. We’ll see who can handle who.”
Mick grinned wickedly then; but it didn’t seem like Mick’s normal, playful smile, and for some reason, it threw Keith off a little; however it only lasted a brief moment before the younger one scolded himself for being ridiculous and pulled Mick back down. He knew the routine, and the course their playfulness usually took, and now he flipped the singer over on his back. The guitarist was sort of hoping they could slow down a little now; he liked to take his time with his singer, to enjoy every inch of him, and draw out each second. He leaned down to kiss Mick, a little more gently, but the older boy had other plans. He kissed back harder and rolled his hips upwards against Keith’s, and slid his hands up the back of Keith’s shirt. The younger one cringed and gasped in surprise when he felt Mick’s nails dig and drag down his back.
“God, Mick,” Keith said through gritted teeth against the singer’s lips. There was something different about his lover this afternoon, something almost…primal.
“Fuck!” Keith jumped and abruptly pushed Mick back. He stared at the boy now, wide eyed and incredulous.
“Did-did you just bite me?!” the guitarist exclaimed, touching the side of his neck. He was used to a little roughness with Mick in bed, a little competitiveness. But he wasn’t used to whatever was up with his singer today. Mick blinked at him.
“Oh! I’m sorry, Keith-I guess I just got a little carried away, is all. Didn’t mean it.” He cast his eyes down sheepishly then and poked out his lower lip; Keith relaxed. Now, this seemed a little more like Mick. Moody and dramatic.
“No-it’s alright; you just caught me a little off guard,” he laughed, rubbing the place where Mick had bit down. Mick smiled, and he seemed fine now. His ocean blue eyes were bright as normal, and his smile was charming and sweet. Keith reached out and brushed Mick’s face with his fingers, and was about to lean in for another kiss when the hotel’s front door slammed.
“Keith! Mick!” It was Brian.
“In here.” The guitarist answered. Brian poked his head in the door.
“Oh, hey Mick; haven’t seen you all day, where ya been?”
Mick shrugged. “Around.”
“…Right. Well, we’re all meeting at that little café across the street for lunch if you want to come.”
“K,” Keith responded. We’re comin’.”
Brian nodded and left. Keith turned to Mick.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” Mick hopped up and Keith lazily followed.
“Oh! Hey, what’d you do with my damn lighter?” Keith remembered to ask, cutting his eyes at the singer as they walked out the door. Mick seemed flustered for a minute.
“I-don’t know. I ain’t got yer lighter,” the boy said.
“You didn’t see it when you got my smokes out of my bag earlier?”
“Nope.”
Keith sighed. “Aright, then; I’ll borrow one.”
As they were crossing the street, Keith glanced over at Mick. He had his hands in his pockets and seemed much more himself.
When they got to the café, they spotted the others in a large corner booth and went over.
“So,” Andrew started. “What’s everyone been up to today?”
“Been to a few of these little shops,” Bill said. “Nothin’ much to them.”
“Yeah, there’s not much to do here,” Charlie agreed. “I read for most of the morning. “Hung out by the pool.”
“Sounds more productive than me,” Brian grumbled. “I woke up, then fell asleep in that hammock out back a few hours later. Played with my guitar for a bit. He shrugged. That’s about it. Any progress with the bus?”
Andrew rubbed his eyes. “No. Jack’s gonna have to go up to that town a few miles up, see if they have what we need. He’s havin’ a real fit about us spendin’ the night here again, but I hear there’s a storm coming in. We can’t travel in that.”
“What’s his deal, anyway?” Keith asked. “Why even own a hotel if you’re not gonna keep it open?”
Keith noticed Mick beside him; the boy seemed to be listening intently.
Ian chimed in. “Well, I was talkin’ to Jack earlier about that. Turns out, this place, Willow Falls or whatever, used to be like, way bigger. But over the past forty years or so, Jack says so many buildings have been abandoned and knocked down, and so many people have moved, that it eventually turned into this. Oh, and you know that other town, a few miles down? He says that’s where the people who run these little shops live. They used to live here, when it was bigger, but they moved. Just didn’t want to give up their businesses. Apparently, they used to do well enough, but he says that it’s getting worse.
“But what about the hotel?” Charlie asked. “And why’d people leave?”
“Right, so this is where shit gets weird,” Ian said, and the others leaned in. “Jack told me back in like, 1862 or something, a family lived there. And-
“1864,” a quiet, somber voice softly corrected, and everyone looked.
It had come from Mick. He seemed to be in a daze for a second, and then looked up. “Sorry. I, uh, think it was 1864.”
Ian blinked. “Oh-ok, right then; so in 1864, before it was a hotel, a big family lived there-house had been in this family for generations or something. Anyway, I didn’t every little detail, but-well, they were…murdered.”
Everyone stiffened and just stared. Ian shifted in his chair, and Mick clenched his fist.
“Yeah, so one of the girls had cheated on her fiancé, and he went completely bonkers and started stalking her. And one night, he saw that the girl had snuck her new boyfriend in the mansion while everyone else was asleep, and the ex…well, went in with a knife. When he was done, he ran. Neighbors heard the commotion and went to see.”
It was quiet for a few minutes; then Keith spoke.
“How many people?”
“I think Jack said about seven. Bloody massacre; after that, it stayed empty for years. It’s a huge place, so eventually someone bought it, and made an inn out of it. Over the years, it just kept changing owners-apparently people were claiming some freaky supernatural stuff about the hotel. Jack said his parents bought it when he was a baby. I couldn’t get anything else out of him. He just said people gradually started moving away.”
“That’s messed up,” Bill stated, taking a sip of his tea.
“If you believe in that stuff,” Brian added.
“Well, we’ll hopefully be out of here soon, so no worries,” Andrew said. They all went about talking and laughing, but Keith noted a change in Mick’s demeanor. His jaw was tense and he’d had a faraway look in his eyes the whole story. He seemed to snap out of it when his food came, though, and engaged a little in the conversations. When they were done, everyone went off to entertain themselves again, and Keith loosely put an arm around Mick’s shoulders.
“You all right, mate?” he asked.
“Fine. Why?” Mick responded, giving Keith a reassuring smile. Keith was satisfied with this, and the two walked off down the street together to look for something to do.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………............................
Mick’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned. He then realized he was on the floor and slowly got up on unsteady feet. He felt dizzy, confused. What happened? Where was he? He looked around and had to squint, as his brain still hadn’t straightened itself out yet. Mick was in the same room, but…something was different. The room, it looked…brand new. The mirror was in a gold frame; The wooden floors weren’t barren; they were newly shined, and Mick could even smell the wood, faintly. There was a new, expensive looking rug on the floor; the bed had a beautifully decorated quilt and a big, fine canopy over it. The dressers and walls were freshly painted, there were decorations everywhere, and the window had curtains.
The window!
Mick stumbled over to it and peeked out. He didn’t understand; everything looked the same; there was their bus parked in front, the little shops across the street, and he could even see Keith-
No, Mick thought. It was Keith; but he was with…
Mick felt the color drain from his face, and he nearly fainted. The boy started to shake violently, and he rubbed his eyes.
“Hey!” he said, voice hoarse and quiet at first.
“HEY! GET AWAY FROM HIM! GET AWAY! KEITH! He was screaming frantically now, and pounding so hard on the window his knuckles started to bleed. When the two of them turned and walked away, tears formed in the panicked, frightened singer’s eyes.
"Stop it."
The singer whipped around. What he saw made him question his sanity-more so than anything else he'd experienced in the last few minutes. The voice had come from a young man, but something was clearly off. No matter how hard Mick squinted at the boy, he couldn't quite focus on him. One minute he seemed transparent, the next he seemed solid. His skin was an ashen gray color, and Mick couldn't help but notice the guy's blank, almost black eyes.
"Who are you?" the singer managed.
"My name's Louis," the figure answered.
"Well, Louis, i'd like to get the hell outta here, if it's all the same to you," Mick responded, crossing his arms in a defensive stance.
"I'm sorry," Louis whispered, casting his gaze downward, and Mick noticed a pained, sorrwful expression come over his face.
"But you can't. We can't. We never can," the boy siged, answering with genuine regret.
Mick just stared blankly at him; and then he realized something, and he studied the boy's face harder, as best he could. When a bell went off in his memory, the singer's palms began to sweat and his throat went dry.
"Wait...I know you," he said, voice wavering.
Louis raised his brows expectantly.
"You're the kid from the picture, out in the hall." Yes. Mick was sure of it. This was the young man sitting on the front steps of this building...forty years ago.
"Yes," Louis softly confirmed. "That's me."
Mick suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He took one last look out the window, and then back at Louis before sinking to the floor and staring blankly ahead. He was still trying to think of a way to wake up from this nightmare when Louis quietly exited the room.
Pairing: Keith/Mick
Rating: Pg-13
Word Count: 2, 335
Disclaimer: Fake:)
Note: Reposted with a different ending:)
Keith’s body jerked and he jolted up suddenly. How long had he been dozing? What time is it? The guitarist looked down at his watch and wrinkled his forehead. It had been nearly half an hour since Mick had left; where was he? The dark haired boy looked around and saw that Charlie, Bill, and Brian were gone as well. Sighing, Keith lifted his legs out of the pool, got up, and stretched before heading in. The silence confirmed that, indeed, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the building right now. Keith looked around, confused, for Mick before checking their room. He wasn’t in there either, but something on the bed caught the guitarists’ eye. Well, wherever Mick had gone off to, he’d found the cigarettes and notebook first.
He’d gotten himself a cigarette out of the carton before he realized he didn’t have a lighter. He looked in his bag and grudgingly put the cigarette back, willing to bet anything that a certain singer had taken it. Keith snatched up the notebook then and lay back, arranging himself against the pillows. The guitarist was flipping through the book, casually looking over some of the songs Mick had finished or half finished, when a shadow cast itself in the doorway. Keith glanced up briefly and snickered.
“There you are. What’d you do, forget what you came in here for?” he asked, holding up the packet of cigarettes.
When Keith didn’t get an answer, he raised his eyes to Mick again and drew in a quick breath. The light behind the singer hit him perfectly; his tawny hair seemed to glow around the edges, and his outline had a feathery, almost transparent look to it. But that wasn’t the only thing the guitarist noticed. Mick was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed loosely over his mid-section; his long legs were crossed so that one ankle crossed over the other, and his body was relaxed in a seductive, curvy pose. Keith’s stomach fluttered, but he went back to pretending to read the notebook and cleared his throat.
“Where ya been?” he asked, as nonchalant as possible.
“Just went exploring for a bit. Though I heard something upstairs,” Mick answered, voice smooth and silky.
“You went upstairs?” Keith responded, curious.
“Oh-I mean, just for a minute. I just peeked down the hall, there was nothing there,” he said, waving it away.
Keith nodded and looked back down. But the younger boy swallowed hard and licked his lips when Mick sauntered over and lightly ran his fingers up Keith’s leg. Still, Keith didn’t look up, wanting to play with Mick a little more.
This became nearly impossible, though, when he felt the singer rest his hands on both of his knees and slowly glide them up his thighs. Keith closed his eyes as his head fell back on the pillow, letting a soft groan escape his lips. Mick grinned and reached up to take the notebook from Keith’s hands. He carelessly dropped it on the floor and went back to a lusty-eyed Keith; his hands traveled over the boy’s hips, over his chest, and finally up to his shoulders. He was hovering completely over the guitarist now, and Keith could feel the older boy’s warm breath on his skin. Mick’s lips brushed over his friend’s neck, over his cheek, and then stopped, rosy mouth hovering over Keith’s.
“Mick…” the guitarist muttered huskily. After letting their breaths mingle for a moment longer, Keith decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned up pressed his lips to Mick’s plush ones. A muffled moan came from the singer, and Keith reached up and tangled his hands in the boy’s hair, pulling him down on top of him. As Mick’s movements became more heated, Keith rearranged his arms to wrap them around the singer’s waist. Keith grunted into the kiss; Mick was being especially…aggressive today. Not that the younger boy minded; it’s just that he also needed to breathe. “Mick-Mick, slow down,” Keith said breathlessly, breaking off the kiss that was borderline frantic.
“What’s the matter, love?” Mick almost sneered. “Can’t handle me?”
Keith raised his eyebrows and smirked a little. “Oh, aren’t we bold today. We’ll see who can handle who.”
Mick grinned wickedly then; but it didn’t seem like Mick’s normal, playful smile, and for some reason, it threw Keith off a little; however it only lasted a brief moment before the younger one scolded himself for being ridiculous and pulled Mick back down. He knew the routine, and the course their playfulness usually took, and now he flipped the singer over on his back. The guitarist was sort of hoping they could slow down a little now; he liked to take his time with his singer, to enjoy every inch of him, and draw out each second. He leaned down to kiss Mick, a little more gently, but the older boy had other plans. He kissed back harder and rolled his hips upwards against Keith’s, and slid his hands up the back of Keith’s shirt. The younger one cringed and gasped in surprise when he felt Mick’s nails dig and drag down his back.
“God, Mick,” Keith said through gritted teeth against the singer’s lips. There was something different about his lover this afternoon, something almost…primal.
“Fuck!” Keith jumped and abruptly pushed Mick back. He stared at the boy now, wide eyed and incredulous.
“Did-did you just bite me?!” the guitarist exclaimed, touching the side of his neck. He was used to a little roughness with Mick in bed, a little competitiveness. But he wasn’t used to whatever was up with his singer today. Mick blinked at him.
“Oh! I’m sorry, Keith-I guess I just got a little carried away, is all. Didn’t mean it.” He cast his eyes down sheepishly then and poked out his lower lip; Keith relaxed. Now, this seemed a little more like Mick. Moody and dramatic.
“No-it’s alright; you just caught me a little off guard,” he laughed, rubbing the place where Mick had bit down. Mick smiled, and he seemed fine now. His ocean blue eyes were bright as normal, and his smile was charming and sweet. Keith reached out and brushed Mick’s face with his fingers, and was about to lean in for another kiss when the hotel’s front door slammed.
“Keith! Mick!” It was Brian.
“In here.” The guitarist answered. Brian poked his head in the door.
“Oh, hey Mick; haven’t seen you all day, where ya been?”
Mick shrugged. “Around.”
“…Right. Well, we’re all meeting at that little café across the street for lunch if you want to come.”
“K,” Keith responded. We’re comin’.”
Brian nodded and left. Keith turned to Mick.
“Let’s go then, shall we?” Mick hopped up and Keith lazily followed.
“Oh! Hey, what’d you do with my damn lighter?” Keith remembered to ask, cutting his eyes at the singer as they walked out the door. Mick seemed flustered for a minute.
“I-don’t know. I ain’t got yer lighter,” the boy said.
“You didn’t see it when you got my smokes out of my bag earlier?”
“Nope.”
Keith sighed. “Aright, then; I’ll borrow one.”
As they were crossing the street, Keith glanced over at Mick. He had his hands in his pockets and seemed much more himself.
When they got to the café, they spotted the others in a large corner booth and went over.
“So,” Andrew started. “What’s everyone been up to today?”
“Been to a few of these little shops,” Bill said. “Nothin’ much to them.”
“Yeah, there’s not much to do here,” Charlie agreed. “I read for most of the morning. “Hung out by the pool.”
“Sounds more productive than me,” Brian grumbled. “I woke up, then fell asleep in that hammock out back a few hours later. Played with my guitar for a bit. He shrugged. That’s about it. Any progress with the bus?”
Andrew rubbed his eyes. “No. Jack’s gonna have to go up to that town a few miles up, see if they have what we need. He’s havin’ a real fit about us spendin’ the night here again, but I hear there’s a storm coming in. We can’t travel in that.”
“What’s his deal, anyway?” Keith asked. “Why even own a hotel if you’re not gonna keep it open?”
Keith noticed Mick beside him; the boy seemed to be listening intently.
Ian chimed in. “Well, I was talkin’ to Jack earlier about that. Turns out, this place, Willow Falls or whatever, used to be like, way bigger. But over the past forty years or so, Jack says so many buildings have been abandoned and knocked down, and so many people have moved, that it eventually turned into this. Oh, and you know that other town, a few miles down? He says that’s where the people who run these little shops live. They used to live here, when it was bigger, but they moved. Just didn’t want to give up their businesses. Apparently, they used to do well enough, but he says that it’s getting worse.
“But what about the hotel?” Charlie asked. “And why’d people leave?”
“Right, so this is where shit gets weird,” Ian said, and the others leaned in. “Jack told me back in like, 1862 or something, a family lived there. And-
“1864,” a quiet, somber voice softly corrected, and everyone looked.
It had come from Mick. He seemed to be in a daze for a second, and then looked up. “Sorry. I, uh, think it was 1864.”
Ian blinked. “Oh-ok, right then; so in 1864, before it was a hotel, a big family lived there-house had been in this family for generations or something. Anyway, I didn’t every little detail, but-well, they were…murdered.”
Everyone stiffened and just stared. Ian shifted in his chair, and Mick clenched his fist.
“Yeah, so one of the girls had cheated on her fiancé, and he went completely bonkers and started stalking her. And one night, he saw that the girl had snuck her new boyfriend in the mansion while everyone else was asleep, and the ex…well, went in with a knife. When he was done, he ran. Neighbors heard the commotion and went to see.”
It was quiet for a few minutes; then Keith spoke.
“How many people?”
“I think Jack said about seven. Bloody massacre; after that, it stayed empty for years. It’s a huge place, so eventually someone bought it, and made an inn out of it. Over the years, it just kept changing owners-apparently people were claiming some freaky supernatural stuff about the hotel. Jack said his parents bought it when he was a baby. I couldn’t get anything else out of him. He just said people gradually started moving away.”
“That’s messed up,” Bill stated, taking a sip of his tea.
“If you believe in that stuff,” Brian added.
“Well, we’ll hopefully be out of here soon, so no worries,” Andrew said. They all went about talking and laughing, but Keith noted a change in Mick’s demeanor. His jaw was tense and he’d had a faraway look in his eyes the whole story. He seemed to snap out of it when his food came, though, and engaged a little in the conversations. When they were done, everyone went off to entertain themselves again, and Keith loosely put an arm around Mick’s shoulders.
“You all right, mate?” he asked.
“Fine. Why?” Mick responded, giving Keith a reassuring smile. Keith was satisfied with this, and the two walked off down the street together to look for something to do.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………............................
Mick’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned. He then realized he was on the floor and slowly got up on unsteady feet. He felt dizzy, confused. What happened? Where was he? He looked around and had to squint, as his brain still hadn’t straightened itself out yet. Mick was in the same room, but…something was different. The room, it looked…brand new. The mirror was in a gold frame; The wooden floors weren’t barren; they were newly shined, and Mick could even smell the wood, faintly. There was a new, expensive looking rug on the floor; the bed had a beautifully decorated quilt and a big, fine canopy over it. The dressers and walls were freshly painted, there were decorations everywhere, and the window had curtains.
The window!
Mick stumbled over to it and peeked out. He didn’t understand; everything looked the same; there was their bus parked in front, the little shops across the street, and he could even see Keith-
No, Mick thought. It was Keith; but he was with…
Mick felt the color drain from his face, and he nearly fainted. The boy started to shake violently, and he rubbed his eyes.
“Hey!” he said, voice hoarse and quiet at first.
“HEY! GET AWAY FROM HIM! GET AWAY! KEITH! He was screaming frantically now, and pounding so hard on the window his knuckles started to bleed. When the two of them turned and walked away, tears formed in the panicked, frightened singer’s eyes.
"Stop it."
The singer whipped around. What he saw made him question his sanity-more so than anything else he'd experienced in the last few minutes. The voice had come from a young man, but something was clearly off. No matter how hard Mick squinted at the boy, he couldn't quite focus on him. One minute he seemed transparent, the next he seemed solid. His skin was an ashen gray color, and Mick couldn't help but notice the guy's blank, almost black eyes.
"Who are you?" the singer managed.
"My name's Louis," the figure answered.
"Well, Louis, i'd like to get the hell outta here, if it's all the same to you," Mick responded, crossing his arms in a defensive stance.
"I'm sorry," Louis whispered, casting his gaze downward, and Mick noticed a pained, sorrwful expression come over his face.
"But you can't. We can't. We never can," the boy siged, answering with genuine regret.
Mick just stared blankly at him; and then he realized something, and he studied the boy's face harder, as best he could. When a bell went off in his memory, the singer's palms began to sweat and his throat went dry.
"Wait...I know you," he said, voice wavering.
Louis raised his brows expectantly.
"You're the kid from the picture, out in the hall." Yes. Mick was sure of it. This was the young man sitting on the front steps of this building...forty years ago.
"Yes," Louis softly confirmed. "That's me."
Mick suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He took one last look out the window, and then back at Louis before sinking to the floor and staring blankly ahead. He was still trying to think of a way to wake up from this nightmare when Louis quietly exited the room.