It All Started With...

Silence

Today was the day they had left the hospital, Ian still had that sickly cough and Anthony was still scarred from what had happened before. Now thought, they just stood in front of their house, staring at it from a distance as if it were evil- there were absolutely no signs of what had happened, no broken window, no dead body, nothing.

It was all normal.

Too perfect.

"...Anthony, I don't mean to sound like a pussy but...I honestly don't want to go back in there, I'm kind of scared." Whispered the ill brunette.

That was all it took for Anthony to say, "It's alright Ian, I won't make you go in there. We can go chill at a hotel or something for a while, alright?"

"But I don't have money."

"It's alright, I always keep my wallet." Murmured Anthony, glancing wearily at the car, "Come on, we're walking."

Ian looked over in confusion, "Why don't we just take the bus?"

"I just have a really weird feeling today, I'd rather play it safe with you- I don't trust anything at our house right now, and I'm not risking anything." Stated Anthony who only received a nod from Ian.

Border Line
Border Line

Both had finally made it to a hotel, the sun nearly setting. It was nothing too fancy- just a normal hotel with two small beds and room service. Just the basic assortments and pay for around three days; a small couch that stood before the TV as the screen blared brightly across the room. Ian and Anthony glanced around the room, their usually hyperactive personalities completely gone from their system, all they could do was sit in silence in their new room, watching the television, occasionally switching over to the news to spot any strange activity- but so far there was nothing.

They did not come with another set of clothes, but luckily the hospital had washed their clothes and Anthony was sure they could shower and reuse them for the next three days since the building had a washing room. Sure, it was disgusting, but he'd rather stay away from that damned place for just a while longer...he couldn't risk anything right now, especially not his best friend. Anthony took a wary glance before shifting in his spot to view the television.

Ian seemed to be drifting away from him by the second; the once bubbly man was so unusually quiet that the mood of the room felt uncomfortable- but Anthony did not want to change it. Another glance and he saw that Ian was paler than usual, his eyes surrounded in deep dark circles, and clearly needed to shave again before his stubble turned into a beard...now that he thought about it.

Anthony stroked his own stubble clad chin and bit his lip, they've been neglecting themselves quite a bit. But, at the moment, were blades even an option? Was ANYTHING an option anymore?

He did not know what to do, but he was sure there was a razor in the restroom, the hotel staff always left new toiletries for every new guest.

He was sure he could wait a few more days without it though. Shaving was not a necessity and the only drawback was a beard.

Maybe some well needed sleep was an option, "...Hey..." He called out, trying to reach the others attention, "Hey, Ian. How about you get some sleep?"

The brunette quickly shook his head, "No, I-I can't, not right now."

Anthony could only nod, staring at the television with an unreadable expression. He continued flipping through the stations, trying to find something that would at least diffuse the thick awkwardness in the room. Eventually he just ended up with nothing to do or watch and walked over to his bed; legs numb from walking from the trek to this hotel. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be sore tomorrow.

"...Are you okay, Anthony?" Came a near ghostly voice, so low that the speaker could barely hear it.

"I'm fine, Ian. Just tired from the long walk here." He gave a light smile, "a much needed workout, right?"

Ian barely gave a twitch of the lips and whispered, "I guess I should sleep too." Before standing and heading towards his own bed whilst the darker haired brunette was already snuggling under the sheets of his bed.

"Aren't you going to shut off the tv?" Asked a yawning Anthony.

"...It'll get dark." Ian stated, standing still, "...I want the tv on."

The other nodded and murmured, "Sure, man. Goodnight."

Ian bit his lip and looked around the room with a paranoid gaze, "..." He sat on the bed and shoved away the covers, "Goodnight."

Border Line
Border Line

There was a gentle crawling sensation along his legs, slowly inching their way up hairy thighs, which Ian tried to shuffle off, but they persisted. Once they reached his groin the blue eyed man sat straight up from his dream-like state and kicked off the covers.

He found it strange that the television was now off, hell there was such a silence that it nearly deafened him. Taking a moment to adjust his eyes to the dark, he finally focused on slithering, long tendrils of something crawling up his legs. Grasping at them with his hands he tried to get rid of them, but only succeeded in the things wrapping his arms together and tightening like a rope. Ian then looked over at Anthony and opened his mouth to scream but found the tendrils wrap around his nose and mouth with an iron grip, rendering him of breath.

Even his muffled screams and shouts wouldn't sound, it was as if this place was void of any noise. Ian looked over at Anthony, making a complete raucous in his bed but even as he fell to the floor there was no sound.

'Anthony!' He thought desperately, quickly losing his oxygen with the frantic struggling, 'wake up! Please, please wake up!' There were almost tears forming in his eyes. The long tentacle-like appendages were beginning to tug on him quite harshly, before beginning to drag him by the feet towards the underbelly of the bed. Ian continued to struggle with the appendages, kicking and trying to scream- anything to wake anyone up.

Then the lack of oxygen got to him, leaving him to heave and hyperventilate like a mad man. Still, there was no noise. He looked up to where Anthony was one last time, quickly being dragged under the recesses of the bed, the tendrils beginning to feel more like hands; it was starting to get painful. Like daggers ripping into his legs.

Eventually he began to feel lightheaded from the asphyxia. He was being engulfed into the darkness of both his subconscious and the metal death trap of the bed. The last traces of light brown hair disappearing under the twin sized bed, body vanishing from view.

Border Line
Border Line

Anthony awoke later the next morning to a repeating low hum of sobs- "Ian?!" He called out as his body swiftly rose from the bed to look at the other. Or should he say where the man was supposed to be, "Ian?!"

He heard the other but was unsure as to where he was, "...oh god, Ian?!" He shouted, ushering himself around the room and almost flipping everything over. The only thing that allowed him to find Ian was a particularly loud thud resonating from below the second bed. Hesitantly, the man crouched to his knees and called out, "Ian...?"

Muffled pleading came from beneath the bed where the man was; Anthony wasted no time in getting to the other and grappled the bed's underbelly. "Where are you?" He asked, feeling only the plush carpet beneath his fingers.

CLANG.

A subdued groan reverberated beneath the bed. It seems as if Ian was being held inside the metallic frame, concluded Anthony before reaching in and retracting the other man from the mattress.

Slowly, Ian's body was revealed to the light; bright scars of what looked like rope burns wrapped around and across his arms, legs, thighs, and torso. A dark, inky substance was present on his mouth, effectively muting any kind of speech.

Anthony quickly tried to pry off the intruding substance, but the more he struggled, the more it seemed to leech on. Whatever it was doing must have been hurting Ian because not too long after the shorter man started shaking his head for the other to stop.

"I have to get it out, Ian- who knows what it's doing to you?" He murmured worriedly, proceeding to forcefully yank the thing out, which made the blue eyed man begin to splutter and sob loudly. Although much to their content, the tendrils finally released and out came a long trail if the substance, almost an entire yard long of the aqueous form.

The burnt umber haired man groaned in disgust while throwing it across the room, then looking to the nearly dead figure beside him, "Are you okay?"

There was a pregnant pause before the other continued, "...y-yes." His voice was dry and raspy, "...my throat-."

"I know, don't talk." Murmured Anthony, examining the others body trauma; it almost looked like he was gagged and bound- scratch that, he was gagged and bound. "...Ian I don't know how to fucking help you, man." He choked out, tightening his lips into a straight line, eyes watering, "God damn it." He hissed.

"Don't cry, Anthony." It'll get better eventually, right?

...Right?

A/N: I had to separate this chapter and the next into two parts- the next will be up in a week or so.