The Haunted Masquerade

Much like the ride to the mansion, the ride to Salem's house was about fifteen minutes. Maybe a little quicker, considering Marc's insane driving style (which was a lot faster than Harris, who was a paranoid driver despite his outgoing personality).

When they got to his house, Salem couldn't help but release a sigh of relief, which earned a glance from Marc. The other boy had taken the mask off by now, probably to see better driving, and Salem felt he could understand the look. It said something like What are you so relieved about? This is hardly over yet. To which Salem couldn't help but fully agree to. Whether that was just his own paranoia speaking or what Marc was actually thinking was an entirely different matter, though. Salem pulled at the car handle after hearing the click signaling it had unlocked and the door swung open to his side, letting him climb out onto the familiar sidewalk in front of his house. The lights were all off, considering he must have forgotten to turn any on when he'd left earlier and his brother and sister-in-law would be long-gone by now. Salem paused at the bottom of the stairs leading to the house, not looking over at Marc as he felt the other boy pause next to him. The thought of going into his house -- especially it being so dark -- was particularly foreboding as the thought of Martin coming after him and how he was going to be alone all weekend crashed through his thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

Now Salem was able to pry his eyes away from the dark house to look up at Marc. "It seems ... scary, now," he admitted honestly. He looked back at the house, so whatever reaction Marc may have had went unnoticed.

"I know, but for now its the best we can do," Marc said. The black-haired boy could hear a gentleness in his voice that calmed him down slightly. He wouldn't be quite so easily convinced that everything would be all right any time soon -- not by a long shot -- but certainly, if Marc was around, it wouldn't be terrible? The other boy had sworn to protect him, after all. "What if I stay for a while, huh?" Honestly, the suggestion took Salem by surprise. The thought of Marc staying with him alone was unnerving, especially after they'd kissed.

"I -- um," he stammered, then cleared his throat. "Sure. Thank you." He was just being paranoid again, he was sure. He'd always been that way, and being scared didn't help out.

Marc nodded, which Salem caught from the corner of his eye. "Are you ready to go in? Why don't you give me the key and I'll lead the way?" This time Salem nodded, silently leading the way up the stairs with Marc right behind him and fishing in the overgrown flowerpot on the porch where they hid a spare house key. He could feel Marc's analytical stare on his back as he finally pulled it out, but when he turned around the boy was just calmly watching again, holding his hand out casually for the key. Salem handed it to him without a word and the other pushed it in the keyhole and turned until the door opened. "C'mere," he instructed quietly, to which Salem listened and walked over. The other boy put a hand on the small of his back and led him inside gently. "Where's the light switch?" he asked. His voice was low, increasing Salem's tensity as he thought about how Martin may already be lurking here somewhere, waiting to get at him when he was alone again. Instead of saying anything -- partially out of worrying his fear would show too much -- Salem took a few steps to the left and flipped the switch.

Light flooded through the front room of the house, causing Salem to blink as his eyes got used to the change. He couldn't see anything off about this part of the house, at least. He felt Marc's hand move to his, and realized suddenly that he was actually shaking from his nervousness. His smaller hand closed in turn around the bigger, stronger one, clinging for the comfort he kept feeling in this man he barely knew. "Everything looks alright here," he said, his voice lowered to a whisper as if talking too loud would be a bad idea. "I guess ... we should check out the rest of the house?" When he got a nod of confirmation from the other, he led the way through the threshold of the front room and into the living room. Again, he flicked the light on. And, again, everything looked fine. After cautiously checking the dining room and kitchen, Salem felt his frayed nerves calm, and was able to lead Marc upstairs much more confidently. He checked all the rooms there, with much the same result as all of the rooms downstairs.

Finally, he came up to his bedroom, turning the knob and gripping Marc's hand with the other of his. He turned the light on and ... nothing. Why had he even felt Martin would surely be in here if nowhere else? It seemed like the most likely place, though, he supposed. His bedroom was the safe haven in a house where he wasn't paid attention to or beaten on a daily basis. It was the one place that his sister-in-law didn't come, nagging and swinging at him. If there was one place that Martin could show up to make him feel utterly unsafe, it was his bedroom. Salem let out a sigh of relief, not even noticing he'd been holding a breath in. His house was safe. For now, at least. But it was safe. Part of Salem was so happily overwhelmed he just wanted to fall on his bed and cry. Another part of him was so paranoid of what was to come that he would fall on his bed and cry for a completely different reason. And part of him tightened its grip on Marc's hand and thought of nothing but curling up somewhere in his arms, completely safe and sound from the ghosts after him.

"What?" Marc's voice broke him from his struggle over which part to follow or if he should just ignore all of them. He stared forward, knowing he'd blush if he looked at the boy standing slightly behind him.

"Nothing. I'm just so glad he isn't here," he admitted half-truthfully before his mouth opened in a yawn -- which made Marc laugh. This time, Salem did blush, and was glad of the mask he'd yet to take off that hid a lot of his cheeks. "Its, er, late," he said, feeling stupid even as he said it. There was no need for him to explain himself. Obviously he was tired.

At that, Marc loosened his hand from Salem's until they were both at the side of their proper owner. "Would you like to go to sleep? I'll stay around to make sure everything's all right tonight."

Salem shook his head. The thought of Marc leaving him completely was terrifying. What if Martin sneaked in while Marc was looking elsewhere? No. He wanted Marc closer to him than that. It sounded selfish to his own ears, but it was how he felt. "Please," he amended. "I ... I don't ... I'll just change into pajamas and then we could ... do something. A movie, maybe?" It was what he normally did with his friends, so why not?

"All right." Marc didn't sound disappointed or pleased either way. His voice was neutral and flat. "I'll wait for you out here, okay? I'll be right here if anything happens, Salem." Salem nodded, trying not to show his immense relief, and then hurried into his bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. It took him a minute to rummage through his drawers for pajamas to wear, but finally he settled on blue-plaid pajama pants and an old t-shirt. He went about taking his suit from the masquerade off as quickly as he could (which wasn't anywhere near as quick as he would have liked) and then pulled the PJs over-top of his boxers and chest. When he was done, he opened the door, looking up into Marc's face. "I'm just gonna wash this off," he mumbled, gesturing toward his lined eyes and then pointing at the bathroom across the hall.

He headed over without another word, turning on the light and leaning over the sink. It only took a moment to get it off, and then he turned back to Marc. "Okay, so um. We have a bunch of movies downstairs," he said, leading the way to the living room again. When they got there, he indicated with a wave the case housing their DVDs. There were all kinds there. Salem's Disney and romance movies, to his sister-in-laws romance and horror, to his brother's comedies, to the movies multiple had liked and shared with one another. Salem's things were clearly put away from the rest, as though his light-hearted, simple movies would contaminate the others. He brushed the thought away and walked over the case, glancing back to see if Marc was behind him. The other boy was looking around the room curiously. "Marc?" he asked softly.

"Oh. Sorry." The boy grinned, albeit as though he were embarrassed, and headed over. After a moment, he said, "I have no idea. You pick."

Salem nodded and chewed on his lip, trying to decide what movie might be the best. He didn't want to annoy or bore Marc. But at the same time the kid movies that would probably do that were what he enjoyed the most and what he more needed to see to really calm himself down. Eventually he pulled out Wall-E, and set everything up. When that was done, he headed over to the couch, motioning to Marc to join him. The other boy, closer already and possessing longer legs, made it first and sat down. And once Salem was within arms reach, Marc wound his arms around the boy's waist and pulled him down right beside him, holding him close.