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netherzon · 22 days ago

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Hetaween Fic - Haunted House Prompt

@hetaween-event

Summary: Alfred and Ludwig are youtube ghost hunters together, but they aren't being fully honest with each other

Characters: America, Germany, minor ghost OCs

Pairings: America/Germany but they're not together

Warnings: One of the main characters is a ghost so he's dead but still around, descriptions of ghosts and injuries, blood, concussions

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 5612

“What is UP everybody?!” Alfred half yells cheerfully. The dark forest around them remains as quiet as it has been since they hiked out here, “Welcome to our first ever 3am challenge!”

“We agreed we weren’t doing that,” Ludwig deadpans behind him. Alfred shushes him and twists away with the camera so Ludwig isn’t in view anymore.

“Like I said,” Alfred holds the camera close like he’s sharing a secret, “this is our 3am challenge. My name is Alfred, the party pooper is Ludwig” — said party pooper sticks his tongue out at him from behind the camera, making Alfred laugh — “and welcome to part thirty two of our International Ghost Hunt!”

They’d never actually been outside the U.S., or even outside of Maine, but that didn’t matter. Alfred had decided the name for their channel because Ludwig was German, which obviously made them International Ghost Hunting Buddies!

He’d still promised one day they’d head up to Canada together, just to make it twice as official. That was gonna be one of their big subscriber milestones, though. One million subscribers maybe, but even that felt a bit low to Alfred.

“Where are we today, my esteemed co-host?” Alfred holds the camera up so the audience can see Ludwig over his head again.

Ludwig doesn’t miss a beat, “A rotting house you found in the woods?”

Wry, dry, quizzical, amused, sarcastic, mean: there were a million words you could use to describe Ludwig’s delivery. Alfred had seen them all in the comments, along with every kind and unkind thing said about himself. It didn’t really matter at the end of the day. Ludwig was a master at understated, and Alfred had a talent for exaggeration. It was a winning formula.

“Correct-i-mundo,” Alfred pronounces it just a little bit wrong, “this is a definitely, totally, one hundo percent NOT haunted house I found in the woods! Here’s our 3am challenge to prove it!”

“We’re not doing a 3am challenge,” Ludwig repeats again, “especially not that one.”

“Aww, why not?” Alfred whines.

“This house is definitely haunted. You’ll fail.”

“I never fail! And even if I do, I’d rather fail than quit!”

Alfred’s expecting something like ‘Those are basically the same’ or ‘Famous last words’.

What he gets instead is an earnest, just-loud-enough-for-the-camera-to-pickup, “You always get sad when you’re proven wrong, and I don’t like seeing you so sad.”

This stops Alfred dead in his tracks. Ludwig has this concerned little furrow between his eyebrows, and what Alfred really wants to do is hug him and kiss his cheek and tell him how gosh darn sweet he is, but they’re just friends, and this is basically their job, and he’s not sure what Ludwig really means. If he has feelings like that for him. He doesn’t want to come on too strong either.

He’s probably just saying that cause he’s tired of you fear-eating all the ice cream after every ghost hunt.

“I—“ Alfred starts and stops, feeling his chest tighten. The furrow between Ludwig’s eyebrows gets deeper. Alfred tries again, “thanks for looking out for me Lutz, but that’s kinda personal to put on camera don’t you think? This is gonna go in the video.”

Ludwig was a pretty private guy. Alfred never had to try hard to convince him to change a line here or there.

Ludwig’s face smooths back out, “We can start over.”

“I won’t go all the way back, just a different line and then we’ll cut to inside the house.”

Alfred repeats, “I never fail! And even if I do, I’d rather fail than quit!”

This time he grins cartoonishly and tilts the camera back towards Ludwig.

“That sounds like a line from blockbuster hit Megamind 2: Megamind versus the Doom Syndicate,” is Ludwig’s ridiculous response. Standing there in his fancy old fashioned clothing, hair slicked back all formal like, making an incoherent reference to a movie almost nobody has watched. That’s not even an actual line from the movie.

It’s a bit too much of an inside joke, but Alfred isn’t patient enough to tell him they need to redo it again.

The last thing Alfred lets the camera hear before they head inside is his own reaction, “I will never regret making you watch the direct to dvd sequels without watching the first movies.”

If you can’t make the audience laugh, outrage is a good second option. It is also the truth. Ludwig had not seen pretty much any modern movies before they met, and Alfred had taken full advantage of this for his own amusement. It was too bad he hadn’t seen the popularity of movie reaction videos coming. Ludwig’s reactions were a gold mine. He had been too dazzled by the animations and Alfred’s surround sound speakers to complain that the movies were bad or confusing or low quality when they objectively were. This was even funnier to Alfred.

He also wasn’t patient enough to think about how strange his friend was, or why.

Ludwig hadn’t ever really said where he’d come from, but Alfred was pretty sure he knew.

Hot, single, old fashioned German guy his age appears out of nowhere, without any modern tech or pop culture knowledge? Definitely Amish.

~~~~~~~~

Alfred stops at the bottom of the porch steps. The rotting wood has spots of faded blue gray paint on it. There’s half a handrail to one side. He gingerly tests the stairs once, then he jumps on them. Ludwig watches patiently until Alfred is satisfied they won’t collapse under their weight. Next, they set up the camera to get B-roll of them walking up the stairs and into the house.

It was Ludwig’s suggestion that they do all the video production stuff first. Once Alfred ran out of a house screaming he wouldn’t go near it again, and Ludwig couldn’t do it alone. Wouldn’t do it alone. Ludwig’s fans complained that Alfred hogged the camera too much, but Alfred had offered to let him take the lead a couple times. He just didn’t like being on camera.

“Especially not that camera,” he’d say, “it’s haunted.”

“That’s what I paid for!” Alfred would wink back.

This B-roll doesn’t go as smoothly as usual. Alfred twists the knob, shoves, and the door falls right off its hinges. It crashes against the wooden floor boards, the sound ricocheting through the house. Dust billows up from the floor, blocking their view inside. For one horrifying second they wait for something within the house to respond, to react to the intruders that so rudely announced themselves.

Nothing happens.

The dust settles again.

“Well,” Alfred jokes into the quiet, “at least we don’t have to worry about it slamming shut and locking behind us!”

This is a joke he’s made many times, because it is an actual fear of his every time they do this.

“You worry about that. I don’t worry about that.”

Alfred turns back to the camera mouthing “Sorry”, then again shrugging, then again acting sheepish, then another looking terrified. This has never happened before, so he’s not sure what reaction will be funniest. Best to get them all at once and decide later which one to use.

“I don’t know how you can believe in ghosts but not worry they’re gonna get you. I don’t actually worry, by the way. I know ghosts aren’t real, so it can’t happen. Duh.”

Despite appearances, and also character, it is Ludwig who is the ghost truther in their pair, and Alfred who is the unbeliever.

“Ghosts are real. There are ghosts in this house. They know you’re here,” Ludwig says in an ominous tone. Alfred briefly holds the flashlight under Ludwig’s chin for effect, cause that’s what the video needs. The words still make him shudder.

“Why do you always gotta say it in the worst way possible,” Alfred whines again, more quietly.

If his heart is starting to beat faster, it’s only because he’s that good an actor. If he’s considering asking Ludwig to hold his hand, well, that’s not for comfort. He just wants to hold Ludwig’s hand and has been trying to get Ludwig to hold his hand for the past seven ghost hunting trips they’ve been on. The comfort would just be a bonus.

Alfred F Jones is not seriously scared of ghosts. Really. He never has been. Not even once. Ghosts aren’t real, and you can’t be afraid of something that’s not real.

“Do you want to know the names of the ghosts in this house and how they died?” Ludwig asks, more chipper than usual, almost eager to help.

Alfred shudders hard enough that it comes through on camera. “Maybe later,” the flashlight shakes a little, “after we explore a bit.”

“If you say so, though, Valerie doesn’t like to be ignored.”

“You’re so fucking creepy man, cut it out!”

“You cut it. You’re the editor.”

Alfred leaves that line in out of spite.

~~~~~~~~~~~

They explore the first floor together. At each room they come up with competing ideas of what it was used for. Ludwig sticks to the sensible answers: Mudroom, lounge, dining room, bathroom 1. Alfred likes to get more creative: lava lamp storage, dressing room, flee circus training facility—

Ludwig decides now is the time to start being ominous again, “Are you suggesting Valerie has flees? She’s not going to like that.”

Alfred audibly gulps, but presses forward anyway, “Uh, yeah? First, Recreational Flees don’t count, but I wouldn’t put it past them to have regular flees too! Did you see their bathroom?”

Ludwig merely hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

“Dude you are such a fence sitter! Do you think Valerie had flees too or not?!” Alfred forgets his inside voice, as he usually does. Desperate to get Ludwig on the hook with Valerie, just in case she is real, even though she’s definitely not.

The whole house seems to creak all at once. Alfred jumps as a branch knocks against the window next to him. Clutching his chest. Breathing heavy. His heart is racing.

The camera is pointed at the floor for almost ten seconds.

Ludwig waits until Alfred turns the camera on him to respond. Both his eyebrows are raised in mild surprise, but he looks composed and extremely smug next to Alfred.

“No, I do not believe Valerie has flees.” There’s a moment of silence, and then Ludwig adds, “I tried to warn you.”

There’s another moment of silence. Ludwig looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. Alfred continues to glare at him from behind the camera.

“One of these days I’m gonna hit you,” Alfred threatens. It’s an empty threat and they both know it. He’s made others like it in their videos and Ludwig has always refuted him. Always, because Ludwig is right, Alfred isn’t going to punch him, or kick him, or tickle him (unless Ludwig wanted him to), or slap him (unless Ludwig wanted him to do that too).

Yet they continue to go off script this night. Alfred regrets saying it immediately because Ludwig suddenly looks miserable. He stares into the distance over Alfred’s shoulder, his eyes shining like he’s about to cry.

“Hey, are you okay?” Alfred asks in a panic. He points the camera back towards a random wall. It’s not real privacy, but it feels more comfortable that way. “I’m sorry I said I’d hit you, I wouldn’t really do that, not over a joke anyway! I thought you knew that, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!” The apologies pour out of his mouth uncontrollably.

He walks towards Ludwig, but Ludwig steps back so quickly he almost hits the wall. He won’t look at Alfred.

Alfred stops too, a little hurt himself, but most of all guilty. He’s still blathering, “I’ve never seen you look so sad before! I really am sorry, please talk to me, Ludwig!”

Hearing his name seems to snap him out of it. Ludwig turns back to Alfred, headless of the tears that are streaming down his cheeks, “I’m fine.”

“But you’re—“

Ludwig hurriedly interrupts, “Speaking of bathrooms, I need one. Excuse me.” With that, he turns to leave.

“Wait!” Alfred moves to follow him, confused and scared that Ludwig might leave entirely.

That’s when Ludwig turns to face him head on and yells, “Do NOT move, Alfred!”

Alfred pauses for a second before walking towards his friend again, “You’re not making any sense—“

Just to get Alfred to stop Ludwig crosses the space between them. “Do not move from this spot, Alfred,” he repeats firmly.

“Why?” Alfred demands, angrier now. If Ludwig wanted to abandon him here, he should just say it. He’d rather hear it directly.

Perhaps Ludwig could sense Alfred’s fear, because his face softens. His hands come up in a gesture of peace, though an edge remains in the sound of his voice, “I’m going to go outside to use the restroom, Alfred, that’s all, and I don’t want you exploring the house without me. What if something happened and I couldn’t find you?”

Mollified by his concern, Alfred softens too, “Well, I guess. I’m not interested in watching you pee, so…”

Ludwig snorts, “So you’ll wait here for me?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Alfred reassures him.

Ludwig gives a quick ‘Good’ and then quickly disappears down the dark hallway.

“You heard me when I said I was sorry, right?” Alfred calls after him.

There is no response.

“He must’ve really had to go,” Alfred mutters to the camera.

~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first five minutes he picks at his fingernails. Zips and unzips and zips his hoodie. Fiddles with the brightness on their camera.

At ten minutes he’s staring intently at the faded pattern on the wallpaper. Tries to recreate it on his jeans with an old highlighter he had in his fanny pack. Cleans the lens of their camera.

At fifteen minutes he’s trying to pronounce the German brand name on the camera with the worst American accent he can. Ludwig had read it to him once or twice, so he had a vague idea of the correct way. Now he just had to do it as badly as possible. Maybe then Ludwig will think twice about leaving Alfred alone in the future.

Twenty minutes, and he’s listening to the video he has of Ludwig saying ‘I don’t like seeing you so sad’ for reassurance. To keep himself in place he imagines he goes looking for Ludwig, and it turns out he didn’t leave him behind, but his friend feels so betrayed that Alfred didn’t trust him that he leaves because of it.

Twenty five minutes, and Alfred imagines Ludwig has hurt himself.

He goes looking for him.

It’s slow going because he’s lost his mental map of the house now. He thinks he’ll find the kitchen and finds a closet. Where he remembers the living room, there’s the kitchen. Where he thought the bathroom was, now it’s the living room. At the center of the house he finds the mudroom, which just doesn’t seem right at all.

“What is even the point of having this here?” He asks the screen door leading into it.

A horrendous screeching noise fills the hallway. Alfred jumps back as a gash rips the screen from the ceiling to the floor like somebody cut through it with a knife.

His glasses are peppered with flakes of rusted metal, along with his shirt, pants, shoes, and his camera lens. “Rusted old piece of junk,” Alfred says angrily as he takes off his hoodie to use the clean back as a rag, “Are you trying to give me tetanus?!”

Despite being inside, pine scented wind waves the ruined screen around. More bits of rust land on Alfred’s shoes, and he quickly moves on.

After trying to find the front door for what felt like an hour, he finally finds something. He turns a corner and sees somebody at the end of the hall.

It’s not Ludwig.

He makes sure to keep the camera pointed forward as he calls out, “Hello? It’s nice to meet you! My name’s Alfred. What’s yours?”

It looks to be a girl in her early teens. She has on a long skirt, and long braided hair. The house creaks around them, but the girl only stares silently from the end of the hall.

“Oookay,” Alfred says, “That’s fine, you don’t have to tell me your name! You’re probably scared, huh? Are you lost? Where’s your family?”

Alfred begins walking towards her slowly, the way you would a cornered animal. She stares with wide unblinking eyes.

He gets maybe halfway down the hallway. Close enough to notice she’s dressed up to look like her head is on backwards.

“Oh cool! Is that your Halloween costume? That’s really good! Are you that robot mom from Umbrella Academy? Jeez, what was her na—“

Alfred is cut off by a piercing scream. An invisible force slams into him, sending him flying down the hall. Instinctively he wraps his arms around the camera, leaving his head unprotected. He smashes into the floor, rolls, hitting doors, a small table, only stopping when he hits the back wall. The scream continues. All the doors along the hall slam open and closed, open and closed.

At some point it stops. He’s not sure when or why or what actually happened anyway. The ringing in his ears continues, so it’s doesn’t make much of a difference to Alfred.

Dazed, he starts to uncurl, checking the camera. It looks fine, thank god, except for where there’s blood smeared across it. Using his sleeves to try and wipe it off only makes the mess worse. The blood is coming from his hands.

He can see the cuts, can see the dull red of the blood soaking into his blue hoodie. He can’t feel it though. Yet?

Something is seriously wrong with him.

Thinking about it makes his head hurt. The sudden wave of nausea has him curling back in on himself. He leans as far from the camera as he can and coughs up bile.

The screaming starts again. This time it is agony. His hands come up to cover his ears automatically, black spots filling his vision. He almost can’t see the man standing in front of him. He doesn’t see the girl advancing down the hallway at all.

“Ludwig?” He asks. His voice is pitiful and weak, but he’d recognize that slicked blond head anywhere and anyway this is important. “Ludwig, I think I have a concussion,” he groans.

Ludwig is facing away from him, but he inclines his head a little in acknowledgment. He is not much help though. “I do not know what that means,” he says after a moment.

“A concussion? Means I have a brain bruise. A bruised brain. My brain is now a bruis-ed,” Alfred explains to the best of his ability, "I had a concussion once when I was a kid. From skateboarding. ‘S not fun."

"Yet you lived?" It's hard to tell when he's still looking away, but Ludwig sounds weirdly hopeful.

"uhh…" Alfred doesn't get a chance to think of a response because the screaming restarts. It sends Alfred back to his ball form, doubling over again. Feet pound on the floor towards them, there’s a smack, a flash of heat. And then��

Silence.

“Alfred,” he hears Ludwig say quietly. He’s unusually quiet. Alfred assumes it’s a kindness to him in his concussed state, “Alfred we should leave.”

“Wh—“ Alfred uncurls a little too quickly and makes himself dizzy. He braces himself against the floor on hands and knees. Deep breaths. His eyes are on the camera, “We haven’t even gone to the second floor yet! Or the basement!”

Ludwig pauses. He also looks at the camera, and that’s when he notices the alarming amount of blood covering it.

“What—“ he starts, looking at Alfred’s hands, Alfred’s head, “is that a concussion?! Your face is bleeding!” He asks with alarm.

Alfred pushes the camera towards him gently, “Can you clean this? We need to check out the other floor.”

Ludwig physically recoils. Alfred’s never seen Ludwig puke before, but now he really looks like he might. Instead of taking the camera, he tries to get Alfred onto his feet, “We need to leave now!”

“Wait, wait!” Alfred grabs the camera before he can be pulled too far. All the quick motions make him dizzy, and he has to lean against the wall to catch his breath and calm down his guts.

Ludwig paces while he waits, tugging at his cufflinks with agitation. Alfred spends thirty seconds against the wall. It quickly eats away at his friend’s patience, “Alfred what if you are bleeding to death?”

Well now, that Alfred cannot accept, “Bold words from someone who doesn’t know what a concussion is.”

Blood drips down the side of his face and onto the floor. He hadn’t noticed his head wound before, but it’s not a big deal. He had been an adventurous child, “Like I said I’ve had plenty of head wounds,” Alfred says confidently, despite how he feels like shit, “this isn’t gonna kill me.”

Ludwig goes back to tugging at his cufflinks.

“Hey wait,” Alfred says once he’s capable of more coherent thought, “what happened to that girl?”

The hallway that Alfred flew down looks an absolute mess, but there are no signs of the girl anywhere. A pit of worry starts to grow in Alfred’s stomach. What if she really was bleeding to death somewhere?

Ludwig stops pacing and just stares at him, eyes a mix of exasperation and admiration. “Never change, Alfred,” he says quietly. Sweetly. Then he grabs Alfred’s hand and starts to haul him down the other hallway, “If you’re well enough to worry about others, you’re well enough to move yourself! I know where the exit is, but they don’t want us to leave.”

“What? Who is they? What’re you talking about?”

“The ghosts in this house,” Ludwig is a man on a mission. The grim determination on his face now is frightening, “they mixed the whole house up to try and confuse us, and they hurt you. Badly. Just don’t let go of the camera, okay?”

He didn’t need to worry about that. Alfred was continuously filming. It was an unconscious action by now. The same as breathing, or blinking, or his heart beating. Nothing that couldn’t rip his heart straight out of his chest stood a chance at prying that camera away from him.

He gives Ludwig a thumbs up, “yeah, you’re right. I still don’t believe in ghosts, or that the house is changing, or whatever else you said, but I’m ready to go now.”

Ludwig sighs deeply, but keeps moving without a word. Alfred gets the feeling he’s stressed about being lost. Definitely has nothing to do with Alfred.

They wander for a while. Ludwig leads them confidently through the twisting corridors, reaching out to grab Alfred’s wrist when he starts to fall behind. It doesn’t take long for Alfred to lose track of time and their direction, and he lets it all go, his focus directed towards the comforting feeling of Ludwig’s hand holding onto him instead.

Until they reach the front door again.

The room they had first seen has completely changed. It looks like a mansion now. The front door is a set of double doors now, and there are grand staircases and chandeliers with lit candles to match. However, they don’t seem to offer much light. The room has expanded beyond their reach. It wasn’t designed like this.

It also means the front doors are back on their hinges. Probably locked.

There’s a young woman between them and the door. She looks older than the last mystery girl, with a much less elaborate costume. She just looks like an old timey axe murder victim; an old looking dress stained with fake blood that drips down from her face and hair. It looks more realistic than the red food coloring mix Alfred has used for his own film projects.

“Wonder if she’ll give me the recipe,” he mutters to no one.

“Valerie,” Ludwig tries to project calm, “let us leave.”

The woman, Valerie, smiles. She spreads her arms, and Alfred is impressed how her left side seems to gush with a new flow of blood. Visually, her shoulder doesn’t seem attached to her body. “Can’t you see my vision for this house?” She asks, “It could have been something wonderful. It could be something wonderful if you gave it a chance.”

There’s a strange echo in her voice. A pitch that’s not quite right. Alfred cringes when he hears it. Immediately he starts glancing around to see if he can spot the speakers they must be using to project her altered voice into the room. She must be hiding a mic somewhere.

“I know, Valerie, I know you wanted more than what you got. Believe me, I did too. But we can’t stay here,” Ludwig’s voice is sad and surprisingly soft for such a serious guy. Alfred is always impressed by Ludwig’s compassion for all the strangers they meet doing this. To Alfred, they usually seemed like real weirdos. He tries his best to be friendly, but he never really figured out how to talk to them.

“I’m not leaving!” Valerie suddenly screams with a force that shakes the floor beneath them, “I’m not leaving! I don’t care if the walls rot away around me, I’m not leaving!” She continues to wail, her body bending and shuddering and folding at impossible angles. Drops of blood float around her in ways Alfred didn’t even think were possible. He flinches at the sound, but the display fills him with envy.

I want visual effects like that!

Ludwig holds his hands out in a placating gesture, “You can stay! If you’re not ready to go then I’m not here to force you. I just need you to let me and my friend leave now. He needs medical attention.”

Valerie suddenly stops, hands still with a death grip on her hair, and now as she turns Alfred gets a glimpse of the (makeup) wound at the back of her head. The sight alone makes him sick to his stomach. He’s never seen anything like it before.

“Ludwig, what’s going on?”

“Shush, Alfred!” Ludwig throws over his shoulder, eyes firmly fixed on Valerie.

Valerie is staring at Alfred now. Her eyes are dark, glazed over but somehow sharp. The effect is one of oppressive exposure. He is seen in every way by something intangible. Nothing so insignificant as a mere human’s eyes. The presence surrounds him from every angle, slips through his hair, under his clothes into his ears eyes nose mouth it fills his lungs floods his blood stream it—

“Valerie,” Ludwig calls her name again, trying to bring the woman’s attention back to him.

Alfred is standing slightly behind him, in the same mansion as before. Nothing has changed, except when the thing lets go he falls to his knees, dry heaving. There’s nothing left in his stomach from earlier, but that can’t stop the painful convulsions. His head hurts like hell. Tears stream down his face.

He’s not sure how long it is before the pain is faded enough to hear the ongoing conversation.

“I promise we’ll come back,” is the first thing he understands fully.

“What?” Alfred begins to protest, but his voice is too hoarse to be heard across the room. Ludwig has moved closer to Valerie, and now he waves a hand at Al behind his back in a “Shut up I’m trying to save your life” gesture.

“Believe me, I know how lonely it is. You know that I understand that. But killing my friend won’t help. You have my word, if you let me get him medical attention, we will come back to see you.”

Valerie tilts her head curiously. “Friend? You consider him a friend?”

“Of course.”

“But he still lives.”

“Yes.”

“You want him to keep living?”

“Yes, I do.”

Valerie seems confused, but convinced Ludwig is being truthful, so she turns her attention back to Alfred. He tenses up under her gaze, expecting the choking to begin again.

It never comes. Instead she just squints suspiciously at him, “Do you consider him a friend?”

Alfred looks at Ludwig, deliberately ignoring Valerie, “What’s this Power of Friendship thing that’s happening right now? Are we on an MLP themed episode of Punk’d or something?”

Ludwig doesn’t get to answer before the floor begins to shake again. It feels like he’s made the house angry.

Damn, they really did the most with the robotics here!

“Please just answer the question, Alfred!”

“Okay, yeah, I consider Ludwig a friend! One of my best friends even!” And maybe something more sometime, maybe, his brain finishes. He keeps that part to himself.

The shaking stops. The intense look of concentration on Valerie’s face does not.

“I don’t trust you—,” she says after a moment.

“That makes two,” Alfred shoots back, earning him an exasperated look from Ludwig.

“—how can spirits and the living truly be friends?” Valerie continues.

Alfred groans again, “What are you even talking about? I’m concussed, I can’t answer riddles right now.”

“So you believe me when I say we are friends?”

Valerie’s eyes flick back towards Ludwig. “I believe you believe you’re friends. It is foolish though.”

Ludwig inches his way between Valerie and Alfred again, shielding him from view. “What does that mean?”

It’s Valerie’s turn to look sad, “Would you swear on your life that you’ll come back?”

“That’s—” Ludwig falters, “that’s a bit hard for me to do…. That would be a question for Alfred.”

“I will not accept your friend’s word. You shouldn’t either.”

Ludwig looks back at Alfred then, clearly distressed. Alfred feels a bit guilty. He’s understood less and less of the conversation as it's gone on, and he’s not sure what to do. He shrugs helplessly, shaking his head a little.

He must be bleeding a lot, because Ludwig quickly agrees to whatever Valerie was talking about. He turns back to her and says, “On my soul, I swear.”

Valerie sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t understand,” she murmurs.

“Well,” Ludwig shrugs a little too, “I’m already dead, I don’t have much to lose anymore.”

“No, only the very last shreds of yourself, your life, your memory,” Valerie begins backing away. The room around them begins to crumble with her. The candles flicker out. Windows that had been fixed in the illusion now break inwards again. In a few seconds the room is remade into the room they first saw. The door, too, crashes again, revealing the dark forest beyond it. The exit

“That’s not worth anything to me personally. There’s only one person now who might care about something like that, and he needs my help right now.”

Ludwig walks back towards Alfred, helping him to his feet. Alfred wraps an arm around Ludwig’s shoulders and Ludwig wraps an arm around his waist. The camera remains in a firm grip in Alfred’s hand. Still recording. Capturing everything.

They limp towards the door together. The last word goes to Valerie:

“We’ll see.”

#gerame #hws germany #hws america #hetaween 2024 #its not actually Haunted House Prompt day I am very sorry #I'll think of a good title for this when I post it on ao3 #i hope this works okay as a standalone #its not my best work but I had fun #cw: blood #cw: wounds #cw: head injuries

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