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yandematic · 1 year ago

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Over the Hills

Yandere Alhaitham x Reader x Yandere Scaramouche

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violence, gore

The rain has soaked through your clothes, your body drenched enough to feel as if you’re now wet to the bone. Though, you guess technically you are… Just bone inside flesh and muscle, blood and slush of your insides – You shake your head, this thought doing nothing to help you as you step slowly through the rain.

It was so heavy, your arm in front of your eyes to try and prevent it from getting in your way, but it’s doing essentially nothing. Your socks are making a squishing sound that you can feel more than hear, your shoes just little foot baths. The foliage on the forest floor was sinking beneath you and you were worried you might just descend into the ground and vanish. You just hope that you were able to wrap your phone up enough to prevent it from drowning through your pockets, having it tucked into your bra and between your boobs for good measure. Your wallet was not so lucky, as you had to hold that, though you’re sure it’s not going to be as bad from the water.

You had been travelling through the mountains, leaving extra early from the small motel to beat the storm. Some good that did, it had hit suddenly and hard, you instantly slowed down on the road but not fast enough, a boar darting right into the front, left corner of the bonnet, and careening you off to the side and rolling down a hill into the forest. Your car had hit a tree and broken the roof and windows, so you tried to shove your bags under the seats and somewhere relatively dry, but, you wouldn’t be surprised if your car was flooded by now.

You tried your hardest to climb back to the road, except it was too wet and soft, so you had no choice but to follow the forest. Not too long ago, you swear you saw a driveway leading up a bit into the bush, some little light on the ground that you assume is to show the driveway at night. You were looking for it again, but the rain was too thick, and you’ve run into branches more than once already.

Your knee hits a surface, and you fall forward, another incline, this one more stable. You crawl up until you land on a dirt road. As soon as you stand up, the bulky muck on your clothes was washed off, leaving light stains. Thankfully, this dirt road seemed to the be one you were looking for, a small light not far from your foot. If you were going in the correct direction, you should head left and up the driveway.

It was a bit of a hike, your feet slipping multiple times, you even had to crawl some of the way. You swear you cried when you saw the porch lights, a very faint hum in the distance. It was hard to tell what anywhere looked like, so you just focused on the porch and made your way to what you hoped was the front door.

As soon as you made it onto the porch and under the tin roof, you tried wiping your eyes of water, but it didn’t seem to help. So, you shook your head and kicked off your shoes, annoyed at the slush. With four, hard knocks you rapped your knuckles on the wooden door, hoping to be louder than the rain. While you waited, you started to ring your clothes out, wrinkles immediately forming but you couldn’t care as long as you stopped being wet and cold. When no one came, you tried again, now reaching into your bra for your phone.

You pawed between your boobs when the door opened, a man in a frilly apron glaring at you with an unwelcome stare. He was barely taller than you, his hair neat and even on the sides with a trimmed fringe and longer back. He was holding a ladle and regarded you with a harsh ‘what’ but you couldn’t find yourself to be annoyed, instantly relaxing at the air of heat that hits your face. You smile up at him with relief, “Oh my gosh, hi. I’m so sorry to bother you but my car rolled into a ditch and I have nowhere to go.”

His frown quirked into a snarl, head cocking, “Awh, really? So what do you want me to do about it?”

The sarcasm dripping off of him was painful. You could now think a little clearer, feeling offended that he was being so rude to you when you needed help. Maybe he lives this far away because he doesn’t want anything to do with people, that doesn’t mean he can’t have a heart. You tried not to fight him on this, “It’s starting to flood outside and I-“ You begin to unwrap your phone, pressing the button and squealing as it turned on, though needed to dry it quickly if you wanted it to survive. Of course, no reception, “Do you have internet or anything I could connect to, so I can contact someone to help?”

He looks you up and down, eyebrow quirked. You expect him to roll his eyes and let you in, instead, he gives a tight smile, “No.”

The door is slammed in your face.

Okay, now you’re mad.

You bang on the door once again, screaming, “PLEASE! I’m literally stranded!” When there’s not response, you huff out, “Ugh,” and walk along the porch to sit on one of the chairs they have laid out. A wet squelch is heard, and you cringe, pulling your feet up to take your socks off and tuck under you to warm up. It’s not long now before you start shivering, no longer focused on trying to survive the rain but now the cold.

Wiping the phone on the weather-proof cushion, you try to hold it up and around, aiming for reception. Is this cause for calling emergency? You feel like in a storm like this there are probably people who need more help, even if you feel like you’re going to freeze to death. You decide to wait, hoping that once the storm subsides then you can make it back to the road and get reception.

Your head is nodding and if you weren’t so cold, you think you could fall asleep. The rain hasn’t eased a single bit, actually you think it might be getting worse. The potted plants just off the porch are drowning and overflowing, what was part of the dirt road was now just looking like a a body of water. Occasionally, you hear movement inside and pray that the man from before has a change of heart; you think you saw the curtain move before.

You’re sniffling and crying when a pair of headlights shines through the rain and a large FWD comes barely into view. You watch in curiosity as a figure in a hood comes out, a grocery bag in hand and they casually yet swiftly walk to the porch. Their gum boots step onto the wood before they remove the hood, and you can see it’s a significantly taller man with grey hair – though not old, it was more like a pretty silver with green accents – his eyes notice you once his hood is gone and he seems shocked and confused.

You give a little wave, “Hi.”

Shuffling the keys in his pockets, he takes in your condition and turns his body towards you, walking over, his head motioning to the house as he speaks “Does he know you’re here.”

You shamefully nod, “Yeah.”

His shoulders sag and he exhales, the hand with his keys pinching the bridge of his nose as he thinks. Your heart leaps as he chucks his chin, “Come on, get inside before you freeze to death.”

You decided then that you would convert to him as a religion if you had to, this man was your saviour. You head in before him, leaving your shoes and socks outside, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He closes the door behind him and you have to fight not to sink to your knees, absorbing the warmth of the house, eyes lingering on the inviting fireplace in the living room to your right. He nods as you look back at him for silent permission, allowing you to huddle in front of it as he heads in what you can assume is the kitchen, a delicious smell coming from that area.

It’s not too long before you hear the other man shout out a, “WHY!?”

The nice man isn’t so quiet anymore, “Don’t act like I’m the monster. You can’t just leave someone helpless on our front porch.”

“She should have left,” he huffed, a clinking sound going echoing from the kitchen, “I wanted you to bring back cheese and wine, not a fucking pest.”

“Don’t start,” is retorted, sternly, “I went out in that for you, now you can do this for me.” With that, the conversation seems to end and the man that let you in comes towards you. Somewhere in between he has put on pink slippers, your toes would be jealous if they weren’t deliciously cooking in front of the fire. He sits with you, cross legged, “What are you doing all the way here, anyway? Didn’t you see the storm warning.”

You sheepishly scratch the back of your neck and look away, embarrassed at your lack of survival, “I was trying to make it to the next town before the rain. Unfortunately, it came quicker than the warning said.”

He seems irritated by this, “Stupid forecast. It’s like they have no idea how weather works here. Is there something important you need from the next town? Someone you’re meeting, maybe?”

You shrug, “I haven’t booked a hotel or anything – oh, I’m on my way back from visiting family, I’ve driven across the country to see them. I’m still a fair few hours away from home, though. My car got hit by a boar when the storm started. Actually! Do you have internet here? I have no reception, but I could at least contact someone and tell them where I am if I can get online.”

The man solemnly shakes his head, “The storm blew out most of the power, we’re on one of our generators. The internet isn’t working right now.”

“Ah, damn,” you sigh, snapping your fingers in defeat. A bright flash hits the ground outside, thunder booming loudly and making you squeak in fear. You look up to the man with glassy eyes, “Thank you so much again for letting me inside! My name is (Y/n), I can’t thank you enough.”

He didn’t smile, though you didn’t need to see his lips quirk up to know he was appreciative, the shine in his eyes enough, “Pleasure. I’m Alhaitham, the arsehole in there is Scaramouche.”

More grumbling comes from the kitchen which makes you giggle a little, still flustered from the interaction with him earlier, “I think he hates me. Do you two live here together? Is he your partner, housemate, friend…?”

“Husband,” he clarifies for you, standing from his place on the floor, “He has… issues with women, please don’t take it personally. Why don’t you have a shower while we get dinner ready? You must be freezing; I can get you some clothes to borrow.”

“A shower sounds like heaven,” you breathe out, gratefully. You stand and follow him, the house going up to a second storey where he leads you to a bedroom. There’s a rather large bed along the right wall, thick, closed curtains straight ahead, to the right of the bed; the window must be almost the length of the wall. To the left was both a walk-in closet and an open door that showed an en suit. Alhaitham looks you up and down before heading inside the closet and rummaging through the clothes.

He comes out with a pair of briefs, trackies and big shirt. He hands you the clothes and accidentally eyes your breasts for a mere second before averting, “I’m sorry, I can’t do much about a bra.”

You merely laugh, waving your hand dismissively, “Don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to have dry clothes.”

Following him out, he stops at a cupboard in the hallway and pulls out a light, blue towel to give to you. Eventually, you’re led to the bathroom. It’s a decent size, the sink to the left and the shower to the right, a little set of cupboards straight ahead. You had enough room to walk in and do your thing. Alhaitham stands at the door and says, “The lock doesn’t work properly, but we won’t come in. The hot water handle only needs to be turned the slightest bit, otherwise it will just douse you and scold you.”

You nod at him, “Thanks, I’ll try and remember.” With that, Alhaitham shuts the door, and you hear his footsteps retreat down the stairs. Sitting the clothes on the sink counter, you finally get a look at yourself in the mirror, and you cringe. Your face is red from the pelting of the rain, not to mention the tenderness of it from the cold. Your hair is frizzy, your eyes a little bloodshot, nothing out of the ordinary for someone caught out in a storm – ah, there’s a stick in your hair and as you undress, the scratches from the trees and bushes became clearer on your skin.

After a good assess at your yucky, mucky body, you pull back the shower curtain and get in, remembering not to turn the hot tap on too high and finding that warm sweet spot that you needed. You call almost fall asleep in the shower, swaying on your feet with your eyes closed. After a moment of content with the water washing over your cold and sore muscles, you finally open your eyes to see the options of soap. There aren’t many, only a 3-in-1 men’s body and hair wash, and one generic honeysuckle body scrub. Without much of a choice, you decide to use the 3-in-1 for your hair, and the honeysuckle to scrub away the dirt and grime on your skin.

The feeling of cleanliness is lethargic.

A good knock at the door has you jumping, your stomach dropping from the sudden sound. Despite the storm raging outside, it was muffled by the bathroom walls and shower, so you weren’t prepared for such a loud noise. Alhaitham’s voice comes through as he partially opens the door, “(Y/n)? I’m just going to grab your wet clothes and put them in wash for you, okay?”

Too startled to think of any other response, you reply with an awkward, “O-Okay!” You’re as still as can be as he walks into the room, his silhouette seen through the curtain. He’s swift in grabbing your dirty laundry, not even stopping to try and take a peek, it makes you feel silly for overreacting.

You don’t want to spend too long in the shower, unsure of how their water system works and if they even have unlimited hot water. You turn everything off once your feet stop feeling cold and get out, squeezing your hair and reaching for the blue towel. Taking your time to dry, you make sure you’re a lot more presentable as a guest, even if it’s with such awkward clothing.

The pants are close to fitting, and you have to wonder if they’re Scaramouche’s because Alhaitham’s would definitely be too long for you. The shirt must be his, coming far below your waist and a simple grey, the short sleeves close to your elbows; the briefs you have no idea. You have no hairbrush so you just comb through your knotty hair with your fingers, drying it with the towel until it wasn’t dripping and could dry on its own. Without knowing what to do with the towel you end up hanging it over a railing in the bathroom.

There are the sound of plates and cutlery being moved downstairs, the food smelling even better now that you were clean, warm and it was being prepared. After descending the stairs and turning into the dining room/kitchen area, your mouth-watering good mood is punched in the face when Scaramouche scowls, the neck of the bottle of wine he’s holding almost cracking under the pressure he grips it with, “You gave it my pants?!”

“Do not refer to our guest as an ‘it’,” Alhaitham scolds, though the tone in his voice is more tired than actually annoyed, “I also lent her your underwear.”

Well, that answered that question. Scaramouche’s face looked like it was about to detonate, his other hand cracking the wine glass he had. With a huff, he leaves to retrieve another.

Alhaitham opens the pot in the middle, and you can barely see the food. On the plates are mashed potatoes with little herbs in them, they looked creamy and smelt faintly of garlic. “Venison and red wine hotpot. Do you drink? We also have wine but I could get you something else if you’d prefer.”

You would feel kind of bad for taking their alcohol or any other treat drinks they may have after their kindness, plus you don’t want to risk Scaramouche poisoning you through a wine that you could hardly taste. You smile at him and politely say, “Just water is fine, thank you.”

“You wouldn’t get our wine anyway, we don’t share with freeloaders,” Scaramouche returns with a new glass, the previous one most likely in the bin.

Alhaitham pinches the bridge of his nose as he says, “I swear if you don’t stop I’m locking you out in the storm.”

You know it’s not really your fault, it’s just now that you’re sitting between the two and witnessing the tension, you feel like such a burden and you don’t want to put that stress on Alhaitham; Scaramouche you couldn’t care less. You wait until they both sit down, Scaramouche placing a serviette over his lap while Alhaitham just moves his to the side, before you start talking, “I know I’m being a problem right now, and I really am sorry for putting you both in this situation. I just-“

“And so you should be,” Scaramouche scoffs, eyeing you curiously, “Why the Hell were you out driving in this weather anyway? Did you not get the report? Or are you just that suicidal?”

He was really good at making you feel dumb, you pitifully jabbed at the meat in your meal, “I… I honestly thought I could make it to the next town, the weather guy said it wouldn’t be for another six hours so…”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, “No one believes meteorologists anyway. You really are just dumb.” Alhaitham sighs again, choosing to just dig into his meal rather than engage in another scolding.

You smile sadly, thinking how with the overall situation that you’re just lucky someone took you in at all. So, you laugh, agreeing with him, “Yeah, I guess I’m just glad this could be a life lesson and not an ending to one, huh?”

Alhaitham and Scaramouche make silent eye contact, their own form of communication going completely unnoticed by you.

As you finally take a bite, you feel giddy at the warmth in your mouth, helping you warm up, “This is really good! I know we have our differences, but, you’re a really good cook, Scaramouche!”

His face mellows out from the angry red to a flattered blush, though he acts like it’s common knowledge, “W-Well, of course I am. But don’t think you’re getting to taste it for free, you and Haitham can clean up afterwards.”

Seeing him a little more relaxed definitely made you feel calmer, your own shoulders slumping as you agreed, “Sure thing! It’s the least I can do.”

Alhaitham makes a comment about how it’s about time you both get along, before he moves on to how the people in town are so strung up lately, he couldn’t even buy what he wanted without getting dirty looks. Apparently, the nearest town doesn’t like outsiders to begin with, they bring bad luck. Are these two really outsiders if that town is their go-to for necessities, though?

“I wasn’t even aware of its existence,” you say, tilting the bowl to get the juice, meat and veggies into an easier to scoop position, “It’s not on either the refidex or google maps.”

Surprisingly, Scaramouche was the one to respond, his tone even casual and not spiteful to your existence, “Yeah, they had to fight the system when it came to online publicity. It was easy to get past the earlier refidex, though. Nowadays some tourists stop by but if you’re not actively on the lookout for interesting things then it’s very easy to miss.”

“The road there looks like a driveway,” Alhaitham states, refilling his wine glass, “It’s about a kilometre in until the forest turns to farmlands and you’re on a regular drive again.”

Not much else is said about the town, only that they’ve recently started opening up a little more to them. Apparently, there are some crazy conspiracies surrounding the area and they’re very superstitious.

Once dinner is done, Scaramouche retreats to their private bathroom to start running a bath. The weather outside wasn’t letting up, a bright flash of lightning hitting a little ways from the kitchen window. You jumped, the plate you were drying in your hand being clutched tightly. Alhaitham barely acknowledged it, continuing to wash the dishes as though it hadn’t have happened. “Do you normally get storms like this here?” You ask him, putting the plate away and grabbing another.

“They’re only this bad during this season. It does seem to rain a lot, and we get a fair bit of snow in the Winter,” he tells you, a slight frown at the thought of it, “I don’t care much for the cold, it doesn’t really affect me. The maintenance, however, is another thing…”

You purse your lips at the thought, it would probably be a lot to take care of on a mountainside such as this. “Does Scaramouche like the snow?”

He quirks his eyebrow at that, eyeing you from the side, obviously a little surprised that you’re curious about his partner that has done nothing but bully you. He looks back to the dishes before answering, “He likes it more than the thunder, but, otherwise I’d say he’s unphased. Curious more than anything.”

“Curious?” You echo, reaching for another dish to wipe dry, “Like its components?”

Alhaitham gives a faint laugh, “More like the psychology it brings. He treats others like they’re human and he’s a different species, saying something like, ‘The weather can really reveal a lot about the human psyche’. I don’t really care too much about it, he can think what he wants as long as he helps shovel the driveway.”

You giggle at that, “Well, if I get trapped up here in a snowstorm too then I’ll also help shovel the driveway!”

There’s a scoff by the archway leading to the hall, a one Scaramouche standing with rolled up sleeves and wet arms, “If you get trapped in a snowstorm here then I’ll see to it personally that you don’t make it inside.” On another note, he glances to his husband, “The bath is ready.”

Alhaitham nods, only a few more dishes to go, “I’ll join you shortly.” Scaramouche leaves once more as you both finish up, “Will the couch be okay? Our spare room is being repaired from certain… damages. The fireplace will stay on and I’ll grab you a proper blanket and pillows.”

Obviously, it wasn’t a question but more of a ‘you get the couch or you get nothing’. Even so, you could almost cry at his hospitality, “Yes, thank you so much! The couch is more than enough.”

He pulls out the plug and takes the tea towel from you hands once done, “Good, I’ll get you set up then.”

It’s so cosy here on the couch, the storm outside raging whilst you’re in here, nice, and warm. Normally, you would have some qualms being so relaxed in a strangers and house, and you think a lot about not sleeping because what if they’re sadistic murderers?? Your mind thinks to Scaramouche and you can’t help but shiver. Well, at least one of them probably is.

You tuck yourself further into the blankets and let your eyes flutter. Even if you just close them for a little bit, it should be fine… right?

…

It’s sunny when you awaken, a light clanking in the kitchen noticeable when you finally open your eyes fully. You can make out the sound of water drips outside, likely previous from the rain. With a stretch, you get yourself up and head over to the kitchen, peeking through to see Scaramouche pulling out some jars with what look like sugar, coffee and tea bags.

You take a deep breath and walk in, smiling, “Good morning! Did you have a good sleep?”

His eyes don’t portray that same glare they used to, though his stare was still cold and hard. He did give you the satisfaction of a reply, “It was good. Yours?”

Wow, he actually asked back? You can’t help the genuine grin as you reply, “Mine was perfect! I haven’t been this comfortable in a long time.”

Scaramouche seems taken aback by this, stopping what he’s doing to turn to you, “You literally spent the night on the couch, don’t you have a decent bed at home?”

You sheepishly look away, “Ah… It’s affordable.”

His reaction seems mad but you can tell there’s authentic concern, “Don’t you realise how important a comfortable and well-rested sleep is?! How can you get through the day if your body doesn’t take in enough hours to fully recharge? A good bed is one of the biggest steps in this, I would hate to see your daily routine.”

“Awh,” you blush, teasing him, “Are you worried about me? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t push it,” he bites, though with hardly any venom. He holds up a jar of coffee in one hand and a teabag in the other, “Which one you want?”

You point to your decision, “That one, please!”

He huffs and turns back around, grabbing out three cups to prepare for a morning drink. You can’t help but smile at how content this morning is, you thought it might be a little more awkward to wake up in a stranger’s house, however, with how friendly that even someone like Scaramouche can be, you actually feel okay.

Heavy steps trudge around the corner of the hall and into the kitchen, a very sleepy looking Alhaitham entering the room with a yawn, “’Mornin’.”

Before you can respond, Scaramouche spins around with a scowl, “You didn’t take the compost out last night.”

The tension in the air is palpable, though Alhaitham wasn’t showing any expression on his face, you note that his shoulders square up a little bit. He decides the best course of action is to ignore his husband and sit down beside you, “How was your sleep, (Y/n)?”

“Don’t shrug me off!!” Scara yells, causing you both to wince at the sudden raise in voice.

Alhaitham sighs, finally looking to him, “The mud was too thick, it was hard enough to walk to the front door, let alone into the forest. (Y/n), you walked up the mountain to get here, right? Tell him.”

Oh great, you’re getting dragged into this. Well, he wasn’t wrong. You nibble on your lip, unable to look at either of them in case they think you’re picking sides, “Uhhh, I did slip a few times, almost lost a shoe too…”

Scara just shakes his head, bringing over the finished drinks for you and Alhaitham. As he sets down his husband’s cup, he leans in and murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear but in a way that’s obviously meant to be private, “Haitham, you said you would take care of it.”

“It’s fine,” he replies, bringing the drink to his lips, the hot liquid barely touching his lips.

You try to show you’re not listening by finding a sudden interest in the grooves of the table, dragging your finger along each indent. Scaramouche sits at the end of the table, deciding to take his husband’s word for it and move on, “Anyway, are you going to take (Y/n) out today and look at the car.”

Alhaitham sits with the enjoyment of a warm cup of coffee in his hands, relishing in the heat, “If you’re volunteering to take my place then go for it.”

“I have to go into town because we have a parcel coming, so if you want to take that drive instead-“

“Actually, I should help (Y/n) since you don’t know much about cars anyway,” Alhaitham cuts in, effectively deciding for them.

Scaramouche smirks victoriously, “That’s what I thought, lazy bastard.”

Both of you wave Scara off and wait until he’s out of sight before Alhaitham turns to you with a plain look, “Okay, I’ve got my toolbox, now all that’s left is for you to lead the way.”

“Right!” You turn on your heel and look down the driveway, only for realisation to suddenly hit you. It was raining so heavily last night, honestly, you’re surprised you even made it as far as you did. Let’s see, you remember trudging up a sheer hill, and then… It was so muddy and there were a lot of trees. You exhale and give him solemn look, “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know the way. Everything looks the same up here.”

Instead of being annoyed or mad, he just gives you a gentle pat on the head, “I thought this might happen. How about we drive down to the main road and look around, if you slid off the road then there might be skid marks, damage to the environment, or if we’re lucky your vehicle will be easily seen.”

It was a great idea, but, you thought Scaramouche took the only car. “Do you have another car?”

“Something like that,” he replies, walking away and in the direction that’s behind the house. You follow him eagerly, coming to find a cleared out yard with no fence that leads directly into the forest, a thin-made path leading off to an area you can’t see through the thick trees. In the yard there was a tall, tin shed with the front wall gone, showing off loads of chopped wood and two vehicles that were covered over with a tarp – they were smaller than a usual car you saw in the city. Along the to the left of that wasn’t much else, a neat garden closer to the house, one half with vegetables and the other flowers. You could see the grass was absolutely flooded, thankfully the driveway extended to the shed. There were also two tree stumps with axes in them, and another, much smaller shed that was closed off.

Getting closer to the open structure has you seeing a little bit more, with shelves lined with toolboxes and even a workbench. You both don’t spend too much time with it as Alhaitham pulls off one of the old tarps to uncover a quadbike. “Oooo,” you clap your hands at the reveal, “This must make getting around the mountain a lot easier. What’s under the other one? A dirtbike?” He barely looks at you before just ripping off the other tarp, going off to lock the toolbox onto the quad. “WHOA.” It’s some form of highway motorbike, black and sleek and shiny, “I didn’t see you as a motorbike kind of guy.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “Me neither, honestly. But… there’s nothing like the experience of speed and freedom a motorbike can bring you. A few manuals later and there I was. I’ve had this one for about four years.”

You tap the handle with your index finger, the rubber feeling cold, though you’re scared to do anything else to it in case you do something wrong, “That’s amazing. I’m glad you’re able to find a hobby like this, even up here! It must be more dangerous riding on the mountain with all the winding roads.”

“It is, however, once you reach the bottom and towards that town we were talking about last night, the roads are pretty straight and long. Perfect for riding,” he tells you. You’re then caught off guard as he throws a helmet to you, your reflexes kicking on, “Unfortunately, we won’t be taking that one out today.”

Alhaitham gets on the quad and waits for you to settle yourself down behind him. It starts with a thrust and you consider wrapping your arms around him, though for now you’re fine just holding onto the bars next to you. It’s a lot steeper when on a bike, going down the driveway and over the multiple holes and bumps. Your clothes get messy again but what else can you expect. It’s not until you get to the road and the speed picks up that you decide to hold onto Al, feeling safer with your arms around him.

You start about a kilometre up the road before travelling down and in the direction, you were heading last night. Eventually you both see the beginning of skid marks, and wow you had gone farther than you thought when out of control. It felt so quick, like you had just lost the reign and flipped. The quad slows as you both keep an eye out for it, and despite the fact that Al probably saw it first, you gasp and point to the disturbance in flora, where your poor car now lay.

After hopping off, you run to the edge of the bank, your hands going to your head in stress as you try not to scream. It was completely ruined, the windows smashed, the roof dented and the car itself bathing in water that rose above the seat cushions. Going down there would be stupid, a decent amount of water still in the ditch. The car is done for, his toolbox won’t fix that. “I haven’t even paid it off, I still have ten months…” You try not to cry, taking deep breaths as you fan your face. “Was it really this bad? It didn’t feel this bad when I crashed.”

Alhaitham takes initiative and places his large hand on the small of your back, turning you around so that you aren’t facing the wreck, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. Is there anything else in there that you need right now?”

You nibble at your lip in thought, eyes darting, “Uhh, maybe, I have my suitcase in the boot with all my clothes, chargers, toiletries…” You turn back around to see that the boot itself was also caved, a tree log landed on it and now a pool of water had taken over.

“If that’s it then we can take care of that for you,” he tells you, leading you away from the wreckage.

With wide eyes you look up to him, “I’m not sure what you mean, but I already appreciate everything you’ve done. I just don’t know what to do now, maybe – oh shit I didn’t bring my phone, it’s still at the house. I should have a little charge left-“

“-(Y/n).” His warm hands on your upper arms halt your racing thoughts. It’s not until you’re able to calm down and actually look at him that you realise you’re crying. Last night you were just happy to be out of the rain, now you can see that things are about to get a lot worse. A drop of water hits the tip of your nose, the clouds collecting once more. It’ll probably rain again later, and your car will only be more submerged. Al gently rubs you, “Let’s get home first. You’re not on your own, okay? I’m not going to just leave you here.”

To rely so heavily on this stranger and his husband is really embarrassing, even so, you’re extremely grateful to have met people so kind.

You were now sitting in the living room with a hot chocolate in your hands, sulking in your own turmoil. The rain outside was starting to pick up again, though the nice sound did nothing to make you feel any nicer, only thinking about how your already ruined car is getting worse. How will you even get a tow truck up here? Would the town these two visit have a mechanic, or would they shun you for being an outsider like they say?

Scaramouche was unpacking some bags in the kitchen with Alhaitham, giving you some time to be by yourself. “Yeah, I saw it on the way out, figured it was hers,” Scara says, putting away some tins of tomato in the cupboard.

Alhaitham sighs in irritation, “You couldn’t have radioed and let us know ahead of time?”

Scara smiles condescendingly, “You’re so lazy. She would want to go see for herself anyway.”

“It’s productivity, not laziness. And not if you took a picture, maybe.” He can’t make eye contact because he knows he’s right, “I suppose it’s naught now. We need to figure out where to go from here; do we want to help her get home or do we keep her?”

Folding his arms over each other, Scaramouche raises his eyebrow to his husband, “Keep her in what way? Because you seem to be awfully chummy and concerned for her wellbeing.”

Alhaitham counters, “It’s not like you haven’t shown a shred of affection either. She hasn’t been here 12 hours and I see you’ve already picked up some feminine products.” They both look to the bag, where as well as things like pads and deodorant, there are also some specific hair products that neither of them would use, as well a warm looking jacket that seemed perfect for you.

His face goes a deep crimson at being called out, “You make such a big deal out of being a good host and when I finally do something nice, you have something to say. Can you just make up your mind already?”

Alhaitham smiles at the embarrassment of his lover, moving over to him to kiss his temple, “Let’s give it a few more days before rushing into anything. Maybe it’ll be nice to have a pet around.”

They wrap their arms around each other, almost embracing if not for Scara leaning back so he can look up into his eyes, “She might try to run before then.”

This time, Al kisses his lips before reassuring, “We’ll handle it as it comes.”

It’s official; your phone is dead. To make matters worse, the internet is still out and they don’t have reception right now, either. Apparently, it’s hard to any on a good day, let alone when the weather is like this.

The three of you are at the table now, eating a delicious meal that the two had prepared together this time – all whilst you were taking a nap. You really needed that nap, though, your emotions getting the best of you. Food tonight was a stir fry with rice, simple yet with the homegrown herbs it tasted all the more delicious.

You take a sip of your drink to clear your throat before you ask a question that has been on your mind, “How far away is the town from here?”

Scaramouche answers, a little defensively, “About 45 minutes, why? You want to leave that badly?”

You can’t tell if it’s a joke or not, so choosing the light-hearted way, you laugh, “No! Not at all, I was just thinking maybe I could walk there and see if they have anything that could help me. At the very least there should be reception.”

He rolls his eyes and digs at his meal, “You idiot. Do you not remember how high up you would have had to drive to reach here? Walking down would be a nightmare, let alone back up the mountain to come home. You would probably get mauled by wild animals before you make down. Don’t be so dumb, we’ll take you.”

You feel flustered at his offer, twiddling your thumbs, “You guys have done so much for me already. If you’d like to drop me off I am sure I can make it on my own from there-“

Al holds his hand up to stop you, “Like Scara said, don’t be so dumb. You’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like. In fact, you have to stay until you’re safe. We’re not dropping you in some unknown place by yourself.”

The smile that comes to your face is involuntary, his warmth reaching you and making you feel as secure as you could be in this situation, “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

It was your second night here, the fireplace on and the couch made up. They were offering to organise a mattress upstairs but you declined, the couch was pretty comfortable and more than enough for you. The rain outside was not as heavy as it was last night, though the lightning and thunder had stayed just as aggressive.

Still, it made for a nice atmosphere as your eyes dropped, slowly closing and your body sinking further into the cushions - *THUD*.

A sudden noise made your eyes widen, it was dim and you thought it might’ve been a hallucination from your tired mind. Then you hear a clinking sound, and suddenly the porch light comes on. You hone your hearing and think you hear the handle of the car door thud against the vehicle, unable to open because it’s locked. The lightning flashes and you’re greeted with the silhouette of what must be the car and what looks just like a human head.

Was someone trying to steal their car? Your immediate reaction is to get up and slowly make your way towards the curtains. You should probably just alert the men upstairs but what if you’re wrong? What if you’re just seeing things from the spooky atmosphere? Your hand reaches out to the curtains, trying to move it without giving yourself away, when the opening of a door and the fast paced footsteps of the men come rushing down the stairs.

Your face heats up at the near naked Alhaitham, wielding two hatchets and making a beeline for the front door. His eyes dart to yours for a second as he orders, “Stay inside, don’t look out.”

Your lips part in uncertainty, wondering what the issue could be. It must be dangerous if he has two weapons. Scaramouche is right behind him, doing up the strings of his dressing gown before splitting off in your direction to make sure you do as your told. You look up to him in confusion and worry, “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

He wraps an arm around you, the sentiment catching you completely off guard, though it must be important since he isn’t even batting an eye about it, “I’m not sure. Just do as Haitham says, got it? He’ll take of it.” Under his breath you hear him mutter something about how he’ll catch a cold, going out in nothing but his underwear.

You purse your lips and look back towards the curtains, hoping for another flash of lightning to showcase any scene. To your wishes, it does, and you see Alhaitham with his hatchets, one raised and poised for a throw. He does, though you can’t hear anything as thunder booms through the home, closer than it was before. Scara quickly guides you away, sitting you back on the couch and holding your hands in his, “You’re not scared, are you? It must have been shocking to see us running down like this.”

You blink, and suddenly you notice how you must look. You can feel how the colour has left your cheeks, and how your heart is a little faster and breathing shallower. With a crooked smile, you shake your head, “Nuh-uh. I just hope everything’s okay. Has this happened before?”

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, “Yeah, kind of. We’ll explain when he gets back. I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, you just stay here, okay?”

Scaramouch gets up to turn the kettle on, only getting that far when heavy footsteps are heard on the porch. You sit up and wait, seeing as Scara rushes over and opens the door. You hear another annoyed tsk from him before he steps out. Curiously, you get up to head over, hoping to see if everything is okay.

The door is ajar and with the porch light on, you can see the back of Scara and the front of Alhaitham. Your eyes widen as you notice he’s not only wet from the rain, but, that’s definitely blood splattered on his face and torso. “A wild animal,” he says, and you feel yourself cringe when he makes eye contact with your through the door, “Injured. I’ll have to go and finish the job.”

Your eyebrows furrow and you step out, feeling like it doesn’t matter since you’ve been spotted anyway, “But it’s dangerous and cold and you could get into some serious trouble! As bad as this sounds, shouldn’t you wait until the day?”

“There’s no time,” he says, pushing past Scara, who is glaring at you from moving from your position. He reaches around the doorframe to grab a jacket and boots, “I’ll be using a rifle, so when you hear a bang it’s just me. Scara, can you please grab me one of the radios from the laundry, I’ll keep in touch.”

“Yeah, sure, just don’t get the house dirty,” he says before hurrying off down the hall.

You take your time to look at him, your concern easily readable. Alhaitham gets your attention with a soft but firm, “Hey.” You look up, taking your eyes away from the blood and meeting his gaze, “None of it is mine. It’s just part of life on the mountain.”

Anxiously, you dig your thumb nail into the tips of your fingers, “Just… Please be careful. I may not be used to this kind of lifestyle but it seems pretty stupid to go out hunting right now.”

You weren’t aware it could happen, but, Alhaitham smirks at you. Scaramouche comes back with a walkie-talkie and hands it to his husband, before Al gives you once last nod, “Don’t worry about it, just make sure I get a nice, hot drink when I come back too, okay?”

“And a bath,” Scara adds, “Now, I’m closing the door, it’s too cold to have open.” When the door is closed, he looks at you like he wants to berate you for moving, however, he decides against it and instead grabs your hand to pull you along to the kitchen, “Come on, let’s leave it to him.”

Scaramouche makes sure the curtains above the sink are fully closed, perhaps in case you end up seeing something you don’t want to; it wouldn’t be nice to have to watch Alhaitham take down an injured animal. You end up at the table with a hot drink and a sewing tin of biscuits between the two of you. Picking out a sugar cookie, you admire the way the crystals reflect in the light, “Does Alhaitham always end up chasing wild animals at night?”

The way Scara’s lips curled back in a sadistic smirk had shivers running down your spine, “Oh no. Sometimes we do it together, most of the time I go out on my own so he be lazy and stay in bed.”

“It happens that often?” You ask, almost incredulously, “That sounds tiring and horrible. Maybe you should get an… Do mountain exterminators exist?”

He pops a small biscuit into his mouth, shrugging, “We like the fun. This mountain is our home, we know the ins and outs better than any person and any creature.”

“How long have you been living here?”

“About 15 years,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Perhaps it’s not, but, you have had to move three times in the last four years, maybe it’s more of a city thing.

The two of you continue to talk and drink as Al does his thing, maybe twenty minutes late you hear a gun shot and Al’s voice over the radio, “It’s dead.”

You wince, looking into the remnants of your cup, “Did it hurt?”

Scara clicks the button and repeats, “She wants to know if it hurt.”

There’s a low chuckle on the other end, “Well, I’ve got one or two scratches.”

“Not you, dumbass,” Scara replies, rolling his eyes.

Al comes back with, “Shot it right between the eyes, instant death, no pain. I’ll clean up here and head back, see you soon.”

You watch Scara put the walkie talkie down, your curiosity getting the better of you, “I wonder what animal it was. What kind do you get up here?”

He goes to put the kettle on again, this time preparing a cup for Alhaitham as well, “Ah, the usual. Mountain lions, wolves, bears…”

You cringe in your seat, “How do you survive out here, that sounds terrifying.”

“It’s perfect for our lifestyle. No neighbours, no visitors, well, apart from lost stragglers looking for directions. Every so often we get someone wanting to try out the scenic route rather than the highway, it rarely ever ends well.” He mixes up the hot chocolate, pulling out a carton of milk and shaking it to make it foamy, “Speaking of, why did you come this way? Why not the quickest way home?”

With a lacklustre laugh you say, “I guess I was one of those ‘scenic route’ people. The guys at the bar I was at were telling me I’d make it to the next town easy if I left pretty early. I’m wondering if they meant the town you guys visit?”

“I doubt it,” he says, waving his hands nonchalantly, “Like I said, not many people know about that place, and those who do… Well,” he turned to you with the most evil, mocking grin, “They never return!”

The lightning that came after was what shocked you, his timing impeccable. You couldn’t help but laugh, “That was amazing! How did you know it would strike then?”

Before he could answer, the front door opens and he rushes to the entryway, “Hold it!” A cupboard opens, it slams, the sound of rustling and a flop on the ground, “Let me put down some towels so you don’t make the floor all wet. I know you’re not going to clean it up.”

Alhaitham does what he’s told, coming around the corner with a towel around his waist and nothing else. You shiver at the exposed skin, “Aren’t you cold? Go get changed.”

“It’s fine,” he tells you, and as he speaks you notice the smudges of blood on his body that had been run by the rain, “I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay. It must have been daunting to watch us run out like that, as well as hear all that commotion.”

You smile at his concern, “It was definitely different compared to the gunshots and sirens in the city, but, I’m more concerned about you. What animal was it?”

His shoulders seemed to relax once he knew you were okay, “Just a bear that was getting ready for hibernation, it was quite thin, I don’t think it would have made it through the Winter anyway.”

“Don’t try and make yourself out to be a hero, you’re worse than all of us,” Scara scoffs, throwing a hair towel on his head, “Go have a shower.”

Al listens to his lover and you’re left alone with Scara once more, who starts on preparing his drink for when he returns. You yawn, and he makes a comment that you don’t need to keep yourself up, that you can go back to bed. You shake your head rest on the table, “No, no, it’s fine. I’m not even that tired…”

The next day you’re being driven into town. You don’t remember getting back to the couch, Scaramouche telling you Alhaitham had carried you and tucked you in. You felt so embarrassed, making a mental note to thank him when he wakes up.

That would have to wait until later, as he was still sleeping when Scara and you left. You give a moping look at your car as you drive past it, sighing and leaning against the window to watch the clouds in woe. There are a lot of puddles and water, as you got further down the mountain and to the fielded areas, you can see just how flooded they are, a lot of the paddocks muddy and glistening in the sun from the layer of water.

Your trip is rather quiet, but, not uncomfortably so. You decide to take this time to think about what you need. A phone charger, for starters, even without the contacting aspect, you’re just bored without your device. Maybe some more underwear, they had to guess your size before so you might find something a little more comfortable.

Thinking took up most of your time, daydreaming for the most part, so you were pleasantly surprised when you noticed the town come into view. There was a sign that had tape over it, so you couldn’t read the name. A few houses were littered on the sides of the road, a post office, the further you went in the more you saw. It was a bit bigger than you expected, they had a shopping mall, across from it was a large playground, a school, and a field for sports.

Everyone who was outside was looking at you, staring at the vehicle as though they held some type of grudge. “They’re really not happy to see us,” you say, sinking into your chair a little bit.

Scaramouche scoffs, making a particularly harsh turn, “They probably hate that I brought an outsider in. Don’t sweat it, I won’t let them be too harsh on you.”

“I… Appreciate that,” you say, taking note of his little smirk. You haven’t known him long but you can already tell that he’s going to be amused by any little embarrassment you get by making a fool of yourself in front of these people.

A mechanic comes into view and you perk up, it doesn’t look busy but the garage doors are open and you see a few people in blue overalls working on a lifted buggy. Scara pulls into the driveway and everyone immediately stops and pays attention to you. You wait until Scara steps out before following, suddenly losing nerve. A man with a grey beard, fuzzy eyebrows and shoulder-length, grey hair steps forward, wiping the grease from his hands onto a rag, “Mr. Scaramouche, here for more product for Mr. Alhaitham?”

They did their best to ignore you, some of the younger ones looking at you with a wary gaze. Scara shakes his head, “No, actually, we’re here for her.” A brief glance to you, though they don’t linger, “Do you guys do car rentals? Or would we have to buy a whole new car if she needed one?”

“Unfortunately, she’d need to buy a new car. No one at the moment is selling theirs so we’d have to call in from out of town,” the man tells him.

You swallow thickly and decide to speak up, not wanting to make Scaramouche to all the talking, “How long would that take?”

He looks to you with uncertainty, his eyes moving to Scaramouche as though to ask for confirmation if he’s allowed to talk to you. Your lips curl in a frown, this town really is weird. Once Scara nods, he awkwardly replies to you, “Between three to six weeks.”

You blanch at this, turning to Scara and saying, “Maybe I should just charge my phone first and try and call one of my friends.”

He raises his eyebrow at you and asks, “Is that what you want to do?”

“Well, I can’t wait for that long…” You tell him, sighing in defeat at the outcome.

Scara places a hand on your back and turns you around for a bit more privacy, “If you want a new car, Alhaitham and I can get it cheaper much cheaper here than you would be able to in the city. It’s generally not as expensive anyway, but, Al is a good customer for this place so he frequently gets discounts.” At your hesitance, he takes a step back to give you some breathing room, “How about we go back and discuss this with Al first, take some time to consider your options.”

You nod at this, “Yeah, yeah sounds good.” You’ll also message your friends and family to get some perspective. With a smile, you tell the mechanics, “Thank you so much!” Maybe they just need a friendly face.

They didn’t make eye contact, merely nodding in acknowledgement.

“I think you should buy a new car while you have the opportunity,” Al says once you fill him in on all the details. He’s spraying a plant on the windowsill in the kitchen, one you had thought was fake, “I can get it cheaper, and it’ll be safer and stop you from having to worry about that stuff when you get home.”

You feel nervous, a little bit because you don’t want to put this pressure on them having to host you for another six weeks, and a little bit because you’re starting to get homesick. “Even though it could take so long? Are you sure you want to put up with me?”

He places the spray bottle on the bench and undoes the back of his pink apron, a funny sight that opposes his nonchalant expression, “We’re not ‘putting up’ with you, if we weren’t comfortable having you around then we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

With your lips in a taught line, you turn to look at Scaramouche, who was still in the doorway fiddling with his car keys. He rolls his eyes and stands up straight, “You’re tolerable to have around. Not as noisy as the last one.”

“The last one?” You question, now confused, “You’ve had to do this all before?”

Alhaitham lightly scolds him under his breath and Scaramouche has the audacity to look at you like you’re the problem! As though you were the one to inquire about their life, and not him bringing it up. Scaramouche turns his back on you and walks to the entryway to finally put his stuff away, Alhaitham having to answer, “We get a lot of visitors here who aren’t ready to travel the mountain. Our last one was a woman with an exceptionally shrill scream, someone from the city who couldn’t handle so much as a fly buzzing by her head.”

“Don’t even get me started on the fucking deer,” Scara returns, pulling out a chair to sit and speaking in a high-pitched, scratchy voice, “’Are those teeth growing out of its head?!’ ‘Ahhhhh it’s getting closer!!’ I couldn’t believe she was real.”

You giggle at his reenactment, “That was pretty good, sounds just like my friend’s sister. She hates wildlife, too.” You can’t afford to get too off track, so you quickly try and go back to the subject at hand, looking to Alhaitham, “I’m not very good when it comes to cars, and I don’t have a lot of money backed up. But, if you really do think this is a good idea, well, you haven’t led me astray yet.”

He smiles to you, seeming more relaxed, “Good, we’ll talk more about it at dinner, then. Would you like to help Scara with baking bread? He could use a sous chef.”

The smaller man furrows his brows, huffing, “Stop making decisions and forcing me to babysit.” His cheeks slowly start to burn, he doesn’t make eye contact, but he does start preparing the benches and addressing you, “I guess you can, just don’t get in my way.”

Alhaitham gives you a smile as he pats your shoulder, leaving the two of you to your baking.

It’s been almost two weeks, and you were settling in nicely, feeling almost like this was your new home. You were also currently surrounded by couch cushions and had your fingers wedged between the cracks of the lounge.

Alhaitham walks in, a flash of confusion barely flitting across his face before he speaks, “Looking for your phone again?”

“I know I brought it home from the town!” You reply, knowing his next response was most likely going to be regarding you dropping it when you went to the mechanic. A grunt leaves your lips as you rip your fingers back from the couch and sit on the floor, frazzled and annoyed and frustrated tears collecting in your eyes, “I can only think it slid down the couch when I was sleeping, or if I left it on the bench in the kitchen. Do you guys seriously not have mobiles?”

He analyses the pleading and desperate look on your face, and if he were a kinder person, he may feel a sense of regret or compassion. Instead, he shakes his head, “Scara and I rely on our radios. The only phone here is the landline and that got fried during a storm.”

You cannot believe this was happening. The two were checking in with the mechanic on your new car when they went to town, which took that necessity out of your hands. The only issue with not having a phone is the lack of contact you have with your friends and family. You were supposed to arrive home over a week ago, of course everyone would be worried by now. The town nearest to you doesn’t have any payphones and Scaramouche and Alhaitham are reluctant to take a day trip to the town you came from just to at the very least use the phone in the tavern. You can understand it, the trip probably six hours there, a moment to rest and call, and then six hours back. You suggested staying the night in a motel, like a holiday, but they denied you for a plethora of reasons you couldn’t help but feel petty about.

The conversation is brought to an abrupt end as the front door is barged open, a frazzled Scaramouche walking in a direct line to Alhaitham. He goes to talk, then notices you and gives you and you’re a pillows a weird look, before his attention refers back to Al, “We need to talk, privately.”

You stare wide eyed, wanting to know so badly what has him like this. Another wild animal? No, he wouldn’t be that out of breath for it. Intruder maybe? Then why not deal with it immediately, not talk about it privately? You have no idea what could warrant a reaction like this. Unfortunately, you won’t get to know, Alhaitham telling you to wait there as the two make their way up stares. You don’t hear much, essentially you hear nothing. It’s not long before Alhaitham returns and nods towards you, “We’re going camping tonight.”

You’re taken aback, the sudden suggestion (demand?), making your mind reel, “H-Huh?” What the hell happened to warrant this?

Scaramouche comes down the stairs, and as if sensing your distrust he relents, annoyed, “Alhaitham’s family is visiting, I saw them in town. We hate them. I’m going to try and convince them to leave while you and Alhaitham hide in the forest.”

Flabbergasted. That’s the best word to use. “That’s pretty round-about, don’t you think? Why not tell them to go away?”

“You think they’re just going to leave after driving this far? At the very least they’ll want to rest here for a while, it’s better if we camp out,” Alhaitham says, opening a linen cupboard in the hallway to retrieve blankets.

“Why not come with us then, Scara?” You ask him, confused as to why he’d put up with such ‘annoying’ people and not just hide away as well.

He shook his head, “These people are relentless, they’ll scour the area if they see so much as one car here. It’ll be better this way.”

Scaramouche really hopes you’ll buy, they don’t want to resort to drastic measures… yet. If you knew about the conversation they had privately then you’d probably run head first down the driveway.

. “Police? That was faster than we expected,” Alhaitham muses, hand to his chin in deep thought.

“How can you be so calm? They’re investigating the car wreck as we speak, we don’t have much time.” Scara hisses, digging his thumb nail into the pads of his fingers to ease some built up tension, “We have to get her out of here or everything will be ruined.”

Al puts his hand up to halt his worries, “We can use this. The car is a total mess. They’ll think she stumbled out, barely surviving, and then got jumped by some wild animal and eaten. We just have to play our cards right.”

Scaramouche takes a deep breath, his smile strained and unpleasant, “Okay, then what do you suggest we do? Clock’s a-ticking.”

His partner crosses his arms, “I’ll take her out camping tonight while you deal with the officers. Make up some BS about family coming or something, after all, that’s not too out of the ordinary for one of us to split at a time like that.”

“Great, so I get to deal with the police while you have a nice night with (Y/n),” Scara pouts.

Al smiles, leaning down to peck his pursed lips, “I’ll make it up to you when we return.” .

…

No fire tonight, the light would be a hindrance if the family did decide to look around without Scaramouche. That being said, it was freezing. You were shivering in a jacket, over a jumper, over a shirt. You were also squatting behind a bush, trying to pee while Alhaitham stood guard. After that bear fiasco, you were quite timid of the forest now.

Apparently, you were also pee shy. You decided to try and alleviate your own tension, “Will we be safe in the tent? What if an animal decides to rip it open?”

He shifted in his spot, sighing, the heat from his mouth would be visible in the dark if the moon were able to shine through the canopy, “Don’t worry, if anything were to happen, I know how to scare them off. Been out here for a long time.”

“Still…” you turn back to make sure he was at the same distance, making eye contact as he had the idea to check on you. You blushed, though you couldn’t see his expression clearly, you knew his head was at least looking over his shoulder, “Don’t look at me!”

“Well, hurry up then. I want to go back to the tent,” he groaned, toeing at a stick by his foot.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes so you could focus entirely on peeing now. It worked, eventually, though it was still weird to be squatting here with him behind you. When you finished, you followed him back to the tent, holding his hand so you don’t get left behind and lost.

Alhaitham opened the zipper and let you in first, following suit. You both got comfy once more, snuggling up to him under the piles and piles of blankets. It was tense, at least for you, it didn’t feel okay to be doing this. Reading your mind, Al began petting your back, holding you tighter against him, “It’s fine. We can tell Scaramouche tomorrow so you know it’s okay, he’s not going to get jealous. If anything, he’ll be jealous of me for being the one to hold you.”

Your lips parted in surprise, “Jealous of you?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, chin over the top of your head, “It’s not every day cute, lost thing like you walks into our arms.”

He sounds tired, a little out of it from being woken up by you to use the toilet. Because of that, you let it go, mumbling a small, “Don’t be dumb,” before trying to go back to sleep, able to picture the smug look on his face from your reaction.

The next moment you wake up is when Alhaitham is moving about the tent, putting on his boots. It’s still very dark, though you can assume it’s after midnight. He grabs a torch and a gun, and that’s when you see a torch light shining through from a distance. “Don’t move,” he whispers, turning to make sure you heard him, “Just stay hidden and quiet.”

You nod, looking back to the light, a little scared of the possibilities, “Could be Scara?”

“He would have radioed,” he informs, slowly opening the zipper, “We get vagabonds up here sometimes, usually people who want to dump something or cause trouble.”

You go silent, clutching at the blanket in deep thought, “Are you going to be okay? Maybe you should radio Scara first.”

“No, it’ll be too loud. I’ll go see what’s up, please don’t leave,” he asks again, eyeing you down until you hide under the blankets again.

Al steps away, his quiet footsteps unheard in only a matter of time. You sit up, too scared to lay there and do nothing. Then again, sitting there and doing nothing doesn’t help either. To be more accurate – there’s nothing you can do. You have no weapon, no courage, and you don’t know the land well enough. A more likely scenario is that his family decided to come looking, right? Right! That’s got to be it-

A bright light shines in the tent, blinding you and you quickly hide under the blankets again. “Someone’s in there,” a man whispers, before shining the light at the tent again and speaking at you, “Excuse me, we’re officers from Durio, two towns over. Come out with your hands in view.” You stay silent, too scared to respond, though mainly because you’re hoping that they will second-guess if they saw anything. It doesn’t work, “Come out now, with your hands in view, or we will be pressed to use force.”

Another torch from behind and you know you’re screwed. You sit up, voice timid and shaky, “A-Are you really police?” Not that a criminal wouldn’t lie, you just can’t believe the situation you’re in.

“We are,” he answers immediately, “We just want to talk to you.”

You do comply, slowly and shakily unzipping the tent and crawling out, after putting shoes on first of course. The light is moved from your eyes, and you hear a gasp from a woman next to you, all in officer uniforms. There were two people here, “It’s her,” she says.

The man seems to take in your appearance. You don’t look like you’ve been surviving out here for weeks, lost or confused, even really distressed except for the sudden intrusion of them. “Are you (Y/n) (L/n)?” You nod, keeping your mouth shut, the officer holding a hand to his head, “I honestly didn’t expect to find anything up here. You’d be lucky to find remains in these mountains, let alone a full person.”

Should he be saying that while you’re standing here? “You’re looking for me?” You ask, folding your arms over your chest to stave off the cold. He nods, “Your family is worried sick. The only idea we had was that you came this way on your way home and got lost in the mountains. It’s not uncommon, this place a death trap for tourists.”

Your eyes lighten up, hands clasping together in a new hope, “My family! They actually filed a report? Oh my goodness, can I please call them? My phone died weeks ago and-“

The radio on the officer’s belt produces static before a frantic voice, some younger man, comes through, “J-Jack, Jack holy fuck are you there? I need you.”

The man plucks it off his belt, bringing the mic to his mouth, “Jimmy, what’s going on?”

“I- I don’t know. There’s… Bodies everywhere. Some still moving, parts not connected, I’m going to –“ it cuts off, the beginning of vomit being heard before he is cancelled out by the radio. After a moment, Jack asks for the coordinates and Jimmy relays them.

“Carol, are you able to look after her?” Jack chucks his head when referring to you.

Carol nods, pulling the torch from looking inside the tent to focus on you, “Of course.”

You’re given instructions to listen to Carol as you all walk in some direction. You’re more zoning out, thinking about how scared your family and friends must be, what that radio message meant, and, oh! “Alhaitham! I’m with someone, where is he?”

“There’s another person?” Jack questions, scowling, “Friend?”

“Yeah,” you answer with no hesitation, “Him and his husband have been looking after me. They live in the house near here. Did you see it?”

Jack and Carol share a look, silent and tense, before Jack says, “Stay in the car, I’ll-“

Gun shots go off, interrupting him and making you all flinch. They weren’t necessarily close, but, they could easily get closer. Carol hurries to take you towards some ‘home-made’ path they had driven up, the police car a four-wheel drive of some kind. She gets you in the back, the doors unable to be opened from the inside as she gets in the passenger seat. She’s quick to grab the radio in the car, “Sho-“

Another gunshot, this one closer and blowing the glass of the window open. You scream, scrambling back as her head detonates open, the grain between the front and the back shielding you from the chunkier parts of her, though the mist of her blood still sprays through and over your face. Your main thought is to duck, and you wanted to, though you couldn’t stop your crying over shock when you realised who had done it.

Scaramouche seemed more annoyed than anything, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he opens the door and pulls her body out. He’s holding a shotgun, the light inside the car illuminating his figure and showing he already had some blood coating him, not from Carol. “Stop crying,” he tells you, though he obviously doesn’t expect you to follow through, “I’ve moved the body, see? I’m not going to shoot you.”

You can’t talk, you think you ask why, you’re sure you asked why he shot her, but it doesn’t register until answers.

He says, “Now’s not the time to be explaining things. I’m not going to let you out until Alhaitham and I are done hunting. Don’t worry about a thing, you’re safe in here.”

Scara closes the door, leaving you alone in a car that you can’t escape. The headlights are still, the blood, brain, skull and hair pieces of the woman over the dashboard, the car having a slight smell to it now. You want to throw up but you can’t, you can’t do anything but rock back and forth as you realise that you’re fucked.

To make matters worse, the radio in the car would produce static every so often, a broken voice coming through to ask if anyone was there. You were there, you weren’t even a metre away and yet you were hopeless. You couldn’t kick the door open or the mesh screen, there was absolutely nothing. It was exhausting to be so scared, you think the best option would be to hide on the floor until someone eventually came for you.

Hit. As you were starting to slide down, someone smacked their palm against the window on the opposite side of the card. You jump at the noise, leaning against your door as you stared wide eyed. Thanks to the minimal light from the headlights, you can see a man standing with his face against the window. His eyes are wide and his palms are covered in wet soil. He opens the door and you see that he’s naked and malnourished, large cuts over random parts of his body. His beard is untrimmed and his hair is falling out in patches, leaving odd bald spots. “Wh-Where – the police?” He breathes out, stammering and shaking. “More cops?”

You hope he doesn’t get in with you, the last thing you want is to be trapped in the back of a cop car with someone possibly unstable, even though he clearly needs help. You also don’t want him to run alone with Scaramouche and possibly Alhaitham helping him. You scoot in a way that your whole body faces him, hoping to be a little less closed off, “I don’t know… We can look for them?”

His eyes dart down, most likely to the body of the female. He gulps and steps away, leaving the door open, “Not safe. Get the fuck out of here, not safe!”

You can’t scramble out fast enough before he sprints into an unknown direction. You make an effort not to look at the woman, already noticing part of her neck as you get out. Since you didn’t see which way the man went, you could only make an assumption. He appeared to come from the left of the car, so, maybe you should go right. It was almost impossible since the night was so dark, the canopy thick and the clouds even thicker.

It’s not until you’re well into the forest that you regret not searching the body or car for a weapon. You feel so stupid. What the hell is even going on, the more you think about the recent weeks, the worse you feel. How could you blindly trust these people so easily? How could you accept to stay in their home for an unplanned amount of time with no contact to the people you do know? It seemed like at the time you didn’t have an option. No car. No phone. Nowhere to go.

If you die tonight, perhaps it won’t be a shock.

Similar to the first night you came here, you see a dull light ahead of you. They did say they had a small barn near their home, maybe you could find something in there? You highly doubt it’s a neighbour or anything, and it’s too small to be their house. You’re not sure if it’s stupid to go there, or if it would be better to hide in the foliage somewhere. Hearing another gun shot in the distance rooted your opinion to head into the barn. It was hard to tell from which direction they came since the forest seemed so densely packed.

The atmosphere here was not nice. You could hear dripping, chain-like clinks, shuffling from inside. The door was hitting the frame with every gust of wind and a trail of blood was wiped along the gravel in front of it as though something had been dragged. Another clink of chain, then a voice. “The reception here is horrible,” he says, and you recognise it to be one of the officers’ from the tent. Ja-something. Jack? You think it’s Jack. “You can’t run,” he says, “It’s safer here until we get backup.”

A heavy clunk drops to the ground and you hear Jack call out to wait before the doors are slammed open and you’re knocked back on your feet. You look up in a daze to see another naked man, this one a little meatier, who kicks you away with a scream and runs out into the darkness. Effort grunts from your lips as you roll over, the kick ending up in your ribs and causing you a bit of pain, perhaps less from the fear and adrenaline.

Eyes lock onto Jack’s first, and the hand he had to his gun slowly lowered as he realised it was you. Then, you were shocked to see the rest of the ‘barn’. Body bags hung from the ceiling, some upside down with blood dripping into a canister. Slabs of meat, torsos gutted and cut in half, only ribs and an arm to show it was human had been laid out in a tall freezer that took up half the wall on one side. Another freezer next to it with other miscellaneous parts. There were people in cages, chained up, feeding troughs and hooks through their ankles as an additional, sadistic entrapment. That’s only the main eye catchers, the more you look the more you saw, how filthy certain areas are with dried blood and dirtied tables of tools, while other areas, like the stainless steel ‘kitchen’ was kept rather clean.

Jack is now in front of you, kneeling to your level when his voice goes from a numb noise in the back of your mind to something you can register. You dazedly look at him, lips never closing from the distress, “What?”

“Are you okay?” He repeats and when you nod your head, because it’s the only response you can think to do, he then asks, “Why are you out here? Where’s Carol – the woman who was with you?”

You look behind him and see another male officer on the floor, half of his head gone and as well as his leg almost severed at the knee. “I’m sorry,” you take a breath for the first time and then get hit with a nausea inducing smell, “She’s dead.”

Jack sags, hopelessly. Under his breath he murmurs, “She had only been with us for a few months…” Profession comes back, he switches places so you’re no longer looking into the barn, rather you can now focus on him without the gory scene in the background, only pitch-black night. It was daunting, though probably better. “Do you have any idea what is going on? We have hardly any intel on this place, the area wiped like it’s off any map. The locals were cold, and this mountain has a history of missing persons. I guess we know where they go now…”

Did everyone in the town know this was what Alhaitham and Scaramouche were like? That would explain their odd behaviour, more like it’s the only explanation you can think of right now. It was weird, but another sudden thought hit you that shouldn’t matter right now – they were never going to help you get home. All that talk of assisting you with a car, the smiles at dinner, the sympathetic hugs, it was all fake. Why was it at this moment it had you crying? Sobbing into the embrace of the officer. “I-I don’t kn-know,” you hiccup, leaning into his touch, “I thought they were so- so nice to me.”

“It’s okay,” he breathes out, gently stroking your back. It wasn’t okay, none of this is okay, what else can you say though?

You hear someone shift in the background, the few people in the barn unaware of what to do. So, you ask, “What do we do now?”

Jack shifts through radio numbers but it all turns to static, “Our radios aren’t strong enough in these mountains and no one nearby is picking up. Training says I should contact emergency services, but I can’t do that without leaving everyone here and I’m not strong enough alone to take them with me.”

A thought joins you, “They use radios to communicate with each other. There are four in total, two always on charge. If we can get back to the house, then maybe we could use one with a stronger signal.”

“The house,” he mimics, deep in thought, “I was using a compass to keep my bearings, but I lost it at some point. Do you know where the house is?”

You shrug, though try your best to explain, “The barn was always ‘up the mountain’, so I assume if we go down then eventually, we could find it.”

“I see,” Jack says, nodding at your answer. He places his hands on your shoulders, his chocolatey brown eyes keeping your attention, “I’m sorry to have to ask you this, but it’s too dangerous for both of us to go. Can you please stay here and I’ll do my best to be right back.”

Your heart lurches and your body trembles at the thought of being alone again, especially in a place like this.

He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to comfort, “I know it’s scary, but I don’t want to risk you getting hurt or killed.”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Scaramouche scoffs, as if the words out of the officer’s mouth were absolutely absurd.

You both whip to see him come into the little light the barn produced, his shotgun carelessly hanging from his arm. The officer is quick to take advantage of the situation, grabbing his own gun and getting into an aiming position, though he isn’t fast enough as Alhaitham steps out and shoots his hand off. You jump at the damage, frantically trying to think of how to help this poor man when Alhaitham speaks your name. With a pause, you slowly look up at him, the gun not pointed at you but the officer, “Come here. Get away from him.”

Your vision blurred, lips wobbling and knees quaking as you question them, “Why? What is going on?”

Scara sighs, he puts down his gun and steps to the side of Alhaitham, his arms opening and inviting you closer to show he’s no threat, “I promise we’ll tell you everything. Now, come over here or else Alhaitham will blow that man’s brains out of the back of his skull.”

More death… Jack only wanted to help you and now he was paying an ultimate price. You beg, “Please don’t kill him. He was only trying to help.”

“We won’t kill him if you come here,” Scara repeats, and you can see he was getting agitated by it. Knowing him, you won’t get a third chance, so you start to make your way over to the man. It takes a good minute, your fear wanting to abstain for as long as you could, but eventually you’re in his arms and crying into his chest.

Alhaitham taunts at his husband, “You’re an arsehole. We weren’t going to kill him anyway, we need him to figure out some things.”

With a smirk, Scara chuckles and strokes your hair, keeping you firm to his chest when you tried to wriggle away, “I didn’t see you stepping in. Don’t act better than me.”

Al smiles, a little too thin to be polite, “Oh, I know I’m no better. Let me lock up here and then we can deal with (Y/n) first.”

“Deal with…?” You sniffle, looking up to Scara for confirmation on what he meant.

He tuts down at you, “You’re filthy and tired. It would be best for now if we got you cleaned up and put in bed.”

You’re in no position to feel embarrassed when they strip you naked for a bath. Scaramouche sits on top of the basin and watches Alhaitham gently scrub you down; first under the running showerhead and now in nice, hot water with bubbles.

Images of faces and bodies flash in your mind, eyebrows furrowing and the urge to gag strong. Haitham pauses his cleaning, analysing you, “I suppose we have time for a few questions.”

“She won’t even remember them when she wakes up,” Scara chimes, enjoying the way your expressions contort into worry.

He shakes his head, “She might. We don’t know how trauma affects her. Is there anything you want to ask, (Y/N)?”

Boy, what a question. What don’t you want to ask is the main thing. Should you jump straight into the nitty gritty or start out basic? Like why are they bathing you themselves?? “Uh,” you haven’t made eye contact with either of them since leaving the barn, and you weren’t about to now, “Did you guys actually talk with the mechanic about getting me a new car?”

Scara laughs into his hand, Al glaring in his direction for being inconsiderate, “No, we didn’t. If it helps, we did think about genuinely helping you, but in the end, we decided to tell them to scrap it.”

So, they do listen to them, “Does the town know what you… do? Is that why they’re so weird?”

“Yes,” Haitham replies, continuing to clean you now that you were talking again. You think you’re already clean, he’s just busying his hands while in here, though if you knew better, you’d understand that he’s been wanting to touch you for a while now, “Sometimes they help us. They might send lost tourists our way, not that it’s uncommon to find them looking for help on the mountain anyway. In return, we help them.”

‘Help them with what’ was a good next question, but exhaustion was taking over you, the warmth of the bath and the soothing of his hands lulling you away, “What exactly do you do?”

“We’re cannibals,” Scara grins, his smile only widening as you paled, “Oh yeah, you’ve tried our delicacy before, too. You loved it.”

You’ve enjoyed everything they’ve cooked, now you feel betrayed. Alhaitham explains to you, “There’s more to it than that. We also sell the meat, sometimes even live human. People know cannibals exist, they just don’t know the extent to the community.”

“Community,” you parrot, trying to wrap your head around their words. It is true, you’ve seen it with your own eyes, it’s just to hear them talking so casually is knocking you off guard. “Your family, where are they? Are they cannibals too?”

Scara stretches before hopping off the counter and grabbing a nice, fluffy towel from the warming rack. He holds it open as Al rinses you off and pulls the plug. You get out and allow him to wrap you up, starting to dry you, “It wasn’t his family coming, it was the police. Haitham doesn’t have any living relatives, really.”

“Oh,” you think about the police, how nice they were, how scared they were, your voice cracking, “Why did they have to die? Because they found the – your, …” You trail off, unsure how to word their establishment.

Alhaitham, who had been rummaging through the cabinet behind the mirror, pulled out a box of tablets and flipped over a clean glass on the basin, “They would have died anyway. The plan was to send them away, unharmed.”

“Mhm,” Scara hummed, rather annoyedly, finishing by wrapping the towel around your shoulders and stepping aside for Al, “If those idiots hadn’t gone poking around in the woods, they would still be alive.”

Alhaitham pops out three tablets after filling the glass with water and handing them to you. Obviously, you were sceptical, so he told you, “They’re sleeping pills. We just want to make sure you will go to sleep and that you’ll stay asleep.”

You took them from him, except you spent a second deciding whether or not you should throw them – and the glass – to the floor in defiance. Your rebellious thought was quickly snuffed when Scaramouche glared down at you, “If you don’t take those right now, I’ll force them down your throat and it will hurt.”

Not wanting to test that, you docilely took the tablets, it’s not like you were getting out of here anyway. Scara petted your head, now grabbing your sleeping shorts and loose shirt to get you dressed for bed. He held your hand and lead you out of the bathroom and to their bedroom, which you had only seen a few times. It was pretty bare, neither of their styles being something that cluttered. “I’m not on the couch?”

Alhaitham pulled the covers back, allowing you to shuffle under, “Not anymore.”

He tucked you in, stroking your hair and watching as your eyelids grew heavier. You needed to know, needed to get this thought out before you slept, “Are you going to kill me?”

“Not if you’re good,” Scara scared you, and Alhaitham just smacked at him with the back of his hand.

“He’s joking,” he says, squeezing your own hand to help comfort you, “We’ve grown to really like you. Think of this as your new home from now on.”

“I don’t want to…” You barely get the words out, head sinking deeper into the pillows.

Scaramouche can’t help himself, nonchalantly adding, “Too bad it’s not up to you, worm.”

“We are not calling her ‘worm’,” His husband rejects, pulling out a chain and cuff from under the bed, setting it up around your ankle so if you do wake up, you really won’t be going anywhere. An extra precaution.

According to the two men, things will be a lot nicer now that you didn’t have to be in the dark about things. Talks about animals and hunting are no longer beaten around the bush, they outright told you that every year they host a human hunting trial, which they hate but their mountain is ‘fun’ and ‘ideal’ and it helps get their brand out there without having to do much. You were lucky to have just missed it.

“We’re thinking of expanding,” Scaramouche says over breakfast. You had only poked at your food, your ankle weighing with the cuff that was now chained to the table. If you wanted to, you could just lift the table and pull it out from under, but the chain was heavy, and you wouldn’t get anywhere with them. Honestly, the cuff was overkill, more of a mental statement. “We have people in the farm who look after the meat anyway, so it’s not like the work overload would be too bad.”

“I didn’t really ask,” was all you could think of to say, earning a muffled laugh from Alhaitham.

Scara wasn’t too happy with that, turning his nose up at you, “I vote we get a muzzle for our pet.”

Alhaitham recovers himself, patting your knee, “Hey, now, don’t be so rude. He’s just trying to be inclusive, that’s a big step for him.”

It seems both of you were not in Scara’s good books this morning. You set down your cutlery and decide to get more information on your life here, “Am I… Am I really just to be your pet now?”

“You always were,” Scaramouche says, easily, “There isn’t much difference now. Once you stop overreacting, things will go back to the way they were, you’ll even have more privileges.”

That struck a nerve with you. Perhaps it’s because they aren’t holding a weapon, or maybe because it feels like any other morning (despite the chain), but you feel you have to defend your emotions here, “This isn’t ‘overreacting’, Scaramouche. You kill and eat people, I watched you commit murder, how can you think anyone would be okay after that?”

He holds his hand towards his husband, “Alhaitham is okay with it.”

“Alhaitham does it too!” You cry out, slamming the table with your palms, “You’re both psychotic. I trusted you, I cared for you, and now I’m going to die because you’re horrible people!”

There’s silence, both men allowing you to vent out your grievances while they’re fresh. It’s a step in the right direction if you’re willing to speak up, however… Alhaitham waits until your breathing is steady again until he speaks up towards Scara, “I think we may need to draw up an adjustment plan for our little pet. Nothing too chaotic, we don’t want them to run away. Just something to embed their new lifestyle.”

“Right,” Scaramouche nods his head in agreement, “Puppy here sure has some bark. A shame, I was excited to show her just how ‘horrible’ I could be. What were you thinking?”

“Positive training will help with our bond. I don’t want to do distance training like we do with the cattle,” Al is thoughtful, arms crossed and eyes staring off to the distance, “Things like outside time will be a reward. It’ll be a while before we can introduce anything more intimate.”

… Intimate? Like petting or something, you think, you hope, you pray. Scaramouche laughs, tousling your hair and bringing his lips to your ear as he breathes, “Don’t be so afraid. You’ll enjoy it, promise.”

Alhaitham squeezes thigh, to soothe you no doubt, it’s not a surprise when it doesn’t work, “Enough of this talk. We can discuss later when (Y/n) isn’t around, for now we should lay down some ground rules.”

A noticeable attitude changes in Scaramouche, you’d be willing to call it giddy if the word didn’t sound so weird describing him, “And, of course, punishments.”

You look down to the chain on your ankle, shifting your foot slightly, the foreign weight reminding you that it really is there.

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