Room for One More: Chapter 10
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Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark Reader-Insert
Word Count: 3.5K
Synopsis: In the aftermath of the incident with Ruth, you refuse to leave Chuck by himself overnight and join him at his house. With the clock ticking down, maybe it’s the best (if not the last) time to be upfront with your feelings.
CW: Swearing; Creepy Crawlies/Spider mentions; Claustrophobia; lil’ snuck in ChuckxAuggie; Embarrassing love fluff; Talk of/Implication of sex; a bananas pun because I will never be over the ‘dammit my banana’ line
November 2nd, 1968, Night
Chuck had pictured the opportunity of spending a night with you much differently than it occurred, and he had definitely thought about it before, as had you. You had first swung by your house and he crouched down outside, sitting on your back porch behind your kitchen, rehashing the entire gut-wrenching evening. Inside, you scrambled around your room tossing together some semblance of an overnight bag. Luckily, your mom was at work late again and so you left a note that stated you went to see Ruth’s production, then would be crashing at Stella’s for the night. In the note, you promised to call around 10pm. You did this both to help calm your mother (you were sure news of Ruth being transported to the hospital would reach her soon enough, if it hadn’t already), and to add to your alibi. If you called and claimed to be at Stella’s, she wouldn’t call there seeking you instead. Even given the circumstances, you knew she wouldn’t be keen on you spending the night with Chuck. You left the note, hoping that these weren’t the last words you’d say to your mom, that your story wouldn’t be next, or that you could maybe survive it like Ruth did. Not that you wanted to be in the same raving state that she was in; they’d put her in the institution for sure. You opened the kitchen door to the outside, finding Chuck where you’d left him, looking like a stranded puppy. “I should have had you come inside,” you said with a pang of guilt, “she wasn’t home anyway.”
“It’s fine,” he said, standing up, his eyes still red rimmed from crying earlier. You began the walk two blocks away to his house. Even though these were special, unromantic circumstances, you couldn’t quell the butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the thought of being alone with Chuck, in his house, overnight. On the way there, he started explaining that he was having a recurring dream. “Starting on Halloween, and it’s always the same. This pale, fat lady whispers to me. Like, she looks like she’s waterlogged, bloated. It’s unnatural. And her eyes are just pure black. Like a shark’s or something. And she tells me ‘leave this place. This is an evil place. Get out while you still can.’” He gulped at the retelling. Saying it out loud cemented it in reality. “What if that’s my story? What if that’s how I go?”
“Does she do anything in your dream, or is she just there?”
“She hasn’t done anything yet, but she just keeps getting closer and closer. And even if I listen, and try to leave...I can’t find a way out. I feel like I’m trapped. I don’t think I’ve ever been claustrophobic before, but that’s what this feels like. Like I’m being crushed and there’s no way to get out.” You nodded in acknowledgement and understanding. The two of you were standing outside his house now, “And it’s in this red room. Like everything is red. The walls, the lights, the floor. Like it’s being washed in blood.”
“That is really creepy,” you tried to sound more sympathetic and less scared, but you felt like you were failing as his eyes darted around.
“I just...I know I’m next, I can feel it. Why would I have these dreams otherwise? Why would she take Auggie and Ruth and then not me?” He started to ramble, but you put your hands on his shoulders, dropping your bag on his front stoop.
“Hey, look at me.” He did, his eyes fixed to yours easily and found some kind of calming relief in them. His look softened. “I will do everything in my power to stop that. You said the room is entirely red, right? We’ll stay out of any and all red rooms and away from any bloated pale ladies.” He gave you a soft chuckle. “It’s not going to be you next.” You reassured him.
You picked up your bag and he opened the front door with his key and turned on the light, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t place. You didn’t know, but behind his eyes he was thinking that the only thing worse would be that your story was next.
Chuck excused himself to take a shower. He still had blood from Ruthie’s wounds, dirty mop water, and an itching feeling all upon him. He knew there wasn’t a single spider on him, but it was one of those psychosomatic reactions that you can’t help. Until he could scrub every inch of himself to get rid of the feeling, he would be paranoid. You set up camp in his room, changing into your pajamas. You had grabbed a slightly oversized white t-shirt with a rainbow stripe emblazoned over the chest and a pair of silky shorts that you usually wore only to bed. You hadn’t really considered if they’d be warm enough as autumn was fading toward winter, or if they were really ‘decent’ enough to wear in front of Chuck. Maybe subconsciously you picked them for that reason. The clock definitely felt like it was ticking, seconds slipping away that were bolstering you to be more brave and bold. You crept downstairs to make you both something to eat while he was still in the bathroom, and to kill time until you had to call your mom. After about ten or fifteen minutes of making sandwiches in the kitchen, you heard Chuck frantically call your name and your heart dropped, worried about what might have happened. You yelled back your location and he came pounding down the stairs, barefoot and in sweatpants and a green tee. His hair was still a wet mop of dark curls and waves; his eyes flooded with relief as he spotted you.
“Jesus, you scared me disappearing like that.” He breathed out, and you could completely understand why.
“Sorry.” You said, genuinely. “I didn’t really think about---” you shook your head at your mistake, but then you felt his warm arms wrap around you and his wet hair stick to your forehead. It wasn’t completely unheard of for Chuck or your other friends to hug you, especially since you and Chuck had become more frequent with your touches toward each other, but it was still uncommon. Those butterflies were back, hatched anew and you just stood shocked and rigid in his arms.
“It’s okay, just as long as you’re safe.” He mumbled against you and you could feel the vibrations from his chest pour into your own.
“I’m not going anywhere.” You promised and he pulled back. You looked at him tenderly, with softened eyes. He definitely did not look refreshed or renewed from his shower. He still looked like he went through hell. You supposed he was still going through it. You handed him a plate with a sandwich on it and a glass of milk, and picked up your own. He led you out of the kitchen to eat in front of the TV. This late, there probably wasn’t really anything on, but background noise would be a comfort in and of itself. As the clock neared 10 PM, you told him you were going to call your mom and why, leaving out that you feared it might be your last conversation with her. You didn’t need him to worry about that. But, if you only had one night left, your heart felt right spending it with Chuck. You would not have chosen any other route. Your mom picked up after two rings. “Hi mom, yeah, we’re going to sleep soon.” You waited for her to ask about Ruth, to see if she had that information yet but she seemed to be none the wiser. “Yeah, we’re going to the library tomorrow in the morning so I might not see you until afternoon or night. Sure, I’ll check in. Okay. Goodnight. I love you mom.” You wanted to make sure that if these were the last words you said to her, that they would be kind and she would know what she meant to you. You hung up the phone and realized that Chuck was in the archway, at least somewhat listening in. He was looking at you with sadness and pity; it had just hit him that without you, your mom would be all alone. His parents still had each other, and Ruth, even if she was damaged. But your mom would have no one. You came to a similar realization and choked back a sob, not able to stop the tears that sprung in your eyes from rolling down your cheeks.
“Hey, hey.” Chuck said softly and approached you, wiping the tears away with his thumbs, “It’ll be okay. We’re going to solve this.” You knew he didn’t really believe that, since a few hours earlier, he was lamenting his own demise and none of you had an actual plan, but you appreciated the attempt at reassurance. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.” He left the dishes in the sink and you two padded up the stairs to his bedroom. He put on a record and you flopped sullenly on his bed, still sitting up. You weren’t sure how you really expected to sleep or relax at all tonight and resigned yourself to the fact that you probably wouldn’t. But, you had plenty to discuss and Chuck was known for being a chatterbox. He was never one to shy away from the elephant in a room, either, so you immediately delved into what was on your minds: Sarah Bellows.
“But why us? I mean, we were just in her house. If she were paying any attention, she’d know that Stella like, worships her.” He said, and you scrunched your nose disgusted by the fact he was right. Stella loved the tales about Sarah and definitely had empathy toward her, whether or not she was a child murderer.
“I don’t know how ghost-rules work!” You admitted, “Maybe the curse is attached to the house itself? Maybe that’s why Sarah was born different and all that shit happened then?”
“Maybe...like it’s built on some kind of ancient burial ground? But then stopping Sarah won’t help us…” He trailed off.
“Well, I guess the power has to be hers, right? It’s stories being written in her book, after all.”
“You’re right.” He nodded and you fell into an easy silence for a few minutes, both conjuring your own thoughts and solutions.
“You’ve got a point about how Stella feels about her. What if we could prove to her that we don’t mean any harm? We were there to admire her, not mock her. We’d never want to actually disturb her and we could make it up to her somehow?”
“Start a cult of Sarah Bellows?” He grinned at you and you laughed, shaking your head.
“Not exactly what I had in mind, but if it saves our butts, yeah, why not!” You tried to keep it a light joking tone, but it just made reality crash back on you. All you were really trying to do, all this brainstorming would accomplish, was to keep you alive...to survive. You looked at Chuck for a long time, even though he had looked away from you. You studied his features: the sharp, high cheekbones, the long nose, the dark soulful eyes that usually sparkled with a playful shine but were currently dim, the soft, fluffy cedar-colored curls that were finally dry and bounced with every movement, every breath. Everything that made your heart ache and that you physically loved about him, not even scratching the surface of the person inside that you fell for. You wanted to tell him, but you never knew how...but it almost felt like something you should say tonight. You were weighing your options. He’d already had a rough night, to say the least, and there was no foreseeable way to come back from that. However, that made you feel like it couldn’t get much worse...as long as no one got hurt. You supposed that was part of the problem; while it wouldn’t physically hurt you to be rejected, you would be emotionally leveled, at best. But, you might never get another chance. You bit your lip and continued to stare at him, feeling nauseous from the anxiety regarding the opportunity. He looked up at you and noticed the look. Nervousness and worry was written all over your face.
“What? What is it?” He asked, searching your features for a hint, “You look like you’re about to freak out. Are you thinking about Sarah and the book again? I mean, like we can stop thinking about it, but---”
“No, it’s not that.” You blinked a couple of times and shook your head, feeling a little selfish that you were focused on confessing your crush rather than the reality of your lives being at stake. “It’s...it’s nothing.” You tried to push it out of your mind. It probably wasn’t the best time after all. But the mystery just made him more nerve-wracked and he started rambling.
“What are we going to do? We can’t go to the police, burning it didn’t work...the best we’ve done is interrupt a story and that still didn’t end well. Did we really save Ruthie? I can’t stop thinking about how scared she must have been and...were you looking at me cuz you think I’m next? It’s gonna be me, isn’t it?” His voice kept getting higher as the panic crept in with every syllable. You finally grabbed his face in your hands and turned him towards you.
“No, that’s not what I was thinking at all. It’s going to be okay, you’re going to be okay. I was just…” Those pleading, dark chocolatey eyes melted your resolve. “Aw, to hell with it, I was just thinking about how much I love you.” You swallowed hard after the words left your mouth and hung in the air, dense and heavy. You let go of his face and dropped your own into your hands instead. He still hadn’t replied and you felt the humiliation of it crashing in on you.
“Yeah...I know. You’re my best friend.” He said after a moment, just above a whisper.
You started a muffled speech in your hands, “No, I don’t mean like how I love Stella or Auggie, or my mom.” You looked up at him, even though you were sure you were going to be sick all over his bedspread, then quickly looked away, “I mean, I’m in love with you. I have been for like, a year, but I didn’t know how to tell you--Or if I even wanted to tell you. I mean, we have a good thing going here as friends, and why ruin it? But...hell, if we’re going to die tomorrow or the next day or whatever, I wanted you to know.” You finally found the courage to look him in the eye, and you could see a wide, dual-dimpled smile on his face that made your heart sputter.
“Really?” He asked, and you just felt embarrassed, thinking he was probably just taking joy in someone desiring him, like the few times he had lorded it over Auggie that you had chosen to sit with him instead or whatever. Your whole body grew unbearably hot and your cheeks flooded red with regret, while tears filled your eyes. You just nodded with your head down, trying to hide the reaction the best you could. “Funny, for the longest time, I thought it was one-sided.” He took one of your hands in his own, but lifted your chin with the other. “I’ve liked you since that day Stella brought you to our table. At first I thought it was just because you were different, new...you know, someone I hadn’t known since birth, but the more I got to know you...the more I realized it was real. Not just that I thought you were a fox.” You laughed at his word choice and he brought his hand up to wipe away your tears and begged you not to cry.
“You were quiet for so long and then just said ‘Really?’ what was I supposed to think, dipshit?!” You pushed him back as he laughed.
“You were supposed to already know that I’m bananas about you, duh!” He pulled himself back towards you and quickly pecked your lips. His eyes went wide as he clearly had surprised himself, but you paid that no mind, you just leaned forward and kissed him back, holding it longer this time. When you pulled back, he immediately launched into an awkward apology, “I’m sorry. I really have no idea what I’m doing and you make me real freakin’ nervous,” he admitted candidly. You just smiled at him and captured his lips again, determined to make him more used to it and less nervous, even though your own heart threatened to leap out of your throat at every point of contact. You pulled back and looked at him sweetly, but the nerves got the better of him, “I kissed Auggie once!” He blurted out.
“I...what? No shit?!” You were shocked, to say the least. He had absolutely no idea what possessed him to tell you that, but he nodded.
“We just...wanted to try it out, like practice, you know? It didn’t mean anything!”
“What was that like?” You asked, not entirely sure you wanted to hear him talk about kissing someone else, even if it didn’t mean anything.
“I don’t even really remember. Weird, I guess. Not nearly as nice as kissing you just now. Although, I’m pretty sure I just ruined my chances of doing that again.” He cursed himself, looking away.
“Well, way to make a person feel special,” You laughed, “But I wouldn’t write yourself off just yet.” He looked back at you hopefully, trying to see if you were mocking him or sincere.
“You should feel special, you know.” He said after a pause, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. No one was really ever important to invest my time in, or to even really pay attention to. You changed all that.” You loved his moments of sincerity like this. He leaned in to kiss you again and you let him. He tried to put more passion into it and deepen it, but he ended up fumbling and just knocking you over, nearly falling off the bed himself. “Shit, I’m sorry. I really have no idea...I told you, I’ve never done this before.” You laughed, playfully, and sat back up.
“Yeah, I know. I heard you at the Gazette.” He looked at you confused, so you elaborated, “the first thing out of your mouth when you thought the story was about you was ‘I haven’t even had sex yet.’” You teased him and laughed harder, his cheeks and tips of his ears turning pink.
“Technically, I think it was more along the lines of ‘I don’t wanna die.’ But hey, like I said, I never bothered with anyone before I met you. I never even liked anyone else.”
You took the spark of adrenaline in your system to dare to speak your next words, “We could change that, if you want.”
“What? Me liking you? Why would you want---”
“No, you fuckin’---” You normally didn’t swear so badly, but you were exasperated by his hopeless cluelessness and really didn’t want to have to spell it out for him. “The other thing.” You looked at him meaningfully and swallowed hard, blushing like mad.
“Oh. Oh!” His eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, “I...really?”
You nodded and kissed the tip of his nose, “I have had...a long time to figure out how I feel about you and what that means to me. I have never loved anyone like this before, Chuck. And...I hate that the circumstance is that we have limited time so why not, but I was thinking about it long before this, and Jesus why am I still talking?” Each word that left your lips only piled on more and more embarrassment. Chuck looked at you, deliberating. It was hard to say if either of you were really ready for this, but you were right, your time was likely very limited...perhaps you should make the most of it.
“Are you sure?” He looked deeply into your eyes, wanting to make sure you were one hundred percent onboard with this.
“Yes.” You confirmed, again, and he took you into his arms and kissed you again.
Next (Chapter 11)
