𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭: 𝗜 𝗦𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗛𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗦𝘁𝗮𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗜𝗻 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝘁𝗵𝘁𝘂𝗯
“So you want us to go fix a potentially haunted mansion?” “Yes!” Kazuya’s eyes sparkled with a suspicious amount of excitement. “No.” Rayne deadpanned.
Rayne Atlas never imagined he'd trade sun-soaked days at the beach for a summer in Transylvania, but here he is.
Dragged by his less-than-convincing friends, he's about to spend a week fixing up a decrepit mansion that could double as a set for a horror movie. This summer, what was supposed to be a mundane repair job spirals into an adventure, and they discover that some places hold more than just memories... they harbor grudges.
Rayne Atlas did not know the reason he agreed to this trip.
It was not because his friends were a convincing bunch; they were a bunch of idiots who would try to convince a chicken that it was a duck and come back convinced they were flamingos, set on a mission for world domination.
It couldn’t have been for the place because no one would want to go to Transylvania in the middle of summer to help fix up his friend’s great-great aunt’s house.
‘It was because of the weather,’ Rayne tried to reason with himself. He was conventionally wise–or so they say, so he couldn’t have signed himself up for a summer of pure work if there wasn’t an upside to it.
Brooklyn got crazy hot in the summer, like the universe just decided ‘Screw it’, and turned up the heat in the boiler. And as much as Rayne would love to spend his summer marinating in the bathtub, Transylvania must have sounded more appealing to his heat-muddled brain when his friends pitched their idea.
“I have an idea,” Kazuya announced, slamming open the bathroom door like the concept of knocking was beneath him, after he’d barged into Rayne’s house, like he wasn’t in the middle of taking a bath.
“And it couldn’t wait five minutes?” Rayne screeched, trying to submerge his body deeper into the water-filled bathtub. “Good ideas don’t wait, Ray-ray.” Kazuya tutted, crouching next to the tub like they were about to plot a heist.
Rayne reached for the nearest object, his half-empty shampoo bottle, and threw it at Kazuya. The bottle bounced off his friend’s shoulder with a dull thud, sending a few droplets flying.
Kazuya, ever unbothered, caught the bottle mid-bounce and set it gently on the sink. Rayne closed his eyes and took a long breath through his nose. “This better not involve farming. Or chickens. Or farming and chickens.”
Kazuya’s grin only widened. “Better. You, me, Elena, and Mal. Transylvania. A crumbling old house and enough creepy vibes to shoot an indie horror film. All expenses paid.”
Rayne peeked through one eye. “You lost me at ‘horror film’, but ‘all expenses paid’ caught me. Elaborate.”
“Some great-great aunt of mine died recently,” Kazuya started. “Her last words were to take care of this mansion she bought in the middle of god-knows-where and left it to simmer in the chill of Transylvania for a few decades.” Kazuya flicked some water onto Rayne’s face.
“So you want us to go fix a potentially haunted mansion?”
“Yes!” Kazuya’s eyes sparkled with a suspicious amount of excitement.
“No.” Rayne deadpanned, wiping the water off his face.
“Come on, Ray-ray. Think about it,” Kazuya tried to convince, donning his best version of puppy eyes. “No Brooklyn heat waves. No angry mothers trying to kill you for not doing the laundry. Just chill weather and an even chiller job.” Kazuya leaned in closer, whispering.
Rayne stared at him. Then sighed.
“I swear to god, if I get possessed this summer, I’m haunting you first.”
Kazuya beamed. “So that’s a yes?”
“It’s a maybe.” Rayne agreed, hesitance evident in his voice.
“He said yes!” Kazuya clapped his hands and stood up triumphantly. “Time to go on a road trip to a haunted house!” He said brightly.
“Don’t call it that,” Rayne muttered, sinking back into the water.
“And shut the door on your way out.”
Kazuya didn’t. Of course.
And that was how Rayne Atlas found himself going through customs at an airport two weeks later, holding a backpack, a suitcase, and a growing sense of dread.
“Sometimes–” A voice huffed, body slamming down onto the wooden bench next to Rayne. “–I wish I were an octopus. So I could slap eight people at once.”
Rayne snorted. “Who was it this time?” He asks, flinching when the wind blows his jet-black hair right into his face.
Elena Hale, a long-time friend, and a personal hater of all Rayne’s life choices, narrowed her icy-blue eyes, scoffing. “Rachel,” She hisses like the name was supposed to mean something.
It didn’t.
A beat of silence passes between them. Rayne rolls his eyes when he realizes Elena isn’t going to elaborate. “Are you going to tell me who Rachel is?” Rayne asks, tired gray eyes looking at the road ahead.
The streets weren’t crowded, and neither was the airport. People weren’t usually looking to visit the horror capital mid-summer.
A shadow blocks the barely visible sun, black hair fluttering around in the Transylvania breeze. “Rachel was the lady sitting next to Eli on the flight.” A voice says, breathy, amused.
Mallory Lorien hands Rayne a bottle of water, eyes gleaming in mischief as he almost drops it, surprised by the nail-biting chill that runs up his arm. “Eli decided she hates the woman.”
“Screw you.” Rayne hisses, frowning, before taking a huge gulp of the ice-cold water, shuddering. Whatever it took to quench his hour-long thirst because Kazuya was taking way too long to rent a car, that useless thing.
“With valid reason!” Elena defends, whipping her head to face Rayne, blonde hair falling out of her messy bun. “Rachel,” She spits out with venom.
“Is a self-righteous piece of–ugh! She sat in the window seat, you know, and blindfolded herself because apparently, she was scared of heights, but when I offered to switch seats with her out of the kindness of my heart–”
“There is no kindness in your heart.” Mallory interrupted.
Elena glared at her. Mallory made a zipping motion with her hands. “–out of the kindness of my heart,” Elena repeated, insistence coloring her voice. “She started lecturing me on the importance of booking your flight seats and not bothering other people like her to exchange seats because everyone should sit in the seats they paid for!”
Rayne tried his best to stifle the laughter threatening to burst out of him, but he could swear Mallory noticed.
“I don’t get it, I mean, all the seats are the same price!” Elena huffed, pulling the branded denim jacket closer to her body. Mallory nodded along to Elena’s whining, somewhat like she was indulging a child’s tantrum.
“No sign of Kazuya?” Mallory whispered, eyes scouring the entrance to the airport for any indication of an unmannered idiot with dark brown hair, possibly sticking his head out a window and driving with one hand.
“No.” Rayne ran a hand through his hair, leaning back further on the bench, and shutting his eyes. “At this point, we might as well lay a tent here and camp.”
Mallory laughs, all sudden and unrestrained, like it had burst out of her.
“Right, Kazuya,” Elena snapped her fingers in realization. “What’s the point of being rich if he can’t even travel business class?” Mallory rolled her eyes, sharing a glance with Rayne.
“Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to use it,” Mallory states, eyes narrowing onto Elena in more amusement than annoyance.
“I mean, look at Rayne.” The black-haired woman points, making the said boy shrug. “He’d be dressing like he’s homeless if Kazuya wasn’t helping him shop.” Mallory articulated.
Rayne opened one eye, peeking and nodding his head in agreement.
Elena pouted, mirroring Rayne’s position, more hair falling out of her bun and rendering it practically useless. Not that it was particularly useful in the first place, her wavy blonde hair falling only to her shoulder.
“You’re just mad Rachel stole your window seat.” Rayne chided.
“I hope Rachel forgets her passport in her hotel and misses her flight back.”
Mallory looks Elena right in the eye, face emotionless and deadpanned, “Poor Rachel.”
Rayne had to pretend to yawn to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst out of him. Elena glared at Mallory, pulling the hair clip out of her hair to pull it back into a fashionable half-ponytail.
“Who's Rachel?” A voice piped up, startling Rayne’s last two living brain cells out of him.
“Holy shit!” Mallory screeched, jumping a whole meter back in fear, calm demeanor be damned. Elena was clinging to Rayne, horror evident on her face as she stared at the newcomer, first in shock, and then in annoyance.
Rayne, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch, except for flinching when Elena’s manicured nails pierced crescent-shaped dents into his arm.
“Kazuya!” Elena chastised, lips pulling into a pout.
“We need to put a bell on you,” Mallory muttered under her breath, gasping as Kazuya elbowed her jokingly. “I called your names like, twice.” Kazuya defended, a smile never leaving his face.
“It’s not my fault you were too invested in Rachel–wait, who’s Rachel?” He asks again, untangling a strand of his hair from where it was intertwined with his earring.
“Rachel,” Rayne starts, standing up and abandoning his very comfortable position on the bench. “Will be the first one to throw dirt on your coffin if you don’t get your ass to the car right now.”
Rayne’s almost-translucent grey eyes glare into Kazuya’s brown ones, watching as the almost six-foot man wilts away from him.
“Yes, sir!” Kazuya says, words hurried as the syllables all blur together.
Mallory trails behind Kazuya to help him load the luggage into the car he had rented out for the next two or more weeks, as Rayne rolls the suitcases over.
“What took you so long?” Rayne muttered to his friend once the girls got comfortable in the backseat.
“Oh.” Kazuya let out, sheepishly, like he hadn’t expected the question. “My sugar levels were running quite low, so I had to suspend my proceedings to replenish them by consuming some content with high sugar. To, you know, prevent hypoglycemia.” Kazuya states.
Rayne blinks. Once. Twice.
“...You were hungry, so you stopped for donuts.”
“Yeah, I stopped for donuts,” Kazuya confirms.
Elena smacks him in the head.
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