dire engagements

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

Ronin - slow, but he gets there okay - starts to put two and two together far too late. He blames the fact that about 80% of him still thinks that ghosts and demons and ghoulies and all that are bullshit for the masses, but there's no denying that Remi's behaviour combined with the setting, the flashlights, the blood? and then, finally, the clamouring from upstairs; all of it points to being unexpectedly in a horror movie.

"Fuck!" He jumps as the basement door slams shut, almost in time with Remi's warning, and Ronin stumbles back in the dark. Unbalanced, he ends up on his ass next to the well, one hand instinctively reaching out to grab the side of it, feeling his fingers coat in something tacky and strangely warm. Through the flickering flashlight in his hand, he commits the cardinal sin of swinging it around towards the door, then back to the well, with a "let's get out of here, Remi--"

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

If anyone bothers to freeze-frame the footage later—if they manage to pause it at just the right millisecond as Ronin's flashlight arcs across the basement—they'll find the sort of thing that ruins sleep. Blurred limbs too long for any human frame, eyes like voids where faces should be. A smear of something not-quite-human hovering just behind the beam. Blink, and it’s gone.

Down in the dark, though, there’s only disorientation.

Remi, crouched beside the well, murmurs something about the water. It’s soft, almost thoughtful, as if he’s speaking to himself, or to something just beneath the surface. But as he shifts, his foot catches the edge of one of the buckets, and it clatters to the floor, spilling a sheet of water across the cracked cement.

The splash breaks whatever spell had him. With a sharp inhale, Remi jolts upright like someone waking from a dream they hadn’t meant to have. His flashlight swings wild and unfocused as he reaches blindly for Ronin, his hand fumbling until it snags the edge of blue plaid, clenching hard. "We’re not alone down here," he whispers, voice full of breath and dread, eyes wide with something unspoken.

Above them, the pounding starts. Muffled shouts echo through the floorboards. The sharp bang-bang-bang of fists against wood, voices raised in panic from the dining room. The basement door holds, trembling in its frame, but does not open.

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

Oh don't you worry - Ronin's sleep is ruined enough even without having to freeze-frame the camera, but undoubtedly one of the crew will do that later. If, you know, they live through this. Hahas and all that.

Scrabbling to his knees just as the bucket of water spills across the basement and soaks into the denim of his jeans, he sucks in a shuddering breath and jumps at the feel of Remi clutching for his shirt. Without intending to or thinking about it, he clutches at the other man's arm right back, and he's sorry for any red smears that are left on Remi's jacket.

"We just need to get to the stairs," he tells him in a voice that feels too quiet given how loud he thinks he's speaking, as though the air itself is dragging the sound down. The hammering against the basement door continues, Ronin using it along with the flickering flashlight to try and orient them.

As he tries to get to his feet, though, the world completely reorients itself. Everything grows shriekingly cold and dark, and fuck, he can't breathe, and all he can taste is iron--

From Remi's perspective, he'll see something - perhaps in ghoulish detail, given what he's capable of - launch itself from the bloody well, snatching at Ronin's throat and pulling him half into it, straight under the surface of the rust red liquid.

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

One moment, Remi is reaching for Ronin, dragging him in close—not in that take advantage of the scary moment to feel up the hot guy kind of way so prevalent in movie tropes (even if it’s normally a guy doing it to a girl)—but with the white-knuckled urgency of someone trying to keep a person, to anchor them when the whole world’s gone sideways. Only the moment doesn’t stretch into anything at all. It’s cut short, clean and violent, as if someone’s sliced the scene in half. There’s no drawn-out warning, no melodramatic swell of music, just a sickening lurch as Ronin’s body snaps forward, dragged like a ragdoll by something invisible and furious. One blink and he’s on his knees, shoulders wedged half-down the throat of the well, arms braced uselessly against its rim. The light catches on his face, but there’s no focus in his eyes. Just water. Blood. The dark.

"Ronin!" Remi’s voice hits the air like a bell; sharp, desperate, breaking against the damp walls. His flashlight clatters uselessly to the ground as he lunges forward, trying to wrench Ronin free, but something shoves back.

The force hits Remi square in the chest, flinging him off his feet with a grunt and slamming him flat on his back. The floor cracks beneath the impact, breath gone in one brutal burst. He gasps, chokes, and scrambles upright, but there’s no air in here anymore. Only the copper tang of blood and the scent of wet stone and rot.

He claws toward the well again, only to hit something invisible, a wall of resistance that burns cold along his skin. It crackles, cruel and unseen, and he can’t push past it. With a growl torn from his throat, Remi kicks out at the nearest bucket, sending it skidding across the concrete. Water sloshes, arcs, and spills; an erratic tide that washes up against the base of the well and flows in messy rivulets across the carved runes, and more importantly, over the blood he'd smeared onto the stones earlier.

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

Ronin's struggles are spirited at first, the sort of desperate scrambling that floods the body with adrenaline, lending extra strength, however short lived. But it is short-lived in the end, and as Remi is thrown back and prevented from interfering, he'll see Ronin's struggles become more sluggish and uncoordinated, the show host slapping uselessly at the side of the well as he tries to pull himself free.

The spill of water comes a split-second too late.

Sloshing over the well and soaking Ronin's shoes and pants - and yes, crucially, cleaning away the blood from the runes - the invisible force drops as if it was never there. A noise like shrieking fills the basement, both high and low at the same time, and upstairs a sudden square of light pools down towards them as the door finally flings itself open.

A stale gust of air, vicious and too coordinated to be accidental, rushes past Isla and the crew as they start to descend. Ronin, still and quiet, is still slumped over the side of the well, his head submerged beneath the rusty water.

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

The moment the blood is washed clean from the stone, it's like a wire's been cut. The invisible pressure releases with a lurch, and Remi moves as if he'd been thrown forward by the sudden absence of resistance.

Time fractures in the dark. Maybe it's only been seconds. Maybe more. His thoughts are a blur of panic and refusal, thundering nonononono as he scrambles to the edge of the well. The surface of the water still ripples where Ronin's head is submerged, and the silence that follows the shriek is somehow worse than the sound.

"Ronin!" Remi hauls him back with both arms hooked beneath his, blood and brackish water soaking through cotton and denim, the dead weight of him a horrifying contrast to the way he’d been just there, just teasing, just warm. His knees slip on the wet concrete but he doesn’t stop until they collapse backwards together, the Italian dragging Ronin into his lap with a grunt.

Twisting, Remi lays him flat, hands shaking as he shifts to kneel at Ronin’s side. One palm pushes wet hair from his forehead, the other swipes across his cheek with a brisk slap. "Ronin—hey. Hey, come on." Another slap. Firmer this time.

His voice cracks as he yells toward the open stairwell. "Isla! We need help, now!" The echoes swallow his words, and the light pouring down feels far too slow.

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

Ronin, his face pale beneath the stain of blood from the well, doesn't respond to either of the slaps, though later he'll undoubtedly wonder why his cheek feels sore on top of the rest of this horrible night. Isla, at least, is swift and eerily calm as her flashlight lands on the two of them, her shoes splashing in the water as she quickly crosses the basement. "I need light," she says curtly, handing Remi her flashlight and gesturing for the rest of the crew to stand ready with the others.

"And someone call 911," she adds, as if it's not obvious. She doesn't ask what happened. She doesn't ask Remi to explain the blood, the well, the drowning. That can come later, after Ronin is breathing again, and without further ado, Isla begins CPR.

There's never a better time to have a paramedic-in-training, clearly, and even before the crew have been able to give the address to the operator, Ronin is spluttering and retching up a rather unpleasant quantity of the water and blood. Levering himself onto his side, it's only with his first clean breath that he lets out a disoriented moan, muscles trembling with the effort not to sag back onto the soaked ground.

"Fuck," he rasps, which only causes another coughing fit. "Wh-- at ha--ppen'd?"

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

Remi doesn’t argue or stall. The moment Isla arrives, her presence cutting through the panic with clean precision, he takes the flashlight from her hand and lifts it above Ronin’s pale, blood-slicked face. His grip is tight, the beam quivering despite how steady he tries to hold it, the circle of light trembling like it knows what’s at stake.

He barely breathes as Isla works. His chest feels tight, lungs too afraid to move, as though the act of drawing air might disrupt something fragile or otherwise take away from the air that Ronin needs. The wet floor soaks into his knees, but he doesn’t shift. All he can do is watch the rhythm of Isla’s hands, the pressure of each compression, the desperate hope that something—anything—will stir beneath them.

And then it does.

The moment Ronin gasps and jerks, retching water onto the cement, Remi lets out a sharp breath of his own, his entire body sagging with it. He’s already leaning forward, hand moving instinctively to Ronin’s shoulder, helping guide him onto his side with careful urgency. There’s a wildness to his heartbeat, not from fear now but from the sudden crash of relief, like a wave finally breaking after too long held back.

Glancing quickly to Isla, as if for confirmation that it’s really over—that Ronin is here, breathing, alive—Remi wipes his cheek against the shoulder of his sweater, trying to rid himself of the slick mix of grime and panic still clinging to his skin. It doesn't help much, but the motion steadies him, just enough to find a thread of levity through the frayed edges of his nerves. "I’m guessing nearly dying was your plan to make the episode go viral," he murmurs, his voice raw but touched with the ghost of a smile. "Next time though, maybe just fake the near-death experience."

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

Isla is on Ronin's other side, checking him over in a clinical way that speaks of horror that's very well compartmentalised. There's enough time at least to offer a brief nod to Remi as if to confirm that, yes, Ronin is breathing again and back from the great beyond or wherever he decided to hang out while he wasn't alive. One of the crew calls that the ambulance is on the way, leaving to the front of the house to wait for them - and presumably to get a much better phone signal.

For his part, Ronin's fingers are numb and his head is spinning, but he can feel Remi's grip on his shoulder as a point of searing warmth, something to orient himself in the flickering dark. His laugh is little more than a wet wheeze, and he shakes his head to the other man. "You did say I was method," he grates out, throat and chest sore and burning. "Fuck, I wanna get out of this basement."

Already he's moving as if to stand - undoubtedly a terrible idea, but still arguably better than being down here with whatever has just happened.

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

Remi shifts immediately to brace Ronin’s weight, one hand sliding beneath the other man’s arm and the other still firm at his shoulder, steadying rather than restraining. The slick concrete offers little purchase, and Ronin’s soaked clothes don’t help, but Remi moves with instinctive care, his focus narrowed to the trembling warmth beneath his palms.

He glances toward Isla, waiting for the faintest nod or indication that this is fine, that standing isn’t the worst idea either of them has had tonight. When none comes, he gives Ronin’s shoulder a small, grounding squeeze, something more steady than reassuring. But guilt curls in the base of his spine like something cold and familiar. Something that knows him. The weight in the room might be gone, but the feeling it leaves behind—that echo of presence, of being watched through eyes that no longer belong to the living—hasn't let go of him.

Even so, his voice is soft when he finally speaks, the words meant only for Ronin, low and meant to soothe. "There’s nothing down here with us anymore. You're okay."

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

Isla gives another nod of confirmation - they'll need to get out of the basement either way, and if Ronin can walk then she'd prefer they don't linger - and so between them, they're able to get him more or less on his feet. Ronin is left mumbling apologies when his feet don't quite hold his weight the way they had been, and he's out of breath before they're even halfway across the basement.

Still, it's with a shivering inhale that he glances up at the medium, eyes bloodshot through the blue, face almost as pale as when he'd been clinically dead. "You saw what happened right?" he asks, voice barely beyond a whisper as if desperate for confirmation that there'd been a witness to the unfolding nightmare. "You saw it?"

Already his words are slurring again, and it takes everything he's got to get up the basement stairs. By the time the flashing lights appear on the road up towards the Halliday residence, Ronin is slumped against the bottom step of the porch, fighting for consciousness.

"I'm so sorry," Isla says to Remi suddenly, turning towards him. "I didn't even think-- Are you alright? Do you need someone to check you over as well?"

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

Remi slips his arm more firmly around Ronin’s waist, anchoring him in tight, the way one might hold a man trying not to drown on dry land. The tremble in Ronin’s body says enough—whatever strength got him out of that basement is ebbing fast—and Remi bears more of his weight without comment. When Ronin’s legs falter again, they stop. Still, he doesn’t risk letting go.

So when Ronin tilts his head up, eyes bloodshot and rimmed with exhaustion, they’re startlingly close. That blue, glassy with something more than just pain, reaches for something steady. Remi’s throat works as he nods, a low murmur passing between them, almost lost to the creak of the old stairs beneath their feet. "We can talk about it later," he says, voice hushed and hoarse.

The climb is slow and grim. By the time they reach the porch, the sirens are beginning to curl through the air like the start of a storm. Remi helps guide Ronin down gently, crouching to brace him until the other man settles. The moment he does, Remi starts to rise—likely to find water, or space, or anything that might feel helpful—but Isla’s voice halts him.

"I’m fine," he says quietly, not quite meeting her eyes and brushing his palms against the thighs of his jeans more out of reflex than need. "You should stay with him." His gaze flicks back to Ronin for just a second, enough for something to stir in his expression—relief, maybe. Or guilt, still coiled low and quiet where no one’s asked the right question yet. "I won't be able to answer their questions," he adds with a nod toward the approaching paramedics.

Should Isla stay with the paramedics, Remi will busy himself helping the crew packup. It's the least he can do to make up for all the drama, he assures them, taking supplies back to the van. Inside, the equipment waits exactly as he would expect. Cables coiled. Battery lights blinking. Camera bodies glinting like half-shuttered eyes. The cards are easy enough to find, especially given Isla's careful handwriting: basement-1, basement-2, basement-3.

By the time Isla is done dealing with the EMTs, there will be a few less cards in the kit than there had been before.

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I

"I... alright," Isla says slowly, brow furrowing as she looks Remi over; the tell-tale sign of someone who is liable to ask very difficult questions very soon, whether he likes it or not. She's about to say something else when the ambulance crew arrives in force, a uniformed paramedic hopping out. Isla takes off to meet with them, leaving the medium to do his helpful best with the rest of the crew.

The equipment is packed away, the dining room and basement straightened out, the heavy, heavy cover drawn back over the well whose water is still brackish, but clear now of anything red. And when they finally lock up the Halliday house, it's as if it has been asleep this whole time. Ronin's eyes never leave it, though, glassy and only dimly seeing though they might be, and only as the ambulance doors slam shut is he finally able to put the place firmly out of sight.

"They might keep him for a day or so for observation," Isla is explaining as she hurries back to the van. "I'll text you an update when I have one?" This is to Remi directly, the other crew already hopping into the van so they can fuck the fuck off out of here. "His bike will have to stay here until he can come back to get it." She nods to the black motorbike parked nearby.

when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

I don't know who I am, I don't know who I'll be

By the time Isla finds him, Remi’s loitering near the van with his hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, the collar turned up against a wind that hasn’t started yet. He looks like a man waiting for instructions he knows won’t come, green eyes skimming the driveway, the windows, the porch, anywhere but the house itself.

"Yeah, that'd be great," he says when Isla mentions texting updates, but the words are a little distracted, his gaze going past her shoulder to where the EMTs are trying to get Ronin onto a stretcher. The Irishman’s waving them off with something between stubbornness and charm, already half-hauling himself toward the back doors under his own steam. Remi’s brows pinch faintly, and he exhales through his nose.

At the mention of the bike, his mouth twists. "I’d offer to take it, but my neighbourhood’s probably worse than leaving it here." A thin attempt at humour, maybe, but the glance he casts toward the motorbike is quiet, fond in a way he doesn’t let linger.

His own shirt clings to him, still soaked through, dark with water and blood that’s long since gone cold. Not the sort of thing that dries with time; it just grows heavier. He glances down, frowns at it, then lifts his head to Isla with a start like he’s only just remembered she’s standing there. "I—" he begins, then stops. An apology wants to form, crowding his throat with things that won’t help. Sorry I didn’t stop it. Sorry I helped it happen. Sorry it was Ronin. But none of it lands right, and after a quiet breath, he just shakes his head. "I’m really glad you were here," he says instead, voice low and rough around the edges.

but there's a light in the attic and I swear it's calling me

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3