8:10pm
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AU
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He was running late. Black brief case wildly hitting against his legs as he ran, a stack of papers barely still tucked under his arm, pressed against his chest tightly, a worried and frantic expression etched into his face. Crossing the road in a dash, he yelled a loud apology at a car that beeped loudly while passing him by a mere inch.
Crashing through the doors to the building, people looked up over at him, all looking unimpressed. The owner - an older lady - appeared out of nowhere, stopping him from sprinting up the staircase, eyebrow risen in an unimpressed look. He really should set more alarms. Dropping his brief case, he messily brushed back his dark black hair, fixing the papers that hung loosely and messily in his arm.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs Grace" he apologised quickly, fumbling for his brief case he dropped a few more times accidentally. Mrs Grace only sighed, shaking her head while pushing her glasses up her nose, staring at him disappointedly.
"You worked so hard for that damn attic, you think you can just turn up late everyday?!" She exploded, the man flinching back as he stumbled for apologises, picking up the items he continuously dropped in his anxious and adrenaline-pumped state. "I promise it won't happen again!" He quickly blurted, people from around them who were "accidentally" listening in all snorted, chuckling quietly to themselves.
"You make a fool of yourself everyday, Mr Caraway" Mrs Grace muttered, turning her nose up at him as she walked away to greet the people who walked in. Sighing, he watched her go, turning back forward to dart up the staircase, completely disregarding the elevator as last time he used it he accidentally got himself and four other people trapped - one of those people having disastrous claustrophobia, it was a mess. Mrs Grace was the most angriest she's ever been, and Caraway would rather never see that again.
After the many flights of stairs, he reached the top, mostly unused, floor and used the small key to unlock the mahogany wood door at the end of the hallway, locking it after him like Mrs Grace instructed on the very first day.
Finally calmed down, he moved up the small last staircase, his feet disturbing the layer of dust that settled on the ground. Breathing in the scent of old wood, he smiled to himself, the noises of the hotel underneath him silent from the attic, leaving him able to write in peace. Walking across the big room, he ducked under a few low hanging wooden bars, sitting on the broken leather chair, brief case landing on the table, next to the pile of papers he placed down first.
Unlocking and opening the case, he brought out a few things he would need, pulling open the draw to take out the many pages of paper he would use to write his story.
The reason why he did it here, in this attic, was because where he lived wasn't the most peaceful and quiet of places - seeing as he could only work in silence - this was the best place he could accidentally stumble upon.
Now here, he flicked over the first page, ready to start writing when a soft gasp left his lips, eyes staring at the words already written on the paper in cursive writing. He...he hadn't done this, and to his knowledge no one else could get up here, and he definitely locked the door last time. This pile of paper was left in this draw, no one able to access it, so how had someone written on it?!
Flicking the pages over and over, he must've gone past thirty before his mouth fell open, unable to move as he stared at the words that formed on the paper on their own. He couldn't help it, he screamed, jumping back from the desk. The chair behind him fell but he didn't care, running to the door, he crashed into it, forgetting it was locked.
Gulping in breaths of air, he fell out the door after unlocking it and slammed it shut with his foot, pressing against the wall opposite as his pulse raced with fear, eyes darting around him, ready to see the ghost that was writing on the paper, preparing himself to be possessed, to watch himself murder people without being able to stop it, to then go to jail even if it wasn't his fault-....
As he imagined it, he waited, and waited, and waited for that 'story' he created in his mind to come true, but felt like an idiot after he sat in that hallway for at least ten minutes with nothing happening. Standing up, he dusted his closes, walking with fake confidence back to the door.
He was probably seeing things, maybe going crazy from the lack of sleep. Walking in, he tensed upon closing the door, deciding against locking it as he slowly walked up the stairs, eyes peeking over the edge of the wall either side to stare at the desk. No one was there, and definitely no ghosts.
"I'm an idiot" Caraway muttered, walking back to the desk, but once again letting out a girly-like scream as he saw the words write themselves. He jumped, and cried out when his head hit with a wooden panel, collapsing to the ground, dust rose around him, making him cough and splutter as he crawled to the slanted wall, waving a hand in front of his face as he tried to breathe in air and not dust.
"What is happening?" he murmured, slowly crawling to be able to stand up straight without hitting the slanted roof, watching from a distance as the page turned over, more and more words being written without a writer.
Gulping harshly, he quivered, taking small steps forward until he was beside the desk, hands shaking as he quickly closed the makeshift book, gulping once again, eyes staring at it closely, wondering if the words were still writing themselves...
Taking a seat back at the desk, he peeked at the page, letting it close again when he saw the words continuing.
"This is crazy, I'm insane, I-I'll be sent to an asylum! Oh god" he muttered, rubbing his temples as his eyes closed, letting his breathing calm down as he tried to think of the most rational explanation, but nothing convincing was coming up.
Eventually, he turned to the first page, wondering what this 'story' that was writing itself was like. If it was good, it might give him a chance to become the famous writer he's always wanted! Or maybe...not, this wasn't his work, so would that be...cheating?
A literal ghost writer?
Snorting at his joke, he finally focused on the words.
The two best friends waited atop the roof, their dark eyes watching the sun set in the distance. It was mostly an uneventful day, they spent most of the time indoors, either sleeping or eating. It wasn't because they were lazy, it was because they needed to be ready for the night, when the villains came out to play.
Caraway shrugged, nodding a little in approval. The writing was okay, nothing to die for.
"Rude" One of the best friends - named Virgil - muttered, his other best friend nodding in agreement. Virgil wore mostly dark clothing, ripped jeans, purple and black jacket, with heavy boots on his feet. He needed to be able to hide from the villains, and besides dark clothes were apart of his life.
"Me" Caraway muttered, glancing down at his own dark clothes.
"Told you I wasn't the only one" Virgil shot at his friend, Logan, who rolled his eyes behind his glasses, adjusting them a little on his nose. Like his friend, he also wore dark clothes, but only at night, during the day he always wore a little colour - even if it was usually only blue. Finally, the sun set, and the two heroes walked to the edge of the building, looking down at the mostly empty streets below.
"Do a flip" Caraway joked to himself, leaning against his hand to hold his head up.
Virgil glanced at Logan, shrugging. Clicking his fingers, he jumped into the air, doing a flip before catching himself at the bottom with his flight ability, falling back into the shadows as Logan slowly floated down beside him. Both the heroes and the villains had the power to fly, but both had their own second power for themselves. Virgil could create lightning - preferably purple - while Logan had telekinesis.
"Ready?" Virgil muttered, glancing at Logan who nodded slowly. "As ready as I can be"
Caraway leaned back in his chair, tucking the make-shift book onto his lap to read in a more comfortable position, still not entirely believing the whole situation he was in. He carried on reading a few pages, finally becoming excited when the villains were mentioned.
"Virgil!" The book earlier mentioned this villain to be called Roman exclaimed, hovering in the air before him, his villain friend Patton beside him, giggling happily as he watched people below them run away and scream at the sight of the villains, even at midnight, the street lights showed them off perfectly.
"Princey" Virgil muttered back with anger-
"Why does he call him Princey?" Caraway murmured to himself, as the book hadn't explained beforehand.
Roman slowly narrowed his eyes, smirking a little at Virgil as a gesture for him to explain. Rolling his eyes, the hero closed himself off a bit, murmuring quietly as he spoke. "I call him 'Princey' because he used to act like those stupid princes from Disney movies"
Caraway was about to carry on reading when he let out a shriek, once again jumping back from the book. How did it just answer his question!? That couldn't of been a coincidence!
Rushing back to the book, he flicked the pages over, reading the first line on the page.
"Woah! We know you're confused but you do not skip pages in a book!" Roman quickly yelled, Logan nodding in agreement.
"No, no, what?!" He muttered, pushing over more and more pages.
"Dude! You're missing the story!" This time Virgil spoke, glaring as he did, arms crossed. "Kiddo, come on! You wouldn't want the ending to be spoiled!" Patton smiled softly, trying to coax the man nicely.
"...what's the ending?" Caraway asked hesitantly, eyes narrowed.
"Oh! I confess my feelings for Logan, and so does Virgil for Roman!" Patton explained, the others groaning as they face palmed in their own way, Patton muttering a quiet 'oops' as he did, quickly covering his mouth.
"How is a pre-written book answering my questions?" Caraway muttered, pinching his skin to see if he was dreaming.
"Better question you should be asking is how a book is being written on it's own" Logan commented, arm crossed over his chest, the other reaching up to fix his glasses that had fallen askew. They were still floating in the air, waiting for one of them to attack-
"So, you're really going to start back up the story?"
"Oh my Disney!" Roman huffed, stomping his foot like a child. "Will you just let us story?! You are ruining this for all of us!"
"Oh my Disney...?"
"I know, he's such an idiot" Virgil shook his head, smirking as Roman made 'offended noises'.
"Why am I still reading" he murmured, hands covering his face for a few seconds, but his eyes peeked through his fingers out of sheer curiosity.
"Imagine if this was on audible! That would be wild!" Patton laughed, floating over in the air to wrap Logan in a hug, the hero sighing but leaning into it. "Are you serious!? He hasn't even gotten to that stage of the story yet!" Roman yelled out but when Virgil moved to be pressed against his chest, arms loosely wrapped around him, Roman sighed, hugging him back.
"M'tired" Virgil muttered, Roman quietly agreeing with him.
"Hey, Kiddo?" Patton asked sweetly.
"Me?" Caraway replied questioningly.
"Yeah! Could you close the book so we can sleep?" He requested sheepishly.
"Oh..Yeah...of course, goodnight?"
"Night!" They all called back, afterwards quickly returning to their shared home, both couples laying in their shared beds, ready to cuddle up to their loved ones and sleep the night away-
"Dude, this is getting creepy" Virgil muttered.
"Sorry!" Caraway slammed the book shut, staring at the flimsy paper cover he made himself. Breathing in and out, he slumped back in his chair, a new book idea slowly forming in his mind.
With this...magic book he somehow possessed, he would 'talk' to these characters everyday as he wrote his own story, even getting some pointers from the characters.
He didn't know why, or how this had happened, but he was more than glad it happened to him.
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9:12pm