Brian's POV

The four of us all trailed along the well walked path, the others were happily chatting away, but I was on edge. Not even the crisp autumn air would calm me at that moment. I didn't like that guy, he was too calm. I could tell he was fake right away, no way could someone take down Jeff and domesticate him like that without being a fucking psycho. Not to mention he was jittery, like he had just gotten away with something.
I narrowed my eyes at him, scrutinizing his every move. His boots were well worn with stains, and his gait was wobbly in an indescribable manner. His eyes met mine briefly.

I almost threw up.

His eyes were gleaming like some kid in a candy store on his way to a house full of people that want him dead. Wide eyes, small pupils, a giant grin full of white teeth. They only locked with mine for a second, but I felt to shaken that I quickly hurried to Tim and locked our hands. His hands were muddy and rough, but it helped ease my anxiety a bit. They always did.
"I don't like this guy, Masky..." I hissed a warning from under my mask. He looked down at me with an expression of worry, but didn't comment. His grip only tightened to let me know we would talk about it later.

We came up to the drive a short time later, the mansion creaking sturdily in front of us. I heard that freak's voice make a snark comment on what a nice place it was, but I tried to dissociate him out of my mind and keep tugging Tim's hand along behind me as we entered the house.

As soon as we got in, I pulled Tim by the arm up the stairs with me to our room and shut the door so we could talk in private.

Jeff's POV

I saw Brian rush back to his room after we got home with Tim in tow. It looked urgent, but I wasn't particularly interested in whatever gay shit they had going on, I was mostly focused on y/n.
"Listen, there are a few people here who will probably not take kindly to you being here, but it's whatever since I'm here. Basically, don't try to get yourself killed." I lectured him as I kicked off my shoes at the door.
The house was old and huge, the wood was blackened on the ceiling and the rickety chandelier was looking like it would fall down at any time, as usual. The rug was an ugly red pattern, and the couch in front of the T.V. was pink and fading with age and use. Truly, nothing had changed in the months I had left, not even all the dust floating around with the weak effort to clean. "My room is up the stairs down the hall on the right, left side two doors in." I motioned to our luggage he had in his hands and on his back. He smiled back at me silently, dragging his bags up the stairs, a creak for every step. I watched him go, dropping my gaze to the rotting floorboards and narrowing my eyes to a glare.
"Come on out, we aren't strangers, are we?" I raised a brow at the figure in the shadows, noting his disapproving expression.
"Actually, there is a stranger," They clicked their tongue and stepped forward. "The rat you just let in the doors."