There is a Monster under my bed

Anybody lost a pair of red sunglasses? Whoop. Too late. They’re mine now.

“W-Well... even if they, uh, w-were mine? I’d have to let you, k-keep them. They just look too good on you.”

Oliver was almost knocked over with the sudden force of Pascal’s hug. Oliver wrapped his arms around his friend, laughing, “Pas!”

Pascal squeezed him tight, nuzzling his nose into Oliver’s shoulder as he grabbed at the fabric of his shirt and just clung like a baby koala to it’s mother. “Where’d y...you go?” he barely whispered. “Did you have, uhm, a g-good time?”

I’m Back!

“Ollie...?” his voice came out in a mousy whisper. He looked up, eyes wide as they landed on his friend “Ollie!?” He tripped over himself standing up before he stumbled over to him. He threw his arms around him in an embrace, tears welling up in his eyes. “W-Welcome back!”

He obligingly lets himself be pulled away from the radio. He understands his brother’s discomfort with it, but he can’t help looking back at it with unbridled interest. There was just something about old things. And then it starts playing again, but the connection sounds absolutely horrible. Lullaby mixed in with static. Henry tilts his head and stares at it.

Pascal was almost okay, almost content with it. It was over, he had overreacted, that was fine. But then. Suddenly. His nightmares became reality. The radio turned back on playing this horrifying sound mixed between a creepy lullaby and pure hellish static. His breath hitched in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest and his hand clamped around Henry’s wrist so fiercely it was as if it would never unlock again. “H-...Henryyyy,” he whined, his voice laced in total horror.

“Enough? Pascal. I can walk, don’t you worry. I’m still good.” He mused, chuckling to himself. “However, you my fine friend should avoid the liquid devil. It’s no good for lovely young men like yourself.”

“I didn’t um... peg you for a-a, a do as I say, not as I d-do type of person.”

The line of his back tenses just slightly from the fear he hears in Pascal’s voice. O-Okay then. He unplugs the radio from the socket and the sounds cut off. That’s… really weird. It’s been going on for a bit. Maybe it’s just broken.

He nods a bit, jittery as he reaches out and tugs at Henry’s fingers. Broken... Y-Yeah... Broken. He mumbles to himself as he pulls his brother as far away from it as possible.

This thing keeps changing stations by itself. Is it supposed to do that?

As Peter looked to Pascal for answers, he quickly realized that he wasn’t going to receive good news. He held his breath, and then–

So, Pascal, aside from reading The Catcher In The Rye, what else do you like to do?

Oh... Um.... I draw?

Henry’s gaze shifted to the floor and he bit on his lip hard. He shrugged, then raised his eyes back up to look a Pas. “Dunno. Somewhere to eat?”

“Oh! O-Okay.” He looked down at his feet as he continued walking, sensing the tension in Henry’s shoulders. He swallowed hard, feeling like he was missing something. “Um... H-How about breakfast?”

You won’t know until you try, Reynolds. You might have some potential in archery, you won’t be as good as me but if you’re thinking of joining it wouldn’t be a total waste of your time.

Pascal chuckled at the other’s confidence. I-I’m sure I c-could never match up to you... Anyway... My hands s... shake... you know. I, um, don’t think I could keep it steady enough t-to.... Hit a target.