Page 13 of Haunted Mediation
“Welcome to Hell’s Haunted House. Two tickets for you?” he asked, holding up two wristbands.
“Yeah, thanks,” Leon said, pulling out his wallet and waving James away when he tried to pull out his.
“Okay, I have to check that you’re ready to encounter horrors of all kinds, and terrors like you can’t imagine. Like abandonment issues and the looming possibility of never being loved.”
Leon snorted, and James wanted to laugh because it was actually pretty funny, but instead, he felt like a clamp locked around his chest. He managed to wheeze out a short laugh, but he couldn’t quite seem to catch his breath.
“But, seriously, do either of you suffer from seizures, asthma, have a heart condition, or any physical, mental, or other medical condition you need to be concerned about? Please check the following boxes and sign at the bottom,” the kid said, picking up a clipboard and handing it to Leon.
Someone should hire him to read the warning label for drug commercials. He had the tone down and everything.
“Nah, man, I’m good,” Leon said. He accepted the form and filled it out in a few seconds before handing it back. “You good, James?”
“Yeah…I’m good.” James said, accepting his own form, checking no next to every box, signing, and handing it back.
James tried to shake off the joke, but it was doing a pretty good job of sinking its claws into his psyche. He didn’t have abandonment issues. By the time his dad finally left, it was good riddance. He was no good for James and his mom anyways.
But then, why did he feel like a part of his heart was being ripped out at the thought that his mom didn’t need him as much anymore? Was he afraid not just of never being loved again, but of never beingneededagain? ‘Cause if someone didn’t need him, then they’d probably leave him. Just like his ex, just like dad, just like it felt like his mom was going to do next.
James followed Leon away from the ticket table on numb legs. When Leon asked if James could put on his wristband for him, James could only grunt. Thankfully, he managed to do it with only a little fumbling, and when Leon offered to help in return, James’ brain couldn’t quite compute what it meant to accept the offer, until suddenly Leon’s hands were on his wrist.
With a gentleness that always surprised James, Leon pushed up the sleeve of his blazer and dress shirt. They didn’t want to stay up, so Leon had to push them up a second time, pressing his fingers into the tender skin of James’ forearm as he did so. Once the sleeves were finally in place, Leon dragged his fingers down to James’ wrist, causing goosebumps to break out along his arm. Even with the newly exposed skin, James was anything but cold. He hoped the chilly breeze would explain away his reaction, though.
Leon didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. He seemed to be concentrating hard on getting the bracelet on, avoiding catching any of James’ arm hair with the sticker.
He could have waxed James’ entire arm, and he probably wouldn’t have cared, because even though James was plenty capable of holding his hand aloft, Leon kept one hand cradled under James’ hand almost protectively.
James wasn’t sure if he’d even touched Leon when hastily putting on his wristband. Meanwhile, almost every one of Leon’s fingers brushed across James' wrist as he secured the band. As he let go, the callouses on his hand and one of his six rings brushed down James’ palm, and it felt like fire blazing across his skin. He could still feel it as they walked towards the haunted house, up the stairs, and waited to be let in.
After around five minutes, the person manning the door said they were good to go in, and Leon stepped in first, with James following behind. They entered into some sort of foyer with fake walls erected in front of them and to their right. There was only one way to go, and Leon led them in that direction, leaving James no choice but to follow.
Immediately the colors, smell, and even the temperature changed. The room was smaller, with lower ceilings that looked to be made up of branches and moss. It smelled like dirt and leaves, and as James looked around the dimly lit space, it seemed that was because there were in fact brown rotting leaves spread across the floor.
The room was around the length of Leon’s apartment, and the entire thing was themed like a forest. James hadn’t known what to expect from the haunted house, but if each room had its own theme, that was kind of fun.
They took a few steps into the forest, and a potted plant suddenly sprung at him, like a haunted venus fly trap. Jamesshouted in surprise and ducked out of the way. Leon let out a surprised huff and shook his head.
Before James could slow his pulse or try and regain any of his dignity that the first thing that got him in the haunted house was, upon closer inspection, a very fake looking plant, they walked a couple steps further down the path, and a snake literally flew across the room in front of them.
It was clearly made of rubber and must have been shot out of some sort of cannon or gun device, probably to be reloaded later, but all James saw was a flying snake, and he screamed again.
This time, Leon actually chuckled. He led the way around a very large bush set up in the middle of the walkway, and James cautiously looked around for anything on the walls that was going to jump out at him.
Of course, that meant he wasn’t prepared for something to go scuttling across his feet.
This time, he full-on shrieked, reaching an octave he hadn’t been able to achieve since starting T.
Leon absolutely cackled at that, having somehow managed to avoid the—Jesus, was it a large fake cockroach?—that had been pulled by some kind of wire across the ground.
“This is going to be how the whole thing goes. It’s literally a haunted house,” James said, going for growling but coming out a bit closer to whining. “You could at least be supportive.”
Leon raised that stupid pierced eyebrow at him. “Supportive? You want me to hold your hand and call you darlin’? Wouldn’t that make me as bad as you accused Zach of being?”
What he had meant was Leon could at least pretend to be scared so James didn’t feel pathetic about every jump and flinch. But Leon holding his hand…that sounded amazing and far too good to be true. But also…
“Really? Darlin’?” James snorted. “That’s the term of endearment you’d go with? I picture you more as a babe or baby kinda person.”
Leon’s lip slowly curled up into a smirk—which was unfairly attractive and not at all helpful. “There you go stereotyping again, little mensch. I like darlin’.”
