Strings and Buttons

Chapter 4: Button Key

He assumes that this door led to the other part of the house and boarded up when they sectioned it off. He knocks on the door, the sound echoing around the quiet drawing room. Nothing.

Now he had something to do. He walked out of the drawing room and back into the kitchen, where his mom is brewing another cup of tea. She is leaning against the counter, talking on the phone with someone.

"No, I didn't- Just listen to what I'm saying and get it fucking done! God damn..."

He opens a drawer where he knows they keep all the random shit. It's filled with tape, pocket knives, sticky notes, and some other small tools, though that isn't what he's looking for. He feels his mom's eyes on him as she talks and as he shuts the drawer.

He instead looks into the cupboard under the drawer, where he finds what he's looking for. He grabs the small box and rushes out of the kitchen when he knows the old hag isn't looking. The contents clink as he moves back into the drawing room.

The small cardboard box was filled with random keys, all left discarded or no longer used. They had found the box there when they moved in, and just decided to keep it around in case one of the keys opening something they needed.

Now he has the perfect opportunity.

He moves his hand through the box, feeling the sharp teeth of the keys and the smooth, sometimes rusty, metal. It's as he's looking, he spots the oldest, biggest, blackest, rustiest key from the box. He picks it up.

He notices that the key has a flat round end, with four holes in it. It looked like a big button on the end of the key. It must have been the style back then. Since the house was built and then sectioned off a long time ago, the flat that this led to was probably the unused one. He steps to the door and tries the key,

He hears a click, but the door doesn't open. Even when he pulls with the doorknob in his grip, He tries one last time, and only then does the door swing open.

Only to reveal a brick wall.

He stares at it for a moment, slightly disappointed and now irritated.

He slams the door shut and turns away, slipping the button key into his pocket and putting the box back where it was. He doesn't bother locking the door up again, since it didn't even lead anywhere to begin with.

Its nearly dark outside now, hours passing so slowly he thought the day would never end. The rain was still coming down, now accompanied by the sound of booming thunder that seemed to shake the house along with it.

It was then and only then did Katsuki's old man stop working to make them dinner. It was his job before he became a designer. He was a well-known chef, but deciding to help his wife when she was pregnant with Katsuki, he took on the other half of the business, switching over.

Being a chef was his dream since he was a little kid.

Katsuki had taken that away too.

The dinner is as quiet and dry as the rest of the day. They didn't bother making small talk, but at least the food was good. It always was. Katsuki does catch his parents' holding hands under the table as they eat, like they do every day.

Katsuki seems to be the exception between the love of the two adults.

He excuses himself after eating quickly, but not so fast that his old hag yells at him to have some manners at the dinner table. He goes to bed that night, in his half empty room and thinks as he stares up at the ceiling.

It's odd, having to see how much people change if you give them time. He listens to the creaking of the house as it settles and shifts, the beating of the rain and wind that never seems to let up, and the crackling and snapping of the thunder.

He waits like that, just staring, until the rain finally stops and the thunder leaves, the storm passing. He was nodding off by then, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Tomorrow will be the same.

And the next.

and the next.

and the next.

He hears a different noise.

t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-

He sits up, wiping the drowsiness from his eyes as he looks around.

kreeeeee

...... aaaaaak

He gets out of bed and softly walks to his door, opening it to look out into the dark hallway. He began to walk in the direction he thought he heard the noise at, walking past his parents' bedroom.

They were already both fast asleep, if the sound of their snores was anything to go by. He stops for a second, just thinking that he was imagining it. He had been hearing noises all fucking night, it wouldn't be a surprise if what he had heard was from the other residents of the house.

That crazy old mad upstairs in the attic was probably up to his bullshit again, talking to an imaginary audience about his just as crazy delusions.

Then something moves.

He sees it in the dark of the hall, rushing across. He swears to God, if it's a spider he's going to crush it under his foot into hell. Spiders pissed him off. Really, any bug that was inside the place he was sleeping grossed him the hell out, and that made him want to crush them.

The shadowy spider thing went into the drawing room, and he chased after it, struggling not to make any noise. He slides into the drawing room, not bothering to turn on the lights. If his parents saw that he was awake, they would lose their fucking minds.

It was best that he be as quiet and as discreet as possible.

He's going to kill that fucking spider.