HEY THERE, DEMONS

IV

"I do believe in the paranormal, that there are things our brains just can't understand, things bigger than you and me and all of this"

- Art Bell

They've tried the Ouija board, they've tried the spirit box, the infrared camera's, the motion detectors and the black light. They're tried the EVP, the UVA and the EMF - and Shane is still a skeptic. Olive told them secrets and statistics and details impossible for anyone or anything else to tell, yet here they were, still bickering like an old married couple.

("what's newtons third law? what's ryans mums name? What did beyonce name her twins? what's the speed of light? what's my favourite colour? why is water wet?"

"seriously dude, you just tried to ask a ghost why water is wet!"

However Olive just proceeded to explain to him how liquids make surfaces wet due to the electrostatic forces between molecules and that what we feel as wetness is actually coldness as the water evaporates.)

The two men stood crowded around the small kitchen island, tinkering with the tools in their hands and reviewing some of their previous footage. It was getting late, sleeping bags had been rolled out over her carpet and dinner was underway - well sort of underway.

"Shane are you serious! I told you we could have ordered takeout on the drive over if you didn't pack dinner!"

"I did pack dinner! It's not my fault the ghost doesn't have a microwave!" Rude, she thought, if she wanted a microwave she could totally have one.. Whatever that was.

"This house hasn't been touched for like 100 years dude, why would there be a microwave?"

"I'm sorry! What do you want me to say!"

"Whatever," Ryan sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Headaches tend to begin slowly then develop into pain radiating around your entire head - Shane however, was a whole new kind of pain in Ryan's ass, nothing slow about it "instant noodles aren't exactly dinner anyway."

Pasta? They were arguing over pasta? Oh, she could do pasta.

She travelled closer to the old wooden cabinets of the kitchen behind them. The kitchen, like everything else, like Olive herself, was old. The wood had splintered due to harsh treatment and as stained paint peeled where rot and dirt took it's place. She scanned the array of doors trying her hardest to remember the last time she actually did anything practical with the house, with herself.

With the slightest jerk of her head the small door rolled open slowly, like driftwood on the beach with the same softness new wood never has. The varnish that trapped its moisture must have been gone a few decades previously, maybe more, just tiny fragments remaining here and there. A creak so minor came in it's wake, quiet as a pin drop, impossible for any normal person to even notice. But Ryan's blood had been pumping with adrenaline all night, the constant fight or flight response roaring in the back of his mind only silenced for periods where he found it vital to listen in to every slight sound that goes bump in the night. Granted, every other time it'd happened tonight the sound was dismissed as the wind or a bird of some kind. Except, this wasn't a bird was it.

"Ollie," Ryan whispered in a stiff tone, cursing himself for sounding so timid "was that you?" The cupboard door was wide open now and inside sat a large rusty metal pot, chipped, damaged and collecting dust. She nodded towards the equipment and it clattered quickly, shaking like there were some sort of earthquake that affected only one object. It was quick and easy, like the approving nod of a girl desperate for someone to finally see her.

"Hey, a pot! Nice!" Shane laughed, gently knocking Ryan on the shoulder as he bounded forward and knelt down on the cool tiles to collect the bowl. It was heavy and cold to the touch but he seemed unfazed. Hell, he wasn't fazed by the literal ghost standing right beside to him so whats a piece of metal really worth? Shane stood again and carried the pot to the grimy old stovetop, and Ryan did not at all notice the way his shirt rose up a little over his stomach as he did so, exposing the soft pale skin of his abdominal as well as a faint trail of hair and God it damn Ryan stop it you're working! Oh something in this room is definitely working-

"Ryan? Are you even listening man?" Blood rushed to his cheeks as he suddenly realised how long he'd been staring. She could tell from his blush that just how much he really liked him. His usual even tone had a certain rosiness to it (she knew for a fact Shane found it was adorable) but this was different. This was almost as cute as it was incredibly amusing to watch.

"Sorry what?" He feigned a cough and a brought a hand up to his face, covering the heat he felt growing across his skin. Shane couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled out of his mouth but eventually ended with a small grin and a gentle wave of his hand to say, hey don't worry about it you freaking dork as if i could ever be mad at you. Okay maybe she read a little too much into that one.

"I said," Shane lifted his head triumphantly as if he'd made the most astounding discovery in history "we found a pot, that means I can cook dinner."

"We didn't find anything," Ryan argued, pointing a stubborn finger between the two of them before gesturing to the still open cabinet "the ghost wanted us to see that!" he urged and God that old wooden door really is annoying with all it's creaking and croaking, no wonder Ryan hated the sounds her old home made.

With the flick of her wrist the door slammed shut again and Ryan did nothing to hide his discomfort, letting out a high pitched yelp and taking fast steps backwards towards his friend, eye's never leaving the door. Olive noticed how they really were polar opposites, as Ryan's white knuckles gripped the counter top for dear life as Shane let out a howl of a laugh, doubling over at the sight of his friend so pale in the face. Ryan mumbled under his breath about the severity of the situation while his friend gave his all to try and compose himself.

Sure they're different, she realised, but they balance one another out. It was almost beautiful in a way. Messy and imperfect sure, but it worked for them. Her idea of beauty had always been written in stone, a perfect scene performed by the script, line after line delivered on beat, the raw simplicity of work done by the book. Williams idea of beauty was messily scrawled sheet music scattered generously around his office, a double bass sat tall in the corner of an overfilled bar, duke ellington and his orchestra. It wasn't long before she realised her idea of beauty was him. That messy and beautiful fit hand in hand, even if she'd been too blind to see it. She was not about to let these two be so blind as to miss out on what she did.

"Maybe the ghost just wants us to cook some ramen Ry." Shane laughed, reaching for his water bottle as well as the half opened packet of store brand instant noodles before Ryan could interrupt him with some dumb logic like 'we don't even know if the stove works you beanpole' or some other dumb ryan-like insult on his height that was annoying and not cute at all!

"Hey Ollie," Shane called into the void that was her house "you mind if we use your kitchen? I'll make you some ramen!" She was sold, bribery will get you everywhere - even if she couldn't technically eat. With the blink of an eye the kitchen stove beneath that tattered old pot lit up. The yellow flames flickered and danced with no thought of the oxygen or the fuel they consumed, which normally Ryan found calming but this time it achieved the opposite as his sharp breath stopped blank, caught in his chest.

Shane smiled watching the water begin to boil, "Thanks Ol," he laughed and knocked Ryan gently on the arm "Ryan can you go find me three bowls? We have a guest to feed!" Jesus Christ Ryan hated this house.