The Mansion On the Hill -a multi band fanfic-

7

Dallon Weekes... Where had Awsten heard that name before? Well, pacing around Remington's living room waiting for Emerson to get back from work wasn't going to help him figure that out but here he was. He hardly even noticed Remington watching him from the kitchen doorway with an amused gaze.

"Spaghetti or cookies?" Remington finally asked, startling Awsten.

"Uh... spaghetti?" Awsten replied, cringing at how unsure he sounded right off the bat. Remington nodded, heading back into the kitchen for a moment to start boiling the water, coming back crunching on a dry spaghetti noodle. "If you keep pacing like that the floor's gonna break under you," he joked. "What's got you so worked up anyway? It's just a name you're asking Emerson about."

Awsten turned to Remington, sighing. "You don't understand. He specifically told me, 'tell Emerson that Dallon Weekes sends his regards'. That's not a normal thing to say after you almost kill someone as far as I know. He knows something we don't, Rem. Something that has to do with Emerson." Remington blinked a few times at Awsten's response, taking one last crunch of the noodle before replying.

"Shit, you're right," was all Remington said before he walked back into the kitchen to check if the water had boiled enough, even if it had only been a few minutes. "What sauce do you want?" he called back to Awsten after a few moments. Awsten almost shrugged, but then stopped seeing as nobody was going to see that when he was alone in the living room. "Whichever you want, I don't really care all that much."

Just as Awsten was about to go back to pacing in his deep thoughts, the front door creaked open and Emerson headed in, slipping his jacket off of his shoulders and hanging it up on the door. He noticed Awsten and gave him a curious look. "Hey, Awsten. What's up? You seem troubled."

Awsten sighed in relief that the younger man was finally here. "I need to ask you something," he said simply. "About someone I met with."

Emerson seemed even more intrigued by this. "Alright, shoot. I'll give as much as I can." Awsten nodded, and took a deep breath. "Do you know a guy named Dallon?"

"Dallon...?" Emerson trailed off, signaling Awsten to finish that name.

Awsten huffed, quietly mumbling, "Weekes..."

Emerson's face paled, and he tried to play it cool, unsuccessfully. "Awsten, I need you to promise me something." Awsten tilted his head slightly. "What?" he asked, confused as he sat down on the couch. Emerson sighed. "Promise me, and I mean promise me, that you won't let him hurt you. He's normally a kind man, but he has... questionable methods of getting the blood he needs. And if he doesn't get any..."

Emerson didn't finish his sentence, he didn't need to. Awsten understood exactly what Emerson meant. "Alright. I won't let him. How do you know him, though?" He questioned. Emerson didn't seem to want to answer, so Awsten decided not to pressure him. "You don't have to tell me if it's sensitive information. I'm gonna head home," he glanced to the kitchen. "Once I get some pasta." He offered Emerson a smile and then headed into the kitchen, striking up a conversation with Remington.

Awsten didn't know just how much that promise was going to be almost broken.

(Slightly shorter chapter again, I'm gonna go back and edit last chapter, I wanna add smthn to it. Hope you guys enjoyed this one!)