Mystery Skulls - The Kink

Chapter 2

Arthur yelped and attempted to run, but the chains became taught and yanked his wrists back as though of their own accord. He wouldn't put it past this madhouse to have possessed chains or something; after all, only earlier today he had seen paintings and suits of armor move by themselves! Vivi and Mystery were probably still out there, looking for him, and Arthur sighed with the realisation that he might never see his gang again.
The thought was short-lived; he saw stars as he smacked the back of his head against the hard stone wall of the dungeon, the pain amplified by the previous knock to the head those pesky ghosts had given him. What had happened? The last thing he remembered was a pair of glowing purple eyes staring him down as he phased backwards through a wall. Some other stuff had happened involving a newly-awakened fetish but uh, Arthur wasn't in such a hurry to dwell on the embarrassing circumstances. And...oh, shit. Those eyes? There they were, right in front of him!

The blond man could do nothing but shake like a pitiful Chihuahua, the violent tremors making the chains clink behind his ears as the hulking form of the skeleton-ghost hovered above him. Silhouetted by a candle chandelier and the soft pink glow from its fiery hair, it looked formidable indeed. Arthur could make out nothing except the hair and eyes, and the expression on the skeletal face was unreadable, but then a pulse of gold caught his eye. His eyes wandered South towards the source and his breath caught in his throat - he recognised that. It was a heart-shaped locket, identical to the one Lewis used to wear, except...it was beating.

Wait. Wait just a ghost-busting MINUTE.

Arthur felt the cogs in his head beginning to turn. The hair. The heart. The obvious vendetta. The way the ghost had reacted to the name before.

Was this bag of bones...?

"Lewis...?" He ventured, his timid voice making him cringe. He saw the large shoulders of the spectre shudder, as though in disgust, and the glowing pink atop his head drew brighter as it raged into an inferno. Arthur wished he could raise his hand to shield his eyes from the brightness, but all he could do was squint.

"You do not get to call me that anymore." It said, in a voice dripping with malice. The hurt was written all over its face, and Arthur couldn't hold back the tears. They slid freely down his cheeks, and the skeleton...Lewis, looked a little taken aback.
"Tears...will not save you." He chided, assuming them tears of cowardice. He loomed over the much smaller man, balling his fists.

"I don't want to be saved." Arthur replied, softly. "I want you to do whatever you want to me, whatever will make you feel better." He blinked through his tears, wanting to convey how sorry he really was. He deserved no mercy, he knew that, and for once in his life his thoughts were not for his own safety, but for his long-lost friend whom he had betrayed.

"There is no way for me to take back what I did to you, Lewlew. I only want you to know that I didn't mean to do it, that I would never have done that were I not possessed...I..." he choked back a sob, remembering the look on Lewis' face as he had laid there, skewered on the rocks. If it had been that traumatic for him, it must have been a fraction of the pain Lewis had felt, for the last thing Lewis had seen was the face of his best friend as he had pushed him to his death. But, he also remembered a tinge of green creeping onto Arthur's arm, and wasn't one of his eyes glowing, too...? Lewis hesitated now, as his memory became clearer. That day was something he had skewered into nothing but revenge-fuel, but now he could put the pieces together for himself. Aruthur had ALWAYS been a ghost-magnet, maybe due to the fact he was the most frightened of them, and there had been many a time he had been possessed to walk into a trap or used as a puppet so that a ghost could talk to the rest of the gang. But this was the first time a ghost had actively had the power to use a part of his body against his will. Lewis grabbed Arthur's left arm, the arm that had pushed him to his doom, and sure enough it was made of metal. He used his other hand to push up the sleeve of the Tshirt, and what he saw made his (metaphorical) skin crawl. It was faint, but...there was definitely a green glow surrounding the fleshy shoulder, scarred by teeth and malice. He made an angry sound that echoed menacingly through the dungeon, bouncing off the walls and making the smaller man quake in his grasp. Lewis was frustrated; not because his torment of his friend had been for naught, but because there was a spirit out there that had caused such irreparable damage to his friends...and of course, himself. He couldn't fathom it - sure, they had made many an enemy in their journeys together, but why would someone do this to them?

Arthur gazed up into the stark white face of his friend, and almost felt relieved as the raging pink flames calmed and shrunk back to their normal state. Well, as normal as a flaming pink hairdo can be. Lewis sighed heavily, thoughtfully stroking in small circles with his thumb the area where metal and flesh met. Arthur wisely said nothing as he felt his face heat up at the intimate touch, which was just as well. Lewis seemed not to be in the talking sort of mood. Instead, he turned his head and looked, really looked, at his friend for the first time in so long. Lewis reached out a bony finger and swiped away a tear before he poked a slightly gaunt cheek - the blonde looked thinner than he remembered - well, Lewis had always been the cook of the group, so he suspected his friends might have been relying on takeaway trash for a while now. Arthur tried to not move a muscle as the finger traced dark circles under wide eyes - hmm, tired, too, but otherwise he was the same (apart from the missing limb). He still had that ridiculous goatee, the smell of motor oil and lemon, and puppy-dog eyes that seemed to beg 'please don't kill me' 90% of the time. Although right now they seemed to be more like 'why are you touching me?'.

Lewis stopped his ministrations for the moment, attempting to hide his awkwardness by folding his beefy arms in front of him and averting his eyes from the watery brown ones.

"Uh...Arthur." He started, voice too deep to seem calming or reassuring. The other man's mouth twitched. "Maybe you are telling the truth. But I am not certain yet."
Arthur's head sagged in defeat. He knew it. "You don't trust me."
Lewis quirked a brow. "Do you blame me? Your face was the last thing I saw, your hand the last thing I felt, and your laughter the last thing I heard." His hand brushed his own chest, sadly, and the golden heart stuttered at the memory under his fingertips, and Arthur flinched.

"I...was laughing?"

Lewis glared. "You were."
"Oh my god..." Arthur cursed. "That's..."
"SUUUUCH a dick move." Lewis offered, popping a hip and making a comical 'tsk' sound.

Arthur burst out laughing; despite himself and despite the touchy subject. He couldn't help it, the unexpected humor had caught him off guard. It was like his friend was back, like it was old times, and he smiled warmly before trying desperately to silence himself. He felt his stomach drop to his knees, and stared with furrowed brows at the unreadable expression on the skeletal face, terrified he had offended Lewis and undone all the progress they had just made.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!

But Lewis turned his back on him and floated silently towards the dungeon door, and it opened for him without a touch. He descended and stood there at the doorway for a few moments, and Arthur swore it was all over now. But the ghostly man turned his head to look back at the smaller one, still shackled to the wall, and the chains glowed a bright purple before unclasping themselves from his wrists. Arthur landed without grace on legs too wobbly to hold his weight, and he had to hold onto the chains for support. Lewis chuckled before turning on his heel to exit the dungeon. As the heavy wooden door closed, he had a few parting words.

"I like that laugh much better."