Mansion •5SOS• {COMPLETED}

{13}

Becca's POV

I was pretty sure that the next morning, everything was going to be back to normal and no one was going to bring up the strange sounds or the loud, angry shouts coming from my bedroom. Michael, Liz, and Tiff would make some pancakes or something and Skylar and Dylan would probably be all mushy and gross. So, Luke was too exhausted to even move his feet unless it was to the sofa in my room or to my gigantic bed. He insisted he take the sofa and I was too tired as well to even fight that I was a big girl and I could sleep on the sofa instead.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of soft snores and the smell of bacon. My eyes were still adjusting to the sunlight sneaking through the cracks of my huge curtains and I rubbed the crusty stuff out of the corners of my eyes. I glanced over at the sofa beside my bed and saw Luke out like a light, barely snoring but still noticeable. His dirty blonde hair was disheveled and flopping over his forehead. His bright blue eyes were covered by his eyelids and his arms were wrapped around himself in a self-hug kind of thing. His lips were parted slightly and his chest moved up slowly and went down at the same pace. I just sat admiring his features and the little things about him that just intrigued me. The clanging of pots and morning voice snapped me out of my trance and I was back in reality, sadly.

I slowly got up out of bed and made my way to Luke. I reluctantly poked Luke's face till his body moved and a sound of annoyance escaped his lips. He turned over on his other side, facing away from me and I groaned at his childish behavior.

"Luke, c'mon, you have to get up and head back to your room so no one knows what happened here," I persuaded.

"I'm too comfy," Luke whined in a sleepy tone. "Come back to wake me up in about four hours."

"There's food downstairs."

Luke's head shot off the pillow I lent him and his gorgeous blue eyes were wide.

"Food," he breathed out before nearly pushing me over and heading to the door.

"Lucas, wait!" I called after him and I started grabbing some clothes to wear so I wasn't chasing after him in my pajamas.

Once I had gotten some clothes, I practically skipped down the stairs to the dining room where everyone was eating their breakfast. When I reached the dining room, I saw Dylan laughing with Skylar, Luke was stuffing his face with bacon and french toast, and everyone else was chatting and eating. Luke looked up in my direction and motioned me over to the seat next to him. I strode over to the seat and sat down. Michael set down Gabby and Ella's breakfasts in front of them and Tiff gave me mine. I thanked her and admired how nice and normal this house finally was.

"I'm so glad you told me there was food," Luke said with his mouth full.

"No problem."

"Hey," Luke began. "Should we tell them about the little incident thing that happened last night?"

"They don't need to know there was a second one. Don't let them worry."

Luke nodded and turned back to his food.

"Make that three," a cold voice hissed loudly from somewhere in the room.

Everyone freaked out and started frantically searching for the supposed 'third ghost'. I spotted the chandelier rocking back and fourth. I got Luke's attention and motioned towards the moving chandelier. A figure started to form out of thin air. Once the figure was completely visible, I could see he was a man. He had rich dark brown hair, bright glowing green eyes, and a very formal outfit that looked out of this century. His smiling face came upon mine and his smile faded.

"I know who you are," he stated softly, floating towards me.

And I knew him too. The man I saw in my dream lying dead next to Ronson, the man who owned this house in 1870. This was Quentin Locke. My great great great grandfather.

"Becca, what's he talking about?" Luke whispered to me.

I stared at Locke with wide eyes.

"Becca?" Liz asked.

"You know who I am, don't you?" Locke smirked.

I nodded weakly.

"Becca, what's going on?" Luke asked, getting scared.

I gulped.

"Staff of Blackwood Manor," I started, still staring at Locke. "Meet Quentin Locke, one of the previous owners of Blackwood Manor."

(A/N: sorry this was short and sucky and stupid whOOPS)