As the morning sun rises over the Easternmost hill of Heart Hollow, the Hotel’s ghastly exterior is bathed in an undeserving light. Normally at this time of day, guests and staff alike are beginning their ascent or descent through the winding mountain paths. Today, however, not a soul traverses on these old backroads. Instead, the only sounds that can be heard is of the thick summer foliage rustling while birds sing amongst the trees. It’s looking to be a peaceful sort of day up here in the Poconos.

Outside the sleek porte cochère, the sun baked signage for the Hotel doesn’t glow its usual Vacancy light. All of the staging lights on the exterior are shut off, including the usual ones that run during the daytime. Even the pink and purple stained glass entrance is locked to keep squatters out. The place has never looked more deserted.

Inside, the reception desk wears a worn brass sign that indicates someone will be back shortly. Lights are flicked off to preserve electricity, and the long hallways are eerily silent. Common areas are empty, elevators don’t ding, and doors don’t click shut. Aside from the gentle breeze of the central AC running, the Hotel’s interior is completely devoid of life and movement.

On the farthest back wall of the ground level, at the very end of the hallway, there’s an unsuspecting honeymoon suite. Atop the round mattress in the back of the room, there’s a heap of dark purple bedding that moves ever so slightly. Despite law enforcement's attempt at keeping people out, there is, in fact, one person still residing on the Hotel grounds.

The sun beams through faded raspberry colored curtains, and its rays slowly creep up to illuminate a sleeping figure buried under all those puffy blankets. His brow creases as he turns himself away from the sun’s intrusive wake-up call. After a few minutes of fading in and out of sleep, his tired eyes open for the first time that day. He takes a deep breath as his brain seemingly boots back up…

Oh… Yeah. That’s right.

He’s been sleeping in an abandoned Hotel hundreds of miles away from home. He doesn’t even have the promise of a job after all those police officers raided the Hotel and arrested Mr. Wright. He doesn’t have the means to get proper food aside from skateboarding down the windy mountain roads to the nearest gas station, and he’s debating on whether or not he's going to stay in Heart Hollow if Mr. Wright gets convicted. Oh, and now that he’s completely alone in this eerie place, he’s definitely anticipating a visit from the supposed ghost of Wallace Heartwood.

He can’t help but shut his eyes again; desperately, he tries to fall back into unconsciousness. It’s too late, unfortunately, as his mind is already reeling with the situation he’s found himself in. He decides to distract himself by checking to see what kind of notifications he’s acquired throughout the night. He reaches over the expansive round mattress and takes his old smartphone off the charger. His screen greets him with its harsh blue light and a few unread notifications.

Oh, it looks like it's double lives day on his favorite match three game. That’s something to look forward to, he supposes. He’s got a missed call from an unknown number. Not so strange, but it was from three in the morning; he wonders who that might have been. Oh, he’s got a very important social media notification begging for him to come back online… Instant swipe away. Aside from that, he’s got a few texts in his group chat with Cherry and Kara.

Kara:

hey numbnuts r u sleeping

loser ur missing out on some

fire smoke bro

fr its only like 10pm why r u asleep

Cherry:

Be nice :c

Kara:

??????????

girl ur sitting right beside me rn…….

Cherry:

So what!!!!

Anyways Zekey pleeeeease let us

know if you wanna stay over!! I can’t

imagine sleeping in that place rn all

alone is very nice 

He decides it would be the best for him to reply to these messages now before it completely slips his mind. He types out a quick text and hits send:

Zeke:

yeah ill let you guys know,

thank you. im really just waiting

to see what happens at andrei’s

trial before i up and move all

my shit again. blegh. 

He sets his phone back down in bed and then sits up to scratch his head through that messy auburn hair. As he looks around his honeymoon suite, he can’t help but feel an overwhelming sensation of complete stir crazy. He lets out a sigh. Maybe he should try to find something productive to do today.

He slides out of the thick covers and shivers a bit at the crisp air. Once up, he stretches his arms over his head and then begins his day. He trudges across the room and enters the small bathroom. Immediately upon entering, chills run up his spine as his bare feet touch the icy cold tile flooring below. He grits his teeth as he makes his way over to the toilet.

As he sits, he hugs himself to preserve any sort of warmth. His tired eyes meander towards the thin window just to his side. Outside, beyond the suite’s private balcony, he watches as the dense greenery of the Poconos sways and dances in the wind. His bleary eyes lose focus as he contemplates the day… Since the Hotel’s shut down, he’s been spending his time locked up in his suite watching channels on the old CRT TV or scrolling for hours on his phone. He’s bored and feels the undying urge to do something… Anything at this point, really. 

He stands up and flushes the toilet behind him. Now standing in front of the sink, he prepares his toothbrush. As he scrubs away the nightly plaque, his dark brown eyes meander up to his reflection in the mirror. His hair is matted and sticking up in all the wrong ways, while his eyes droop with exhaustion. He spits the minty foam out into the sink and rinses his mouth out.

After that, he tugs his hairbrush through his thick hair. Once it looks half decent, he leans into the mirror to get a better look at himself. Without fail, his eyes stare with disdain towards the pink scar that’s slashed through his right eyebrow. Remembering how he got it makes his stomach churn.

He trudges himself back into the bedroom where he collects some clothes for the day. He hoists up a pair of basketball shorts that are a few sizes too big for his frame. After sliding on a pair of ankle length black socks, he meanders over to the door. Just to his side, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirrors surrounding the suite’s heart shaped tub. He stares at his reflection for a brief moment before deciding to leave the confines of his room.

He steps gently through the hallway, bare socks padding against the matted pink shag below. He makes his way towards the ground level’s lobby, and his eyes shift towards the windows that peer out onto the pool and the patio. The lapping water on the surface of the pool is long overdue for a good skimming of dead bugs and loose leaves.

He isn’t exactly sure where he’s going, but his legs carry him up the staircase and into the rotunda upstairs. He meanders around the lobby, eyeing the absolute emptiness of the place. Usually he’d come say hi to Kara, but now all that remains of a receptionist is that brass plaque that mocks him. As he stands aimlessly in the lobby, he eyes the scuff marks and damaged parts of the walls. Through the moody purple paint, the previous baby pink pokes through.

He decides to poke around for the right bucket of paint. He checks behind reception, the closet between the managers’ offices, and even the laundry access. Eventually, after some search and find, he locates several paint buckets and the necessary brushes within the ground level’s maintenance room. As he’s rounding the corner into the main lobby with all of his painting supplies, he stops dead in his tracks as his eyes notice movement outside the front door.

Through the purple and pink stained glass, he sees a tall figure unlocking the lobby’s doors. Before he decides on whether or not he wants to duck and hide, the person makes their entrance. Both parties lock eyes, and Zeke immediately feels all the auburn hairs raise on his body. The teen squeaks out a small, “Lewis?”

“Ah,” Lewis halts where he stands, “hi, Zeke.”

“Uh. What’cha doing here?”

“I just needed to collect a few things from my office. That’s all,” Lewis says as he begins to make his way into the depths of the Hotel. Somehow, he doesn’t seem too phased to be running into Zeke right now. The brunette is at a complete loss for what to say; instead, his eyes just drop down to the outfit that the ginger wears.

First of all, the man is wearing a gray hoodie. The darker text atop his breast has faded with age and time, however it’s still legible. Lewis even wears jeans today, but the pant legs don’t quite reach past his ankles. Much to Zeke’s disbelief, he’s even wearing sneakers, although they look fresh and hardly worn. Under the strap of his messenger bag, Zeke reads that the front of Lewis’ hoodie says Heart Hollow Bucks. The year 1949 is encased within a football shaped icon. That must be their local high school’s team.

Lewis places a firm hand on the strap of his messenger bag as he asks, “can I - ah… Can I ask: what are you doing?”

Normally, Zeke would find some bold-faced lie to tell, but because of the very obvious painting supplies in his hands, it’s pretty clear what he’s about to do. So, he says, “I’m about to fix up some scuff marks on the walls. They’ve been bugging me since I got here.”

“Right,” Lewis hums, his light green gaze falling down towards the comfortable outfit that Zeke wears for a mere moment; the brunette feels his stomach knot at Lewis’ wandering eyes. In a flash, their eyes lock once more in an unusual silence.

This isn’t how Zeke imagined his morning going. Actually, now that he thinks about it, he should probably explain why he’s here. After all, Lewis’ eyes pry him for information. Zeke forces out a halfhearted smile, “so, uh, yeah. Surprise! I’ve been living here. In - in one of the honeymoon suites. Downstairs.”

He waits for Lewis’ face to contort, or for his head to nod to the side, or for him to react in some way physically.  Then, after a moment, he simply says, “I know.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean you know?”

“I mean, I’m here anywhere between forty to sixty hours a week,” Lewis half-heartedly laughs, “there’s not much that happens under this roof that I don’t know about.”

“Oh,” Zeke hums.

“I never saw it as an issue. Actually, I… Well. I suppose I was a bit worried about you having to find a new place.”

“You were?”

Lewis just nods his head, although his eyes are glued elsewhere within the large lobby. He clears his throat before he gestures towards Zeke’s painting supplies, “I can give you a hand, if you’d like.”

“What? With dabbing up scuff marks on the walls?” The brunette clarifies, a little grimace forming at the corners of his mouth.

“If you’ll have me. Sure.”

Zeke’s grin widens as he sets the paint bucket down on the marble top of the reception desk, “you bored or something?”

“Incredibly so. My goodness, I haven’t a clue on what to do with myself without work at the Hotel,” Lewis laughs woefully as he runs a hand through his ginger curls.

“Pfft. Alright then, Mr. Workaholic. Be my guest,” Zeke hums back playfully, seeing the excitement form on Lewis’ face as he immediately discards his messenger bag off to the side. He can’t help but watch as Lewis takes off his hoodie, revealing a plain cream colored tee underneath. He folds the garment neatly and sits it atop his messenger bag. The two then work together to pry the lid off the paint can. Once it’s open, they pick up paintbrushes and get to work scouring the lobby walls for imperfections.

“What else have you been doing around the Hotel since Andrei’s arrest?” Lewis says, making hopeless small talk.

“I’ve mostly been vegging out in my suite. Oh, and scouring for food and stuff. I’ve made a sizable dent on that box of snacks you bought. Sorry about that,” he grimaces awkwardly.

A warm smile makes its way to Lewis’ face before he’s able to respond, “no need to apologize. I’m glad you’ve been eating.”

Zeke stifles that same warm smile back as he focuses on the task at hand. He decides to redirect the same question back, “what have you been up to?”

Lewis’ face softens with gentle surprise. It takes him a moment before he says, “I caught up on cleaning around my apartment. Goodness,” he laughs, “I opened my curtains and I was appalled to see a thick layer of dust over everything I own.”

Zeke smiles sympathetically; did Lewis just admit to keeping his curtains closed all the time? The ginger continues, “I finally got around to clearing out my closet and my kitchen. I donated a lot of stuff that I hardly use, so I’m glad it could go to a better home. Oh, and I even ran to the grocery store and made dinner for myself.”

Zeke laughs out loud to this, “Lewis Lockheart consuming anything other than coffee with oat milk? Completely unheard of.”

His cheeks tinge pink as he smiles, “I know. All this time to myself has been life changing.”

“It’s almost like working sixty hours a week for a boss that exploits your work ethic is a bad thing,” Zeke plays, peering over towards the man he works alongside.

Lewis’ shy smile deepens, “almost.”

“Sounds like a busy week then for ya, man.”

“Oh? That was just Tuesday.”

Zeke furrows his brow as he peers over at his boss. All he’s been doing is watching TV, playing mobile games, and eating the remainder of his snack stock. He inquires further, “so… What’d you do Wednesday and Thursday then?”

“Ah… I spent some time with my parents; I decided to deep clean my childhood bedroom while I was there. Oh, and I got to see my little sister. She’s usually so preoccupied with her friends or with softball these days,” he smiles earnestly. 

Zeke hides a grimace. Lewis’ sister plays softball? He can’t help but wonder what the probabilities are of a family having two gay children. Instead of making an ill joke about that, he decides to ask, “Lewis? Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“That’s an insane amount of work to do in, like, three days.”

Lewis smiles, “I like to stay busy. You know that.”

The teenager peers over at his boss with comradery, “even when you’re on vacation?”

“I’d hardly call this a vacation. But sure.”

“Could not be me,” Zeke shakes his head, eyes glued to a particularly bad indent in the wall that he gently patches up with paint, “I’ll take any excuse I can get to loaf around and be lazy. Life is go-go-go enough as it is.”

“You’ll have to teach me how to do that at some point,” Lewis responds, and Zeke laughs at this comment. In the corner of his eye, he watches as Lewis’ chest puffs with pride from his funny statement. After a few moments of comradery, the lobby quiets down again. The gentle sound of brush bristles stroking the walls suddenly seems very loud. Lewis speaks up again, “so… I can’t help but ask - and forgive me if this crosses a boundary - do you have a plan if the jury concludes that Andrei is guilty?”

Zeke shrugs, “not really.”

“Are you… Planning on staying in Heart Hollow?”

“Maybe. I might just go back to wandering the countryside.”

Lewis lets out a very small, “oh.”

The brunette doesn’t like how downtrodden the man seems about the possibility of his departure. So, he adds, “again though; I really don’t know just yet. I’mma wait to see what happens at the trial.”

“Right,” Lewis hums. His Adam’s apple bobs as if he were trying to say something, but can’t find the words exactly. After a few moments of deliberation, he finally suggests, “if what you need is a couch to crash on…”

Zeke’s face softens as he peers over to the guy. Lewis keeps his attention towards patching up the mistreated lobby walls. The emotion on his face is hard to read; it’s a mix between slight discomfort and shyness. Zeke just puts his free hand on his hip, “I’m sure you hear this all the time, but you’re a good guy, Lewis.”

This catches the man’s attention as he darts his baby green eyes over towards his assistant. Apparently Lewis can see that Zeke is being genuine, as an honest smile rests on his face. He hums out a small, “thank you, Zeke. That means the world to me.”

“Yeah, man. Of course,” he responds lightly, before moving his attention back towards scouring the lobby wall. After a moment, he adds, “Cherry and Kara offered me their couch too. It’s kinda refreshing to know that people got my back here.”

Lewis nods his head gently. It takes him a moment before he says, “I’m surprised you haven’t taken them up on that offer. From my understanding, you’re close with them.”

“I mean, yeah,” the brunette shrugs, “we’re coworker buddies though. We haven’t hung out outside of work or anything. Guess I just don’t want to overstep.”

“Ah. Yes, I can understand that,” Lewis smiles knowingly.

Zeke smiles too, because he knows if anyone were to understand his issues with mixing work and personal life, it’d be Lewis. During the lull in conversation, a gentle humming begins to sound from Lewis’ person. He reaches into his back pocket for his phone, and his shoulders slump a bit as he reads the caller ID on screen, “ah… Excuse me, Zeke. It’s my mom.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re good, man,” Zeke responds, watching as the ginger walks towards the reception desk to place his paintbrush down atop the paint can. Somewhere within him, Zeke wishes his mom would call him too.

 The ginger answers the phone call with a light, “hey, mom.”

While Zeke can’t exactly make out the other side of the phone call, he does listen intently to what Lewis says. Into the phone, he says, “yeah, I’m out of the apartment right now,” as if that were something unheard of. As his mom responds, he paces mindlessly.

“Ah… I’m actually at the Hotel. I was just collecting some of my things,” he says, despite the fact that he got sidetracked doing work around the old defunct place instead of letting it go. After a moment, he continues, “the state attorney had asked me to collect some evidence against Andrei. I’ll be meeting with her later this afternoon.”

Zeke finds this statement interesting; the guy loves the Hotel with every fiber of his being. But does he really despise Andrei that much to help put the guy in jail? After a few moments, Lewis continues, “I know, mom. I’m just going to be giving her the facts as Andrei’s second in command.”

As his mother replies, the ginger meanders up to the front of the Hotel’s towering double doors. The morning sun drenches him in a pink and purple light through the stained glass. He eventually responds, “I’ll consider consulting dad if I get stuck. But, really, I have confidence that I’ll provide the right information. From my understanding, there really isn’t a lot of gray area.”

He stares out the window as the phone’s tinny speakers indicate her response. Eventually, he just says a simple, “I know, mom. I’ll be careful. Thank you for being worried about me.”

After a moment, he says, “okay, mom,” and then she says something back. He responds, “yes, I’ll let you know how it goes at dinner,” and it’s only a moment later that he finally says, “I love you too. See you tonight, then.”

With that, he drops the phone down and ends the call. His shoulders slump slightly as he peers down at the screen. After a moment, he looks over his shoulder, and the two meet eyes.

Zeke can’t help but ask, “you good, man?”

Lewis nods his head, but there’s apprehension behind his movement. He slides his phone into his back pocket before making his way back up towards reception. Zeke just watches him as he adds, “so… You’re here to get some info against Mr. Wright?”

“Well… They’re just going to be asking me a few questions in regards to him. I’m going to answer truthfully. What they do with that information is theirs.”

“Right,” Zeke hums.

“I’ll… Be alright,” Lewis says to almost self-soothe, because he doesn’t sound so convinced himself.

Of course Lewis dropped everything to start painting walls; he wanted a distraction from the impending obligation later this afternoon. Zeke shrugs as he finds himself saying, “if you want, you should text me with updates about Mr. Wright’s case.”

This comment must have taken Lewis by surprise, because the guy doesn’t respond. Did Zeke say the wrong thing? That must have overstepped their co-worker boundary. He looks over his shoulder at the guy. Lewis’ attention is towards the reception desk, mindlessly running a freckled finger over the bandages that conform to his right fist. Zeke decides to say, “you don’t have to, if you don’t want.”

“No, no,” Lewis stammers, meeting the brunette’s gaze, “I’m - well, I suppose I’m just… Taken aback by your interest. That’s all.”

“Well, sure, man. I mean, I’d like to know if my housing and employment are gonna fall through for good.”

Lewis just responds with a short, “right,” as he picks up his paintbrush to get back to his unpaid labor. He seems a little dejected now, and Zeke isn’t sure if it’s because that phone call forced him back into the real world, or if he said the wrong thing to the guy.

Sure, he suggested that they text due to Mr. Wright’s arrest, but there’s more to it than that. Truth be told, Zeke’s been kind of lonely up here without his crew. He misses Kara’s teasing, and he misses Cherry’s comradery. Sure, they have their group chat, but it’s different in person. He’s even found himself missing Lauren’s eyebrow raising remarks and Rosa’s constant gossiping. Oh, and he definitely misses Becka’s guard-dog-like presence throughout the night.

Surprisingly, he misses making Lewis’ coffee in the morning. Zeke got acclimated to popping into his closet-office every hour or so, and he definitely got used to the little words of encouragement that the guy would give him upon completion of a chore. Damnit, he’s even found himself missing Lewis’ occasional nagging. If the assistant manager were around, he sure as hell wouldn’t be loafing around in his suite the whole day feeling bad for himself.

Zeke sighs.

It’s not like he could tell any of that to him though.

Instead, Zeke just basks in his time spent painting a wall with the guy, and he supposes that he’ll just have to look forward to hearing from him later this week via text.

❧

It’s been a few days since Lewis’ surprise arrival at the Hotel. Zeke’s gotten plenty of texts… Plenty from Cherry and Kara, that is. He hasn’t heard a single thing from his ginger boss. He furrows his thick brow as he peers out towards the massive floor-to-ceiling window that hugs the rotunda. He currently sits within the conversation pit with his phone in hand. On the screen, his favorite match-three game asks if he wants to continue his journey.

Would it be weird to text him first?

It’s clear that the guy doesn’t want to talk.

He watches as a few clouds idly drift by in the midday sky, and he lets out a much needed sigh. After a moment, he dips his attention back towards his phone as he pulls up his texts between him and Lewis. Zeke’s eyes linger on the delivered tag under his previously unanswered text asking if Lewis had been fired. It was just a week ago that they went and saw downtown Heart Hollow. A beloved wife buried under a sacred tree, a bold lie to a restaurant full of people, an encounter with an ethereal buck, and a mirror shattering under the weight of a fist.

Zeke’s thumbs linger over the keyboard as he thinks of something to say, but he can’t shake the image of Lewis’ reflection trying desperately to get ahold of himself. After several drafts and lots of consideration, Zeke decides to send the first text:

Zeke:

hey man. just wanted to see

if youre still down to chat about

mr. wright’s trial. lmk, im literally

not doing anything else.

He can’t help but stay on that screen for a few moments, just to see if that delivered will turn into a seen. Of course it doesn’t. He opens up his match-three game to continue. Even though he swipes at virtual icons with his finger, his mind is elsewhere.

The direction his life takes really depends on what happens at this trial. If Mr. Wright is to be convicted and sent to prison, what happens to the Hotel? Obviously Zeke can’t stay on the Resort grounds. He could get an apartment or crash on someone’s couch… But, honestly, he never really planned to stay in Pennsylvania for this long anyways. This was just a temporary resting place to relax for a bit; to kick his feet back and lay low. All he wanted was to make a bit of money before continuing on in his wayward journey. Of course, there was also the option of returning back home…

He brushes that thought aside as fast as it had arrived.

Goddamn, he just wishes that Lewis would text him back. Maybe he could plan his life accordingly based on which way the trial is looking to go. As he runs out of moves on his game, he curses himself for being distracted by his own brain. It asks if he’d like to try again, however he closes out of the app and opens up his text messages instead. The text to Lewis still mocks him with delivered.

Feeling frustrated, he decides to open up his group chat with Cherry and Kara. He scrolls up a bit to see their previous conversation from last night; they had been talking about Cherry’s most recent gaming stream. He laughs looking at the pictures of the virtual house that she built that took the shape of a human sized cat tree.

He decides to shoot them an inquiring text:

Zeke:

either of you guys heard

from lewis since friday?

Almost immediately, he gets responses back from them. He smiles, knowing that they’d never leave his notification hanging.

Kara:

ew no

legit why would u wanna hear

from him anyways

Zeke:

idk i wanna make sure

hes not imploding in on

himself without the hotel.

Kara:

weirdo why do u care so much

Zeke:

chill out for 2 seconds

little ms edgelord.

besides hes supposedly

involved in the trial.

Cherry:

Wait how do you know that :0

Zeke:

he stopped by the hotel

for a bit a few days ago to

grab some stuff for the

state attorney i guess.

For a few minutes, he doesn’t get a response. However, he does see a text bubble pop up indicating that someone is typing something. It comes up for a moment, and then disappears for a moment. It comes up, and then it’s gone. Eventually, Cherry texts back.

Cherry:

Did anything else happen

while he was there?

Zeke:

idk dude we painted

the lobby and his mom

called him lol. he grabbed

some stuff from his office

and then dipped. havent

heard from him since.

Kara:

any deets about the trial tho

Zeke:

zilch. i asked if he could

like text me with updates

about it but i havent heard

from him. dude is an

awful texter.

Cherry:

Will you please let us know

if you hear from him? Or if he

stops by the hotel again?

Zeke:

yeah ofc. same here,

if you hear from him lmk.

just wanna make sure

he didnt commit.

Kara:

Lmao

Cherry:

Of course Zekey. Please

please PLEASE let us know if

you need somewhere to stay

okay?? Our door stays open

for you always c:

Zeke:

ofc. thank you

guys. seriously.

Cherry:

<3

Kara just responds with a gif of a blonde girl giving a playful wave using only her middle finger. Zeke can’t help but feel grateful for these friends he’s made. There’s this stinging in the back of his throat as he thinks about having to leave them behind if he decides to leave this weird little town. He checks his messages with Lewis one more time. It still reads as delivered. He simply wonders: how long will Lewis ignore the notification?

Maybe he really doesn’t want to overstep that little work-life boundary Zeke had put up. He can understand that. He respects that, actually. But, he’s also extending the explicit invitation right now. Even if it’s just to chat about the attorney’s findings, Zeke wants to hear about all of it, and he told Lewis that. Hell, if the guy wanted to talk about how hard it is to help the state put his old boss behind bars, Zeke would be willing to listen. Happy to, actually. Elated, even.

Zeke catches himself and furrows his brow in frustration.

Maybe Kara had a good point… Why does he care so much?

❧

To say Zeke is going stir crazy is an understatement.

The guy’s done just about everything he could think of at the Hotel. He’s done usual chores, such as vacuuming the lobby, cleaning the conversation pit, and wiping the windows. He’s poked around some rooms he never really got to explore, like Lauren’s maintenance access areas. He thought about seeing what Mr. Wright had been hiding in that big oak desk of his, but decided against it. He doesn’t want to tamper with evidence, or something along those lines.

Oh, and he’s just about out of food now too, so he’s had to skateboard down the hairpin curves of the mountain to stock up at his nearest gas station. He’s getting awfully tired of eating microwave ramen and mac n’ cheese for dinner every night. He’s considered ordering delivery, but that’d be a dead giveaway that someone is still living on the Resort grounds.

Zeke’s gotten so bored, in fact, that he’s decided to teach himself how to play pool with the raspberry felted pool table on the ground level. Of course, he’s got plenty of online videos to help hold his hand as he plays. Actually, the game itself is way more straightforward than he was anticipating.

Right now, he circles the table with a freshly chalked pool stick in hand. He’s only got the striped green fourteen, the striped orange thirteen, and the black eight ball remaining on the table. The plain white cue ball isn’t really in a great spot this shot, but he still stares at the table to determine his next move. Maybe if he knicks the green’s side, he can get it into the hole on the far side of the table. Bending over the pool table, he gets his sight as in-line as possible with the shot.

Just as he’s about to nudge the stick forward onto the cue ball, his attention is quickly pulled towards movement in his peripherals. Quickly, he peers over, and he almost anticipates seeing nothing; although, padding down the steps is none other than Lewis Lockheart. He wears that same gray high school football hoodie from their last surprise encounter. It seems as though he’s just as surprised as Zeke, because there’s a moment too long of stumbling silence.

Zeke doesn’t peel himself off the pool table until he watches as Lewis’ eyes linger a little too long on the oversized tee and gym shorts that he wears. Zeke barks out whatever comes to mind, “dude. The least you could do is, like, shoot me a text to let me know when you’re stopping by the Hotel.”

Lewis winces at his tone, “I didn’t think of that.”

“Mmhm. Didn’t even text me about the trial either.”

His green eyes dart elsewhere, “I know. Sorry.”

“So,” Zeke’s shoulders slump a bit, “why didn’t you?”

Still a few stair steps up from the floor, Lewis cocks his head from side to side as he deliberates, “I - I don’t really know what I can say in regards to the trial. Confidentiality, and all that.”

“Then just text me and tell me that, man,” Zeke grumbles. He’s got the butt of the pool stick down on the carpet below, and one hand grabbing at the body of the thing as if it were a walking stick.

Lewis smiles sheepishly as he begins his lateral descent down the remaining few stairs, “I - yes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s cool, I guess. Just… God, dude, at least give me some sort of signal that you’re still alive.”

Lewis dips his head, and his freckled hands entangle within one another nervously. He simply states, “I appreciate your concern. I’m still alive and well, though.”

Zeke purses his lips and directs his gaze towards the pool table. It’s not like he’s been anxiously laboring over the man’s wellbeing or anything. But… Damn. He’s been watching the guy swim through mud since he first showed up to this scummy Hotel. Mr. Wright’s persistent neglect, an onslaught of extra work, their encounter with Cupid, his collapse under pressure… Oh, and the most recent turn of events being Mr. Wright’s arrest, of course. Zeke can’t imagine how excruciating it must be to testify against his old boss. Someone that took him in, someone that supposedly took pity on him.

Zeke peers back over towards the tall ginger. By the way Lewis wrings his hands together, he looks pretty nervous. Actually… Zeke notices that he no longer wears those bandages on his right fist. Brightly colored scabs dot each of his knuckles, the pinks and yellows contrasting against his fair, freckled complexion. However, there’s still some dark blacks and reds atop his pointer and middle knuckles. From the looks of it, Lewis’ right fist is going to be scarred for the next foreseeable future.

Lewis must have felt his assistant’s prying gaze rest on his fists because he drops his hands down and crosses his left hand over his right; Zeke’s attention darts back up to meet the guy’s gaze. Lewis clears his throat before he decides to change the subject, “I, uh - I didn’t know you played pool.”

“Oh. Nah, I don’t. I mean - not until this weekend, I guess,” Zeke hums back, placing the pool stick back up into his place on the wall, “why? You wanna play a game with me?”

A coy smile wipes across Lewis’ face, “maybe another time, Zeke. Ah… I’m kind of here on business today.”

“Right,” Zeke says, his shoulders slumping a bit in defeat. This guy sure is reluctant to kick back and have a little fun every now and again. He decides to ask, “what’cha here for then?”

“Well… The state attorney had asked if there was any other information I could collect regarding Andrei’s mismanagement of the Resort’s funds. Andrei’s been keeping documents stored in the Club of Hearts… I figured I’d start there.”

“Ooh,” the teenager lights up, “hell yeah, let’s check it out.”

Lewis’ thin ginger brows furrow lightly, “let’s?”

“Yeah. C’mon,” Zeke hums, inviting himself on this journey. He traverses across the hall with confidence, heading straight towards the huge wooden double doors that lead to the old Club. He tugs at the heart shaped handles, but the doors don't budge. He peers over his shoulder at Lewis hopelessly; the ginger walks up behind him with a bit of hesitancy with each step. He pulls up a relatively uncluttered key ring, and the bits of metal clink together, “one step ahead of you.”

“I thought you didn’t have keys to the Club,” Zeke hums, stepping to the side as Lewis fiddles with the lock.

Through ginger lashes, Lewis’ baby green eyes flash up towards his assistant for a mere moment as he hums out, “I don’t.”

“Oooh,” Zeke lets a wicked grin form on his face.

Okay, so maybe Lewis does know how to have fun.

The Hotel’s assistant manager tries a few different keys. Finally, they both hear a deep, satisfying click that promises that their investigation will go on. Lewis pulls back the heavy door for his assistant so that he may wander inside the dimly lit room. Zeke is immediately greeted by the shimmery curtains of the entryway. The only thing that’s missing now is that huge metal signage that promotes the Club of Hearts’ name and logo; unfortunately, all that has been dismantled and shipped out to god-knows-who in god-knows-where.

As the door closes behind Lewis, the room gets increasingly darker. Zeke’s eyes take their time adjusting as he wanders deeper into the catacombs of the Hotel. Moody lights remain illuminated over the Club’s bar; somehow it looks even lonelier than the ground level’s public bar that sits just a few walls away. The booths up on the top level are littered with all sizes of cardboard boxes. He peers down towards the lower level of the Club where sparsely placed dim lights promise more boxes to explore. The brightest spot within the Club is the stage; spotlights drench the shimmery curtain in show-worthy limelight. There is, however, no star to take center stage.

Lewis’ eyes meander around the top level; Zeke can tell that he’s deciding on where he wants to start his investigation. Eventually, he says with a sigh, “I suppose I’ll start sifting through some of these boxes up here.”

“Cool. I’ll start digging around too,” Zeke says, traversing down the small staircase leading towards the bottom level, “what am I looking for? Just… Budgeting paperwork?”

Lewis takes a moment to respond; honestly, Zeke is anticipating for him to deny the request to help. However, much to his surprise, the manager says, “anything along those lines, yes. We’re specifically looking for evidence within the last five years or so.”

“Got’cha,” he responds, eyes peering up towards the stage. He can’t help but wonder about what’s hiding behind those shimmery curtains. Instead, he decides to start with one of the cardboard boxes that lies atop a booth’s table. Touching the boxes’ lid, his fingers immediately feel a caked layer of old dust. As he rummages through its innards, he hears Lewis do the same on the ledge above him.

There’s several minutes of silence as the two men search. Zeke is mostly finding random bits of paperwork within this box; receipts for purchases, routine inspection notices, maintenance logs, etc.. He moves onto another box, this time finding yellowed, frail paperwork that dates back to the nineties. Probably not what he was looking for. After a little bit more searching, he decides to check in with Lewis, “you find anything yet?”

“Hm,” the ginger hums before continuing, “I found some paperwork from the year I started working here. That’ll be helpful. What about you?”

“Nothing yet,” Zeke says as he rustles through another box, “would be better if the old man actually organized anything down here.”

This comment makes Lewis laugh a real, honest laugh, which makes Zeke smile too. The ginger peers over the ledge towards his brunette assistant and says, “I’ve been trying to persuade him into letting me organize things down here for years.”

“I believe it,” Zeke says, peering up towards the man, “and I believe I know why he never let you set foot in this room without his express permission.”

Lewis nods his head real fast, his ginger curls bouncing in agreement, “I can’t believe I didn’t think anything was going on behind these closed doors.”

“I dunno. It’s not like the guy gave you much time to think,” Zeke starts, dipping his head back down as he rummages, “you were busy juggling both his job and your job. And I’m assuming that he was only paying you for one of those roles.”

To Lewis’ silence, Zeke peers back up towards the upper level’s ledge. After a moment, all he says is, “that’s an interesting way of looking at it, Zeke,” before getting back to digging.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“That’s why I’m a little… Dumbfounded, I suppose. I had just never thought of it that way. For me it’s been an honor to take on more responsibilities around here.”

“And that’s how he manipulated you into doing it,” Zeke retorts, eyes cast down as he glances over bits of paperwork. Lewis is silent yet again, which makes Zeke feel like he said something wrong. He gives the guy some space to respond, but after a few moments, the teenager speaks up again, “you okay, man?”

Between paper rustling, Lewis just says a simple, “I’m okay.”

Zeke doesn’t know what to say now. He realizes that he isn’t even absorbing the information on these sheets he rummages through; his head is too busy thinking of what to say. After a moment, he decides to just open his mouth, “I’m sorry that he was treating you like that, Lewis. You deserve better.”

The paper shuffling stops for a moment, and Zeke feels as though he’s only making this situation worse. Lewis finally speaks up, “thank you, Zeke. I believe that it’ll all work out as it’s supposed to.”

Zeke bites his cheek, and he decides not to say anything more. As he continues with their investigation, he feels a little more invigorated to find evidence against Mr. Wright; he starts to dig through some boxes that are tucked away under the tables. More useless information from decades long past… However, something unique catches his attention.

“Hey, Lewis. You might find this interesting,” Zeke hums. He peers up towards the man, watching as he makes his way down the small staircase. Once on the same level, Lewis peers over the teenager’s shoulder; his face swiftly changes to deep intrigue. Within Zeke’s hands is an old, yellowed newspaper. The edges are frayed and the paper is thin and soft, but the headline is what catches his attention.

Lewis reads it outloud, “Heart Hollow Resort Foreclosed Following W. Heartwood’s Disappearance,” he says, gently putting a hand out to take the newspaper from Zeke. It’s dated back to the late seventies; alongside the block of text, there’s a black and white photo of the Resort’s wooden, heart-shaped signage. 

The air is solemn as Lewis quietly reads over the article. Zeke continues to dig into the box with the hopes to find more newspapers along those lines, but unfortunately the rest of the box holds nothing more than delicate scraps of paper with ink long faded by time. Gently turning the pages, Lewis mutters, “this is remarkable.”

Looking up towards the tall ginger, Zeke decides to ask, “didn’t Wallace die on Resort grounds?”

Lewis gives a confused smile as he meets Zeke’s umber eyes, “where’d you hear that?”

“Rosa told me. Way back when I first started.”

This makes Lewis chuckle a bit as he shakes his head, “ah… Look. Rosa knows a lot about town gossip… But it’s just that: gossip. I personally take what she tells me with a grain of salt.”

“Hm,” Zeke furrows his thick brows, “what about the guests that complain about heavy headed knocks during the dead of night? Is that just gossip too?”

Lewis’ face is hard to read here. He dips his eyes back down to the newspaper as he gently folds the thing closed, “no. That’s true.”

“Oh,” Zeke states flatly. Truth be told, he was hoping that Lewis would deny it ever happened. The thought of being visited by a ghost keeps him up some nights; not like he’d ever admit that though.

Lewis seemingly notices the teenager’s anxiety and continues with compassion in his voice, “try not to worry too much about it, okay? If Wallace still traverses these halls, then I’m sure he’s just keeping an eye on his Hotel.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one sleeping here every night,” Zeke hums. He decides to close up that box and slide it back under the table. He hops up onto the elevated stage and takes a seat, “you gotta admit that this place is creepy when there’s nobody here.”

Lewis smiles gently, “I suppose I haven’t been here completely alone before. Nor have I stayed the night in one of the rooms.”

“Honestly? Really wouldn’t recommend it right now,” Zeke meets his smile, “it’s spooky as hell.”

With a light chuckle, Lewis says, “right,” before clearing his throat to continue, “did you happen to find anything else?”

“Nothing down here, man. Unless… You think there’s some boxes hiding backstage,” he suggests mischievously.

“Worth a shot. C’mon,” Lewis says as he climbs up onto the stage. Zeke stands up as the ginger slides the shimmery curtain open. Backstage at the Club of Hearts is rather quaint; there’s a vintage microphone, a tall ladder, extra stage lights, a few wooden crates, and a black half size piano.

On the internal wall, Zeke notices a thin, unobtrusive door. He decides to ask about it, “where’s that lead?”

“Ah,” Lewis says with his hands on his hips, “that leads towards the ground level’s service hallway. There’s a dressing room and a long path that connects both the Club’s bar and the lobby’s bar,” he says, gesturing with a finger to show the path that the hallway takes, “and on the other end of the Hotel, it connects to the kitchen.”

“Damn,” Zeke says, running a hand through his auburn curtain bangs, “I thought I knew the layout of this Hotel like the back of my hand. Guess not so much, huh?”

Lewis chuckles a bit, returning a hand to his hip, “well, it’s not like anyone goes back there these days. It’s a bit worse for wear… If you were to go exploring, I’d strongly suggest bringing a mask. There’s a bit of a mold problem.”

“Yikes,” Zeke says, gritting his teeth, “I’ll pass on that one.”

Lewis just smiles gently, and Zeke feels his green eyes follow him as he goes to peek into some of the wooden crates towards the farthest wall from the stage; inside looks to be some parts to a silver drum set. As he sets the lid back in its place, he hears a gentle chord progression from the piano. He peers over his shoulder to see Lewis’ tall figure bent over the instrument as he fiddles with the ivory keys. Zeke decides to pry, “do you play?”

Lewis keeps his eyes down towards the piano as he wipes dust off the top with care, “it’s been awhile since I practiced… But yes, I dabble from time to time.

“Oooh. You wanna play me something?”

“Ah,” he smiles shyly, keeping his eyes down towards the piano, “I don’t know. Probably not. I’m rusty.”

“What? Who cares.”

“I - I care..?”

Zeke rolls his eyes, “I’m just saying… I think it’d be cool to give this old place one last performance,” he shrugs, hiding a grimace as he turns away from Lewis to poke through more of those wooden crates.

Apparently this is what gets the guy, because Lewis lets out a little, “ah,” in consideration. After weighing his options, he says, “okay. But please don’t laugh if I mess up.”

“Of course not. Look, I’ll even give you some space,” Zeke responds, heading up to the front of the stage. He takes a seat in the limelight, his legs dangling off the platform. To Lewis’ silence, he peers over his shoulder to see the man watching him with a concerned, yet slightly amused look in his eyes. The ginger takes a deep breath before taking a seat on the rickety piano stool.

After a few moments of amping himself up, Lewis hums a light, “alright,” as he stretches his freckled hands out over the piano. From the way his shoulders are tensed, Zeke can only assume he’s a bit anxious to be showing off like this. He shakes his hands out nervously before diving in; he places his fingers atop the keys, and then begins to play a few practice scales. After a moment, he stops, “goodness, you need to be tuned,” he says softly. Zeke stifles an adoring chuckle.

He’s talking to the piano, isn’t he?

Lewis shakes it off, and he does his best to loosen up his hands and shoulders before diving in. He hums one last, “okay,” before gently placing his fingers atop the keys. He presses in, and the old piano makes a soft, light sound. Slowly, up the piano his hands dance, and Zeke peeks over his shoulder to watch the ginger work. Lewis has to bend himself down over the small instrument, but Zeke enjoys watching him sway forward with each chord being played.

Zeke doesn’t recognize the song, but the melody starts off rhythmic and slow. He soaks up the pleasant sound as it bounces around the old room; despite the Club’s atmosphere being dreary and lonesome, the music that Lewis plays makes it feel as though the Hotel were alive once again. Zeke closes his eyes and bounces his head side-to-side at the underlying chord progression.

In his imagination, the Club is packed to the brim with staff and patrons alike. He envisions every seat and booth filled with well-dressed folk as they’ve all put thought and care behind each appearance. People hold hands and share low comments with one another regarding the music, the food, the drinks, and the romantic atmosphere. Of course, Lewis is in the limelight as he pours his heart out for the whole town to hear.

The melody builds and progresses up a few notches. Zeke imagines folks dancing with one another close to the stage, and he envisions guests laughing under the moody lighting of the Club’s bar. The bartender performs tricks as he throws shaker bottles behind his back. Within the crowd, sentiments are shared, praise is received, and thoughtful gifts are given. A loving confession is made, a lengthy announcement, a desperate plea.

Lewis’ song hitches to a climax and drops down into a deeply driving, longing force. Amidst a bustling Club, two people lock eyes from a distance and meet under the stage lights halfway. A young love blossoms as the two whisk each other away from the party and into their suite just next door. Somewhere, in a booth towards the back, a couple reminiscences on the memories of a recent season, yet it feels long gone by now; they share an earnest laugh, yet hold hands under the table. Memories are made, promises are sworn, and secrets are kept within these aged Hotel walls.

When Lewis plays the final chord, Zeke’s umber eyes peel open, and he’s disappointed to see a desolate Club within a defunct Hotel. Nobody sits at the bar, people don’t dance in front of the stage, and lovers aren’t swooning like he had envisioned. Here they sit, completely alone within a building that was once a cultural centerpiece to this little mountain town.

Now, it just lies as a corpse of what it once was.

In a desperate attempt at connection, Zeke peeks over his shoulder towards Lewis. The performer sits within the shadow of the stage, and the spotlights just barely catch his pale hair. His eyes are cast down towards the piano, and even from here, Zeke can tell that his face is flush with embarrassment. A selfish smile makes its way to Zeke’s face; despite his vivid imagery, he was the only one to hear Lewis’ song, and he feels grateful for that. After all, when was the last time he played for someone like that?

All Zeke can say is, “you’re insanely talented.”

That shy smile doesn’t budge from Lewis’ face as he says, “it’s refreshing to play again. Um… Thank you for being my audience.”

With a content sigh, Zeke responds, “any time.”

❧

The sun is just about tucked away for the night, however the last few golden rays still poke up through the thick forest foliage. Higher into the heavens, the sky quickly changes from neon oranges to soft, sleepy blues. The few clouds in the sky reflect the light in a satisfying, technicolor way.

If Zeke wasn’t having a smoke out front of the Hotel, he definitely would have missed this gorgeous sunset. That’s one thing he wasn’t prepared for when he moved up here: the sunsets in the mountains are just breathtaking. He takes a deep breath into the rich summer air, consciously letting his muscles relax. His eyes fall closed for a moment as he focuses on the sounds of the foliage rustling, the cicadas’ rhythmic chirping, and the birds beginning to sing their last songs for the night.

He wonders if he’ll ever find peace like this again if he were to pick up and move… But the closer Mr. Wright’s trial becomes, the more and more reality settles deep within the teenager’s chest. God, but every time he thinks about picking up his few belongings and leaving this temporary home, he gets this overwhelming feeling of dread… Almost as if he’d be completely dissatisfied with that ending to the chapter in his life that’s Heart Hollow, Pennsylvania.

After all, he still has so much he’d like to uncover. He’d love to find out what happens with Mr. Wright’s trial this upcoming Monday, and he will, in due time. If he gets convicted, what's to happen to the Hotel? He can’t shake off the feeling that it’ll lay abandoned for decades to come, finally giving into the harsh weather and unforgiving foliage around it.

He’d also love to know what really happened to Wallace Heartwood. Sure, the town says he just vanished into thin air… But someone with his supposed track record couldn’t just vanish that quickly from the public eye. Right?

Oh, not to mention that he and Lewis haven’t spoken about their Cupid encounter since it happened a few weeks back. He’s not sure how that conversation will go, and he’s almost scared to know what it might lead to. Speaking of Lewis… That comment Mr. Wright had made about him having skeletons in his closet just keeps repeating itself in his head.

Zeke’s umber eyes peel open. There’s nothing he can do about it at this moment and that’s disconcerting. So, instead of sitting here and reeling about things, he takes a drag off his cigarette, picks up his phone, and looks over his notifications. It’s later in the evening, so there’s nothing too substantial. There are, however, a few texts in his group chat with Cherry and Kara.

Cherry:

Hi Zekeyyy!! I was wondering

what your plans are for Monday

morning? We can all carpool to the

courthouse together if you want :D

Kara:

we have to be there by 9

you will not catch my ass

waking up at 7 in the morning

unless im getting paid

Cherry:

LOL ummmmmmm okay……..

How about a sleepover instead??

Kara:

omg cherry we can play video

games and kick zekes ass

Zeke just kind of chuckles. They have been begging him to come stay over at their apartment since the Hotel’s doors were shut… He supposes one little night would be fine.

Zeke:

count me in. can we

order dinner or something?

i’m so tired of eating microwave

ramen and mac n cheese.

Almost immediately, a chat bubble pops up to indicate that someone is typing. While he waits, he takes a puff off his cigarette.

Cherry:

YAYY !! Yes that sounds

really fun!!!! Let’s do it!!

Kara:

sounds good little man

hey did u ever get any info

from lewis abt the trial btw

Zeke:

dude no. the guy doesn’t

know how to text at all.

Kara:

boooooooo

kick his ass i want details

Zeke laughs to himself before going to check his messages with Lewis. After he had left from his last Hotel visit, Zeke threw out that offer to chat about the trial one more time. Looking over his barren messages now, he’s only reminded of how the guy’s been ignoring every invitation thrown his way. He did mention he was concerned about confidentiality, so maybe having a digital paper trail isn’t a great idea. The gears shift in the teenager’s head as he peers down at his screen; and then, in a moment, he gets a really dubious idea. He switches back over to his group chat and responds:

Zeke:

I have an idea on

how to get him to talk.

please standby.

Once he hits send, he pulls Lewis’ contact back up. Before he gives himself time to talk himself out of this, he taps the call icon. In a few seconds, his phone’s little speaker signals that the call is going through. In one hand, he holds his phone up to his ear, and in his other hand, he holds his cigarette. He takes a draw, listening as the phone rings and rings and rings. It keeps ringing, and at this point, Lewis is either unavailable or purposefully ignoring his call. Maybe he knows Zeke is just calling to pry; however, there’s a little part within the brunette that’s calling him for his own reason too. Just as he’s about to give up, the other end of the line picks up.

“Hello?”

A wicked grin grows on Zeke’s face as he feels triumphant. Nonchalantly, he says, “hey, Lewis.”

“Hi, Zeke. Are - are you okay?” The ginger’s voice drips with genuine concern. 

“Yeah, man, I’m good. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Ah, well,” Lewis stammers as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he settles on a very managerial, “what can I do for you?”

“Well,” Zeke starts, absently putting the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he tears at the grass below, “I was kinda hoping I could bug you for some info about the trial,” he says.

There’s a pretty big sigh from Lewis’ side of the phone before he says, “I really don’t know, Zeke…”

“C’mon, man. My livelihood depends on what happens at this trial,” Zeke says, “I just wanna know if I should, like, start packing my things or whatever.”

The other side of the phone is silent for a moment too long before Lewis eventually says, “so… You’ve decided that you’re moving?”

Now it’s Zeke’s turn to let out a sigh, “I mean… I guess if Mr. Wright gets convicted. Yeah.”

“I see,” Lewis states solemnly. There’s a moment as the ginger compiles his thoughts before he says, “to be completely transparent with you, Zeke… It’s not looking too great for Andrei.”

“Oh,” the brunette hums. That really isn’t the answer he hoped for, but it is the one that he anticipated. He decides to ask, “how come?”

“Ah… He’s just… He didn’t do a very good job at covering up his tracks, I suppose. There’s just not a lot of gray area.”

“Damn. What’d he get arrested for again? Fraud?”

“That’s correct.”

“What… Uh. What does that mean?”

“Well,” Lewis takes a moment before he speaks up, “mainly a misuse of the Resort’s money. Funding personal purchases.”

“I’ve been wondering how he can afford to go through an entire bottle of whiskey in a day,” Zeke smirks.

Lewis chuckles a bit; Zeke feels relieved to hear the man smile. The ginger speaks up, “at this point, the state attorney thinks it would be wise of him to go for a plea bargain. But… Him and his attorney are opting to go to trial, so… I guess we’ll see.”

“Damn,” the brunette hums, eyes peering down towards the grass below him. He isn’t really sure what else to say now.

“Yeah,” Lewis hums back. It seems he’s not sure what to say either. After a moment he adds, “there’s something else, too.”

“What’s up?”

“Well. The state attorney shared with me what had kick-started this investigation. Apparently someone within the Hotel anonymously shared some of Andrei’s recent budgeting sheets.”

“Woah,” Zeke’s eyes widen, “and we don’t know who did it?”

“Nope. It was completely anonymous. The local police thought it incriminating enough to get an arrest warrant.”

The teenager isn’t really sure what to say to that. Who would do something like that? To go behind the Resort owner’s back and try to get him imprisoned… In a low voice, Zeke asks, “Lewis. Did you..?”

“Heavens no. I - Andrei never even let me set eyes on our budget. The closest I had were our end-of-week-reports. Nothing regarding payroll or purchases,” his voice falters as he continues, “do you - do you think I would do something like that?”

Lewis wouldn’t go behind Mr. Wright’s back even if he knew what the man was doing was illegal. He said it himself: he’s loyal to a fault. Loyal to this Hotel he loves so dearly, loyal to his historical family name, and loyal to his abhorrent boss. The teenager speaks up, “nah. You wouldn’t do that. But… Frankly, I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

There’s a light pause before Lewis adds in a smaller voice, “I can’t help but wonder if I would have, though.”

Zeke’s chest falls at the man’s vulnerability. After a moment, he just says, “guess we’ll never know.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

The teenager peers up from the grass he picks at and directs  his gaze towards the sky as it turns into somber blues with nightfall. A crisp breeze moves through the trees, and a chill waves down Zeke’s spine. It’s still summer, but the air is definitely whispering that autumn is just around the corner. He wishes that he would be here to watch the Pocono Mountains turn their seasonal shades of reds and yellows and oranges. Without thinking about it, he speaks into the quiet line, “if Mr. Wright gets convicted, I think it’d be cool to throw one last celebration at the Hotel. You know… Before I leave.”

He can practically see the man dipping his ginger head as he contemplates this. Eventually, Lewis speaks up, “if you’d like to, I’m sure Cherry and Kara would love to help you plan the whole thing.”

“Heh,” Zeke kind of laughs to himself, “yeah, they would. So you’ll be there?”

“Ah… I don’t know. I don’t really do parties.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Zeke tosses the remainder of his cigarette out towards the forest that surrounds the Resort, “don’t you wanna see the Hotel all lively for one last hurrah?”

“That… Yes. That does sound nice.”

“Exactly. So be there.”

“I - I don’t know, Zeke. Please feel free to have the gathering without me, okay?”

“What? Dude, c’mon. Why are you so apprehensive?”

“I - um,” Lewis pauses for a moment, clearly unsure of what to say or how to say it. Finally, in a small voice, he states, “I just don’t think I’ll be wanted there.”

“That’s stupid. It wouldn’t be the same without you. Like - you realize you were the backbone of this entire Hotel, right? You were doing your best as a boss with what little resources Mr. Wright gave you. And - and you gave everyone some semblance of structure and reason to even show up to work.”

The line is completely quiet. Zeke gives him the space to consider this for a moment, but ultimately checks to make sure the call is still connected. He sees that the timer continues to count upwards, so he places the thing back up to his ear. Zeke asks, “you still there?”

Lewis clears his throat, “yeah. Yes, I’m still here. Ah… You just continue to surprise me, Zeke. That’s all.”

“So… You’ll be there?”

“Ahah,” Lewis chuckles lightly, “how about we see what happens at the trial first… Does that sound fair?”

Zeke nods his head shallowly as he’s a bit disappointed in the lack of a confirmation. Nonetheless, he says, “yeah, that’s cool.”

The line goes back to silence as the teenager peers back down towards the untamed grass below him. It’s just about dark now. It’s probably time to end the phone call, but just being tentatively listened to through cheap speakers is comforting to the lonesome teenager.

Who knows? Maybe Lewis feels the same way.

After another moment, the ginger finally decides to speak up once again, “did I… Did I sufficiently fill you in on the trial?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Lewis.”

“Any time. I’ll - uh - I’ll probably let you get back to your night then. Unless… There’s anything else?”

He almost says that as if he wants Zeke to say something else… But unfortunately, the brunette can’t come up with anything of any interest. He just says, “nah. Thanks for the chat, man. Uh - thanks for picking up the phone.”

Lewis chuckles before he responds, “sure. Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Yeah. See you Monday.”

Just like that, the call is over, and Zeke feels the weight of their current situation in his chest and shoulders. He sits there, out front of the Hotel, quiet and somber for several moments. It isn’t until another cold breeze wafts through that Zeke decides it’s time to go inside. He gets up off the grass and trudges back through the huge stained glass entryway to the Hotel. He treks through the lobby, eyes catching that huge portrait of Wallace Heartwood. The usual staging lights aren’t on, leaving the painting feeling almost a bit uncanny. Zeke doesn’t stop as he passes by it.

He goes through the rotunda, treks down the wooden staircase, and makes it down safely to the ground level. Something within him rises as he makes his way down the long corridor to his suite. It’s almost a light panic; a fear that waves through his nervous system. He’s completely alone here, just as he has been for the past few weeks. Maybe ending that phone call with Lewis just really made him feel completely secluded up on this hill.

He quickly makes it to his room, making sure to lock the door behind him. As he flicks the moody lights on, he peers around the place. Despite all of his free time as of late, his few belongings still scatter around his honeymoon suite. Maybe he should pack his things… He’ll do that after a shower, he thinks.

He slides the great big raspberry colored curtains closed for the night before he makes his way over to the bathroom. Flicking on the lights, his eyes meander up to the sprinkler system overhead.

He never did tell Lewis that those things are inoperable, huh?

Too late now, he supposes.

He flicks on the head to the single bodied shower and waits for the water to heat up. He peers at himself in the mirror before it fogs up. He tussles his hair and tugs at the oversized clothes that hang off his frame in a familiar way. The narrow bathroom begins to steam up, indicating that the old water heater had finally done its job. Zeke begins to peel off his shirt, and just as he’s about to lift the fabric over his chest… Muffled through the sound of cascading water, he hears something. The teenager instantly freezes in place as the sound registers in his brain. That… That couldn’t have been. He’s alone, and he knows that. So why the hell did it sound as if someone had pounded their fist against the old wooden door to his room?

His heart races because he knows the answer.

Zeke acts cautiously as he shuts the water off and waits. It’s completely silent now as he stands within the room. He listens intently, almost anticipating another knock. When it doesn’t come, he tiptoes out of the bathroom and into the suite he currently calls home. His fearful brown eyes immediately glue onto the room’s tall door. It’s closed and locked, just as he had left it. He gently pads over to the door as his heart pounds within his chest. He places his now sweaty palms against the wood, not even considering if he should do this or not. Using the door as leverage, he stands on his tiptoes and aligns an eye with the old, dusty peephole.

Nobody stands out in the hallway.

Just the usual dark purples, pinks, and woodgrains he’s grown accustomed to living in. Even though he knows nobody’s out there, he can’t help but keep staring as if someone would pop up any minute now. Kara, or Cherry, or Becka… Hell, he’d even welcome the police at this point, even if they don’t come up this hill unless it’s a dire emergency. Yet, nothing changes.

The hall is as empty as it’s been since Andrei’s arrest.

After a moment too long, he turns back to face the rest of the room. His wide eyes dance around the room, almost anticipating to see someone and something in here. But it’s just Zeke, all alone, completely secluded up on this hill. He tries to catch his breath, because he didn’t even realize until now that his breathing is beyond labored.

He isn’t sure what else to do, so he pulls the phone out of his gym shorts and immediately dials Cherry. It feels as though the phone rings forever. As he waits for the woman to answer, he begins to shove his belongings haphazardly into his backpack. His decision is final; he’s going to take them up on that offer to stay with them until Mr. Wright’s trial on Monday.