Shit just got real. Creepy Chapter 3

[tempered-rose.livejournal.com]

Title: What Hides In Plain Sight Will Get You in the Shadows Chapter 3
Characters: Martin Kelly, Conor Coady
Rating: PG-13 now; higher later
Summary: Martin Kelly gets teased about his tolerance for all things supernatural. But does he have good reason to be afraid?
Words: this part: 1,199 ; Total: 3,612
A/N: Yes, another update! Btw, I’m accepting bribery for updates lol Kidding! I hope you guys continue to like it :-) By the way, the matches mentioned in this are also fake and take place a year into the future. The schedule is made up by the lovely mind of myself XD
Previous Parts: One Two




The green numbers on the clock showed that it was 2:58 in the morning. Martin was stretched across his bed, foot hanging off one corner, and he snored loudly. Macsen was asleep on the floor, halfway between the bed and the door. Occasionally, the dog’s foot would twitch and he would whimper, lost in his own dreams.

Martin had finished his dinner earlier and had then decided to take Macsen on a walk. They’d gone around the street and had come back towards his own house. His neighbor had been out in their garden and so they’d had a moment of discussion of the last match’s result. He, as an Everton fan, had been understandably upset by Liverpool’s victory over them, causing the Blues to be put into the relegation zone. Martin had just grinned and they had had a few moments of banter. The older man had patted Macsen on the head and then Martin and his dog had left to go back inside.

After that, Martin had spent several hours playing video games. Then he had watched an action movie, he hadn’t really been paying attention to it, until his mother had called. His mother had wanted to talk but Martin had lied about having to go out later. He didn’t want her to know about what had happened earlier and if he had kept on speaking for any length of time, she would have picked up on his avoidance and hesitance. He felt bad for lying, but he still didn’t want her to know and possibly hurt her as well.

He had stayed up until a little after midnight and then he had forced himself away from the sofa and had started upstairs. He’d run his hand over his face before he’d gone to the bathroom to get ready for bed. As he had gone through the house all day, he’d left on lights the entire time.

In the bathroom, he was a little nervous to look into the mirror. After a moment he had mentally slapped himself and shook his head. ‘Stupid wanker’ he had told himself and splashed cold water on his face. ‘Get over it. It was years ago.’

He had then brushed his teeth, washed his face, and gone back across his bedroom. He’d shut the bedroom door. He’d left the bathroom light on and had pulled the door till it was cracked. He told himself that he wasn’t being paranoid, just careful. Then he’d pulled back the sheets, told Macsen goodnight, checked his alarm, and then had settled in for sleep.

The only time he had really worried was when he had stared at the ceiling before he actually fell asleep. The light from the bathroom created few shadows. No matter how much he knew that it was impossible, Martin still worried that some of the shadows had begun to move. He shook his head and reached over the bed and picked up his Ipod. He put in his headphones and put the music on quietly.

Martin closed his eyes and listened to the music until he was almost asleep. When he was drowsy enough to fall asleep, he slowly turned the device off and shifted barely to set it back onto the table. In a few more moments, he had closed his eyes and had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The numbers shifted on the clock at 3:06. They faded silently to 3:07. Macsen remained asleep on the floor, his master still snored in his bed.

If either of them had been awake, though, they would have noticed the bathroom door begin to close by itself. Macsen would have begun to bark loudly and Martin would have reached for the nearest holy object.

As it was, only a small breeze glossed over the sleeping dog’s fur and the sheets on Martin’s bed moved a little as an invisible presence settled next to him on the bed.


At nine the next morning, Martin startled awake when the latest hit from some top ten artist blared into his conscious. Instinctively, Martin’s hand darted out from under the sheet and slapped the alarm’s ‘off’ button. He let his arm hang off the side of the bed as he struggled to wake up properly.

He felt the bed shift behind him before something wet touched his cheek.

Martin jumped as his eyes flew open. Quickly, he looked over his shoulder and saw the wide grin of his best friend, Conor. He let out his breath and sank back into his mattress, wearily.

“Don’t,” he swallowed thickly, “don’t do that.”

His voice was thick with sleep but Conor’s was annoyingly perky.

“Why not?” He grinned.

Martin shook his head and ran a hand over his face. Conor’s grin slipped slightly as the boy shifted closer to wrap an arm around Martin’s waist.

“Come on Kells, I just thought you might like a nice wake-up call.”

Conor pouted and Martin shook his head. He could feel his lips twitching upwards in a smile. His arm slid around Conor’s back as he tugged him a little closer. Conor was still kind of small for a defender, but not much. He was growing quickly as he trained more and more with the first team—both in physical size and abilities.

“I do like it, I’m just a little tired still.” Martin smiled a little and closed his eyes again. He missed Conor’s frown.

“You had better not go to sleep again, Kells. I didn’t sneak over here this early in the morning for you to fall asleep on me.”

Martin smirked with his eyes closed. “Then what did you sneak over here for?”

He could hear the small laugh come from Conor before the younger boy leaned over and planted a kiss on his lips.

“You’d better wake up and find out Kells.”

Martin’s eyes opened and saw the darkness in Conor’s eyes. Grinning, he pulled him closer and kissed him again.


Martin saw the clock in his car and cursed. He was still a few minutes away from Melwood and he cursed again. Conor had made him late enough that he would have to create a very plausible excuse as to why he was walking into training almost forty-five minutes late. The more Martin thought about how late he was going to be, the more his car became a soundboard for the words shit and fuck.

He almost thought of just calling in sick that day, but he shook his head. That would not have been responsible, or very nice. He was a professional now. He was a permanent fixture, injuries preventing, on the first team now. He didn’t get as many minutes as he would’ve liked, but there were too many great defenders in the first team now. It was well speculated by the papers, and the Liverpool coaching staff, that when Carra retired at the end of the season, Martin would take his place. Martin didn’t know about that, but he wouldn’t mind being permanently placed on the squad.

Knowing he would get a lot of stick for being late, Martin sighed and quickly grabbed up his bag and started inside the training ground.