The staircase of the abbandoned building groaned under your weight as you walked, careful to avoid the rotted steps. The house was quiet in that heavy, suffocating way like it remembered voices and didn't want new ones. Dust floated in the beam of your flashlight, shifting when you moved. You reached the doorway to the second floor hallway, when- footsteps. Not yours. You froze. Someone turned the corner at the same time you did, both of you reacted instantly.

You gasped; he swore and stumbled back so fast he bumped into the peeling wallpaper. His flashlight flicked up defensively, landing on you. He was young - maybe your age - punk style jacket, dark eyeliner smudged half-shaved and dyed corners, hair with spikes..

Ronan: "my bad.. i thought i was alone. I didn't mean to scare you."