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Etho stepped over a pile of broken tile, flicking his flashlight on as he peered down a darkened hallway.
He snapped his fingers in front of the camera pinned to his chest, checking his phone screen to confirm his mic was working.
"Okay, everybody - here we go," he said softly, heading down the hall. "This office building has been abandoned since shutting down in 2016. It might have been just an insurance underwriting business, but rumor has it, there's some pretty cool architecture downstairs."
The hallway ended in a pair of beige colored metal doors. 'To Lower Level' was painted in red on one. The other gave directions to the elevator.
"The power seems to be on, but we won't be climbing in any death boxes today," Etho joked. He pushed the bar on the left side door - it sunk in with a satisfying ker-chunk, opening to a carpeted stairwell. The egress lighting was still on - an exit sign above him illuminated the landing in red. Still, Etho kept his high-powered flashlight on, to help the video quality.
"Down into the depths we go," he said in mock cheer, the familiar dip of nervousness spiking in his belly as he started to descend. He felt the back of his neck break out in a sweat. If he fell down these stairs, he might be a goner. His body told him to go back with every step he took.
But the thrill of being somewhere he shouldn't be - of exploring a place that had barely been touched in a decade - kept him going.
He reached the bottom level. The doors here had small squares of glass at eye level. He tried peering through them, but couldn't make anything out.
He tugged one of the doors open and stepped through.
His flashlight swept over a wide atrium, gray tiles rising up in shallow steps to rows of empty planters. Round, gray tables were bolted to the floor throughout, padded chairs lying in disarray around them. Carpeted walkways ran on either side of the tiled area, miscellaneous office furniture and trash scattered along them.
"Wow," Etho whispered, stepping forward and tilting the flashlight up. The covered pyramid of glass above reflected the beam back in distorted halos.
"I can't believe this -"
Something clattered, thumped. Etho froze, holding his breath tight in his chest. Were those footsteps he'd heard, hurrying in the distance?
Had they been running away, or coming closer?
"Might be time to go," Etho murmured, disappointed. It really looked like an amazing space. But nowhere was worth taking his chances with a stranger lurking in the dark.
He slowly crept back to the doors, reaching out to push one open as quietly as he could.
It didn't budge.
He tried the one next to it. It didn't move either - not even a little bit. Like it was stuck fast, glued shut.
The sharp fear from earlier turned into a bubble of panic. Etho turned back to the huge room behind him, plastering himself to the door. He ran his light over the space - to the left, a wide opening had been gated off. To the right, he saw a series of glass doors. Meeting spaces, empty tables behind them, wires hanging from missing ceiling tiles.
No way out.
It was okay. He was okay - it wasn't the first time he'd had to call for help. Tango would sort it out. He just needed to stay calm until -
A thump, a skitter. This time, he could tell the direction, and he jerked his flashlight to the left. In a back corner, beyond the closed-off hallway, a column had obscured a door. He could see the outline of it as it sat propped open, a triangle of warm light peeking out from the darkness.
Peeking out, too, was a man.
Etho's heart thumped alarmingly fast, the light quivering as his hand shook, but he gathered himself quickly. The man looked more terrified than even Etho felt. His eyes were saucer-wide, watering in the too-bright beam of the flashlight. Etho dipped it away a bit to give him some relief.
The man leaned out, clinging to the column. He was - well, he was short. He was short and bright-eyed, wild hair sticking up from behind a headband. The sleeves of his sweater folded over his hands where he kept a grip on the wall, frowning.
"You some kinda creep?!" the man finally shouted, sounding equal parts offended and afraid. "What are you doing, scaring me to death with your - your flashlight with the power of the sun, and your freaky mask?"
"Wha - it's not freaky!"
The man leaned out further, one scuffed converse-clad toe nudging a piece of broken brickwork. "Is so. You shouldn't go skulking around like that. You coulda given me a heart attack."
Etho scoffed. He walked forward a few steps, careful to keep the light off of the stranger's face. "Well, I didn't think anyone would be in an abandoned building, yanno."
The man stepped out fully, hands on his hips. His ripped jeans were splattered in paint. "It ain't abandoned if I'm in it, now is it?"
Etho hummed. He stopped a few feet short of the other man. His thundering heart was calm now - even if the guy was trouble, Etho could just put a hand on his forehead and watch him swing his arms as he tried to reach him. He wasn't a threat.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" Etho asked, tilting his head to get a look though the door behind Bdubs. It appeared to be another hallway.
"What are you doing here, huh?" Bdubs looked him up and down, grimacing. "Izzat a cramry? A cramera?"
Etho snorted a laugh. "Um, yeah - it's for my videos. I do, y'know. Urbex. Just, like. A little hobby I have."
Bdubs glowered, the expression so cartoonish, it only served to make Etho smile behind his mask. "Oh, gross. You're a YouTuber."
Etho shrugged. "Is that a bad thing?"
"No," the man replied, matter-of-factly. Like contradicting himself was the most natural thing in the world. His face suddenly shifted, worry creasing his brow. Etho couldn't typically read people so easily, but this guy's face blasted his emotions like a bullhorn. "Oh, crap. You're gonna show people this place, aren't you?"
Etho realized his camera was still running. He lifted a hand to press the stop button, but hesitated. "Wait, are you doing something shady? Is that why -"
"No! No, I ain't doing nothing shady! I just - well, I'd prefer if people didn't - didn't see this place and get the bright idea to waltz right in, like you did."
Etho looked unconvinced. "Uh huh. And you're supposed to be here, are you?" Alarm bells were ringing in his head once again. He took a tentative step back. "I don't wanna know - but if you're doing something you shouldn't be, just - well, I won't upload the video -"
"I am not - look, I'll show you. It's nothing bad. This spot - I need it," the man said, voice pleading. "Please don't tell anybody. Cops, scrubscribers, whatever. Lemme show you. You'll get it."
How this guy could sound so sure of that, Etho had no idea. But he turned and started down the hallway, easygoing as you please.
And for reasons Etho would later be unable to explain, he followed him.
The hallway behind the other man was a mess of file boxes and stacks of books. An armchair and a lamp were crammed into a corner, a low table sitting beside them, an empty teacup on top. Etho paused at that, but the man waved him onward with a vague shrug. The hall ended in a turn to the right, a short flight of stairs leading to a pair of doors. They were propped open with paint cans.
The closed metal shutters and concrete floor told Etho this must have been a loading bay. It was relatively small for one - not likely the office space had needed something bigger - but still plenty roomy, with high ceilings and narrow windows at the tops of the walls. The blue twilight of the late evening sky glowed behind them.
It was also filled to the brim with...well, lots of things. All manner of things - crates, bookshelves, pieces of driftwood. Rolls of fabric, broken crockery, a single oar. A cornhole board, a massive plush bunny rabbit, a loom. A hobby horse, a rocking horse, a horse-head mask over a mannequin.
And clocks. Lots and lots of clocks. Their soft ticking was audible over the low music drifting from a boombox nearby.
In the middle of the chaos, tarps had been laid, and loads of paper and canvases were strewn about, surrounded by brushes and pens and crusty paint palettes. A stool and an easel were set up in the center of it all, a half-finished painting resting there. Charcoal and colored pencils were stacked haphazardly in a popcorn bucket nearby.
And all over - the canvases, the parchment paper, what appeared to be a metal road sign - all over, there were landscapes. Skies. Cresting waves, dense canopies, dappled forest floors. Grass moved by a soft breeze, so alive Etho felt like he could run his hands over the image and feel the blades. Wildflowers rendered so vibrant they might attract real bees.
Etho leaned to inspect a painting of a cottage being swallowed by a swamp, trying to make out the name scrawled in the corner.
The man sighed. "Just call me Bdubs. That's what everyone does."
Etho gave him a sheepish look. "Right. I'm Etho."
The man - Bdubs - didn't say anything. He just watched Etho closely, fidgeting with his wristwatch, intermittently chewing on his bottom lip. The silence stretched on - Etho looked from one artwork to the next, like an appraiser. He glanced up at Bdubs again, brows raised.
"So you're using this as a studio, huh? Why?"
Bdubs huffed out a breath, shifting his weight to the side. "Don't exactly have funds for anything else. Share a place with my brother. Not a lot of room, y'know?"
Etho hummed. He knelt down to inspect a painting of a valley, spiky mountains in the distance. It was the only one he could see that had a person in it - an indistinct shape of someone in a wide hat, centered in the image, their head tilted up toward the sky.
"Are you gonna tell?"
Etho blinked rapidly, rocking back on his feet, unsure of how long he'd been staring at the picture.
He met Bdubs' worried gaze, frowning. "No. Why would I?"
"I don't know, maybe you're a huge jerk. And it does mean you can't share your video."
Etho snorted. "It's not a big deal. I'll find another spot. No one cares if it isn't a dead mall or theme park, anyway."
Bdubs had relaxed a bit, face stretching with a genuine half-smile. "Don't tell me if you've been to an abandoned theme park. I'd have to introduce you to my brother. He's obsessed."
Etho shook his head. He went back to perusing the paintings. With a keener eye, he spotted details he hadn't before. Other people, animals, signs of human life. Someone with a cloud of red hair on the porch. A fluffy dog sleeping at the edge of a paddock. Fishing poles left at the end of a dock.
"These are...pretty good," Etho admitted, watching Bdubs face contort as he smiled brightly and glared at the same time. "Seems like you could sell some, afford something at least better than this."
"They're not for sale!" Bdubs shouted. Etho didn't even flinch - somehow, after knowing this guy for only fifteen minutes, he'd seen that reaction coming.
Bdubs cleared his throat. "I mean - I would part with one for - people don't wanna buy them anyway." He crossed his arms with a huff. "No appreciation for the classics, these days."
"Uh huh," Etho intoned.
He looked around the rest of the studio. The doors in the far wall, the windows. The rapidly darkening sky. "Well, I should go. And no, I'm not gonna tell anyone, so - yeah."
Bdubs nodded, walking him to a door to the outside. "Thanks, man. Etho."
His smile, now lit by the glow of a distant streetlamp only, was too warm in the cool air of the evening. Etho left without looking back.
He deleted the footage.
"So that place was a bust?" Tango asked, kicking his feet up on the couch. "Bummer."
Etho knocked his feet down and sat beside him, lining up takeout containers on the coffee table. "No good for a video," he said. Technically not a lie.
"Probably for the best. I heard the neighborhood around there isn't the safest."
Etho jerked his head up at that, snapping his chopsticks apart a beat later. "Oh?"
"Yeah, it's a shame. Glad you didn't run into any trouble in there."
Etho poked a piece of orange chicken. Distantly, he could hear the kitchen clock ticking. He kept staring at his food. "Yeah. Lucky."
Etho went to the door at the loading bay this time. Same time of day, same day of the week, just a week later. He figured it was his best shot at catching the guy - Bdubs - again.
Just to check, make sure he hadn't fallen down the stairs, become trapped in an elevator. What kind of person would he be if he left a guy in a position like that?
Bdubs opened the door after a few minutes, a streak of white paint running from his eyebrow up into his hair. "Etho?"
The taller man nodded, suddenly unsure what to say. He rubbed a hand under his masked chin. "So. Hey."
"Hey is for horses," Bdubs muttered, pushing the door open further. "S'cold out there. Come on. You wanting to poke around some more? There's an old closet full of toilet lids upstairs. And spiders. Mostly spiders."
Etho followed him in, taking in the chaos of the room a second time. The way the clutter cushioned and formed the space, like a nest. "I actually wanted to - I was curious about what you're working on."
Bdubs threw a grin over his shoulder. "You into art? You paint? Draw?"
Etho shrugged. Technically not a lie.
"I'll show ya, I finished the one I was working on last week. This one's giving me a headache."
"Sure that's not fumes from the paint in your hair?"
Bdubs squawked, running a hand over his head, adding another streak of white.
"Do you want a bag for these?" the librarian asked, scanning Art History for Dummies and adding it to the stack of similar titles.
Etho shook his head, awkwardly tucking the pile of books under his chin as he took them in his arms. The Guide to Landscape Painting fell from the bottom, smashing his toe.
"You here again?"
Etho kicked the door closed behind him, then winced. He made a beeline for the boombox to eject whatever crap Bdubs was listening to, replacing it with his far superior music. Bdubs only groaned. So he was capable of not arguing sometimes, Etho thought.
"What is the master working on today?" he asked, coming up behind Bdubs' shoulder.
It was a snowy clearing. Icicles on branches, the glow of a campfire in the middle of it all. "It ain't done," Bdubs grumbled, trying to shove Etho aside. "Didn't I say no visitors when I'm working?"
"You don't own the place," Etho said with a grin. "Let's see - I like the purple, there. You should make it darker. And that tree is a little weird -"
"Everyone's a critic," Bdubs sighed, reaching for the purple paint.
Bdubs threw another damp box into the trash can. His face was blank, but there was a curve to his shoulders Etho hadn't seen before. It looked like resignation.
"It's my fault, I'm an idiot. Stupid -" he picked up a ruined magazine. "I knew the ceiling could leak but I didn't - and the snow melt, I didn't think about the snow melt. Yeah."
Etho pulled a glass vase from a pile of wet cardboard. "At least it didn't get any of your paintings. It's nothing we can't replace, right?"
Bdubs uncurled the tiniest fraction. "Yeah," he breathed, mouth twitching. "Nothing we can't replace."
Bdubs opened the door carefully, one eye peering through the gap.
"Locking me out?" Etho asked, holding up a greasy paper bag as an offering. "When I come bearing gifts?"
Bdubs opened the door wider. "Some guys were in the lot, earlier. Kinda freaked me out," he snatched the bag. "Come on, not the sweet potato fries again. You're the worst."
Etho followed him in, casting a wary glance at the lot, and the shadowed areas under the trees that lined it.
First message. From 555-225-1107.
Hi Mr. Slab. This is Rebecca, we received your inquiry on the property at Shady Ave. That space is 2100 a month. Give me a call back at -
Message deleted. Next message -
"What -what - what? What?"
Etho slid another crate down the loading bay, kicking it into the bed of his truck. "I'm saying, prioritize the most important stuff first. We'll get the boxes and knickknacks and...clocks, into Skizz's shed. The paintings can sit in my office, for now."
"Etho - am I being robbed? Are you robbing me?"
"And kidnapping you, actually. Did you know that your brother is friends with my roommate? Small world."
Bdubs shouted as Etho hauled the hobby horse over his shoulder, grabbing at it uselessly. "Etho, what are you doing? Why?"
"We're gonna get you a proper studio. And a chair with a back on it."
Bdubs huffed, then huffed again, face reddening. "You can't just - come in here and - and uproot my life!"
"You're one to talk."
"What?"
Etho snapped the tailgate closed. "We got a little room in the truck cabin. Grab some of your masterpieces, and let's go. We'll get the rest later."
Bdubs mouth opened and closed, choked sounds stuck in his throat, fists clenching and unclenching. "But - where am I gonna paint?"
Etho traipsed past him, eyeing the many canvases. "Come on, pick two for now. We'll come back tonight."
"Etho -"
"I've always been partial to the windmill. But this one has to be your best," Etho said, indicating the valley, the man in the hat. "You could sell prints, at least. That'd help."
"Etho."
"Look, Tango's all bark and no bite. As long as we don't get paint on the living room carpet, it's fine."
Bdubs blinked at him for several long, silent seconds. A groan petered out in his chest.
He shuffled over to a piece of luggage, pulling a painting from it. It was smaller than his typical canvases. He took the valley one as well, and walked down the ramp to Etho's truck, waiting for him to open the door.
During the ride to Etho's place, he let Bdubs pick the music.
"You promise?" Bdubs asked him softly, just as they pulled into the parking lot.
Etho didn't need to ask what he meant. "I do. I promise."
Not a lie.