Evan strums on his guitar, humming along to his own rhythm and trying to put a song together. Jonathan notices him writing things down. He sits on the chair across from him, “Evan, honey, do you know how to sing? I thought you couldn’t.”

“You right,” Evan replies and continues strumming. The photographer leans in, waiting for more of an explanation. “Sooo, how are you going to get the lyrics with the song?”

“I don’t know yet,” he answers with a smile. His brown eyes look up at Jonathan, “but I have an idea.” Evan’s puppy dog eyes say, “I’mma make you sing.” Jonathan shakes his head, “Hell no. I cannot sing. I thought the song was about me.”

“Come on, you can get lessons.”

“So could you Evan!”

Suddenly a harsh knock is heard in the studio of the men. Evan grabs an umbrella as he stares into Jonathan’s eyes. Jonathan steps forward and peeks through the hole of the door. He spots a whole crowd of people. He staggers backward, breathless. “What’s wrong? Who is it?” Evan questions with the umbrella ready to attack. “It’s…”

“What?” The model questions, still in melee mode. “It’s a crowd of people.”

“Bad or-?” The door is pounded on again. The couple slowly turn to each other. “Should we open it?” Evan wonders to mainly himself, worried about what is on the other side for the both of them. Could it be a protest? Los Angeles is the most accepted place for LGBT, right?

Jonathan’s thoughts swarm as well. Who are they here for? Who’s leading this “group”? The sudden rush of intrepidity hits the photographer. He opens the door to the people, but keeping the lock in the slide. The first face he greets is Miss Shuman, “What the fuck do you guys want?”

Miss Shuman doesn’t answer, but a man behind her does, “How could you!?”

“Could I what?” Jonathan questions, getting pissed. Evan could tell by the redness on his ears.

“You hurt this woman, because she was giving you your mail?! Fucking faggot!”

“WHAT!” Jonathan snaps, swinging the door open, breaking the chain off of the door. He attacks the man.

“There he goes again!”

“He’s a disgrace to the LGBT community!” A drag queen shouts from the back. Her blue eyes fluttering as she did. Tears threaten the eyes of the photographer. His boyfriend snaps as well, pushing Miss Shuman into the crowd of people. “SHE’S LYING!” Evan shouts, his voice cracking as he does. Two people grab Evan. Two bigger men. “STOP!” Evan yells and tries pushing the men away. He watches Jonathan’s nose bleed as he punches back at the man who accused him of abusing Miss Shuman. The men drag Evan into the elevator. The crowd swallows Jonathan as the elevator doors shut.

“Looks like I’ve CAPTURED you Evan!” She chuckles, “Or should I say Rynx or VanossGaming?”

“YOU’RE A FUCKING PSYCHOPATH!” Evan spats. Miss Shuman slaps him, leaving a red mark on his left cheek. She chuckles, “Or shall I’ll call you… the lover of H2O Delirious? I can ruin his life at the click of a button Evan… It depends if you do as I say…”

Back onto the top floor the crowd finally drops Jonathan. He sobs on the floor for a little while. He realizes that Evan is no where around. Dry blood makes a trail from his nose to down his neck. His knuckles are bruised as well.

He staggers up and falls into his studio, leaving the door wide opened. He uses all of his strength to yell for his love, “EVAN!” He screams, his face against the hardwood floor. Suddenly a little clicking noise is audible. Blue makes his way over to his owner. He meows and licks the blood off of Jonathan’s face. “Evan’s gone…” The photographer sobs as his kitten rolls into a ball around his arm. Jonathan slowly goes unconscious.

How could this happen to them?

How could one woman change their lives?

And why was she doing it?

Fucking psychopath… is Jonathan’s last thought before his blue eyes shut for a little while.

The doors open to the building. A group of friends stumble upon the empty desk. “Are you sure this is the place?” The man with the old green jacket questions. He fixes his glasses as he questions.

“I sure hope so. The lady I called said this place was haunted alright…” Another man speaks with a black pig shirt.

The group travels upstairs. “I don’t think we should be in here unless we live in one of these studios,” the boyfriend of the pigman warns.

“Please,” the pigman argues. The elevator dings and Jonathan is revealed to the group.

“Holy shit!” Shane yells and rushes over to the man. “Andrew! Turn off the camera. Ryland call 911!”

The fellow group of YouTubers, just like Evan and Jonathan, wait with the poor photographer until his ambulance arrives.

***

Short chapter

They should get better at the beginning of summer!

I’m also working on another story!