(A/N: Asher's POV)

"Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?" I asked in a singsong voice, eyeing the little girl who stood with a goofy grin on her freckled face.

She exclaimed, "SpongeBob SquarePants!"

"Absorbent and yellow and porous is he!" I sang along, fiddling with her little hands.

"SpongeBob SquarePants!" She sang, giggling as she shook my hands.

"If nautical nonsense be something you wish!" I twirled her around, watching her red pigtails jumble around and her hazel-green orbs twinkle like the diamond stars in a dark night sky.

"SpongeBob SquarePants!" She kept shouting, while I chuckled heartily, earning a few envious glances from the other kids.

That's the only verse to the theme song that she knew well, but those were just two words that named the leading yellow sponge.

I couldn't care less. "Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish!"

"SpongeBob SquarePants!" We both sang, joined in by Anna. "Ready?"

"SpongeBob SquarePants! SpongeBob SquarePants! SpongeBob SquarePants!" Everyone yelled, erupting with clasped hands and howls.

I patted her head and she yanked my hand away. She whined, "No! My hair!"

I laughed and told her, "Sorry, kid."

I felt two arms wrapping around my neck and silky hair grazing my skin. I smirked and turned around, kissing her in the cheek. She giggled slightly and said, "Sing with me like that."

"I'm down, for another time. Honestly, I think I destroyed my voice box." I told her frankly, earning a small peck on the cheek now.

The traces of her lips lingered, but I loved it. She told me, "If you're not going to, I'm gonna find myself a pirate and let him serenade me."

"No pirates of the sea can beat my singing voice, even a siren won't." I cockily complimented myself.

She pouted and let out a huff of breath. She said, "I don't mind crappy singing, as long as he's there to sing for me."

I lifted her chin up, taking in her impressive physical features. Blue eyes, blonde hair, sharp chin, soft nose, and her high cheekbones all flattered me. I said, "The kids love me, don't get all jelly."

She hit my arm playfully and turned on her heel, but I couldn't really decipher the strained smile she had on her face. She pranced towards a few kids and started to mingle with them, talking about some tea party that's held in an hour.

I averted my gaze away to the little girl that was now sitting on the floor, playing with a teddy bear doll. I asked her, "What's his name?"

She scowled and hugged the bear defensively. She scoffed, "It's a she."

I raised my arms in defeat and said, "Sorry, what's her name?"

She smile and eyed the doll. She said, "Her name is Tiffany. She doesn't like you, y'know."

I didn't know teddy bears despised me that much. I laughed and said, "Tiffany will warm up to me someday."

These kids, innocent and oblivious. It must've been nice to be them, owning brothers and sisters who came everyday like they're really blood-related. I had never seen this sort of Children's Center before, full of happy kids which were sadly diagnosed with cancer.

This girl here was diagnosed with Leukemia, but I was surprised she had the strength for a child.

She looked anorexic for some reason, as if she had been lacking food for weeks. But, her eyes still had the bright glint and she's always happy. Always happy, something normal people pursue on a daily basis—even me. She was hyper for a short while, but she became weak again and rested. I didn't pity her, but I was selfish enough to let her share a fair amount of her happiness.

I was glad Anna dragged me to this place, although we're just teens aspiring for our adolescence.

Although we were apart now from terrible incidents, I couldn't forget the day I met the little girl, Tahlia.

This was payback. I received something precious from her, but it's time for her to take something precious away from me. But, I was too selfish to do that. I wouldn't let her take Taylor away from me. But, we weren't off into a great start. I couldn't decipher what she had meant.

"Let's just check each floor for her." Krett recklessly suggested, getting up on his feet.

I grabbed his wrist and his head whipped around. He said, "Guessing is not a good method, let me go."

I sighed and said, "She said something weird in the phone call earlier. It's Arr, mate! Follow the stars!"

He knitted his eyebrows into a straight line, yet he still glared at me. He said, "As far as I know, we've never had a conversation relating to pirates at all."

"Follow the stars?" I suggested and he thought for awhile.

He shrugged and said, "Uh, hmm. We did talk about constellations at a point in time."

What was she trying to imply?

Stars and pirates, what did they have in common? It was something tricky indeed, she's a smart one.

"Pirates sail the oceans." I stated, adding up the details.

"Way to go, Captain Obvious!" Krett teased, earning a glare from me.

"The stars are...bright?" I unsurely stated. I was getting more confused, because what did she mean?

Krett shook his head and commented, "You're an idiot."

I jerked my chin up, glaring at him. I challenged him, "What do you suggest, Krett?"

"Well...if we're connecting pirates and stars, the stars she's implying aren't going to be merely burning things in space or twinkle twinkle little star crap–" He explained, massaging his temple as his nose scrunched up. "–and we're not talking about pillaging pirates. I think it's more of a navigation science."

"You mean, celestial navigation?" I cocked an eyebrow up, pursing my lips in thought.

He nodded and clasped his hands together. He said, "Exactly, celestial navigation! I have a feeling she wants us to do the mathematics, but it's gonna be excruciatingly exhausting!"

"This isn't a fun game, Krett. A life is on the line." I emphasized, sick of his intellectual curiosity. It seemed like a quiz or a problem to him for me and time was ticking.

He scowled again and said, "Fine, deal with it on your own. You're stupid enough not to call the cops by now, if a life is really on the line."

For the first time ever, I needed his help on this. I didn't know much about celestial navigation, but he certainly seemed to know more than I did. I said, "Wait, sorry."

"What was that?" He crossed his arms, quirking up a corner of his lips.

"A life is on the line, you can't just ignore it!" I yelled out of frustration.

He frowned and said, "My bad, it's the wind and not an apology at all."

He turned on his heel, before I stopped him by the shoulder and said, "Wait, please. Help me."

"It ain't an apology!" He whined, yanking my hand away from his shoulder.

"Fine, sorry!" I exclaimed, groaning in frustration.

"Good," He replied with a smirk, sitting on a plastic chair. "What can I do for you?"

Jeez, at a time like this. He picked the worst times and worst places and worst situations. I told him, "What's your hunch?"

He sighed and wrinkled his forehead. He said, "Well, celestial navigation was firstly conducted by the Polynesians."

He faltered away, wrinkling his forehead even further. Then, he made a bemused face and said, "Y'know what, I've got nothin'."

I felt like ripping his meat out, clawing on the cloth of my pants. I gritted my teeth and trembled in fury. Even the perverted, old man behind the counter stopped to look at us. A tilted picture frame hung behind him, catching my interest.

It looked clean and new, unlike the other framed pictures hanging on the deteriorating walls. It was too flashy, fancy, and fishy. A painting of Vikings sailing on a boat was kept neatly behind the frame glass and the sky was filled with stars. It was way too new for this dingy motel, but it could be an answer.

I asked Krett, "What do Vikings have to do with this?"

He piqued interest and let out a hum. He told me, "They didn't actually use stars to navigate, they're more of coastal navigators. No, I don't think they're familiar with celestial navigation because they used sun compasses and the sun never sets–"

"But, Anna doesn't know that." I interrupted him, walking towards the counter.

I pointed my finger at the picture and told the old man, "Can I see that picture?"

He scratched his bald spot, letting some of his white thinning hair fall unto his shoulders. He said, "Uh, sure?"

He walked limping towards the frame and took the picture frame. He came back with it and said, "Young man, are you planning to stay here?"

I grabbed the picture frame first and analyzed it. But, I said, "I'm considering."

The details were incredible, but I couldn't really find an answer. I asked the old man, "This painting is amazing, where did you get it?"

He chuckled and said, "Oh, it's a gift from one of the guests here! She's quite flexible, if you know what I'm saying."

I bit back an urge to make a disgusted expression on my face and focused on the picture. Krett walked over and examined the painting. He said, "Nothing special about it. I'm calling the cops."

I stopped him and said, "There's something, alright."

I hadn't actually gotten the answer, but it'd stop him from calling the cops for now. I counted the stars, the ships, and the people. It was a hard chance, but I had to emphasize it. There were endless stars, seven ships, and four visible Vikings. It wasn't an answer either.

I checked my wristwatch, only left with a mere ten minutes. I was starting to get antsy, but we're not going anywhere. I said, "I can't count the stars, but there are seven ships and four visible people."

Krett tugged on my shirt and motioned me to move. He snatched the picture and started letting his fingers graze over the painted skies. He murmured, "Aquila, Canis Major, Gemini, Lyra."

He turned around, staring at me in a speechless expression. He said, "There's four constellations."

"So, there's two fours and a seven." I concluded, silently solving the riddle Anna had told us. It's almost like a riddle game, but a life was on the line.

"A room number that begins with number seven is highly-unlikely." Krett stated, but he flinched at the dingy environment.

"Excuse me, are you talking about room 474 or 447?" The old man interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

He might know something. I asked him, "Which one of the room is occupied?"

He looked hesitant for a moment and answered, "447 is occupied, I'm sorry but are you going to check in for a room?"

"Is the girl who gave you this painting in room 447?" Krett ignored his question and asked him.

I knew that the old man was getting sick of us, because he resisted a scowl that crept up to his face anyway. He spat, "My customers' personal information are confidential."

Which meant it's hers. The rooms should be in the same floor, or not. I could only hope. I said, "I'll take the 474 room for a night."

I was sealed into a deal I wasn't going to make use of anyway, but that's what I had to do. I had to save Taylor, even if I had to sacrifice. I handled the papers and rushed Krett to the old-looking elevator, an antique. It was the third floor.

"This is intriguing." Krett suddenly commented.

"What is?" I asked him confused.

"We're working together without any hurdles," He told me, making me sink into realization. "To save a girl you love, which I would've ignored your pleads of help."

I released a sigh and said, "Well, it's nice to be like this instead of messing up each of us' pretty faces."

"I'm sorry." His voice was so small I couldn't hear it.

"What?" I asked him, although I caught the drift.

"I'm sorry." He spoke louder, but a scowl formed on his face and he cussed under his breath.

I smirked in victory and said, "Don't worry, I think either one of us will die, so your secretive apology will be carried to the grave."

My cellphone beeped this time, but it wasn't Anna at all. It was Damien.

Help will be there in a half an hour, but we're on standby in case anything happens.

I was about to text back, but the elevator came into a screeching halt and made us stumble slightly. I stepped out and took in the silent, eerie atmosphere.

A familiar scream resonated in the halls.