Gabby was the one that opened the door. It was just as well, really, because you weren't sure if you would have stopped your arm from slamming the door in their faces.

You heard the woman's voice first. It was sprauncy and made it clear that she wasn't part of the world that most people lived in. 'Gabby, darling, how have you been? Is Jack here? I know we're a bit early, but we were nearby and thought that we should pop in! Isn't that right, Harrison?'

'It is.' The man, Harrison, spoke in a clipped voice that sounded slightly irritated, as though he had had no say about the visit.

'Um, sorry, but Jack isn't here right now,' Gabby told them, 'but you can come back later? When he is here?'

'Are you hiding something from us, dear? There's no need to sound so awkward.' All pleasantries were seemingly thrown out the window, and you suddenly became very concerned about Gabby's wellbeing—concerned to the point that you got up and stood next to her in the doorway. You knew that she was both physically and mentally robust, but there was something about the pair that made you wonder if the ever-vigourous Gabby had finally met her match. Stood there wrapped in a dressing gown, her light hazel hair wrapped into a strange knot and held back by a large, claw-like clip, the intruders almost made her seem smaller. (Keyword: almost.)

Speaking of the intruders, they were both well-dressed and easily in their fifties: the woman in a long, maroon-coloured shearling coat, and the man in a blue suit with a scarf wrapped around his neck. Despite the grey that was beginning to creep out from her roots, the woman's hair was a familiar shade of brown, and your fists clenched, nails jabbing the squidgy flesh of your palm.

Through the rage, you forced a smile. 'Jack should be back in a few days,' you said. 'Why don't you come by next weekend? I'll let him know that you stopped by.'

'And you are...?' The woman frowned snootily, her fixed, piercing look scanning your entire being.

Jack, I promise to ask you properly when you get back. 'I'm his partner.'

'His partner?' The man, Harrison, couldn't hide his disbelief even if he tried. Wide-eyed, he gaped at you as if he couldn't work out if you were really telling the truth. 'You're dating him?'

'That's right.' Now please go away.

Your plan didn't work. The woman let out a shrill gasp and practically leapt at you, arms locking around your neck like iron bars, making you unable to escape her grasp.

'Oh how wonderful!' she cooed, 'our little boy's found someone!' She suddenly backed off. 'What do you want?'

'Please, Carolyn, lower your voice,' Gabby pleaded, but the woman ignored her and repeated her question—this time filled with intense loathing.

'I don't want anything,' you replied. 'Listen, either come in, or go home. Jack isn't here.'

The man folded his arms in an attempt to look intimidating. 'Then where is he?'

You and Gabby shared a quick, somewhat frightened look. The two of you hadn't come up with an excuse to use if anyone asked where Jack was, and now that you had to think of one, it seemed to be impossible. There were so many lies that you could tell, but how many of them were credible? It wasn't like you were lying to the postman—these people were his parents, the ones who raised him and spent eighteen years in the same house as him. What would happen of you said he was away on a hike, only to be told he was afraid of heights?

Thankfully, Gabby was an angel in human form and said: 'He's gone to Australia.'

'Australia? That's on the other side of the bloody globe!' Harrison exclaimed, eyes filled with unsaid accusations. 'What the hell is he doing in Australia?'

'Greg's taken him to go visit some restaurants round there. He always talked about going back in uni, and Greg managed to get some tickets.' Gabby laughed airily, but her hands were shaking. 'So, yeah, they won't be back until the weekend.'

The woman gestured to you like you were a piece of mouldy gum on the underside of a table in a senior school lunch hall. 'And they're here because...?'

'We're keeping each other company.'

'Now,' you said, reaching for the door, 'we'd really appreciate it if you could leave—since Jack isn't here—and come back next Sunday. Bye bye!' Waving, you pushed the door closed, shutting them out and locking the door so they couldn't force their way in. You felt an involuntary sigh of relief leave your lungs once the chain was across and the key was turned.

'I had no idea they knew where I lived,' Gabby hissed, crouching slightly so her head wasn't in line with the peephole. 'They've never come round before, and this is why. They're like, I dunno, fucking ants. You try and get rid of them but they always come back.' There was a wide, almost desperate look in her eyes and she said, 'Never look out the door without checking who's outside. If it's them, don't answer.'

All you could was nod. 'Greg can't answer the door for a while.'

'Shit. That's fine. We can deal with it. I'll tell him when he wakes up.'

'You'll tell me what when I wake up?' The sudden voice startled both you and Gabby, yet you felt slightly guilty for that when you saw the weariness that filled his features.

Gabby explained what had occurred over the past few minutes, and when she finished her mini-story, Greg took a deep breath, turned ninety degrees and let his forehead fall against the wall with a resounding thud, letting out a broken and defeated groan.

'Greg, we've handled it, you don't have to worry,' you said hurriedly. 'Please. Have a day off. I'll go look for Jack today. You've done enough.'

Gabby moved over so she was stood next to him, a hand resting on his back. '(Y/N)'s got a point. You have to stop overworking yourself like this.' With a few more coaxing words, she slowly steered him back in the direction of the bedroom, glancing over her shoulder back at you. Even though she had taken the time off work (as had you and Greg) and hadn't been searching, the visit from Jack's parents had shaken her to the bone, and it was obvious in that moment.

You never expected that the visit from them would be the first of many. Sometimes, they were sat outside in a car, occasionally staring daggers through the living room window and scowling when someone shut the blinds. Other times, it was someone you didn't recognise, yet their demeanour screamed, 'I was hired by two rich people and I'm only doing this because the pay check is fucking wild.' Once or twice, they or Jack's parents would knock on the door, but all three of you left it alone. The front door became a cursed item that you didn't have the nerve to approach.

Their presence made searching for Jack impossible. You didn't dare go outside in case you were trapped in a conversation that demanded explanations, and as far as they were concerned, Greg was in Australia, so he couldn't exactly wander out there either. You only left the house once to get some clothes from home, and then your car was locked away in the garage so only Greg's remained on the drive.

Gabby didn't want you to go home. She didn't say anything explicitly, but you presumed that she was scared that you would do something drastic if you were alone, and, to be quite frank, you were subconsciously glad that she and Greg allowed to camp out in their living room, because you weren't sure if you would have stopped yourself from scouting the town in the middle of the night. The desperation was getting close to the boiling point, and it exploded on Sunday.

Jack had been missing for eight days. Eight, long, blurred days that felt like millennia. You had never spent such a long amount of time in such a stressed state—your muscles never truly relaxed, and your brain assumed that every shadow outside was him. Sleep didn't ease the fatigue that constantly plagued your mind, and no amount of video games, TV, or other pleasantly mind-numbing activities could relinquish you from the claws of your thoughts. (In fact, you had been so desperate to stop thinking that you had nearly rewatched all six seasons of a TV show from when you were little. It was history themed, and the silly jokes and songs never failed to put a smile on your face while the familiarity of the original cast gave you a sense of comfort from the past.)

Needless to say, when a firm knock sliced through the silence of the house, you shot up and marched towards the door, throwing it open with such abruptness that Carolyn took a step back.

'You're so lucky that I haven't reported you to the police yet,' you snapped. 'Sitting outside someone's house and hiring people to sit outside their house could probably count as stalking, or some other offence. What do you want?'

Both of them bristled, and Harrison began to say, 'Now look here,' but you didn't let him.

'No, don't try and argue with me. Just tell me what the fuck you want.'

'We want to see our boy,' Carolyn declared. 'You've been hiding him from us, and we demand to see him. No plane tickets under the name of Greg Hunt or Jonathon Nichols have been purchased, so you've been lying to us. If you don't tell us where he is, you shall be hearing from our solicitor. '

It was obvious that she had been rehearsing that for days, and it made you laugh for the first time since Jack had vanished. 'Join the club of wanting to know where he is. He's been missing for about a week, but what do you care? You'll probably use this to fuel your reputation too, won't you? You did the first time.'

'Whatever do you mean? How heartless do you think we are?'

'I never said you were heartless. I implied that you used his disappearance as a sob story to boost your image and make people feel sorry for you—and for what? More money? Is he an investment to you or something?'

'Of course he isn't,' Harrison retorted. 'He's our son; our pride and joy!'

'Funny, from what I've been told, it sounds like you guys aren't due the parents of the year award anytime soon. Listen, the way you've treated him makes me sick, so don't show your face around here again. If he wants to speak to you, then for him, I'll be cordial. If not, don't expect anything from me. Bye.' You slammed the door in their faces, glad that they were at a loss for words.

Clearly not used to people standing up to them.

'I like how they didn't even register that he's currently missing,' Greg said with a snort from the living room doorway. 'Bastards.'

You sighed, feeling yourself deflate. 'I know. Why'd they called him "Jonathon" though? Full name?'

'Yep. Welcome to their world: everyone needs a long name that can be shortened to a nicer one.'

happy (early) new year ! my re-write of chpt 2 is nearly complete, and chpt 35 is about 45% done, but it wont be out for a while.

- k.