Chapter Text
The walk up the overgrown forest trail had been a masterclass in silent psychological torture.
To anyone watching through a lens, Yoshiki looked perfectly fine, calm even
He walked with his chin up, his posture straight, and his face a mask of cold, unbothered calm.
But on the inside?
His brain was a chaotic, rapid fire of sporadic, racing thoughts.
Why did I agree to this?
Maki is dead to me.
Asako is dead to me.
Is that asbestos on the roof?
What if a raccoon has rabies and attacks my face?
If a floorboard caves in and I break my ankle, Hikaru is going to leave me here to be eaten by a demon.
Yoshiki shoved his left hand deep into his jacket pocket, his fingers immediately finding the plastic ridge of his pill bottle.
He gave it a subtle, desperate squeeze.
The quiet, muffled rattle of his stomach medication was his only anchor to reality; a silent prayer was playing in his mind as he prayed for his stomach medication to kick in soon.
His stomach was already twisting itself into tight, agonizing knots, a cold wave of nausea washing over him every time the night wind howled through the treeline.
He swallowed hard, locking his jaw so tightly his teeth ached.
The dare required them to stay inside the rotting house for two whole hours.
If his medication didn't kick in soon, he was going to throw up, and he refused to give Hikaru the satisfaction of catching that on camera.
Hikaru looked into the lens with a relaxed smile, adjusting his grip on the phone, throwing on a cheerful, toothy grin along with a peace sign.
"What's up, internet? Welcome to the first official video of—"
“A terrible mistake,” Yoshiki interrupted, his jaw rigid as his wide, intense eyes scanned the dark porch.
“—of The New Ghostfacers!” Hikaru finished cheerfully, completely ignoring Yoshiki’s remark.
“Named after my favorite TV show–if you get it you get it–and dedicated to the fact that Yoshiki is a terrified little weenie.”
Yoshiki’s jaw tightened even further, his knuckles turning pure white against his flashlight.
“Hikaru, I swear to God, you better edit that out. You said we were just recording this to prove to Maki and Asako we actually stayed the two hours.”
“Oh, absolutely, totally editing it,” Hikaru lied smoothly, his thumb hovering idly near the record button as he nudged the front door open with his sneaker.
“Now stop squeezing your fists before you break the flashlight, and let's go find some ghosts. Maybe you’ll find your one true love!”
The front door groaned on rusted hinges, a sound that sent a literal shiver down Yoshiki’s spine.
He didn't say a word.
He just followed closely behind Hikaru, his flashlight beam trembling slightly despite how tightly he clamped his fingers around the plastic.
The air inside the house was freezing, thick with the smell of damp wood and decades of dust.
Yoshiki couldn’t help but sneeze quietly due to the dust and potent stench of decaying wood.
Hikaru turned his face slightly to Yoshiki and gave a teasing giggle at the soft-sounding sneeze, flashing a teasing grin before his gaze dropped back in front of them.
Hikaru strode right in, holding the phone high to capture the peeling wallpaper and the shadows stretching across the ceiling.
He was completely in his element, whispering spooky commentary to the camera like a seasoned professional.
Yoshiki, meanwhile, was fighting for his life.
Every single step they took resulted in the loud, sharp crunch of broken glass under their shoes.
To Yoshiki, each crunch sounded like a gunshot.
His eyes were wide, darting erratically from a dark doorway to a shattered mirror on the wall.
They reached the end of the long foyer when Yoshiki froze.
His voice completely died in his throat.
Right at the entrance of the kitchen, bathed in the pale moonlight from a broken window, stood a tall, jagged silhouette.
It looked exactly like a person standing perfectly still, waiting for them.
Yoshiki didn't scream.
He didn't even breathe.
Instinct took over.
He lunged sideways, his chest colliding with Hikaru's shoulder.
Without thinking, Yoshiki wrapped both hands around Hikaru’s forearm, gripping the thick fabric of his jacket sleeve with a white-knuckled force.
He squeezed his eyes shut, leaning heavily against his friend's side.
The solid warmth of Hikaru's body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the faint, familiar scent of his laundry detergent immediately washed over Yoshiki, acting as a massive anchor that pulled him right back down to earth.
He blinked his eyes open.
He looked closer.
It was just an old, crooked coat rack with a tattered blanket draped over it.
Realizing he was practically glued to Hikaru like a terrified child, Yoshiki ripped his hands away as if he’d been burned.
He took a massive, aggressive step to the side, shoving his trembling hands back into his pockets.
He cleared his throat roughly, his face burning red in the dark.
"Just... checking the structural integrity of the hallway floor. It looked uneven."
Hikaru didn't say anything at first.
He just turned the phone camera directly onto Yoshiki’s wide, flustered eyes.
Then, those quiet, airy, teasing giggles started vibrating in Hikaru's chest.
"Oh, totally," Hikaru whispered into the phone microphone, his eyes sparkling with pure mischief.
"Structural integrity. Hear that, guys? Yoshiki definitely didn't just use me as a human shield. He wants me to get eaten by a ghost so he can run away and survive! So rude, Yoshi. Anyways... make sure to clip that free hug for the compilation, viewers."
"Shut up and keep walking," Yoshiki snapped, his jaw tensing again as he marched past the coat rack, ignoring the smug grin plastered across Hikaru’s face.
They spent the next forty-five minutes navigating the lower floor.
Yoshiki managed to maintain his strict policy of "silent panic," keeping his fists clenched and his lips pressed into a thin line, even when a stray curtain fluttered or a floorboard creaked beneath them.
Hikaru kept up the constant, lively commentary, occasionally checking in on Yoshiki with a subtle nudge whenever he noticed Yoshiki’s hand drifting back toward his stomach medication pocket.
Eventually, they made their way up the creaking staircase to the master bedroom.
"Alright, Ghostfacers," Hikaru whispered to the lens, stepping into the center of the dusty room.
"We're going to check the master bathroom. Yoshiki, why don't you go ahead and investigate that dark closet over there? See if any ghouls are hiding in it! Give them a big kiss ol’ wet kiss for me if you do."
Yoshiki glared at him, but his pride refused to let him back down on camera.
"Shut up. Whatever..."
He walked over to the closet door.
His stomach did a violent flip, the nausea returning in a sharp wave.
He took a deep breath, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his teeth from chattering, and slowly pushed the closet door open.
He shone his flashlight inside.
It was empty.
Just a few old wire hangers dangling from a metal rod.
Yoshiki let out a long, silent breath, his shoulders dropping in relief.
He turned around to tell Hikaru the closet was clear.
The bedroom was pitch black.
And completely empty.
Hikaru was gone.
The bright glow of his phone screen was nowhere to be seen.
Panic, cold and absolute, flooded Yoshiki's chest and his heart dared to leap out of his chest.
His heart began hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
The fake calm he had maintained for the last hour completely shattered.
"Hikaru?" he whispered.
No response.
"Hikaru, this isn't funny. If you went downstairs without me, I'm going to throw your phone in the river."
Silence.
Dead, suffocating silence.
Yoshiki’s hands were shaking so violently now that the flashlight beam flickered wildly against the walls.
He took a fast, panicked step out of the bedroom, rushing toward the hallway doorframe—
"BOO!"
Hikaru leaped out from behind the door, his face illuminated by the bright, glaring screen of his phone.
Yoshiki let out a genuine, incredibly high-pitched shriek that echoed violently off the walls.
His grip failed entirely, and his heavy metal flashlight dropped, clattering loudly against the wooden floor.
He stumbled backward, his heel catching on a loose rug, and he nearly crashed to the ground before stabilizing himself against the wall.
His heart was in his throat, his chest heaving as his wide eyes stared at his friend.
Hikaru immediately collapsed against the wall, laughing so hard he completely lost his breath.
He was wheezing, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to keep the phone upright, desperately trying to capture the utterly horrified, red-faced, breathless expression on Yoshiki’s face.
"You—you absolute jerk!" Yoshiki yelled, his voice cracking as the terror rapidly melted into pure, burning fury.
He lunged forward, aggressively grabbing Hikaru by the shoulders and shoving him hard against the doorframe.
He slammed a fist into Hikaru’s shoulder, his face flushed a burning crimson.
"I hate you! I literally hate you! We are going home right now!"
"Your—your voice—" Hikaru wheezed, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he giggled uncontrollably, holding the phone steady through sheer willpower.
"Yoshi, you sounded like a literal dog’s squeaky toy! The viewers are going to love this so much!"
"Turn that off!" Yoshiki shouted, attempting to swat the phone out of his hand, which only caused Hikaru to duck and giggle harder, burying his face in his sleeve to stifle his laughter.
"Alright, alright! I'm turning it off!" Hikaru lied through his teeth, lowering the phone slightly but keeping the camera lens pointed directly at Yoshiki’s furious face.
Yoshiki snatched his fallen flashlight off the floor, dusting it off with shaky, aggressive swipes.
"Good. Because we are leaving. Right now."
Hikaru clicked his tongue, tapping his phone screen to pull up his timer.
"Uh, bad news, Yoshi. We’ve only been in here forty-five minutes. We still have an hour and fifteen minutes left to go."
Yoshiki’s entire face twisted into a deep, murderous scowl.
He stared at Hikaru as if he wanted to vaporize him on the spot.
“You better delete that footage, Hikaru,” Yoshiki hissed, his jaw clenching so tight a tiny muscle jumped in his cheek.
“I mean it. If Asako or Maki see that, I will never speak to you again.”
Hikaru let out another airy giggle, rolling his eyes playfully before nodding his head quickly, his messy snow-white hair getting into his eyes.
“Oh, totally. Gone. Deleted. Trust me, I would never betray my best friend like that.”
He was very obviously lying.
His eyes were practically dancing with amusement.
Yoshiki saw right through it, but his chest was still heaving, and his stomach was giving a nasty, anxious twist.
He didn't have the energy to fight him on it anymore.
He just wanted to survive the remaining seventy-five minutes and get out of this wretched house.
"Whatever," Yoshiki muttered, turning on his heel and shining his flashlight toward the door.
"Let's just get this over with. We’re checking downstairs again."
They slowly made their way back down the creaking staircase.
The air seemed even thicker on the first floor, smelling heavily of damp earth and rotting wood.
Hikaru navigated them into the massive, dilapidated living room.
It was full of shadowed corners and old furniture covered in pale, dusty sheets.
Hikaru was holding the phone up again, panning it around to capture the eerie vibe, talking in a low, dramatic whisper for the video.
Yoshiki walked a few paces behind him, his hands stuffed back into his pockets, his left hand desperately squeezing his pill bottle.
He was staring intensely at a cracked window, his mind racing with rapid, paranoid thoughts about shadows moving outside.
Because he was so distracted, he didn't notice Hikaru stop walking.
Hikaru, trying to get a better camera angle on a creepy old fireplace, took a slow, blind step backward.
His back bumped right into Yoshiki’s chest.
Yoshiki’s wide eyes flew open even wider, and his "silent panic" completely evaporated for the second time.
He let out a ridiculously high-pitched yelp right behind Hikaru, the sudden, loud noise right behind his ear completely caught Hikaru off guard.
Hikaru’s calm exterior shattered in a split second.
"Ah!?" Hikaru blurted out, a quick, loud, and thoroughly confused burst of terror escaping his throat.
His knees buckled slightly in surprise, and his hand jerked violently, causing the phone camera to whip wildly toward the ceiling.
He spun around on his heel, his eyes wide and blinking fast, looking entirely dazed and bewildered.
For three whole seconds, the two of them just stood in the middle of the dusty room, panting heavily and staring at each other like two idiots.
Yoshiki was the first to break the silence, his face burning a furious crimson as he realized they had just scared each other over absolutely nothing.
"Idiot! You're—You're an idiot! You scared me for no reason!" Yoshiki shouted, his voice cracked sharply at the end, trembling with a volatile mix of pure frustration and lingering adrenaline.
He took a frantic step back, glaring at the other boy as if that would stop his heart from pounding against his ribs.
Hikaru didn't say a word.
He just stood there, staring blankly at Yoshiki for a few agonizingly silent seconds.
His eyes were still wide, his phone camera tilted at an awkward angle, capturing the absolute chaos of the moment.
Then, the silence of the house was completely shattered.
Hikaru burst out into a loud, roaring laugh that echoed deeply into the rickety, decaying building; it was loud enough for any ghost to know exactly where they were.
He doubled over, clutching his stomach with his free hand while the phone camera bobbed up and down erratically.
"Oh my god," Hikaru wheezed between bursts of laughter, his snow-white hair falling wildly over his face.
"You—you screamed like you just saw a phantom! And then you called me an idiot!"
"You are an idiot!" Yoshiki snapped, his face burning a furious, dark crimson.
He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, turning his body away to hide the fact that his hands were still shaking.
His stomach gave another uneasy, queasy roll, and he silently prayed his medication would do its job soon.
"Hikaru, I mean it, turn that off," he muttered under his breath, his teeth gritting together.
Hikaru finally managed to calm his laughter down to a series of breathy, quiet giggles, wiping a tear from his eye.
He lifted the phone back up, bringing his own grinning face into the frame alongside Yoshiki’s brooding profile.
"Shucks Yoshi. You know I’d loveee to, but I can't turn it off," Hikaru whispered into the microphone, his eyes dancing with pure amusement.
"The New Ghostfacers don't cut the film when things get real. Besides, the viewers need to see your “structural integrity check."
Yoshiki let out a sharp, irritated huff, refusing to look at the lens.
"I'm going to sit on that haunted cushion you found," Yoshiki threatened weakly, staring blankly into the dark hallway.
"Just so the bad luck follows me home and keeps me away from you for a week."
Hikaru let out another soft giggle, shifting his weight as he pointed his flashlight toward the back of the living room.
"Aw, don't be like that. We still have an hour left, remember? Plus, you wouldn’t survive a week away from me, I am your best friend after all, you emo."
"Whatever," Yoshiki mumbled as he rolled his eyes behind his bangs, though he didn't push it any further.
His legs were starting to feel heavy from all the built-up tension.
He looked around the decaying living room and spotted a relatively sturdy-looking wooden bench near the wall.
It was covered in dust, but it was better than standing.
He walked over, blew a heavy gust of air to clear off a small patch of the surface, and sat down with a weary sigh.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, staring down at his sneakers while his left hand subconsciously massaged his tight abdomen through his jacket.
Hikaru followed him over, casually plopping down on the other end of the bench.
He didn't turn off the phone, but he rested it on his lap, letting the camera angle point up vaguely at the peeling wallpaper on the ceiling.
For the next twenty minutes, they just sat there, letting the heavy silence of the house wash over them.
The quiet rest gave Yoshiki’s nerves a much-needed break, and he could feel his stomach medication finally starting to soothe the sharp knots in his gut.
As the physical panic faded, it was replaced by pure irritation, and Yoshiki found his voice again.
"I am going to make Maki deeply regret this," Yoshiki muttered, his voice echoing quietly in the dark room.
"I know for a fact this was his idea. Asako is chill, she doesn’t do dares, and she wouldn’t damn me to this hell on her own. Maki definitely gave her the bright idea to dare me. He’s always the one with stupid ideas."
Hikaru shifted on the bench, his messy white hair catching the faint moonlight as he listened with an amused smirk.
"Oh, absolutely," Yoshiki continued, rambling now as he gestured aggressively with his flashlight.
"He knew I'd have to say yes just to keep them from holding it over my head for the next semester. When we get back, I’m putting salt in his drink. Or stealing his bike keys. I haven't decided yet."
Hikaru let out a soft, breathy giggle at the sheer pettiness of the threats.
But as Yoshiki kept venting about their friends, Hikaru's flashlight beam idly drifted across the room.
The light cut through the shadows near the far corner of the living room, illuminating a heavy, old wooden door that was slightly askew.
A rusted brass padlock hung loosely from the latch, broken open years ago.
It was the door leading straight down into the basement.
A wicked, brilliant idea instantly sparked in Hikaru's mind.
He quietly lifted the phone, making sure to keep his movements completely silent so he wouldn't interrupt Yoshiki's angry rant.
Slowly, deliberately, Hikaru panned the camera lens away from the ceiling.
He pointed it directly at the dark, ominous basement door, letting the viewer see exactly what he had just found.
Then, he slowly turned the phone camera back around to face himself.
Hikaru looked straight into the lens, throwing on a wide, teasing, and thoroughly wicked grin that practically screamed trouble.
Yoshiki remained sitting idly on the dusty wood, his flashlight beam dropping to the floor.
A confused thought wandered into his mind as he watched his friend move away.
That confusion quickly turned into a cold, quiet terror when Hikaru stopped at the threshold.
Hikaru turned around on his heel, throwing on a toothy grin that stretched from ear to ear, his eyes crinkling with pure, malicious joy.
Yoshiki immediately began shaking his head, his wide eyes glued to that dark, open doorway.
"No. No, no, Hikaru. We're not going into the basement. We are not doing that," Yoshiki murmured blankly, a slight, uncontrollable tremor creeping into his voice.
Hikaru let out a devilish giggle, tilting the phone camera up to catch Yoshiki's terrified posture.
"Don't worry Yoshi, do you want your knight in shining armor to protect you?" Hikaru asked in a tone of exaggerated, teasing gentleness.
Before Yoshiki could even process the insult, Hikaru quickly forced his voice into a ridiculous, high-pitched caricature of Yoshiki's voice.
"Oh yes Hikaru, please protect me. You're so strong and handsome—"
"Oh my God, shut up! Go down there already! I seriously hope you get possessed!" Yoshiki quickly shouted, his face instantly erupting into a furious, burning crimson.
Yoshiki stood up abruptly from the bench, glowering at the white-haired boy.
His jaw locked tight, and his teeth grinded aggressively against each other as he forced his feet to move forward.
He walked slowly, his boots dragging against the dusty floorboards until he stopped exactly two steps behind Hikaru.
The air blowing up from the basement felt entirely different than the rest of the house.
It was damp, freezing cold, and smelled heavily of old metal and wet concrete.
Yoshiki’s hand instantly gripped onto his flashlight, his knuckles turning white at the firm grip of the plastic wrapping.
The flashlight flickered a few times before fully powering on with its bright beam.
Hikaru just chuckled at the dark stairs, flipping his phone back to face the pitch-black abyss below them.
"The New Ghostfacers are going underground, viewers," Hikaru whispered into the mic, his eyes shining with absolute excitement.
"Let's see what's waiting for us."
Hikaru took the first step down, the old wood letting out a sharp, groaning complaint under his weight.
Yoshiki followed immediately, his heart doing a violent leap into his throat.
Without thinking, he reached out and firmly placed his right hand onto Hikaru's shoulder.
His fingers dug into the fabric of Hikaru's jacket, using the excuse that he just needed support in case one of the rotted stairs broke beneath him.
But the solid, warm weight of Hikaru’s shoulder was the only thing keeping him from turning around and sprinting out the front door.
Step by step, they descended deeper into the damp, freezing abyss.
"I hate this. I hate you. I hate this house. I hate this basement," Yoshiki murmured sharply under his breath.
His voice was barely a whisper, heavily laced with a trembling, breathless terror, but in the dead silence of the stairwell, it was crystal clear.
"Why are we doing this? Why did I follow? I should have just let Maki laugh at me..."
Hikaru let out a quiet, airy giggle that muffled against his sleeve.
The microphone on the phone caught every single bit of Yoshiki's panicked mantra.
"Don't worry, Yoshi," Hikaru whispered back, his voice surprisingly gentle amidst the dark.
He shrugged his shoulder slightly, just enough to playfully nudge Yoshiki’s hand without breaking his grip.
"If the stairs break, I'll catch you. And if a ghost pops out, I'll make sure it goes for me first, okay? And if it makes you feel any better... There’s only fifty more minutes left of your torment, you dork."
It was half teasing, but the soft undertone of the words gave Yoshiki’s twisting stomach a strange, sudden moment of calm.
The air at the bottom of the stairs was thick and stale, the beams of their lights cutting through decades old untouched cobwebs.
They finally reached the concrete floor of the basement, the darkness swallowing them whole.
Hikaru’s flashlight beam danced across the grimy concrete wall until it landed on an old, plastic light switch.
With a bright, hopeful grin, Hikaru reached out and flicked it upward.
A heavy, hollow click echoed through the basement.
The darkness remained completely untouched.
Yoshiki stared at Hikaru’s profile, his expression flat and thoroughly stupefied by his friend's optimism.
"The hell were you thinking would happen? Did you forget this is abandoned?" Yoshiki remarked, a deadpan huff escaping his lips.Hikaru didn't even look back at him.
He just tilted his head, immediately repeating Yoshiki's words in an exaggerated, high-pitched mockery.
"ThE hElL wErE yOu ThInKiNg WoUlD hApPeN? dId YoU fOrGeT tHiS iS aBaNdOnEd?"
Yoshiki rolled his eyes aggressively behind his bangs, shifting his weight away from Hikaru’s shoulder.
"You're impossible," Yoshiki muttered, turning his flashlight toward a stack of old, water-damaged cardboard boxes near the center of the room.
He forced his feet to move forward, his white-knuckled grip on his flashlight tightening as he approached the first box.
He angled his bright beam inside, looking down at a heavy, thick plastic box of an old retro television set, its screen cracked down the middle.
"Just a bunch of junk," Yoshiki reported under his breath, his heart rate finally starting to stabilize.
He moved his light to the next box, peering into a tangled mess of dusty cables and old, decaying wires.
He took another step, shining his light into the third cardboard box in the row.
Yoshiki froze.
His jaw instantly locked up, and his wide eyes grew massive as the beam of his light illuminated a pile of weird-looking porcelain dolls.
Their glass eyes stared blankly back up at him through the dust, their painted smiles cracked and peeling.
"These things are disgusting," Yoshiki muttered, his voice flat but laced with genuine revulsion.
He kept his flashlight beamed tightly on the pile of cracked porcelain faces.
"How did people actually like these things? It looks like a serial killer's starter kit."
Hikaru curiously walked over, his sneakers making absolutely no sound on the damp concrete floor.
He slipped right behind Yoshiki, keeping the phone camera angled perfectly to capture both the box of dolls and the back of Yoshiki's head.
Slowly, deliberately, Hikaru leaned his face in.
He blew a sharp gust of ice-cold air directly onto the back of Yoshiki's neck.
Yoshiki’s entire body stiffened as if he’d been struck by lightning.
A quiet, strained yelp escaped his throat, his breath hitching violently as he whipped around on his heel.
Hikaru was standing right there, sporting a massive, mocking grin that crinkled his eyes with absolute delight.
"You—you absolute jackass! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" Yoshiki hissed in a furious whisper, his face burning a bright crimson.
Hikaru stuck his tongue out teasingly before looking into the box, the camera panning down into the pile of cracked porcelain faces.
Hikaru quickly nodded, agreeing with Yoshiki's statement.
"Yeah, those things are nasty. But, this building is, like, eighty years old, so..."
Yoshiki rolled his eyes, letting Hikaru change the subject.
"Yeah... But still. If I had a daughter eighty years ago, I wouldn't burden her with... that..." Yoshiki shuddered.
He had always been deeply unsettled by dolls, especially those with strange, human yet inhuman eyes.
Hikaru let out another soft giggle, nudging Yoshiki's shoulder playfully with his own.
"You like monsters like Godzilla, yet you hate these dolls?"
Yoshiki stared blankly at Hikaru, quickly letting out a deadpanned,
"Yes. Absolutely."
"A giant radioactive lizard makes sense, Hikaru. A tiny plastic child with a cracked face staring into your soul does not."
Hikaru cracked up, his shoulders shaking as he aimed the phone back at Yoshiki’s completely serious, unblinking face.
"Fair point, Yoshi. Fair point. Totally. Agreed." Hikaru relaxed his face into a serious, deadpanned face similar to Yoshiki’s.
They stared at each other for a few quiet moments before they both started laughing loudly, whilst Hikaru cracked up, he sounded like a Windex spray bottle.
They stared at each other for a few quiet moments before they both started laughing loudly, whilst Hikaru cracked up, he sounded like a Windex spray bottle.
Suddenly, their shared laughter was violently cut short.
A heavy cardboard box from a shelf behind them fell onto the ground with a loud, sudden clatter.
Yoshiki gasped, his body reacting instantly as he quickly jumped right to Hikaru's side, clenching his fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palms.
They both stared intensely at the source of the noise.Hikaru slowly, with a trembling hand, moved his flashlight beam over the fallen box.
A tiny grey rat suddenly scurried out from beneath the flap, its tiny paws scratching against the concrete as it bolted into the darkness.
Yoshiki and Hikaru let out a loud, synchronized sigh of relief.
They chuckled in a brief, awkward silence between them, their shoulders dropping as the tension broke.
But before they could truly relax, the shadow of the box began to crawl.
A massive, swarming wave of cockroaches, house centipedes, and termites began pouring out of the damp cardboard, scattering wildly in every direction, a few scuttling straight towards Hikaru’s feet.
"OH MY GOD THERE'S BUGS." Hikaru quickly shouted in a state of pure, disturbed terror, his voice reaching a pitch Yoshiki had never heard before.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT CENTIPEDE-LOOKING THING!? YOSHIKI, GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BASEMENT ALREADY! GO, GO, GO!"
Hikaru didn't even wait for a response.
He spun on his heel and began sprinting up the rickety wooden stairs, yelling at the top of his lungs while the phone camera whipped wildly, recording a chaotic blur of ceiling beams and his own frantic breathing.
Yoshiki stood his ground for a fraction of a second, staring at the floor.
He didn't really see what was so wrong about a few bugs, but he knew for a fact that Hikaru absolutely despised them.
An internal smirk flashed through his mind; this was something he could ruthlessly make fun of for the rest of his life, and he knew the internet comments would have a field day with it.
However, a sudden look at the creeping shadows reminded Yoshiki that he was about to be left completely alone in the dark of a haunted basement.
The realization hit him like ice water.
Yoshiki quickly followed suit, abandoning his bewildered stance as he leaped onto the creaking steps, sprinting up the stairs a frantic three paces behind a screaming Hikaru.
Hikaru’s phone timer suddenly erupted into a loud, cheerful beep-beep-beep right as his boots slammed onto the porch.
He sprinted straight out of the front door and exited the house, throwing himself out into the cool, fresh night air.
He immediately bent down, holding his unoccupied hand firmly against his knee as he panted heavily, his chest heaving from the sudden cardio and the sheer adrenaline of the bug invasion.
Yoshiki burst out right behind him, letting the heavy front door slam shut on its hinges.
He leaned back against the exterior wall of the house, letting out a long, breathless sigh.
He was absolutely, profoundly thankful to hear the ringing of Hikaru's timer echoing under the moonlight.
Two hours.
They had actually survived the full two hours.
While Yoshiki stood there panting quietly, his stomach finally relaxing as the cold mountain air hit his face, a slow, malicious grin began to spread across his lips.
He looked down at the white-haired boy who was still doubled over in absolute defeat.
Yoshiki cleared his throat, deliberately pitching his voice into a ridiculous, mocking falsetto.
"Oh My GoD tHeRe'S bUgS. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT CENTIPEDE-LOOKING THING?!"
Yoshiki let out a sharp, triumphant huff, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Maki and Asako are going to absolutely love seeing that," Yoshiki sneered, his tone dripping with sweet satisfaction.
"And everyone else who watches the video, too. You're never going to live this down, Hikaru."
Hikaru slowly lifted his head, his face flushed red from running and his snow-white hair completely disheveled.
He let out a small, dramatic, whiny groan, burying his face in his jacket sleeve.
"Nooooo! That's so embarrassing!" Hikaru whined into his arm, his usual cool confidence completely shattered.
"Why didn't you have to be the only one embarrassed?! This ruins my whole aesthetic!"
Yoshiki just let out a rare, genuine chuckle, tapping his foot against the porch floor.
"Karma's a bitch. Now turn off the camera, jackass. We're going home."
Hikaru let out one last quiet whine before lifting the phone, flashing a thoroughly exhausted, pouty peace sign to the lens.
“Ughhh! Alright Ghostfacers... If this does good, I’ll force Yoshi to go to more spoOoOoOky places! Do your magic and make fun of our emo weenie Yoshiki!” Hikaru teased happily, his grin returning to his face.
“Dude! You just screamed like a little piss-baby because of harmless bugs! You can’t be calling me a weenie after that—”
“Okay, by Ghosterfacers! Until next time!” Hikaru interrupted, finally tapping the screen to end the recording.