Chapter Text
The rusted chain-link fence surrounding the perimeter of the park might as well have had a giant neon sign reading: DO NOT ENTER.
To Yoshiki, everything about the towering, skeletal roller coaster tracks cutting into the night sky screamed immediate danger.
His stomach was already doing anxious flips, and he subconsciously checked the pocket containing his medication, praying he wouldn't need it.
"Hikaru, I mean it," Yoshiki grumbled, his voice low and sharp as he pointed his flickering flashlight at a faded, peeling billboard of a terrifying vintage clown face.
"This place has massive stay-out vibes. There’s literally a padlock the size of my head on the front gate. We shouldn't be—"
"What's up, Ghostfacers! Welcome back to the channel!" Hikaru suddenly cheered, completely cutting him off.
He held his phone high on a brand new, incredibly cheap-looking plastic selfie stick, throwing up a bright peace sign and his signature toothy grin.
"We are officially live-ish at our second location, the notorious Whistling Pines Amusement Park!"
Yoshiki’s jaw locked tight, an irritated huff escaping his lips as he realized he had been talked over yet again.
"As you can hear, my emo companion Yoshiki is already complaining in the background," Hikaru laughed into the lens, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"But the algorithm demands content, and we—”
“You,” Yoshiki interrupted with an annoyed huff, folding his arms with a blank expression.
“—do not disappoint our twelve thousand subscribers!" Hikaru finished, his grin widening at Yoshiki’s interruption.
Hikaru smoothly spun the selfie stick around, bringing both of their faces into the frame.
Yoshiki refused to look directly at the lens as his rapid, sporadic thoughts began to swirl.
Twelve thousand people.
Twelve thousand strangers are watching me look like an idiot in front of a giant clown billboard.
Hikaru tilted his head, his messy snow-white hair catching the pale moonlight as he gave Yoshiki a knowing, thoroughly wicked grin.
"Now turn that frown upside down, Yoshi," Hikaru teased softly, his voice dropping into that highly amused purr.
"We just started the video, so don't go giving the viewers that terrible 'grumpy cat' pout of yours."
Yoshiki’s entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson.
His eyes widened in a mix of pure embarrassment and sudden fury.
Hikaru was trying to get people curious about his stupid pout so he could show the picture off and get more views and subscribers.
Seriously, Why did I do that...
How embarrassing.
"Delete that sentence," Yoshiki hissed under his breath.
He leaned forward, violently reaching his hand up to grab the cheap plastic of the selfie stick.
"I mean it, Hikaru. Do not show anyone that photo."
Hikaru let out a series of those loud, airy giggles, instantly twisting his body away to shield the phone from Yoshiki’s swatting hand.
The camera shook wildly, capturing a blurry loop of the night sky and Hikaru's messy white hair.
"Too late!" Hikaru chirped into the mic, completely outmaneuvering him with a wide, toothy grin.
"Viewers! If we hit fifteen thousand subscribers by the end of the week, I'll drop the grumpy cat picture on our community tab!"
"You're a demon. You were sent from Hell to torture me. Admit it," Yoshiki muttered, his voice cracking slightly in pure desperation.
He quickly pulled his hand back, folding his arms tightly over his chest to hide his trembling fists.
His face was still burning a dark crimson, and his stomach gave a warning, nervous twitch.
"I hate you. I seriously hate you." Yoshiki grunted, utterly defeated.
"Love you too, Yoshi," Hikaru hummed happily, adjusting his grip on the stick so the lens was stable again.
Yoshiki’s face immediately burned red at the playful tease; he was thankful the camera wasn’t on him, or at least he hoped.
He spun around to face the rusted chain-link perimeter fence, pointing his flashlight at a large, torn gap in the metal wires.
"Alright, Ghostfacers, the front gate is locked, but looks like someone left a backdoor open for us."
"Let's go explore the midway."
Hikaru slipped through the gap first, his white hair disappearing into the pitch-black shadows of the park.
Yoshiki stood outside the fence for a single, agonizing second.
The cold night wind whistled eerily through the empty skeletons of the roller coasters.
His rapid, sporadic thoughts immediately returned.
If I stay out here alone, a cop will catch me.
Or a real monster will eat me.
But if I go in there, Hikaru is going to torment me for as long as we’re in there.
Realizing he had absolutely no choice, Yoshiki let out a sharp, defeated huff.
He stepped forward, ducking his head as he carefully crawled through the sharp metal gap, following close behind his idiotic partner in crime.
They stepped onto the cracked asphalt of the amusement park's main midway.
The silence here was completely different from the forest trail.
It felt heavy, crowded by the giant, decaying shapes of old game booths and ticket stands.
The very first attraction they passed was a massive, ancient strength-striker game.
A giant, faded cartoon mallet lay rotting in the weeds next to a rusted metal tower.
At the very top of the tower, a cracked plastic skull replaced the traditional bell, its empty sockets staring down at them.
"Check out the prize booth, Ghostfacers," Hikaru whispered into the mic, his selfie stick panning smoothly to the left.
Inside the booth, dozens of water-damaged, moldy stuffed animals were still hanging from hooks by their necks, swaying gently in the night wind.
Yoshiki felt a cold shiver run down his spine, his jaw locking tight as his eyes darted from booth to booth.
This is worse than the house.
Everything looks like a corpse–frozen in time, decaying slowly.
Suddenly, Yoshiki’s boot kicked something hard on the ground, making a hollow plastic sound.
He jumped back half a step, his white-knuckled grip on his flashlight tightening instantly as he aimed the beam downward.
It wasn't park trash.
Lying in the center of the path was a relatively fresh, neon-pink plastic flashlight, its lens completely shattered.
Right next to it lay a crumpled, modern backpack, its zipper torn open and the contents spilled across the asphalt.
Yoshiki stepped closer, his heart rate spiking as his flashlight beam illuminated a small, legal-sized notepad half-shoved inside the bag.
Scribbled across the exposed page in frantic, messy handwriting were the words: IT DOESN'T TURN OFF DO NOT TRIP THE—
The sentence cut off in a violent ink smear, the page stained with dark, dried dirt.
Yoshiki’s breath hitched, his rapid, sporadic thoughts hitting an absolute fever pitch.
Someone was here recently.
Someone was running.
What didn't turn off?
What did they trip?
"Hikaru," Yoshiki rasped, his voice trembling as he lunged forward, grabbing a tight handful of Hikaru’s sleeve.
"Hikaru, look at this. Someone left their gear. We need to leave. Right now."
Hikaru didn't giggle this time.
He slowly lowered the selfie stick, his eyes crinkling as he stared down at the broken flashlight and the frantic warning on the note.
For three agonizingly quiet seconds, the midway was completely dead.
“Ah... Ahah, maybe an animatronic got them?” Hikaru tried to joke, his voice slightly strained in nervousness, discomfort, and a tremor of fear.
Then, deep within the center of the park, a massive mechanical THUD shook the ground beneath their boots.
The vibration traveled all the way up through the soles of Yoshiki's sneakers.
His breath completely hitched, his fingers clenching into Hikaru’s sleeve so hard his knuckles turned a stark white.
He didn't scream, his jaw locking instantly as his wide, intense eyes darted toward the center of the park.
Before either of them could even utter a word, a deafening screech of feedback ripped through the empty air.
A massive bank of old, rusted floodlights high above the midway snapped on with a violent, blinding flash.
The sudden, intense light painted the entire asphalt a sickly, artificial yellow.
Right on the heels of the light, a nearby speaker box blew out a heavy cloud of dust and static.
A loud, blaring, deeply distorted circus song began to loop through the park grounds.
The music was warped, skipping and slowing down at random intervals like a dying music box.
"What the fuck—" Hikaru blurted out, his grip on the selfie stick jerking violently as the camera whipped around.
His previous nervous smile completely vanished, replaced by a dazed, bewildered look as the flashing yellow lights bounced off his snow-white hair.
"Hikaru! The note—they tripped the power!" Yoshiki shouted over the blaring music, his voice cracking sharply in pure panic.
His internal monologue was a screaming siren of sporadic thoughts.
It's too loud.
Someone is going to call the cops.
What if the machine is automated?
What if something is controlling it?
My stomach is churning...
If this keeps up I’m going to be sick.
He reached into his jacket pocket, his trembling fingers frantically tapping against the plastic bottle of his stomach medication, desperately wishing he could take another pill right now.
Instead, his instinct took over.
He lunged closer to Hikaru's side, pressing his shoulder flat against his partner's arm, using the solid weight of his best friend to anchor his spinning mind.
Hikaru didn't giggle or tease him this time.
He kept the phone raised, but his thumb was visibly trembling against the handle of the selfie stick.
Suddenly, just twenty feet ahead of them, the heavy metal gears of the old carousel began to grind together with a sickening crunch.
The colorful wooden horses slowly began to move up and down, their painted eyes catching the flashing, sickly yellow light.
“Y-Y’know Yoshi, this is usually when a serial killer would pop out of the distance—”
“NOT HELPFUL,” Yoshiki interrupted with a quick yelp, trying to block out Hikaru’s poor-timed jokes with his loud voice.
“Alright, alright! Sorry, Yoshiki!” Hikaru chuckled silently, his eyes still watching the old carousel move with loud music and the crunch of rusted gears moving against one another.
The carousel continued its rhythmic, nauseating rotation under the sickly yellow glare of the floodlights.
Yoshiki’s eyes remained wide, frozen in place as he gripped onto Hikaru's arm like a lifeline.
His flashlight beam flickered violently against the moving wooden horses, cutting through the thick layer of dust kicking up into the air.
Suddenly, the beam of his light passed over the small, glass-windowed control booth in the center of the carousel ride.
Yoshiki's breath hitched entirely, his jaw locking up so hard his teeth ached.
Inside the dark booth, a tall, distorted human silhouette slowly moved across the glass window.It wasn't a trick of the flashing yellow lights.
The shadow was pacing deliberately, its outline sharp against the glowing dials of the control panel inside.
"Hikaru," Yoshiki managed to gasp out, his voice a strained, breathless whisper that barely carried over the distorted circus music.
"Look... Look inside the booth. Someone's in there."
Hikaru slowly tilted the selfie stick, his jaw dropping slightly as he panned the phone camera toward the glass window.
His usual quiet chuckles completely died out, his red pupils dilating as he stared intensely at the pacing shadow.
"What the..." Hikaru muttered, his voice cracking with genuine, unscripted discomfort.
"Hey... Yoshi, I don't think that's an animatronic."
Instinctively, both of them took a synchronized, clumsy step backward, desperate to get away from the glaring carousel.
But because they were moving blindly, Hikaru’s elbow smashed hard into the wooden side of an old carnival game booth right next to the path.
The impact jarred a heavy, rusted mechanism hidden beneath the counter.
A sudden, loud screech of metal grinding against metal exploded right beside their ears.
From the shadows of the game booth, a life-sized, moldy animatronic clown violently jerked forward on a spring-loaded track.
Its jaw dropped open, revealing a row of yellowed, peg-like teeth as its faded red eyes snapped open.
The clown’s internal speaker crackled to life with a blast of static, letting out a loud, glitchy, and deeply distorted mechanical laugh.
"HA-HA-HA-HA-hA-h-hA—"
The audio looped rapidly, sounding more like a dying engine screaming than a laugh.
Hikaru’s calm exterior shattered into absolute atoms for the second time tonight.
"OHMYGODWHATTHEFUCK!" Hikaru shrieked at the top of his lungs, his voice hitting a high-pitched note of pure, unadulterated panic.
He jumped back, quickly falling onto his ass and completely losing his grip on the selfie stick as he scrambled wildly backward.
The plastic stick clattered onto the asphalt, the phone spinning around to capture a dizzying blur of flashing yellow lights and the moldy clown's face.
Yoshiki let out his own high-pitched squeak at the sudden jump scare, his hands flying out of his pockets as he stumbled over his own boots.
Hikaru quickly stood up on his feet, snatching the selfie stick with a few clumsy attempts as his hands shook uncontrollably as Yoshiki crashed right into his chest, the two of them turning into a tangled, panicking mess of limbs in the middle of the midway.
"RUN! YOSHIKI, RUN!" Hikaru screamed, grabbing the back of Yoshiki’s jacket and violently hauling him up as he bolted toward the rusted fence.
Yoshiki didn't need to be told twice.
His stomach was churning in violent waves of nausea, but the sheer adrenaline completely overrode his physical pain.
He scrambled onto his feet, sprinting full speed down the yellow-lit asphalt, a frantic two paces ahead of a thoroughly terrified, white-haired horror vlogger.
They sprinted blindly down the yellow-lit midway, the distorted circus music and the glitching clown's laughter fading slightly behind them.
Yoshiki didn't look back once.His boots pounded aggressively against the cracked asphalt, his lungs burning from the cold night air.
His mind was a complete blur of racing, panicked thoughts.
I'm never doing this again.
Hikaru is a lunatic.
If my stomach ruptures out here, I am suing everyone.
“If I see a raccoon? Yeah, I’m suing it too,” Yoshiki quietly murmured to himself unconsciously.
Ahead of them, the torn gap in the rusted chain-link fence finally came into view under the moonlight.
Yoshiki dove through the opening first, scraping his jacket against the sharp metal wires but completely ignoring the sting.
Hikaru tumbled out right behind him a second later, dragging his cheap plastic selfie stick along the dirt.
The moment they were completely out of the perimeter, they both collapsed onto the damp grass of the forest trail.
Hikaru bent over completely, resting his elbows on his knees as he panted loudly, his chest heaving under his jacket.
His snow-white hair was a wild, messy bird's nest, and his hands were still visibly trembling against the handle of his phone.
Yoshiki leaned his back against a nearby tree trunk, slowly sliding down until he was sitting in the dirt.
He instantly pressed his left hand flat against his tight, churning abdomen, his breathing shallow and rapid.
He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the painful knots in his stomach to finally settle in the quiet of the woods, suppressing the urge to start dry heaving.
For a full minute, the only sound between them was the loud, synchronized noise of their heavy panting.
Once the adrenaline finally started to drain from his system, Yoshiki blinked his eyes open, his glare landing directly on the white-haired boy.
"So," Yoshiki rasped, his voice cracking from all the shouting over the music.
"A serial killer, huh?"
Hikaru slowly lifted his head, his face still flushed a bright crimson from pure embarrassment and exhaustion.
He let out a small, miserable whine, weakly lifting the selfie stick to point the camera at his own face.
"Shut up, Yoshi," Hikaru pouted dramatically into the lens, his previous fearless vlogger confidence entirely ruined.
"That clown was a biological weapon. The stench—the sight even... It doesn't count."
Yoshiki let out a sharp chuckle, wiping a layer of cold sweat from his forehead.
"You fell on your ass, Hikaru. On camera."
Hikaru let out a louder, whiny groan, dropping his head back into his hands.
"Nooooo! The viewers are going to make so many edits of that! Bugs! Clowns—what’s next!? Why are they coming after meee!" Hikaru playfully cried into his hands.
Yoshiki's grin widened with sweet, malicious satisfaction as he stared at the dramatic sight in front of him.
"Because karma loves you. It can’t be without you," Yoshiki sneered softly.
Hikaru rolled his eyes, chuckling quietly as his breathing finally calmed.
“Phew! That was one hell of a... carousel...” Hikaru smirked, glancing over at Yoshiki, whose face was stupified in playful disgust.
“Ew... Don’t start doing those kinds of “jokes.” That’s stupid,” Yoshiki sighed out ragged in disappointment, earning loud giggles from Hikaru.
“Hey! My jokes are top-tier, Yoshi! You’re just a hater!” Hikaru huffed happily, his grin fully returning to his face.
“I’ll gladly be your hater any day, every day,” Yoshiki deadpanned, folding his arms half content and half annoyed.
“I’lL gLaDlY bE yOuR hAtEr AnY dAy, EvErY dAy,” Hikaru mocked Yoshiki in a higher pitched voice, repeating his words.
Afterwards, he lifted the selfie stick one last time, aiming it directly between them to capture Yoshiki’s rolling eyes and his own messy, white-haired smirk.
“Alright, Ghostfacers! That’s a wrap on Whistling Pines! Go ahead and hit that subscribe button, and don't forget to bully Yoshiki in the comments for using me as a human shield again!”
“You literally fell on your ass! You wouldn’t even make a useful shield!” Yoshiki shouted back, leaning forward to swat at the camera in annoyance.
“Okay, bye Ghostfacers! See ya!” Hikaru interrupted with a loud giggle, quickly tapping the screen to end the recording before Yoshiki could punch his shoulder on camera.