Chapter Text
They stepped off the main path, their sneakers crunching quietly against the dead leaves and overgrown weeds choking the side of the massive hospital building.
The glowing green night-vision screen of Hikaru's phone illuminated the damp concrete foundation as he searched for the tip from the comments.
Suddenly, the flashlight beam landed on a low, recessed rectangular opening in the concrete wall–a heavy iron window frame, its glass entirely smashed out, leading straight into the pitch-black basement.
A faded, rusting sign painted on the brick directly above it read: MORGUE RECEIVING / SERVICE EXIT.
Yoshiki stared down at the dark, hollow opening, his breath instantly hitching as his stomach gave a sudden, violently painful twist.
A wave of cold, sharp nausea washed over him so fast his knees buckled slightly, forcing him to take a fast step back.
His jaw locked tight, and his trembling hand flew into his jacket pocket, his knuckles turning pure white as he frantically squeezed his plastic pill bottle.
It hurts.
It's way worse than past weekends.
If I throw up inside a literal morgue window, I am going to die and take Hikaru with me.
The bubbly, high-pitched hum instantly died in his throat as his red pupils darted over to Yoshiki’s rigid posture, and his ghostly pale face.
Without a single word, Hikaru shortened the selfie stick and stuffed it into his jacket before stepping closer until he was standing just inches away from Yoshiki in the freezing night air.
He reached out, his hand surprisingly gentle as he wrapped his long, pale fingers firmly around Yoshiki’s trembling wrist, pulling his hand away from his pocket.
"Hey," Hikaru murmured softly, his voice dropping into that deep, quiet, and unscripted tone from the bedroom.
"Your breathing is too fast, Yoshi. Is your stomach hurting again?"
Yoshiki swallowed dryly, his heart giving a heavy, sudden thump against his ribs that had absolutely nothing to do with the creepy hospital.
He tried to pull his wrist away, but Hikaru’s grip was steady and solid, acting as a warm. Heavy weight against the cold night.
"I'm... I'm fine," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his face instantly flushing a soft pink despite how freezing his skin felt.
"It's just the mold. The air here is... disgusting, to say the least."
Hikaru stared intensely into Yoshiki's wide eyes for a few quiet, agonizingly long seconds, his dilated red pupils searching his face with a heavy, unreadable stillness.
Slowly, Hikaru reached into his own jacket’s pocket, pulling out a small, crinkled plastic bottle of water he must’ve grabbed from his kitchen before they left.
He unscrewed the cap and pushed the bottle into Yoshiki’s numb fingers.
"Take your medicine first," Hikaru whispered, his voice incredibly soft as he leaned in slightly.
"I'm not letting you walk around while you're sick. C’mon, let's sit down somewhere without shattered glass. Atleast until your medication kicks in. The video can wait, we’re on an unlimited time schedule."
Hikaru looked around the dark perimeter of the building, spotting a relatively clean concrete ledge a few feet away from the shattered glass.
He gently guided Yoshiki over by the wrist, waiting until Yoshiki sat down heavily before sliding onto the cold stone directly beside him.
Yoshiki popped two of his pills into his mouth, tilting his head back to take a long, desperate gulp of the water Hikaru had provided.
The freezing night wind whipped aggressively around them, and Yoshiki couldn't help but shiver violently, his shoulders trembling as his rapid, sporadic thoughts began to blur together.
It's freezing.
My hands are completely numb.
Why is he still sitting so close to me?
I can only focus on the solid warmth of his leg pressing against mine...
Hikaru didn't look back at his phone, and he didn't check the green night-vision lens strapped to his chest.
He kept his dilated red pupils fixed entirely on Yoshiki’s pale, shivering frame.
Slowly, deliberately, Hikaru reached out and slid his long, pale hands over the concrete, gently lifting Yoshiki’s numb, freezing fingers into his own palms.
He clasped his hands entirely around Yoshiki’s, folding his long fingers over them to completely shield them from the icy mountain wind.
Yoshiki’s entire brain instantly short-circuited into a violent, screaming panic that had absolutely nothing to do with his sensitive stomach.
His heart gave a massive, suffocating thud against his ribs, his wide, intense eyes snapping up to look at his friend.
He's holding my hands.
He's actually holding them...
His hands are warm.
Really warm.
Like my hands are pressed up against a heater.
"You're shaking, Yoshi," Hikaru whispered softly, his voice dropping into that deep, quiet murmur that sent a tiny shiver down Yoshiki’s spine.
He gently squeezed Yoshiki’s trapped fingers, using his palms to rub a sudden, intense warmth back into his freezing skin.
"I told you... I'm a human heater. If you’re cold, you can just tell me. Just... Let me warm you up until the medicine kicks in. Please?"
Yoshiki’s entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson under the moonlight, his throat tightening so much he couldn't even manage a deadpan remark.
He didn't pull his hands away.
He let his fingers remain completely melted inside Hikaru's steady grip, as he kept his eyes on their intertwined hands.
And soon, his stomach knots gradually began to soothe under the comforting weight of his best friend's attention.
They sat in the quiet dark for several long minutes, the only sound being the distant howl of the freezing mountain wind.
Eventually, the stiff numbness finally began to melt away, the steady friction from Hikaru's palms successfully rubbing a burning warmth right back into Yoshiki's skin.
Despite his fingers finally warming up under the hold, Yoshiki's frame was still visibly trembling, his shoulders giving small, uncontrollable jerks as his stomach knots refused to loosen up just yet.
Hikaru’s red pupils tracked every single shudder, his brows pulling together in a heavy, uncharacteristic frown as he observed his friend's sickly pale face.
He couldn't differ between the lingering chills from the freezing wind and the sharp, agonizing waves of nausea currently twisting Yoshiki's gut.
Gently, Hikaru let go of their intertwined hands, the sudden loss of contact leaving Yoshiki's fingers feeling instantly empty.
Before Yoshiki could even think to question it, Hikaru reached up and aggressively unzipped his own thick, heavy winter jacket.
He shrugged his shoulders out of the sleeves, leaving himself in just a thin black long-sleeve shirt underneath, completely exposed to the freezing night air.
"Hikaru, what the hell are you doing?" Yoshiki rasped quietly, his voice cracking slightly as his wide eyes stared in utter bewilderment.
"You're going to freeze your ass off. Put your jacket back on."
Hikaru didn't listen to a single word, completely ignoring the complaint as he leaned in close, his face just inches away from Yoshiki's bangs.
He lifted the heavy fabric and carefully draped it over Yoshiki’s trembling shoulders, pulling the collar tight around his neck to trap the remaining body heat inside.
"You still look freezing, Yoshi," Hikaru whispered softly, his voice dropping into that deep, unscripted drone that made Yoshiki's chest flutter violently.
He reached forward, his long fingers gently smoothing down the shoulders of the jacket over Yoshiki's frame, ensuring he was completely bundled up.
"My jacket is way thicker than your hoodie. It retains heat much better. Just wear it for me, alright? I'm fine."
Yoshiki’s entire brain completely short-circuited into a violent loop of rapid-fired thoughts.
He's literally sitting in the freezing cold in a thin shirt just so I don't shiver.
It smells so strongly of him.
Like laundry detergent and cold air.
It's warm.
Way too warm.
"Don't look at me like that, Yoshi," Hikaru murmured quietly, a tiny, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips as he noticed Yoshiki's soft eyes.
He leaned in just a fraction closer, his dilated red pupils catching the faint moonlight through the trees.
"You always forget..."
"Forget what?" Yoshiki rasped out, his throat incredibly dry as he gripped the heavy collar of the jacket.
"I don't get cold," Hikaru whispered, his voice soft and completely relaxed.
"Not unless I choose to. So there's absolutely nothing for you to worry about."
A sudden wave of mild embarrassment hit Yoshiki, cutting right through his racing thoughts.
Right.
Of course.
How did I completely forget that?
Hikaru has always had way more control over his physical body, more so than any regular human.
He’s been like that since we were kids.
He’s technically the “ghosts” or “demons” we’ve been looking for.
He had been so hopelessly distracted by the feeling of Hikaru holding his hands–and the proximity of their faces–that his brain had completely dropped the fact about his best friend.
The reminder didn't disturb him; it just made him more embarrassed about the closeness between them.
Yoshiki quickly averted his gaze back down to his lap, his knuckles turning pure white as he clutched the oversized cuffs of the sleeves, hiding his flaming red face behind his bangs.
"Right... Whatever, moron," Yoshiki muttered under his breath, trying to force his voice into a tough-guy deadpan.
"I knew that. I just... wasn't thinking. Just let me know when you want it back."
Hikaru just let out a series of soft, breezy giggles, clearly delighted by how embarrassed Yoshiki was by the series of things he had said and done.
They sat in silence for another minute, Yoshiki let the heavy jacket completely trap his body heat until his shivering finally slowed down to a gentle stop.
The two pills he had swallowed were finally starting to do their job, the surrounding warmth from the warm jacket also soothed the intense, agonizing knots in his abdomen slowly relaxing into a dull, manageable ache.
"Alright," Yoshiki rasped quietly, clearing his throat as he forced his feet to stand up onto the damp ground.
"I'm not sick anymore... Let's just do this before we get spotted by someone."
Hikaru stood up right after him, his long-sleeve shirt completely unbothered by the icy wind as he reached into his jacket’s pocket, that same jacket that was on Yoshiki.
Yoshiki immediately froze, his arms stiffening as his mind began panicking at the feeling of his best friend’s hands so close to his stomach in this way.
He swiftly took the selfie stick and his phone from his jacket’s pocket, mounting his phone before tapping the screen to bring up the green night-vision filter before he extended his cheap plastic selfie stick with a sharp, fluid click.
The bright, radioactive glow instantly washed over their faces, cutting through the shadows near the low concrete foundation.
Hikaru threw on his signature, cheerful toothy grin, lifting a hand to flash a quick peace sign to the lens as his normal bubbly voice exploded back into the quiet air.
"What's up, Ghostfacers! We are back and officially moving in on our fourth location—St. Jude’s Asylum Complex!" Hikaru whispered loudly into the microphone.
"My lovely companion Yoshiki is currently wearing my winter jacket because he claimed it 'smells nice,' but alas, YouTube waits for no one!"
"I did not say that!" Yoshiki snapped in a sharp, quiet yelp, his face violently erupting into a burning crimson all over again as he glared at the camera.
He's a menace.
A literal, content-hungry menace.
If Maki hears that line, I am legally changing my name and moving to a different country.
Hikaru just let out quiet, airy giggles, completely ignoring the protest as he crouched down low in front of the recessed iron window frame.
He aimed his flashlight beam straight down into the black abyss of the service exit, the green night-vision screen showing a steep, decaying concrete drop leading into the pitch-black basement.
"Alright, viewers, the morgue entrance is wide open," Hikaru murmured into the mic, his eyes crinkling with absolute excitement.
"I'm dropping down first to clear out any ghouls. Wish me luck!"
Hikaru didn't hesitate, turning his body around and carefully sliding his legs through the narrow concrete gap, dropping into the absolute darkness below with a heavy, muffled thud.
Yoshiki stood outside alone for a single, frantic second, his white-knuckled grip tightening around his flashlight as his thoughts flared right back up.
Don't leave me out here.
It's too dark.
I don't want to step through a morgue window, but I definitely don't want to be separated from him.
"Yoshi, the coast is clear!" Hikaru’s muffled, soft voice echoed up from the concrete abyss, entirely lacking his vlogger persona for a brief second.
"Come on down. I'll catch you."
Yoshiki approached the narrow, concrete edge of the window frame, turning his body around to slip his legs through the gap.
He moved with an incredibly cautious slowness, balancing his weight precariously against the rough ledge as he lowered his sneakers into the black abyss.
He didn't want to slip and slice his legs open on any remaining shards of shattered glass left in the iron tracks.
Down below, Hikaru stood in the darkness, watching Yoshiki's careful, hesitant movements through the glowing green tint of the phone screen.
Although Hikaru secretly enjoyed seeing Yoshiki struggle in front of him, he was quickly getting impatient with how long the process was taking.
Hikaru put the selfie stick to his down onto the floor, ensuring that it was still capturing them before stepping forward right into the direct drop-zone beneath the low window frame.
Without a single word of warning, Hikaru reached straight up, wrapping his long, pale hands firmly around Yoshiki’s waist.
His grip was incredibly solid and unyielding, clamping through the fabric of the heavy winter jacket and anchoring Yoshiki's hips in a tight, protective hold.
Yoshiki’s entire body completely froze up, his breath violently hitching in his throat as his brain short-circuited into an immediate, screaming panic.
His hands.
He's grabbing my waist.
He's holding me so tight.
Oh my god, I can feel the exact shape of his fingers pressing into my sides through the fabric.
This is Heaven and Hell.
Bliss and torture.
Before Yoshiki could even utter a single yelp of protest, Hikaru effortlessly lifted him off the concrete ledge, hauling his weight downward with a smooth, fluid strength.
He brought Yoshiki down slowly and deliberately, ensuring his boots guided away from the wall until they made a soft, muffled contact with the damp concrete floor of the basement.
Even after Yoshiki’s sneakers were planted completely flat on the solid ground, Hikaru didn't instantly let go.
He kept his hands firmly locked around Yoshiki's waist for two agonizingly long seconds, his chest pressing lightly against Yoshiki's shoulder in the cramped darkness.
In the suffocating, heavy silence of the hospital basement, Yoshiki could hear nothing but the frantic, hammering rhythm of his own heart racing against his ribs.
He stood perfectly rigid, his face violently burning a dark crimson that was completely hidden by the pitch-black shadows around them.
“I-I didn’t say I needed help...” Yoshiki muttered barely above a whisper, trying to shake off Hikaru’s hands as he grabbed one of Hikaru’s wrists with shaky looseness.
Hikaru let out a very small, soft giggle right against the shell of Yoshiki's ear, a warm breath that sent a massive shiver straight down Yoshiki's spine.
Slowly, Hikaru relaxed his fingers and let his hands slide away from Yoshiki’s waist, though he didn't step back even an inch.
"I know, Yoshi," Hikaru whispered back into the darkness, his voice dropping into a soft gentleness.
"But you were taking too long. And I already told you... I'm not letting you get hurt on my watch."
Yoshiki quickly dropped his hand from Hikaru's wrist, aggressively shoving both of his fists deep into the pockets of the winter jacket to hide how much his fingers were trembling.
He forced a sharp, frustrated breath through his nose, his heart hammering violently against his ribs as his rapid, sporadic thoughts flared right back up.
He's still standing too close.
The air here is completely freezing but my face feels like it's inside an oven.
I need a distraction before I lose my mind...
"Whatever, moron," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his voice cracking slightly in a desperate attempt to force his usual tough-guy deadpan.
"Pick up the camera already. We're on a schedule, remember?"
Hikaru chuckled softly, his familiar, bubbly self smoothly sliding right back over his face as he knelt down and scooped the selfie stick up from the dusty, grimy concrete floor.
He extended the cheap plastic selfie stick with a loud click, flipping the lens around so the glowing, radioactive green night-vision screen illuminated the pitch-black space around them.
"Aaaaand we are officially inside the belly of the beast, Ghostfacers!" Hikaru whispered loudly into the microphone, flashing his toothy grin.
"As you can see, Yoshiki is completely safe, all thanks to me. Buuut he's already back to calling me names. So mean, Yoshi!"
Hikaru smoothly panned the selfie stick to the left, directing his flashlight beam to cut through the heavy, stale darkness of the asylum basement.
The bright beam illuminated a row of massive, stainless-steel drawers built directly into the concrete wall–the doors completely rusted shut and peeling with green, oxidized metal.
Right in front of the drawers lay a heavy, old medical gurney, tilted completely on its side with its leather straps rotting away in the damp air.
Yoshiki’s jaw locked tight, his wide, intense eyes staring at the rusted metal as an icy, suffocating chill shot straight down his spine.
The green night-vision screen perfectly captured the stark, eerie silhouette of the old hospital morgue.
They stepped out of the freezing morgue room and navigated their way up a set of rotting concrete stairs, entering the main floor of the asylum complex.
The endless corridor stretched out ahead of them into the absolute darkness, lined with rows of heavy wooden doors and peeling green paint.
Hikaru held the selfie stick high, the glowing radioactive green night-vision screen casting long, dancing shadows across the clinical walls.
Yoshiki walked close behind him, his hands still shoved deep into the pockets of Hikaru's heavy jacket as they navigated the debris-littered floor.
"Hikaru, lower your voice," Yoshiki hissed in a sharp, quiet whisper, his wide eyes darting to a dark doorway on their right.
"Every single word you say is literally echoing down the entire hallway. You're going to wake up the dead."
Hikaru didn't lower the camera, a soft, breezy giggle escaping his chest as he turned his face slightly back toward Yoshiki.
"Aw, come on, Yoshi, the viewers love the echo," Hikaru whispered back playfully, his red pupils crinkling at the corners.
"It adds to the clinical ambiance. Besides, if a ghost hears us bickering, maybe it'll feel bad for me and leave us a comment."
"I hope it eats your phone," Yoshiki grumbled under his breath, a small, fond smile briefly fighting to break through his tough deadpan.
He forced his jaw to lock tight again, trying to ignore the sudden, fluttering warmth in his chest as his elbow lightly brushed against Hikaru's arm in the narrow hallway.
Don't lean in.
Stay three paces back.
He's just trying to get content.
You need to focus on not tripping over rusted medical gurneys.
"Look at this room, Ghostfacers," Hikaru murmured into the microphone, smoothly panning the lens through a shattered glass viewing window.
Inside the old patient room, a rusted metal bed frame stood completely bare, surrounded by decaying medical files scattered across the floor like dead leaves.
Yoshiki took a slow, shallow breath, his sensitive stomach giving a tiny, warning pinch as the heavy, stale smell of medicine and old dust hit his nose, quickly sneezing at the dust-polluted air.
He subconsciously tightened his white-knuckled grip on the hem of Hikaru’s jacket, his dread-filled thoughts flaring right back up.
It's too quiet now.
The music at the amusement park was loud, but this silence is heavy.
It feels like the building is breathing around us.
"Hey, look at that sign," Hikaru whispered suddenly, interrupting Yoshiki's internal panic as he aimed his flashlight beam down a connecting corridor.
A faded, rusting arrow painted on the wall pointed down a pitch-black staircase: HYDROTHERAPY / ISOLATION WARDS.
"That sounds incredibly promising," Hikaru hummed happily, his face splitting into a wide, thoroughly wicked grin.
“Ugh... I wouldn’t even wish this fate on you,” Yoshiki murmured quietly, shivering at the thought of all the crazy people that were stuck here.
Hikaru stopped walking right at the top of the pitch-black staircase, the heavy click of his sneakers suddenly cutting off.
He didn't immediately lower the selfie stick, but he tilted the screen slightly away from his own face, panning the lens back around to capture Yoshiki’s rigid posture.
Through the glowing radioactive green night-vision filter, Hikaru’s red pupils searched Yoshiki’s face for a few quiet, unblinking seconds.
The wide, thoroughly wicked grin completely faded from his lips, replaced by an uncharacteristic, soft gentleness.
"Hey," Hikaru whispered quietly into the microphone, his voice dropping into that deep, unscripted drone that always made Yoshiki's heart race.
"Yoshi, look at me for a second."
Yoshiki blinked, his wide, intense eyes snapping up from the rusted arrow on the wall to look directly into the camera lens, and then at Hikaru.
"Your hand is shaking on my jacket hem," Hikaru murmured softly, completely unbothered that the camera was catching his sudden shift in tone.
"Is your stomach acting up again? Did the pills not work?"
Yoshiki’s entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson that stood out starkly even through the green filter of the phone screen.
His jaw locked tight, his knuckles turning pure white as he awkwardly let go of the fabric of Hikaru's heavy winter coat.
He's doing it on camera.
He's asking me that right in front of the camera.
Oh my god...
I know Hikaru isn’t going to remove this part of the video either...
The comments are going to absolutely lose their minds over this.
"I-I'm fine, you idiot," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his voice cracking sharp in pure, trembling embarrassment as he aggressively shoved his hands back into the heavy pockets.
"Its just the dust. Stop asking me that on camera."
Hikaru didn't let out a loud, breezy giggle, and he didn't mock Yoshiki's stutter.
He leaned in a fraction closer, his face just inches away from Yoshiki's bangs as he reached out with his free hand, his pale fingers gently brushing against Yoshiki’s forehead to check for cold sweat.
"You're lying, Yoshiki," Hikaru whispered back with a tiny, incredibly soft pout that sent a massive shiver straight down Yoshiki’s spine.
"You're still shivering. If your stomach hurts, we can just sit on the stairs for a bit. The Isolation Wards aren't going anywhere."
Yoshiki stared blankly at him, his chest heaving as his chaotic thoughts completely short-circuited into blissful torture.
He's too close.
He's way too close.
Why is he being so nice to me on camera?
Maki isn’t going to let this go if he sees this...
"Whatever... Just... keep walking already, idiot," Yoshiki muttered under his breath, forcefully turning his face to the side as he pushed Hikaru’s hand away with his own.
Hikaru let out a very quiet, airy giggle as his hand was pushed away, his usual playfulness sliding smoothly right back onto his face.
He turned back around, lifting the selfie stick high as he took the first step down into the pitch-black abyss of the staircase.
"Alright, Ghostfacers! Squeaky emo has given the order to march forward!" Hikaru whispered cheerfully into the microphone.
"We are officially heading down into the Isolation Wards. Drop a comment if you think Yoshiki is just being a tsundere!"
"Shut up and walk!" Yoshiki hissed aggressively, his voice cracking from a volatile mixture of lingering adrenaline and intense embarrassment.
He forced his sneakers to move, following closely behind the white-haired boy as they descended deeper into the still, chill air of the basement floor.
The air at the bottom of the stairs felt incredibly thick, smelling heavily of wet concrete, stagnant water, and centuries of undisturbed decay.
Hikaru smoothly panned the lens to the left, the glowing radioactive green night-vision screen illuminating a massive, open room lined with large porcelain bathtubs.
The old hydrotherapy tubs were completely cracked and stained with dark mold, their heavy canvas straps rotting away onto the tiled floor.
Yoshiki felt an icy, suffocating chill shoot straight down his spine, his jaw locking up tightly as his eyes darted from tub to tub.
This is disgusting.
This is literally where they used to lock people up in freezing water.
I want to get out of this room right now.
Suddenly, the heavy metal door at the far end of the ward let out a sharp, echoing creak.
Before either of them could even utter a single gasp, the rusted door violently slammed shut with a deafening metallic bang.
The massive sound echoed like a gunshot down the narrow concrete corridors, plunging the entire room into a dead, suffocating silence.
Before Yoshiki could even process what his body was doing, he lunged forward in the dark.
He threw both of his arms firmly around Hikaru’s right arm, locking his fingers together as he flattened his chest flat against his best friend's side.
His breath hitching violently as he buried his face straight into the shoulder of Hikaru's thin long-sleeve shirt.
The solid, warm, and completely unmoving weight of Hikaru’s body was the only thing keeping his hammering heart from leaping straight out of his chest.
"Can we get out of the hydrotherapy room..." Yoshiki muttered, his voice barely a quiet, trembling whisper against the fabric of Hikaru's shirt.
"This is incredibly disturbing... Please?"
Hikaru stood perfectly still in the pitch-black darkness of the basement ward, the heavy door slam echoing away into nothingness.
He didn't immediately jerk his arm back, and he didn't lift the selfie stick to catch the panic on Yoshiki's face for the camera.
Hikaru stared silently down at Yoshiki for a few quiet, agonizingly long moments.
Through the thin fabric of his long-sleeve shirt, Hikaru could feel the violent, rhythmic trembling of Yoshiki's body.
He felt the intense, white-knuckled warmth of Yoshiki's arms wrapped completely around his own, anchoring their bodies together in the narrow, freezing space.
A sudden unreadable stillness washed over Hikaru's face as his dilated red pupils fixed unblinkingly on the black hair pressed against his shoulder.
Then, he blinked quickly, his chest rising as a small, slightly nervous chuckle escaped his lips.
"Ah... Hehe, well, the door closed behind us, so I guess we have no choice but to find a detour, Yoshi," Hikaru murmured quietly.
His voice was incredibly soft, containing a tiny, playful tease that felt slightly forced, as if he were trying to shake off the weight of the sudden physical intimacy.
"But you're squeezing my arm so hard I think you're going to break it. You're stronger than you look, nerd.”
Yoshiki’s brain instantly short-circuited into a violent panic that had absolutely nothing to do with the heavy metal door.
His face violently burned a blazing crimson that was practically swallowed by the shadows of the basement.
Realizing he was practically glued to Hikaru's side like a terrified child, Yoshiki rapidly ripped his arms away as if he’d been burned.
He took a massive, clumsy step backward, quickly shoving his trembling hands back into the heavy jacket pockets as they turned into tight fists.
"Shut up, jackass," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his throat tightening as he tried to force his expression into a flat deadpan.
"I was just... making sure you didn't run away and leave me down here. That's all."
"Hehe, I would never leave my hero behind," Hikaru giggled softly before his familiar, bubbly-self came back.
He lifted the selfie stick high again, the glowing radioactive green night-vision screen illuminating their flustered, tense silhouettes.
"Alright, Ghostfacers! The main entrance is blocked, so we are going to navigate the back corridors of the isolation ward to find an alternate exit!"
Hikaru turned around and began walking down the narrow concrete hallway with his usual relaxed stride, his flashlight beam cutting through the dense dust.
Yoshiki followed close behind, his boots scraping quietly against the concrete, keeping a distance of exactly three paces behind the chaotic idiot he calls his best friend.
They walked down the twisting, narrow corridors of the isolation ward, the heavy silence only broken by the quiet squeaking of their shoes.
Yoshiki found himself unconsciously closing the gap between them, narrowing his usual three-pace rule until he was walking just a single step behind the white-haired boy.
The air down here was suffocatingly heavy, and his thoughts kept spinning in chaotic webs.
We just need to find an exit and get out.
The walls look like they’re closing in on us.
My face is still hot.
Everything is too much...
He kept his wide, intense eyes fixed entirely on the back of Hikaru's messy white hair, using his friend's presence to anchor his hyperventilating chest.
Suddenly, right as they passed a dark, open padded cell, the freezing air behind Yoshiki violently shifted.
Before he could even register a sound, a heavy, solid force slammed directly into the center of his shoulder blades, shoving him forward with an aggressive, terrifying strength.
Yoshiki let out a genuine, high-pitched, and completely startled yelp as his balance vanished entirely.
He stumbled wildly across the debris-littered floor, his sneakers losing traction as he plummeted face-first toward the concrete.
Instinctively, his hands flew out of the winter jacket pockets, and he crashed heavily right into Hikaru’s back.
The impact jarred them both, the selfie stick jerking violently in Hikaru’s hand as the phone camera whipped around in a green, dizzying blur.
Yoshiki’s arms immediately wrapped tightly around Hikaru’s torso from behind to keep himself from hitting the floor, his fingers digging into the thin black fabric of Hikaru's shirt.
He buried his face straight into the space between Hikaru's shoulder blades, his chest heaving as pure, unadulterated terror flooded his system.Someone pushed me.
Something actually pushed me.
There was no one behind us.
There was absolutely no one behind us.
Hikaru stood perfectly rigid, his sneakers completely locking against the concrete as he absorbed the full weight of Yoshiki’s body against his spine.
The phone screen, tilted upward against the wall, perfectly captured the heavy, echoing sound of Yoshiki's frantic hyperventilation in the pitch black.
Hikaru didn't drop the selfie stick, but his knuckles were visibly turning a stark white against the handle as he held it steady.
For three agonizingly long seconds, neither of them moved an inch, the physical contact between them feeling incredibly loud in the dead silence of the asylum.
Yoshiki could feel the unyielding, solid structure of Hikaru’s back under his hands, his face burning crimson against the fabric of his shirt despite the absolute terror in his veins.
"Y-Yoshi..." Hikaru finally whispered, his voice incredibly small, flat, and completely devoid of his usual playful confidence.
He didn't turn his head around, his red pupils wide and dilated as he stared straight down the empty hallway.
"You... You jumped into me pretty hard there. Did you trip on a pipe or something?"
"No," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his voice trembling sharply with a raw, breathless panic as his grip tightened on Hikaru's waist.
"No, Hikaru... Something... something shoved me from behind."
Hikaru didn't move for another two agonizingly quiet seconds, the weight of Yoshiki's arms wrapped tightly around his waist anchoring him to the spot.
Slowly, the rigid stiffness in his shoulders faded, and he let out a loud, slightly high-pitched, and incredibly nervous laugh that echoed sharply down the corridor.
He tilted his head back just enough to look at Yoshiki out of the corner of his eye, his dilated red pupils catching the glowing green night-vision filter.
"A-Ahah, very funny, Yoshi," Hikaru murmured quietly, his voice carrying a small, unmistakable tremor that completely gave away his discomfort.
"You're totally joking, right? You almost knocked me flat onto my face."
"I am not joking," Yoshiki hissed back in a breathless, trembling rasp, his fingers clutching the thin fabric of Hikaru's shirt even tighter.
"Hikaru, I am entirely serious. Something hit my shoulders."
Hikaru swallowed dryly, his thumb visibly shaking against the handle of the selfie stick before he forcefully whipped the camera around to face them both.
His signature, cheerful toothy grin smoothly slid right back onto his face, completely bright and energetic for the lens despite the cold sweat on his neck.
"Did you hear that, Ghostfacers?!" Hikaru whispered loudly into the microphone, his eyes crinkling with a forced, playful cheerfulness.
"Yoshiki is currently trying to claim a hospital phantom gave him a push!"
He leaned back slightly, pressing his weight more firmly against Yoshiki’s chest as he purred mockingly right into the microphone.
"But we all know the truth! Nerdy Yoshiki just tripped over his own shoes because he wanted an excuse to give me a big, tight hug from behind!"
"I did not!" Yoshiki shouted back in a sharp, quiet yelp, his voice cracking violently in a chaotic mix of terror and sudden, intense embarrassment.
His entire face instantly flashed a violent, burning crimson that felt hot enough to melt the heavy winter jacket draped over his shoulders.
Realizing the phone camera was actively recording his desperate grip around Hikaru’s waist, a sharp panic took over, and he rapidly ripped his arms away as if he’d been burned.
He took a massive, clumsy step backward, forcefully shoving his shaking hands straight back into the deep pockets of Hikaru's coat.
"You're a moron," Yoshiki rasped quietly, his teeth grinding together as he aggressively averted his wide eyes to the concrete floor to hide his burning red face.
"Turn that thing off. I'm finding the exit by myself."
"Hehe, wait for me, Mr. Grumpy Cat!" Hikaru hummed happily, his normal bubbly self fully returned as he trotted after him, selfie stick held high.
Yoshiki marched down the narrow concrete corridor with heavy, frantic strides, refusing to look back at the lens.
His face was still burning red, and his internal monologue was a chaotic mess of lingering embarrassment and absolute dread.
I am never letting him pull a stunt like that again.
I am throwing his selfie stick into a river.
I just need to find the exit.
Hikaru trotted right behind him this time, keeping the phone raised high to capture Yoshiki’s rigid shoulders in the green night-vision glow.
He didn't stop talking for a single second, his bubbly, singsong voice echoing loudly down the empty clinical walls.
"Awwh, don't be like that, Yoshi!" Hikaru hummed happily, his red pupils sparkling with endless mischief.
"The viewers need to know the truth about your ghost-hug technique! Next time you want a cuddle from behind, you can just ask me—"
Suddenly, the freezing air behind Hikaru violently ruptured with a sharp, heavy gust of wind.
Before the final teasing word could even leave his mouth, a massive, unyielding force slammed directly into the center of Hikaru's shoulder blades.
He was shoved forward with an aggressive, terrifying strength that completely mirrored what had happened to Yoshiki just minutes prior.
Hikaru let out a quick, loud, and thoroughly terrified shriek that ripped violently down the narrow concrete hallway.
His knees buckled in pure panic, and his hand jerked so violently that the selfie stick flew completely out of his grip, clattering loudly against the grimy floorboards.
He stumbled blindly across the dark corridor, his balance failing entirely until he crashed heavily right into Yoshiki's back for the second time tonight.
His pale arms wrapped frantically around Yoshiki’s torso from behind, his fingers locking tightly over the heavy winter jacket to keep himself from plummeting face-first onto the concrete.
He buried his face straight into the space between Yoshiki's shoulder blades, his chest heaving as a cold sweat broke out all over his body.
Yoshiki gasped sharply as the sudden impact jarred his ribs, his sneakers sliding against the dust before he anchored them both to the floor.
Dead, suffocating silence instantly crashed right back down over the isolation ward.
Yoshiki stood perfectly rigid under the heavy, trembling weight of the white-haired boy clinging to his spine.
His heart gave a massive, suffocating thud against his ribs, his wide, intense eyes staring blankly down the dark hallway as his rapid thoughts flared up.
He got shoved too.
He actually got pushed from behind.
He knows I wasn't lying now.
"H-Hikaru…?" Yoshiki rasped quietly, his voice trembling sharply with a raw, breathless panic as his face flashed a violent crimson against the dark.
"Yoshiki..." Hikaru finally whispered, his voice incredibly small, flat, and completely devoid of his previous confidence.
"A-Ahah, very funny, Hikaru," Yoshiki murmured, his voice trembling sharply as he tried to force a light, mocking tone.
"You're totally joking, right? Next time you want a cuddle from behind, you can just ask me."
Hikaru let out a quick, frantic laugh that was entirely devoid of real emotion or his usual bubbly warmth.
"Hahaha, very funny. Now's not the time for jokes! What the hell was that!?" he quickly panicked, his fingers digging into the heavy winter jacket fabric.
His entire body shook violently against Yoshiki's spine, his rapid breathing echoing loudly against the concrete walls.
"We need to get out of here," Hikaru whispered frantically, his teeth practically chattering in pure, unadulterated fear.
"Yoshi, please. Move your feet. Go, go, go."
Yoshiki’s mind hit an absolute fever of rapid thoughts as the gravity of the situation fully crashed down on him.
He's actually terrified.
He's not pretending.
Whatever is in this hallway is real, and it wants us out.
"The camera," Yoshiki rasped quietly, forcing his boots to turn around as he grabbed Hikaru by the shoulders to stabilize him.
"Hikaru, where did you drop the phone? We are not leaving it behind."
Hikaru blinked quickly, his wide, dilated red pupils staring blankly down at the dark, grimy floorboards between them.
Just a few feet away, the cheap plastic selfie stick lay flat on its side, the glowing radioactive green night-vision screen casting long, eerie shadows up against the clinical walls.
The lens was still actively recording everything, capturing the stark, chaotic blur of their feet and the suffocating silence of the corridor.
Yoshiki didn't hesitate, quickly lunging forward to snatch the plastic stick off the concrete before dragging Hikaru along by the wrist.
"Run!" Yoshiki shouted over the sudden, loud creaking of the padded cell doors behind them.
“FUCKTHISFUCKTHISFUCKTHISOHMYGOD,” Hikaru wailed behind Yoshiki; it sounded like he was about to start crying.
They bolted down the narrow, twisting corridor, their sneakers squeaking frantically against the grimy concrete.
The heavy wood of the old isolation cell doors behind them began to rattle on their hinges as if a wave of air was chasing them out.
Yoshiki sprinted full speed, his white-knuckled grip on Hikaru’s wrist completely unyielding as he pulled his panicked friend along.
Ahead of them, a heavy iron exit door with a rusted crash bar finally loomed in the green night-vision glow.
Yoshiki slammed his entire body weight into the metal bar with a loud, violent crash.
The door burst open, and the two of them practically flew out of the dark building, tumbling straight into the crisp, fresh night air.
They collapsed heavily onto the damp grass of the side path, the heavy metal doors of St. Jude's swinging shut behind them with a muffled, hollow thud.
Yoshiki instantly rolled onto his back, his chest heaving violently as he sucked the cold air into his burning lungs.
His face was flushed a chaotic, burning crimson from the intense cardio and the sheer adrenaline of the physical contact.
Beside him, Hikaru was completely curled up into a ball on the grass, his knees tucked tightly against his chest as he hyperventilated.
His messy white hair was a wild, disheveled bird's nest, and he was still letting out tiny, pathetic, and thoroughly shaken whines into his sleeves.
The cheap plastic selfie stick was lying in the dirt between them, the glowing phone screen still actively recording a tilted, blurry loop of the night sky and the dark treeline.
For two full minutes, neither of them said a single word, the heavy silence of the woods only filled by the loud sound of their frantic breathing.
Once his hammering heart finally started to drop back down to a normal rhythm, Yoshiki slowly sat up, resting his elbows on his knees.
He reached over and scooped up the phone, aiming the green night-vision lens directly at the white-haired boy.
"Well, look at that," Yoshiki rasped quietly, a sharp, triumphant huff escaping his lips despite how much his own fingers were shaking.
"The fearless star leader of The New Ghostfacers just wailed like an absolute toddler on camera. I believe you called that... a piss-baby moment?"
Hikaru slowly lifted his head from his arms, his face flushed a bright, burning from pure embarrassment and lingering terror.
He pouted heavily right into the glowing green filter, his red pupils dilated as he let out a loud, dramatic, and completely miserable whine.
"Shut up, Yoshiki!" Hikaru cried out softly, his previous vlogger confidence entirely shattered into dust.
"Something literally tried to break my spine! That place is haunted!"
Yoshiki let out a rare, genuine chuckle, a sudden, fluttering warmth blooming in his chest as he stared at his dramatic best friend.
"Should’ve believed me when I told you, Ghostfacer. You got your daily dose of karma tonight," Yoshiki sneered softly, his tone dripping with sweet satisfaction as he held the phone out between them.
"Say goodbye to the viewers, jackass. I’m crashing at yours again, so hurry up."
Hikaru pouted at the screen for one last agonizingly quiet second, weakly lifting a trembling hand to flash a thoroughly defeated peace sign.
"Bye Ghostfacers..." Hikaru whined quietly into the microphone.
Yoshiki didn't wait for him to say anything else, immediately tapping the screen to end the recording, finally plunging them both into a quiet, comforting dark.