October always meant one thing to your friend group—haunted houses. And this year was no exception. The line stretched around the block, the air crisp with fall chill, the faint scent of kettle corn and fog machines drifting from inside. You tried to act like you weren’t nervous, but your stomach twisted with every muffled scream that escaped from the dark building.

Sunghoon stood a little behind you, hands shoved in his pockets, his usual calm expression giving nothing away. He looked unfairly good under the orange glow of string lights, black hoodie pulled tight around his frame, breath visible in the night air.

When the doors finally opened, your group shuffled in. The moment the lights cut out and a shrill scream echoed from the corner, your hand instinctively shot out—grabbing onto the nearest solid thing. Which just so happened to be Sunghoon’s arm.

He glanced down, surprise flickering across his face, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted slightly closer, letting you cling tighter as something growled from the shadows.

“Scared already?” He asked quietly, his tone teasing but not unkind.