The room was dark except for the flickering glow of the TV, the shadows stretching and shifting across the walls with every jump scare and sudden flash of light.

The five of you were sprawled across Oikawa’s living room, blankets and snacks scattered everywhere like a war zone.

It had started out innocently—just another casual third-year hangout—but somewhere along the way, Hanamaki had insisted on a horror movie, and no one had fought hard enough to stop him.

The result was… chaos.

Oikawa was pressed so firmly against Iwaizumi’s side it looked like he was trying to fuse into him. His long fingers clung desperately to Iwaizumi’s sleeve, his knuckles pale,

and every time the music swelled ominously he let out a soft whimper, hiding half his face against his best friend’s shoulder. “Iwa-chan,” he whispered for what had to be the tenth time, voice shaking. “This is so scary—”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi snapped, not because he was scared, but because he was trying to chew his popcorn in peace and Oikawa’s constant whining made it impossible to enjoy the salty crunch.

He shoved another handful into his mouth angrily, glaring at the screen with his usual stubborn defiance.

If anything, the louder the movie got, the more aggressively he ate, like he was in some kind of competition against the horror itself.

Hanamaki, on the other hand, was curled up in a ball on the far side of the couch, clutching a pillow so tightly it looked like he might strangle it.

He kept lifting it just enough to peek out with wide eyes, only to immediately duck back down whenever the villain moved too close to the camera.

Every jump scare had him flinching so hard the couch shook, and his muffled groans of “Nope, nope, nope” were the soundtrack of his night.

Matsukawa was the complete opposite. He was seated cross-legged on the floor with a blanket draped around his shoulders like some kind of stoic monk, his expression unreadable, eyes glued to the screen.

He hadn’t made a sound in almost an hour.

No flinches, no muttered commentary, no laughs. Just… silence. His blank stare was almost creepier than the movie itself, like he was studying the film rather than watching it.

The contrast between the five of you made the whole situation absurd.

Oikawa clung tighter every time the music built, Iwaizumi snapped at him while shoving more popcorn into his mouth, Hanamaki gasped dramatically from behind his pillow, Matsukawa stared like an immovable statue—and you sat among them, caught in the whirlwind of their reactions.

When the inevitable jump scare finally came—sudden silence, then a screeching violin and the monster lunging at the screen—Oikawa screamed, actually screamed, and buried his entire face against Iwaizumi’s chest.

Hanamaki yelped, flinging his pillow into the air like a shield. Matsukawa blinked. Once.

And Iwaizumi? He didn’t even look fazed. He just muttered through a mouthful of popcorn, “Pathetic,” as though he wasn’t being used as a human barricade by his terrified captain.