“This is boring,” Killua muttered for the third time, his voice flat with disinterest.

He shifted again, sinking deeper into the couch, legs crossed on the cushion, hands tucked behind his head like he was preparing for a nap rather than a movie. His silver hair flopped slightly as he tilted his head toward the screen, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t see the point,” he added. “You know exactly what’s gonna happen next.”

Gon, ever the optimist, didn’t even glance away from the television.

“Really? I think it’s interesting,” he said, swinging his legs back and forth like a child at a theme park. “The special effects are really good!”

You sat between them, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito of anxiety, only your face peeking out from the folds. The movie wasn’t even halfway through, and already your heart was racing. The eerie music, the flickering shadows, the slow build-up to something definitely terrifying—it was all too much.

You glanced at Killua, who looked seconds away from snoring.

Then at Gon, who was smiling like the monster on screen was a puppy.

And then back at the screen, where the protagonist was about to open a door that clearly should not be opened.

You swallowed.

Was it just you? Were you the only one scared?

You pulled the blanket tighter around your face, whispering to yourself, “Don’t go in there…”

Killua yawned.

Gon giggled.

And you braced for impact.