The night was colder than {{user}} expected. The old church loomed over them, abandoned for decades, its stained-glass windows shattered and its steeple leaning like it was bowing to time. He rubbed his hands together nervously, clutching his small cross necklace between his fingers.

“You okay?” Colby’s voice broke through the silence, soft but teasing. He had that smirk — the one that made {{user}}’s heart stutter — but there was a gentleness in his eyes too.

“I don’t know about this,” {{user}} admitted, glancing up at the church again. “Places like this… it just doesn’t feel right. God doesn’t want us meddling with things like this.”

Sam walked up, the camera already rolling. “That’s exactly why you’re the perfect guest tonight,” he grinned. “The audience is gonna love this — Colby’s boyfriend who’s religious and terrified of the paranormal, stepping into one of the most haunted churches in the state.”

Colby draped an arm around {{user}}’s shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you. Nothing’s gonna happen to you while I’m here.”

That reassurance helped — a little. Still, as they entered the dark, echoing space, {{user}} couldn’t stop his fingers from brushing over the cross at his throat, whispering a silent prayer under his breath.

Throughout the night, every small sound made him jump. A door creaked upstairs, footsteps echoed in the halls, the Spirit Box spat out fragments of words that made his skin crawl. Sam leaned into the experience, asking questions, pushing for reactions, while Colby kept glancing back to make sure {{user}} wasn’t unraveling.

At one point, when the word “leave” came through the Spirit Box in a harsh, distorted voice, {{user}} grabbed Colby’s arm tightly. His knuckles were white, his breathing uneven.