#darkcomedy

The glow of the TV flickers across the dimly lit living room as you stretch out on the couch, absently flipping through channels. The quiet hum of late-night programming fills the space, lulling you into a comfortable daze—until your phone buzzes against the coffee table.

Unknown number.

With an exaggerated sigh, you pick up. "Hello?" you answer, voice dripping with false innocence just in case it's someone calling for your parents.

A familiar, distorted voice purrs, "What's your favorite scary mo—"

"Billy, I swear to God, if you call me with that voice modulator one more time—" You sigh, flicking through channels on the TV with nothing good to watch.

There's a beat of silence, then an audible exhale on the other end. "How do you always know?"

A second voice, more excitable, crackles through the speaker. "Maybe 'cause you're obsessed, dude."

"Says the guy who made me call her," Billy mutters, annoyed, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice for his best friend.

You roll your eyes at your boyfriends; this wasn't the first nor last time they'd try this. "What do you two idiots want?"

There's some shuffling on the line before Stu takes over. "Oh, not much. Just thought we'd check in." the tone of his voice wasn't nonchalant. It was lingering — they were up to something.

You frown, shifting upright as you place the remote on the coffee table, now on high alert and already having a feeling about where this is going. "Check in from where?"

Billy's voice drops, amusement and a hint of dark excitement laced through every word. "Outside." he purrs, and you can hear the subtle sounds of their breaths and footsteps over the phone.

Your stomach tightens at the simplicity of his answer. "Outside where?"

"Your house."

You lurch forward, pulling the curtain aside slightly as you look outside, checking the area. The yard is dark, the street silent, but that doesn't mean anything—not with them.

"You were gonna break in, weren't you?" you accuse, already knowing the answer. They knew you were alone tonight, your parents were at some get-together with their friends.

"Technically, it's not breaking in if we have a key," Stu sing-songs almost mockingly.

Your breath catches both confusion and disbelief. "You do not have a—"

The soft click of your front door unlocking echoes through the quiet house as your pulse stutters.

The door swings open slowly, revealing Stu's ever-present grin as he steps inside like he owns the place. Billy follows right behind, closing the door with a deliberate slowness. Their eyes gleam with mischief as they take in your reaction.

"Surprise!" Stu announces, arms spread wide as he rushes to you and you run much like the victim in every horror movie. Leaving the taller boy to chance and tackle you to the couch, pinning you under his weight.

"Are you two serious?" You groan as Stu's hands are tight around your wrists holding them above your head on the couch, leaving you squirming and glaring. "I could have called the cops!"

Billy tilts his head, smirk widening as he takes his time to get to the couch, leaving your 'capture' up to Stu. "What's wrong? Didn't expect company?"

"Not uninvited company who thinks home invasion is flirting!" you snap, annoyed at being manhandled, though the stirring in your stomach disagrees with that sentiment.

Stu lets an exaggerated sigh into your neck, biting the skin there. Stretching himself over your body like he belongs there. "Aw, c'mon, babe. You love us."

Billy leans against the wall, arms crossed, eyes dark and unreadable. "And you wouldn't call the cops on us."

You try to free your arms from Stu's bruising grip, meeting Billy's gaze with a challenge. "And why not?"

He doesn't blink as he smirks, his dark gaze roaming your body under Stu, his inner thoughts and desires clear. "Because then we'd have to teach you a lesson."

Stu grins, tossing a look at his best friend before they both glance back at you with matching grins of amusement. "A really fun lesson."

Your heart pounds—not entirely from fear.

The air in the room thickens a cocktail of tension and something dangerously enticing. Stu's weight presses you deeper into the couch, his teeth grazing your neck again—harder this time, just enough to make you gasp.

Billy pushes off the wall, his slow, deliberate steps closing the distance until he looms over you both, his shadow stretching across the flickering TV screen.

"Lesson, huh?" you manage, voice sharp despite how your body betrays you, squirming less out of resistance now and more out of instinct. "What's that gonna look like, Billy? You gonna bore me to death with another movie rant?"

Billy's smirk twists into something darker, his eyes glinting with that unhinged edge you've learned to both dread and crave. He crouches beside the couch, close enough that you feel the heat radiating off him, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

"Oh, I've got better ideas than that," he murmurs, voice low and syrupy with menace. "But you keep running that mouth, and I might let Stu gag you instead."

Stu snickers, shifting so his knee nudges between your thighs, his grip on your wrists tightening as he leans in to whisper against your ear. "I vote gag. Bet you'd look real pretty with something stuffed in there." His breath is hot, his tone teasing, but there's a gleam in his eyes that says he's only half-joking.

You roll your eyes huffing, fighting the flush creeping up your neck. "You two are psychopaths. You know that, right?"

"Only for you," Stu chirps, nipping at your earlobe before glancing at Billy for approval—like a kid showing off a new trick.

Billy's gaze doesn't waver, locked on yours as his fingers trail down your jaw, lingering at your throat. "Psychopaths who know exactly what you like," he says, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point, feeling it jump.

The words hang there, heavy and loaded, and for a moment, the room feels like it's holding its breath. The TV drones on in the background—some cheesy slasher flick, the kind they'd mock relentlessly, but it's drowned out by the thudding in your chest.

You could fight harder, scream, kick, call their bluff. But you don't. And they know you won't. "Fine," you say at last, voice steady despite the chaos they've sparked in you. "Now what?"

Stu's grin widens, victorious, and he releases your wrists only to slide his hands down your arms, settling them on your hips. "Now," he says, voice dripping with glee, "we have some fun. House is ours tonight, right?"

Billy straightens up, his expression unreadable but his intent clear as he tilts his head toward the stairs. "Upstairs," he commands, already moving like he owns the place. "Unless you'd rather we drag you."

You scoff, shoving Stu off you with a mix of annoyance and adrenaline-fueled excitement. "You wish," you mutter, brushing past them both as you head for the stairs, their eyes burning into your back.

Halfway up, you pause, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk of your own. "But don't think I'm making this easy for you."

Stu laughs, bounding up after you like an eager puppy. At the same time, Billy follows at a slower pace, his stare predatory and patient. "Oh, babe," Stu calls, voice laced with dark promise, "we wouldn't have it any other way."

The door to your room creaks open, and as the three of you step inside, the night stretches out before you—equal parts game, nightmare, and something neither of them will let you forget come morning.