Chapter 104: Popcorn, Privacy, and Pretending

Kane settled onto the bed, pulling the cashmere blanket up to his chest with exaggerated stiffness.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "We’re lying in an actual bed. In a movie theater. Who does this?"

Cyrus arranged their truffle popcorn and sparkling water on the mahogany side table.

He twisted the cap off Kane’s water bottle, setting it within easy reach before opening his own.

"People who appreciate comfort and privacy."

"Privacy for what, exactly?" Kane shot him a suspicious look. "This better not be some elaborate seduction scheme."

Cyrus reclined beside Kane. The mattress barely shifted under his weight as he positioned himself at a respectful distance, hands folded over his chest.

"I’m simply enjoying an evening at the cinema with you."

Kane turned his head, studying Cyrus’s profile in the flickering light from the screen.

Even lying down, Cyrus maintained perfect posture, looking like he belonged in a luxury hotel suite rather than a movie theater.

"You’re far too calm about this whole thing."

"Would you prefer I be anxious?"

"I’d prefer you to admit this is weird."

The screen displayed fog-shrouded towers and crumbling gargoyles while ominous music swelled.

Villagers huddled in a tavern, voices hushed as they spoke of ancient curses and restless spirits.

"Oh, come on." Kane grabbed a handful of truffle popcorn.

"Look at that so-called ’haunted’ mansion. Zero ward markings, no protective barriers, and the spiritual energy readings would be off the charts if something actually lived there."

On screen, a foolish protagonist ignored all warnings and marched toward the mansion’s front door.

"Amateur," Kane continued.

"First rule of spirit investigation—you don’t just waltz through the front entrance. You scout the perimeter, check for secondary access points, and always have an extraction plan."

Cyrus nodded thoughtfully as ghostly wails echoed from the speakers.

"The manifestation patterns are completely incorrect. Spirits don’t randomly throw furniture around for dramatic effect. They’re energy beings—every action has purpose and cost."

"Exactly." Kane pointed at the screen where books flew off shelves in perfect choreography.

"Real poltergeist activity is chaotic and unpredictable. This looks like a dance routine."

The protagonist screamed as a chandelier crashed down, missing him by inches.

Both Kane and Cyrus sighed in unison.

"And why is he still going deeper into the house?" Kane threw his hands up as the protagonist climbed a clearly unstable staircase. "Any rational person would’ve called for backup by now."

"The structural integrity of that banister is obviously compromised," Cyrus observed dryly. "One can see the rot from here."

"Don’t get me started on his equipment. A single flashlight? Where’s his EMF detector? His spirit-warded ammunition?"

"The lack of proper protective gear is appalling."

Kane leaned forward, gesturing at the screen. "And look at his technique! He’s making enough noise to wake the dead—literally."

"His footwork alone would alert every entity within a three-mile radius."

"The way he’s holding that flashlight, he might as well paint a target on his—"

Kane stopped mid-sentence, a horrible realization dawning on his face. He slowly turned to look at Cyrus, who was watching him with barely contained amusement.

"Oh no. We’re basically the annoying couple in the back row."

Cyrus’s lips curved into a satisfied smirk.

"Precisely why I paid five hundred dollars for privacy. I had a feeling we’d provide our own commentary."

Kane stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"That’s even worse. We paid five hundred dollars to privately roast a B-grade horror movie."

"I’d say we’re getting excellent value for our entertainment."

On screen, the protagonist made another spectacularly poor decision, and they both groaned in perfect synchronization.

Suddenly, a grotesque specter burst from the screen with a bone-rattling shriek, its hollow eyes boring into the camera as discordant violins screeched through the surround sound.

Kane didn’t even blink.

He’d seen actual nightmare spirits tear through dimensional barriers. Movie CGI barely registered as a threat.

From his peripheral vision, he caught Cyrus glancing over, clearly waiting for some kind of reaction.

The dragon’s expression held mild disappointment, as if he’d been anticipating—hoping for—Kane to jump.

Kane bit back a grin. Two could play this game.

"Oh!" He gasped dramatically, clutching Cyrus’s forearm with both hands and pressing closer. "That was terrifying!"

Cyrus went completely still beneath his touch. Kane could feel the precise moment every muscle in the dragon’s body tensed and he could hear the subtle shift in his breathing.

Then Cyrus’s lips curved into the smuggest expression Kane had ever seen.

"There’s no need to be frightened." Cyrus’s arm slipped around Kane’s shoulders, drawing him against his chest.

"I’m here."

Kane nestled into the warmth, fighting to keep his expression appropriately startled rather than triumphant.

Both of them knew exactly what they were doing.

On screen, the protagonist continued making terrible decisions, but neither was paying attention anymore.

Cyrus adjusted the cashmere blanket, pulling it up to cover both their shoulders.

"You seem cold," he murmured, though the private screening room was perfectly climate-controlled.

"Very thoughtful," Kane replied, settling more firmly against Cyrus’s chest. The dragon’s heartbeat thrummed steady and strong beneath his ear.

They maintained this careful pretense through the film’s increasingly absurd plot twists.

Kane would tense dramatically at jump scares that wouldn’t frighten a child, and Cyrus would tighten his protective hold in response.

Neither acknowledged that Kane’s "startled" reactions conveniently occurred whenever the action lagged.

The movie reached its climactic reveal—the kindly village priest had been the ancient evil all along, complete with glowing red eyes and maniacal laughter.

"Called it," Kane said flatly. "Suspicious from scene two."

"Pathetic writing," Cyrus agreed. "The foreshadowing was heavy-handed at best."

"Though I have to admit, his evil cackle was impressively terrible."

"A credit to overacting everywhere."

The credits rolled, bathing them in soft blue light. Neither moved to leave immediately.

Kane remained curled against Cyrus’s side, the dragon’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders.

Finally, they stirred, gathering their belongings with unhurried movements.

Walking through the cinema’s marble lobby, Kane felt oddly satisfied. Not because of the ridiculous horror movie or even the obscenely expensive snacks.

For the first time since their bond formed, they’d simply been close because they wanted to be.

Even if they’d hidden it behind fake scares and film criticism.

They settled into the BMW’s leather seats, the engine purring to life with barely a whisper. Cyrus adjusted his rearview mirror, glancing at Kane in the passenger seat.

"Ready to go home?"