MY KILLER BOYFRIEND

The phone rang.

Ezra frowned at the screen, tilting his head when he saw the words Unknown Caller. He was sprawled across his couch in an oversized hoodie, one sock halfway off, a half-empty wine glass balanced dangerously on the coffee table beside him. Midnight was not the hour for phone calls, not unless it was someone drunk—or someone desperate.

Still, curiosity had a way of pulling him into trouble. He swiped and lifted it to his ear.

“Hello?”

A pause. Then a voice, low and deliberate, asked:

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

Ezra blinked, then barked a laugh. “Oh my God. Really?” He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Alright, fine. It’s The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It. Creepy nun, haunted house, demonic possession—the whole kit and caboodle. What about you, mystery caller?”

The voice chuckled, a gravelly, unsettling sound.

“The Conjuring is a good one. But me? I’m a fan of the original Scream. You know, the one that started it all.”

Ezra smirked, twirling the phone between his fingers. “Cool. But tell me—who the hell still makes prank calls in this day and age? Did you crawl out of a time capsule from the nineties? Or did you lose a bet with your friends?”

The tone shifted instantly, the voice dropping into something more serious, more sinister.

“Some people like to keep things… old school. Besides, it’s more personal this way. Don’t you think?”

Ezra’s eyebrows lifted. He let the silence stretch before he sighed dramatically. “Personal? Cute. But you didn’t answer the question: who are you?”

There was a scrape of breath across the line. Then:

“You know who I am. You’ve seen enough movies to figure it out by now.”

Ezra grinned, rolling onto his stomach, chin propped on his hand like he was gossiping with a friend. “Oooh, spooky. Am I supposed to be shaking right now? Want me to scream into the phone for effect?”

The voice ignored him.

“I just wanted to ask you one more question before we hang up.”

Ezra shrugged. “Go ahead, Ghostface.”

The voice came closer, almost pressed against his eardrum.

“If you were in a scary movie right now… would you be the one who survives until the end, or the one who gets picked off first?”

Ezra didn’t hesitate. “As much as I like living, I hate striving so hard for it. Honestly? I’d just offer myself up. Nice and quick. Save everybody the stress.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—soft laughter, chilling and amused.

“Oh, I like your attitude. Most people would say they’d fight to the end. But you… you’re different. You’re willing to just… give in.”

“Exactly.” Ezra stretched his legs out, smirking. “Saves everyone a lot of running and screaming.”

The voice dipped lower, almost a whisper.

“Alright then. Since you’re so cooperative… I’ll make it quick and painless. Just like you asked. Sweet dreams.”

The line went dead.

Ezra stared at the phone a moment, then snorted. “Wow. Somebody really needs to update their material. What is this, Scary Movie 6?”

He set the phone down, reaching lazily for his wine. He exhaled a laugh, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls. The house felt too still. Too quiet.

Then came the knock.

Heavy. Persistent. Angry.

Ezra froze, mid-sip, then slowly lowered the glass. His head turned toward the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

His lips parted into a grin. “Oh, no way. No fucking way.”

Leaving the glass behind, he padded barefoot across the floor, every thud of the knock echoing in time with his steps. He reached the door, placed his hand on the knob, and without hesitation, flung it wide open.

There he was.

A tall man cloaked in black, shoulders broad as a wall. A porcelain-white mask hid his face, blank and empty except for the dark holes of the eyes. In his right hand gleamed a large, curved knife that caught the dim porch light. His chest rose and fell with each deliberate breath.

The perfect cliché.

Ezra’s grin cracked into laughter. He doubled over against the doorway, clutching his stomach.

“Pfft! Oh my God—what is this get-up? You look like Party City had a clearance sale! Did you lose a bet? Please tell me this is a TikTok prank.”

The masked man’s grip tightened around the knife. He stepped forward abruptly, shoving Ezra back into the house with surprising force. The door slammed shut behind them, the sound reverberating through the quiet night.

Ezra stumbled back a step but caught himself, standing tall with a smirk tugging at his lips. The masked man’s posture was tense, shoulders rising and falling as if feeding on fear—except he wasn’t getting any.

Instead, Ezra tilted his head. “Damn. This is like a dream come true. I’m living in a horror movie. Chef’s kiss.”

The knife lifted slightly. “Shut up,” the man growled, his voice low, distorted by the mask.

Ezra didn’t flinch. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest. “So… wanna make out?”

The masked man froze mid-step. “…What the fuck did you just say?”

“You deaf under that thing?” Ezra’s grin widened. “I said: do. You. Want. To. Make. Out? Big fetish of mine. Masks, knives, the whole killer aesthetic. Very hot. Ever been with another man?”

The masked man stood utterly still, knife hand slackening. The blade dipped lower. His silence was thick, unreadable.

“…Are you fucking with me?”

“Do I sound like I am?” Ezra leaned back against the wall like this was casual banter, like they were at a bar instead of in his living room. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer I scream and run. I mean, if that’s your kink, I can play the role.”

The man tilted his head slightly, the mask catching the dim glow of the lamp. His breathing slowed, as if trying to process what kind of twisted script he’d stumbled into.

For a long beat, the room was silent but for Ezra’s soft chuckle.

Then, finally, the masked man muttered: “…You know what? Fuck it.”

He surged forward, grabbing Ezra’s waist in one swift, rough movement. Ezra gasped, but not from fear—his grin only sharpened. The cold porcelain mask pressed against his lips as the man’s voice rumbled from behind it: “Kiss me.”

Ezra smirked against the blank face, whispering just loud enough to be heard.

“Now this… is what I call immersive theater.”