The air was cold and crisp that morning.
The fog purred like a mutant; it's perverse mass seeping into every nook and cranny.
Chanyeol's footsteps echoed into the cacophony of commuters as he strolled the streets, head down.
It was more barren than usual. Not that barren meant that it wasn't busy, because it was, yet, for the centre of Seoul, it was worryingly dispersed.
Of course, the reason was highly apparent. Racks of newspapers, televisions in shops, radios and even billboards all screamed the same message.
A serial killer.
Plain and simple.
One would ponder, why wasn't he scared? Well, he was. The big softy was fucking petrified. However, at the same time, holing himself up in his room wouldn't do much to protect him from a killer who has given the police a total of zero leads in the, almost, three months of their murderous rampage.
The blonde haired male could only simply kick his feet against the worn pavement.
He was heading to his friends' cafe. It wasn't big, nor was Chanyeol that close to them, but it gave him something to do.
There wasn't much to do, you see?
You'd think that living in the centre of the capital of South Korea would be exiting, it wasn't.
But, to some it is exiting.
Smog masks decorated the public's faces as fluorescent lights burned onto their skin.
But they still smiled.
Their eyes would crease into crescents as they giggled obnoxiously.
Chanyeol wasn't jealous. Not one bit.
Okay, maybe he was jealous, but only by a little bit.
Standing underneath a familiar alcove, the blonde pushed open a weighted door, the rust coloured curtain rustled and the chain locks jingled a heartwarming tune as he entered.
Taking in the rush of warmth, Chanyeol pulled his mask under his chin, his ears becoming flushed and red with the influx.
A gentle smell filled his nose. It was a mix of home baked cakes and ramyeon.
It was unique, and Chanyeol revelled in it, closing his eyes.
"Mr Park, what a delight!" Cooed a man from behind the counter. Chanyeol flicked open his eyes as a smile spread across his face.
Smiling up at him was his school friend, Kim Jongin. He had honey brown hair in a middle part, hanging seductively, perfectly, over his eyebrows. He had a small splash of flour on his left cheek and his tanned arms were spilled, playfully, across the counter.
"Hey, Kim. Where's the mrs. ?" Chanyeol teased, walking closer so he too could rest his arms on the warm wooded counter.
"We're just friends, and he'll kill you if he heard you say that." Jongin laughed, wholeheartedly.
"Watch it, saying those kind of things, these days, can get you arrested." The taller joked back, earning a scoff from the boy behind the counter.
Suddenly a figure appeared from the back. He was carrying a tray of white iced buns. Glacé cherries decorated the tops like a drop of blood in the snow.
He had short black hair with shaved sides, a piercing gaze, a grey laced apron - tied in a bow, and some flour on the tip of his nose.
Do Kyungsoo.
"What are you gentlemen laughing about?" He asked, a brow raised as he set up the display.
"Nothing, dude!" Jongin giggled, reaching over to steal one of the sweet treats. Kyungsoo swatted at his hand and Jongin retreated; pouting.
Chanyeol couldn't help but laugh. He couldn't stop his smile as he slid himself over the counter, hanging up his long military coat and knotting the strings of a cream coloured apron behind his back.
Being taken by his hand, Chanyeol was led into the kitchens. Kyungsoo's soft palm guided him to the sink. Stacks of oven trays, china plates and corrupted glasses; stained with coffee, tea and every juice under their dull, solemn sun, piled high.
Chanyeol rolled his eyes in amusement as he began work on the piles, tuning his ears into the radio, humming in the corner of the room.
"Seoul 365 radio here, with the best updates on the recent news!
Chanyeol scrubbed at a pot.
"Our top story today is on the recent murder cases, spanning from the outskirts of the city centre, to the main crossing."
The bubbles crawled up his large fingers.
"Following the apparent patterns, it's clear that another street has been targeted in the right side of the orthodox district. Even though there are few streets remaining free, Seoul radio 365 will not be revealing the direct street for privacy reasons, and respect to the future victims."
Right side? Orthodox district? Future victims? This is bad...
"It's clear that the killer is closing in on the capital centre, yet we can't help but ponder what will happen when they reach the middle. If you have any inside intel or personal opinions please send them to 'Seoul radio 365' on mobile and email. I have been Kim Jongdae with the news. Now to Kim Minseok with the weather."
"Umm, Chan? You're spilling water everywhere!" Kyungsoo called to Chanyeol's frozen figure, as bubbles and lukewarm water dribbled over the sides of the sink.
"Now, today has been a wonderful winter day, hasn't it? Tonight we are expecting small showers and light snow in the outskirts and-"
"I need to go." Chanyeol muttered, pulling himself out of the deep sink, shaking off the water and sprinting out of the kitchen. The double doors flapped helplessly as Chanyeol scrambled for his coat. He leapt over the counter and stumbled to his feet on the other side. He heard Jongin call out his name in shock as Chanyeol tripped towards the door. The previously peaceful plank was yanked out of place as Chanyeol thrusted it open and began to jog out into the cold;
The icy wind scratched at his cheeks, screaming a whisper into his ears as he pushed past people, unaware, on the pavement.
That day, the wind was truly the devils breath.
Back in the cafe, Jongin looked to his left, where Kyungsoo was standing, out of breath after running behind the tall man, as he had sped out of his kitchen.
He looked down at him with an anxious expression.
Kyungsoo was holding their friend's black phone in his small hands. It had been dropped in the chaos.
The raven looked up at him with a mirroring grimace.
Suddenly, the phone vibrated multiple times, sending shockwaves up his arms and down his spine. The pair jerked their heads downwards in fear as frantic texts lit up the childish lock screen.
Mother:
Park Chanyeol! Please tell me your safe!
Mother:
Me and your father were just listening to the radio, we just can't believe your being targeted by that monster!
Mother:
Please reply, we're worried.
Whatever could they do...
