Hell Hole

Chapter Eight.

"Kirana!" Felix hollered, papers falling from his grasp as he ran across the chair-riddled room, his chest heaving up and down.

The woman swiveled in her chair, looking up at the Male with a snide smile, "Yes, Felix? What's got you this excited?"

"Woojin!" He exclaimed, "Remember when He, when He called? The connection went out before He could answer his location and I finally tracked it down to approximately where He was!"

Kirana grimaced, hiding it immediately with a tilt of her head, "That's great, where do you suppose he was then?" She twirled her fingers, a nervous habit she had picked up from the Male infront of her.

"Jugyeom studio," Felix stated with determination, placing the papers down onto the Woman's desk, "I have enough evidence against them to call for a warrant and investigate tomorrow, I just need another Police Officer with me."

"I'll go as long as you buy me a coffee right about now," She tittered up, brushing off her uniform, "I'm parched."

"Alright! Sounds good!"

Chris stood in the hallway bleakly, his nose tilted up towards the ceiling. There was a loose tile that hung just above his head, blood dripping down it and onto his forehead. His eyebrows furrowed upon the mess that seeped from the room above him, obviously from Minho's last kill. He snapped out of his trance immediately as he sensed a presence infront of him, his eyes falling down.

Jeongin stood there, his work clothes wrinkled from the stressful day he had. His fingers wrung into the cuffs of his shirt, looking up at the Man with hopeful, chastened eyes, "Chris.."

Chris plastered a smile upon his lips, wiping the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand, "Yes?" He asked, grasping the Boy's shoulders.

"I," Jeongin stammered, flickering his gaze down to the floor, "I was wondering if you'd like to go drinking tonight?" His voice broke into a whisper, "I asked you before.."

"Of course," Chris hushed the boy, tightening his grip, "I'd love to, go change and then we can get out of here. I'm absolutely craving some alcohol, or some bar food- both are great."

Up and down. Jeongin had nodded in that sequence, turning and twiddling down the hallway back to his room. He pulled off his shirt along with his pants, tugging a set of clothes off of a hanger. He slid them on, brushing them down so the fabric would smooth around the contours of his body.
He turned out of his room with a grin, only met with Chris's chest. He tilted his head upwards, setting his chin on the clothed area, "Are you familiar with The Saints? It's a club and I've wanted to try it out for a while."

"I've been there a few times," memories flashed through Chris's mind, "It's known for its past murders though, haven't you heard of the guy that was choked to death there about a month ago?"

Jeongin gulped, his blood running cold. His gaze fell, shaking his head, "Don't joke about that stuff, Chris," He muttered, "It's scary, not funny."

"I wasn't joking." Chris only laughed, grabbing onto the Boy's hand and tugging him down towards the exit, "Let's go slow-poke."

Jeongin flew along, tripping over his feet with little stumbles. His mind frittered down to their hands, their palms molding together perfectly. He couldn't keep himself from smiling, giggling to himself in nonchalant little fits.

"God, If I would've known you had the prettiest laugh," Chris flashed a smirk at the boy, tightening his grip, "I would'a been trying to make you all giggly this whole time."

Jeongin's cheeks burnt, biting down onto his plump, still bruised bottom lip. He caught up to the Man, walking beside him down the rickety stairs of the studio, "You're just un-funny, so that's why I don't laugh that much."