It was all a blur, that short minute. The minuscule moment that Baekhyun had transformed into a murderous shadow.
His small frame seemed to slink through the apartment, silently hunting the oblivious target like a black hawk. Would it be insensitive to say that Chanyeol admired him? It was a ghastly talent to hide, and yet, the way only a dash of white hair could be seen as he closed in on his prey made the blonde weak at the knees.
The latter took a tiny second to breathe, trying to slow his heart. The man was still beating himself up about trying to kiss the killer. I mean, seriously, Chanyeol knew borderline nothing about Baekhyun. He didn't know the boy's preference, identity, habits, hell; he didn't even know the watcher's favourite colour. But, to be completely true, the blonde didn't even understand his feelings either. Prior to... that, Chanyeol merely saw the killer as someone to be admired, something to remain untouched for eternity by mortal hands. He didn't really understand why he did it either, but, was there actually any true harm in not quite understanding just yet?
He sighed, rolling his neck to a crack; it was starting to ache from the unforgiving constrictions of the hideout cabinet.
Taking in a peppy inhale, Chanyeol rushed to catch up, inelegantly tumbling out of the closet to follow after the serial killer. His footfall was fast and quite loud, one strong arm reaching up to catch himself upon the grimy top of the varnished doorframe.
The man was standing by the console table, where Lisa lay mere moments ago, his face not nearly quick enough to display his shock at his attackers, Baekhyun having sleekly arose from behind him to take a swift chop at the side of his neck. The crash of hand to throat made a sickening, crack sound, followed by the man instantly dropping to his knees, eyes wide, stunned. He slumped over, his head thumping to the patchy, carpeted floor. Assuming the man was now deeply unconscious, Chanyeol quickly analysed his appearance.
Just as expected, the man was obviously rich, a tailored, emerald suit tightly buttoned around his built chest. His thick hair was black with aged, silver streaks cascading through the slicked-back mop. He had deep wrinkles taking a telling home upon his forehead, thick frown lines, and charming, taught skin.
He looked oddly familiar.
"Who-" Chanyeol started, being swiftly cut off by Baekhyun simply leaving the room.
Chanyeol glanced towards the unfortunate man one more time, before marching over to the mysterious killer, his patience for the boy steadily wearing thin.
The blonde made his way into the attached kitchen space, the chill of the tiles somehow worming it's way through his bulky soles.
Baekhyun was wildly furrowing through the cupboards, seemingly searching for... something. Chanyeol really couldn't see what he was looking for, the older boy's frame fully obstructing his view, but it seemed rather important, so he stayed back.
"Need some help?" He asked, his voice delicate and weary. Baekhyun shook his head, enthusiastically jumping to his feet and spinning upon his heel.
He had found what he was looking for.
A thick, light-brown baseball bat sat in his blushed, feminine palm, making the killer look even smaller than he actually was.
Baekhyun grinned. "Turns out the little lady was planning to put up a fight tonight." He chuckled, smacking the weapon against his left hand, repeatedly. "I watched her hide it here this morning, however, I had forgotten which cabinet it was actually inside of."
The killer then took a large breath in, thrusting the bat into Chanyeol's folded arms. "I need to have a talk with this fella, so you can hold onto that for a moment." He informed, making Chanyeol hum in understanding. So this man was special afterall? The blonde found himself feeling a wee bit jealous.
He nonchalantly took a few practice swings, now alone in the kitchen, trying to catch a feel for the girthy, smooth baton. It really wasn't that heavy to him, but to someone who had never played the sport before, he assumed that it would be quite a surprise when they finally take it into their hands for the first time.
The bat hissed through the stale, evening air, the blurry weapon reminding Chanyeol of how the killer had whizzed about moments prior. Hmm... so innocent to the eye, and yet, held such destructive power; the baseball bat fit him somewhat.
"He should be coming around soon" Baekhyun yelled. "I only hit him hard enough to be out for about three minutes, max." He called from the other room, his intoxicatingly-handsome voice ringing out clear.
Oh, that's right, Chanyeol thought, making his way back into the lounge once again. "How did you learn to knock someone out like that? Are you like a black belt or something?" Chanyeol calmly questioned, taking a perch upon the dark wooded desk sitting, heavy, beside the dusty television stand.
Baekhyun giggled, his fingers busy as he enchained the posh stranger to a lonesome, skinny, dining chair. "Yellow, actually." He humoured, his cute head craning back to send the blonde a playful glance. Chanyeol laughed in disbelief, rather confused. "Then how the hell did you learn to do that?" He continued, leaning forward with interest.
The killer shook his head, legs straightening out. He walked over towards Chanyeol, his icy white locks draping over his forehead with a brief flick of the chin.
"Practice." He winked, stepping in between the blonde's spread thighs.
Oh. That made sense. "Ah." Chanyeol acknowledged, sheepishly nodding.
Baekhyun teasingly glared up at him. "Now where is all that confidence from earlier?" He smirked, rocking forward on the balls of his feet.
The blonde flushed, looking away, cornered. "Yeah, I'm sorry, that was really out of line." He spoke, drooping down. "Seriously, I didn't mean to assume anyth-" a pale finger fell upon his chapped, peach lips, instantly silencing the apologising younger.
"I... didn't mind." The killer whispered. "To be honest, I've admired you for quite a while."
Chanyeol could feel himself heat up, his brain self destructing as the seconds passed. His jaw dropped open as the quiet killer sharply retrieved his finger. "But, you didn't reciprocate anything before..." the blonde murmured, almost as stunned as the unconscious, old man beside them. "A random closet isn't really the best place for that kind of thing... and you know me; you know fully well I've definitely never even come close to doing those kind of things before." Baekhyun shyly muttered, looking down.
Again, Chanyeol felt like he was going to explode; the killer's lowered expression making him helplessly swoon. "And where would be a good place to do 'those kind of things'?" He deeply hummed, tilting his head to the side, testing the waters.
"I-I don't know..." Baekhyun stuttered, flustered by the younger's shameless approach. Suddenly, the shorter smirked, confidently looking up. "A random living room, maybe?" He gently cooed. Chanyeol was now the one being taken aback, one carved eyebrow significantly higher than the other. Was that a challenge?
Chanyeol dropped the baseball bat to the floor, his fingers limp as he engulfed himself in the mere existence of Byun Baekhyun.
The blonde's eyes were hooded, his heated gaze dipping down to the watcher's ruby lips for just a moment, before mindlessly leaning in.
But once again, he was cut off, an unwelcome voice filling the dimming apartment.
"Mmm... what the-" the old man spoke, his limp, bruising neck lifting from his green, velvet shoulder. He looked up, Baekhyun now firmly standing directly infront of his arising gaze, a deep, swelling power emanating from his dictator-like stance. Chanyeol hadn't even noticed him walk away.
The man's whisky eyes flew incredibly wide, as if they had fallen upon the disasterous frame of a vengeful ghost, ice-hot terror flooding his cosmetically enhanced face.
"Yo- you-" the enslaved man breathlessly spluttered, his voice leaving him in his moment of fright.
"Hello, Father." Baekhyun sneered, glaring down his pale, sharp nose.
An// taking a little break now! Tell me your thoughts~ -🔪
