His mind was spinning at a thousand miles per hour. Chanyeol stood, frozen, in the livingroom, his shoes stained with sticky, warm blood.
His white haired companion was, likewise, panicking, yet his handsome, pale face showed little change. He had obviously experienced these happenings many times before.
"Park..." Baekhyun breathed, glossy mouth barely moving. The blonde in question darted his widened, expressive eyes in his elder's direction, listening, attentively.
"Go upstairs and see her. She trusts you. I'll be right behind you." The serial killer spoke methodically, subtly jerking his small head in the general direction of the creaky, carpeted staircase, looming behind him.
Rushing, Chanyeol reluctantly dismissed the overarching desire to respond, his thick soles crashing upon the worn wood underfoot.
As he sped, his built shoulder lightly brushed up against the elder's frame, a slight, jarring shiver running up the blonde's spine. The former turned to follow after him, face hard, their footfall conjoining as they, once again, scaled the impending, rotten flight of stairs.
"W-what do I even say?" Chanyeol panted, steps high and quick as he started to climb. Baekhyun was close behind, just hanging back enough to allow himself time to react if someone did come into veiw. "Play dumb for now, she shouldn't of even seen me at all." The powerful serial killer sighed, his tone as calm as ever.
Chanyeol nodded, more to himself than to the killer, attempting to steady his nerves. It was rather odd; Chanyeol felt absolutely no regret in brutally murdering Baekhyun's father, and yet, the mere thought of Miss Manoban's feelings being shrewd by his actions spread great unease.
Play dumb? The blonde had been doing that for over seven years, now.
"Lis? You alright?" He questioned, voice clear, as his ruby-stained fist rapped at her barricaded bedroom door. A pained groan emanated from the room behind the plank, Lisa's distressed hum being easily clock-able.
Chanyeol's eyes flew wide in alarm, his busy, tanned arms rushing to free the blockages. "Stay still, I'm coming." He instructed, tone quivering slightly.
Baekhyun didn't help, his back was flattened to the nearby, papered wall, black body standing flush and still as if he were a modernist statue. The killer's broad, tightly clothed chest rose and fell ever-so-slightly, condemned to silence as he refused to lower his murderous guard. Not that Chanyeol had ever noticed, but the boy's smooth hand was hovering out, ghostly suspended behind the younger's hips, reaching for the very knife he had gifted nights ago. Baekhyun had noticed the weapon's position the second they had met again, as he would be quite a faltered assassin if he hadn't.
The old door let out an obnoxious screech as it clawed open, the gappy rim ripping at the matted carpet underfoot. A rush of hot air ran through the opening, pointlessly warming Chanyeol's empty cheeks. Frantic, the blonde's scanned the dark room, cursing his mere human sight.
When his coffee eyes finally focused, his frantic gaze crashed down upon a singular, slumped figure, splayed out, half across the bed, and half draping onto the floor.
Their midnight head was smashed down against the tainted flooring, and the minimalist comforter strewed, messily, around their loosely clothed hips.
To Chanyeol, it appeared as if they were lightly unconscious, as if they had calmly fallen asleep in such an unnatural position, and fear-inducing scarlet just happened to be leaking from their flushed scalp.
Lisa had fallen out of bed.
"Oh, crap." Chanyeol murmured, his enthralled expression numbly focused upon the trickling blood, ravishing the oak underfoot.
"Lisa?" He hesitantly called, tiptoeing closer, as to not awaken the innocent child laying, serine, in his fragile cot, so close nearby.
His calls received no reply, heavy worry setting into the taller's very bones.
His hands reached out, grasping at the mother's limp shoulders, mindlessly raised into her bare neck. Lisa's skin was reassuringly hot, the sun kissed surface radiating a lively heat. Chanyeol let out a short sigh of relief.
He grabbed tighter, body raising up from the ruined floor to lift the girl back atop the mattress. Her head swooshed to the side, painted lips falling apart. Her eyelids fluttered, pain showing in her sleepy, drained motions.
Relief was all he felt; looking down upon that beautifully-melancholy face.
