Finding More Than Ghosts (Buzzfeed Unsolved/Shyan One Shots)

Cleaning

A/N: So this is the (probably) the first AU I've done that actually isn't Shyan. I've been working on this one since last year, and I had it finished back in January! I posted it to my BFUAmino account, and I wanted to share it here as well! I hope you all enjoy, and feel free to suggest other AU's/One Shots!

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"Help! Someone convict him of this heinous crime. We're running out of time."
-"Tug of War" by Set It Off

Ryan looked at the dagger, watching the remnants of blood drip into the kitchen sink. His free hand lifted to turn the faucet on, the sound of the gently rushing water cooled his own boiling blood. What was once crystalline, pure Adam's Ale, swirled into a small crimson river. Once the blood was done away with, the sleek, black-haired man could see the reflection of his chestnut optics. However, hiding behind the color of trees (and his victim's hair), lied the color of fire and piercing rage.

He slid the knife back into the rack it was purchased with, the familiar 'shing' sound welcoming itself once again into Ryan's ears, like that of many times before. Said tone slit a smile on the adult's face, symbolizing a job well done.

Walking at a hauntingly stable pace, Ryan began to disrobe; searching for another outfit that wasn't decorated with that of human paint. He settled on a black shirt, black jeans, and some converses, nothing too fancy. All components off his attire perfectly accompanied his raven locks.
Stepping into the restroom, the gentleman swiped a washcloth from the shelf, wet it, and rid his face of the claret. Looking in the mirror, his focus wasn't on that of his dashing dress coiffure (all of which masked his...Tendencies perfectly.), but rather past events that moved him to this point.

*FLASHBACK*

Seven Months. He'd been keeping a hawk's eye on him for seven months, roughly two-hundred-twelve days. A casual passage of time to you and me, but it resembled the closest thing to a hellish obsession for the black-haired Bergara. Many dark nights were spent sitting in his car, watching his newest victim's every move, even though he was definitively taller than him. When the next morning's sun would arise, he'd return to his apartment to further devise his course of action.

However this morning, he need plan no further. His friend was going to die, promptly at dusk.

Ryan sat at the desk in his room, just...Sitting there, staring at the wall. An evil, menacing, almost hellish grin rested ever so comfortably on his face. Over and over again, he replayed the scene of his dear friends horrid murder; The scene of him plunging the knife into his chest, hearing the man's screams of pain as the blood and life drain out of him at an agonizingly slow pace. Hearing and feeling the limp body hit the floor would only be the icing on the cake.

Slowly, and almost cat-like, he made his way to the man's apartment; stare sly and sinister, and his lips slivered into an evil, insane smile. The setting sun seemed to illuminate the darkness about to happen, yet, it had a darkness of its own. A natural foreshadow. Once he'd made it inside (thanks to his friend's natural hospitality), things flowed to a relatively normal rhythm. They'd made gentle conversation about how Unsolved was going.

...Then the knife was pulled out. It seemed as though all of Ryan's criminological knowledge had come to have some use after all. Just...not in the right way.

"Wh-What are you doing with that, Ry? Why do you need a knife?"

Ryan just came closer, maintaining his smirk, eyes flickery and fiery with madness.

The figure stepped back more, beginning to quiver; however, he hit the back of the kitchen counter-Stuck. "R-Ryan? You okay? You've got a look in your eyes..."

Ryan leaned close, his breath on his prey's neck and cheek.

"Perfect."

After that cold whisper, he plunged the knife into his colleague, holding him up. Ry watched his eyes, the slideshow they created: Fear turned to shock, surprise, pain-agony, then nothing. The scariest thing to feel. The man had no strength or voice left to scream with. Quite a let down for his killer here. Can't have it all it seems.
Ryan saw his eyes dilate, indicating the blood seeping to his shirt had run cold. He pulled the knife out and stepped back.

Ba-Dum.
Down he went, like a painted ragdoll.

Ryan carried him to his bedroom, tossing him on the bed. He began to clean the scene and make it seem just as domestic as it was before he left his malicious footprint inside of it. Once finished, he simply left, satisfied. The knife loosely situated itself in his hand.

*RETURN TO PRESENT*

Ryan fixed his hair a little more, grin finding a way back to his face-getting all too comfortable. He adjusted his collar as the door knocked.

He opened it, grin higher, and his eyes twinkling an opaque twinkle.

"Hi Shane. Perfect timing, I was just cleaning up. Ready to go?"

He nodded. "Is Brent coming?'

Ryan's grin was knife-like, nearing a smirk.

"Oh I don't think so. He's a little bedridden. Probably will be for a while."