Don't Focus on the Pastel {5SOS;MALUM&LASHTON}✔️

Two- "It is kind of pretty."

Calum sighed as he crouched down to the height of casket. He ignored the few flashes around the scene, catching for nonexistent evidence cause everything was inside of this casket he was staring in. Harry was standing right beside him, peering over his crouched body to look at the lifeless art. Calum knew Harry was going to say something about the details of the work in the report, probably would get in trouble for it, then Calum would have to shred the report and do it again.

He looked over his shoulder when another cop car pulled up, sirens blaring in contrast with the rest of the cops who had their silent sirens on. He stood to his original height, dusting off his pants as Harry turned to face the sergeant that stormed pat the rest of team with fury in his eyes.  Calum stood to the side, allowing the shorter man to stand where he once was as he crossed his arms over his chest. Louis had gloves on in an instant, ordering for the long haired brunet to get him a bag for evidence. It was almost like an animation with how red Louis' face got when he found the same piece of paper that was always left behind.

'Pretty little thing, caught in the mix by friends of fiends.' Written in the prettiest cursive Calum had ever seen on paper.

He gave it to Harry, who had in the short time put gloves on and gently put it in the bag before sealing  it up. This happened a few more times with the flowers and samples of makeup on his face and glitter as his tears. Calum watched as Louis worked with picking apart the work of a psychotic artist. His eyebrows scrunched together, moving past Harry and crouching beside the cerulean eyed boy. He snapped his fingers, catching one of the newer cops attention and demanded a glove, sliding it over his hand before reaching down into the casket. He ran his finger over the man's neck, smudging some of the makeup that was there to hide the imperfection on the skin.

"Throat slit. Same as the redhead from two weeks ago and the stab wounds to the brunet last week. Balisong blade." He explained, taking the glove off and tucking it into his pocket as Louis connected the pieces in his head, like Calum did out loud.

"Who ran the autopsy? What kind of stab wounds were they for the brunet?"

"Torso, four identified and all stitched together by pink thread. Covered in makeup. And, um, Cory did the autopsy. He's been doing everyone that's connected to this case." Harry told him, causing Louis to stand up, like Calum did.

"Get this evidence back to the station. I want Smith to do this autopsy as soon as he comes in tomorrow. I want patterns on my desk immediately. Hood, Styles we'll talk more tomorrow when you come in. Get some rest. We've got a long fucking day tomorrow." He ordered, both cops he addressed nodding in respect as he turned on his heels.

Calum sighed, glancing down at the body once more before following Harry off the crime scene. Harry ducked under the caution tape, Calum following behind soon after and letting Harry get into the driver side as he got into the passenger. Harry turned the lights off as he pulled down the dark street of the neighborhood, flicking on the high beams. Calum leaned back in the passenger seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he puffed out some air. He could just feel the stress weighing him down even more, he felt it pinching at his nerves when he first got the call of an unknown casket laying in someone's front yard.

He bid goodbye to Harry when they got to his apartment, promising to try and get some rest so he wouldn't be screwed in the morning. He shut the door, watching as Harry cautiously pulled from the parking lot of his apartment and down the street. Turning on his heels, he left into the enclosure, going up the stairs. He unlocked his door, brushing a hand through his messy hair from brushing his hand through it countless times or pulling at it as he stared at the stupid board of pictures, notes, and dumbass colorful wires. He was sick and tired of wasting over a case but he couldn't pull himself to asked to be put on another case. It was sickening to have to stay on something that was literally pulling him apart from the inside, but it was more sickening to think of letting one of the rookies in his department have this case.

He didn't mean anything by it, he wasn't gloating or acting cocky, it was just evident that he was one of the best cops on the force. The team he worked with was the best. Harry, Cory, himself, and Louis solved at least nine out of every ten case they've gotten. Even the stupid petty ones like  having to identify taggers or kids that somehow got their hands on cigarettes and alcohol and were stupid enough to use them out in public.

He changed out of his uniform, tossing his badge onto his dresser mindlessly. He laid back on his bed, pulling at his hair as he screwed his eyes shut. He could feel the bursts of pain in his scalp, the way his fingers locked and seemed to pull harder when he just wanted to sleep forever. His hand unlocked and slipped out of his hair, falling at his sides as he laid over his bedding instead of getting under.

He hated having another case like this, hated how it had a hold over him and how the pictures of dead people withered away, life stolen and replaced by pretty colors, flashed behind his eyelids in a flurry of glitter, rainbows, flowers, and pink. Pastel fucking pink. Calum never thought he could be scarred by staring at such a soft color. It was more than just the normal murder or the normal psychopath.

This was a game and Calum would be damned if he lost.

{~~~~}

ANOTHER CHAPTER???? I think I'm the most surprised person here, tbh. Anyhow...

Thank you for reading. Have a octopus friend....(>~<)/ 🐙.

Until next chapter, funky freaks. Adios.....