𝑅𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈-ᴄʜᴇɴʟᴇ

Freaks~55

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Oh, would you love me less?
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Chan's fingers tightened over the knurled grip of his pistol, index finger resting over the trigger as his smirk grew, careful to keep his eyes on Chenle.

Chenle, with the thunderous booming of his heart roaring over all of his rational thoughts, stood steadily with both feet planted on the ground- stable, displaying the posture of a trained sniper.

Chenle's crepuscular eyes cut through the thick, uncomfortable air like a bullet, piercing through a very unbothered Chan, provoking a Chan to threaten to spill from Chan's lips- barely refraining.

His cimmerian, black hair looked over his face like rugged, poisoned spikes, accentuating the tenebrous, malevolent gleam that hid within his irises- warning everyone of his malicious intent.

Fingers tight around the handle of the gun, Chenle's knuckles were white from tension- not from fear, but from every single emotion that had been buried deep within him, which Chan had stirred up.

Loose, languid stance contrasting the utter rage that twisted within his chest, Chenle itched to pull the trigger, and end Chan's life, seal his lips forever, but he couldn't- it was a risk, but it was a risk he wanted to take, but shouldn't.

When it came to guns and shooting, a human's first instinct is to tense- shoulders high, breath restricted and strained, fists clenched, vein bulging- but for more efficiency, you must do the opposite.

Exhale while you shoot to place you in the moment, clearing your mind and ridding your mind of concerns and tautness. No one would want a shaky hand to aim a deadly bullet, nor would anyone want a shooter to miss because their shoulders were too high- causing sarcastic discomfort. Besides, it's much more natural and professional.

As Chenle knows, calmness is key.

Too bad internal tranquility wasn't an option.

Chan's eyes remained staring steadily at Chenle, and demonic, sly glint that danced within his irises caused Chenle's mind to spiral into dozens of quick suspicions- his workaholic brain subtly distracting him from his twisted anger, beginning to feel an ominous intuition that lured him to the idea that something was off.

Chenle's eyes narrowed at Chan, and his scrutiny scoured the boy in front of him for any hint of foul play, but the incriminating weapon that was clutched within Chan's grip was obscured from view.

Known to Chenle, the NCT Dream had forced Stray Kids to stack their firearms my the door, which was enforced by the intense patting-down that NCT Dream had provided.

Chenle wondered what ace Chan held up his sleeve, and what leverage had lead Chan to make such a bold move- provoking Chenle.

Sure, it placed NCT Dream in a tricky situation, as Chan had explained, which meant that Chenle was unlikely to slaughter the leader, but that didn't mean the option was off the table; murder was always available.

Jaemin's eyes- whilst he held a Smith & Wesson within his fingers- flickered between Chenle and Chan, his Adam's apple bobbing uncomfortably. As if his belly was a washing machine, it churned with anxiety as he watched, but his firearm remained aimed at the floor as he walked back and forth behind Stray Kids.

His eyes raked over the back of their colorful heads, passing by various hues that stained their hair- shades as extravagant as blue, bleached, silver, and cherry red, which caused Jaemin to wonder how they blended in with normal crowds.

Jaemin's eyes wandered towards Chenle as he stood a little ways away, eyes growing stoic as he thought, which wasn't unusual.

The thing was, Chenle's irises wouldn't plunge into utter the sea of his intelligent mind in such high-tension so entirely unless something had set him off, forcing him to reevaluate their situation.

Chenle would walk into nearly anything with an entire plan laid out, but, never minded bending the rules if he could speed something up, for he hated to waste time.

Therefor, Chenle never had the need to think so deeply in the middle of a high-risk situation.

But now, his eyes flicked over Chan with utter engrossment, searching for something- anything out of the ordinary.

Jaemin's lips pursed together as he wandered back the way he came, and the manifestation of metaphorical spiders created from foreboding nerves began to creep up his spine, rushing over his skin like a wave of tiny, hairy legs flying over him.

At the edge of the table sat Felix, his own gaze flickering between the heated leaders. Eyes stoic and purposely blank, Felix released a dark, apathetic aura by default, mainly caused by his narrowed stare and deep, coaxing voice that had left a surprising impression on everyone when they had first heard him speak- just a few moments earlier when they had first entered the house.

Although he was silent, the ominous chill that creeped up one's spine that arose whenever he spoke remained.

His silver hair tainted blue ever so slightly, Felix his his nervousness well, but he had failed to hide the anxious swallowing and biting of his lips that occasionally displayed his unease, so anyone who looked close enough could tell that he was quite on edge.

Across from him sat Rin, her head down, eyes quivering as they stuck to the ground. She chewed so vigorously on the inside of her mouth that she tasted blood, and her cheeks caved inwards subtly- coincidentally giving her a more sullen look as her teeth scraped along them.

Her shoulders were high, and it was obvious by the awkward way that her chest expanded and retracted irregularly that she was nervous to even breathe, yet Rin intensely tried to fit in with the crowd of heartless gangsters.

She desperately avoided everyone's gaze, breath uneven and slightly audible, which lead Jaemin to believe she was horrible at hiding her emotions, but she couldn't bare the silence.

Jaemin, gaze wandering over the scene, paced towards the head of the table- one had wrapped around the handle of his gun as his fingers found their way into his pocket, skin grazing the fabric of his sweat pants.

Clasping then rim of a silver, cold ring he had stole the the day before, he skillfully pushed it out of his pocket without making much of a scene as he found himself directly beside the table.

It clattered to the ground with a echoing clack, attracting only Felix's eyes whilst Rin flinched- arms cradling herself.

Gaining an excuse, Jaemin began to crouch down, which caused Felix's eyes begin to widen slightly, his stare whirling towards Chan's gun as it pointed straight at Rin, but he could do nothing without suspicion falling upon him.

Knees bending to the ground, Jaemin's fingers latched over the stolen ring, slipping back into his pocket as he quickly let his gaze drift upwards- seeing a long line of sixteen legs on one side, eight on the other.

What he didn't expect to see was a black, deadly gun pressed into Chan's palm, pointed directly at Rin's kneecaps.

Oh Jaemin knows👀