swine | ☆

● chapter 4. ○

Y/n winced, his immediate physical reaction to struggle because there was absolutely no way he was about to be murdered right there. But-

Holy fucking- is this guy made of steel?!

Y/n's cold hands were trapped in an iron grip, the silhouette hovering above him only now beginning to take shape.

The large male was covered head-to-toe in black, a hood over his head, and, fuck, a mask covering his face. A pig mask; a pale, dull pink with beady, black eyes.

The now struggling male only got the thought to scream — really, Chris was in the next room, if he could alert him — as soon as The Swine did, his free hand coming down to cover Y/n's mouth.

The rubber material of the palm of the man's glove muffled any noise Y/n tried to make, which wasn't much at all, because Y/n knew more than anyone that screaming wouldn't change a thing.

The Swine hadn't pulled a knife yet, which had to be some sort of a good sign, but still, he had Y/n restrained scarily quick, straddling his thighs to keep his legs down and pinning his hands above his head.

Y/n's heart felt as if it was going to beat past his ribcage, his legs exhausted from straining against The Swine. If he could make enough noise to wake Chris, he could be saved, but, then again, with how strong this guy seemed to be...

Y/n couldn't breathe. Well, he could, but each inhale shook and he felt as if he was falling a long way down, his stomach and heart plummeting down a steep cliff.

Then, there was a default ring tone coming from the masked man's hoodie pocket. The Swine shifted to press his knee against Y/n's chest, making him wheeze as he seemed to put 85% of his body weight onto the considerably smaller man. On the bright side, he did let go of Y/n's wrists.

Surprisingly, The Swine accepted the call after taking one look at the caller ID, and even more shocking was the fact that he put it on speaker.

"Hey, Rabbit," The man spoke. The mask muffled his voice beyond recognition, or at least more than Y/n's strictly adrenaline fueled mind could register.

The voice that responded was robotic, like a text-to-speech.

"I have someone for you to get," It said, and the male on top of Y/n sighed dramatically.

"I'm kinda in the middle of something." Y/n tried to push his knee off of his chest, which was surely going to bruise, unsuccessfully.

"I don't care. It's her," The robot replied, failing to explain till The Swine asked.

"Gonna have to be more specific than that, Rab," The man sighed, rubbing the bridge of.. his.. mask's.. snout?

"Molly."

"The drug?"

"No, the person."

"So..?"

"Molly Klein."

"Oh. Wait, you want me to get the bitch that you're falling for? I'm kinda with my guy right now-"

"I don't care. She's stronger than me and Peacock isn't feeling well. And don't call her a bitch."

"So he's high? Anyway, ask someone else. I'm busy," The Swine decided to ignore the bitch part. Y/n grew increasingly confused with a regretful sense of relief. He hoped that The Swine would listen to whoever this Rabbit guy is and leave.

"No. You know everything about this boy. You can visit him anytime. And she's right in your area," Rabbit 'spoke.'

"What do I get for doing this?"

"I can send you more of that footag-"

"Deal," The masked man spoke over the Rabbit's weird text-to-speech voice before it finished its sentence.

Y/n couldn't move with the man's knee planted firmly on his upper body, effectively crushing him against the bed. At least, he wasn't being cut in half. He could appreciate that, right?

The Swine hung up the phone without a good-bye and stuffed it back into his pocket, the beady, artificial eyes of his realistic pig mask returning to Y/n.

"Well, sorry, sweet-cheeks, gotta cut our little visit short. I'm sure we'll have much longer next time, sound good?" The Swine said, his tone doing all the smirking for him.

Y/n, a tad stupidly, shook his head. A next time sounded horrible.

"I thought you'd respond like that." The Swine slid off the bed, keeping his hand over Y/n's mouth. "Well, whatever. It can't be helped."

The Swine shrugged, then left the room. Just.. straight out of his bedroom door. Into the main room. Was that where he entered from? I guess it'd be hard to get through a window this high up... but how'd he get in?

Y/n paused. Why was he thinking about that of all things? He could've died just then. He was saved by a phone call.

Y/n inhaled sharply, holding a hand over his chest while breathing in and out in hopes to regulate his borderline hyperventilating. Maybe he was in a state of shock.

He'd just been pinned down by a serial killer who took a phone call mid-attempted murder (or whatever that was) and then left through his bedroom door.

Y/n didn't know how to go about this. Should he... call the police? Yes, definitely call the police. But, would they believe him? It was a bit insane. Having his house broken into wasn't anything unusual with how the years had been passing, but the killer leaving without hurting him or, presumably, taking anything?

That reminded him... he should probably check on Chris.

...Nah.

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