𝑅𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈-ᴄʜᴇɴʟᴇ

Float~60

Felix was as limp as a sack of potatoes, and was barely lifted from the ground by Han as his eyes drooped riskily, dangerously close to fainting from drastic blood loss as a pool of blood stained the floor beneath him. Rin couldn't even tell if he was still alive, yet when a pained, subtle groan exited his lips, his consciousness was confirmed, making her feel even worse as she learned that he was aware of all of the pain that rived through his body.

Quickly helping Han came Seungmin, hoisting Felix's other arm around his neck, and the pair supported the faint boy- sluggishly pulling him away as Felix's feet uselessly dragged behind them, leaving a trail of blood on the floor.

Soon, Stray Kids was gone, and Rin was left, terrified, on the floor.

Rin felt no motivation to rise from her slumped position as her glazed eyes blankly stared at the ceiling, refusing to glance towards the side where a Chan's corpse laid.

The putrid, horrid scent of metallic blood coated the house like its own, unique fragrance, as if it's owners sprayed gore instead of Febreze to freshen the air.

It encased her fully, reminding her of what she was too weak to prevent, and she felt suffocated by the rancid smell of it as it hung in the air. Even the oxygen she breathed tasted of decomposition, and even though her vision was blurred by tears, she could almost swear she could see death drifting through the atmosphere.

Falling to the side as a chill creeped over her, Rin pulled her knees to her chest as she gazed endlessly into oblivion, feeling as if a hole had formulated where her heart was meant to be, leaving her feeling cold and empty.

The tears that constantly fell from her eyelashes never ceased, but her face had gone slack; she looked utterly deadpan as droplets of emotion streamed down her skin, and if her eyes weren't dampened, anyone could mistake her for a normal, happy teenager.

But she wasn't.

"Can someone help me over here?" Jaemin groaned, but Rin didn't move in the slightest.

Chenle's eyes flickered towards the boy, sighing tiredly as his gaze lingered over him.

Jaemin had managed to prop himself up against the wall behind the crooked, haphazard table and scattered chairs, and he hadn't left that spot in quite a while.

Jaemin's brow-line was coated by a layer of thick, clammy sweat, and his face was red- looking as if he had just ran ten miles before he ended up before them, breathing slightly labored.

Both of his hands were clamped tightly over his calf as blood seeped through the gaps between his fingers, dripping onto the floor carelessly, shaking subtly as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

He felt faint from lack of blood, and he was dangerously lightheaded, fearing that he would lose consciousness at any moment.

A searing, indescribable pain rived through Jaemin's nerves, and the throes that seared through his flesh was utter torment, feeling as if he was dying, which wasn't entirely incorrect.

If untreated, Jaemin would bleed out, but as of now, he was breathing, and that's all that mattered.

Chenle quickly assessed Jaemin's injury before he stuck his pistol into his waistband, unbothered by the ridiculous amounts of blood that consumed his carpeted floor.