Chanyeol’s been busy.

When Baekhyun left for work that morning, their apartment had a respectable amount of festive decorations. Some gel clings on the windows and mirrors, spiderweb table runners—although they don’t use runners or doilies the rest of the year—a plastic flamingo skeleton in the pot of the tree Chanyeol has been devoutly watering and fertilizing.

Now, mere hours later, Baekhyun is greeted by a skeleton reaching for his ankle beside the walkway to their back door. As well as the main front entrance, all first-floor apartments have rear patio doors that open to cement sidewalks and public garden space.

The immediate Byun-Park yard is a cemetery site of the reanimated undeads’ awakening. Even the patio glass has distinct red smears from desperate hands trying to claw in—or out—of the apartment.

Baekhyun slides the door closed behind him, immediately flinching as a cool breeze breathes on his nape, and kicks his shoes aside. “Chanyeol? You’ve been busy. Was this ordered over time, or are we facing one massive online shopping bill?”

No response.

His boyfriend may have tired himself out—

—except he’s not in their bedroom or sprawled across the sofa. There’s no note on the bathroom mirror; no missed text or call on his phone.

While he’s no worrywart, it is nice to know when Chanyeol is going out. Then Baekhyun can call him right away when he finds their apartment unlocked with two dogs holding full bladders dancing eagerly.

He almost feels bad, as Mongryong pees on the ankle of one lumbering skeleton. Toben seeks the privacy of a plastic tombstone to squat. Baekhyun bags the business and tosses it in the clean up station trash can in the middle of the greenspace.

Back inside, with calmer furbabies, Baekhyun calls Chanyeol. The familiar giggling ringtone that Chanyeol had recorded bubbles from the top of the toilet tank.

So his phone is home, but he is not.

Maybe he went for a run.

He usually takes the dogs.

“Chanyeol?” Baekhyun calls out again, picking apart bits of fake green spider webbing as the dogs help him search by sniffing the furniture and pile of shoes. “You jerk, you’d better not be hiding…!” He shudders, very aware of the unlocked door and handprints.

From the back door, it’s a clear hall to the front through the living room and kitchen. There’s a small room with the water heater on the other side of the kitchen, next to the front door, and a large hall closet across from that. The bathroom is beside the closet, with a short, pointless hall that opens to the bedroom.

Baekhyun goes to the front door, planning on waiting for his boyfriend in the apartment lobby, reconsiders it and turns around, then stops and bites his fingers in thought.

Maybe he should go look for Chanyeol, rather than just waiting. If he’s out without his phone, and something happened, he’d have no way of calling for help. His wallet is still on their dresser, too, so he doesn’t have his ID or money or anything.

As he’s considering every awful possibility, he notices movement in the bathroom mirror. A tall, masked person creeps behind him, neck and chest torn open, reaching for his shoulder with bloodied fingers.

Baekhyun grabs his wrist and elbow, bending as he pulls to drag the stranger off their feet and over his back. They land—hard—on their back with a solid thud; their heel bangs into and through the wall, catching so they lay with one leg extended and trapped.

“Baek… Happy Halloween?” They groan, curling slowly into themselves like a pillbug.

“Chanyeol?” Dropping to a crouch, he rips the latex mask from his boyfriend’s head and tosses it aside. It slaps against the wall and falls in a heap. The shrill squeak of pain as some hair is torn with the mask is small consolation, and he scowls at Chanyeol's pained grin. “I really should kill you and use your corpse as a decoration.”

“You're nothing if not authentic, but please don’t; I love you. I’d have to haunt you, and that’s not as fun…” He winces and tries to shift his leg. “I think my foot is broken, though.” Toben and Mongryong scuttle between their humans, offering them both consoling and eager kisses.

Baekhyun catches his wriggly Corgi before he climbs onto his lap and stands to lift Chanyeol’s foot out of its hole. If they can find some DIY instructions online, maybe their landlord will never know. “It’s fine, you stupid baby, but you’re paying to repair the wall...”

“I deserve that.” Chanyeol pushes himself upright and examines his foot. There will be a marvelous bruise later, but he can still feel and move his toes, so that’s a good sign. “I am sorry for scaring you; it was supposed to be a joke… Baekhyun?” He’s not moved since removing Chanyeol’s foot. “Babe, you alright? Shock settling in?”

“This isn’t one of yours, is it…” It’s not a question, but even if it was, it’d still be curious.

With a bit of difficulty, Chanyeol gets onto his knees and shuffles to peek into the hole in the wall.

A desiccated face smiles back. How neighborly.

Chanyeol grabs the back of Baekhyun’s sweatshirt, pulling him to the floor and scooting back until their backs hit the kitchen island.

“No… No, that is not one of mine…”