HAE POV. 

I ha never been so nervous of what was behind a door. There are hardly any times when I'm nervous at all but while I stare at that lifeless piece of wood with voices coming from behind it that my ears strained to hear- maybe it was because the house was soundproof or maybe because I was loosing my heightened senses again. I hoped for the first thought. I ws standing between Luhan and Lay, Sehun was behind me and Suho was in front of me- caging me in. Suho twisted the knob and let out a cheerful 'we're back!' As if we had just nipped out to the shops for a day. He was met with silence and I was met with stares. Chen looked up from his game console for around a second then focused back on his game. D.O actually didn't look up from his phone but beside him was Kai staring at me openly. Some others mimicked his stare at me and I had the usual glares from some. Kris was had the fiercest yet with his piercing, dark eyes as a cigerette hung from his lips; not yet lit. I was still to see a day go by without him smoking one. 

"So we've brought Hae back," Suho awkwardly broke the silence. 

"Hae?" This time D.O did look up from his phone and confusion was shown on his face as he looked at me. 

"Yes- Hae," Suho sent him a warning look as if telling him not to ask anything. 

The next week was a slow one, I didn't fit in and everyone in the house could tell. I wasn't much when it came to conversation- I don't have much to say. I stuck out like a sore thumb among them- not talking, not interacting at all, not sitting with them, not laughing just wandering. It was all I felt comfortable doing, just aimlessly wanderling through their house in Korea. It was similar to the one in China but it was a lot smaller. I didn't like permanent residence, it just felt like a cage and I was on edge at all times, someone could figure out that I was the notorious murderer roaming the streets all over Asia- draining blood from my victims without mercy. They could tell the police, who would warn the government who would send out a swat team. I could imagine it now- all dressed in black with bullet-proof shaking while they hold rifles in the air. The black vans parked behind them while we faced off in front of the apartment. They would stare deeply into my crazed eyes as I wiped the blood from my lips, I would make a fighting stance and the commander would bark out orders and all at once they would shoot at me. Numerous shots would push me back but I wouldn't feel anything; just that burning sensation in my throat crying out for that metallic taste. Soon they would shoot me enough to bring me down to my knees and for a split second I would glance back. The 12 would be watching from inside the apartment, standing close to eachother in a comforting way as they looked down with disgust and disappointment on their faces. A part of them would be glad that they would've have to chase me down anymore. Maybe they would feel sad for a couple days; but ultimately move on with their lives like I had never been a part of it. 

"Do you like it?"

I turned to face the man who interupted my imaginings. Xiumin's eyes flickered from my face to the wall I had been facing, then back to my face. I looked back to see what I had lost myself in my thoughts in, it was a painting hanging up on the wall that I really didn't notice. This was obviously what he was asking me about, it was a small painting and pictured a building on fire. Thick dark smoke blurred the sky and drowned out the blue, the grey boring building was being scorched by hot, red flames that stood out vibrantly. 

"Chanyeol painted it," He kept filling in the blanks where I didn't speak. 

I was surprised, he didn't seem the type to paint depressing images. He didn't seem the type to be anything but happy, this side of him was unknown to me. I found myself nodding at Xiumin's question. 

"There's more around the house, it's kind of like his gallery but he keeps most of them in his room. He's very private about it," He said. 

I wonder what else he depicted, would they all be like this? Or was this one a one off original from a bad day he was having and this was the result of stress relief. 

"Dinner's nearly ready- well nearly here, we've ord