#got7nett

“Wh-What? Lieutenant–”, he faltered, letting his hands fall beside his body.

“Just a feeling. An instinct–”, you mutter vaguely, offering him a shrug.

Jinyoung breathes out tiredly.

“Lieutenant…”, he starts, “I used to think only I hated when you said things like this, but I’ve noticed it’s a unanimous feeling. People hate when you say something about this instinct of yours, it’s scary!”

“Me included”, you reply vaguely, adding a strangled sigh as you try to put the pieces together, making sure you’re not missing anything, “What do we have so far?”

Jinyoung dutifully walks you through the information gathered, the doctor adds more facts.. It feels like a promising day, alright.

⁎ ⁎ ⁎

You look up when someone knocks on your table.

“We’re going out for lunch”, your Captain announces, walking around your table to take a better look at the files you have scattered before you, “Obsessive as always”

Although his words are a reprimand you can hear the compliment undertone he applies to them. He shifted his weight on his feet, taking a closer look at the files you have on your table.

“What are those?”

You slide one of the file to him and leans back on your seat, massaging your closed eyelids.

“Someone I know owned me a favor”, you confess while opening your eyes.

You see him flipping the file to look at the department’s name, not minding his troubled and rather upset expression, you show him the photos and your Captain snaps his eyes to look at you, inspecualting.

“This case belongs to narcotics, what are you up to?”

“Daeun’s case.” You starts, “Something seems off.”

“Y/n, you can’t compare the daughter of CEO Kim Shin Il with those druggies!”

“Captain–”, you insist, pulling the files for comparison, “Most injuries match and the disposal location as well and the prostitutes aren’t the only ones–”, he interrupts you in a hurry

“Forget this”, he snaps and starts closing the files, putting them in a pile, “I’m retiring, and you will be promoted soon, we don’t need to stir shit up, Y/n”, he leaves only the CEO’s daughter file open on top of the others and taps the photo of the girl’s ID attached to he files, “After lunch we’ll have the warrant for her boyfriend’s house. It’ll be over before you know it”

“But, Captain! Something is definitely wrong here”, you try dissuading him and pulls out Kim Da Eun’s boyfriend mugshot, “I doesn’t make sense!” You hand him the paper, tapping it energetically as you speak on, “How can a narcissistic girl like Da Eun date a penniless man who walks around like a homeless–”, he interrupts you

“How would I know? It could be another trend, who knows?”

“Captain, do you really believe that?” You defy him, staring into his eyes with your hands on your waist and the two of you simply stare at each other for a moment, “Captain–”, you try again once both of you calm down, “I know something’s off about this.”

“Y/n-ah~”, he calls your attention in a rather affectionate way that comes out as bothersome, “I told you before. You can’t solve every case trusting your guts”, he insists, “Sometimes it doesn’t work and when that happens–”, he sighs

He steps closer, placing his hands on your shoulders, shaking you a little, but still looking in your eyes.

“Y/n! Don’t do this”, he warns you, “Think about Minjoo~, huh?” He tries in a dissuading tone and pats your shoulders before letting go of you, “Let’s go eat something, it’s my treat”

It’s not that you don’t understand his mindset. You want this to be that simple, you want it to be just a simple case of an abusive boyfriend jealousy as much as your Captain. This way the case you would be off your hands and you could move on to the next one on the pile resting on the other side of your table.

There isn’t much time left for your Captain’s retirement and your promotion to take his place and both of you are excited for this for different reasons. He has his business planned to stay alongside his family and enjoy his supposed old age papering his grandkids. As a side effect of being taken under your captain’s wings is knowing his family very closely as if you’re part of it, Seungho is his eldest grandkid, only a year older than Minjoo and they go to the same daycare, you’re friends with his mother, your captain’s oldest daughter.

So, yeah, you know everything you need to about him wanting to settle down and he knows all your reasons too. Keeping a low profile is a must in such a crucial moment in this career, but you just can’t look away from what’s in front of you, not when you have such a golden chance in your hands to make this work not just for the CEO’s daughter, but for the others too.

*** 

Your phone buzzes on your desk and the screen displays Hakyeon’s ID along with his picture, one that has him holding Minjoo during her last birthday party, and although the sound is subdued in the noisy room you’re not completely alienated to it, however you decide to ignore it, focusing on the files you have in hand, instead. Trying to connect the dots, because you know something off about this case, you know there must be a connection somewhere and if there is, you better find it fast before it’s too late to do anything about it.

“Lieutenant?” You look up to see Wonshik waiting for you expectantly by your desk, “They got Kim Da Eun’s boyfriend. They’re taking him to the interrogation room right now”, he pants

You jump on your feet and make sure to lock the files you’ve been reading in the lowest drawer on your desk before scooping your phone from your desk and walking hurried steps with Wonshik by your side.

“Who’s with him?”

“Detective Park”, he speaks respectfully

“Jinyoung?”

“Yes”, he nods

“Good”, you mutter more to yourself, then to him, “Did he say anything?”

“Aside from pleading innocence? No, sir.”

“Of course.”

He follows you into the room next to the interrogation room where some of the other detectives are gathered along with the Captain.

“How is it going?” You ask, moving to stand right in front of the two way mirror

“They gave us an alibi”, you Captain speaks, “We’re checking on it”, he adds with eyes glued on the scene unfolding behind the two-way mirror

“Brand named clothes and shoes. Limited edition, artesanal wrist watch…”, Jinyoung clicks his tongue, “You certainly is a high maintenance man”

“Why? Jealous?”, Jongup provokes, “I heard a cop’s pay off is real shit”, he adds, squinting his nose in disgust

“Still better than being a prostitute”

“Wow-wow-wow! Where did that came from?”

“Well, let me see–”, Jinyoung starts sarcastically, leaning back on his chair with arms crossed over his chest, “You’re unemployed and a complete nobody that ran errands for a low-life thug a few weeks ago, then out of nowhere you meet Kim Da Eun. Rich girl with a powerful father. Then, suddenly, you move to a better apartment and starts dressing like a well-bred bastard, except–”, this time Jinyoung’s the one who squints in disgust, “You have a horrible taste”

“I’m not a prostitute! What the fuck?”, Jongup replies outraged, “I’m a personal assistant, ‘lright?”

Jinyoung scoffs much like you on the other side of that mirror, most of the other detectives shake their heads in incredulity.

“Yeah, sure”, you hear someone say, somewhere behind you

“A personal assistant? You?”, Jongup nods insistently

Jinyoung keeps his eyes on Jongup as he opens the file on the table and only looks down to read.

“Moon Jong Up. 23 years old. Barely concluded middle school in a countryside town, the middle of nowhere–”, Jinyoung nudges the file away and looks up again, “How are you a personal assistant for people like Kim Da Eun and her friends?”

“I’m very good at what I do”, Jongup smirks with a careless shrug

“Two people testified that you were Kim Da Eun’s boyfriend, Jongup. Now–”, Jinyoung leans forward again, with his elbows on the table, “You can’t blame me for assuming you’re a prostitute. It’s the best case scenario for you to date a girl like her, even though we both know she could do much better. We understand her friends didn’t want to taint her memory by saying that, but still–”

“Alright, man. Just– stop right there”, Jongup asks in annoyed, raising both hands before dropping them loudly on his lap, “I wasn’t dating her or anything. She was a spoiled, manipulative, annoying bitch. Not exactly my type of fuck, no”

“Then why were you have pointing fingers saying that you were her boyfriend”

Jongup sighs in exasperation, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“The fuck should I know? All I do is fixing parties for these crazy rich kids, man”

“Then, how come Kim Da Eun spent three days in your apartment?”, Jinyoung doesn’t lose a beat and Jongup takes a deep breathe, tonguing the teeth at the back of his mouth and rolling his head with eyes closed.

There’s a silent in the room and Jinyoung nudges his chair closer to the table in between them and smacks his hand very loudly on top of the files, regaining Jongup’s attention in a instant.

“Hey!”, Jinyoung speaks on the top of his lungs and Jongup stares at him, but it’s obvious he wants to look away, “You’re about to be charged with murder.”, Jongup looks away, “Look at me!”

“He definitely knows something”, your captain speaks up

“C’mon.”, you mutter more to yourself than to anyone else in the room, “C’mon, speak up.”

There’s a silence in the room for a moment. Jinyoung watches the Jongup very closely, while Jongup looks everywhere but Jinyoung.

“Jongup”, Jinyoung calls, “Why did you murdered Kim Da Eun?”

“What the–”, Jongup protests comes out as a groan, “I didn’t murder anyone!”

Jinyoung starts talking again, but your attention is robbed by Wonshik, who walks in and hands you a file. You scan the file, reading the report as fast as you can before handing over to you Captain. Dong Il reads and curses under his breath.

“His alibi checks out”, you say in deception before speaking into the microphone, to Jinyoung, “Come over”

Jinyoung leaves Jongup alone in the room with a threatening remark and meets you with the rest of the team inside the two-way mirror room.

“What is it?” He asks as soon as he steps in.

“His alibi checks out”, you repeat and your captain pushes the file on Jinyoung’s chest while you lean on the table behind you with your arms crossed over your chest in annoyance.

“We confirmed he was arrested two days ago for fighting a VVIP member of the Lotus nightclub.”

“How did he got in a place like that?” Jinyoung asks in annoyance

“Even if he worked for Golden Tiger himself he’d need a high status in the syndicate to get in that club”, you comment

“He was a guest for a private party”, the detective makes a pause, “For Kim Da Eun”

“Apparently Jongup and the other guy was hurt pretty bad. They all went to the hospital, Kim Da Eun too. Kim Da Eun and her friend pressed charges against Jongup”, Wonshik explains, “They left and not too long after he was taken into custody by the Department of Organized Crimes, he stayed with them for two days”

“So, we’re back to square one?” Jinyoung asks

“This Kim Da Eun’s friend is the son of one of Kim Shin Il’s associates. I’ll call the judge, he won’t show up unless we summon him”, you add, “Go back there and try to find something about this other guy and that fight. If he didn’t mention anything about it, then he’s definitely hiding something”

Jinyoung motions his head before leaving the room and you watch him start the interrogation again before leaving the room with your phone in hand. You don’t notice your Captain following you.

“I’m relieved”, he speaks up with a smile and you raise your eyebrows in confusion, “The next Captain is competent”

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything, just walks away. Whistling his favorite tune with his hands in his pockets and it’s only when he’s quite far that you let it sink in and smiles to yourself at the thought before going back to what you were doing.

It takes some talk and some convincing, but once you get the okay from the judge, you go back to the room, to watch the interrogation.

“We confirmed it was your blood on Kim Da Eun’s hands… literally. So, I’m pretty sure we can hold you here”, Jinyoung states

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, Jongup protests, “I already told you!”, he speaks loud in frustration looking at Jinyoung, before looking at you, “There was a fight at the club, I got hurt and she got… dirty. That crazy bitch”

He whispers the last part to himself and abruptly stands up to lift his shirt up his torso to show the cut, the blood on the wound soaking the bandages.

“Sit down!” Jinyoung commands, stepping further into the room and slamming the file on the table, but he stays standing up

“You see this?” Jongup points at the wound, “It was two days ago and it’s bleeding again because you people keep assaulting me”

“You’re the one getting worked up”, Jinyoung clarifies  in a low, threatening tone, “Now, sit. Down.”

If it was either Jinyoung’s piercing glare or the way he spoke in a yet darker tone, hissing the words with jaw tightened that made Jongup swallow hard and obey, you don’t know. But it works quite a lot.

“I was in jail! I was in a cell for almost two days”, he starts again, more quiet this time

“We already know that part. Tell why you fought with that other guy”, Jinyoung presses and Jongup goes silent again, “Are you scared of losing your sponsor or something?”

“Look. You don’t mess with people like him, okay?”

“Why? Why is so scary about him? Huh?”, Jinyoung smiles, leaning further on the table and closer Jongup, “I’ll make this clear. We won’t have nothing to hold against you if you just say what you know about this guy”

Jinyoung slides a printed screencap from a CCTV from the file, towards Jongup. Keeping his eyes locked with the other’s.

“Just tell me what you know about the guy and we can let you go”

Jongup hesitates before looking at the photo other table, his eyes shift between the photo and Jinyoung. He presses his lips and looks away, lost in thoughts for a moment.

“I’m–”, Jongup hesitates, “I’m not saying he killed her, ‘lright?”, the fear and hesitation is more than clear as he speaks, stealing glances at Jinyoung

“Why? Do you think he could murder Kim Da Eun?”

“I don’t know, man…”

“Hey, Moon Jongup!” Jinyoung calls, loud and clear, “Look at me. Speak clearly.”, he commands

Jongup does as he’s told. When he starts speaking again he’s still hesitating and biting down on his lips, but at least he’s looking back at Jinyoung.

“All I know is that he’s a twisted bastard”, Jongup speaks up, “Mr. Kim wanted his daughter to date this dude, but Da Eun came to me–”

“To you?” Jinyoung asked skeptically

“All I know is that she wanted someone to protect her from this crazy-ass dude. She was scared of him”

“Did she tell you why?” Jongup hesitates to answer, “Jongup!”

“I told you, he’s crazy”, Jongup halts

“How?”

“He’s a controlling freak. A total psycho, I’m telling you”

Sometimes comes to your mind and you reach for the microphone again.

“Jinyoung, ask if Kim Da Eun was being abused by her boyfriend”, there a pause while you stand back and Jinyoung asks

“You bet. Just ask anyone, if you make sure he won’t do anything to them, they might speak up too. Or just check on his ex-girlfriend.”

“So why did Kim Da Eun choose you?”

“Because she knows I’m good at what I do”

“You were a low-life thug.”

“Exactly–”, Jongup motions his head with a shrug, “I’m good at what I do”, he repeats himself

“Then, what happened?” Jinyoung presses in urgency

“The guy is like a vicious dog”, Jongup stresses clearly, tapping his index finger on the table to make the gravity of his words worth, “He came to the club and tried to take her away, calling her all kinds of stuff, trying to drag her away–  He was high on something. I tried protecting her–my job, remember? But the crazy son of a bitch cut me open with a fucking broken bottle”

“You said he was high–”, Jinyoung insists, “Is he addicted to any illicit drug?”

Jongup scoffs. “Why? Do I get extra points if I answer that one?”

“It doesn’t matter. We have what we need to get the playboy over”, you say out loud to the others, “Wonshik, go check on the summon the judge is supposed to send. I’ll be on my desk.”

This is heading down the same path, only now the person to have fingers pointed at is different. You know quite well, how this might end, but you can’t take those files locked in a drawer out of your head. You know there’s something about it that connects everything.

“Minjoo, can you help mom?” She glances up at you interested in doing something by herself.

“What, mom?”

“Can you hold this for me? And Dodo too.”

She smiles widely as you give her a plastic bag with a half empty bottle of water and some snacks you bought earlier. You give her Dodo too, her favorite toy as well and that’s enough to make her happy, gladly holding everything as if it’s of ultimate importance..

You try your best to balance the heavy boxes while guiding Minjoo the rows of cars in the underground garage until the two of you stop in front of the elevator’s door and she tiptoes to press the button, offering you a wide, proud smile afterwards. You smile back at her and pat her head.

“Thank you!”

As soon as the doors open you urge her to go in first before you step in and presses the button to the floor you’re heading to and the doors close.

“Are you hungry?” She nods, “How’d you like a pizza for dinner today?”

“Really?” She asks excitedly, jumping in place, not minding for being inside an elevator. You try your best to hold her still when she starts jumping, “Is daddy coming here too? Can I call him now?”

“Honey.” You start carefully, “Dad is not coming today.”

“When is dad coming?” She asks, looking uo at you with her head tilted to the side. With her wondering eyes that makes your heart ache, “Dad likes pizza too, mommy.”

“I know, baby” You say complacently and forces a smile, “You can have pizza when you see him, then”

“When?”

“He’ll come to see you soon”

“No!” She stomps her foot, “I want to go home and eat pizza with daddy!”

You can feel the frustration building up, you can see Minjoo’s about to cry. But before anything could start the elevator doors open and you have to hold her back in case she decided to get off since this is not where you’re going.

“Good morning.” The guy walking in greets you politely.

“Good morning.” You greet him back.

He seems to be in his college years, wearing a simple black-and-write striped long-sleeved shirt and a pair of dark over worn jeans pants. He reaches for the panel to press a floor’s button, but stops midway, pressing the button to close the door instead before standing quietly in his place. He shrugs his backpack on his shoulder.

You discreetly observe him, recognize him as Kwon Taekwoon, he’s your neighbor. You looked him up at work, he has a clean record. His clothes are clearly messy, loose ends hanging here and there from his black long-sleeved shirt and beaten-up denim. His dyed brown hair, parted sideways and rather messingly falling on his face.

“Would you like some help?” He asks, pointing at the boxes you’re carrying.

“Ah, yes, thank you. The one on the top, please”

“I’ll take this one too”, he offers. Take two of the boxes, you like the fact that you can see everything much better now.

Problem is, as soon as the doors open again, Minjoo steps out and thankfully this is where your new apartment are. Taekwoon follows shortly after.

“Cha Minjoo, don’t run!” She stops immediately and you can see Taekwoon chuckling at the little girl’s attics.

You know anyone would be amused by your daughter’s doings. The little daredevil is always looking for trouble, more than a little girl like her normally would. There’s no denying got that from you. Hakyeon is much more cautious. Distracted by her attempt to walk fast without running she lets her beloved Dodo fall from the bag she was keeping him in just before rushing past the apartment’s door. Taekwoon stops to get it for her ans you sigh.

“Minjoo, be careful.” You call, “Come back!”

She looks back and starts running back to Taekwoon who’s holding her Dodo.

“How do you say it?”

“Thank you”, she says, taking the plushie from Taekwoon’s hand.

Taekwoon shakes his head holding a simple smile that fits him a little too perfectly, he reaches to pat her head affectionately.

“You’re welcome”, he replies softly, making her giggle.

“Thank you, sorry for the trouble.”

“No problem, really. I know kids tend to be excited during big changes and moving happens to be one of them”, he says as you open the door to your apartment.

The sound of the door is a little rather loud compared to your old home. You don’t know want to start comparing, everything here is much lesser than the luxury of Hakyeon’s place. You’re payroll is significantly lower than his. One of the many things Minjoo would need to get used to.

You watch her rush inside with her Dodo, leaving the bag with groceries on the way. You place the boxes down. The place is a complete mess, unorganized mobilia here and there, boxes everywhere.

“Minjoo, be careful”, you warn her before turning to Taekwoon still carrying the boxes inside, “Sorry for the mess”, you say as Taekwoon walks in

“Where should I put this?”

“Just anywhere, nothing is organized yet”

Minjoo rushes back with another toy she found somewhere.

“Mom will buy pizza! Do you want pizza too?”

“I don’t think-”

“It’ll be my way to thank you”, you add before he could refuse

“Alright, then”

“I don’t have a table yet, so, I hope you don’t mind the kitchen counter instead”

“It’s usually where I eat in my apartment as well”, he replies as you reach for your phone.

Minjoo seems to have forgotten had her moody behavior around Taekwoon and different from most kids his age, he knew how to deal with her. You normally wouldn’t let your daughter close to a stranger, you job has a side effect - being suspicious of almost everyone you don’t know. But, Taekwoon doesn’t make you be on your defensive mode.

When the pizza arrives Taekwoon helps her on her seat.

“What’d you like to drink?” You ask him after putting the pizza box on the counter, away from Minjoo just so she won’t reach for it just yet.

“Just– whatever you’re having…”

“Orange juice?”

“It’s good for me”, he replies.

“I want orange juice too, mommy!”

“Yes”, you reply with a smile, filling her cup before Taekwoon’s and yours.

It’s somewhere late into the afternoon when you bid him goodbye, time just seem to pass so fast with Taekwoon around, he made it easy to handle Minjoo too, although he does spoil her a bit.

“I’m sorry for taking so much of your time today”

“Don’t mention it”, he waves his hand dismissively, “Actually, I should be saying sorry for sticking around for too long”, he faces distorts a little in a shameful smile

“You helped a lot”, you smile back at him reassuringly, “Specially with Minjoo”, he hums

“My brother has a boy around her age. I tend to babysit a lot”, he explains with a shrug

“Will you come back and play again?” Your daughter asks stepping between the two of you

“Sure!”

Taekwoon walks back to his apartment after giving the little Minjoo a high-five and smoothing out her tousled hair. Problem is, after Taekwoon is gone and Minjoo is sleeping, you’re left alone with your toxic thoughts and memories. Your phone screen lights up on the sofa while you have your sleeves rolled up, opening some of the boxes. You push yourself up and see the lit up screen with your Captain’s ID showing. You frown, today should be your day off.

“Lieutenant Song”, you answer sarcastically

“How’re you doing?” You place your hand on your hip, noticing his beating-around-the-bush tone. You hear loud voice and a huge mess going on in the background.

“Fine”, you say without meaning,”What’s wrong?” You sit down, letting yourself rest against the sofa, reaching up one of your hands to push your hair off your neck in a loose bun.

“The Commander wants you here”, you frown, leaning forwards, with your elbows in your thighs.

“The Commander?”, you ask confused, knowing how that man dislikes you, “Why me?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” You hear as a reply, more comfortable with your Captain’s impatient tone, “I don’t like this either, but-” You know he wouldn’t finish that sentece, “Have you see the news?”

“No, what happened?” You look for the controller, forgetting the TV is not on yet. You don’t even know where the remote is,“Alright, I’m on my way. I just have to find someone to keep an eye on Minjoo.” You say shooting up from the sofa.

“Y/n?”

“Yes.” You can hear he’s walking away as the loud noises coming from the other end of the line dies down

He sighs. “Nothing.”

You’d know what he’d say, and you know he can’t see, but you nod to yourself either way.

“Okay.” You reply, “I know, Captain. I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up and you look at Minjoo, playing by herself with some of her toys. You still not sure how you’re gonna make this work. You phone buzzes and you see a text message from himwith the address of the place you should go.

The first person you think of is Hakyeon, you know he’s at home. You left him there, you had to go through something you don’t want to touch so soon in a few minutes ago. You look down at your phone, scrolling through the contacts and hesitates to pass by his name. You don’t feel emotionally ready for whatever’s waiting for you if you make this call.

You’re not even settled in your new home, you don’t want to feel more alienated to it like you are right now. You look at Minjoo again, playing quietly by herself, something that is not like her. You know how she feels, it’s… Not yet home, but you know it’s just a matter of time and effort. That’s all.

“Minjoo, do you want anything?”

“No”, she replies quietly while still playing

You reach for the pack of cigarettes you brought earlier along with Minjoo’s snack and walk to the balcony, leaving the curtains drawn open just so you can see her from there. You had stopped. It was bad for you, but you can’t resist it now. You lean on the balcony’s railing as you take a long drag, thinking about how the view is nothing compared to what you had before.

.

***

You put on the siren on the top of your car and drives as fast as you can knowing Minjoo is tightly wrapped in her chair on the backseat to reach your brother’s place that is not so close from yours. He doesn’t ask questions - you’d hear an earful from your mom if you went there instead -, you’re lucky he’s home and Minjoo is always happy to stay with her uncle. Your brother watches you drive off even faster now.

The site is has people everywhere, you have to push through many curious people and the media that gathered around the place and surprisingly to reach the restricted area. You see the youngest detective in your department there and half smiles, surprised by seeing him there. He meets you as soon as you step in the perimeter and salutes you unnecessarily, like the other officer guarding the area do. You can’t avoid noticing the cold sweat streaming down his temple.

“Wonshik!”

You place your arm around his shoulders mindlessly, turning you both away from the cameras and walking into the perimeter while some officer takes his place.

“Kid, if you stand there all pale and traumatized, how do you think they’ll understand things? Huh?”

He tilts his head up to look at you surprised and shocked.

“I didn’t mean to–”, he stutters, “I didn’t think I look like that, Lieutenant Song. I swear I–”, you give him a half smile and pats his shoulder

“Don’t sweat it. But, you have to get used to it, y’know”

“Yes, sir”, you nod and walk away.

“Why’re you not helping your partner?”You look around, pulling your arm back just in time to see said person rushing to meet you, not hiding his surprise.

“Lieutenant Song?” Jinyoung approaches, confused, “What are you doing here?”, he meets you halfway and the two of you walk side by side

“Sorry to disappoint”, you say nonchalantly as the three of you walk towards the direction he just came

“Don’t get me wrong, but shouldn’t you be getting settled in the new place?”

“I can’t afford unpaid vacations”, you say mockingly, not too amused by the thought itself and he chuckles at the thought

Someone arrives and the media goes loud once again, you turn around to look at the mess when one of the officers pushes his way past the mass of people trying to corner him for answer.

“No wonder the Captain’s in hurry”, you mutter before looking back at Jinyoung, “They seem excited”

Jinyoung scoffs. “I see the Captain haven’t told you a word about it”

“About what?”

Jinyoung’s crooked smile makes you frown, you know he has a rather wicked sense of humor. You follow him to where the body still lays, but you can see the coroner approaching already in the opposite distance.

“You okay?”

You look back to see Wonshik already feeling sick while forcing himself to look at the gruesome image in front of him. He shrugs attempting to seem casual, but failing miserably.

“Seriously, you have to get used to it”, you advise, “Or I can get you behind a desk”

“No”, he replies politely, trying to get a hold of yourself, “I’m alright”, he tries an reassuring tone

“You better be, kid”, you warn him and you can see him trying to look at the dead body in front of him.

It’s not like you can’t understand him, but being in a department that works with dozens of gruesome cases worse than the one in front of you, he has to toughen up or leave. Unfortunately he seems like will pass out anytime.

“Get us some coffee”

Jinyoung spoke up after a short pause, adding a push on the boy’s arm on the way back where you all just came from. Reluctantly Wonshik agreed and walked away.

“Sorry, I’ll get him to toughen up”, he speaks in apologetic tone when Wonshik is far enough and you wave in a dismissing manner.

“Just teach him your ways”, you joke, reminiscing JInyoung’s rookie days at the department.

The two of you were partners for a while after your Captain was transferred from narcotics and you tagged along. Old times, but dead memories and burn out stories aside, who sees this cocky and confident person Jinyoung became can’t really tell how he was at the beginning. You walk closer to the body and he follows after you with a contradicted expression.

“I wasn’t that bad back then”, he protest and you  look back and find him wearing an expression that distantly remembers a pout.

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,'' you scoff, “But I still remember that time when you threw up in an evidence bag after seeing guy’s guts spilled on the white tiles”, you grin, glancing back to see his disgusted expression

“Can you we not talk about that? I spent a whole months without eating noodles or grilled pork skin”, you can’t help but let out a snicker before stopping near the dead body Wonshik just ran from, “Now, now… WHat do we have here? Another druggie?”

The causality in your voice tilts into skepticism as you pay closer attention to what’s before you. It’s definitely not a pretty sight, but it doesn’t give you any pride to say that’s not the worst you’ve seen. Most people would rather look away, just like Wonshik, instead of sighing tiredly as your eyes scan the body for injuries, their differences, their meaning.

The ghost of a beautiful woman in her in her early-twenties is something you can see in this trashed, dirty corpse covered in nasty injuries. However, as the Lieutenant of the Department of Violent Crimes you’re more interested in the ugliness painted on the beauty, knowing fairly well that’s what is going to give you what you need to solve the case.

***

It’s really late that night when you bringing your sleeping daughter back home, you place her in her bed and take some time to watch her sleep peacefully surrounded by her favorite toys. You caresses her hair, watching her breathing evenly, taking your time to admire and enjoy this moment as much as you can after seeing gruesome scenarios the whole day.

When you leave Minjoo’s room, you’re still wide awake, so you reach for another cigarette in your backpack, you didn’t take it to the station today as you normally do. You still don’t know what you gonna do when you have to stay there overnight, your brother has his own life. Luckily you already found a daycare. When you reach the balcony, you look at the clear sky dotted with stars here and there around the bright moon until you look down tries to abstract yourself from your phone buzzing on the balcony’s table. You glance down at your watch, it reads ten past eight in the evening. He’s dressed in different clothes, but shows a favoritism for the same fashion you saw him wearing earlier.

Your phone stops ringing and you look at it, holding your cigarette between your first and middle finger, letting the ashes being burned and blown away.

You take the phone off your ear for a minute, taking a deep breath and silently cursing at the device. Your captain always knows everything, you don’t know how, but he always does.

“Lucky for you--”, you place your phone on your ear again, “It’s close to the crime scene and the Chief wants to see you hands on in this investigation. I’ll give you five minutes”

“The Chief of Police wants me there?”, you ask in disbelief, not being able to hold back a frown, “Why me?”, he sighs over the phone

“Why do you think I’d know?”, your Captains clicks his tongue and you hear something shuffle on the other side of the line as he screams with someone, you have to pull your phone away to not hurt your ears, “And, Y/n?”

“Ah”, you put your phone back on your heart to listen, “Yes, Captain?”

“File a request to get a radio in your new car. Soon!”

“Yes, Captain”

The text message arrives soon enough and you call your partner to make sure he’s on his way already while taking turn that’d be an illegal for others and would have someone stopping you if you didn’t put the siren on the roof of your car and turned the sound on before maneuvering your car.

“Oh”, you mutter without really being surprised while you park your car in some convenient spot, “So that’s why. Chief must be pissed”

You have to push through many curious people and the media that gathered around the place and surprisingly meet the youngest detective in your department. He meets you as soon as you step in the perimeter and salutes you unnecessarily, like the other officer guarding the area do. You can’t avoid noticing the cold sweat streaming down his temple.

“Wonshik!”

You place your arm around his shoulder mindlessly, turning you both away from the cameras and walking into the perimeter while some officer takes his place.

“Kid, if you stand there all pale and traumatized, how do you think they’ll understand things? Huh?”

He tilts his head up to look at you surprised and shocked.

“I didn’t mean to--”, he stutters, “I didn’t think I look like that, Lieutenant. I swear I--”, you give him a half smile and pats his shoulder

“Don’t sweat it. But, you have to get used to it, y’know”

“Yes, sir”, you nod and walk away.

“Where’s your partner?”, you look around, pulling your arm back just in time to see said person rushing to meet you halfway

“Lieutenant Cha? Didn’t expect to see you here”, he says casually even before he meets you halfway and the two of you walk side by side, “Are you feeling better?”, he asks Wonshik, who nods.

The youngster still seems a quite lifeless, but you image he must look better than he originally was because Jinyoung’s frown disappear after inspecting him.

“Sorry to disappoint”, you say nonchalantly as the three of you walk towards the direction Jinyoung just came

“How the moving went? Don’t get me wrong, but shouldn’t you be getting settled in the new place?”

“I can’t afford unpaid vacations”, you comment, not too amused by the thought itself and he chuckles at the thought

Someone arrives and the media goes loud once again, you turn around to look at the mess when one of the officers pushes his way past the mass of people trying to corner him for answer.

“No wonder the Captain’s in hurry”, you mutter before looking back at Jinyoung, “They seem excited”

Jinyoung scoffs. “I see the Captain haven’t told you a word about it”

“About what?”

For the first time, you wouldn’t be carrying your things in a garbage bag and you wouldn’t be meeting some random people that wouldn’t really be anything to you. Ignoring the lurking thoughts you pull open the door to the back seat with force because it’s broken and take two boxes out of the car, you have to force the door closed.

“Need some help over there?”, you turn around and glare at the man, disgusted by the ugly smirk playing on his lips.

“Fuck off”, you snapped when he tried to step closer and the next thing you know the man has a firm grip on your arm.

Kicking the boxes out of his way, he doesn’t care about the sounds of your things tumbling, getting tossed and disarranged inside the boxes as he shoves you against the side of your car.

“Think you something, you fucking whore”, he spit the words on your face, “imma gonna put you on your fucking place, you fucking bitch--”imma gonna put you on your fucking place, you fucking bitch--”

Using the sudden peak of adrenaline, you push him away, trying to get away from him when he stumbles back, but before you know it you’re back against the car. Biting on the inside of your cheek to avoid wincing from the pain that strikes your back, you fight off his hands trying to get another firm grip on you.

It’s so sudden you don’t see it a single move, but the next thing you know, that man’s yanked away from you and thrown on the dirty sidewalk, stunned and confused you can only stare at his helpless figure, slowly turning to look at this boy using denim ragged pants in front of you, face hidden under the shadow of his cap. The man curses under his breath and when he looks up you can see the blood streaming down his chin, staining the sidewalk, from his earned broken lips, he looks more threatening than before as he pushes himself up again.

More words fused with poison are lashed out from the man’s lips along with the blood he spit out in your direction, but his impotent figure halts as soon as he catches a glimpse of the boy standing there patiently, staring at him from under his cap, your eyes flutter from one to another, mouth slightly agape, just waiting for an opening to leave, the man on the floor seems as eager to escape as you.

“Ma--Mark-- ?!”, his eyes wide open and a stupid expression plastered on his face as he stares at the other, obviously much younger than him, “wa--what’s wro--wrong man~?”, you tell how daring it is for him to attempt a broken half-smile and an almost unnoticeable mechanic-like shrug that suppose to be casual.

Despite the hectic state the man is, this Mark guy seem relaxed, not really putting up a real threat, standing there pacifically - if you could say such a thing -, but the moment you feel his eyes more than you see them under the shadow of his cap you understand why the other’s so guarded, the shiver that scratches down your spine is no joke, you feel relieved when Mark looks away and there’s not a glimpse of sympathy within you as you watch Mark taking a calculated step closer to the other, instead you use this small gap to sprint into the building.

The elevator’s doors barely opens and you can already hear the hideous fight that sounds more like a household war bounces on the walls towards you and maybe that’s wrong but you’re glad that, for once, you’re not in the middle of it, carrying the boxes and your backpack, now hanging uncomfortably on your wrist, you step in the narrow corridor that has only two flickering artificial yellow neon lights, something you have to put up with even though you hate it.

The cramped apartment is far worst than you remember, you must have been in a daze from the newly discovered freedom to picture something a little cleaner than this or maybe you just decided to fool yourself, either way, this is your home now. There’s this broken mirror in the small, and disgustingly stinky, bathroom where you see the bruise left on your back and that explains the nauseating pain that holds you back from following your plan of cleaning the apartment and settling yourself nicely that same night, instead you open the boxes and picks up one of those old books you stole from some public library, you’re glad it’s not ruined and you let yourself drown in its pages, trying to pull yourself away from the rotten apartment and the pain that makes you feel lightheaded.

Easily enough, it works, soon you’re surrounded by the world you’ve read about many, many times, the characters and their antics, not by reality, your pain doesn’t bother you that much anymore, it’s your anesthesia from reality, it has always been. You didn’t think you’d need it just yet.

“New beginnings are never easy”, you try telling yourself when you’re laid on your arranged bed later that night, the book laying on top of your backpack on the floor beside a flashlight, you are in the engulfing darkness that came with the night, the street lights and the cars passing outside are the only sources of light in the apartment.

It’s not comfortable, the whole apartment has a rancid smell, you try your best not to think about it, the bed squeaks when you try to shift into a better position, but your back hurts, leaving you stuck in an awkward position that doesn’t hurt your back, but it’s even more uncomfortable for the rest of your body. There’s a turmoil that never seems to cease inside you, a mix of everything you went through and kept bottled inside for so many years, never daring to let it all when you felt exposed under someone else’s roof, about everything ahead of you because you know it won’t get much easier for someone who feels as if is just starting life, all that is both, good and bad, just everything and nothing at the same time.

You don’t know why everything is creeping up on you, but without realizing your vision becomes blurry and you press your hands on your face, shutting tightly your eyes to not cry, the problem is those stubborn tears that slip through any gap they find. 

The next morning looks promising with its clean blue sky, bright yellow sun shining above, perfect weather, not much cold nor hot, not humid, just perfect, oddly perfect you’d say, the sound of sirens is soothing in the distance and you’re not surprised to hear the same loud voices from the day before so early in the morning, your back still hurts a lot, but you can’t just sit around and do nothing, in order to live this life of yours you need to get a job, get some money.

Stepping out of your apartment, that you realize the idea of keeping a distance from Mark would be a little more difficult than you thought when you see his undeniable figure walking down the corridor towards you, the yellow neon lights cast somber shadows around him and just like the day before, Mark has his face hidden by the shadow of his cap and because of that you can’t really see, but you certainly feel that when he tilts his head, just slightly, he’s looking at you.

The small plastic bag sways as he walks silent steps towards you and you grow anxious, accidentally breathing out a sigh of relief when he walks past you. Daring to glance over your shoulder you see him stop by the door a few steps further across from yours, Marks breathes out a long, emotionless sigh before twisting the doorknob and pushing the door open, every move of his is a calm and calculated.

The loud voices that were echoing around you a moment earlier stop even before the door closed behind him, the silence that comes after is almost deafening. It takes you a moment or two to realize you’re still standing in the hallway and the realization makes you go on your way.

What happened the day before was in everyone’s mouth this morning and it didn’t take long for you to feel the aftermath of it, somehow you’re known as “Mark’s protege” and saying that you’re pissed you off was an understatement seeing how people have this romanticized tunnel vision of things, something you never really got into your life.

Even when you’re far enough from the neighborhood those rumors seem to tag along, the cautions and hesitantly nervous rejections from people gets you more and more frustrated, it was obviously nothing against you, you’re nothing to them, it’s all about that Mark guy, that for whatever reason showed up and went against that man, whatever people were picturing it was far from the truth and you, yourself, doubt he did that for you.

You’re very much used to side-glances, to be the alien, to be talked about and pushed aside, be rejected, all of that is fine, but this? It’s a reckless impulse, driven by your frustration that tosses whatever rational and self-protective thought away when you see Mark walking out of a backdoor, into a dirty alley, the heavy black door’s rusty hinges squeak while closing behind him and even louder when it's pushed open again, three men come out, two of them, taller and much more built than the one ghostly walking between them almost being carelessly dragged by them.

In your lack of awareness you don’t notice the man’s clothes kneaded and torn, hanging loosely on his body and you’re still too far to hear what they say to him, you don’t see Mark nodding, waving his hand dismissively at them, you only see the men walking away towards the other end of the alley as you stroll your way in and a little voice in back of your head tried to tell you how much of a bad idea this is when you notice very much clearly the way Mark tilts his head up to look at you for a short moment before focusing on digging his hand into his pocket, knuckles tainted with fresh blood, and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, your frustration speaks louder and soon your reasonable thoughts are strangled shut.

It’s not intentional the way you stomp your foot when you stop before him, seeing him tuck the pack back in his pocket after having the cigar lighten between his thumb and index finger, that stupid, stupid cap of his doesn’t let you see his face clearly even if the sun is at its peak, in all honesty, you didn’t think you’d come this far, you don’t have anything to say and you know he’s not looking at you, his head hung low as he takes a lungful of the smoke and, as you noticed before, his movements are always calm and calculated.

Mark doesn’t fully raise his head to look at you, stepping back to exhale the smoke and lowering the hand holding the cigarette so the smoke won’t bother you, he waits patiently for you to say something. Of course, he knows about the rumors going around, you seem pissed off so he can only assume you’re not happy about it, he never expected you to. Mark doesn’t like pulling his cap off, but the way you seem to be looking for his eyes makes him pull the cap higher for you to see his face, he’s not sure what in you draws him to do such a thing, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable for him, for once.

Your now dry lips part, but not a word comes out, you expected that the words would miraculously possess your lips making you say the right thing, but looking at him now, you can’t. It was like expecting a miracle to drop on your head, except that you don’t believe in miracles.

“You’re not here to thank me”, the cold statement is followed by another drag from his cigar.

“No”, you hate how your voice waivers and your lips quiver while you look in his eyes.

Generally, Mark doesn’t like looking into people’s eyes, but yours are different and he takes a step closer, you are too dumbstruck in something akin to cautiousness but borderlines fear, that you can’t move back as you wanted too. You can’t tell what but there’s this thing that surrounds him, all of him, emanating danger through every pore, it makes you want to run away, fast, you can’t control the way your body leans back, your heart pounds, hammering uncontrollably against your ribcage, the way your eyes grows two sizes when he steps close, too close you’d say.

His dark orbs hovering yours, digging for something that makes your throat constrict painfully, feels like being at the end of your lifeline and you don’t care how dramatic that sounds in your head. Holding in a breath you just wait, for-- well, something?! Something to say or-- you’re not sure yourself.

Shifting the weight on his feet, Mark lets a frown surface to his expression, the cigar burning away thoughtlessly between his fingers, the faint smell of nicotine and mint mixing with the wind and what everything’s gone, except for him, Mark’s still there hovering over you, but his eyes soften, somehow the darkness bathing them soothe somewhere hidden behind the almond colored irises, you wonder how can someone those eyes, they’re so different from before, like someone else’s. Your instinct of running fades away and saying that Mark’s intrigued is an understatement.

Instead of running you stay, instead of avoiding, you look in his eyes, so instead of bringing you in and try getting your life in his hands, Mark falls in love with you and that’s the only way he can label what he feels for you even though he never saw, apart from those movies he dislikes, nor felt it before, he doesn’t really understand how it supposed to work.

“Does it bother you?”, Mark never learn how to be subjective and you learned that about him very quickly.

You shrug, feeling his eyes on you but it’s different from those two times when you met him, he never looked at you that way again.

“Not really”, you sigh, dropping your shoulders, “people talk however they feel like it”, licking his lips Mark looks ahead and nods, he still hides his face under his cap, but being this close to him all you have to do is look up at him, “does it bother you?”

“Not at all”, a distant small smile plays on his lips and you smile to yourself, a secret, small smile when you look up and see it, you miss the way he looks at you when you look away.

His steps are always silent, but he’s more casual than calculating with you, more easy-going as if the world is his permanent 9-5 office job where he has to keep this tough front all the time and then there’s you, you’re not sure if you’re a vacation or a weekend, either way, it’s good to see him like this.

Mark was never one to think if something was a good or bad idea when wasn’t related to his job, but he tried doing that when it came to you, letting you in or not, his impulse spoke louder and the way your voice called his name the first time was a good reward, then you kept calling him ‘Mark’ and when you called him, you never sounded like you were calling the trouble maker, psycho kid, the scary boss, none of that, none of the other things, just Mark and he gladly got accustomed to that.

The sky is painted a beautiful watercolor of yellow, orange, red and fainting blue and white, the lights along the street become brighter gradually, the cars passing by becoming more frequent and he walks quietly by his side, it's something so mundane that weirdly enough put his heart at ease. When you stop, looking at a grocery store, he stops by your side, looking at it before seeing you turn to look at him and scratching your head, tilting your head a little, he doesn’t like when you look away from him.

“I have to buy some things--”, you trail off and he smiles at how cute you look just this way.

His smile surprises you when you look at him and see him nodding assertively at you.

“No problem”, his hand’s soft and warm when he holds yours and walk you inside the store and you hate the fact that you’re blushing, you know he’s looking, you always know when he’s looking.

These romantic cliches aren’t your thing, not Mark’s but the both of you see yourselves caught in it numerous times, to the point where you don’t mind anymore.

You don’t mind him helping you to get a job at this coffee shop slash bookshop you found fascinating but got disappointed when you’re turned down for having an “unclear background” for being a foster child, at least that’s how they put at first before apologizing for their mistake and taking you in, you don’t mind him taking you to the local clinic he claims the services are free of charge because he’s friends with the owner just so you could treat your back that worsens with time, you don’t mind when he knocks on your door during a random Friday and start fixing your car - and to your surprise he’s really good at it.

There’s this weekend where Mark helps you redecorate the apartment and by the end, it looks like something you always stared in a magazine or someone else’s computer, and you accept the gifts he gives you and even knowing he’s reluctant you buy him things when you can and he takes it gladly.

Mark finds out that there’s nothing better than being with you, doing whatever you want to, talking about whatever you want to, just... being with you. He also loves your smile and the way you open up to him, when you listen t him, listen to his story willingly with genuine attention.

Feels as if the world is renewed right before his eyes, more than anything, he trusts you and he definitely loves you, he’s sure now, he loves you. He loves every single thing about you. The way you can talk for ages about those old books you stole, the way you smile when you tell something about them, how your cheeks tint a beautiful color of red when you laugh and the different smiles you have, every single one of them, every joke you say he laughs at because is funny the way you tell them even if he never liked jokes that much before, he does now.

There are things he doesn’t like as well, such as the way you’re close in yourself when you see him working and he knows it’s ugly and he hates when you tell him why he hates it, hates even more that he can’t change your past, he hates that he can’t erase bad memories nor stop nightmares, so he wraps you in his arms and lets you cry as much as you want, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, finding his voice to sing you a lullaby, some stupid old song you end up claiming as your lullaby after some time and he sings whenever you want him to.

Your eyes travel to the corner of the room, across from him, and you hold weekly on the wooden doorframe for support, eyes stinging with the tears that are now threatening to fall when you see the laptop and phone broken, the wall damaged; taking a deep breath, you lick your lips and look back at Jackson, seeing him move an arm from his knee and reaching for something you can’t see, but the glass sparkles in the faint sunlight when he leans his back against the wall behind him and downs the half-filled glass of whisky like it’s water, your heart sinks, biting your lips you take uncertain steps towards him, taking uneven turns biting your lips nervously. This is not him, this is not Jackson you love, this far from the man you’re married to, the man that one week ago would wake you by straddling your sides and kissing his way up your back or tickling you when you’re too stubborn and when you’d glare at him he’d simply give you the smile you prize so much and that you, with all your heart, you’d see him wearing now.

“why haven’t you left yet?” his words cuts through the emptiness, reaching you like a cold blade and you step back, stopping in your tracks, you can hear him filling the glass again, his tongue darts out to taste the alcohol on his lips, you gulp down and part your lips but you can’t say anything.

“Jackson.” the way you say his name with so much fondness, he wants to believe it’s pity or that you’re faking it, but he knows you, it’s neither of those just love and caring. If by any chance, it were any of those, he could send you away easily, at least he wants to believe that much.

He wants to say more and hurt you so you’d leave, but the words don’t come out, Jackson is incapable of hurting you deliberately, so he hears you walking closer to him, the sound of your heels piercing through his ears, sending waves of pain throughout his body and you watch him drink what he poured himself earlier at once, his nose scrunches and he sniffs, you wonder how much he drank already, the smell of alcohol lingers around him strong, stronger as you get close enough to see his face tainted with the blush denouncing he already had too much despite how clear he sounds.

The familiar warmth that spreads from you is familiar and inviting when you kneel next to him, this small part of him wants nothing more than drown himself in his tears instead of the whisky that burns his throat when he pours himself another glass and drinks in one go, being this close you can see where the tears stained his skin and his dress shirt, the ones in his eyes are being held back and that’s another foreign trait on Jackson, his stern expression would scare anyone but you. 

“it’s over.” he still sounds clean from the drunkness he’s probably chasing so desperately, looking away from you and pouring himself another drink, Jackson sounds dull and hushed but loud in the empty bedroom. Holding the glass filled by half, he places his arm on his knee again, holding loosely and watching as the golden liquid swirls awkwardly. You wish he’d look at you.

“I lost--” his throat is dry and he chokes, hitting his head against the wall, “the company, our money, our house...everything.”, Jackson stops talking when he feels like he’ll cry again, “I lost everything.”, Jackson has nothing else to pour in his voice for you to hear except for how sorry he is and he the sound of his tears would be too pathetic now no matter how much you heard it before, “you really should leave”, the sound of his casualty comes out with ease but he closes his eyes slowly, trying to cope with the thought and the anticipated pain of seeing you go.

The touch of your hand on his arm, even through the tailored suit and dress shirt underneath, set his skin on fire, giving him hope, something he doesn’t want to feel. Jackson licks his lips again, flashes of the forty-eight hours passing behind his eyelids so vivid he almost feels everything is happening all over again and makes his gut twist in an odd way, less painful because you’re there and he lets you take the glass out of his hand and pull away his arm blocking you from getting any closer, before sitting beside him and resting your head on his chest. 

It’s impossible not to cry again when your arms are around his middle and Jackson feels so at home, so protected and loved, when he opens his eyes his tears falls one after another, Jackson feels himself melting and you whisper to him a new breath of life.

“Let’s start again”, you speak louder than his fears, than his self-pity and the darkness, brighter than the stubborn light maneuvering its way through the smallest gaps between the curtains

His arms are tired and heavy from the weight on his shoulders, but Jackson wraps them around you, pulling you as close as you can and hiding his face on the crook of your neck, his breathing hitches and he greets his teeth to hide the sobs that threaten to escape past his lips while his tears stream down his face freely, staining the delicate and expensive material of your dress as much as you’re ruining his suit.

Shoulders quivering and chest sinking with each swallowed sob and hiccup, from all those numbers with the negative sign before them and red colored, past the threats from associates to the broken promise he made your parents, seeing everything built with hard work been taken away so ruthlessly by the greedy mouth of low-life kind of men edges him near desperation, but surrounded by your warmth and everything that is you Jackson remembers why you’re his safe harbor.