Crimes of Passion

by diamondday1122

Summary:

Yoon Jeonghan saw love and marriage as nothing but an empty promise that ends in betrayal, just as it always has been for him. He planned to keep going, to keep flirting with death until it eventually caught up with him and gave him the final judgement he deserved. Until he meets the hardened yet compassionate Detective Choi, a man determined to find the truth at the heart of it all.

Notes:

dedicated to Star, who always encourages me and was the brainstorm that made this one come to life.

Chapter 1: One

The death of Dr. Jeon Wonwoo was just as much of a surprise as the sudden rain that fell upon his grave the morning he was laid to rest.

A makeshift tent was quickly constructed over the burial plot. Those who remained after the funeral service shared the cramped space under partitioned umbrellas. It was a light rain, not to the point where it soaked through their shoes, but enough to make the whole event that much more miserable.

By all logic, his death didn’t make any sense. At least, for how young and healthy he was it shouldn’t make sense. His profession as a successful and recognized doctor made it all the more puzzling when the news hit the community of his passing.

But death comes for us all.

Yoon Jeonghan knew that fact all too well.

His hand clutched the handle of his umbrella, so tight his knuckles were starting to turn white. The rain encouraged his tears, even if he had already spilled plenty at the ceremony. Faint streaks of black ink lined his cheeks from mascara that was supposedly waterproof. As the coffin was lowered down into the earth, a strangled sob escaped his lips, making Seungkwan hold tighter to his free hand beside him.

The rain eventually subsided, leaving behind an uncomfortable humidity in the air. Jeonghan was the last to stand by his husband’s grave, reading the name and death date over and over until it was engraved in his memory. Eventually, when he felt like enough time had passed, he kneels down, taking out a delicate white-petaled flower from his suit jacket pocket to lay it delicately on top of the freshly placed soil.

“Thank you, darling,” he mutters softly before standing, brushing the dirt from his dress pants, and turning from the gravestone.

He makes sure to give a lingering glance back before he reaches the car.

Seungkwan sits in the drivers seat, donning a pair of dark sunglasses now that the sun had peaked through the gray clouds that still lingered above them. The windshield wipers were the only sound accompanying the heavy atmosphere in the car as Jeonghan slips silently into the passenger seat.

“Does it get easier?”

Jeonghan slips on his own pair of sunglasses, sitting back in his seat. A heavy sigh falls from his lips as he responds, glancing down at his diamond wedding ring as it sparkles in the dim sunlight.

The sight makes him smile.

“Every time.”

 

 

Wonwoo had been a doting and gentle husband, much like Jeonghan’s previous lovers. He’d learned over time he definitely had a type, at least that he sought out on purpose. Gentle souls with deep pockets who would never see him coming.

They’d met by fabricated happenstance. Dr. Jeon was being honored for an Excellence in Service Award, given out annually to those who have made discoveries or great accomplishments in medicine. The venue took place at the local art museum downtown, and Jeonghan, of course, being a generous donor to the museum, was invited to attend. One introduction was all it took, and the two of them found themselves in a quick and easy love, like they had been made for each other all along.

Wonwoo was the dictionary definition of a work-a-holic. Jeonghan often teased that he was his second husband, as Wonwoo was already married to his work. This didn’t bother Jeonghan much, in truth, it helped him not get too attached. However, it was still a difficult task.

He wasn’t much of a drinker, coffee or otherwise, so Jeonghan had to be creative.

Returning home after the service to an empty home was always a bit eerie, but in more ways than one, he was grateful that he had slept in a different room than his now late-husband. Wonwoo had always worked odd hours and felt terrible if he woke Jeonghan in the early morning when he slipped from bed. Despite Jeonghan’s protests, he insisted, and made his old office and storage space a sleeping quarters for him. Of course, there were nights where they stayed together, wrapped in sheets and naked limbs on rare days where Wonwoo could sleep in for once. His career worked well for him, it was a lot easier to be on call as a man who couldn’t sit still and had insomniac tendencies. Jeonghan, the concerned and a bit prone to nag partner, would harp on him constantly to get more rest and stop skipping meals. Wonwoo would always wave him off, he knew his body, he could handle this.

Fine, but at least let me help you try and sleep better, Jeonghan insisted. He installed a humidifier in Wonwoo’s room and made sure to keep it filled with specific essential oils in hopes to calm his mind enough to fall asleep quicker. It did seem to have a slight improvement on his sleep quality. The scent of lavender and chamomile soon became a scent of home, the comforts of his loving husband.

It was only about a month later, just after he had worked a long surgery procedure, where his heart gave out.

It was all too sudden.

The surgery had been successful, but it seemed to have cost the good doctor his life.

There had been no signs of an allergic reaction to the essential oils, Jeonghan was reassured. It was determined his body was just under a lot of stress, likely from years without proper sleep and the pressures of his occupation since the hospital had been low on staff within the last year. Jeonghan was nonetheless stricken with guilt, feeling like there was more he could have done, signs he had missed. The community gathered to support him, encouraging him to seek counseling and that they’d be happy to invite him over for meals in the weeks before his funeral. His friends made sure to never leave him alone, always by his side or calling to check in every hour like clockwork.

He was the grieving husband, picture perfect, dictionary defined.

That night, the rain came back with a vengeance, splattering against the floor to ceiling windows of the Jeon penthouse — or now, more accurately, the Yoon penthouse. Jeonghan watched the rain race down the windows, the colors of the city below warping into a blur of reds and greens through the downpour. He barely looked up when Seungkwan settled a half-full wine glass in his hands.

“I liked Wonwoo,” he says with a sigh, as Seungkwan sat beside him on the long couch, “he was quite funny when he wanted to be.” Jeonghan brought the wine to his lips, hardly tasting it as he swallowed as quick as he could to speak again. “Though he did make things more difficult. He was almost too nice. Well, to me at least.”

Seungkwan sighed, sipping his own white wine, “I actually teared up at the service this time. Had to remind myself he wasn’t the squeaky clean doctor everyone thought he was.”

Jeonghan leans back against the cushions, “everyone has their secrets. Makes it easier to do what I do.”

The phone on the coffee table pings. Seungkwan leans forward to pick it up, “Seokmin’s caught up with work, they’re making him stay late again. He says he’s sorry with like…one, two, three…eight crying emojis.”

Dismissively with a smile, Jeonghan waves his hand, “fine, but he owes us drinks.” Seungkwan types back a reply as Jeonghan continues talking, “with Joshua it was all trial and error, finding the right dose for his coffee every morning until he didn’t show symptoms. He was a creature of habit, unfortunately for him. Hao was even easier, the man was so obsessed with me he thought I could do no wrong, and god did the man love his tea. Wonwoo was a challenge, but I admired him for that.”

He expected a scoff or laugh from Seungkwan, but all he got was silence. He lifts his head to glance over at him, seeing the younger man now typing away on his own phone. A cheeky smile turns into a giggle as he bites his lip at whatever he was seeing on his screen.

“You’re not even listening to me!”

“Hm?” His eyes glance up, wide as if he had just been caught doing something wrong, “No, I heard you! Something about tea?”

Jeonghan scoffs but there’s no real frustration in his demeanor.

A single knock raps out behind the main door. Not waiting for a response, Soonyoung enters. A young man with bright eyes and a curved smile graces the room, “sorry I’m late!”

He strides in, holding up two paper grocery bags excitedly. He looks between the two of them, then his shoulders slump, “you started drinking without me?”

Jeonghan stands, setting down his glass and moving over to embrace his friend, “you’re an hour late, Soonie.”

Soonyoung leans into the hug, “I had to pick up a few things. Sorry again for your loss, by the way.”

Seungkwan stands and helps grab the bags, bringing them into the kitchen and setting them on the island counter top. He pulls out bottle after bottle of various drinks, shaking his head in disbelief.

“What did you think of Wonwoo, Soonie?” Seungkwan asks curiously.

Soonyoung, now fully focused on getting himself a drink, helps himself to finding a glass as he responds, “I think I liked him the most out of the three. Though that may just be because he had the deepest pockets.”

“And was eager to share it with you.”

Jonghan sighs, lounging back down on the designer couch, long legs spread out over the cushions. His hand lays across his forehead, “you two make me feel almost guilty for this.”

Seungkwan scoffs, “you? Guilty? I thought I’d never see the day.” He then swats Soonyoung’s shoulder as he goes a bit heavy handed with his vodka soda. “Easy, Soonyoung. You’re drinking like your husband just died.”

Soonyoung chuckles, “what, I cant drink in commemoration?”

“Speaking of husbands. How are things going with this mystery man you’ve been glowing about?”

Soonyoung lifts himself to sit on the edge of the table, taking a long swig of his drink. He sighs as it hits his throat, making him cough a bit before he responds, “he pretends he doesn’t love me, but I think he’s obsessed.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes with heavy exaggeration, making Jeonghan chuckle, “think you’ll keep this one then?”

“Oh, absolutely. We may not ever be official, but I’ve got him on a pretty short leash.”

“Congrats,” Seungkwan snarks.

Soonyoung smirks, “and how’s your love life going, Kwan?”

Normally at the mention of a love life, Seungkwan would scoff, saying he doesn’t need a man on his arm to be happy, but this time there’s the faintest tint of pink that dusts his features. He’s quick to change the subject, “isn’t it a little insensitive to talk about our love lives while Hannie is grieving?”

“You started it!”

They turn their attention to Jeonghan as he laughs, sprawled out on the couch. He waves a hand dismissively, “No, no, go on. It distracts me from my misery.”

Soonyoung chuckles, glancing over the penthouse, his eyes landing on a small batch of plants by the windows.

“Is this where the magic happens?” He slides off the counter and strides over to the flowering buds, “is it even safe to be in the same room as them?”

Jeonghan stands and moves over to him, tracing his fingers over the leaves. There’s a deep reverence as he looks over his creations. The plants are relatively small, able to fit in a just about any household plant holder, and look just like any flowering house plant. These delicate gems were a specific product of precise botany. Jeonghan spent years crafting it. Perfecting it.

“It’s only lethal when it’s dried. I wouldn’t recommend eating a petal for fun, though.”

Soonyoung backs away cautiously, deciding to admire the small flowers from a distance. “Brave of you to just keep them lying around.”

Jeonghan shrugs, gently brushing a few petals, “I’m proud of my work,” he replies simply.

His phone buzzes again on the coffee table, and Seungkwan goes over to check it out of habit.

“Unknown number calling.”

“Answer it, it might be my lawyer.”

He lifts the phone to his ear, answering with practiced words, “this is Jeonghan’s phone, can I take a message for him?” His face, usualy soft with a smile, fades into furrowed concen, “yeah, he’s right here. Hold on.”

“Hannie? It’s Seokmin…” Seungkwan holds out the phone to him, nerves evident in his eyes and his whispered words.

Jeonghan strides over, taking in a breath to prepare himself, already knowing what to expect. He holds up the phone, “This is Jeonghan.”

Seokmin’s voice comes through the other end, all formal and business, “Yoon Jeonghan? I’m calling from the DT Police Department. We would like to speak with you here at the precinct as soon as possible. There’s a few matters regarding your late husband that are being investigated.”

Jeonghan shifts his tone, “My husband? But they ruled it a heart attack.”

“I understand sir, but it’s a direct request from Detective Choi. It should only be a bit of your time. Tomorrow morning at nine.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a command. Be there at that time.

“Yes, yes of course then. Nine o'clock tomorrow.”

“Please arrive at the main entrance and myself or one of our officers will lead you to the meeting room. See you then, and our condolences for your loss.”

Jeonghan mutters out a word or two of thanks before hanging up the phone. The concern on his face blends with a twinge of annoyance. Had they found something? A trace? A connection?

No.

Impossible.

Another investigator in way over his head. This would be nothing but a waste of his time.

“Seungkwan, I need everything you can find on this Detective Choi.”

 

 

Chapter 2: Two

Summary:

celebrating 500 followers 🎉
that is crazy

A rapid knock on the door to the forensics lab nearly made Hansol jump out of his skin. He turns over his shoulder from where he stood over his supplies to see a friendly young officer grinning back at him.

“Hey, Sol!”

“Chan, what did I say about knocking?”

Officer Lee Chan enters the room, holding a plastic bag in his hands, his smile fades slightly as he remembers their last conversation, “Oh, sorry. I was supposed to text.”

Hansol turns his chair around, standing to meet Chan at the door. He slips off his gloves and sets them to the side. He chuckles as he jokes, “It’s a little late for lunch, Chan, what’s in the baggie?” He pulls down his mask to speak and pushes the magnifying glass attachment out of the way of his glasses.

Chan’s eyes flick back to his hands, still clutching the evidence bag he had been so determined to bring to the forensics department, “Oh, yeah. I was going through the evidence again for Detective Choi since I knew he was making you guys take another look at the case and I noticed something kinda weird.”

“Weird, how?”

Hansol takes the bag from him, peering past the clear plastic to see nothing but a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses. He gives a skeptical look and Chan is quick to shake his head, “it’s not like last time! I know now to only bring things to your attention if it’s legit, and I promise this is. See, look, if you hold them up to the light there’s this weird film over the glass.”

“Film,” Hansol repeats the word curiously, holding up the bag to the florescent lights on the ceiling. For a moment the glare made it difficult to see clearly through the bag, but at the right angel he could just make out a faint rim around the frames of the glasses. A thin layer of something that collected at the edge where he imagined the victim's shirt couldn’t quite reach when he wiped them clean.

“I thought it was just dust, but it’s not fuzzy like dust, you know what I mean?”

Hansol nodded his head slowly, still looking over the glasses through the bag.

“Wanted to see if they found anything like that on the victim's body. Hansol…?”

At the mention of the body, Hansol wordlessly moves through the room, striding past the double doors as Chan follows him back to his main office area. He pulls up the case file and the information that he had received from the coroners office. Scanning through the collection of words and photos, he stops as he finds the details he’s looking for.

Detective Choi needed to see this.

Now.

Chapter 3: Three

Choi Seungcheol ran his fingers through his hair, further ruffling the dark strands from their usual place over his forehead.

“There has to be something.”

His voice is rough, speaking low and more to himself.

Three heart attacks.

All in the same area within the past six years.

To anyone else they were just numbers in a statistic. Men their age can die of heart attacks, it was unfortunately common. Yet there was something stubborn deep in Seungcheol’s chest that wouldn’t let these men fade into memory. To Seungcheol, this wasn’t coincidence.

“…cheol?”

They were all wealthy. At least substantially well off. They had access to top healthcare and were all at least above average in fitness. It didn’t look like a string of misfortune, it looked like a pattern.

“…cheol!”

He’s pulled from his thoughts as he hears the remnants of his name be repeated again. “Hm?” He hums, not looking up from his desk.

“Seungcheol, you haven’t moved from your desk since lunch. We have other cases to go through. Maybe it’s time to just…set this one aside. Especially since it’s not even an official case.”

Seungcheol put his head in his hands, “there’s something here, Gyu. There has to be. I’ve seen it before. The pieces look like nothing when you don’t have the full picture, but there’s something here. It’s taunting me.”

His partner sighed, putting his hand on the back of his chair, “I’m not doubting you, Cheol. You’re just letting this one get to you a little too much,” He stretches out the word ‘little’ to further his point, “and judging by the cups of coffee that have been accumulating on your desk,” he gestures to the five plastic cups that were shoved to the side, “you haven’t been sleeping well either.”

Seungcheol groans as Mingyu chuckles. The taller detective blows a small bubble of gum between his lips before he continues.

“Also, you should try mixing up your caffeine. Like, do an energy drink, or something. Or you could just down a full pack of soda like Jihoon does every day.” A small huff of a laugh whistles past Seungcheol’s nose, and Mingyu claps him on the back, taking that as a sign of agreement. “Come on, partner. Let’s call it a day. It’s already late. Get some sleep and we’ll come back to it tomorrow.”

He was right, of course, that Seungcheol hadn’t been sleeping well. In truth, it had been at least over a decade since he did. Most of the time it wasn’t even from his job, but simply because his mind would never stop churning. Past memories and conversations, small details from cases long closed, adding to a future to do list — all things his mind seemed to work best at when he was supposed to be sleeping.

Before he could verbally agree with Mingyu, a sudden beeping noise interrupts his thoughts as a piece of paper runs through the small printer by his desk. It scans over the blank page a few times to deposit the ink before spitting it out in the bin beside it.

Only one person preferred to print hard copies instead of emails, especially when he needed to get Seungcheol’s immediate attention. He stood and gripped the page, holding it firmly as he scanned over the words. Mingyu popped his gum again, a bit of it sticking to the corners of his mouth. He could see the heavy concentration on his partner’s tight knit eyebrows.

“What’d Hansol find?” Mingyu asks casually, smacking his gum again.

Seungcheol swallows, reading over the message again.

“Enough to show the Chief.”

 

Seokmin sits idly at his desk at the front of the police station. It had been a slower day, he thanked the universe, but that didn’t stop the inevitable appearance from the infamous duo of detectives to brighten his afternoon.

“Hey, Seokie.”

The taller of the two detectives leaned on his desk, propping his chin on his hand. His eyebrows raised in clear flirtation as he greeted him with that silly nickname. Seokmin laughed, more of a giggle than a full chuckle, as he rolled his eyes, “Detective Kim. You two here to see the boss?”

“What, I can’t visit the first floor just to see your smiling face?”

“You brought Detective Choi to come flirt with me?”

Mingyu flounders a bit, “I, no…we—”

Seokmin smiles, nodding in the direction of the offices behind him, “he’s in. Just got back from a town hall so make sure this is worth his time.”

Seungcheol decides to speak up, “thanks, Seokmin. Don’t rush out of here too quick. We’ll be working a bit late.”

“Again?” Seokmin sighs and Mingyu gives him a genuinely sympathetic look, “but I had plans tonight.”

There was still a bit of his usual overly-cheerful tone in his words but the disappointment was clear. Mingyu stood up from where he leaned, “we’ll try not to keep you too late, Seokie.”

“Thanks again, Seokmin," Seungcheol says quickly. Before Mingyu could throw in a wink or some other suggestive action, he pulls his partner by the arm and leads him back to the other offices.

Mingyu gives one last wave and a bright smile, showing off his pointed canines, as he’s dragged away. Seokmin chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he returns his focus back to his desk. As he goes to pick up the phone to alert the Chief of Police of the detectives arrival, he notices a small ripped piece of paper where Mingyu’s hand had been. He glances around before pressing a finger to the paper and sliding it to himself. His cheery smile beaming even brighter as he reads over the handwritten numbers and scribbled heart.

Oh, Soonyoung was gonna love this.

 

 

“Chief?”

A gruff sound answered him from the other side of the door and they took that as permission to enter. The door creaks as it opens, revealing the small office where Chief Lee operated. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his dark sunglasses were still perched behind his head. Seungcheol had to wonder if he even knew they were sitting there. He doesn’t sit up when the detectives enter, keeping his large boots on the edge of his desk as he leans back further in his chair.

“What’d you find, Choi?”

“A lead.”

This gets the Chief to glance up, so Seungcheol continues, “That sudden heart attack case? There’s a development.”

“Choi we’ve been over this. Unless there’s concrete evidence, I can’t—”

Mingyu smacks the file on his desk, stopping his words.

“Just look, Jihoon.”

He bristles at the use of his first name, giving Mingyu a hard glare. Despite his agitation, he sits up, setting his feet back down on the floor as he leans over his desk to pull the file to him. He flips it open to see the highlighted pages. The words untraceable, substance, and research stick out to him. He sighs as he sees the official notice and signature from the forensics department.

“He really thinks this is something?”

Seungcheol nods. It’s a small but firm movement of his head, and Jihoon has known him long enough to recognize this as a confident response.

“Fine. Do what you need to, but try and keep it under wraps. I don’t need mass panic over a potential serial killer again.”

Seungcheol’s shoulders release their grip by his ears, softening as he lets out a breath, “thank you, sir.”

Jihoon waves his hand dismissively with another low grunt, “now get out of my office.”

The two detectives decide not to linger, taking their green light and running with it.

As they pass back through the door, a familiar figure stands waiting just outside. Seungcheol gives a knowing nod in greeting, not having time to fully register his presence as his mind is now fully occupied by his case.

His case.

An official one.

 

Jihoon doesn’t look up as the door swings open again, his voice dripping in exhaustion, “what now?”

“Baby, I thought you’d be excited to see me.”

His eyes shoot up upon recognition of the voice. A taller individual he knew all too well stood in the doorway, an amused smirk on his face as he leaned against the doorframe.

“I thought I told you to stop visiting me at work.”

Jihoon kept his voice flat, authoritative, but there was a slight wobble to his words that told Soonyoung everything he needed to know. He strides over, pushing aside some of the files and pens on his desk to make room for him to sit on the edge of it. His legs cross as he looms over the Chief.

“I knew you missed me. It’s barely been forty-eight hours and it feels like months, huh?”

Jihoon clears his throat, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed, he opens his mouth to fire back a retort but Soonyoung’s slender finger presses to his lips, silencing his words.

“I missed you too.”

This was how it always was, a few words and small actions from his friend, or whatever he should be called at this point, and he would crumble. His eyes wandered over the sleeveless cut of his shirt, and despite the reputation he’s built for himself, he knew this man could make him break. He always did.

He was a man of few words regardless, but Soonyoung seemed to know how to steal them off his tongue without even trying.

“Will I see you tonight?”

Jihoon swallows, finding his voice, “You came all this way just to ask that?” He glances over Soonyoung’s shoulder to make sure no one in the bullpen was watching too closely on the other side of the blinds. “I’m working late.”

“All the more reason to see me.”

Soonyoung traces a painted nail down his tie. Jihoon’s hand moves faster than a blink, his fingers wrapping firmly around the man’s wrist. The other men would talk if they knew why his old high school friend came to visit him so often, even if one glare from him would shut them up. He’s tried to push Soonyoung away, keep him at an arms length from the truth, but here just a few breaths away was where he was always weakest.

“I’ll be home by eleven.”

Soonyoung’s eyes flickered back up to meet his, crinkling into crescents as he smiled. He pet his tie back into place as he shook free from Jihoon’s grasp. He stood from the desk and stretched, making sure to lift his shirt just enough to reveal his waistline. He hums to himself, reveling in his victory as he reaches the door, pausing to call over his shoulder (much too loud for Jihoon’s liking), “don’t forget the handcuffs this time.”

Jihoon sits back in his chair, resuming his casual pose with his boots on his desk, the subtle scent of something spiced lingered from where Soonyoung once sat.

“I’ve got something better than handcuffs, baby.”

 

Hansol held the tweezers up to eye level again, the small vial clutched between the prongs seemed empty to the naked eye, but to his magnified glasses he could easily make out the small particles he’d collected that sat at the bottom. It was barely enough to test, and he had to be careful about it or else that would be the end of this thread. The weight of responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders, but that was always when he worked best. Chan stood outside the lab, pacing as he waited for the detectives to show. His hand fidgeted with the radio on his chest until they both fall stiffly to his sides as the door opens to the forensics department.

“Detectives,” Chan nods, the younger rookie trying to stand tall against his seniors.

“Hey, Channie,” Mingyu ruffles his hair, much to his annoyance, and Seungcheol gives a faint nod. A habit of his, Chan had noticed, when he was too focused for words. Mingyu continues, “Heard you saw something not even eagle eyes over here could see.”

He gestures to the lab where Hansol looks up, noticing their entry in the other room.

“Well done, kid.”

Seungcheol finally speaks, tilting his chin up a bit as he looked over Chan.

“T-thank you, Detective.”

“You can use our names, rookie. We wont tattle on you to Jihoon.”

“Oh,” he stands a bit taller, “okay, Mr. Kim, then.”

“Call me Gyu, kiddo.”

Chan goes to speak again when Hansol enters the main office, his gloves already removed but his white coat still clung to his shoulders, “you told me to message you urgently if I found anything.”

Seungcheol’s attention shifts back to Hansol and the mission at hand, “you said there was a substance? A trace of something?”

Hansol nods, leading them over to the computer at his desk. He sits, letting the two taller detectives stand behind him while Chan peered over his shoulder to see.

“Officer Lee here noticed a thin film of a white substance over the victims glasses. At first I dismissed it as dust or something from the surgical room where he passed, but then when I checked the full autopsy report, they noted the same odd white film had coated the inside of his nasal passages. He was wearing a mask for the surgery, and would wear one most of the time at the hospital, so we figured it must be something he picked up from somewhere else.”

“A white substance in his nose? Are we sure this guy didn't just know how to have a good time?” Mingyu joked.

“That’s what I said!” Chan noted enthusiastically, his pride brightening every time Hansol had said we. His smile faded, however, when he met Seungcheol’s pointed stare.

“Any progress on finding what is it?”

Hansol shook his head, adjusting his own glasses more on his nose. “It’s not like anything I would assume it to be. Just an odd… dust. A powder. It’s so thin it’s almost like it was left over from something larger.”

Seungcheol’s mind raced a mile a minute, mentally flipping through all the details and photos he had been scouring for hours, there had to be a connection somewhere. Something that stood out.

Something—

“It reminds me of the weird film that humidifiers leave. I always have to clean off the photos and stuff in my apartment when I leave it on too long,” Chan comments casually, leaning in to get a closer look at the photos on the computer screen.

Click.

A puzzle piece finally slips into place.

“Chan, you’re a genius.”

The younger officer stood up more, giving a confused but proud look, “I am?”

Mingyu looked just as confused as he stepped aside to let Seungcheol move closer to Hansol. Without needing to ask, Hansol passes the mouse to him and let’s him look through the file. He could recall there had been a brief interview with the husband of the victim, Yoon Jeonghan. Nothing pointed to him being suspicious, but the mention of a humidifier sparked his memory of the conversation. He had reportedly been concerned that the diffuser his husband had used could have been an issue. It was ruled not to have contributed to his sudden poor health, but this connection was too solid in Seungcheol’s mind to ignore.

Who would specifically link a humidifier to causing a heart attack?

“It’s gonna be another late night at Jun’s, isn’t it?” Mingyu asks softly to no one in particular. He’s seen this look in Seungcheol’s eyes far too many times.

It was the first solid tether between the husband and the victim’s sudden death.

It was the first sign of foul play.

Perhaps a bit of a stretch, but Seungcheol would gladly run a mile to prove his gut instincts true.

He needed to speak to this Yoon Jeonghan, and fast.

“Gyu, get Seokmin to contact the victim’s husband. I’d like to have a few words with him.”

Chapter 4: Four

Click. Click. Click. Click.

The unmistakable sound of designer heels echoed through the halls of the DT Police Department.

Every eye followed as the tall, slender figure was escorted back to the interrogation rooms. Naturally, as he was still in mourning, he was dressed in coordinating shades of black, from fitted dress pants to loose blouse top. A subtle line of diamonds sparkled across his neck, bringing out the faint glistening of old tears that still lingered in his eyes.

He gave small smiles and nods to those he passed by, but there was no warmth in his gestures.

As he was led to one of the interrogation rooms — a dimly lit space with nothing but two chairs, a table, and an oddly reflective mirror, or perhaps it was a window, on the wall— he made himself comfortable in the chair closest to the door. His slips his dark coat from his shoulders and folds it over the back of the chair before he sits, crossing one leg over the other. His posture is pristine, present, a clear sign of someone who carries themselves well.

Physically and otherwise.

“The detective will be with your shortly,” Seokmin mutters, his tone apologetic. A concerned glance is quickly hidden behind a friendly smile, “is there anything I can get you, Mr. Yoon? Water? Coffee?”

Jeonghan gives a small shake of his head, “I’m alright, thank you.”

Seokmin gives a final look, layers of emotion in his eyes as he turns to leave, the door softly closing behind him.

Jeonghan’s been here before. Not at this specific department, but in an interrogation room just like this. His previous husband, Xu Minghao, was rather well known. Not as much as Dr. Jeon, but enough that there was some suspicion of foul play in his sudden death. He being the spouse, and the soul inheritor of his wealth after his passing, he was the first to be questioned. It was a brief interview, the same basic questions in hopes for Jeonghan to slip up, but of course, he never did.

This would be just the same, except this time he knew exactly who his audience was.

Who he had to perform for.

Seungkwan was an expert in the ways of blackmail. No secret was safe from him, and he liked to use these secrets he collected as his own form of currency. Working in tandem with Seokmin’s magnetic personality for connections and gossip, the two of them could have a portfolio in hours of just about anyone. Readily available data was easy, a quick search and anyone could find your full name, address, birthday, relatives and more. What their group thrived on was the lesser known details, the things that you so desperately want to be erased from time and memory. Those late night texts you sent to a one night stand, begging to see them again, or that large sum of money that miraculously appeared in your bank account. That was where the true gold was.

And it was almost too easy when one of you could travel by word of mouth and the other was basically an extension of the internet.

If it was out there somewhere, they could find it.

Unfortunately, even with their talents, they could find very little about this Detective Choi.

At thirty years old, Choi Seungcheol was the senior investigator at the local precinct, having been in the field for almost eight years now. He lived alone in a small apartment just a short walk from his office. No roommates or even pets. He visited with his parents and older brother in Daegu, his hometown, for a meal at least once a month. He had almost no social media presence, only seen pictured in articles and interviews about previous cases and one professionally done photo on the staff page for the police department. He was a handsome individual, and clearly cared somewhat about his appearance as his thick eyebrows were groomed and his hair usually styled neatly in curtains over his forehead. At least in the few photos they could see of him. Through his family's socials they could gather he was single. Very single. In fact, it seemed the man hadn’t been in any kind of relationship since his early days at university (which he graduated from early with high marks and masters in physiology and criminal justice). 

His education would make things a bit more difficult, but the fact that he was hopelessly single?

Jeonghan could work with that.

The man was a hardened detective, tough, he knew this. It would take a little more than a flash of skin and a smile.

He had to be clever.

He would have to find a weakness first.

As he glanced to his watch the door opened again, revealing the face he had become a quick expert in.

Except he was even more of a specimen in the flesh.

His broad shoulders were the first to enter the room and grace Jeonghan’s presence. They were built wide and strong, evidence of his upper-body physique that continued to be obvious through the ripples under his thin dress shirt. A basic blue tie was situated between his chest, a few shades too light to perfectly match his navy-blue dress pants. Full lips were pressed together and quickly upturned into what could be considered a smile. The sharp slope of his nose gave a unique softness to his profile as he turned. Thick eyelashes fluttered as his eyes moved up... and down... as he gave a lingering glance over Jeonghan. It was clear that in this first impression, without having said a word to each other yet, both men were making quick deductions about the other.

Nervous or genuinely concerned?

Suspicious or grieving?

Confident or manipulative?

Guilty or innocent?

Dominating or submissive?

Detective Choi takes his place across the table. Still standing, he extends an arm with hand outstretched for Jeonghan to shake. The dim overhead lighting casted shadows over his already defined tendons and veins on the back of his hand, a deliciously masculine trait, “Mr. Yoon? I’m Detective Choi.”

Jeonghan remains seated, reaching up to take his hand firmly, but not crushing, “a pleasure.” The touch lingers a beat too long, the eye contact sparking with an unnamable heat.

Intrigue on both sides, but for very different reasons.

As Seungcheol sits he clears his throat, “thank you for coming in on such short notice.”

He pauses, so Jeonghan fills the silence like he wants him to.

“It’s no trouble, Detective.”

That’s all he gives. A short reply. Nothing but pleasantries before getting to the point, “am I being interrogated?”

Seungcheol’s eyes raise slightly. A natural question given the situation, but regardless, this makes him reroute the direction in his mind about where to take the conversation.

“There has been a discovery involving your husband’s death. You’re not under arrest, you’re free to go anytime. We just wanted to ask a few questions regarding your husband and what happened the day he died.”

Time to act surprised.

“A discovery? About his health?”

“Potentially.”

A goading and vague response, seeing what Mr. Yoon does with this information.

“Am I under investigation?”

Seungcheol blinked, the only indicator that this response took him off guard. He expected some push back, but something about Mr. Yoon's insistence was intriguing. Not inherently guilty, but not completely innocent indicators either. 

“No, sir. Like I said you’re free to go anytime.”

“Should I be requesting to speak to my lawyer?”

Jeonghan leaned back his chair, arms crossed. A curious smile sat on the edge of his lips as an attempt to sound friendly, despite the obvious defensiveness.

“Mr. Yoon—”

“Please, Jeonghan is fine.”

“Jeonghan,” the name sounds pleasant to hear from the detective's tongue, even if there was the faintest hint of impatience as he said it, “We’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

With a wave of his hand, Jeonghan motions him to ask away. Seungcheol swallows back a sigh. He didn’t want his suspicions of foul play to bleed in to the investigation, obviously the suspect was more aware of what could be going on. It would definitely make sense for a guilty person to be so guarded, yet he was also entirely too casual about it. It was almost as if this conversation amused him, rather than upset him. There wasn’t enough to go off yet.

If only Hansol could've figured out what that powder was overnight.

Seungcheol leaned forward, elbows on the table, closing the proximity and making the conversation less business. More casual, more intimate.

He burned the mental script he had planned and decided to just jump right in.

“You never took your husband’s name?”

Jeonghan didn't miss a beat.

“I preferred to keep my family name. I’ve already donated to various organizations in my birth name, so it made it easier to just keep it that way in the long run.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I don’t,” Jeonghan chuckled gently, “I come from a wealthy background. My work is in giving back to my community and the things I enjoy supporting.”

“Such as?”

Seungcheol already knew the lengthy list of local organizations that Jeonghan had generously donated to over the years, but he was curious what ones he would mention if asked.

“Oh, a bit everywhere. I do have a love for the theater, though. All the local arts I like to give back to, at least annually.”

“Was Dr. Jeon much of a philanthropist?”

“Absolutely. Naturally his passions were more in medicine, of course.”

“Was he more in charge of the finances?”

Jeonghan shrugs, “we never really joined our accounts. I took care of my spending and he took care of his.”

“He left you quite a bit of an inheritance in his will.”

“Yes. With specific instructions on where to put the money.”

Seungcheol nods, leaning up a bit to write down a few words.

Eye contact. Not fidgeting. Stiff.

Without looking up from his paper he asks, “Was Dr. Jeon your first husband?”

Jeonghan nods once, “yes. He was my only husband.” Alive.

“You were concerned with your late husband’s health.”

Not a question. A clear statement. Revealing he knows something that Jeonghan doesn’t, but he can see right through this line.

“As any loving partner would be,” he responds a bit pointedly, showing he doesn’t appreciate the subtle accusational tones in the detectives questions. Seungcheol left the air open, hoping his suspect would elaborate or continue. When he doesn’t immediately, he pretends to write down something else.

Before he could move on, Jeonghan does speak, “do you think something happened to my husband, Detective? Besides a heart attack.”

There’s genuine curiosity in his question. Just as he was being interrogated, this was also his chance to interrogate Detective Choi himself.

“It’s hard to say,” a vague answer that he decides to add a bit more to, “I know you’ve been asked this before, but in case anything else has come to mind since then... you’re sure you didn't notice anything off about his behavior or health leading up to his death?”

Jeonghan sighs, a distant look in his eyes as he finally shifts his gaze from the detective. “No. Nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve tried to go back and analyze every interaction I can remember about him, but there's nothing that I can think of outside of the obvious concerns with his insomnia.”

“Was he taking anything for it?”

“He tried sleeping pills in the past, but they gave him terrible nightmares, so he stopped taking them rather quickly.”

“Hm,” is all Seungcheol says in response. Then, “was he kind to you?”

“Detective, are you insinuating—”

He holds up a hand, “you’re reading through a lot of my words, Mr. Yoon. I ask my questions at face value.”

Jeonghan sighs, leaning back in his chair, “I knew I should have contacted my lawyer.”

"Mr. Yoon—”

“Jeonghan.”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol clears his throat, taking off and setting aside his glasses on top of the notes he was taking. “Could you walk me through the day he died?”

There it was. The real reason he was here. Solidify his alibi.

He could make a scene, be outraged he was being suspected and leave.

But that would mean leaving this lovely battle of wits with a handsome detective, and Jeonghan couldn’t resist a challenge.

He liked to win.

“Well, it was a normal Wednesday, for me. Like I told the other officers, Wonnie, er Wonwoo, had left that morning before 6 to get to work on time. I remember him coming in to kiss me goodbye like he always does. Though I can’t recall if he said anything to me, I fell back asleep soon after. That particular day I had a donor lunch meeting with the head of the MoTA department—”

“Mota?”

“Meuseam of Thetrical Arts.”

Seungcheol made a small ah noise as he jotted this down. He then leaned back to listen again, spinning the pen absentmindedly around his fingers, letting Jeonghan talk as long as he wanted for this particular part.

“That was from noon to 2, and after that I was supposed to spend the evening with some close friends of mine to celebrate a birthday but then…well, I got the call on the drive home from the meeting. They said he’d passed around 11 that morning I believe. Just after the surgery he was scheduled for. He…” Jeonghan’s words get caught in his throat and he had to clear it several times before continuing. Seungcheol silently pushes the box of tissues a bit closer to him but Jeonghan simply rubs under his eye with his fingers to brush any emotions away. “I drove straight to the hospital but of course it was all too late. They said there was nothing that could have been done.”

Jeonghan sniffles and Seungcheol gives him a moment, letting the silence linger several beats, just listening to the others mans staggered breathing.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.”

There was a rare thread of compassion, a gentleness to the detectives otherwise monotone voice.

“He…he was so young. Had so much to live for. I can’t believe he’s gone, so quickly. It’s unfair.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Jeonghan.”

The use of his name caught him off guard, despite having told him several times to use it.

“Have you lost someone close to you detective?”

An odd question, perhaps, but Seungcheol didn't hesitate to answer.

“Not personally. But I've seen it enough to understand the heat of that kind of pain. How it burns through everything. It never quite leaves.”

Small tears cling to Jeonghan’s eyelashes, making him look almost angelic with his reddened cheeks and golden blond hair. Seungcheol found himself leaning in closer. His hand shifted a bit on the desk, as if to reach up and and catch the tears before they fall down his cheeks. But he stops himself, reminding him where he was and who he was sitting across. No matter how attractive he was, this could be a cold hearted killer.

Jeonghan didn’t miss the small shift of his hand or the softening of the detective’s dark eyes, and it was all the clue he needed.

That was his way in.

His physique wasn’t the only big thing about him, the detective must also have a big heart.

Sympathy.

That was his Achilles heel.

He sniffled again. Forcing back tears, he instead smiled sadly, “it never gets easier. They’re wrong to claim time heals all wounds, it only makes the pain root even deeper in your heart. Like a scar that doesn't ever quite fade.”

“It’s by those scars that those we lose live on with us.”

Jeonghan freezes. The words fall over him like ice water. A profound statement in a moment of clarity.

There it was again.

That familiar sting at the top of his sternum. An ache that seeped across his chest and up his throat like rising bile. Normally, he would swallow it back and replace the burning with pride, but now, looking into the deep brown of his interrogators eyes, he couldn't ignore it this time.

Jeonghan let the pain linger. Let his words punish him for his sins.

Scars never quite leave. Some see them as beautiful reminders, while to others they were nothing but painful eyesores. To Jeonghan it was a third and more complicated option. A mixture of both: a beautiful eyesore and a painful reminder of lives he took for his own gain. No matter the lies and excuses he told himself — they were rude, mean, selfish, they deserved it, whatever — those scars still remained.

Time couldn’t heal all wounds, and Jeonghan knew love certainly couldn’t, but it’s here in this odd moment of complex connection where he allows himself to see what love looks like for the first time.

It’s that soft, gentle shine of emotion in someone’s eyes when they look at you.

Just as Choi Seungcheol was looking at him now.

He knew it wasn’t a look of affection, or even true sympathy. This man was suspicious of him, and was using that look to break his walls.

It frustrated and aroused him at the same time.

There’s a stiff silence in the air. An odd shift in tension. It hangs heavy for a moment. Both men look at each other, or more precisely, try to look through each other.

When the tension seems long enough, Jeonghan breaks it.

“You know, for being a government organization your building really could use some polish.”

There’s an incline to Seungcheol's eyebrow at the sudden shift of topic, “polish?”

Jeonghan nods, continuing as if he and Seungcheol were old business partners simply discussing the weather, “the parking lot is terrible and the walls are practically crumbling outside. Plus, the ceilings are stained with god knows what. It’s just a shame for such a renowned department to be in such state of disrepair.”

Seungcheol finally sits back fully in his chair, leaving his pen on the desk as he folds his arms across his chest.

“We’re not exactly on top of the list for payouts.”

“Pity. You work to bring justice to our city. You should be rewarded for it.”

Seungcheol’s eyes narrowed, trying to read through Jeonghan’s words. There was more to this random statement, wasn’t there? He scratches his chin in thought for a moment before responding, “perhaps a gracious donor would like to give a donation to our establishment then.”

The briefest flicker of something like amusement gleams in Jeonghan’s eyes. Was that an acceptance of his bribe? He leans forward, both elbows on the table, his dark shirt slipping off his shoulder slightly, showing the thin line of his collarbone, just as he liked it.

“Oh, I bet someone could come along and give a donation. A very large and generous one.”

He slides his arms across the table, breaking the invisible barrier between the two of them in the interrogation room. He pulls the abandoned pen inward towards himself, curing it under his fingers until its grasped firmly in his palm. Then he pulls his arms back, never breaking eye contact with the detective.

“If that's all, I best be taking my leave now,” he stands, folding his coat over his arm delicately, taking his time, though his words suggest he’s in a rush, “I have a lunch meeting I'd rather not be late to.”

It’s then when Seungcheol remembers to breathe.

“Right. Of course. Thank you for your time Mr. Yoon.”

Jeonghan chuckles softly, moving over to the detectives side of the table. Before the man could stand to meet him, he placed a delicate but commanding hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting beneath him. He twirls the pen around his fingers once, twice, three times before lowering it slowly into the pocket of Seungcheol’s shirt. Leaning over him, he blocks the light, creating a looming shadow over his body.

The scent of something floral mixed with a warm amber undertone wafts over the detective in the close proximity. It’s a scent that lingers, hooking into his chest as he breaths it in, pulling him up and closer to the man above him.

Heavy eyelashes flutter as his eyes momentarily close. A dizzy expression overtaking his strong features.

That's when Jeonghan pulls away.

“It was nice chatting with you, Detective.”

His voice is low, a deliberate and gentle rasp. He watches smugly as Seungcheol’s Adam’s apple bobs forcefully as he swallows. Jeonghan quickly slips back to his sad smile, turning to leave out the door as he hopes his onlookers enjoyed his little display as well. Seungcheol watches him go, eyes wandering a bit despite himself.

It was the first time he met Yoon Jeonghan, and after that brief exchange, he already knew it certainly wouldn't be the last.

 

 

Chapter 5: Five

Detective Kim Mingyu stands behind the two-way mirror of the observation room, arms crossed in thought as he observed Yoon Jeonghan through his partner’s line of questioning.

He doesn’t look over when the door to the private room opens, a shorter figure entering to stand beside him and cross his arms in a similar stance.

“Does he think it’s the husband who did it?”

“You know him, he doesn't like to put all his chips on the table.” He glances over at Jihoon, “but he thinks he at least knows something he isn’t telling.”

Jihoon grunted in response.

“What do you make of him, Kim?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, brushing his bangs off his forehead, “it’s always easy to assume the spouse, but this guy seems just as surprised as anyone about his husbands death.”

“Let’s just hope Mr. Yoon doesn’t complain to the press about being questioned like this.”

“Cheol knows what he’s doing.”

They watch as Seungcheol takes his seat, his voice projected slightly into the small room as they listen in. As Jihoon took specific interest in Jeonghan’s defensive manor, the door creeks open again. Officer Lee’s voice calls softly, “Chief, you wanted to see me?”

Jihoon turns to the young recruit, “Lee, good. You should listen in on this, get some insight into how we run investigations.”

Chan moves to stand between his two senior officers, glancing between them before crossing his arms across his chest as well.

“You were concerned with your late husband’s health.”

Seungcheol’s projected voice echoed slightly in the room.

“As any loving partner would be.”

All eyebrows in the room raise slightly as they easily pick up on Jeonghan’s defensive tone.

“Could just be some agitation in being questioned like this…”

“...or could be guilt?”

Chan finishes Mingyu’s observation and the taller detective nods in response. “There’s not an exact science to determining if someone is being truthful or not, but there can be clear signs. Almost everyone has a tell.”

Chan watches Jeonghan’s side profile as he speaks. He keeps his chin up high, shoulders straight, keeps eye contact. It’s almost too perfect, like he was watching a play of an interrogation. He knew the truths of the world, spouses have killed their lovers for reasons less than money, but in his heart he didn’t want to believe this person could be guilty. Especially seeing them well up with emotion as they spoke of their partner.

Besides, they didn't even know for sure if there was any foul play in the first place. 

But there was more to it then being proper and stiff. There was a subtle tint to his glances, his eyes dropping to Seungcheol's lips as he speaks. 

“I have to agree with Cheol. He knows something, or at least is acting off. He keeps leaning in to him, like he’s telling him a secret with each tear.”

“Well, you heard him,” Mingyu adds to Jihoon’s observation, “he’s a fan of the theater. Maybe he was an actor.”

“That would explain the stiff demeanor.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Chan mutters, wondering if he should even be interrupting this moment, “it almost looks like he’s…”

Jihoon and Mingyu turn to give Chan a curious look, but as he goes to continue, however, he freezes.

The other two officers follow his gaze back into the interrogation room where they watch Jeonghan stand and lean over Seungcheol. Everything about his sudden proximity is seductive. As he slips the pen into his shirt his nails trace over the outline of the pen under the fabric. A slow, languid line from the tip of the pen to it’s base.

Oh.

Jeonghan leaves the room and their eyes turn now to watch Seungcheol.

His eyes were round and almost sparkling as he had looked up at his suspect. His professional mask was obviously cracked as his personal space was invaded, something his co-workers have never seen from the notoriously stoic detective. They watch as a trickle of black ink seeps into the fabric of his white shirt, creating a small Rorschach test design as it spreads down and across his chest.

The sudden leaking of his pen doesn’t seem to phase him, in fact it’s unclear if the detective even notices the dark, wet stain slowly creeping over his heart.

Surprise floods over the expressions of the three officers, but for Mingyu, it quickly turns into a wolfish grin.

Jihoon is the first to break the heavy silence, “Well, Chan, what did you learn?”

Chan swallows, shaking himself from the flustered state he was just in, “I uh, well, I noticed Mr. Yoon wasn’t wearing any kind of wedding ring.”

Jihoon and Mingyu look at each other, a more serious expression overtaking their previous ones. 

“Good eye, kid.”

 

Chapter 6: Six

“You can’t be serious.”

Seungkwan’s glass was halfway to his mouth before he paused to speak, the brunch on his plate now completely forgotten. Soonyoung glances between Seungkwan and Jeonghan, eyes wide with nervousness. The late morning air was warm, a slight breeze ruffled the umbrella above them as it blocked the sun from their table out on the patio. They’d often frequent this same restaurant downtown, and this morning it was set for four and completely private, per their usual reservation.

“What?” Jeonghan asked innocently, swirling the ice around his drink.

“You are not going after the detective.”

“I never said I was!”

“You just said, and I quote, ‘I have never been so enchanted by a man’.”

“Oh please, that means nothing…”

“Spare me, I know that look on your face, you’ve already made up your mind.”

There’s a beat of silence between the three of them as they wait for Jeonghan’s response.

“It’s a challenge.”

He mumbles over his drink as he stills it at his lips. Seungkwan groans, rubbing his temples as he leans on the table. Soonyoung continues to look between the two of them, clearly invested, but at the same time his mind seems elsewhere as he picks at his bottom lip with his nail absentmindedly.

Seungkwan lifts his head, “He’s literally investigating you! Here, Seokmin will tell you.”

Seokmin joins the table, slightly out of breath, “Sorry, had a fight with the copy machine again. What did I miss?”

“Tell Hannie he can’t seduce the detective.”

Seokmin’s eyebrows raise sharply as he sits down, “You absolutely cannot seduce the detective.”

Jeonghan groans, “oh come on, I didn’t say I was going to!"

“Don’t fight me on technicalities,” Seungkwan’s voice rose a bit higher and the others had to shush him. He leaned in closer to speak at a whisper, “besides, how much can a detective even make? It wouldn’t even be worth it.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow, “Oh, I see. You think I’m going to marry him. Am I not allowed to date around?”

“Jeonghan, I know Detective Choi. He’s not available, he’s married to his work.”

“So?”

“So, you’re also his main suspect. He thinks you’re a killer.”

“Well—”

Seokmin shakes his head, “this isn’t funny, Han. If they find out about you they could get all of us, and I’ve seen enough people who go to jail to know I don’t want to be one of them. It’s too much of a risk,” he glances at Soonyoung briefly, his words a bit sharper before he continues, “and you know I hate being the voice of reason.”

Jeonghan scoffs, “aren’t you the one getting friendly with one of the other detectives?”

Seokmin sits up straighter, “he only gave me his number, and for your information, I haven’t pursued him for the sake of our group.”

“How noble of your sacrifice,” the bitterness is evident in Jeonghan’s tone as he sits back more in his seat and tips back the last of his drink.

Soonyoung, uncharacteristically quiet, squeaks out, “Hannie…” but before he could say much more Seokmin continues, “sacrifice? You know what, yeah. You’re welcome for being the only one here who isn’t getting into an officer's pants and risking everything!”

The air is sucked from the patio, each of the men afraid to move in case they shatter the already broken glass between them. Except for Seokmin, who’s voice raises higher, months and perhaps years of built up frustration coming to light.

“Soonyoung sleeps with his close friend the Chief of Police every night and Seungkwan is probably still sexting that one scientist from the forensics department and that isn’t a problem, but so help me an officer expresses a little interest in me and it’s the end of the world. I have made sacrifices. I’ve worked late nights and risked my career to help you and worst of all I've even had to brush off someone who actually cares about me, all for you! It’s easy for you to pick up men, Jeonghan but some of us aren’t so lucky. Especially since you keep killing—”

“Seok!”

Seokmin pauses at Seungkwan’s outburst of his name long enough to take a breath, his face was bright red from shouting and for a moment he just stands there staring at nothing. Slowly, he sits back against the chair, as if a heavy weight was suddenly taken off his shoulders.

The words take a moment to settle in Jeonghan’s mind. They have to push past the rush of anger he feels immediately at being spoken to like this, but then once the words register, it’s like several light switches come on at once. He glances to each of the men around the table, his face expressionless.

Seungkwan looks mortified, a brush of shame on his face. He covers his phone with his hand, pulling it back onto his lap. His shoulders hunched, as if waiting for another bomb to go off.

Soonyoung is frozen in place, eyes wide and glistening with tears as he looks to Seokmin with an expression of pure betrayal.

When Jeonghan finally speaks his voice is calm, collected, calculating.

“When were you going to tell me?”

His question was open, not addressed to anyone in particular. Seokmin goes to speak again but Seungkwan places a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hannie. We…we’re not sure how long we can keep doing this. I mean, we’re lucky we’ve gotten this far, you’re lucky not to be on deaths row. We’ve been wanting to talk to you about it but wanted to give you some time first.”

“Some time? Time for what, me to grieve?”

“Jeonghan—”

“I can’t believe this! You’re all keeping things from me, talking behind my back, and now you’re flaking on me? Just like that?”

“Jeonghan, it’s not like that.”

“No. No I’ve heard enough. We made a deal to be in this together. Not just for the benefits but to support each of our passions,” he stands, throwing his jacket over his arm.

“Hannie, wait—”

“I’m sorry—”

“Maybe it is for the best we end this. I’ve always worked better alone anyway.”

Ignoring their protests he leaves the table, walking quickly down the street so they couldn’t easily follow. A cab quickly pulls over to the side when he holds out his arm for it as it passes. He tells the older man in the driver’s seat the name of his apartment complex and slips into the back seat. Once settled, the car sets off, weaving back into the busy traffic that seemed to always plague the downtown streets.

Jeonghan’s chest aches. He places a hand over his heart, feeling it’s beat tap against his fingers rapidly. He could hardly catch his breath, each intake of his lugs felt restricted and pained. His hands shook as he pulled out his compact mirror, hoping to distract himself by fixing his hair, but as he looks at himself in the small glass, flickers of past lives reappear.

A younger man, desperate and alone, long hair slicked back in a ponytail, a satisfied smile on his face whenever he could make his husband smile. A genuine sense of peace when they would lay up at night, huddled together on the couch after a glass or two of wine. Joshua would pull out his acoustic guitar, his voice gentle and sweet.

As sweet as the coffee he enjoyed every morning.

But on the night’s he wasn’t in his husbands arms, on those long tours for his band, he was with her.

That made it all too easy the first time.

Another reflection, a little older, hair now jet black and short over his forehead, more masculine, more sharp. Camera flashes and long moments frozen in poses for his husband to capture. His likeness preserved in oils and paint, sometimes even charcoal or small sketches in a notebook.

Minghao captured every detail, excruciatingly so.

He’d call Jeonghan perfect, a masterpiece. Until suddenly he wasn’t. Suddenly there were things he could change, a lift and tuck here and there, a few pounds to shed.

There was no love left in his heart after that.

Then there was his refection now.

All light and golden. He was practically glowing in the midday sun that streaked through the window past the buildings that lines the streets.

Yes, Wonwoo had been siphoning donations to fund his individual research, but did he deserve to die for it?

The pain in his chest tightened.

Yes. He did. They all did.

I was promised a life of luxury. That inheritance was mine.

But she was the golden child. Because she was beautiful, because she was smart.

Because she married first.

It was unfair.

For the second time today, he felt like he was making a mistake walking away, but it was for the best in both cases. Love was something he’d given up a long, long time ago, and Detective Choi…

Seungcheol...

he deserved to be loved.

In the mirror he catches a flicker of light glistening off something moving down his cheek. He presses a finger to the spot only to pull it back and find it wet with a single tear drop.

A real tear.

Not the one’s he has to force or craft, a genuine tear of emotion.

With a firm click he closes the mirror, stuffing it back in his bag. He had to hold it together, had to make it until he got home.

Normally he could take a single breathe and the ache and tightening would go away. Not completely, but enough where he could cover it.

Not this time.

This time it burned. A lingering bitterness in the back of his throat that made it hard to swallow, hard to breathe.

I can’t.

I can’t do this.

Not again.

 

 

 

 

Bang.

He was in his element. Hands steady, not a tremor to his stance.

Bang.

He was known to always hit his mark, giving him the nickname “Bullseye” in his rookie days.

Which he hated.

Bang.

So he was glad no one was around to see how he missed the target every shot tonight.

Every. Single. Shot.

They’d surely call him something worse than bullseye.

With a huff he lowers his gun, setting it down a bit too roughly on the counter in front of him. He leans against the divider between firing lanes, glaring over at the human shaped target he’d been aiming for. He’d gone through several rounds of bullets, having been at the training center for over an hour already. Each hit had punctured the target just a tad too far from the left of it’s chest.

A collection of his misses around a paper man’s heart.

“Damn, Bullseye. You’ve lost your touch.”

Mingyu’s voice calls through the mic on their protective headsets. He steps up to the range beside him, leaning against the same wall. He crossed his arms firmly against his chest, pulling the fabric of his black shirt so thin it was practically see-through.

Seungcheol sighs, a frustrated sound, but more at his own failures than his partner’s sudden appearance, “thought you went home.”

Before Mingyu can respond, he picks back up his handgun and clicks the magazine back into place with a fresh set of training bullets. Without caring to aim properly, he fires them all in quick succession. Again, none of them land anywhere near the center of the target. He curses loudly and slams down his empty gun.

“Cheol…” Mingyu places a hand on his shoulder to pull him gently away from the lane. And his gun.

“This case is driving my crazy.”

“Cheol.”

“I know there’s more to this.”

“Cheol?”

“I’m tired of waiting!”

“Choi Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol snaps his attention up to Mingyu, the sound of his full name sending a twitch of agitation through him. Before Cheol could start swinging, Mingyu holds up his hands innocently, “listen to me, I know you. We’ve been partners for years now. this isn't like you.”

“This case—”

“It’s not a case, not really, and you know that,” Mingyu shakes his head with a sigh, “But that’s not what I’m talking about, anyway.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. Mingyu continues.

“Like I said, I know you, and I also happen to know what this is.”

“Don’t you dare make this some joke about me getting to old—”

“That’s not where I was going with this… maybe its a bit related but, hey! Just, just listen.”

Seungcheol crosses his arms, his broad chest firm in his defensive stance. There’s a slight childish pout to this lips that he never quite grew out of when he was sulking. Mingyu did his best to hold back a snicker as he continued, “look, Cheol. This isn’t about this case, this is about that talk you had with Mr. Yoon.”

Seungcheol’s posture straightens just a fraction, “what about him?”

“Come on, don’t play dumb.”

Seungcheol tilted his head, like a puppy confused with what their master was trying to tell him. Mingyu groaned, “I can’t believe I have to be the one to tell you this. You have feelings for him.”

Seungcheol swallows thickly, then scoffs, “feelings? What are we, seventeen?”

“Well you were certainly acting like a teen with a crush.”

“Shut up—”

Seungcheol tries to move around him, already tired of the conversation, but Mingyu holds his shoulders, keeping him in place.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting out of this that easily. I’ve known you for years and I’ve never seen you look at someone like that. Like you’ve just seen an angel. The only thing even remotely close was when we walked by that bakery that had melon ppang and you were practically drooling at their display window.”

“I did not drool!”

“Okay, but you whined and begged me to stop and buy you one.”

“That was years ago.”

Mingyu makes an exaggerated face, “Exactly! The entire time I’ve known you, from training to when we were assigned together, I have never seen you date. Never seen you show any interest in anyone, until today.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m serious! You like him, right?”

“Gyu—”

“Right?!”

He shook his shoulders, giving Seungcheol a slight headache. He thought back to that morning with that gorgeous specimen sitting across from him and how his shirt was forever ruined by that stupid pen. He wasn’t completely stupid, he could tell Jeonghan had been openly flirting. The flaunting, the eye contact, the gaze lingering on his lips: all too obvious. But Seungcheol had filed it all away as evidence that Jeonghan was trying to distract from something, that he was just covering his guilt with flirtatious advances. Maybe he had dismissed it too quickly. But it was, in fact, an interrogation, and the man had just lost his husband, surly if he was flirting he was just using Seungcheol as some kind of rebound—

“Hey, come back to me.”

Mingyu’s voices and sharp snap of his fingers cuts through his wandering thoughts again, “sorry,” he mumbles, shaking his head awake.

“Save your apologies for yourself. If you let him get away, I fear you might never have another chance.”

“You’re being ridiculous, he just lost his husband.”

“And? That doesn't seem to bother him that much.”

Seungcheol sighs, opening his mouth to continue his argument when the training range door opens again.

Looking around curiously, Chief Lee slips into the room. His headset hangs around his neck and his gun still holstered in it’s place by his hip. His fingers idly twirl his signature dark shades as he took in the sight of the two detectives.

“Thought I heard you two back here. S’late. You should be home by now, or at least at Gemini’s.”

“Lee, tell Cheol he should ask his suspect out.”

Seungcheol’s face gets hot at Mingyu’s sudden words. He punches his shoulder, getting a pitiful whine and whimper from Mingyu as he rubbed where he had hit him.

Jihoon opens his mouth, then closes it. For a moment he seems to be deep in thought. He slips his sunglasses back on, despite being indoors, and hooks the headset over his ears. He turns his attention to the lane, eyes focused on the target.

Seungcheol expected judgment, or some kind of snide comment or retaliation for them messing around. He certainly wasn't expecting the response he does get.

Both detectives watch as Jihoon casually takes aim.

“You’re distracted, Choi.”

Bang.

“Normally I’d condemn pursuing a relationship like this through work, but…”

Bang.

“You’re in your thirties now. Single. No life outside these walls. You deserve to find happiness.”

Bang.

“We all do.”

His last words are quieter, barely heard over the hum of the AC unit in the corner. Both men stand silent as statues, absorbing this sudden and oddly emotional display from their boss who was known for thinking a grunt was equivalent to praise.

Jihoon looks between them and gives an annoyed tsk sound, something more familiar to hear from the Chief.

“Do what you want, both of you. Life is too short to…hide away from something greater.”

He holsters his gun again, turning from both of them quickly and leaves the room just as easily as he had entered.

The detectives look between each other, then to the door.

“You think he realizes we know he’s sleeping with that blond guy yet?”

They glance down at the target where Jihoon had just taken a few shots. Three holes were punctured right in the forehead of the cut-out.

“I’ve always been too scared to mention it…”

 

That night Seungcheol lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling in thought. His shirt unbuttoned half way and his tie loose around his shoulders like he had given up trying to undress himself.

Like an angel.

In a way he did feel like he had seen an angel, but there was something devious, devilish, underneath it. He knew it.

Or was that just another excuse he was making.

Thirty. Single. Alone.

I can’t.

I can’t do it.

I…

can’t.

 

 

Notes:

if i spelled someone's name wrong no i didn't lol

Chapter 7: Seven

“So there was this weird dust — except it wasn't dust — on the glasses and Hansol has been looking into it for the past few days but hasn’t been able to find the source of what it is yet. I think it’s some kind of sleeping power or something but it also could just be nothing. Detective Choi is really determined to make something out of this. I mean, there’s a lot of reasons why people die of heart attacks, not everything has to be murder, you know?”

Chan leaned on the counter, swinging his legs on the sides of his bar stool as he took small sips of his drink between sentences.

It was a usual night at Gemini’s. Busy, but still quiet and relativity secluded. It was just a short walk a couple blocks from the office, so it was a usual stop for a few officers before they made their way home for the night. It was one of the only places open from sundown to sunrise, never during the day. Some people liked to tease the owner, Wen Junhui, (more commonly referred to as Jun) and insist that he must be nocturnal. In truth, he just found he worked better at night, and he liked the company of those who wander in on those late evenings. They always had better stories to tell.

Jun stood on the other side of the counter, cleaning stubborn watermarks from a glass he’d washed earlier, “Sounds like he’s bored.”

Chan laughs, “Maybe. I mean there hasn’t been a big case in a while. Which is a good thing, of course.” He adds the last part quickly before taking a long swig of his beer.

“You said he even brought someone in for questioning?”

“Yeah, some blond guy named Yoon…I forget his first name. He thinks he killed his husband.”

Jun pauses, a barely noticeable hesitation in his movements before continuing, “for the insurance money?”

Chan shrugs, “probably. The guy was a doctor so he had at least some money lying around.”

“Hm,” Jun put away the glass. He looked like had something more to say to Chan but another patron calls his name and he steps over to take their order.

Chan looks down at his drink, taking the last swig of his beer. The empty bottle clinks on the table, slipping a bit in the condensation ring that had formed around it. If he was honest with himself, Chan would admit he was tired. He had worked so hard in training to get a spot in his desired precinct to work alongside the revered Detectives Kim and Choi. It was even better he could visit his friend from school, Hansol, pretty often. At first, the Chief made him nervous, but after a bit of time with him he had started to feel like they could get along just fine.

He wasn’t tired from his job or his new friends.

He was tired because of his heart.

It had been a week since his last episode, but the ache still lingered. The doctors had called it something with an “M”, some long medical word. Myo…mayo…myocardio…something. He should probably know, but it was easier to block it all out of his mind, assure himself he was fine. He couldn't lose this job, not after all he had done to secure it. Like any sickness, he hoped it would just go away on it’s own.

It was late.

He thought about grabbing another drink but decided against it.

He should sleep.

Jun was busy, so he couldn't properly say goodbye, but he’d be back soon anyway. He sets down the cash to cover the drink, plus a little extra as usual, and slid off his chair. As he walked out of the bar he passes another young man with his nose buried deep in his phone. He was obviously nervous as he chewed on his bottom lip. The man glanced up as Chan passed his table and gave a friendly and reassuring smile. The gesture seemed to catch the man off guard, but he soon softened and gave him a nod as Chan exited.

He headed home with a mentally, and physically, heavy heart.

Maybe tomorrow there would be more answers.

To everything.

 

Seungkwan glanced back down at his phone.

Had that guy really smiled at him? That was actually really sweet. Didn’t seem to be the one he was waiting for, though.

Seungkwan let out an impatient groan as he slumped fully onto the booth table, his face pressed against the wood. It was only a minute past their meeting time, but he already felt hopeless. He whined to himself, “that’s it, I’m gonna die alone.”

After a beat of silence he heard someone clear their throat beside him. He lifted his head to see a man with sharp eyebrows, round eyes, and short hair.

Could it be?

“Uh, TangieBear16?” the man’s voice was low, a bit deep and unsure of himself. A familiar rasp that Seungkwan would hear in their late night phone calls.

“218DirtyTee?”

The man chuckles, clearly amused by the way Seungkwan’s eyes had lit up as he said his screen name. He slides into the booth across from him, leaning with his arms folded on the table, “Yeah, but uh, Hansol is fine since we’re, you know, on an actual date.”

Hansol. He knew his name, they’d shared them before, but it felt even better to hear it in person and see his mouth form the syllables.

“Seungkwan! I’m…Seungkwan.”

“I know,” Hansol smiles, a clear fondness he hides with a cough, “so, I’m glad we decided to finally meet up.”

“Me too,” Seungkwan mentally kicks himself for being so eager, “I had almost given up on those stupid dating apps until we started talking,” he chuckles, trying to act nonchalant, “I can’t even remember who messaged first.”

“You did,” Hansol answers immediately, “all you said was ‘woof’ then about five minutes later you added ‘sorry’.”

Seungkwan flushes, both at the embarrassment for his first impression being so lame but also that Hansol still remembered it, “ah, well, I’d had a few drinks before I saw your profile.”

“I know,” Hansol says again, “you then apologized for messaging so late and that you were drunk and then asked what I was wearing.”

"I…” Seungkwan scrambles in his memory, “I did not ask you that!”

Hansol chuckles, blinking a few times. He had abandoned his glasses to try and look nicer but of course had forgot his contacts, so unfortunately his date was just a tad blurry, but still just as cute as he was on a screen.

“It’s okay. Like I’ve told you, I like your late night drunk texts, and the occasional calls.”

“Oh, lucky me then.”

“Mmhm, lucky.”

They stared across from each other for a moment, the heat between them almost palpable in the room.

Seungkwan eventually can’t meet his eyes anymore and glances over to the bar, “so, you said you come here pretty often. What’s the best drink?”

Hansol was tired, exhausted even, after working just about nonstop on that stupid powder. He had been looking forward to finally meeting up with Seungkwan after weeks of relentless flirting, and in that moment looking at the man he was quickly falling for finally across him, he knew he would need something stronger than anything Jun would have in stock.

“Actually, the best drinks are at my place.”

Seungkwan’s eyes snap back to Hansol just in time to see the polite smile fade into a knowing smirk. He recalled Seokmin’s words from earlier that morning, about getting into officer’s pants and whatnot. Now, without having to worry about Jeonghan catching him, he could finally have his turn.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

His voice drips with suggestion, and their table is soon abandoned. The soft bell of the bar door ringing out after them.

 

Notes:

verkwan? in MY jeongcheol fic? more likely than you think...

Chapter 8: Eight

Jeonghan knew he was going to hell.

He had come to terms with that fact years ago, but he didn’t realize he would be living in it so soon.

The days crawled by, each more painfully quiet than the next. He deliberately ignored every text and attempted phone call from any of his friends. Seokmin tried to call twice before going silent, and Seungkwan still texted every day and called at their usual time right after dinner.

Soonyoung hadn’t said a word since the day they all split. It was unlike him, and made Jeonghan worry, but his stubbornness kept him from reaching out.

For the first time since he left his family, he felt truly alone.

He had grown up alongside Seungkwan, their families both wealthy and in close circles. They lived just a few homes away from each other in the same gated neighborhood. Attended school together, survived the world of wealth and it’s expectations together. He felt like he lost all sense of direction when the Boo family moved away to an island they owned, taking Seungkwan reluctantly with them.

Everything changed after that.

His younger sister, the favorite child, was proposed to that summer, and they were married by Christmas.

It was like he didn’t exist.

His sister, of course, was an angel. He stood up in the wedding and she made him feel included but she was clueless to the way their parents only doted on her. Everything was always about her. His final straw was finding out his father had completely removed him from his will in replace of his brother-in-law casually over a family dinner. Like he had just brought up something from the morning paper.

He left that night and never turned back.

Seungkwan let him stay in a guest room at his family home after that. The Boo family had always seen him as an extension of their family, and despite being friends with Mr. and Mrs. Yoon, they couldn't imaging loving their three biological children any different then the rest. They found it unfair, but never tried to reason with the Yoon’s. It wasn’t their place.

In their twenties, they planned to move out together, start a new life.

While they were roommates, they ran into their neighbors Soonyoung and Seokmin.

Seungkwan and Jeonghan had been arguing about something senseless, probably who had fed Bookkeu last since they were out of pet food. Jeonghan had thrown open their front door in a huff to leave only to find the two men pressed up against the door, clearly listening. After looking like a deer caught in headlights, Seokmin dropped his keys in an attempt to play it off while Soonyoung could hardly hold back his laugh.

Jeonghan grew fond of them immediately.

He could tell they were of similar minds and interests to him and Seungkwan.

They invited the two of them over for dinner that night. Seungkwan and Seokmin became fast friends and Soonyoung worked as the happy-go-lucky glue that held everything together.

Seokmin had wanted to study law, but for whatever reason, it was a dream he decided to set to the side, instead working small office jobs that paid the bills but didn’t necessarily fulfill him. It was something that Jeonghan could relate to, and made them bond over their shadowed dreams.

Soonyoung was a model with a high drive for life, and other things. He seemed to run through a new companion weekly, but his smile never faded. It annoyed Jeonghan a first, how someone could be so cheery playing life so fast and loose, but he also hoped by proxy that some of that relentless happiness would rub off on him.

Seungkwan was still living off his parents allowance, but when he wasn't playing with the local badminton club, he dabbled in his interest in tech. Creating apps, coding sites, things Jeonghan’s brain could never really wrap around.

They made an admittedly fun team, spending most of their time together gossiping and sharing details of rumors they’d hear in their daily lives.

Jeonghan never felt like he quite found his place. He worked odd jobs here and there, but nothing ever felt right. In truth, he didn’t want to work. He wanted to live in the wealth he was raised in. But instead here he was, working.

He had worked a week at the coffee shop on the corner before he met Joshua Hong.

He was clearly mortified to see Seungkwan had brought his family friend to visit him while on the clock, especially now seeing this friend he had spoken of so much was gorgeous.

With a smile, he said Jeonghan looked cute in his apron.

That was all it took for him to feel like he was in love.

A compliment and a smile.

Joshua, or Jisoo as Seungkwan had known him, actually grew up in the same neighborhood as them, but was homeschooled and had moved to the states with his family at a young age. The Boo’s and Hong’s had kept in touch, and Joshua had wanted to return to his hometown for some inspiration for his music, and so it felt as is the universe itself was bringing him back in Jeonaghan’s life just for him.

Their love tasted of wine and late nights. Their marriage just as sweet.

It was sudden and in secret, an elopement away from the public eye of his fans and the potential judgment from anyone else.

Jeonghan never planned to be a killer, never planned to use his creations to destroy what he once loved.

As he sat at the dining table of his isolated apartment, looking out at the sunset behind the small desk where his flowers bloomed, he felt heavy as memories flooded over him.

In his endeavors to try and find himself outside of his family’s cold shadow, he discovered he had an adoration for plants. Flowers specifically. He poured himself into studying botany, more specifically the science of breeding certain plants to obtain desired results. It gave Jeonghan this sense of control, manipulation, and it was highly addictive. The hobby was mainly experimenting, at first working on a specific flower that could be made into a tea to quickly cure a sore throat. (Since Joshua would occasionally get them and it made his singing career difficult.) A carefully curated mix of chamomile, licorice and marshmallow plant. For months the plant grew no flowers like he had wanted. In his frustration at his believed failure, he soaked the plant in bleach, leaving it to die on its own accord. The next day, he went to dispose of it properly only to discover it had grown three times in size and blossomed with bright white flowers, tiny and delicate. After testing, it was clear the flowers were highly alkaline. If he were to dry them for tea, it would take out all the water that diluted it, leaving behind a dangerous to consume powder.

It fascinated him, but he never thought he would have a purpose for it, other than perhaps manufacturing some kind of household cleaner.

Seungkwan had been the one to break the bad news to him.

It broke something in him. Seeing his love, his husband, with another in his arms.

That was the genesis of the Jeonghan that existed today. 

That was the first time his creation instead became his weapon.

As he stared at those same flowers they almost mocked him.

It would be so easy, he already knew how to do it. Take just enough that he’d drift off in his sleep, it would be a peaceful and deserved end.

First, however, he needed a drink, and he had just run out of wine.

 

He hadn’t been to this bar before, but that was a good thing. He’d been frequenting the ones closer to his home and was starting to worry he was becoming a regular. The last thing he needed getting out was that he was some kind of alcoholic.

He picks a seat at the bar, glancing over the selections of bottles behind the counter. There were only a few other people in the relativity small establishment, mostly caught up in conversations of their own. Paintings lined the exposed brick walls, splashes of color against the otherwise dull background. They gave a soft and homey feel, but yet something foreign all the same.

He was just wondering to himself if they were all from the same collection when a tall man in a black turtleneck and dark hair approaches him, slinging a small red towel over his shoulder. He leans against the other side of the bar.

“New face,” he observes, following Jeonghan’s gaze to the bottles and menu, “I assume you’re here for a drink? Pick your poison.”

Poison.

Jeonghan swallowed back the emotion that surfaced with this choice of words and put on a smile.

“Whatever’s strongest…but keep it sweet.”

The man, who was probably safe to assume was the bartender if not the owner, nods, “I can work with that.” He turns to start pulling bottles off the shelves as Jeonghan settles back into his chair with a sigh. He adjusts his dark sweater back to sitting off of his shoulders slightly, where it was supposed to lay. Damned thing never stayed in place.

Feeling eyes on him, he turns to the side and finds a pair of familiarly deep brown eyes looking back.

He wasn’t quick enough to cover his surprise, “Detective Choi?”

 

 

Seungcheol had been in a hell of his own this past week.

A new case was opened several days ago when the body of a young man was found tucked behind a dumpster, just blocks from the precinct. It was fresh, still warm when spotted by an unfortunate bystander.

There was nothing. No trace of a weapon, no obvious cause of death. It was a mystery, but settled as an isolated discovery. Then, two days later, there was another body. An older body, several months into decay, stuffed in a crate in an alleyway. Every warning sign in Seungcheol’s mind was blaring.

They were connected.

This was made clear when a third body was found, a young woman, recovered almost a month from time of death.

The news had already gotten swept away in the mystery of the first body, but by the third it was chaos. Chief Lee was broken record.

“We cannot determine at this time if there is foul play involved, let alone any evidence of a serial killer on our streets.”

A serial killer.

Despite Jihoon’s reassurance to the public, everyone at the agency was on high alert. The signs were all there: bodies in similar conditions, around a similar radius, all that was missing was a through-line.

A motive.

A real connection.

His previous investigations into the death of Dr. Jeon now long filed away in the back of his mind.

He had higher priorities now.

Now that the news had picked it up, he was sure this killer had decided to take a step back, or at the very least find a less sloppy way to dispose of his victims.

He was exhausted, chasing a ghost. There had been more thorough investigations now, just about every alley in town was scraped through with a fine toothed comb. Nothing. He practically lived at the office now, and was only out tonight after Mingyu’s encouragement for him to get some real sleep. He even got Jihoon involved who forced him to take a mandatory weekend off.

But Seungcheol couldn’t sleep.

So he went to the only other place that he could think of.

Jun already had his usual whisky poured before he could even sit down. The short glass pushed over to him as he took his usual place at the bar.

“You look like hell warmed over, Choi.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be death warmed over?”

“I thought that would be a bit insensitive considering…”

Seungcheol lets out a puff of air from his nose, lifting the drink towards Jun in thanks before taking a sip, “I don’t know if I should be concerned or not that you had my order ready.”

Jun chuckles, wiping his hands on a towel to the side, “you ever think of trying something new for once?”

He glances over his glass as he takes another swig.

“I need something consistent in my life.”

Jun nods, giving a deep hum in response, “Well, that’s what Gemini and I are here for.”

Seugcheol thinks for a moment, swirling the amber liquid around before raising it to his lips again. “Maybe next time I’ll ask for ice,” he murmurs. He knew he should get his mind off work, but the gears continued to spin. Perhaps Jun knew something about the victims. As he goes to ask, the door of the bar opens quickly, rustling the bell at the front.

No.

It couldn’t be him.

 

“Detective Choi?”

“Mr. Yoon.”

“What are you doing here?” Jeonghan asks, immediately feeling foolish for asking a question with an obvious answer. Seungcheol lifts his half-empty glass.

“Getting a drink. Same as you it seems. You sound surprised.”

“I just… didn’t expect to see you out in a public place like this.”

Seungcheol laughs, but its more of an exhale, “despite what my coworkers say, I don't actually live at the office.”

Jeonghan, still a bit on edge at seeing him so unexpectedly, finds himself laughing softly. Jun arrives between them, setting a pink-tinted drink in a tall glass towards Jeonghan. He turns his attention back to the bartender, giving him a small word of thanks before going to take a sip.

“Don’t you wanna know what’s in it?” Jun asks, clearly amused.

Jeonghan responds by taking a long drink of it, letting it hit his throat and warm his cheeks, the effects almost immediate. He holds back a cough. He did ask for something strong.

“Tastes good, that’s all that matters to me.”

Jun chuckles, shaking his head, “let me know if you want another, but I’d recommend sipping on that for a while. I’ve used cleaners half as strong.”

Jeonghan smiles faintly, giving another thanks to Jun as he moves to help another patron.

There was a silence that lingered between the man and the detective. Not quite an awkward silence, but not quite comfortable either.

It was only broken by the sudden buzzing of Jeonghan’s phone. With a heavy sigh he pulls it from his pocket to turn off the notification and set it on the counter. The phone now silently lit up with “Kwannie” for the caller ID.

Seungcheol could have ignored it, could have sat there and finished his drink quickly and said goodnight and finally go home.

But he didn’t.

“How are things going for you, Mr. Yoon?” He then quickly adds, “I suppose that was a stupid question. Sorry.”

Jeonghan stirs the ice around his drink with his finger nail. Perhaps it was the mix of alcohol and coincidence of the circumstance, but he found himself answering honestly, “lonely.” With a heavy sigh he continues, “I’m not used to this… to being alone. But maybe it’s what I was meant to be all along.”

He buries his head in his hands, silent for a moment before there’s a subtle shaking of his shoulders as he desperately tries to hold back a sob.

He couldn’t cry, not now, not like this. He thought he had shed all of his real tears earlier. It he was thinking straight perhaps he would think to use this to his advantage, to still appear as the sorrowful and mourning widow he should be.

But he was tired, and he was at the end of his rope.

He couldn’t play pretend anymore.

Seungcheol watches him a moment, the dull ache in his chest growing stronger. He reaches out a hand as if to touch him.

He looks so soft.

So soft and delicate what if I break him?

He hesitates a moment, his hand hovering in the air between them. He pulls his fingers into a fist, clenching it a moment before finally placing his hand gently on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

The shaking stops, a few sniffles can be heard behind his hands.

His thumb naturally rubs over the delicate fabric of his sweater, slipping a bit over into the bare skin peeking out from it.

He shouldn’t be initiating this. He was a grieving widow. And obviously a bit drunk. He couldn't take advantage of this.

As he goes to pull his hand way Jeonghan whispers, so soft he almost misses it, “thank you Detective.”

“Please, Seungcheol is fine.”

Jeonghan looks over at him.

There’s a flicker between them as their eyes meet, a new warmth and flame catching fire.

Like a match just struck.

“Well, Seungcheol.” Jeonghan wipes delicately under his eyes to brush away any tears, “I feel like you must know everything about me, but I, unfortunately, know nothing about you, except your name of course. Seems we're stuck with small talk.”

Cheol chuckles, “there's not much left to know. My work is my life.”

His shoulders fall a bit at the truth of that statement. A little embarrassed and reluctant, he shifts the conversation back to Jeonghan.

“And I'm a detective, not a mind reader, unfortunately, so I can only know so much. I may know Yoon Jeonghan, but I don’t know you.”

“I'm afraid I don't either”

The response is deeper than Seungcheol was expecting. It takes him a moment to continue.

“Well, I know you’re a patron of the arts. That’s a place to start.”

“…when I was a kid I wanted to be an actor.”

“No kidding.”

The faintest beginning of a smirk flickers on his lips, “shocking, huh? I've been told I've got a natural talent for the dramatics. But I didn’t have a drive towards the silver screen. I wanted the stage. It’s so much more impactful, more intimate. You live in the scene. You have to be perfect, at all angles.”

“Why didn’t you pursue it?”

“Well I…couldn't afford the schooling. At the time at least.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. More that his family made sure to spend as little of their fortunes on him that they could, and once he was on his own starting from scratch, it seemed like a hopeless fantasy anyway.

Jeonghan looked like he came from wealth, so this surprised Seungcheol.

“It’s never too late to chase a dream.”

“Ah, for me I'm afraid it is.”

There’s a moment of silence yet again. Still an odd concoction of emotions until Seungcheol states, “you know, as they say, the whole world is a stage, So perhaps in some way you can still fulfill that part of yourself.”

Jeonghan glances over to him again, taking in his loosened tie and worn leather jacket. There was nothing but that same compassion in his eyes. It almost hurt to see it so vividly.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Choi Seungcheol.”

Normally hearing his full name would make him flinch, but hearing Jeonghan say it almost made him swoon.

“Well, I don’t have a minor degree in psychology for nothing.”

“Do you now? You must be able to read people like a book.”

“Some are more legible than others.”

“I also like flowers,” Jeonghan blurts out.

“Like gardening?” Seungcheol doesn’t miss a beat.

Jeonghan almost looked offended.

“More sophisticated then tomatoes and strawberries. I breed plants. Flowers especially.”

“Like you invent new ones?”

“Mm, more or less, yes. I even have one named after me. The Han Yoon Orchid.”

“Why not your full name?”

“That would have been too vain.”

Conversation flowed as easily as the liquor in their cups.

Time passing like the condensation pooling beneath the glass.

 

It was late, well past midnight by now and Jeonghan felt oddly guilty for taking up so much of Seungcheol’s time. Especially after seeing him yawn.

“I suppose I better be going. They must be closing soon.”

“Actually, Jun keeps the place open all night.”

“Oh. You must be tired, though, I’m sure you’ve been working long days with all those…incidents I keep hearing on the news.” Jonghan slips off the chair and looks to signal to Jun that he’s ready to pay. Seungcheol leans further over the bar, putting up his hand and nodding to Jun, signaling he was paying for them both.

Jeonghan doesn’t argue.

“Do you live far?” Seungcheol finds himself asking after he pays.

“Just a short drive. If it wasn't so late i could probably walk.” he glances outside to see heavy raindrops starting to dampen the sidewalks, “or if it wasn't raining.”

“You shouldn’t be out alone regardless. Let me get you a cab at east.”

“You've kept me company tonight that's far more then necessary.”

“I insist”

Again, Jeonghan doesn’t argue.

Seungcheol leads him outside, slipping off his jacket and holding it over Jeonghan's head to block the rain, an absentminded gesture that means more than Jeonghan had the words to express. He signals for a cab, easy to find since they usually park near the bar for late night drinkers anyway. Jeonghan slips in, followed by Seungcheol. With the recent cases he had been working on, his mind was driven by paranoia and a newfound sense of protectiveness. He needed to physically see Jeonghan enter his home safely.

If Jeongahn was against this he gave no protest.

The two sit beside each other in silence. This time, it’s more comfortable, more familiar, but something lies beneath it.

Something warm and bubbling and begging to be acknowledged.

Jeonghan didn't question him when he followed him into his apartment complex and road the elevator to a higher floor with him. The silence still following them, like the lingering scent of cologne.

When they reached the door Seungcheol found his voice. “It was nice seeing you again, Jeonghan.”

The name was sweet on his lips, too sweet. Too tempting.

“The pleasure was mine, Seungcheol.”

Even sweeter. Too sweet.

The doorway acted as an invisible barrier between them as Jeonghan stepped inside and turned to face him.

He couldn’t take advantage of this, he was drunk. Both of them were.

He was tired.

He was grieving.

But wouldn’t that be all the more reason to just…

“Goodnight, Detective.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Yoon.”

And the door closed between them.

Notes:

fun fact: I actually have a flower named after me in real life. It’s also an orchid. Though i definitely have whatever the opposite of a green thumb is sadly.

Chapter 9: Nine

The door opens before his fist could make contact with it.

A beat of silence.

Heavy, lingering, waiting.

The world was suddenly set in slow motion as their eyes lock together

and then…

it fast forwards.

Jeonghan’s hand grips Seungcheol’s tie as the detective steps into the room towards him, the momentum carries him forward against his body as the door slams behind them.

As soon as their bodies touch so do their lips, crashing together in a desperate press of desire. 

Their moans mingled, breaths staggered and uneven, it was soft and bruising and sweet and intense all at once. 

It wasn’t enough.

Seungcheol’s hands find every inch of skin he can reach. His shoulders, his collarbone, his neck, his jaw. Against Jeonghan's smaller frame his hands feel much too large.

He was so scared to break him, so scared to be too much.

Jeonghan did not have the same reservations. His hands found their way across Seungcheol’s chest, loosening his tie with practiced ease. Then they moved higher, tracing his arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Biting at his bottom lip and pushing past the seam with his tongue.

He tasted like whisky and something new entirely. 

It wasn’t enough.

Seungcheol doesn't break the kiss to shrug off his jacket, discarding it to the side in the entryway. He moans lowly as Jeonghan’s fingers messily find his hair, raking through the still slightly damp strands before slipping back down to start undoing the buttons of his dress shirt.

He groans again against his lips, pulling away for a moment to look at the man in his embrace.

Eyes half lidded, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

Beautiful.

All Jeonghan could stare at was his lips.

That was all the confirmation the detective needed.

He hooks his arms around the back of his thighs and picks him up needing him closer, needing control. He reveled in the feeling of his long legs wrapping around his waist. Any proximity between them now diminished to nothing. There was hardly enough room to breathe as Seungcheol had him pressed up and against his chest, so close he could swear he felt his heart beating in time with his. He had to tilt his head up now to kiss him, and the new angle sent a wave of warmth that pooled deep within him. Blindly, he stumbles to where he could recall seeing a couch in the brief moment before his eyes were closed. Once he finds his way there, he lays Jeonghan down under him, hands bracing on either side of him as he settles between his legs.

The silence still remained, apart from their heavy breathing and the rain spattering against the large windows of the penthouse.

There wasn't any need for words. Their eyes communicated all that was needed to be said.

Tell me to stop.

Don't you dare.

Another desperate whine leaves Seungcheol’s lips as he lowers himself to kiss him again. This time more delicate, slow. Tasting him instead of devouring. Each moan and movement from Jeonghan burned deliciously underneath him as his hands trailed up and down his back. The subtle scrape of his nails making him shiver uncontrollably.

His own hands trailed down lower and lower, until he reached the hem of Jeonghan’s sweater.

This damn sweater.

Take it off me then.

Gladly.

He took his time. Savoring every inch of skin that was revealed to him.

Jeonghan lifted his arms and suddenly he was laid bare beneath him. Seungcheol’s breath caught firmly in his throat. Taking it all in.

Taking him all in. 

In the dim light from the cityscape below them, he looked heavenly.

Jeonghan had never been seen like this. He’s been in similar positions before, sure, literally and figuratively, many times, but not like this.

Seungcheol looked down at him like he was something holy, like his eyes weren’t worthy to look upon him. He watched as Seungcheol moves a shaky hand to slip off his glasses, setting them on the coffee table beside them without really looking where they were placed, his focus only on Jeonghan. Then he leans in again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, lingering there a moment before moving down to do the same to his chin, then to his jaw, a few languid kisses down his neck. Each touch of his lips coaxing sweet sounds from the man he was worshiping.

He continued his journey south. Placing warm kisses against his shoulders, nipping at his collarbone before moving down even further.

Between each kiss he would glance up through his lashes to watch Jeonghan’s face. Drinking in the look of bliss, want, and a hint of shock.

He kept going, tracing a line down from his sternum to his waist, his fingers digging into his hips as he reaches the waistband of his pants. Fingers moving to hook beneath the fabric, still trembling slightly.

Can I?

Jeonghan smirks, lifting an eyebrow. Unable to resist.

Can you what?

For the first time in a long time, Seungcheol smiles, his lips curling at the edges into a smirk. Two could play at this game.

Please?

His lips were pouted, eyes round as he leaned his head against Jeonghan’s leg.

Well, how could I refuse?

 

One night.

That’s all it was supposed to be.

A drunken escape and distraction from the weight of the world around him.

But Seungcheol had the weekend off, and when the fog cleared from their minds and they woke in each others arms, neither could bare to leave the newfound warmth shared between them.

So one night became two.

When he had to take himself away from his lover early on Monday morning it about killed him.

Walking into the office again like nothing happened felt surreal. He wondered if it was all a dream. A drunken hallucination from exhaustion.

It was the smug look on Mingyu’s face that finally woke him from his longing trance.

“Well well well…look who’s late to work.”

“I am not late.”

“Later than usual. I’m never here before you.”

“Don't celebrate too hard.”

Seungcheol makes a line straight to the coffee machine. Filling up a disposable cup and sighing when it barely fills it halfway. He goes to start another pot when he notices Mingyu leaning on the counter beside him, watching him with that same stupid smirk.

“Something on my face?”

“No, more like something's missing.”

Seungcheol furrows his eyebrows,

“Ah, there it is.”

“You’re in a good mood today. Seokmin finally stop rolling his eyes at you?”

“No, but he did say ‘good morning Mingyu’ instead of my last name, so I think he wants me.”

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol.

Mm, Seungcheol!

He thinks back to his name pouring out of those pretty lips. How he could listen to it all day and all night if allowed the pleasure.

“Or he’s messing with you,” he shakes himself from his memory, defaulting back to his usual banter with his partner.

“Possibly. I'll take anything at this point. But that's not the only reason I'm in a good mood.”

“You find the killer while I was away?”

Mingus mood shifts slightly, his smirk fading “no.”

“Any leads?”

“No.”

“Then what could you possibly have to smile about?”

“You're a real buzzkill you know that? Maybe we should start calling you that instead of bullseye.”

“Please don't bring that back.”

Mingyu clears his throat, putting back on his smile as he leans closer, invading Seungcheol’s space, “I happened to stop by Gemini’s with Chan on Saturday. You know Jun, he’s an honest man. When I asked if you’d been by lately he said you were there Friday night…and left with a rather pretty gentleman.”

Damn it, Jun.

“Now, I can't help but wonder,” he slings an arm over his shoulder, “was this the same pretty gentleman I know of? Or did someone else manage to catch your fancy?”

“Don’t be an ass, Gyu, I know he told you.”

Mingyu’s knowing grin turns into a full blown smile. He whistles lowly, “our hardened detective finally loosening up, huh? Ah, but I bet you just escorted him home. Too much of a gentleman for anything else.” He sighs dramatically, “it’s like you said, he’s a widow. All alone and lonely, looking for a big strong man to—”

“Kim! Choi! Office, now!” Jihoon’s voice booms over the distant ringing phones and conversation. Mingyu stands up straight, moving his arm back to his side after patting Seungcheol on his shoulder.

Seungcheol sighs deeply.

Coffee would have to wait.

 

 

“Another body was found late last night.”

The three men gather around the Chief’s desk. Files of new reports litter the space between them as they look over the information. Mingyu bites on his thumb nail in thought, while Jihoon and Seungcheol stand with their arms crossed. The situation was only getting worse, morphing into a physical weight on all their shoulders. Even the room itself felt heavy.

Seungcheol immediately thinks of Jeonghan at this news, but he saw him this morning. He was safe.

“This one was old. Less of a body and more like remains.”

“Where at?”

“Gold Street.”

“That’s close.”

“I can't believe these have been laying around right under our nose the whole time.”

“If that first one hadn’t been found we may have never recovered the others. It's only because everyone has their eyes open now we can finally see them,” Jihoon leans his hands on the desk, chewing his lip in frustration.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu sighs.

“We have Chwe and his team working with the morgue on the bodies. There’s signs that they were drained of fluids postmortem, there’s damage to the arteries in the first body.”

“So, what, we’re dealing with a vampire?”

“I wish it was that simple. Vampires have weaknesses and tells. A steak through the heart or just line the streets with garlic to keep ‘em away. Man is a whole other monster. This could be anyone, and they’re still out there.”

“That gives us a lead on motive, or at least a direction,” Seungcheol speaks up, still staring down at the crime scene photos with a critical eye, “someone with at least some kind of medical knowledge.”

“Or just a freak with a weird hobby.”

“Whoever they are, I want to see them burn for this,” Jihoon’s voice raises, he takes a moment to breathe before continuing, his voice much softer now, “this is not the way I like to solve missing persons cases.”

 

 

He could still see his face.

Skin pale, hands grasping at his chest and neck in pain. It had been too much. A miscalculation.

The reaction happened all too quickly.

His husband.

The first.

His lips turning blue.

Love?!

He woke to the sound of police sirens. For a moment his heart stopped. This was the end. But just as quick as they started they faded into the distance.

He couldn’t sleep after that.

Sitting up in bed he slips his legs over to the side, his feet dangling over the carpet.

Across the hall from his room, he could make out the shape of Wonwoo’s door in the darkness. He hadn’t opened it since the day he died. He didn't dare breathe in his scent or run his fingers over his sweaters. He didn't exist anymore.

It was just Jeonghan now.

But last night he wasn’t alone, nor was he the night before that. He glances over to the side of his bed where he could still picture him. His hair all mussed from sleep and entanglement, smiling at him in the morning sun, his naked back on glorious display where it peeked out from the sheets.

He had smiled waking up next to Jeonghan.

He had kissed his forehead when he left.

Just like Wonwoo did.

Jeonghan cries out, a mangled sound of heartache as he throws his pillow across the room. It hits the wall with a dull thud before sinking to the floor in a heap by the door. He doubles over, clutching his hair in his hands.

He felt sick. He felt empty.

Seungcheol had left his number in case of emergencies.

To Jeonghan, this was an emergency. If he was alone any longer he just might…

He throws on the nearest shirt he can find and dials the number on his phone.

Please pick up.

Don’t leave me.

 

Seungcheol groans, rubbing his eyes under his glasses as he looks at the same list of names and photos that have stared back at him for hours.

All missing persons from the last year, all in their twenties or above. What did they have in common? What connected them?

Perhaps there was no connection at all. Just a trail of bodies, mocking him.

Mocking them all.

He barely hears his cell phone ring in the empty office space. Glancing at the screen it shows an unknown but local number.

It could be him.

He answers quickly after that.

“Hello?”

“Seungcheol?”

The teary sound of his name makes his heart clench, he stands from his desk already heading to the door. “Are you okay? Where are you? What’s happening?”

“I can’t…can't sleep.”

He pauses at the exit, leaning against the doorway as he releases a sigh of relief. He’d usually be frustrated at something like this, but hearing him call his name so late in the night for help melted the ice over his heart. “I’ll be right over.”

“I can't…stay here. These walls they...Seungcheol? Can I…please can I come over?”

“I’m at the office right now,” he glances at the clock on the wall, “but I'll get a cab and pick you up okay? Don't go anywhere until I call you down.”

“Okay.”

His voice was so soft and scared.

Everything protective within Seungcheol flared brightly, like the furnace of a steam train, it guided him forward.

Towards the light.

His light.

Or his ruin. 

“I'm on my way. I'll be there soon.”

He heads out of the office, leaving the piles of photos and names behind. 

Forgotten. 

Chapter 10: Ten

Mingyu might as well have been glued to his desk.

The mere mention of a serial killer had him, and everyone else in the office, on edge. He twirls a pen absentmindedly around his fingers, deep in thought as he stares at the same pile of papers that now resided indefinitely in his space. Normally, he was the optimist, easily finding the light in every situation to combat his partner’s gloomy disposition.

This was different.

Not having answers made him nauseous. He’d barely eaten or slept. The only thing that had kept him going was hearing Seokmin say his name that morning.

Killer.

Serial killer.

The words bleed over his page of documents and ring in his mind. The bodies had all been within a mile of the police station he was sitting at this very moment.

What if he was next?

The thoughts consumed him so much he nearly jumped from his skin at the familiar sound of his name.

“Hey, Mingyu.”

His pen clatters to his desk as he turns to see Seokmin leaning against the wall, the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes seeing Mingyu be startled.

“H-hey Suc—Seokmin,” he coughs, placing a hand over the pen to stop it from rolling to the floor. “Got something for me?”

“Yeah, a question. When are you taking me out to dinner?”

He paused, “dinner?”

“Yeah dinner. You know, going to get food, getting to know each other, it’s usually what happens after you talk with someone for a while.”

Mingyu’s mind goes to the late night texts and occasional photos exchanged within the secrecy of his screen. Nothing beyond the shoulders, but that left it all the more a mystery of what was under the covers.

“Tonight.” he says with finality, turning on his usual charm. He leans back on his desk, crossing his arms over his chest, fanged smile on display in the florescent lights.

“Perfect.” Seokmin stands from the wall and moves to head away but stops to continue, “oh, I was also gonna hit the gym this afternoon. You look like you could blow off some steam, maybe we could do a few reps together.”

Mingyu nearly choked on air, the smirk wiped from his face.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Anytime.”

“Great. We can talk more about where you’ll be taking me.”

He just nods in response, like an idiot, and watches him go. It takes him a moment to turn back around to his desk and actually be able to read the words on the pages.

We can do this. We’ve faced worse threats. It’s our job to solve these things.

 

On his way back to his desk at the front of the office Seokmin can’t help but overhear Chief Lee having a rather heated conversation. His office was unoccupied except for him so he must be on the phone with someone. If he had to guess with who, he was sure he’d be correct. He halted outside the door, ears pricking to overhear.

“I said no! I’ve told you to stay away and this time I mean it. I have a job to do and I can’t afford a single distraction. I…don’t…don’t say that! You know this is important—!”

Seokmin had heard Jihoon angry before, but nothing like this.

“Soonyoung? Soon— damn it all!”

He slams his desk phone back down and it misses the holder, letting a soft hum of a dead line ring out in the sudden silence.

“What do you need, Lee?”

Seokmin freezes outside his door.

“Just get in here, I can see you through the blinds.”

He sighs and pushes open the door as Jihoon takes a seat at his desk, propping his feet up on the edge of it as he usually does.

“I was just—”

“Eavesdropping.”

“You were pretty loud.”

Jihoon opens his mouth as if to comment but instead sighs. Seokmin knows he should apologize and leave, it’s not his place to meddle, but he knows Soonyoung, probably more than anyone

and he knows how much Soonyoung loves Jihoon.

“I know this isn’t my place, Chief, but I feel as if I’ll be the only one brave enough to tell you. You’re lighter when he’s around. Physically lighter. Your frown isn’t so heavy and your shoulders don’t sag as much and…I know him enough to know that the reason he visits so often is that he worries. It’s his way of checking in on you. If he can still push your buttons, and you haven’t ignored him completely yet, he knows you still care. He…he wants to be loved, and damn it, so do you. We all do. So if you just—”

Jihoon holds up a hand to stop him. His expression is stern but unreadable.

Seokmin just about offers to turn in his two weeks right there.

“We can’t afford to be distracted.”

Is his only response.

Seokmin swallows. He gives a nod and clutches his clipboard to his chest a little tighter, “you’re right. Sorry. I’ll just…”

He gestures to the door and takes the Chief’s silence as dismissal.

Sitting back at his desk the realization of what he had just done washes over him, and he thinks of Jeonghan. It had been so long since he heard from him.

We can’t afford to be distracted.

That we must have been directed at him too.

 

Jihoon groans at the door that had been left open, he drags himself up to shut it himself when he glances to see Mingyu at his own desk. Last he saw of him, his head was in his hands and he was leaned almost completely over his desk. Now, he sat up straighter, took more notes, a set determination written clearly on his face.

His words to Seungcheol all those days ago return to him, the way he felt before hell itself seemed to crawl it’s way back to earth.

Life is too short to…hide away from something greater.

 

Mingyu had forced himself to wait a few minutes after he saw Seokmin head to the elevator before he picked up his bag and headed down to the gym in the basement of the building. It was small and had one of each standard machine, so nothing special, but it got the job done. He and Seungcheol used to start their morning's here, but after everything going on lately, they’d both fallen out of the habit.

He’s relieved to see Seokmin sitting alone in the quiet space, dumbbell in hand as he was already working out a few bicep curls. Mingyu had only ever seen him in his dress shirt in the office, so he was mesmerized seeing his arms on full display in his loose muscle tank he was currently wearing.

Mingyu was a built man, he prided himself on his strength and how he looked, but to him Seokmin blew him out of the water. Easily. It was a pleasant surprise that made a curse fall out of his mouth, “goddamn…”

Seokmin glances over, only noticing him now, “Mingyu.”

The name sounds oddly sad, reserved. It wiped the drool off of Mingyu’s chin.

“Seokie? Something wrong?”

Seokmin sets the weight down with a clang, “I should have said something earlier. I shouldn’t have suggested anything between us—”

“Woah, wait what?”

Seokmin stands, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, “I shouldn't have entertained this at all. I’m just a distraction. I’m sorry.”

“Seokmin? Wait, please!” He grabs his arm before he can slip around him to the exit, “slow down, what happened? I thought—”

“I was! I mean, I am. I want this, but I can’t keep you from your work. I can’t be a distraction.”

Mingyu softens, slowly turning Seokmin to reluctantly face him. He holds both of his shoulders and dips his head down to meet Seokmin’s avoidant eyes.

“Talk to me. What’s all this about being a distraction?"

Seokmin’s eyes flicker to meet his then look away again, “you have work to do. Being with me gets in the way of that.”

“Yeah…so?”

He looks up again and narrows his eyes, “So? So you’re a detective and there’s a killer on the loose and here I am making advances at you. It’s wrong and selfish of me.”

“Seokmin. You have been a distraction to me from the moment you started working here. That hasn’t changed and it certainly wont regardless if we ever become an official thing or not,” he brushes a bit of his hair off his forehead, making Seokmin’s eyes widen at the gentleness of his touch, “if you don’t want this just say so, and I’ll back away for good. I promise. I’ll admire you from afar. I won’t make any more advances. I just…Seokmin I really like you and-—”

His words are taken straight from his tongue as Seokmin suddenly wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him down into a kiss. His lips are warm and needy and Mingyu let’s him set the pace. His hands roam up his back and exposed arms, his touch still gentle as if afraid to break him.

When Seokmin finally pulls away he’s breathing heavy and keeps his face close to Mingyu, their breaths mingling for a moment before Seokmin murmurs, “I like you too.”

Don’t cry, Mingyu, that would be so lame right now.

He shakes off the emotion and instead hoists Seokmin against his chest and spins him around, coaxing a laugh from both of them. As he sets him down again he presses a chaste kiss to his lips, “come on, let’s get out of here.”

He laces their fingers together and heads for the elevators.

“Wha..? Wait, what about our workout?”

“I’m more in the mood for cardio anyway. Besides, I’m already hungry for dinner, and I know this great place nearby, the chef is pretty sexy.”

 

Seokmin arrived home late into the night. The memory of his evening at Mingyu's place still made him smile and practically float on air like the lovesick fool he was. How he hated that he denied himself the pleasure of being in Mingyu’s arms for so long, but the reward was worth waiting for.

His mood instantly deflated when he arrived home to see a bed-headed Soonyoung at the door with his arms crossed.

“Where were you?”

It was the first time they had spoken since they had all split with Jeonghan. The silence had made being roommates almost suffocating, but it also felt like relief to hear his voice again. “Soonie…”

“Don’t Soonie me, you’re never home this late. With all this killer panic going around I thought you…”

“Soonyoung…”

Despite the barrier that had been between them all this time, Seokmin breaks it without a second of hesitation as he sees the tears start to fall down his friend’s cheeks. Soonyoung embraces him with open arms, burying his face in his shoulder. For a moment they stand like this, teary eyed and regretful.

“I’m so sorry, Soonyoung. I never should have broken your trust like that.”

Soonyoung’s voice was muffled against him as he spoke, “I shouldn’t have made you keep such a secret. You or Seungkwan. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept it from Jeonghan too but I just… this is so new for me, feeling this way about someone…”

“It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

Soonyoung glances up from his shoulder, “were you…you were out with that tall guy at the office?”

“We’ve been talking for a while and finally went out on a date.”

It was like nothing had happened between them at all. A sigh of relief as things settled back as they used to be. The apartment feeling much warmer now.

“Shut up! You’ll have to tell me all about it—”

Rap, rap, rap.

Their excitement quickly interrupted by a firm knock at the door.

 

 

 

 

Jihoon’s head was splitting with how much his attention was torn.

No matter what he did all he could think of was Soonyoung.

You just had to yell at him, had to keep pushing him away.

Nice going, Lee.

He knew Seokmin was right, he did feel lighter around him though he would never admit it outright.

But maybe he should.

As he looked to the clock to see how late it was getting he sat up from his chair, stretching his arms over his head. The action untucked his shirt and he leaves it there as he switches his blazer out for his riding jacket. He needlessly slides on his sunglasses  as he heads out of the office, making a beeline for his motorcycle.

As he brings the bike to life he sets off in the night, one destination in mind.

 

He knocks on the door and let’s out a frustrated sigh at how nervous he was. He knew where Soonyoung lived, but had never come up to the door, always keeping himself outside. It was too personal for him to see where he stayed when he wasn’t in his bed beside him.

But he didn’t care about the stupid rules he made up for himself anymore.

The door opens to reveal a slightly tear-stained Soonyoung and familiar face over his shoulder behind him.

Jihoon’s expression goes from confusion, to embarrassment, to understanding.

He crosses his arms, “so this is who keeps letting you in the office, huh?”

Soonyoung tries to hide how pleased he is to see him by putting on a frown and crossing his arms, “what are you doing here?”

He sticks up his chin, and Jihoon’s face softens.

God, he was too cute for his own good.

“Come with me,” he holds out a hand and Soonyoung looks down at it as if expecting it to bite him. He then glances over his shoulder to Seokmin who exchanges a silent conversation with Jihoon as he stares at him. He can see the lightness in his shoulders and softening of his brow. He smiles softly and nods to Soonyoung encouragingly. 

“Where are we going? Should I change?”

Jihoon moves closer and takes his hand, “you look perfect. Come on.”

 

The night was chilly, making Soonyoung press himself closer to Jihoon’s back. His voice a bit echoed under the helmet as he speaks up, “have we been going in circles?”

Jihoon chuckles, calling over his shoulder, “wanted to take you the long way!”

Soonyoung had always loved the chances he got to ride with Jihoon. Despite how scared he was initially of it, he trusted Jihoon, and found pure joy in watching the billboards and neon lights of the city blur by. Even now he stared in awe at the same buildings he had seen dozens of times before, but something about experiencing them on the back of Jihoon’s motorcycle made it all feel so new.

Eventually, he stops the bike in a familiar parking spot outside an even more familiar building.

Jihoon’s apartment.

As Jihoon gives him a hand to help him off the back of the bike he shrugs off the helmet and brushes through his hair.

“I thought you said to stay away.”

Jihoon eyes were still hidden by his sunglasses, but the smile was clear in his words, “and I thought you wouldn’t listen.”

Soonyoung huffs, crossing his arms again as he looks up at the building, “always hot and cold with you. You know, I try. I really do. I’ve asked what we are and you never give me a straight answer. You push me away and then pull me closer. How am I ever supposed to know if you lo—”

Jihoon holds up his hand, the sound of metal clanging together stops Soonyoung’s words. Around his finger was a keyring with three small keys around it.

“What is this?”

“Keys.”

“To?”

“My place, and the office.”

Soonyoung looks at him, “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t like the idea of you waiting around for me to come home. So, now you can come home anytime and wait all pretty for me to come back. Or, you can come to the office and we can ride home together.”

Home.

That use of the word alone spoke volumes that Soonyoung understood immediately.

This was Jihoon’s language for I love you.

Tears brimmed in his eyes again and Jihoon pushed his sunglasses up on his head to look at him better. He moved closer, resting a hand on his cheek to catch the tears before they could fall.

“You look tired,” he says softly.

Let me take care of you, he means.

 

Nothing was more annoying to Jihoon than a phone ringing, especially in a moment like this.

“It’s work,” Soonyoung murmurs, picking up the phone from the side table in his free hand.

Jihoon sits up, reluctantly moving his head up from between Soonyoung’s legs, “hand it over.”

He tears his eyes away from the sinful sight below him and clears his throat, hoping he doesn't sound too strained, “what?" he answers.

There’s silence for a moment as he listens.

“Really? No shit…no, lets…let’s wait. He should focus on the current case. Of course. No, no I wasn’t sleeping. You go get some rest, Chwe.”

The call ends and he sighs. It’s a heavy sigh, putting more weight on his shoulders than relieving it. It’s obvious the call wasn’t anything about finally finding the killer.

“What is it? Wanna talk about it?”

Jihoon shakes his head, returning his attention back to Soonyoung. An almost cheeky smile graces his lips as he looks down on him.

“Now, where were we baby?”

Soonyoung shares an equal grin, chuckling as he takes him by the shoulder and flips him underneath him now. Jihoon’s arms rest beside his head as he falls back on the pillows, his eyes half lidded with clear desire for this new position. Soonyoung looms over the smaller man with a hungry gaze in his eyes. Tears long forgotten by now. He pulls on the leash connected to the collar clasped around Jihoon’s neck, making him arch up to meet him.

“You were apologizing.”

 

 

 

 

Hansol could hardly believe this was happening again, but he wouldn’t be the one to complain.

“Why do you taste like vanilla?”

Seungkwan breaks the kiss to tilt his head and ask. His lips pouted and pink.

It takes Hansol a moment to come back to reality, the words barely registering, “got a new Chapstick. Is it bad?”

Seungkwan chuckles, shaking his head, “I like it.”

His lips crash against his again with a needy moan and Hansol has to brace himself to keep from toppling over. Seungkwan’s legs wrap around his waist easily from where he was seated up on the lab table. Anything breakable had been pushed away a long time ago but Hansol still kept him on the edge just in case.

I think I'm addicted to him. 

They shouldn’t be doing this, but Seungkwan had wanted to see him and he couldn't say no to him twice. He let out a small moan as Seungkwan’s hands roamed over his face, knocking his glasses askew. Hansol goes to take them off but Seungkwan grabs his wrist.

“Keep them on.”

“Kwannie…”

“I like them.”

“Yeah I know, you made me wear them the other night even though you couldn’t even see my face.”

“It’s all in the minds eye, babe. They’re sexy.”

“You’re crazy.”

He murmurs close to his lips as they meet again. His hands roam around to slip into Seungkwan’s back pockets and squeeze.

“Hey Sol— oh, shit.”

A voice at the lab door startles the both of them.

Hansol’s face feels like it’s on fire, “Chan, wha…what are you still doing here, it’s late.”

Chan looks between the two of them, his cheeks dusted pink, “I uh, couldn't sleep so I thought I’d visit you,” he says quickly, “sorry I'll just—”

“Wait.”

Seungkwan, still seated on the table, points to him, “you’re that guy from the bar.”

Chan looks at him a moment and recognition hits him, “Oh, hey.” he gives a sheepish smile.

Hansol, with his hands still firmly around Seungkwan’s ass, looks between the two of them, “you guys have met?”

“Not officially or anything, but he was at the bar before you got there on our first date.”

Hansol’s face darkens, he stands up, finally moving his hands away from Seungkwan. He adjusts his lab coat and glasses, looking to Chan as he crosses his arms, “you’re drinking again?”

Seungkwan recognizes that maybe he had said something he shouldn't and gives an apologetic look to Chan.

Chan smiles, “just every once in a while. Jun is good company. I like chatting with him.”

“You know you’re not supposed to.”

Chan’s smiles fades, “I know.”

Hansol steps closer to him, “hey, look at me.” he studies Chan’s face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his skin, “when was the last time you slept? Or ate something?”

He shrugs casually in response, “I dunno. I’ve been kinda nauseous lately, and a little drained. Might just be my allergies, the pollen is pretty bad lately.”

Pollen.

His mind had been so preoccupied with the current cases that he had almost forgotten his experimenting for Detective Choi. That strange white powder. Even if he had been told they weren't looking into it anymore, it had still burned in the back of his mind that he couldn’t figure out what it was exactly.

He never tested if it was organic material. The body would process it differently.

“Chan you’re a genius.” his mind shifts back to his work, his focus on that small vial that had mocked him all this time. As he starts moving things around for his testing, Seungkwan watches fondly for a moment before slipping off the table to give him space to work. He moves to stand in the space by the door near Chan, who’s clearly still flustered by what he had walked in on.

Seungkwan glances over, seeing the same signs of poor health that Hansol had.

“He’s right you know, no offense but you do look terrible,” the words sound harsh as he says them, and he winces, “I’m uh, Seungkwan by the way.”

“I’m Chan. Hansol and I went to school together.”

Chan warms up slightly now that the weird ice in the room was broken, and he was happy to get the attention off himself.

“No kidding, really? What was he like back then?”

“Well, he wore a lot of dark colors and eyeliner—”

"Shut up, no way!"

If Hansol could overhear their conversation he made no move to stop it. Chan had been close, the ‘dust’ wasn’t pollen, but dried plant matter.

And it was highly toxic.

“That’s it!” he cries after several minutes of him working in silence, “This could be what killed Dr. Jeon!”

Seungkwan stopped mid laugh at Chan’s recounting of the angsty teen Hansol as he heard the familiar name. His heart froze in his chest.

Hansol continues, “If he ingested enough of this it could have severely damaged his arteries and caused the heart attack. I’ve got to call Seungcheol, he’d want to know.”

He pulls out his phone, ready to call him, but Seungkwan speaks up, his voice a bit panicked “it’s pretty late, he’s home usually by now.”

Hansol hesitates, “he’d want to know.”

“What about Chief Lee? He was pretty curious too and he’d definitely be awake. If i didn't see him during the day I’d think he was some kind of vampire or something. Or like a cyborg that doesn't need sleep.”

“Alright, yeah,” Hansol nods pensively, “I’ll check in with Lee and see what he says.”

Seungkwan breaths a sigh of relief but his shoulders are still tense as he listens in on the conversation.

The phone rings once, twice, almost a third before the familiar gruff voice of the Chief answered.

“Hey. I know it’s late but I figured I should call. That white powder? It’s a toxin, it might just be what Seungcheol was looking for. I thought about telling him…alright. Sorry, did I wake you? Alright, night sir.”

He hangs up the phone and looks up between the other two men. There’s a silence in the room as they all look between each other.

Hansol is the one to break the silence, looking to Seungkwan curiously, “how do you know when Detective Choi gets home?”

Seungkwan pauses, his mind spinning as his hand goes to his phone in his pocket.

“Oh, just an assumption.”

 

 

 

Chapter 11: Eleven

Everything was warm in his embrace.

Like a fire, all-consuming, he was everywhere.

Burning him from the inside out.

Jeonghan was reborn anew every time.

A phoenix from the ashes.

Seungcheol took in a shaky breath, the fog in his mind slowly cleared as he propped himself up on his elbows over the breathless Jeonghan beneath him. He might have loved this moment the most. Where Jeonghan’s delicate eyes look up at him like he was some kind of hero, some kind of savior, and it fueled him like nothing else ever could.

Seeing that Jeonghan was just as satisfied, he let himself fall back down on top of him, rolling to the side of the bed to pull him into his embrace.

It was routine at this point.

No matter how late the night, they would spend most of it tangled together. Every breath he took was Jeonghan’s, every beat of his heart was aligned with Jeonghan’s, every word he could utter was simply…

“Jeonghan…”

Each sound of his name felt like he was sinking deeper into something he could never escape from. Seungcheol was his and his alone. No longer did the nightmares plague his dreams and keep him awake, there was nothing but silence. Nothing but warmth in the strong arms that protected him from his sins.

As he pulled him close and ran his fingers through Jeonghan’s hair, he muttered his name again. Jeonghan looked up into those dark but loving eyes.

“…Jeonghan…”

He murmurs again, pressing a kiss to his hairline, then several down the side of his face, his cheekbone, the dimple at the corner of his mouth. Then finally his lips.

He would never tire of kissing Seungcheol.

Warm lips and wandering hands that left no territory unexplored, yet felt entirely new every time.

He sighed as the lips left his to speak, brushing his skin with each whispered syllable.

“Move in with me.”

It takes him a moment to register that the words were no longer his name.

“What?”

“Move in with me.”

Its not a question. He’s not asking. It’s a command. A gentle command.

“Seungcheol…”

“Please,” the lips brush over his again before backing away to get a better look at him, “you already spend the nights with me. I want you where I know you’re safe. I don’t care if this is rushed or that we haven’t really defined what this is but…” his fingers play with the hair at the base of Jeonghan's neck and tighten softly with his next word, “please.”

This was it.

Against all odds, he was extended an olive branch. A chance to erase the old Jeonghan and become someone new.

He had thought about this. Making something real with the detective. He’s done it before, move from one heartache to a temporary fix, but with Seungcheol it didn’t feel temporary. He could picture himself buying groceries with him, going out on dates, maybe even a vacation to Japan like he’d always wanted. People would talk, certainly, if they knew they were together so soon after the death of his husband. Like all news, however, it would eventually become stale and forgotten. In the past, he’d want his partner tied down to him legally as quick as possible, to know they wanted him just as sincerely and to benefit from their net worth, but even if he never get to marry Seungcheol, he thinks he would be just as happy as he is now.

Happy.

It was long past time for second chances, and yet here he was.

Happy.

How could he possibly say no to that?

 

He’d spent the last several days at Seungcheol’s place, dressing in nothing but his borrowed work shirts from the man's closet and his boxers as he wandering the small but cozy space to pass the time until he came back home. Everything felt like Seungcheol, smelled like Seungcheol. He couldn’t remember the last time he was at his own apartment, the mental image of the place already fading from his mind.

Now, he would return there for the last time, pack up his things and start over.

Like he’s done before.

Each time he told himself this would be different.

Perhaps it actually would be this time.

He unlocks the door of his old place, sighing as he sets down his bag and routinely goes to hang up his jacket when something in his peripheral felt off. He turns to face the room more and freezes.

The apartment was in pristine condition, just as he had left it. However, something was missing.

His gaze immediately locks onto the space where his precious flowers used to grow, but now there was nothing but small piles of dirt on the countertop.

No.

Had he thrown them out? Finally gotten rid of them?

No.

He would remember doing that. He wouldn’t have left the dirt on the counter.

His throat felt tight as he slowly walked further into the room. Nothing else had been touched, at least it seemed that way.

For a moment, he felt relief. They were gone. He could forget them. Leave it in the past. Whatever happened to them now wasn’t his concern.

But whoever took them came just for them. That much was obvious.

They knew what they are. Meaning they could know what he was.

No.

I have to tell Seungcheol.

No!

He couldn’t tell Seungcheol. He would have to explain. Why would someone come in and steal just his flowers? Seungcheol, precious Seungcheol, would see right through any excuse he would make.

No.

No. No. No. NO.

Like Icarus, in the morning sun’s rays that streamed through the windows, Jeonghan fell.

He sank to his knees.

How foolish was he to think he had any chance of redemption? That he could be loved and cherished?

He was alone in this.

He could call Seungkwan, he’d be over in seconds even with all the time that's passed since they'd last spoken. Maybe even Soonyoung and Seokmin if he convinced them. He’d beg for their forgiveness and if they accepted they could help him. Seokmin could flash a smile and a DT Police card and get access to the security cameras no problem. Seungkwan could get an identification on the perpetrator and track them down by the end of the day. Soonyoung had connections, but he also was a master in forgery. Could he have made a key and snuck in? Would he have done something like this? No, not Soonyoung. He couldn’t imagine him doing something like this.

If they really were the ones that took it, does that mean they were going to turn him in? They'd betray him again just like everyone always does.

It could have been days or even hours since they were stolen.

He could run, take his things and go and leave everything behind before they got worse.

That would be the easy thing to do.

It’s what he would have done without question the past.

But now he thought of Seungcheol.

And something in his heart tugged him to stay.

He couldn’t run from this anymore.

If it wasn’t his friends then who?

Whoever this was had to know what they were and how they were used before. In the wrong hands it could be a serious weapon. Deaths of dozens of unsuspecting victims. All on his hands. That’s not what he wanted, he had just wanted to get away. It was easier, so much easier to let the bridge burn then face it head on. To run and run and run and change until there was nothing left of him.

Through teary eyes he glances up to the hallway towards the bedrooms.

On shaky legs he stands and starts moving. Each step down the hall feels heavy, like walking through high water. The door was still closed, just the same as it had been the day he died.

He hesitates at the door, his hand resting on the handle a moment as he lay his head against the wood. If he listened he could swear he could still hear him breathing, deep in his sleep. With a quick turn of his wrist he opens the door.

The room was small, made more to be a study or guest room than a master bedroom like where Jeonghan slept. The walls were painted a soft blue, matching the blue and gray details around the entire apartment. Wonwoo had picked the colors himself a long time ago when he first moved in before he had even met Jeonghan. He said they were calming, and home is where he wanted to feel rested and safe.

He takes a few steps in, heart clenching as the faint but familiar scent of his soap lingered in the air. He had thrown out Wonwoo’s shampoo and other essentials quickly after his death to escape the memory of him, but the scent of tee tree oil from his shampoo still remained.

It had been almost a month since his death.

He brushed his hands over the bed. The sheets wrinkled from when Wonwoo had woken up that day. Despite being a man of routine he never cared to make his bed. He was just going to lie in it again the next night and mess it all up again, might as well save the time. Jeonghan moved over to stand in front of the dresser, avoiding the eyes of his reflection in the mirror hanging just above it. He opens the top drawer and stares down at the cream and brown colored sweaters. Wonwoo was always cold, he could wear sweaters in the worst of summers and only feel a bit warm. As much as he would tease him for it, he adored how cute the man looked in his turtlenecks and cable knits. Wonwoo also had the cutest laugh. When he could get him to crack a smile and chuckle it felt like a tiny victory. He could still feel the faint memory of how he’d wrap his arms around him from behind when he got out of the shower and just bury his face into Jeonghan's hair after a long day. He would hum softly at random times and Jeonghan wondered if he had even realized he was doing it half the time. It wasn’t any recognizable tune, it was just Wonwoo.

Minghao would sing too. Normally only when he was drunk and in a good mood, but his voice was soft and delicate. He touch was just as feather-light whenever he embraced Jeonghan. He would call him sweet names, and would come home with extravagant bouquets of flowers and imported chocolates, each time something new in hopes to find everything that Jeonghan liked. Despite his rather large following online he never cared for it. He didn't care for the fame of his art, he wanted the expression. The freedom. He was grateful for his position in wealth so that he could have this lifestyle. One of the greatest things was how deeply he cared for others, he had never seen someone so selfless. He was a perfectionist by heart but it was because he cared. If he was going to put himself out there, he was going to be the best he could be.

Joshua enjoyed his fame but he also hated it. He was a shyer man by default. He liked to keep his private life private, including Jeonghan. Which, at the time, was alright with him. He had no reason to doubt Joshua’s love for him. The more he thought about it the more he realized how quick he was to abandon that trust. He hadn’t even asked him about that girl. They’d both ignored the rumors and gossip like it didn’t exist while it was boiling a permanent hole in Jeonghan’s chest that he was still trying to fill.

They could have moved to a small town. Bought a starter home instead of that shitty downtown apartment and maybe plant a flower and vegetable garden. They’d get a dog or two or three.

Maybe even adopt kids.

All these lives he could have had if he hadn’t convinced himself he wasn’t deserving of them.

Why did it hurt when it felt like they betrayed me?

Because I loved them.

He sits on the edge of the bed, clutching a white sweater to his chest. His fingers grip the fabric as his tears soak into it.

I loved him.

I loved him.

And I loved him.

Now he loves Seungcheol.

So he knew what he had to do.

 

 

The sun was just starting to set behind the silver and brown skyline of buildings as Jeonghan approached the department district.

He’d spent the afternoon coming up with his script, crafting the perfect monologue to explain everything, but in the end, he decided to go in cold. He’d just sit down with him and admit to everything. What punishment awaited after that was long overdue, and he was tired, so tired of running.

He needed Seungcheol to be mad at him. Needed him to yell at him, curse him, and maybe even hit him. It would let Seungcheol be appropriately angry and would also be a good starting place for Jeonghan’s punishment. It would make Seungcheol want to get far away from him, and that was for the best. It would make it easier for him to make the final judgment he deserved.

He knew he had to do this.

He didn’t feel ready, but the show must go on.

As he approached the street where the police department resided, he passes by a familiar bar. The neon purple sign was dimmed, signifying its closure. The fading sunlight sparkled off the windows, making him have to squint and shield his eyes as he curiously glances in.

He expected it to be empty, perhaps that tall bartender he vaguely remembered would be sweeping floors or whatever to prep the place for later, but he wasn’t there.

But to his surprise, the place wasn't empty.

A young man in a navy blue crewneck and black sweats sat at the middle seat of the bar. His hair was messy, like he might have just rolled out of bed, and he slouched over the counter, stirring a straw around his rose-colored drink.

The man noticed Jeonghan staring through the window and his blank expression turned into a smile, almost of recognition. He waves his hand, a sign to come in. It was a friendly gesture, and Jeonghan didn't really know the man, but now that he was caught staring it felt odd to just walk away.

Maybe he could use a drink before this anyway.

The door was unlocked and the bell jingled softly as he entered.

“Hey, welcome. Jun went out in the alley for a smoke, but he should be back in soon.”

The friendly smile faded a bit at Jeonghan just looked at him blankly. He couldn’t place why this man looked familiar. He realized he was just rudely standing there and so he forced a smile and sat at the bar, leaving a seat between them.

Jeonghan thinks of what to say. Should he know this person? Maybe it was a friend of a friend. Or maybe they recognized him from an article or something from a fundraiser or maybe he was just friendly, but now after his silence the man avoided his eyes. A twinge of guilt flickered in his chest.

He turned his attention to the mostly empty glass the young man was nursing. A sparkling residue was left in the faint pink liquid, a few small white ice cubes floated at the surface and danced as he moved them around. He assumed it was alcoholic, and almost asked, but he didn’t need to. Either the man noticed his glance to the drink or simply wanted to fill the silence, so he spoke again, “Jun invited me to try out a new specialty drink before he opened. It's pretty good, though there’s this weird aftertaste. It's a bit too sweet and kinda burns my throat but maybe it’s just a stronger concentration then I'm used to.”

“Do you know what’s in it?”

The man shakes his head, “no, actually. I probably should have asked.”

Now that he was closer, he could see the slight build up of sweat on the man’s forehead. His breathing was a bit heavier and irregular, like he couldn't get a full breath, but the smile remained on his lips. His lips that seemed a bit purple in the dim lighting.

“Are you…alright?”

Jeonghan finds himself asking, leaning closer instinctively. The man shakes his head dismissively, “yeah. I’m good. Just tired.”

Jeonghan was tired. He knew what tired was and what it looked like.

This wasn’t tired, this was something much worse.

“Are you sure—”

“Ah—!”

The man lurches forwards, hand on his chest, his fingers dig into his sweatshirt and after briefly wincing in pain his smile returns with a feeble attempt at a laugh, “it’s okay, I’m—”

Another wave of pain seems to grip him and he stands shakily. He hand goes to the counter to steady himself but he misses, instead blindly swiping the glass off the counter.

As it crashes to the floor what's left of the contents spill out in a small spray of pink against the tile.

Jeonghan sees him stumble, the sound of shattering glass waking him from his shock, and without much thought suddenly he was by his side. As the young man started to fall, Jeonghan didn’t have the strength to keep standing as all his weight was suddenly leaned onto him. They both crumple down to the floor, Jeonghan on his knees and the man groaning and clinging to his coat. His head lay in his lap, looking up at Jeonghan. Eyes sparking and fearful in the panic.

Jeonghan had been here before.

In his dreams.

He was flooded with panic as the man clung to him, but the longer he looked the more what he saw started to change. He saw a different man with lighter brown hair and crescent eyes that used to smile now wide with fear. Then another face with longer, blond hair and sharpened features, eyes shut in pain. Then another with deep brown eyes hidden behind clear frames, his eyebrows furrowed and shaking.

These faces continued to bleed together until suddenly he was looking down into they dying eyes of Seungcheol. Thick eyelashes fluttering and trembling lips forming the words as he manages to speak.

“Please.”

He blinks, now seeing the young man with messy hair, eyes pleading.

“Please…I don’t want to die.”

His eyes were wide and desperate, as if realizing this for the first time.

A wave of something fierce and protective takes over his entire being as Jeonghan comes to back to life.

His voice is hoarse, “it's okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I won't let you die. Okay? Just breathe.”

Through the blur of panic his phone is soon in his hands and he dials the emergency number. He keeps one hand grasping the young man’s for him to hold onto while the other keeps his phone to his ear.

The operator barely speaks before Jeonghan starts commanding, “I need an ambulance. NOW. We're at… Gemini’s, on the corner of Starhaven and Gold. Please! You have to hurry. There’s a man here and he’s—”

He looks back down at the scene before him. The young man, still with so much life to live, lying in pain on the floor next to broken glass and ice.

No.

It wasn't ice as he had originally thought. Now that he was closer he could see what it really was.

Pale white flower petals.

He holds back a choked sob as his voice raises in panic, “—he’s dying! He’s having a heart attack and he’s dying!”

 

 

Minutes passed before the sounds of sirens filled the heavy silence.

The paramedics found Jeonghan cradling a man barely conscious in his lap. He was reluctant at first to let him leave his arms but the medics needed to treat him.

Fast.

As they loaded him onto the stretcher and out into the back of the ambulance Jeonghan followed until he was stopped.

He was asked if he knew the man.

He could only shake his head.

They wouldn't let him onto the ambulance with him.

Everything was blurred.

He screamed and he cried and he begged.

“Please I need to be with him. I need to! Please!”

He continued to shake even as familiar arms wrapped around him and a gentle voice murmured in his ear, “it’s alright. I’m here, Jeonghan. He’s gonna be okay, you helped him.”

Seungcheol’s words meant nothing to him.

The flowers, I killed him.

I killed them all.

He was still crying when he was gently put into the passenger seat of Seungcheol’s car. Still crying as they followed the ambulance to the nearest hospital. His eyes didn’t dry until he realized he was now seated in a waiting room surrounded by familiar and unfamiliar faces. He feels like he should know all of these people, but his mind can’t pull some of them into focus, like looking through a fogged window.

Seungkwan was there, rubbing the back of a man in a lab coat who’s shoulders shook heavily as he sobbed into his hands. He glances over to Jeonghan across from him, and for a moment there’s nothing, until he sees Seungkwan’s lips turn up into sad smile.

This is a bad time, but I missed you.

Seokmin was there too, holding the hand of a vaguely familiar looking taller man who’s tie had been loosened until it barely hung around his neck and he patted Seokmin’s arm affectionately, murmuring something softly to him. Seokmin avoided Jeonghan's eyes for a moment, but eventually when he caught them he pursed in his lips, holding back tears and so many words long unspoken.

I’m sorry.

Soonyoung sat beside Seokmin. fidgeting with his hands in his lap as his eyes watched a shorter man in a leather jacket pace the floor as he bit his thumbnail and mumbled to himself. He couldn't remember if he had ever seen Soonyoung cry before now. 

Jeonghan glances over to the seat beside him and meets Seungcheol’s eyes.

“You saved him…” he repeats again, just loud enough for Jeonghan to hear. He wasn’t sure how many times he had said this, and if it was even true. He may have just been saying it to try and convince himself. Jeonghan was too weak to argue.

“How did you know he was having a heart attack?”

As Seungcheol softly asks, he sees flashes of memories and weeks of studies. The symptoms and signs, the steady decline.

“I—”

Before he could respond, the doors to the medical hall open and what looks to be a doctor steps out and glances over them all.

“Lee Chan family?”

“Yes.” Most voices answer automatically, the tall man with the loose tie and Seungcheol both had stood up as he entered. The doctor takes in the group and sucks in a breath. His posture is rigid and straight and he slips his clipboard under his arm.

“Chan is stable for now. His heart and surrounding arteries suffered pretty severe damage. We believe his condition worsened into several areas of arteriosclerosis which could be the cause for the sudden myocardial infarction. We're prepping him for immediate surgery.”

There’s a collective exhale in the room, like the walls themselves open and the room feels less constructive, but a buzz of concern still lingers at the word surgery.

Jeonghan doesn’t react.

From what he had overheard from the other men in the room talking was that Chan had been having trouble with his heart for years, and must not have been taking care of it.

But Jeonghan knows this is because of him. The alcohol must have slipped those toxic flowers right through his blood stream. He had already drank most of it by the time Jeonghan had been here. If he had been any later, or had just walked away…

he still didn’t feel like any kind of hero.

The doctor explains that the surgery could last several hours, and afterwards Chan would stay in recovery until they were sure he was stable. We were welcome to stay, but they would take our names and numbers and contact us with any updates if we wanted to go home instead.

It was late.

None of them made a move to leave within the first hour. Then another passed.

Eventually, it was clear the waiting around was getting into everyone’s heads and making them impatient. Some of them would pace, take walks down the halls, distract each other with talks of the weather and sports. Meaningless ways to pass the time. Each pair seemed to keep to themselves, an air of a different kind of tension loomed over the corner of the room. It was obvious what it was, but no one was acknowledging it, which was for the best. 

Shame gripped Jeonghan fiercely. He felt sick and lightheaded so he could do nothing but stare at the floor. He couldn’t look at his friends, couldn’t look at the other’s who apparently cared deeply about Chan. He couldn’t look at Seungcheol.

Of course Seungcheol noticed this. He rubbed his back softly to get his attention, his voice low and gentle, “we can head home if you’d want. I'd rather stay, but I’ll make sure they update us.”

He lifts his head up to him, “no, no I want to stay. I need to see him when he wakes up.”

There’s a fondness in Seungcheol’s eyes that makes Jeonghan’s stomach lurch.

“Alright. I'll go get us some coffee.”

A few moments after Seungcheol had left Jeonghan stands. He sees Seungkwan give him a curious look and he gestures down the hall where the bathrooms are. Thankfully, he nods in understanding and returns to leaning his head on a sleeping Hansol.

Jeonghan walks down the hall, passing quickly by the bathrooms and heading for the stairs. As he descends each flight, his mind keeps playing the same moments over and over. The dirt trails in his apartment, the familiar heart shaped petals of his creation floating in that drink, the smile on Chan’s face as he welcomed him in.

He knew he wouldn’t see Chan when he woke up. If he woke up. He knew he couldn't look at his friends ever again, knew he couldn’t face Seungcheol. Not until he made this right.

Chan was a gentle soul. A kind soul. He didn’t deserve to die.

None of them did.

As he left the hospital and rushed into the open air his legs started to carry him where he needed to go.

Straight towards his final judgement.

His heels echoing against the pavement as he ran.

 

 

Chapter 12: Tweleve

When Seungcheol returns with two paper cups in hand the room has shifted.

Jihoon and Hansol were talking in hushed voices but stop as soon as he came into view. Seokmin was still seated but now was next to Soonyoung and the one with auburn hair he now knew as Seungkwan. They also whispered between each other and seemed to be watching something on Seungkwan’s phone.

There was no sign of Jeonghan.

Mingyu appears at his side, shoulders heavy as he wiped a bit of water from his hands onto his untucked shirt.

“Man, those hand dryers are crazy in there.”

Seungcheol looks at him, “Gyu did you see Jeonghan?”

Mingyu glances over his shoulder towards the direction he just came from, “no, it was just me. Didn't see him before I went in either.”

“Choi.”

Jihoon stepped over to him with Hansol in tow. His expression is as neutral as ever, but there was the hint of a deep frown at the edge of his lips that spoke of bad news.

“The doctor came back and spoke with me privately. They found a high level of toxin in Chan’s bloodstream, a similar pH to bleach. The same kind of toxin we found on those glasses from the doctor who died from a similar heart attack.”

Seungcheol looks between Hansol and Jihoon, “what do you mean?”

Hansol sighs, “I ran some more tests the other day on that dust Chan had found and discovered it’s actually organic material, like some kind of plant, but highly toxic to the body. Enough of it could definitely cause issues with the heart.”

“Did you know about this?” He looks to Mingyu who shakes his head, then looks back to Hansol “and you’re just now telling me?”

“Seungcheol…”

Toxic organic material.

“…I breed plants. Flowers especially.”

Those small white flowers he’d noticed the one time he had been in Jeonghan’s apartment. He had always meant to ask about them.

In the blood stream.

Relatively untraceable.

Bloodless bodies popping up all over town.

All the color drained from his face and Mingyu held his arm as he swayed on his feet, “Seungcheol?”

“Where is he…”

“Seungcheol, hang on—”

“Where is he!?”

“He’s at Gemini’s!”

Seungkwan stands to join them, holding his phone in his hand. Hansol gives him a curious look, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow, “how do you know that?”

“I put a tracker app on his phone.”

The men look at him with varying levels of confusion and concern.

“Hannie is my friend. We grew up in the same neighborhood and moved out together when we got old enough to and it wasn’t until he married his first husband that we…”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows rose slightly, “first husband?”

Nerves take over the momentary bravery that Seungkwan had, making him stammer, “I…we…I mean—”

“I don’t take it you’re referring to Dr. Jeon? His late husband?”

Seungkwan shakes his head, “look, I’m only telling you this because of all these killings I've heard on the news. We know what this looks like but it’s not Hannie. It can’t be.”

“We?”

They look over his shoulder to see Seokmin and Soonyoung still seated, but they move to stand up and join Seungkwan, “the three of us were all pretty close to Jeonghan. There are things he’s done that we can’t tell you, and we want to believe it isn’t him, but we cant be sure, Seungkwan.”

Seokmin puts a hand on his arm and Seungkwan pulls away from them all, “No! I know it isn’t! It can’t be! He only ever goes to Detective Choi’s house or his own apartment and he hasn’t been back there for days.”

“You said he was there this morning,” Soonyoung adds softly, “he could have gotten the flowers and gave them to Chan and—”

"He has no reason to kill him! He only kills for the-"

“Alight, stop.” Seungcheol looks between the three of them, then to his colleagues.

“Tell me everything. Now.”

 

 

The bell rings out in the silence, but Jeonghan could barely hear it past the blood pounding in his ears. He was still breathing heavy from his run here. If he was smart, that bartender Jun wouldn’t be here, but he was hoping he was regardless.

And there he stood, back facing towards him as he reached up to pull an empty bottle from the top shelves behind the bar. He doesn’t turn to address him, his voice calm and collected, like it was any other night and someone hadn't almost died on his floor hours before this.

“Sorry friend, unfortunately we’re closed tonight. Come back when the next moon rises.”

“You were trying to kill him.”

He turns over his shoulder, the smile doesn’t leave his face as he sees Jeonghan there, instead it shifts to an almost satisfied smirk, “you seem troubled by that.”

“What is this, huh? Some kind of game?”

“Game?” Jun chuckles, “I don’t play games. I right wrongs.”

“Don’t. Don’t play around like this. I know what you’ve done.”

“Do you?” Jun chuckles, he rounds the bar, crossing his arms as he leans against it.

“You broke in to my apartment. You stole those flowers.”

“Correct.”

“Why? I don't know how you even knew about them, let alone knew about me.”

“I know a lot of things.”

“Stop being cryptic, it’s over for you. For both of us. Just tell me why you did it.”

“Why?” Jun pauses, then chuckles, “Why?”

He strides over, crunching over the glass that still scattered across the floor. Jeonghan instinctively backs up against the table behind him.

“Why what? Why I’d speed up the inevitable death of Officer Lee? Why I stole those poisonous flowers? Or maybe you're wondering why I've killed again and again and again? The answer is simple. It’s all because of you.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

Jun closes the space between them and grips the edge of the table behind Jeonghan, trapping him in. He glances up at a painting on the wall over their heads, an abstract collection of color that resembled a galaxy, “I’ll enlighten you then. Why did I poison the kid? He knew too much. At least, he told me too much. He told me everything. He needed someone to confide in and I was happy to entertain him until he no longer served me. He was dying anyways and I needed a test subject for my future projects.”

“Projects?”

“Yes. I suppose that ties in to the answer of why I stole your flowers. My plan at first was to pin you as this vampire killer the whole town has been excited over, but I take pride in my work and wouldn't want to have to end it so soon. So then, why waste what’s useful? It's untraceable for police, deaths easily ruled a heart attack…that would certainly make continuing my purpose here long after you’re gone so much easier.”

“Why…why me?”

He leans in, making Jeonghan flinch away. He lifts a hand to brush it through his hair, twisting it around a finger, “That’s something an innocent man would ask, and you and I both know you are far from innocent. You see, you’re a wrong that needs correcting. An imbalance to a perfect world. It was Minghao’s philosophy after all, balance.”

Jeonghan paused as he heard the name. Minghao.

“Minghao? What do you know about Minghao?

Jun’s eyes darken and he slams his hands on the table, “Xu Minghao was everything to me! He was my world. My inspiration. My idol. He and I were the same, two pieces of the same cloth, two sides of the same coin. We understood each other. We both wanted to see the world a perfect place. I knew we were destined to be together, it was only a matter of time. It felt like my very soul was stripped from me when he died, but what hurt more was finding out he had been married to someone who could never love him like I could. This 'Hanbin Yoon' nobody who vanished once the eyes of the public weren't on him. I knew, I knew it couldn't have been an accident. My Minghao was killed.”

He stands back a bit from Jeonghan and looks over him, “it was then I knew that the police, our so called justice department, wouldn't do anything about it. They just let him go. So I moved here, hoping to find you and restore Minghao’s balance, but it was harder to find one man in this city than I had originally thought. Instead, I found this place in need of saving,” he opens his arms up to the room around him, “A place for me to build a network right in the heart of downtown. So I made roots here. Unable to satisfy the unbalance caused by you, I made sure to take care of other imbalances until I could get to you. You’d be amazed to hear what secrets spill once a drop of alcohol hits the lips. It was that Officer Lee who first gave me the information I was dreaming of. First, it was the mysterious powder connected to a wealthy husband dying. Then, the mention of a certain man named Yoon. Now that’s odd, I thought, this sounds familiar. Then by the grace of god, you walked right in, right to me.”

He reaches closer and grabs a fist full of Jeonghan’s hair before he could move away, he cries out in pain but Jun continues, “you may have changed your hair and name but I could never forget. The very man I came here to find three years ago. I thought about taking you out that night once you went back home, like I’ve done to the others, but that detective never left. To make things worse he left with you. It was then I knew there was more corruption going on than I thought. I needed to bring this to light. So I took a risk. I sprinkled a few of my projects around the city, lying in wait for them to be found. Sure enough it caught the attention I wanted. Now everyone is pointing fingers to our supposed saviors who let destruction happen right under their noses. It was entertaining to see the media paint this as some kind of supernatural phenomenon as if the real reasoning wasn’t scarier. I suppose…are you even listening to me?”

Jeonghan cried out as he pulled on his hair again, yanking him from the table.

“It doesn't matter. Your judgment day is long overdue, and my secrets will die with you.”

Throwing him to the ground, Jeonghan slips into the liquid and broken glass that still stuck to the floor. He turns to look up just in time to see the underside of a shoe aimed to his face.

There was painfully blinding light before…

nothing.

 

 

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel.

In the whirlwind of realizations between his colleagues and their romantic partners, he left the hospital, heading straight for the answers he needed to hear for himself.

He pulls up to the bar, parking his police vehicle just outside the entrance on the street. It was late into the night and usually the place would be like a lighthouse on the corner. Instead it was dark, empty, and hollow, an uninviting presence.

There’s a soft cling as he entered the place. The only light source was from the lamps outside and a dim strip of light coming from under the doors to the back storage room. As he walks in deeper he keeps his hand over his gun in it’s holster, eyes darting through the room to pick up on anything he could see. The crunch of something solid under his shoes makes him pause. Looking down there was a layer of broken glass stuck to the floor in some kind of sticky liquid. He kneels down, picking up a white petal from the mess. His mind flashes to that small collection of flowers overlooking the city from a penthouse view.

It was a blessing and a curse how he could never forget something once he’d seen it.

There was a darker, unmistakable liquid by the petals and glass.

Blood.

He stands and moves closer to the storage room doors, gun drawn and at his side now. One of the swinging doors was held open slightly from inside. He pulls it back to see several boxes had toppled over and acted as a short barricade to the room. He steps over them and moves inside the kitchen space. The pizza oven still sat unused and forgotten in the corner. He could still remember Sunny’s Pizza. It was the old hangout for officers before they had to close down. Then Jun moved in and made the place a bar and while the food was missed, his drinks and warm atmosphere made up for it.

Now the place felt cold, haunted even. His whole body was on edge as he gripped the gun tighter in his hand.

Where was Jeonghan?

As if to answer his mental question, a voice carries over from an open door in the corner. Stepping closer to it, he could see it opened up to a staircase leading down. A single light bulb was flickering at the end of it. He stopped and listened.

“…just in time, I was running out of supplies.”

Junhui.

“You're a psycho!”

Jeonghan.

Holding his breath, Seungcheol descends the stairs. He knew this would be foolish but he was well past acting rationally at this point.

“Death is not enough of a punishment for you, after all this waiting I deserve to enjoy this.”

There’s a muffled scream that makes Seungcheol’s heart race quicker, his chest tightened and he moved faster to reach the bottom of the stairs. He glances around the corner to see it was a small storage room filled with alcohol. Racks of wine and other bottles crowded the many shelves that stood around the place, as well as a couple wooden barrels in the corner.

The walls were bare except for one. The corner of the back wall was covered in different sized canvases that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Dozens upon dozens of portraits, all seeming to be the same person. A man with hair that framed his face and shoulders, lips round and eyes dark and intimidating, yet in the same way almost ethereal. The lines were made up of several streaks of paint, like someone had used their fingers to shape it. He would have been impressed if this was any other circumstance, and if the paint didn’t look so much like dried blood.

Glancing in more, he then saw the tall figure of Jun, holding a hand over Jeonghan’s mouth to muffle his cries. An odd device was hooked up to the chair Jeonghan was seated in and he slowly pressed what looked like a long needle into the crevice of Jeonghan’s elbow.

He acted on instinct.

“Wen Junhui.”

He steps out and makes himself known in the room. His gun aimed true.

Jun doesn’t turn to face him but he stops.

“Detective. What a surprise.”

Jeonghan’s eyes were wide behind Jun’s hand. As he looks to Seungcheol there’s no longer fear, but something like disappointment. Jun holds up a finger to his lips, signaling Jeonghan to keep quiet. He pulls away his hand and turns to face Seungcheol.

“Junhui, you better explain what’s going on.”

The smile on his face was sickly sweet. Jun looked less of a man and more a monster.

“Perfect timing detective, you can act as prosecution.”

“Junhui what is this?”

“A trial. For the murder of beloved Xu Minghao, along with two other men and who knows, potentially you next if I hadn’t done your job for you.”

Seungcheol breathes for a moment. Calculating.

“What about the murders of those five other victims?”

“Oh, there’s plenty more than five, but this trial is specifically to determine the correct punishment for the death of one man, for now.”

He gestures to the paintings on the wall. Seungcheol looks to Jeonghan who looks down at the floor. The same far away look he had in the hospital.

“So in this courtroom, I assume you’re the judge?”

Jun smiles, happy the detective was seeing this the way he was, “judge, jury, and executioner.”

“As prosecution, may I question the defendant?”

Jun’s amusement lights up his face. Seungcheol knew that Jun was only allowing this because Seungcheol wouldn’t make it out of here alive in his mind, so he used it to his advantage. He gestures over to Jeonghan, “You may, detective.”

Seungcheol moves closer to Jeonghan, setting his gun back down to his side.

“Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan lifts his head. His gaze miles away at first but then it narrows to see Seungcheol standing over him. His name lacked the warmth he always liked to hear from him.

“State your name for the court.”

Your real name.

Jeonghan didn’t have a bible, so he shifted his arm to lay his fingers over his heart.

“Yoon Jeonghan.”

His eyes locked in on Seungcheol.

In this moment it was just the two of them.

There was no script this time, no pretending, no act. He trusted Seungcheol to see the truth, and he wanted him to. Seungcheol wasn’t a lawyer by any means, so he only asked the questions he wanted answers to.

“How many times have you been married?”

“Three times.”

“How many of your husbands have you killed?”

“Three.”

“Have you killed anyone else?”

“No.”

“Were you planning to kill me?”

There it was. The question that had been burning in his mind since Seungkwan and the others had revealed Jeonghan’s history.

“No.”

His answer was without hesitation, eyes focused, unblinking. The word spoken strongly despite the bit of emotion that choked him after saying it.

Seungcheol goes to ask another question when Jeonghan continues.

“I’d sooner take my own life.”

And he knew it was true. He swallows and bites his lip before continuing his questions.

“You lied to me.”

“I did.”

“You're a murderer.”

“I am.”

“There you have it, detective.” Jun interjects, leaning against a case of wine bottles, cigarette on the corner of his mouth as his hands fiddle with his lighter, “he admits to his guilt. I’d say this is an easy verdict to make. I sentence him to death for his crimes. What say you, detective?”

Seungcheol tears his teary eyes away from Jeonghan to look back at Jun.

“If his sentence for murder is death, then what is your punishment?”

Jun’s expression darkens. This clearly wasn’t what he wanted to hear, “My punishment?”

“For the murder of those other innocent lives.”

“Innocent!” Jun laughs, a broken sound that echoes in the damp room, making Seungcheol raise his gun again, “nothing was innocent about those monsters. I had to restore balance. One man cheating on his wife, another woman stealing from her job. All things that justice seekers like you fail to correct! What of your sins, detective? Are we not the same? Sentencing criminals to their deserved fates? You and every other cop aren’t punished for it, so why should I be?”

“You’re weighing the sins of one man against another.”

“Sin weighs the same in god's eyes.”

“But you’re not god, and neither am I.”

“True.” Jun lights the tip of his cigarette, waving the lighter’s flame in the air dramatically, “I never claimed to be god, I only act for him. Isn’t that what Mr. Yoon here has done? Took it upon himself to play with lives by his rules?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, “it’s not your place to determine that. Everyone deserves a fair trial.”

“Nothing in this life is fair! That was what this man taught me. There are those who will take what they want and discard the rest, and sometimes we have to resort to doing the same to make things right. He’s heartless, cold, only cares for himself!”

“Does it hurt?”

Jun pauses at the detectives question, looking over him curiously as if he’d asked him something ridiculous.

“Does it hurt when you kill them? Does it haunt you when you sleep? Do you regret it every waking moment that it keeps you from being at peace? Do you think the world would be better off without you because of it?”

“No, the world is better because of me.”

"Then you are not the same.”

Jun looks between them before laughing again, “you’ve poisoned his mind, Jeonghan! He sees you as a person, how precious is that. Listen, detective, he’s a devil that killed an angel and gets to walk freely for it! He deserves to die! He deserves—”

Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan.

Then he fires.

A bit too far from the left of his chest, exactly where he wanted it.

Jun staggers back, hand gripping his chest as he stumbles, knocking into the shelves of bottled alcohol. Several crash to the floor as he collapses, the liquid begins to pool around his body splashing a bit onto Jeonghan’s shoulder and side of his clothes closest to him. The lighter falls from his hand, still clicked on, flame curling upward as it lands in the puddle on the floor.

It starts slow, then builds quickly. Fire and heat spreading as the flames lick at the floor and shelves and anything it could reach.

He looks to Jeonghan again, who watches the flames as if he had expected to see them. He meet’s Seungcheol’s eyes.

Go.

Leave me.

I deserve this.

Bury me with the rest of this.

Seungcheol’s hands shake as the fire starts to crackle.

He already knew his decision.

The fire wasn't an accident. 

I can’t.

 

Notes:

was all of this so I could make a pun about Jun being a psycho?

no...

Chapter 13: Epilogue

Vampire vanquished, Gemini burns

“…city vampire, now known to be local business owner Wen Junhui…apprehended at his establishment and home…evidence brought forward from anonymous sources led to his arrest…we have an interview here with local Chief of Police Lee Jihoon.

With the substantial evidence we received pointing to Wen, we went to bring him in for questioning. He was in the process of burning evidence when we arrived, and after an aggravated altercation, the fire spread to the alcohol storage and the old building caught fire quickly. It is unfortunate that we were unable to bring the man to a proper justice, but we thank those who came to the department and assisted in tracking Wen down. As a city we must stick together, stick close. Trust is something easily broken, and with recent events it’s understood that it will take time to heal between us. For now we will pick up the pieces and press forward, knowing there is one less monster on the streets.

…Wen was lost in the fire as well as his most recent victim Yoon Jeonghan who was found by Detective Choi Seungcheol unresponsive on the scene. There were no other casualties. The city mourns the loss of a gathering space that once felt like a second home in Gemini’s as well as the loss of philanthropist Yoon and his dedication and love for the arts. In his death, he left the remainder of his fortunes to the local Cardiology Research Foundation that supports spreading awareness of heart health and aiding those with heart conditions in their recoveries. More on this tonight at 11—”

---

Seokmin leaned over and turned off the tv before it could break for commercial.

He let out a heavy sigh and sat back down in his chair. He let his head fall back to look at the ceiling before closing his eyes. He felt lucky to still even have this job, but not seeing Mingyu’s face or hear his voice as much as he used to was torture.

But it was for the best. Maybe if he…

“Seokie?”

Seokmin sits up to see that familiarly handsome face. It lacks his usual smile, but the warmth is still there.

“Mingyu.”

The smile returns, a bit hesitant and faded, but he moves to sit in the empty chair where the other front desk clerk usually sat. He reaches over and takes Seokmin’s hand.

“Are you free tonight for dinner?”

Seokmin sucked in a breath of surprise.

“Even after all this?”

Mingyu looked at their hands together, “I’ve done some thinking. I know we said we should take some steps back after everything but…I don’t like being away from you. I miss you.”

“It's not even been a week yet.”

“I missed you as soon as you said goodbye. Look, maybe I should be upset with you for being an accomplice. Part of me want’s to, but I can’t. I love you too much. I mean it’s not like you were the one killing anyone I just—”

“Don’t rationalize it, Mingyu. You deserve better than me.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not fair everyone else is happy and I can’t be. I appreciate you trying to save me from yourself but let me make that judgment myself, okay? I was hoping we could start over. Build this on something stronger?”

Seokmin wanted this, he really did, and how could he say no to those pleading puppy eyes.

“Pick me up after work?”

That bright smile returned to Mingyu’s face, breaking past the nerves, “deal.”

“I like when you use your Chief voice.”

Soonyoung giggled from his seat on the edge of Jihoon’s desk, muting the TV as the commercials began to play.

“I do not have a Chief voice.”

Lee huffs, sitting up more in his chair. He busies himself with the paperwork on his desk, initialing and signing the same lines over and over again on different documents.

“Yes you do. It’s all deep and commanding.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Thank you.”

A silence hung in the air of his office. Not unfamiliar, but still heavy.

“How’s he doing?”

Soonyoung nods to the hallway and Jihoon knows what he’s asking.

“He took the weekend off and left early. Despite everything, I think they’re doing alright.”

Soonyoung looks down at his hands for a moment as he fidgets with the ring on his finger. Before he speaks Jihoon fills the silence, “and no, I’m not having second thoughts..”

“Jihoon.”

“I’m not. I should have asked a long time ago.”

“But I’m not a good person, Hoonie.”

He looks up to meet Soonyoung’s eyes, then glances to the TV as the news logo transitions across the screen.

“Nether am I.”

 

 

“I’m gonna miss him.”

Seungkwan looks up, from where he was in the kitchen.

“Miss who? You know they’re fine. They'll be back on Monday I'm sure.”

The commercial break plays softly in the background as Seungkwan prepares dinner.

“Not them. Jun.”

Seungkwan glances up, “Chan, he tried to kill you. The man was a murderer.”

“Okay maybe I don’t miss him…I just miss Gemini’s.”

Chan sat against the sofa in their shared apartment. It was odd not living alone anymore, but Hansol insisted. Even if he felt like the third wheel in their space sometimes. In truth, he enjoyed the attention and care. He didn’t like feeling weak because of his heart, but Hansol and Seungkwan never made him feel like any less of a person. They just wanted to make sure he stayed sober from now on.

“If it’s the bar life you’re missing maybe we can get together with everyone and hit up another place. I heard Seungcheol was pretty good at pool. But all you’re getting is water.”

Chan rolls his eyes but can’t hide his smile, “yes, Mom.”

Hansol steps out from the bedroom and laughs, pushing his glasses back over his nose “you’re just going to let him call you mom like that?”

Seungkwan pouts his lips, “well here I am cooking dinner for you two, I might as well be!”

Hansol and Chan exchange a smirk and Chan stands to head to the kitchen with him.

“Hey, I promised I’d do dishes tonight!"

 

 

Seungcheol stands holding a black umbrella over him.

It had been clear all week, and now suddenly, of course, it had to rain. Thankfully it wasn’t too heavy, but the fast approaching summer air was starting to become uncomfortable.

But he would stand here as long as he needed to.

The gravestone was still pristine. The name Jeon Wonwoo followed by his birth and death dates still completely legible despite the rain.

“I’m sorry.”

A soft voice says. He’d lost count how many times he had heard it be whispered at this point, but it never lost it’s meaning.

"I’m so sorry.”

As he hears the voice start to break into a sob he leans down and presses a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Jeonghan hesitates before lifting his hand to place his fingers on top of Seungcheol’s. He gives himself a moment before he turns away from the grave and stands back under the umbrella with him.

His hair no longer golden and long, now it was buzzed short and his natural shade of dark brown. The rain mixes with the tears down his face and Seungcheol lifts a hand to brush over the scars on his cheek to catch them. His body may have been saved from a deadly fate by fire, but it wasn’t left unchanged.

He felt new. Different.

This time it was a separate change from how he was used to. He still changed his hair and his name, but the old Yoon Jeonghan was dead.

Metaphorically and now physically, according to his death certificate.

He was now just a secret known only to the close circle at the DT police department.

It would never feel like the life he deserved.

But it was the life he had, and he was going to take it back.

Starting here, at the grave of his husband.

Paying his respects. 

Seungcheol escorted him under the umbrella back to their car. Opening the passenger door for him and making sure he was settled in before rounding the car and slipping into the drivers seat. He skakes off the umbrella, keeping as much of the water droplets outside as he can.

Jeonghan pulls down the visor to glance in the small mirror attached to it. He was still getting used to the red and scarred skin on the side of his face and neck. He felt guilty feeling sad about not looking pretty when he should just be grateful to be alive, but the guilt didn't make it any less painful.

He pauses when Seungcheol’s fingers hold his chin and turn his head to face him.

Those eyes.

How could they still look at him with such compassion?

“Ready to go?”

Jeonghan nods and he lets his fingers fall instead to take his hand. As he starts driving slowly through the rain on the narrow roads between sections of the graveyard Jeonghan breaks the silence.

“I can't believe they’re letting me plan their wedding… I only offered to help with the engagement party.”

“You seem to have a talent for it.”

“You think so?” A flicker of something like hope rests in his eyes for a moment. Seungcheol smiles warmly at the excitement in his tone.

“You’ll do great at it Han. I believe in you.”

You shouldn’t, Jeonghan’s mind said in response, like it always did. Instead he says out loud, “I love you.”

Seungcheol slows the car and looks at him.

Really looks at him.

“Do you mean it?”

Jeonghan glances down at their intertwined hands, taking a deep breath before he looks back up at him.

“Every time.”

 

 

 

 

Notes:

thank you to everyone and anyone who's read this. i've come a long way as a writer and still have a long ways to go, so thank you. they say write what you know and somehow this piece became a part of me instead.
Thank you again to Star for being with me on this journey.