Chapter Text
Winter was never a fun time in the city; especially when you had a cold case running even colder. If it weren't for the employer spending the extra money to make sure that this case stayed relevant, everything would've been over by now. Instead, a Canadian detective stood at a bus stop, watching the snowflakes fall onto the streets. Midnight always brought cold gusts of wind that ruffled his clothes and threatened to take the case file under his arm away with it.
"Hey, do you not know that the buses don't run this late anymore?" A voice questioned him.
He turned to look at the man, but his face was covered by a hood. The Canadian sniffled, clutching his arms tighter to his body before responding, "Then why are you out here if the buses don't come this late?" He shot a question back at him.
"Insomnia is a bitch and the snow calms me, but I can't watch it from my window. My apartment is right behind us. Do you want to hang till the buses are running in the morning?" The detective weighed on the idea for a moment, giving in when his body shuddered. He nodded and the hooded male stood up, motioning him to follow as he began to tread through the snow.
The lights inside the building were off; no sign of another human in sight. The detective mindlessly followed the man, watching as he put his keycard up to the elevator's scanner. It dinged and the box began to descend towards their floor.
Finally, the man took off his hood, revealing bleached hair with the roots grown out a bit too much. "Why were you waiting for the bus so late?" the man asked, turning slightly as if to look at the brunette, but the darkness that surrounded them made it near impossible to see anything.
"Work caught me up. Some shitty case that should've been dropped weeks ago is still kicking." He heard a faint hum as the elevator doors opened. They both shuffled inside, the lights now illuminating their faces. The blond moved to press a button on the keypad, watching the doors shut. "I'm Jaren Smith, by the way." He held out his hand, flinching at the feeling of cold metal against his fingers.
"John Keyes." They shook hands and waited for the lift to arrive at the floor. The numbers on the screen continued to rise as they made their way to the fifth floor. The doors opened and John took the lead, moving swiftly towards his apartment. He stuck a key into a door that read K117 and opened it for the brunette to enter.
The apartment was illuminated by a single lamp. A small living space with floor to ceiling windows had a black couch placed in the middle of the room. Facing the couch was a widescreen TV. There was a kitchen with an island separating the two spaces and a small hallway that was pitch black, but he assumed it leads to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was simple. The sound of the door closing made him turn towards the man.
"Thank you so much for letting me stay here for the night," he beamed, shedding his plain coat. He rested it over the back of a chair placed at the island. He took the folder and sat on the couch, beginning to scan over the information for what seemed like the thousandth time that week.
"It's fine, man. Don't want a cutie turning into a popsicle outside." John rested his arms on the back of the couch, leaning in to look at the documents Jaren was holding. "What's that?"
Jaren ignored the first comment and responded, "it's for my work. It's a case that should have been terminated a long time ago, but no, 'I want this and that to be justified' and 'I will not accept my daughter's murder to go cold' and blah blah blah," Jaren made his voice higher when impersonating the employer, making random hand gestures to go along with it, "Honestly, I wish my boss would just tell the damned woman to let it go." He sighed, looking behind him to stare at the tired man, scanning over his facial features. He wasn't exactly sure what he likes about the man, but damn, he was entrancing.
"Well, what happened exactly to make this person do all this?" He asked, pushing away from the back of the couch and finding his own spot across from where the detective sat.
"Uhm, apparently this girl snuck out of her house to go to some underground rave and turned up dead the next morning. She had an unusual mark carved into her chest that's linked to other murders. I'm pretty sure you've heard of them, from them being in the news a lot recently, but the authorities think it's the 'Kryoz Killer' from the mark engraved into her. Of course, the mother of the girl didn't just want to know who did it, but also wants us to find this 'mysterious' Kryoz Killer." He began rambling on, flipping to different pages of the file, showing pictures and text to the blond male he was sitting across from. It wasn't until a long yawn forced its way out of him that he realized how tired he got. "Hey, is it cool if I crash on the couch? I'm sorry for intruding still."
"No, you're all fine. I'll go get you a blanket." With that, the other male stood up and walked into the dark hallway. The opening and closing of a door echoed throughout the apartment. John reentered the room, handing a pillow and a heavy throw blanket over to the tired detective. "See you in the morning. Or not. Leave whenever. You don't have to leave a note like a clingy one night stand."
"Goodnight, John. Thank you," Jaren smiled up at the blond, watching him stalk off into the dark hallway.
"Night," he replied before slamming his bedroom door closed. Jaren sighed and situated the pillow on the couch arm before resting his head against it. He felt the aches in his muscles eased as he got comfortable. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and browsed through the endless emails he had. Thankfully, his boss told him he doesn't have to work tomorrow, so he's going to use his free day to completely forget about work and try to regain some sanity.
Jaren finally put his phone down on the coffee table after realizing that most of the emails he had were spam. He laid back, closing his eyes and slowly drifted to sleep.