Archive of Our Own ^beta

Click, click, click.

The monotonous sound was more a nuisance than a distraction. With eerie silence floating in the room, it echoed down the lengthy expanse; an irregular ticking putting the viewers on edge with anticipation, buzzing with nerves and holding their breaths with might. He could almost laugh at the absurdity, at the feigned, dainty confidence. 

Beomgyu slammed the pen against the glossy table, the abrupt clanging sound making a few people around him flinch through their faulty façades. Only then was the clicking missed as the atmosphere tensed in agonising silence.

He heaved an irritable sigh. “You mean to tell me,” he scowled, his voice unwavering and heavy, “you have no plausible evidence nor leads to show yet you call me here… to do what, exactly?”

“There has been an unusual rise in the activity of a large drug cartel,” A meekly man around his forties at the head of the table began with a weary, insecure voice. He gambled between looking intently at his statistical board and maintaining eye-contact.

“We have tried to track the interactions and trades within the network, but our data falls short due to the almost untraceable cover up we are met with once we catch a lead. Captain Jung had requested that you come in to take a look at the case,” he let out in one breath, pausing at the end to finish with, “Detective Choi.”

The room fell silent in anticipation once again. The other officials and officers at the table looked between the man who’d just spoken and Beomgyu himself, waiting for an outburst. 

It wasn’t that Beomgyu was a violent person, no. He held a certain air of superiority around him that made others cower under his gaze, yes, but he’d never lay a finger on another person unprovoked.

Yet now, the opportunity was tempting with how thin his patience was wearing. A short tether wrung tighter and tighter, the tension stretching beyond the elastic limit. 

Beomgyu didn’t have the leisurely time to spare on lost causes like these. “You do understand how these typically work, don’t you, Dowon?” 

“Of course,” he stammered over his words and hands as he handed him a folder with a single sheet inside, “we have a case file on possible suspects.”

The detective delicately opened it, making a show of reading the words despite already looking into it before. He’d gotten his hands on the feeble, unreliable pieces of evidence before joining this requested meeting and only hoped they’d present to him something he’d missed. 

Alas, there was nothing. They were handing him an empty cardboard box and asking him to identify exactly where it had been prior to its mysterious arrival.

“Who is the unnamed suspect?” He droned, giving no tell on if he was satisfied or not. Beomgyu had the question on his mind from the first time he’d read the file. A bold, red ‘[UNNAMED]’ sat at the top of the page with hardly any other tells. 

Yeonjun, department lieutenant, shuffled uncomfortably at this question from his side. He shot a low warning look at Dowon which Beomgyu caught from the corner of his eye. He knew something. 

Dowon blanked for a few seconds too long as he tried to decipher Yeonjun’s glare. By the defeated heave the boy let out, he knew his message wasn’t sent.

“The suspect is a young male who is always spotted at the crime scenes. He has dark hair and always wears a black face mask to cover his features from facial recognition. We arrested a receiver and he told us this man had delivered the package to him.” He touched his tie nervously. “The main reason we have called for you in this case is because the suspect leaves messages directed towards you for us to find almost every time.”

Beomgyu felt his muscles tense at the mention. It was never uncommon for criminals to leave threats for shits and giggles after committing, but these weren’t really threats, were they? The situation was deadly familiar to him and he dreaded the result.

“What kind of messages?” He questioned despite the inkling he already had. Beomgyu knew what this was. 

The rigid man slid a few photographs across the table. They were pictures of a crumpled, wet note hung up against broken glass. Beomgyu didn’t let his emotions shift his expressions as he read the neat handwriting. 

‘detective beommie-hyung~ when will you come find me? i miss you and your beautiful face! it’s like i’m in a constant solar eclipse, it’s dark and windy out here. look for me soon...

yours truly and handsomely, tyunnie!’

For a cold second, Beomgyu could almost laugh. He could give a bitter, frustrated chuckle at the taunting words. Instead, he felt the paper fold in under his fingers, unknowingly tightening his grip on the photo as his blood seemed to itch under his skin.

“There have been multiple notes similar to this one every time we catch a lead. The suspect always signs off with the name ‘Tyunnie’ and we have no intel on his real name,” Dowon began once the quiet atmosphere droned on for too long.

Beomgyu only drowned out his voice, letting him continue to feed him details which he already knew beforehand. He kept talking as the detective had his eyes set solely on the note, as if trying to burn a hole through the name.

Tyunnie. 

The suspect was no stranger to Beomgyu. The boy was a low-class criminal, his work ranging from countless jewelry robberies and theft to money laundering and forgery. He worked strategically enough to manage to escape every time, leaving nothing for him to trace him in any way.

Except for these notes.

Beomgyu had been assigned a hefty amount of cases which involved the criminal, and every time, without fail, he had managed to slip away right through his fingers. The boy would throw up a peace sign or even a vulgar gesture before making a swift escape with a cocky glint in his eyes. 

A few hours after an incident, the researchers on the case would bring Beomgyu a sealed note that was addressed just for him.

They varied from clever compliments to straight up taunting and teasing. Every short letter would always remind Beomgyu that, in the end, he’d let him escape, time and time again. He was playing a cat and mouse game and the guy was escaping his grasp at every last second. It was driving him mad.

“This briefing is over.” Beomgyu interrupted Dowon’s ongoing speech, halting him at the exact point where he’d mentioned that dreaded name once again. 

He heard Yeonjun huff a defeated sigh from his side before Dowon recollected himself. “I’m sorry— Detective Choi, we haven’t gone over the—“

“I am capable of doing so myself.” The detective cut him off, already stepping past him towards the door with the photograph still clutched tightly between his fingers. “This meeting is over.”

He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to look to know all the officials in the room were letting out a single breath of relief.

As satisfactory as that felt, he could not get rid of the derogatory scratch at his throat. Water. He needed water. 

Beomgyu undid the first two buttons of his white dress shirt, the simmering rage beginning to make the area feel a lot more confined and heated than it was before. He knew the photo was a crumpled mess in the death grip of his palm before he looked again. 

No one got under his skin as much as Tyunnie did.

In the worst way, it wasn’t even the fact that he was a criminal. It was due to the irksome thought that somehow he’d avoided confrontation every fucking time. He was able to escape and was so prideful at the thought that he’d go as far as to actively dangle the fact in front of Beomgyu. 

Beomgyu would go as far as calling himself one of the most quick-witted, perceptive detectives in Seoul. He knew of his abilities and would rarely undermine himself— much less let anyone else do so. 

So, why was he letting a lowlife criminal get under his skin? 

“You could have cut him some slack,” Yeonjun snaked to his side, leaning up against the wall beside the water cooler. “The man was practically sweating through his best suit.”

Beomgyu scoffed as he watched the water pour into the disposable cup. “Why was he in charge of conducting such a pivotal meeting if he couldn’t even look me in the eye?”

“You have a tendency to look at some people like you’re plotting their death on the job.” He supplied, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he watched Beomgyu down the cup in one go. “Are you going to look into it?”

“I said I was capable, didn’t I?” The detective grumbled, filling it up again right up to the brim.

Yeonjun hummed, he seemed as if he was trying to get a good read on the younger boy's emotions. “You really put on a show there,” he tested the waters, “when they mentioned the Tyunnie situation and all.” 

Beomgyu didn’t even know he was holding the cup to his chest until he felt the cold water seep through, a cool sensation chilling his skin. He’d clutched his fist so tightly around the polyester material that the contents had been forced to spill over the edge. 

“You didn’t tell me that he was on the case, Yeonjun.” He seethed through his teeth, meeting Yeonjun’s eyes that were filled with pure amusement. As others addressed the suspect with the supposed nickname, Beomgyu had never let it grace his lips. “You know my history with him.” 

“So, what, you let him slip a few times and now it’s your trigger thought?” The older boy challenged. “Everyone makes their big mistakes. You need to move on.” 

“It wasn’t a few times, and it certainly isn’t a mistake. The guy is purposely playing with me,” he countered, “he’s making an appearance at almost every crime scene, and now he’s gotten himself into a drug network?”

It didn’t make any sense. Beomgyu spent countless hours looming over every bit of evidence they had against the criminal and he stuck strictly to any sort of theft. Anything at all that seemed to be intertwined with money, he was there. He was never at murder scenes nor arson cases— certainly not drug involvement. This was a completely new turn and it never added up. Nothing about Tyunnie made sense; not his activity and certainly not his interest in Beomgyu. 

“This could be your chance; your redemption, if you may.” Yeonjun gushed. “That, and you will be responsible for taking down one of the biggest drug lords in Seoul. That’s got to take the trophy, right?”

Beomgyu didn’t ponder. “Send me the files.” He simply ended it at that, disposing of his cup before turning on his heel and trekking down the hall. He pulled on his dress jacket, smoothing out the lapels just enough so that they would cover up the see-through soaked portion of his shirt. 

This job would one day be his tipping point.

Had Beomgyu known he would be spending his weekend begrudgingly sifting through the same files over and over again, he would not have attended that dreaded meeting.

He kept a low melody playing in the background just to hold him back from completely mentally collapsing as he looked over the pages. A simple piano wafting through the air as the words across his desk seemed to dance and taunt him. The detective worked at his coffee table with a warm lamp by his side and his laptop running untouched. He would have been working from his office had it not been so late— had it not been a Saturday.  

Sprawled in front of him were any sort of case files relating to Tyunnie. Some dated back to months ago whereas others were from only a few days back.

Yeonjun’s words twiddled around his mind every so often, either motivating him or pulling him back. Part of him was convinced that he would finally put the convict behind bars with the last laugh, but another nagging bit reminded him that the guy was always somehow a few steps ahead. 

Beomgyu didn’t even know the name of the person he was chasing. How could he have hope for any more?

He repressed the urge to throw a fit when he looked back at the note from the meeting. The messy, careless handwriting was almost giving him the middle finger, taunting him restlessly. ‘Look for me soon’, it read, but where? 

How the criminal managed to keep such a low profile despite his large scale heists was beyond Beomgyu. He never stayed at the same place twice, always covered his skin and never revealed his face.

On top of it all, he was having fun with it. 

Beomgyu decided he had inflicted enough mental torture on himself and went to go over everything one more time before heading to bed. It would all still be here in the morning. 

The cursed note sat smack in front of him, crumpled and damaged. He’d memorised the words by now with how many times he had read them. 

It’s like I’m in a constant solar eclipse.

That part had irked him in the wrong place with every read. The wording was a play on something. He knew it, but he couldn’t place it. Through experience, Beomgyu knew the way he worked, despite it surprising him every time.

Then, it hit him.

Like an illuminating light bulb had suddenly lit and given him the hope he needed, he gaped at the sentence before turning to his laptop and typing away rapidly. Beomgyu felt the pride well up almost instantly.

Solar eclipse. 

Tyunnie was staying at the Solaria Nishitetsu Hotel.

That was what he was hinting at with the metaphor. Beomgyu was already typing away a message to the police department with the google search open to his side. A bright picture of the twenty-two story building illuminated his screen as he feverishly wrote a frantic explanation. 

Of course, Beomgyu knew the criminal was leading him there. He just knew he was not expecting it to be this soon.

With hectic movements, he hit send and darted out of his desk chair, barely making time to grab anything but his wallet. The detective left his own home in a flash, making his way to the police department to take part in the bust.

He needed to bring him down with his own hands. 

Beomgyu fastened the gun in his hands. He stood his guard and listened dutifully to the commands of the sergeant. Yeonjun stood to his near right, assigned solely to watch his back in case there was a targeted attack.

They had arrived at the hotel mere minutes after his discovery with a group of cops alongside them. After demanding for information on all the residents at the reception with the manager, they had narrowed it down to roughly a few rooms, and Beomgyu was certain this was the one. The person had signed in under the name Terry. 

Inevitably, there they all stood; right outside room 553 counting down the seconds before they’d kick the door open off of its hinges and reveal whether months of Beomgyu’s work would mean anything. Everything was electronic, but using the card to unlock the door might set him off. 

With a sparingly short command, everything whizzed by within seconds. 

At one instant, Beomgyu was counting the breaths he had before he’d arrest the criminal, the next, he was in the middle of the room as officers swarmed each and every part. 

Empty.

He knew it before the commander reported the fact to him. He wouldn’t hide in a little room, no matter how many people there were.

“Nothing from anyone.” Yeonjun huffed to him once he returned to his side. He didn’t pack the gun back into the belt of his gear suit in fear something would happen. “He isn’t—”

“The roof.” Beomgyu breathed out.

“What?” The lieutenant echoed, but Beomgyu was already on his heels and darting out of the expensive room. He briefly heard Yeonjun yell some commands at some other officers to follow him, but it was quickly stifled by his heavy padding up the stairs. 

It’s dark and windy out here , he’d written as the second part of the riddle. Beomgyu couldn’t decipher how exactly Tyunnie would know when to go to the roof, but he was close to certain he was there at that very instant. 

Beomgyu’s fingers itched and his legs burned as he reached the top floor with a few more officers at tow. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his gun when he noticed the rooftop door already ajar. This was it.

With a few prepping breaths, he pushed it wide open and got into position with his arms stretched outwards in front of him.

In seconds, his eyes locked onto a shadowed figure with their back towards him.

“You have been surrounded by the Seoul Police Department, drop any weapons you have on you and put your hands up.” Beomgyu dictated harshly over the beating wind, squinting when his long hair escaped the tie he had in. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, head feeling just a bit lighter. 

Still, he did not drop his aim.

Turning away from the skyline view, the masked criminal turned over with his hands in the air. With a gleaming glint in his wide eyes and not a single trace of fear.

His black hair flew back against the currents. “Good evening to you, too. Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

Beomgyu didn’t let his comment rile him up, not when he was so close.

“Don’t move,” he challenged instead, inching a few steps closer as the handcuffs seemed to burn against his thigh in anticipation. He moved slowly and diligently because Tyunnie wouldn’t lure him out here just to let him freely arrest him, would he?

“The bulky police wear is not a good look on you,” Beomgyu could practically see the frown beneath his mask despite not knowing the shape of his lips, “have you thought of trying some brighter colours?”

From the corner of his eye, he spotted the others scanning the area in search of anyone else. A few blocked the other possible exits, and three more stood right behind him, following his steady, tranquil pace. 

And when he noticed Tyunnie’s hands beginning to lower, his heart rate spiked. 

“Keep your hands up.” He demanded with a rough voice. “I have you in my line of shot.”

Ignoring his command, the criminal took a few steps back at the same speed that Beomgyu was approaching. “You wouldn’t actually shoot me, would you, Beommie?” He taunted, his hands already halfway down. Beomgyu couldn't spot any weapons on him, but he wouldn’t be taking that gamble blindly.

“I said don’t move.” The tense command breezed past him unbothered just like the whipping wind. 

“Detective Choi, we—”

“Don’t shoot.” Beomgyu shot down the officer to his right. 

“This feels a little one sided, don’t you think?” he huffed a sigh just when the back of his foot hit the wall. Beomgyu had him cornered. “I mean, I can see your gorgeous face fully but you haven’t even gotten a glimpse of mine.” 

Feeding into his arrogance would only further prompt him to keep going, Beomgyu told himself as he inclined in. Seven feet away. He didn’t comment on any of his empty compliments nor the open question, even if he was the slightest bit curious.

“Fair is right, and justice is the aim, I guess,” the criminal sighed dreamily, using his arms to lift himself up onto the edge. He sat there idly, his back open to the bright city skyline. He wore a long, black coat and it whipped harshly over the edge, almost as if it was trying to tug him over and outwards. “I mean, that’s your motto, right?”

Beomgyu tried to ignore the way his mind was spinning at the thought of his one suspect being so close to such a dangerous edge. 

His shock only further rose as the thief's hand rose up to his ear. He slowly unhooked the elastic from his ear, pulling away the mask and dropping it over the edge.

Beomgyu would have called him drop dead gorgeous if he wasn’t seconds away from actually dropping dead. 

Because, beneath that thin cloth was the last puzzle piece to everything he’d worked for, and no one here had a camera to capture it for further inspection. 

Most importantly, the criminal homed the sly smirk Beomgyu knew he held all the time. 

“Stunning, I know.” He broke through his daze, and the detective didn’t even know he’d stopped moving. “It’s a shame I have to keep it covered. Otherwise, you guys will barge in and then we won’t be able to meet like this again, Beommie.”

“Get back on the ground.” Beomgyu demanded shakily as he watched the criminal begin to hoist himself up. His body looked so frail and small it seemed like the wind could topple him over in the wrong direction. 

When he was fully up on his feet, he gave a toothy grin. “That’d be no fun, would it, sweetheart?”

How he stood so carefree on the very edge was beyond comprehension. They were at the top of a twenty story building, and a fall this high would surely kill him. On top of that, he was targeted by multiple guns. Just what game was he playing?

“We have you surrounded,” he repeated over the bustling of the city, “step down from the edge and don’t resist.” 

“Ah, want me tied up?” The criminal gushed as if they were two teens sneaking around after school. “Unfortunately, we have an audience, and I have a place to be. Maybe next time, yeah?” 

Beomgyu’s heart leaped when he saw him take the first step backwards. The heel of his foot had no leverage by then. 

“I said step do—”

“It was absolutely splendid seeing you again,” he beamed, “may we meet again.” And, then, he fell. 

Beomgyu’s track forward fell short as he watched, horrified, as the boy shot him a flying kiss before leaning back and disappearing over the edge.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, ridden with fear and rooted in place as the scene played over and over in his head like a feeble broken record. The man had just revealed his face to him then jumped of a fucking building.

With a raged gasp for air, the detective sprinted forward. He braced his hands on the ledge, peering his head over and trying to spot anything. There was no one at the bottom, people continued on with their evening as if a criminal hadn’t just fallen off the building they walked by. He wasn’t here anymore

“God damn it.” Beomgyu heaved. He chucked his gun onto the floor, not caring if it went off in the wrong direction. The frustration had been simmering slowly but surely and he’d just reached the point where it was all spilling over.

Tyunnie had escaped his grasp once again. He’d lured him out here just for the sole purpose of teasing him. Beomgyu fell right into it again. 

Just as he was trying to ease down the explosive rage, the comm in his ear crackled to life.

“Beomgyu? Detective, do you hear me?” Yeonjun spoke frantically. “We’ve caught the suspect. We have him in holding and he is being taken for questioning.

As if the universe had heard him, the impossible had just come undone.

Beomgyu couldn’t fathom how his team had managed to catch him nor could he understand how Tyunnie survived a twenty story drop. It was nearing two in the morning and he was still high on heavy adrenaline. He knew the crash would be fatal. 

He had disregarded the pleas to come back the next morning to question the suspect. He pretended not to notice the wary glances shot his way as he darted down the hall with a blazing fire in his eyes.

In the end, it didn’t matter how they caught him. He was here. After so many trials and tribulations, Beomgyu finally had him within his grasp.

He spotted Yeonjun standing by the door of the interrogation room, restlessness evident on his face. His shoulders were tense and his gaze was unforgiving. Beomgyu guessed that he had not let anyone speak to the criminal before him. 

“How did he survive?” He demanded from him before a greeting, his fingers itching to just barge in and force the answers from the man himself.

A quick glance at their surroundings and Yeonjun shook his head. “Come inside.” 

Beomgyu wanted to yell— shake the answers out of him as if he could yank them away with his own hands. He was waiting for some sort of explanation after watching someone fall back off a building in front of his own eyes. Of course, he would want to know anything. But, he knew the rules, and cases could not be discussed in the open. 

When they entered the room, Beomgyu caught eye of the unmasked criminal. He watched through the one-sided window as he twiddled with the cuffs that his hands were restrained in. Unharmed. He was unharmed and alive.

Almost as if he knew someone was on the other side, the criminal’s eyes flicked up towards him and a small smirk played on his lips. It was unnerving and taunting, especially since he wasn’t able to see anything but himself from the other side of the window. 

“One of the officers had requested the hotel owner to alert all the residents to lock their doors and stay inside when we arrived,” Yeonjun began, eyeing the same boy wearily, “as soon as you went for the roof, we got an alert from him that a higher room had been unlocked. Someone was working with him to help him escape.” 

“That doesn’t explain how he lived through that fall.”

“He didn’t fall.” Yeonjun retorted just when Tyunnie heaved a dramatic sigh, leaning back as much as the restraints would let him. “He positioned his jump right above the balcony of that room. It was initially locked but someone opened it for him and we got there before he jumped in.”

Beomgyu gaped. “He’s insane.”

And just when the sizzling adrenaline began to die down, he really began to take in the fact that this was really the first time anyone in the department had seen the convict's face properly. He was known for the black mask covering it almost fully along with the jet black hair falling over his eyes. 

Though, now his hair was disheveled from the wind and the journey here, his forehead on display. His nose was a smooth, straight slope, lips red and sitting in a resting grin. 

Why was someone so attractive wasting away his life like this? There was so much to him that just didn’t make sense— he was a puzzle, except all the pieces were the same shape and the final picture was a solid colour. 

Beomgyu braced himself for the impossible conversation he was going to have.

“Detective Beommie,” the boy beamed, sitting up straight when he spotted him entering the room. He intertwined his fingers together before blinking up innocently at him with long, thick eyelashes, “my knight in shining armour.”

“Don’t.” Beomgyu droned. He took the seat across from him, the case files already sprawled upon it— out of the criminals' reach. Tyunnie had his hands embraced in cuffs which were sealed to the table. It gave him close to no leverage to move his arms around. 

The detective subtly took in a heavy breath. He tried to mask the nerves even though it felt as if the vessels underneath his skin were burning up and itching agonisingly. The room was purposely a small box-like containment to emit minimal distractions, but as of now, it felt too small for Beomgyu’s liking. With no windows nor openings, he felt way too constricted.

Because he finally had the upper hand on the boy. For the first time, Beomgyu knew precisely where he was and he would not be able to slip away. He had the thief constrained right in the middle of his palm, between his tightening fingers with no escape. This was the only moment where he was close to certain that the boy did not have any sort of trick riding up his sleeve. 

So, why did it seem he did? Why was he grinning so confidently as if he was not about to face years in a dreaded prison?

“This wasn’t my idea of a sweet first date but I get that work can be pretty time consuming,” he pouted solemnly against Beomgyu’s hard glare before offering a toothy smile, “as long as you’re here.” 

“State your name.” The detective disregarded his suave words. His own speech was short and clipped, down to the point. As much as he wanted to know everything, this was the last place he wanted to be in. 

The convict frowned at the demand, furrowing his eyebrows. “Tyunnie, but you can call me yours, Detective.”

“We have facial recognition devices to find your origin if you do not comply,” he evaded his futile attempts once again, amusement beginning to cloud over the initial nerves, “you can make this much easier for both of us. State your birth name and family name.” 

Unfazed. “Let your little machines do the work, but you won’t find anything, really.” 

Beomgyu had to stop himself from jumping over and strangling the criminal with his own hands.

They wouldn’t get anywhere with this. “Do you have any relations regarding the recent activity of a large drug cartel?” 

There it was. A minuscule, barely noticeable slip up. Tyunnie had let that arrogant, cocky mask crack in just the slightest bit for Beomgyu to look through. His eyes flashed with recognition before he blinked and it was gone in an instant. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” He huffed, tilting his head in a feign of innocence. For a short moment, Beomgyu thought he would have been a lovely boy had he not been weighed down by his sins. 

“We have evidence of your involvement in trade and selling.” Beomgyu delivered smoothly, making sure the eye contact was held intact the entire time. “If you confess now and give us the names then we can cut down your prison sentence by half,” he offered, “or even more.” 

“That would be appealing to me,” he nodded as though he was considering the offer, “if I actually had something to confess, that is.”

“Lying will not help you in any case,” the detective offered whilst trying to subdue the fizzing frustration. He would address him by his name if he would just give it to him— and there was no way in hell that he would begin to actually speak the dreaded nickname out loud.

The criminal grimly shrugged. “It’s gotten me this far, hasn't it, Detective?” He smirked. “After all, you’ve never been able to catch me because of my little tricks.”

Before Beomgyu could state his own command, the door abruptly swung open, a young officer looking in shyly. Beomgyu barely regarded the name tag upon his uniform, the name Huening written in block font. “Detective Choi? Captain Jung is asking for you.”

“Tell him it can wait,” Beomgyu scowled, his eyes trained intently on Tyunnie. The boy simply held the stare with the relaxed smile tugging at his red lips.

“He said it was urgent— regarding the drug case and…” the officer trailed, “the criminal, too.” 

“Criminal? Is that my brand around here?” Tyunnie whined aloud. He clicked his tongue, his expression shifting into one between a mix of disappointment and pride. “Why not Beommie’s star-crossed lover?” 

Beomgyu had heard enough. He could not tell if he was upset that his interrogation had been cut dreadfully short, or thankful that the captain had saved him from any further irritation. The detective piled the files together in one heap before taking it all with him and leaving the room without a single look.

It didn’t matter, because the thief would still be there when he got back. 

He made a short trip to the bathroom to splash some icy water on his face, just to shock his mind back into focus after an interrogation that got him nowhere . All he knew for certain was that the boy was definitely invested in the drug cartel and was actively denying the fact. He’d just need to find a way to persuade him into confessing. 

As of now, he had to deal with whatever the hell Captain Jung had demanded his presence for. 

“I’m sorry, excuse my language,” Beomgyu scoffed, chuckles of disbelief barely escaping his lips as he shook his head. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The siding officials grimaced. Even Yeonjun struggled to keep down the distinct frown on his face. Beomgyu knew he noticed how much this proposal had struck him— just how much he was dreading such an absurd request.

Part of him had thought— no, hoped , that everyone had collectively decided to play a daunting joke on him with the one thing he would inevitably dread the most. He wondered if the precinct needed a quick spike of humour to lift the air and get them back in spirit. 

Judging by the stern look on Hoseok’s face, Beomgyu was the only one that found this uncharacteristically funny. 

“The absence of leads will bring us nowhere with how skillfully they cover their tracks.” The captain discerned calmly. “One of our only clues is sitting in a small room a few doors down. We have the optimal opportunity sitting idly in our hands. It would not be reasonable to let that go, Detective.”

“Don’t you think this is a bit of a reach?” Beomgyu scowled, growing ansty with every passing second. As much as he was willing to argue, he knew that eventually he’d give in. It was a lost cause going against it in the beginning.

“If I may,” a male officer squeaked from down the table, wringing his fingers nervously through each other, “we don’t have any other clues. This is the only plausible direction to go.”

Beomgyu weighed between the option of giving that young boy a piece of his mind or outright quitting his job on the spot. “Who’s to say he won't rat us out? You’re asking for too much from a criminal, may I remind you.”

Because, really, losing this title would be much more favourable than being asked to work with the thief prodigy. Anything in the entire universe would be better than such a request. 

Beomgyu came into this briefing with the impression that they were giving up on convincing Tyunnie to confess; that they were calling it a closed case and throwing him in prison. Despite the uneasy feeling tickling at the base of his stomach, he accepted it. He wanted justice, but over pride? It was an easy decision.

So, when Captain Jung had informed him that he had a proposal for him, he was pleased, albeit slightly worried. After that, it all morphed into an immense, overwhelming feeling of discomfort and shock when they told him the plan.

The room felt as if time had taken a pause as he explained how they could use the criminal to gain input on the drug cartel— to use him as a catalyst to the bust, he’d worded it. The captain wanted to put Beomgyu on the job.

“The pros outweigh the losses for him,” He added. “In addition, we will have him monitored constantly. He will not get the chance to meet up with anyone to disclose any information without us knowing, especially since you will be by him.”

Before Beomgyu could stir up another downside they would face, Yeonjun butted in. “I think it’s a good idea,” he offered whilst sympathetically glancing at the detective, “he has access to people we have no intel on. We would gain much more than we could if we were to decide against this idea. The man is only newly introduced to the cartel, he wouldn’t have any personal connections and I doubt he would mind selling them out if his reward is big enough.”

Just like that, as if the court gavel had hit the table in a silencing demand, Beomgyu knew that any fruitless excuses would do no justice. His petty personal malice against the boy had nothing against the obvious upper hand that working with him would offer.

One moment ago, he was ready to rid himself of this part of his life. A second later, he was closer now more than ever.

“I will inform him.” Beomgyu concluded as his own way of agreement, making sure his tone signified his distaste loud and clear. 

Beomgyu took in a sharp inhale once he stepped into the confined room— the one which was previously locked.

Ahead of him, sat leisurely at the table, was the same person he was dreading to see. The only deeper downside was that he had no constraints. His wrists were freed of the handcuffs, the pair sitting idly on the surface of the table. He had his legs up on top of it, one folded up over the other as his arms laid folded over his chest.

“How did you…” Beomgyu breathed, feeling his upper thigh for where his gun was supposed to be— except, he was not in the attire and all he was met with was the rough material of his pants. 

“How impolite of you to invite me over just to leave me unaccompanied.” Tyunnie frowned. He lifted his gaze towards him, his head angled to the side in a way where his wide eyes were fully showcased.

Beomgyu stood there stricken. How had he been able to escape the constraints with no one else in the room? With nothing else in the room? 

Without a second thought, the detective sought forward and grabbed the handcuffs, leaping over to catch him off guard and gain control once again.

But, as if the universe was working on the criminals' side, the smaller boy hooked his fingers around Beomgyu’s wrist in one fluid movement and yanked him closer. He lost his unstable footing, his other hand reaching for any leverage— which happened to be the boy’s shoulder. 

In an instant, the criminal used his free hand to grab hold of Beomgyu’s own. With one arm extended and the other entrapped, Beomgyu hovered over the boy, his breath caught and stuck in his throat.

He was close . A gripping smirk played at the thief’s lips, his eyes glinting with pride before he spoke. “You smell like lavender.” 

Beomgyu felt his breath on his skin. It dusted over his lips. 

With a start, he shoved the hand that was resting on his shoulder back, clasping the shorter boy’s wrist within his grasp. He took the sudden shock as an opening to seize the other, pulling them both behind him and clipping the cuffs back in place. 

“Come on, I wasn’t planning on leaving or going anywhere,” the convict whined childishly, “I was just playing.” 

“Do you genuinely think I have any interest or time for your games ?” Beomgyu seethed. He tried diligently to recollect, reminding himself that he had a request to offer— no matter how badly he didn’t want to.

He didn’t wait for the boy to reply, nor did he sit down on the adjacent chair waiting invitingly. If he couldn’t top him in confidence, height would do. “The captain has a proposal for you. He is requesting your amenable cooperation.” 

“Are my ears deceiving me?” Tyunnie grinned that same sly, teasing smile. With his hands restrained behind his back, his chest spread out and looked devilishly broader. “Is the police department asking for my help?” 

“They are asking for your collaboration,” he countered, counting down the minutes before he’d be able to leave, “as you have recent ties and connections to a very big drug lord.”

“Now, who’s spewing those lies?”

Beomgyu didn’t let his stance waver. “We worried you would not comply, so let me convince you,” he sighed, “say you cooperate with us and successfully work to bring them down, your prison will be reduced drastically, maybe even terminated with a good enough lawyer. Your name will be cleared.”

He seemed to consider it, only to drop the facade with an amused smile. “You don’t know my name, though.”

“With facial recognition, we will.” He quickly spoke before the criminal could tell him anything else. “Deny the request, and you’ll be charged for theft, money laundering, forgery and, most recently, drug trade as per usual. This translates roughly to between fifteen years at least to a life sentence,” he paused before taking his turn to smirk, “at most.”

With the looming threat of having his life robbed from him, Tyunnie looked human for the first time. He didn’t offer any smart remarks or blatant pet names, nor did he hold the air of confidence around him. Beomgyu had struck a nerve. 

So, in the midst of his first victory, why did he feel an ugly, unsettling feeling pinch at the base of his stomach?

Almost as if it was never there, the boy wiped the emotion off of his face within seconds. “Will I be working with you, then?” 

“Unfortunately,” Beomgyu huffed, deciding not to dwell on the iffy feeling from a moment ago.

“How delightful,” he grinned, “although, I do have my own terms before we embark on this lovely journey together.”

Beomgyu paused, eyebrows furrowed. Of course , he had his own requests. Apparently freedom was not a big enough factor to ease him into the action. He wasn’t sure if anything he offered would be willingly on the table for grabs— or if they were legal .

When the detective didn’t speak, he continued. “No one is allowed to push me for any information unrelated to the case. When we’re done, I’m expecting support in court and,” he jiggled his hands so the cuffs would make a clashing sound, “you can’t keep me restrained.”

Beomgyu didn’t know if he should have disregarded his request regarding the restriction or question the lack of money in the deal. He’d expected the smaller boy to demand a whopping, glimmering reward to equip alongside a few other luxuries. Instead, these three simple, doable (even with the lack of restraints) commissions had been offered up. 

“Done.” He glowered. “We’re expecting your full cooperation.”

The boy began collecting his things, sifting the files into one neat pile. Tyunnie watched the action warily. “Good.” He wondered. Once Beomgyu was beginning his track to the door, he yelped— “Hey, I’m still in these cuffs, Choi.”

“Our mission hasn’t started yet,” he grinned half way outside the door before looking over his shoulder, “ Tyunnie. ”

As if sealing the bow on a nicely done gift, he shut the door to the sound of the boy complaining and calling for him through the walls. 

Some victories tonight were bigger than others, he thought.

“I cannot believe the first task is a stakeout. Kill me now, I’d be better off.”

Yeonjun barely gave him a seconds-worth of a glance. Frankly, he’d been the bearer of Beomgyu’s constant whining for the better half of the last hour and was growing restless with every complaint. He wouldn’t tell him that, though— not when he knew just how much this was troubling him.

After a few rough days of wary analysing and probing at their recently caught criminal, Captain Jung had finally declared him temporarily trustworthy for the task. They’d gone over multiple pledges, and even though the sly boy nodded and dedicated his full honesty, Beomgyu would not be the one to be fooled by his work. He could practically see the gears turning and scheming in his eyes.

With that, imagine his utter excitement when the task force informs them that the convict had disclosed a common trade location and let the detective know that he’d be accompanying him for a stakeout. 

They had backed up the claim by saying it wouldn’t be wise to jump in without concrete evidence. They persuaded him by feeding him high compliments; that he was their most trusted ally on the case to watch Tyunnie . 

Beomgyu had considered backing down. He would rather do anything than sit in a room with the boy for possibly hours on end to watch a supermarket across the street.

He would have, had said boy not challenged him. The criminal framed him as short tempered and unnegotiable and Beomgyu was seconds away from showing him just how short tempered he really was. 

Alas, there they were. Yeonjun had taken pity on him. The lieutenant decided to spend the first few moments with the two so Beomgyu wouldn’t have his ears talked off.

Ironic how Beomgyu was the one doing the talking. 

“You know what? I’m going to head out.” Yeonjun heaved whilst pulling his jacket alongside his face mask. They were residing in a small apartment building next to a dainty supermarket— where Tyunnie had told them a few of the trades took place. There were eyes everywhere. “Need to sort out some paperwork.”

Beomgyu almost fell over in a hurry to stand up after him. He was tilting his chair over and the sudden movement almost sent him toppling backwards. “What? You don’t have any— you should stay here.”

Yeonjun glanced at the small bathroom that Tyunnie had left into. “You already have the company.”

“Come on, we still haven’t seen any activity. We have a few hours ahead of us,” Beomgyu laughed warily, “and we can’t go back empty handed.”

“ You won’t, because you’ll be here when something happens.” The lieutenant grinned, already reaching for the door. 

Before Beomgyu could further pester him, the bathroom handle jiggled and the door creaked. “Goodluck, Detective.” Yeonjun saluted before hastily making an escape.

“Well, that was quick.” Tyunnie scoffed as he emerged from the bathroom. “I could tell he was counting down the seconds until it would be acceptable to leave.” 

Beomgyu huffed, “You don’t know anything about him,” he quipped, taking exaggerated steps back to the chair situated in front of the window, “he had some paperwork to attend to.”

“I’m almost certain I heard he didn’t,” he paused, “from you. Funny, isn’t it?”

The detective turned hastily in his chair to give him a piece of his mind— the first of many to come— until the sight beheld in front of him rendered him speechless. The words got lost in his throat, his lips parted in what could’ve been said.

“Your hair is red.” He gaped. The boy stood proudly, vibrant, red strands falling over his eyes. It was still drying and he had a towel rubbing at the back of his head, his muscles flexing with the consistent movement. On top of that, his hair was red .

Beomgyu hadn’t thought twice when the criminal resided in the bathroom for more than an hour— which should’ve been a red flag that he’d escaped had he not been relishing in the silence. He was more than certain that they’d arrived with him sporting black hair.

“Take a picture, sweetheart,” the now redhead offered his sly grin before slumping in the chair right beside Beomgyu’s, “it’ll last much longer.”

“Why?” he wondered aloud, still partly dazed ( mesmerised ?) by the reveal. 

The convict looked at him warily with his eyebrows furrowed. There was a genuine stutter in his confidence, the arrogance sweeped out right under his feet. He offered, unsure, “Pictures physically last longer… than your memory?”

And Beomgyu could almost laugh. Almost .

“Not the flirting, you idiot,” he uttered instead, “I mean, why did you dye it so suddenly?” 

As if a lightbulb had clicked on in the inside of his head, the shorter boy looked baffled. A gentle dahlia-flower-pink dusted his cheeks and it hit Beomgyu then— he was embarrassed.

So, he does have normal human reactions, the detective thought.

“They’ll recognise me too easily if I stick with the black,” was all he answered with. 

Beomgyu didn’t offer anything after that. In all honesty, the look of shyness that the boy had displayed was replaying in his head. From his place, he could faintly spot the tinge of red at the tips of his ears. Beomgyu wondered if he wasn’t usually caught off guard, if he was used to having the upper hand in most situations in terms of confidence. 

When he didn’t pipe up with another statement, Beomgyu knew his assumption was right. The information would come in handy much later. 

With that, the lengthy, dreadful stakeout had properly begun. They took rotations— after an eventful argument of how it’d be arranged. Turns out, the criminal's bashfulness didn’t last very long. Within minutes, he’d gone back into his feigned arrogance with ease. He’d gone back to his personal mission which was to play at Beomgyu restlessly. 

“How lucky we are to be assigned this task,” he’d heaved dreamily over the small desk they had set up, “just us alone; what a dream.”

The older boy had been in the middle of writing in his hourly report and his fingers gripped just a little bit tighter at hearing his voice again. “Keep talking and you will end up alone in a cell.” 

“Unjust,” he muttered, turning back to watch the window carefully while munching obnoxiously at a chocolate bar. 

Every so often, he would gasp while sputtering alarming claims. Beomgyu jumped every time, almost tripping on his feet in an attempt to see what he was seeing only for the younger boy to claim it was nothing. 

“Never mind, it’s just an old man in a suit buying some—“ he squinted, “—condoms? Wow, get it, I guess. My mistake.” 

And, every time, Beomgyu knew it wasn’t a mistake judging by the light smile that played on his lips. Still, he fell for it each time. His tether to sanity was wearing impossibly thin with each passing minute. 

Once they rotated and Beomgyu was passing the time by carefully watching each customer, Tyunnie had to find ways to entertain himself. 

Of course, that entertainment had to be the only other boy in the room. 

“This is a serious job, stop distracting me,” Beomgyu glowered.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” the redhead frowned. Truth be told, he really wasn’t. Not first handedly, but Beomgyu could practically feel his stare burning him. Without even glancing his way, he knew that the boy had his eyes trained directly on him. It shouldn’t have been such a bother. 

The undivided attention only burdened him. His body felt warm all over and his mind was a jumbled mess. 

“Have you ever thought of tying your hair in a ponytail?” he questioned carelessly and Beomgyu was beginning to think that he should not have taken his silence for granted. “Or, maybe half up half down? You’d look really good.” 

Beomgyu had tied his hair up on multiple occasions. It was almost shoulder length, but he only did it alone to get it out of his face. Never for style or in front of others. “No, I haven’t.”

“You should, detective.” 

“Thanks for the input, I'll take it to heart,” he muttered sarcastically as he watched the sun set. If he learned anything today, it was that even if he didn’t reply to the boy, it wouldn’t get him to stop talking. He may as well give in since the day was going nowhere. 

“Why can’t I drive the escape car?” he whined only ten minutes later. They’d already had this conversation cloud the air multiple times and the tether linking Beomgyu to his sanity was wearing thin. “A free excuse to speed through red lights, you’re robbing me of dreams.” 

The detective scoffed, “If your dream is to run a red light then you’ve got some pretty depressing dreams,” he paused, “and I can’t trust you not to drive us to some abandoned warehouse so you can kill me off and make your great escape.” 

“Yah, your faith in me is so low, I’m wounded,” the redhead gaped. 

“Try nonexistent.” 

Light banter thrown here and there filled the atmosphere. As the hours stretched by, Beomgyu was beginning to wonder if Tyunnie was setting them up to waste their time and that he wasn’t really working with them. It was plausible, but it would only result in longer years in prison. Would he really risk that just for a little laugh? 

Spending hours with him, coped up in a small one-room apartment went exactly as he’d imagined it to go; with the younger boy edging him on and practically feeding him with frustration. Snappy remarks and flirty comments thrown his way only raising his irritation. 

Only, what he hadn’t expected were the glimpses of serenity he’d caught from him. Moments where he seemed like he was dozing off, his eyes drooping in front of the glass window. Others where he constantly rummaged through the snacks they brought with them, delight lighting up his features when he’d find something he enjoyed. There were even some where he just sat silently, a delicate, thoughtful look sitting on his face which made him look younger. Innocent. 

Beomgyu didn’t know what to make of the ruckus of thoughts in his mind. 

It was beginning to brew a headache, and sitting in the uncomfortable chair wasn’t doing it any justice. 

“Rotate,” he muttered, already stepping out of his chair. “I’m going to lie down a little.” 

Tyunnie was on his feet, what might’ve been an inappropriate comment playing on his lips as he approached Beomgyu to switch tasks. 

It might’ve. Might have, since the smile immediately dropped from his face, replaced by some sort of horror. Beomgyu was about to ask what the cause was when everything shifted within seconds.

At one moment, he was stood upright with his back to the window as he faced the criminal. The next, he hit the floor with a heavy thud, said boy falling on top of him as the glass shattered into pieces and a gunshot sounded in the air. His muscles protested in agony as they fell, the air forced out of his lungs due to the impact and the weight above him. 

“Don’t move,” the boy on top of him whispered harshly, keeping them both down so they were out of view. 

Beomgyu wasn’t planning on moving anyway. The initial shock was still settling in as his eyes zeroed in on the bullet sitting amongst the shards of glass. The same bullet which would have found home in his back had he been in place a few milliseconds longer. His heart was thudding rapidly in fear and relief both swirled together in one. 

He couldn’t hear anything other than the rapid beat in his ears and a faint ringing from the spontaneous gunshot. Beomgyu tried to organise his senses, but everything had happened so fast and he realised— he was that close to dying. His mind was a jumbled mess and all he could think was that his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

After almost a minute of unsolicited silence, the redhead lifted his head. He got a good look down at Beomgyu before asking, “Do you want some sand?” 

“What?” Beomgyu almost cried out. “Are you insane ? Why the fuck would I want sand in a moment like this— what do you even mean?”

Without further explanation, the boy above him nodded. “We need to get out of here now.” 

The detective was still baffled by his odd question. Only then did he notice that his hands were balled into tight fists at the criminals back, bunching his shirt into his grips in an attempt to be close to something familiar. The redhead had his arms at either side of Beomgyu’s head, leaning back as far as he’d let him with his arms around him. His hair traced his head like a glowing halo. 

Beomgyu quickly dropped his hands, just so the younger could smirk, “Didn’t know you were the cuddling type,” before he pulled him up and grabbed him.

They made a hasty escape, Tyunnie ’s surprisingly soft fingers encircled around his wrist. They kept their heads down, aiming for the back door so they wouldn’t have to face anyone on the way out.

“Can you hurry up?” the criminal bit, giving his hand a tough tug. “If I get assassinated for snitching, I will haunt you for your entire life, Choi.” 

Beomgyu yanked his hand out of his grasp before huffing after him, “I don’t imagine it’d be any different from now, would it?” he followed in his step before pridefully adding, “You dragging me right behind you is slowing me down.” 

The redhead looked harshly over his shoulder, his hair swishing madly with the current. “It’s not my fault you were practically paralyzed, your highness.” 

“I was fine ,” Beomgyu quipped.

“You almost got shot!” he shrieked, almost tripping over his footing when the detective ran past him and their shoulders bumped. 

“That’d work greatly in your favour, now, wouldn't it?” he disregarded his claim. “A free, swift escape, basically.”

Tyunnie sprinted past him, his face set and determined, albeit the petty pinch he left at Beomgyu’s side which sent him almost tumbling. Only then did the detective realise their getaway car was in view and the convict was aiming for the driver's seat— even though they’d discussed prior to this that he’d never get to drive while Beomgyu was in the car.

He held his breath once they rounded the corner, expecting someone to be lurking around their vehicle ready to pounce.

No one was there and within seconds he was buckled into the passenger seat and they were zooming off, the two buildings shrinking in the distance. He could only hope no one had disabled the cameras they’d set up prior to the stakeout.

Beomgyu felt like he had held his breath until they were a few miles out. When the car drove down an unfamiliar street, he could breathe a little easier despite all the blaring red lights going off in his head. He was driving down a foreign road with a criminal at the wheel and all he could think of was he saved my life. 

His back itched uncomfortably. A wide spot where the bullet would’ve landed and set home made the skin feel like it was burning under his dress shirt and part of him wanted to rip it off just to make sure there wasn’t a puncture in its place.

“You’re not supposed to be driving,” he muttered through his dazed state. “We had an agreement.” 

“And, what, I’m supposed to let you drive in that state? I’m not planning to die in a messy car accident.”

Beomgyu didn’t have the energy to argue with him, though multiple comebacks danced and died at the tip of his tongue. “Where are you taking me? You know this car is police property— it’s wired, they'll find you if anything happens to me.”

“Not everything is about you, sweetheart,” the convict grinned, “though preferred.”

He noticed the way Beomgyu tensed at his words and backed himself up before the tiger would pounce. “Relax, Choi, I’m not leading you to your death. I’m not a murderer, just an innocent, hungry civilian who knows a good place.” 

The detective didn’t know if he should have laughed, ridiculed him or straight up jumped out of the moving vehicle. 

“Are you serious ? I almost died and you’re taking us to go eat?” he shrieked, weighing the chances of the car crashing if he were to yank the wheel from his sturdy hands. “We’re supposed to head back and report the incident to the captain and the department. We can’t just stop to pick up some food before— are you even listening to me?” 

“Of course, baby, who said we’re picking it up? We’re dining in,” he whistled. He made sure to emphasise on the pet names now that they weren’t coped up in a room surrounded by cameras and microphones. Somehow, seeing Beomgyu get worked up with his own two eyes was far more rewarding.

The detective was not impressed, “That’s all you got from what I said,” he huffed. “Pull over.”

“I don’t think so,” Tyunnie murmured, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “Hey, do you want to try candle making one day?” 

Beomgyu hesitated, his mind stuck on the odd question before shaking his head. “I am an armed member of the police department and I’m giving you an order.”

The latter only offered a grin, “You sure you’re armed? The only thing you’re packing is a mean punch and that would get us both into an ugly situation, don’t you think?” 

Beomgyu felt for his belt, almost imagining the familiar hefty hilt of his gun. His fingers only met smooth leather and an empty pouch, the snarky retort dying in his mouth. He was armed. He entered the room with two guns and a few hidden knives on him. Now, he was stripped down to nothing , and he was almost certain that the boy behind the wheel had something to do with it.

“How…” he gaped more to himself than anyone else. 

“Do you like chicken, or are you more of a steak person?” said boy queried nonchalantly. 

“You’re insufferable,” Beomgyu groaned, “turn the car around and take me back.” 

Tyunnie only hummed in question, a faint ‘huh?’ escaping his lips before he turned the radio up to the max. Beomgyu jumped at the sudden sound, barely able to register his own thoughts before the younger boy rolled down the four windows all the way down. The music spilled out of the car, a jarring melody making their seats vibrate as the wind whipped and whipped at their hair.

Beomgyu was struggling to get his mind in order while his long hair flowed harshly against his face. He struggled to keep it in one place, the dark strands falling over his eyes and caressing his skin. To the side, the redhead had his hair swooshing in an orderly manner. Deep red slicked back, showcasing the undercut that Beomgyu hadn’t bothered to notice before.

The boy laughed obnoxiously; loud and melodious before yelling over the music, “I told you that you should tie it!” 

The detective might’ve said something back which drowned down with the sound of the music. He couldn’t recall. 

All he could think of in that moment was the biting wind in his face and the sweet laughter blooming from the boy by his side. 

“The Spaghetti Garden,” Beomgyu muttered after they entered, “this is the good place you know?” 

“The best.”

Tyunnie must have had quite a contradicting definition of the word best , because the usage of the word barely fit in a situation like this. Beomgyu couldn’t decipher if he’d been led into a bar or a restaurant— or even a club. Worst case scenario, the place didn’t even offer any sort of food and he was really being shown to a room where he’d breathe his last bit of air. 

The outside barely looked approachable, something right out of a nineties movie. It had rudden old wood framing the door and posters of deals and offers which looked a good two decades old with how they peeled and dangled.

The inside was barely any better. The floor creaked with every step. Lights hung low and their glow was lit dim and golden. It wasn’t like other places where the place was practically glazing in bright white lights. Dainty booths were lined by the windows almost identical to the type they’d see in an old bar. The seats were a fine mahogany leather which was peeling and chipping in multiple places. Despite the ancient styling, preppy, pop songs had sounded through a small speaker by the cash register— which had no one behind it. 

“Ease up, you look like you’re seconds away from passing out,” Tyunnie joked despite the hesitant hand he pressed against his lower back. “Any other day, I’d enjoy seeing you so worked but I’m honestly starved right now.”

“You ate all of our snacks,” Beomgyu heaved, his gaze darting around warily. He felt as if there were watching eyes piercing through him in the shadows. They reached the rusty cash register with the redhead's warm hand still resting against the small of his back.

Tyunnie scoffed, “Pitiful things, honestly, barely filling— who was in charge of our food, again?”

“ I chose—“

Before Beomgyu could offer his piece, a much taller man appeared behind the counter, looming over them by a good few inches. He would’ve reached for his nonexistent gun out of pure intimidation had he not been met with a pair of deep dimples and puppy eyes framed by thick black glasses.

“Tyun, you’re back!” and a beaming voice. 

The name he’d uttered did nothing for Beomgyu— no, he’d hoped that someone would let his real name slip but it seemed that the criminal thought of it all beforehand. Tyun only seemed like the shorter version of what he was offered and he doubted that his birth name was as simple as that. On top of that, he had no family name to work with either.

The boy shifted his hand so his fingers gripped the curve of Beomgyu’s waist; less comforting and more flirty. He offered his signature sly smirk, “Table for two, please.” 

The tall black haired boy smiled dearly, “‘Course, this way, please.” 

Beomgyu didn’t shrug off the hand on his waist until they were seated. 

A small booth, light pooling in overhead by the honey glow of the lamp hanging above them. The table separating them held lively flowers, despite the shabby overall feel of the restaurant. They were bright Dahlia flowers, a bright, vibrant bouquet sitting in a glass case. Layers of hueful orange petals against the yellow seeds at the centre. Beomgyu wondered if they’d invested all their funds into flowers instead.

He eyed the redhead across from him who was lazily scanning the menu, his eyes barely lingering on anything. Beomgyu guessed he already knew what he was going to order considering the familiarity and ease with which he carried himself here. He glanced to the door they came in from— would he be able to make a run for it? 

As if the younger boy had read his mind, he muttered, “Are you going to look at the menu or will you trust your date enough to order for you?” 

“ Date ?” Beomgyu ridiculed, “I’m here against my own will.” 

“The door is unlocked, honey,” he waved his hand towards the exit, “though, it’d be quite rude to run off on the first date, no?”

The detective wasn’t going to let him tick him off so easily. He flipped open the menu, “It’s not a date.”

“So feisty,” Tyunnie tsked. He set his chipped and folded menu down and simply watched Beomgyu as he scanned through his own one. 

Caesar salad.

Chicken Flamer.

He isn’t saying anything.

Lemon Dill Pasta.

Why’re his eyes on me?

Chicken Carbonara Pasta.

Sizzling Rosemary.

Has his stare always been this intense? 

Classic Fajita.

Does this place have air conditioning? Why is it so hot? 

Grilled Salm—

“Can you—“

“Hello, welcome to The Spaghetti Garden. I’m Soobin and I’ll be your waiter,” the tall, dimpled boy from earlier cut through Beomgyu’s jittery fit. “Can I take your order?”

Tyunnie seemed to notice the effect he had on him, for his grin never dropped. “The usual, please.” 

“And for you?”

“Uh,” Beomgyu blanked, the list of dishes he’d read simply slipping away, “I’ll just have what he’s having.”

The boy— Soobin, smiled innocently and jotted things down on his little notebook. Beomgyu wondered how he knew the criminal, how someone so seemingly soft and delicate was involved with a thief and, apparently, a drug trader. Did he even know of his life or was he living blindly and serving him as a normal customer with the impression that he was innocent? 

Soobin mumbled a quick parting and left them to their own devices, disappearing behind the corner.

Which left Beomgyu, the watching flowers and the unnamed boy cooped up in a dainty booth. 

A breathy song was playing from a gleaming jukebox. The vocalist had a honey smooth voice, backed up by a simple guitar melody. It fit the rustic vibe of the place.

If Beomgyu wasn’t here with the man he claimed to hate whilst on the clock, he might’ve actually enjoyed it and indulged in a proper meal.

Alas, he wasn’t. He’d almost gotten shot at and the first thing he was tending to was a criminal's empty stomach instead of doing his job and upholding his side of the deal. Had he had his gear on him, the younger boy would be back in handcuffs with the promise of added jail time over his head.

“I’d appreciate it if you weren’t shooting daggers at me with your eyes,” said the thief.

Beomgyu huffed, defeated. “I wasn’t.” 

“Sorry, I don’t think it was with love so…” Tyunnie shrugged. “Do you think, in the future, we’d be able to grow chicken?” 

The detective squinted, narrowing his eyes on the redhead as if trying to decipher every little movement and breath. What was he doing here with him? “Why did you bring me here?”

“My body regularly digests my food,” he offered nonchalantly. Beomgyu could feel his skin prickling with distaste and uneasiness. He noticed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not planning to grab the closest butter knife and stab you in an alley? I genuinely just want to eat and you haven’t touched any of the rations we brought.” 

“You noticed that?” Beomgyu blanked, throwing it out as more of a statement towards himself rather than a question for the younger boy. He hadn’t noticed it himself, and he wasn’t actively avoiding the food they brought with them. It was just the looming presence of the criminal coped up in the same room as him that distracted him from really getting a grip on what he was supposed to be doing.

Tyunnie nodded as if it were the most noticeable thing he’d encountered. “Like you said, I ate most of the snacks— if not all.” 

Now that he mentioned it, Beomgyu did feel a little woozy. His stomach faintly ached, a gnawing feeling and it was as if the hunger had hit him all together. When was the last time he ate?

Stubborn and tired, he huffed with too little confidence, “It could have waited until after we reported back.”

“Maybe you could, but I wasn’t going to,” Tyunnie grinned, sitting back. “Have you ever thought of dyeing your hair?” 

It felt like a whiplash every time he swiftly shifted the conversation with so much ease and nonchalance. His body was always in a relaxed state and his voice; high and heavenly. “No?”

“Why not? You’d be a stunning redhead,” he frowned.

“I can’t imagine myself gaining any respect if I walked into the precinct looking like a clown,” Beomgyu grumbled, accepting defeat. He would be here whether he liked it or not, and his stomach wasn’t going to let him leave even if he didn’t. 

The criminal gasped noisily, “What are you insinuating here?” His fingers grazed the tips of his bright red hair. “I’d barely pass as a clown, are you mad?”

“I don’t know, you’re pretty close,” the detective muttered with amusing undertones. 

“You just spent the last three hours with me in the same room. Don’t tell me you were thinking of me as a clown— clowns don’t have undercuts. On second thought, what kind of clowns did you witness as a child?”

“As a child?” Beomgyu had to suppress a chuckle. “How about now? I’m looking at quite a peculiar one right now.” 

The redhead frowned, his cherry lips curling into a dainty pout. His lips are so full. “Peculiar, huh? That’s how you think of me?”

“In the worst way possible, yes.”

“How about charming? Witty? Sexy?” He added on, leaning over the table with every complementary description. The bunch of his lips dropped and he lined them into a gentle grin, his eyes glinting alongside. The table was small and it didn’t take much effort for him to lift his index finger and trail a delicate path along Beomgyu’s cheek. “Surely there’s more about me up in that pretty little head of yours.”

He should have stopped him, hauled him away and scolded him for even thinking of touching him. Beomgyu should've upped and left the moment they sat down in this damn crammed booth.

But the way the feathering, barely there touch sent shivers down his spine had rooted him in place. His mind short circuited and any possible retorts had been thrown out within seconds. He felt the graze of his finger down to his core; he fought the laborious urge to lean into the curve of his warm hand.

“Ah,” the criminal beamed, surely taking notice, “what I’d do for the chance to see.”

“You’d be looking at a lot of files and meetings if that’s what you’re into.”

He didn’t falter. “All surrounding me, I suppose?” 

It seemed like everything at this frozen moment was surrounding him. Beomgyu was bundled in a gaudy crowd and wherever he turned, a bedazzled stage held him at every angle. Drinking in his performance was achingly tempting despite the knowledge steering him elsewhere. The stage was burning down and his focus was on the man sat smack in the middle.

Beomgyu swallowed hard, suppressing everything when he felt the slender finger dust past the shell of his ear. In that moment, the younger boy gave him a once over, eyes trailing over his face and down to the curve of his lips before slumping back with his warm hand. A ghost of a touch lingered.

The detective opened his mouth— to prompt him back or to scold him, he didn’t know, but as soon as he did, a hot dish was placed right in front of him and a beaming presence stood by their table. 

“Enjoy,” Soobin nodded once with the dimples that seemed permanently imprinted on his cheeks. He set two sodas down alongside their meals and left with a skip in his step. 

Beomgyu paused. “Chicken alfredo?”

Tyunnie was already halfway through a mouthful. “You don’t like pasta?” 

“No— no, I’m just surprised…” he mumbled. Beomgyu squinted at the plate as if it were a cracked puzzle piece. He was currently dining with one of Seoul’s most notorious and wanted criminals, and his favourite meal was Chicken Alfredo ? Out of everything, he enjoyed simple italian dishes? Something so normal…

“Did you expect him to serve us a stuffed human finger or something?” said boy retaliated. “What did you think I eat?” 

“I don’t know, body parts?” Beomgyu almost shivered. 

“I’m a thief, detective, not a cannibal.” 

And when Beomgyu tasted the dish for himself, he really did understand why someone would enjoy it so much. The sauce was rich, flavourful and royally creamy, and the chicken itself could’ve been served as a main meal alone.

He didn’t know why he thought of Tyunnie as some sort of inhumane being— why it shocked him so much to see him responding to things as a normal boy would. He’d settled him on a gleaming pedestal as some sort of foreign prize he was yet to win and had barely looked into the reward itself.

And as Beomgyu glanced at him every so often, he really wondered if he was sitting adjacent to a hardened criminal when he had sauce messily coating the corners of his lips. Those same plush, pink lips he’d looked at earlier on. 

He wondered if he’d have the heart to put him behind bars when this was all over.

Beomgyu had his nose deep in the hefty files as if he were trying to memorise every curve of each letter. The name Kamal was displayed big and bold, fleeting details about the gunman’s personal life tagging along. 

After their gambling lunch together, he had forced the younger boy into the passenger seat and sped down to the police station. The redhead followed in tow, uncuffed per request and basking in the wary stares he’d gotten. A prideful smile sat permanently on his face as he looked every person in the eye, knowing he held some sort of fear over them.

Beomgyu tried not to pay him any mind. Instead he trudged towards the airy office, feet carrying him mindlessly. By then, they must have something; someone was always in charge of the live cameras and the hit was hours ago. 

They did, and it’d only taken them thirty minutes to finish up and offer the heaps of information to the detective. He spent the worse half of the last hour imprinting the names into his brain and connecting whatever he could.

“Those files aren’t going anywhere,” Yeonjun retorted. Beomgyu had noticed that the lieutenant had stopped going through his own array of papers. “You can lighten your grip— maybe your tension too?”

The detective blanked, blinking a few times before registering the crinkle in the paper under his pale fingers. He heaved a light sigh, releasing them and letting the damaged piece float delicately onto the table. “I’m sorry, today was a lot.” 

Yeonjun frowned, “I can imagine,” he paused, “what happened? We had the live footage playing and we saw a man aim and shoot. You didn’t come back for hours and Captain Jung was minutes away from sending out a team to check the site for you.” 

“I know, I know,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “He pushed me out of the way last minute then took us out to eat.”

“What?” Yeonjun’s face twisted in confusement.

“Right? Taking me to a run down restaurant to fill my stomach right after I almost took a bullet, it was so weird,” Beomgyu ridiculed, his hands twisting and flinging in exaggerated movements. “He wouldn’t let me drive and we ate at this isolated place where he knew this guy and he wouldn’t tell me anything. Who does that? I told him we needed to get back but he wouldn’t let me go anywhere until I ate everything.” 

Yeonjun gaped blankly, “He pushed you out of the way?”

“You’re still there?” Beomgyu shrieked. He really wondered if it would be appropriate to pull out his hair out of pure, unfiltered frustration. “Yes, he saw the guy aim when I got up and—“

“He saved you?” Yeonjun interrupted, still homing that heavenly dazed look. 

“Should he not have?” Now Beomgyu was just as lost.

The lieutenant hastily shook his head, leaning forward in his seat as if he were about to share the secrets of the government. He looked at him directly, “Don’t you think it’s a bit weird that he did? He could have let you get shot and have a clean escape, he wouldn’t be charged with anything. He could have reunited with them and left you behind— literally everything about you getting shot worked in his favor, yet he let you live?”

“I…” Beomgyu hadn’t thought of it that way. Frankly, he didn’t think of it at all. He was more concerned with the fact that he could have died instead of pestering on the thought of why he survived. Everything Yeonjun had mentioned made perfect sense. The criminal could have used the leverage to make a clean escape.

But he hadn’t. He threw himself onto the only chance he had of temporary freedom and crushed it. Had he not made that decision, Beomgyu would have been in a hospital bed wondering why this had happened so early on.

Why he made that decision was unknown, but, god , was Beomgyu thankful. 

He’d desperately pinned the younger boy as someone who had little to no remorse flowing inside the walls of his vessels. In Beomgyu’s head, the thief was nothing more than a heartless criminal who’d do anything for a hefty fee and a shot at pissing anyone off.

So, why was the idea beginning to slip away? 

“Maybe it’s a part of a bigger plan,” Beomgyu offered offhandedly, even though he hardly believed the idea. “We can’t let our guard down around him ever . Don’t think he’s suddenly turned a good leaf just because he pardoned me from death.” 

“I don’t know, Beomgyu. That’s pretty big,” Yeonjun shrugged. 

“Not as big as my simmering patience that I had to keep ahold of after you left,” the detective countered, “which I still can’t believe you did. I know you had nothing to do; you’re a traitor.” 

And as Yeonjun spewed out his false excuses and apologies, Beomgyu was thankful for the topic change. 

Nevertheless, his mind lingered.

“That guy wasn’t the leader.”

Beomgyu was wondering if he had imagined the gentle boy he’d encountered just earlier that day. Maybe the near death experience had rendered him mindless and his brain was grasping for any type of cloak just to put him at ease in that moment. Temporary, at most, and it was really showing now, because the humane person he’d witnessed was far from where they were now.

Tyunnie had been peering over his shoulder for the better part of an hour, offering meekly comments and jumping in with useless jesters. He often talked about the messy handwriting, stood way too close for comfort and talked about whatever was on his mind despite the severity of their case right now.

The detective didn’t know if he could entirely blame him. It wasn’t like he could just go home to rest until they jumped back in for their next move. Where even was home for him? Did he have a place to find solitude and would the captain even let him out of his sight?

Why hadn’t he tried to escape?

On multiple open occasions, a free, sparkling path had been displayed right in the palm of his hand and he’d disregarded it every time. Beomgyu knew he was slick enough to have left a room without anyone batting an eye, his hands swift enough to pick any lock. The stakeout, the drive to the restaurant, after they left the restaurant and even waiting here for Beomgyu to sift through the files. So many opportunities yet none were taken.

In every one, he eyed Beomgyu like he was the escape he desired. 

“What do you mean?” the detective huffed, not bothering to suppress the irritation from leaking out of his voice. “You haven’t even looked at any of the evidence.”

“You put me on this case because I know the inside of the drug cartel, no? The man who shot at you wasn’t the leader, more a second hand man,” he offered his first piece of useful information, “and, may I add, they do a very poor job of keeping low. It’s still an early business and the leader still isn’t experienced enough to know the work.”

Beomgyu glanced his way. Something in his voice suggested he was speaking from genuine experience. “Who are they?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. Before Beomgyu could tell him off about the terms of the deal, he waved his hands defensively and his voice raised. He hurried, “I swear, I really don’t. I’ve only recently taken part in the minor trades, so we don’t get to talk to him.”

“Great, so you’re of no use.”

When a dramatic reaction didn’t come his way, the room felt heavily off. Instead, the thief muttered, “At least I stopped you from blindly going after the wrong guy.” 

“Right, so we just arrest this,” he read over the files, searching for the name, “ Kamal , and conduct an investigation for answers.” 

The thief tilted his head to the side, scoffing, “That’s a terrible idea. If you take his second hand man, you’re basically better off waltzing into their homes and firing your guns in their bedrooms.” 

“What do you suggest then, oh great and all knowing righteous criminal?” Beomgyu squinted. 

The comment did more for his pride than what was originally intended. “Stage a trade scene. The lower guys barely know me, but they know I’m on their side. I’ll bring you and say you’re looking for some,” he paused, “ you know .”

“Drugs?” Beomgyu frowned. “Why aren’t you saying it?”

“You’re an officer and a detective, give me a break, sweetheart,” the redhead grinned before continuing. “A little bit of smart talk, maybe you can flash that charming smile, or a bit more, and they’ll eventually spill the locations we’re looking for if we deal the cards properly. From there, we can prepare a larger bust and halt the roots of the trade with one of your huge teams of burly, sweaty men.” 

Beomgyu ignored the final comment in favour of expressing his wonder. “Why did you choose this life?”

The confident facade faltered. Beomgyu noticed the way the sly glint in his eyes dimmed, the crinkle in his eye smoothing out and creases between his eyebrows growing. He’d expected some feats of praise or another jabbing remark, not this . In fact, it seemed as if he had expected anything but this question. Presumably, the way he held his stance had dropped entirely. 

Beomgyu didn’t know if he’d hit a nerve. One second ago, they were at each other’s throats trying to decipher a code. In the next, the room fell by a few degrees and a tense silence wafted through the thick air.

There he was. There was that vulnerable human boy he’d seen. He was real, not a figment of his deluded imagination. 

“I didn't choose anything,” his voice wavered. “Believe it or not, I hadn’t grown up with the childhood dream of running from cops.” 

Beomgyu barley flinched at the defensive and biting tone. He definitely hit something. 

“Then, what is it? Wouldn’t you rather live freely— graduate from college and get a proper job?” he pressed on nonetheless. He was scraping at the hardened surface of his dreaded partner and, suddenly, he yearned to learn more. “You’re young, attractive and smart enough to devise a plan, so why are you wasting your life rotting away on the streets?” 

His mouth opened then closed, a firm glare sent towards Beomgyu. “So, what, you want me to work towards justice and join the police department?”

“I don’t know— it doesn’t matter what I want,” the detective remarked exasperatedly, “it’s your life. I’m just a bump in your path, and I’m wondering why you’ve shredded it to pieces.” 

“There’s no need for you to wonder,” Tyunnie rasped. “Don’t act as if you know everything.” 

“That’s the problem, I know nothing ,” he heaved defeatedly. Being riled up this way was worse than any of the fluttery compliments. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, I don’t know why you haven’t left, I don’t know why I feel as if I owe you something— I don’t know your god forsaken name .” 

The unexpected comments had caused his fiery expression to simmer down. I don’t know why I feel as if I owe you something. Why had he mentioned that part; why had he admitted to vulnerability? 

The unnamed criminal’s eyes were wide— dazzling. Whatever defensive malice he had harboured seemed to crumble, before he began to curl in on himself. “We don’t have much time, Kamal will have reported back and they might begin transferring their facilities elsewhere.” 

Beomgyu didn't bother. The claim was a clear indication that the conversation prior to this one had ended and he wouldn’t offer anything else. Of course, he’d let his emotions get the best of him and he blurted the wrong thing at the worst time. 

Defeated, he turned back to the poorly lit desk and scribbled into his ruddy leather notebook. He jotted down the points he offered and the plan.

Working in silence, he began to miss the voice which usually filled the air.

And in the late hours of the night, the voice mumbled. “Taehyun,” softly, “Kang Taehyun.” 

Beomgyu wasn’t one to gamble on a stranger. 

They’d called it a night and he was excused to leave, storing away the stacks of papers. He’d let the case rest for now, wake up early and resume with a fresh mindset.

Except, said mindset had only locked in on one person. 

Taehyun.

He understood the nickname now. He understood when Soobin, the lanky waiter, had addressed him by Tyun. What he didn't understand was why the convict was so defensive of his name, guarding it as if it were an ancient family heirloom which would cost fortunes.

Yet he’d given it to Beomgyu.

And the detective wasn’t the type to leave things unsolved. That night, instead of sinking into the sweet comfort of his bed and drifting off after the hectic day, he switched on his laptop and began his search.

He wondered where Taehyun was staying for the night. His name felt weird on his tongue. Captain Jung told him he’d handle it. 

The police department had an elaborate search system, yet the facial recognition had come back empty. No traces of anything lead back to him. He did cover his face, after all.

He began with a simple search, Kang Taehyun. Nothing. 

It was odd. Everyone had their name logged into their system. He was supposed to be met with a page full of information— addresses, extended family, blood type, past residence. Everything that would normally be inputted.

Though, the only Kang Taehyun’s he could find were a seventy year old man and a deceased veteran.

Beomgyu squinted at the bright screen, as if his eyes alone would make the documents pop up. His back ached and his body was near collapsing from exhaustion, but curiosity and another foreign feeling was pushing him beyond either of those casualties.

He clicked backspace a few times, stopping short when an extended list of family names of Kang popped up onto his screen. He scrolled mindlessly, barely believing he’d find anything beneficial in such a lengthy list.

That was until a picture of a middle aged man who had the exact same sparkling eyes as Taehyun caught his eye. Attention piqued, Beomgyu hurriedly selected it and downloaded the hefty file, jittery electricity buzzing through his fingers and keeping him awake.

Too slow , he thought as it loaded. Once it eventually did, he quickly read through the entire document. The man had lived in Seoul for the majority of his life until he suddenly moved away to a small village with his wife and daughter. There was nothing on Taehyun, but the girl was a spitting image of him, and the mother had his rare smile. 

Beomgyu’s gaze faltered when he spotted a bold text. Cause of death.

Suicide bomber. 

All three of them had been caught at the wrong time in the wrong place. He scampered through the other two files, finding the same awful conclusion. 

Why Taehyun didn’t have any records, Beomgyu couldn’t tell, yet he still felt as if he was looking too deep and had uncovered something he shouldn’t have touched.

What had driven him to dig into a criminal who he wanted gone as soon as possible? Why did the fact that he’d saved him and hadn’t left irk him? 

2am. Beomgyu wasn’t going to linger any longer.

His heart felt unsteady, and his head hurt just a little at the side of his temple. Through it all, he wondered if, had his family lived, Taehyun would’ve lived a normal life— if he really was a simple boy striving and grasping for that sense of normalcy in a world that deprived it from him.

He shuffled into bed, barely conjuring the energy to properly settle in, before dozing off with a certain complicated redhead in mind. 

“You’re sure this is safe, Gyu?” Yeonjun frowned, his fingers drumming anxiously against the leather steering wheel. They were both waiting for Taehyun’s (it still felt weird knowing his name) signal in a car a few blocks away from the same supermarket. “I mean, you’ve never gone properly undercover before.” 

Honestly, Beomgyu told himself he was ready for this, so why were his hands clammy and his heart rapid? “Yeah, we have to trust him.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Yeonjun scoffed. “A week ago you were plotting his very death.”

“Stakes are different now.”

Yeonjun didn’t reply, eyeing him warily. He seemed to choose his words carefully, gambling the possible replies before his pondering stance was cut short. A sudden ping sounded through the speakers of the car and that was the signal.

“Guess we’ll see how it goes,” he muttered instead, nodding at Beomgyu once, “goodluck.”

His throat felt too dry to thank him.

Instead, he readjusted the scratchy collar of his turtle neck and exited the car with wobbly steps. He needed to ground himself before facing these people or else their entire guise would be thrown off. He was playing the part of a spoiled rich kid who felt the need to go rogue for the first time in his life, and maybe the genuine trembling would’ve sold his disguise.

Yet as soon as he stepped up to the three burly men, standing by Taehyun made him feel as if he was wearing his detective badge with a banner floating above his head, I’m a cop , sprawled all over it in big, bold letters. 

“This is him,” Taehyun beamed easily, clapping a hand over his shoulder and almost sending him toppling over. Beomgyu tried not to flush at the touch. “Quite the looker, right?”

A guy with a thick, blotchy neck tattoo looked him over once, then twice. He sniffled, “You looking to buy?” 

“Yes,” Beomgyu tried to mask the tremble in his voice. Taehyun was handling this much better than he was; expected, as he was the one genuinely involved in it all. “I assume he already gave you the money, yes?” 

The smaller one to the right snicked. “Yeah, your highness, we got your chunk.”

“Easy now, he’s just a curious buyer,” Taehyun warned, the playful tones masking the malice. He stepped over with Beomgyu in tow. “Now, hold up your part of the exchange.”

Beomgyu didn’t notice that one of them was a woman until she spoke up, a small brick-like piece of cocaine wrapped up and clutched between her fingers. “Go light at first,” she teased, even though she didn’t mean it.

The detective wished they were done, but Beomgyu didn’t know if Taehyun had gotten the information he wanted before he showed up. When she quite literally shoved the drug into his slender hands, he was ready to sprint out of the rundown shop and be rid of the horrid experience. 

He still had a job to do, and it seemed it would be easier to execute when the short lady turned to Taehyun with a knowing glance.

Knowing, because Beomgyu recognised it as desire. 

She slipped out a little plastic packet lined with the same substance in powdered form, bit the plush flesh of her bottom lip and trailed her hand to the back pocket of Taehyun’s pants. Slowly and deliberately, making sure to touch and grab, she dropped the pouch into the thin slit. “And a little gift for you.” 

Beomgyu watched her every move so intently he wondered if lasers would escape his eyes and burn her. He wished they did. 

He felt his throat faintly close up, his chest burning with an ugly feeling. It clawed at him and urged him to act in the very instant. He struggled to ground himself. His hands balled at his sides, while his muscles tensed at every bit of his body.

Envy? Jealousy? Disgust? Possessiveness? 

Taehyun only grinned at her actions, and Beomgyu struggled to remind himself that they were supposed to be coaxing them. His head felt light. 

“How thoughtful,” he charmed, “it’d be a shame for me to enjoy such a delight on my own, though.” 

The two men disregarded them, grumbling under their breaths as they stepped away from the scene. Beomgyu wondered if he should’ve followed them and worked on wringing out information, or if he could outright threaten the women to let it out. To let him go.

“A shame indeed.” Her chest was pressed to his.

Taehyun looked over his shoulder, looking Beomgyu right in the eye. “If only there was someone to share with; we could even shotgun.”

His heart stuttered at the thought. A dainty room, smoke wafting hazily through the air. Taehyun would drag a long inhale of the roll, hold and then lean over with his rich, hooded brown eyes. His lips would barely brush over Beomgyu’s, the faintest and lightest touch as he exhaled the hot smoke into his own. A hand on his neck, a strong stare his way. His heart squeezed at the thought— he didn’t even do drugs.

The detective didn’t know what to do with himself until Taehyun was already looking back at the older woman and was chatting her ear off with his deeper voice. His hand had cupped the curve of her small waist.

It hit him then. Shotgun was their code word; they’d agreed on it beforehand. 

Beomgyu felt like burying himself six feet under for the slip up, the prior fantasy still rolling in his mind. When Taehyun was to say that word, he was supposed to leave, a silent I got it from here . The gesture completely flew over his head and he was already stumbling over his feet in an attempt to evade the scene.

Not before he caught a knowing smile playing at the criminals lips. He somehow knew. 

And when Yeonjun questioned the redness in his face, he refused to speak.

Just two days later, Beomgyu was certain he was fully immersed in his worst nightmare. 

They had everything they needed; foreign location, names and how many people were involved. They could’ve practically left the night they found the last bit of information, yet the captain halted the procedure.

There weren’t enough resources for the job on such a short notice, and it was slowing down everything. They’d never found themselves in such a situation, and it was tediously aggravating. They racked up the best cops for the job, the proper weapons and tried to rally up the cars but it all fell short. 

So, Beomgyu was forced to endure two long days of waiting. 

Waiting, with Taehyun lingering by his side.

Beomgyu didn’t know where they sent him at night, but he always came back the next day and his presence was quite literally a flaming ball of fire. After the run in with the traders, Beomgyu knew the air had shifted between them and he did his best to avoid it completely. He ducked away from conversation openings and darted out of rooms where they’d be alone.

Because he didn’t know if he’d be able to face him without heaving out everything he was thinking. The worst part was, he didn’t want to feel that way. Taehyun took pride in his unfaltering image as a hardened criminal. His only aim was the gleaming prize at the end, so why did Beomgyu think otherwise? Why, through the smallest, barely noticeable cracks, did he see something so much more?

He shouldn’t have felt that way. Taehyun was a bad person. He was a terrible individual to Beomgyu. 

So, why did he still feel the bleary tug?

“For such a highly functional precinct, you guys sure are slow,” Taehyun scoffed as he stepped to Beomgyu’s side, wringing his pale, slender fingers together. He hadn’t heard him walk up to him.“We could’ve been in and out already, maybe even celebrating.”

He’d come to the roof for a breath of fresh air, but Taehyun’s presence somehow did more. 

Beomgyu barely looked at him, his courage falling short. “It’s the first time this has happened.”

“Not prepared for everything, huh?” His tone suggested something else. Beomgyu knew what it was without pondering.

Still, he avoided it. “We’ll be ready tomorrow night.”

Taehyun hummed, falling silent beside him. 

But Beomgyu’s mind was thrumming and alive, aching to let go of a million different things. It seemed as if sparks were going off and his timer was nearing zero. His entire world had shifted so quickly, and adjusting to such a drastic change wasn’t something he was used to. Nor was the constant drumming of his heart against his chest. 

“Tell me about your sister,” he spoke softly, afraid of cutting through the wrong wire of a ticking bomb.

He made a deadly close call. “How did you know I had one?” Taehyun gaped, his head snapping over to stare the detective down with his heavenly eyes. Defense swirled in his eyes, crawling back into the hidden burrow that he locked himself into. He squinted, “You looked up my background.”

“Not with the intention of using it against you,” Beomgyu promised solemnly.

Instead of throwing daggers of accusations and grilling him down for what he’d done, Taehyun shrugged. “She was just a normal girl. Older than me, thicker hair.” 

Beomgyu frowned, “That’s it?” 

“There isn’t much to say,” Taehyun muttered, “she’s dead, they all are,” He stared him straight in the eye, “but you knew that.” 

The detective dropped his head shamefully. He’d asked with the intention of gaining a little more of Taehyun’s trust. He hoped he would open up and gush over the delicate features of his big sister, spill how he felt about their death and how he coped after. Instead, he disregarded it as if he were simply stating his favourite colour, and it confused Beomgyu entirely.

“Do you miss her?” he paused wearily, “Do you miss them?”

Taehyun pursed his lips. “They were dreamers. It was hard to keep up as a realist,” he sighed, “realists keep dreamers from soaring too close to the sun, while, without dreamers, realists would never leave the ground. They just hit the sun too soon.” 

Beomgyu waited for him to continue, but nothing came. 

“I couldn’t find any of your files.” It was a touchy topic, but he just kept treading through.

“My father had involved himself in some sketchy business and moved far away from the city to a little farmland where he and my mother had me,” Taehyun recited as if the story were nothing. “The government hadn’t tracked my birth since she had me there. He insisted we weren’t to go to any hospital that day.”

“Years later, the men had caught up to him, letting him bask in a good life before snatching it away. They lured him, my mother and sister out to a luxury dinner with embroidered invitations. I didn’t get one because they didn’t know I existed,” he stopped, his voice catching in his throat. There was the window to his emotions. “The police branded it as a suicide bomber instead of a genuine hate crime just to calm down the public.” 

Beomgyu let out a shaky exhale, feeling the ache deep within him. “I’m sorry.” 

“I hate the idea of dragging an anchor from my past into the lights of my future,” Taehyun huffed, rubbing at the corner of his eye. His sleeve came back damp. “There was no burial. Their bodies were never found.” 

Even without speaking the rest, Beomgyu knew that was the beginning of his new life. The single event that shifted the trajectory and prompted a series of unfortunate events. He didn’t choose for his parents to die, for him to be stranded alone. 

“Everyone has their sob story, what’s the point in sharing?” the boy grumbled, clearly done with the topic.

Beomgyu was willing to coax him away from it. “Why do you ask me weird questions?”

That seemed to pique his interest more readily. “What do you mean?”

“At the stakeout site, you asked me if I wanted sand. In the car, you asked if I wanted to go candle making and in the restaurant you asked if we could grow chicken,” he ticked off from memory. “Are you genuinely weirdly curious about these in the worst times or do you have a thing for pushing me to my limit?” 

In the dim light, he surprisingly saw Taehyun’s blush a pretty pink colour. “I read somewhere that confusion distracts distress and improves some moods.”

Beomgyu had his comeback ready, he really did. He was going to throw it once the younger boy offered his opening, and he would have if it were something other than this. 

Because Taehyun wasn’t making fun of him all those times. He wasn’t aiming to anger him or play useless games to pass his time. Beomgyu was being eaten up by fear at each instant, and he had noticed. He himself hadn’t even taken into account how each question had distracted him from his terror until the reveal. 

When he almost got shot in the spine, instead of focusing on the possibility and staying paralyzed in place, he was crazing over the peculiar request for sand. As they raced in the car and he worried for his safety, his mind lingered on candles.  

He didn’t want to taunt him. He was trying to ease his storm.

“Oh,” Beomgyu exhaled, and he’d never wanted to kiss someone so bad. 

But he couldn’t be thinking that way for someone he despised more than anything a month ago. The entire premise was a terrible puzzle that his mind was struggling to solve. 

“What will you do once this is over?” Beomgyu wondered hopelessly. “Will you take the offer of freedom?”

“Beomgyu, you know I can’t,” he murmured solemnly. “My life is built around the persona I’ve created. I don't have a place in a world that digitally doesn’t have anything on me. There’s nothing for me— no pleasure in freedom.” 

The detective faltered, “We could fix that. It would be a really long process but—“

“We?” Taehyun interrupted him, squinting his eyes. The small sliver of innocence and vulnerability had slithered back into the crooks of its cave and the wall had come back up. “After this, there isn’t any we. You’re a member of the law, you’d be obliged to put me behind bars.” 

“Not if I didn’t have a reason to,” he reached, “not if you changed.” 

Taehyun shuffled back warily. His stance had shifted almost entirely and everything was wrong. “What is your obsession with keeping my record clean? You were pretty eager to put me down at the start.” 

Frustration was steadily but readily growing. “I can't just let you throw away your only chance at freedom.” 

“I have my own means of freedom with or without your say in it,” Taehyun countered. “You have no reason to fight for it.”

And, as if the atom bomb had finally locked in, Beomgyu couldn’t hold back. 

“You can’t tell me that,” he seethed, “you have no fucking right to tell me that after I spent hours trying to tell myself that you are the worst person to exist— after I tortured myself with the thought of every single one of your flaws and crimes. You don’t get to tell me I don’t have a reason when, even though I want to believe that you aren’t worth it, every single bit of you screams for my attention… that the knowledge that you aren’t inherently evil eats at me constantly, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise.” 

Taehyun fell silent. His lips were parted, breath uneven as he studied Beomgyu thoroughly. He seemed to be picking apart every single word, analysing each letter and putting them up for inspection. 

He opened his mouth, to accept him or to tell him off, Beomgyu didn’t know. He shut it right after, his face set as he grumbled, “I’m going to the site.” 

“You can’t go alone,” Beomgyu scrambled after him, his mind still lost after the heavy conversation. He reached for the curve of his wrist, clasping it between his fingers and halting his movement.

Taehyun looked back at him, eyes unwavering. “I started my life alone. I’m sure I can handle this much on my own.” 

A tug at his wrist, and Beomgyu limply let go. He watched him track back through the door, shutting it and leaving the lingering thought of his presence in the room. He left him baffled, unsure of what to do and partly hurt at what he had done. 

Fine, Beomgyu thought, ignoring the ache in his chest. He wants to be alone, so be it. 

But, Beomgyu couldn’t leave it. Two hours later, and no signal from either Taehyun or the still-packed and buzzing precinct. He hated the worry that refused to settle in his stomach. He tried to will it away and told himself it wasn’t worth the trouble, but it still gnawed at him restlessly and begged for attention— begged for an action. 

It was going against everything Beomgyu had worked for. Evading protocol, risking everything for a supposed rusted criminal. He tried not to think much about it as he filled his holster with his guns, gearing his upper body with the needed equipment. The voice in the corner of his head tried to reason with him, tried to stop him and tell him it was a terrible idea to go after someone who barely deserved it. 

But as Beomgyu clipped himself into the car and sped down the street, he blocked it out. There wasn’t any reason to strip someone of a second chance when their first had slipped between their fingers.

He followed the GPS beeping obnoxiously, determination settling and making home in his body. It might’ve been reasonable to bring Yeonjun, maybe even begged Captain Jung to accompany him, but this was his personal matter and they would’ve tried to convince him to wait. This was his person.

Another hour could cost him his life if he really was in danger.

Beomgyu wanted to yell. Why had he gone alone— why did he let him go alone? 

His hand tightened against the wheel. Why did he insist on being alone? Beomgyu was willing to give him it all. 

He pulled around to a dim warehouse, parking the car right around the corner and out of view. There wasn’t any activity buzzing around the building, nor were there any signs of life at all. Had he been led to the wrong place? 

Hastily, he worked the gun in his hand and stepped around the back, working and assessing every possible entrance and exit. His mind flurried with red signs and go signals, part of it easing him to find the boy while the other coaxed him to fall back and wait for the team.

His heart spoke louder than his mind. 

Still, he was cautious. He tracked the area slowly, holding his breath whenever he turned a corner.

Oddly enough, the building was downright deserted. The air was silent and not a sign of life had made a show to his surprise. Beomgyu wasn’t going to let his guard down, but the eeriness worried him more than eased him. 

He stepped through a thin hall, the floorboards croaking beneath his feet with every step. The whole thing seemed to be standing on poor wood. 

It opened into a large hall room, tables lined with small stacks of drugs, discarded and seemingly left behind. Empty boxes which seemed to have been wrenched open were scattered amongst them and the floor. In the silence, he could hear a faint constant drip of some sort of water source.

Throat dry, he croaked into the room, “Taehyun?” He hated how his voice wavered on the name as if it had some sort of physical affect on him.

Nothing. Beomgyu felt his blood run cold.

His gun stayed up and aimed in front of him, his hands itching to pull the trigger just to bring the room to life. 

Just when he thought he was truly alone, a flurry of movement husted behind him from down the hall. He set into stance before he had even seen the figure pass, his feet dragging him after them without a second thought. In his line of sight, the hasty person moved too fast and turned too many corners for him to get a clear shot, and he worried someone else would pop up if he’d given such a clear signal.

Down another hall, round another corner, through another door. The place was a labyrinth given how dainty it looked from the outside.

Beomgyu huffed as he lost him again, whipping his head over his shoulder to fully take in his surroundings. He gambled his choices, and it all fell short when his eyes locked onto a specific door. 

Because, right before it, was a discarded gun. 

He tiptoed to the closed door, slowly picking up the weapon with almost trembling fingers as he read the initials K.T embroidered on the outside of the barrel. He couldn’t remember any times he’d watched the redhead handle a gun, yet he had one with his initials etched into the metal?

With a startle, his head shot up to the door. He hesitated before juggling the knob, his heart skipping when it didn’t give. 

“Taehyun?” he whispered in a hurried tone, trying against the door again. He pushed forth with his shoulder, a dull ache blooming when it didn’t open. “Are you in there? I’m here— can you open the door from the inside?” 

When he was met with unrelenting silence, the only thing he could hear seemed to sound like bombs going off.

Click, click, click. 

That wasn’t there before. 

He’d worked more than enough cases in his time to recognise the dull ticking. He worried his metaphor had been taken literally.

Beomgyu’s heart rate spiked. He assumed they must have rigged a wiring in the handle so that a bomb would be set off once he tried against it. That, and it was still locked. Taehyun was still in there, either knocked out or worse. 

Beomgyu cursed under his breath, his vision turning bleary at the revelation. He tried kicking at it, painfully aware of the jarring clicking that was edging him on. Frustration crawled under his skin and nabbed at his nerves, gripping the controls and forcing him to endure another kick, a push.

It wasn’t going to budge, and his mind was blurring with desperation.

He could barely decipher the hurried footsteps crawling his way, before a flash and a thunderous roar rained down.

“Taehyun,” Beomgyu whimpered, his ears ringing from his place on the floor where the impact had pushed him back. His senses were all jumbled and all he saw was red, red, red. A burst of fire licked and devoured the wooden frames, the room already completely engulfed and falling in on itself. “My Taehyun.”

Had a hand not gripped the back of his shirt and dragged him out of his dazed state, he was almost certain he would have run into the welcoming flames.

He squinted against the smoke, soot covering the walls and providing a path for the orange twirls to grow. He tried to decipher a body, a figure, anything amidst the flames, but his vision was clouded by wetness and wafts of black, heavy smoke. 

Before he could even fully process the situation, he was outside, red and blue lights flashing against his face and grounding him out of his dazed state. In the back, the building groaned as it began to give out.

“He’s in there,” he mumbled at whoever had a tight grip on his shoulder which still ached from impact. “I— I have to go back; he’s inside.”

“You are not running into a burning building.” Yeonjun. “You’re bruised as it is, bleeding even. If you haven’t noticed, your body is also home to a few burns. I can't let you go back.”

Beomgyu pushed against his grip, his feet digging into the soil. “You don’t understand, he isn’t bad,” he pleaded frantically, “he doesn’t deserve to have his choices taken from him.” 

“Beomgyu, you’re not making much sense, you need to sit down,” the lieutenant worried, coaxing him away from the bright red and closer to the cold blue. 

“There was someone else in there,” he blanked, “he probably had something to do with it.”

Yeonjun stepped in front of him, halting them both. “Get a hold of yourself. We sent in officer Huening, you probably saw him while you were inside.” 

Beomgyu faintly recognised the name. He was a tall, lanky one that had called him to the meeting which had started this. 

He was the one he left at Taehyun’s hold. He was gone when Beomgyu returned and found the criminal out of his handcuffs. 

“What’s his full name?” 

Yeonjun squinted at him, “Why does that matter? Did you hit your head?” When Beomgyu didn’t answer, he sighed, “Officer Kai Kamal Huening.”

Kamal.

As if the gears were oiled up and working, Beomgyu seethed, “Which one is he?”

As he directed at the person and opened his mouth to object, Beomgyu was already on his feet again and stomping towards the tall brunette. He didn’t know what conclusion he was planning to come to; was he on their side or the opposite? It didn’t matter, because it seemed that, either way, he had some sort of connection to the boy he was after. 

“Where is he?” Beomgyu called, backing him up against the car hood. He had his hand resting reassuringly on the hilt of his gun and pondered on whipping it out. 

The boy looked younger than him by a few years, yet his eyes lacked that youthful glow. He eyed Beomgyu, looking him over once, twice, never faltering. Apparently being held almost at gunpoint didn’t faze him as much as he’d anticipated. 

Easily, he smiled, and looked over Beomgyu’s shoulder.

Beomgyu followed his line of vision, the dwindling ambition beginning to relight as he scanned for the redhead. No one in the sea of red and blue lights who homed the familiar style, and his patience and hope were both wearing thin.

Instead, he locked in on the very person the officer was eyeing. A blonde. 

And when he turned, just the slightest bit, Beomgyu recognised the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips in an instant. 

A shuddering breath of relief and he was on his feet again, almost tripping from lack of adrenaline as he carried himself weakly. Instead of a gleaming acknowledgement and a pat on the back, Beomgyu had quite literally collapsed onto Taehyun, almost sending both of them toppling over.

His arms looped around his neck, hands finding a tight grip on the loose shirt he was wearing. He let out a shaky exhale. His fists bunched at the back of his shirt, squeezing him close as he shut his eyes. He couldn’t stop the tears from spilling over, but when he felt the hot flow drip off his chin he almost yelled. The relief was incredibly overwhelming. How could he have said he almost lost him?

Taehyun, ridden of speech, had simply wrapped his arms around Beomgyu’s waist, holding him just as close as if the older would simply slip through the gaps between his fingers.

“You reckless idiot, oh, my god,” Beomgyu cried, the warmth pooling into his stomach.

“Not such nice words for someone you seemed to have missed,” Taehyun laughed and Beomgyu felt it against his chest.

“God— I thought…” Beomgyu trailed off, shuffling back just so he could see his face and make sure he was real . He cupped his cheeks delicately, as if his shaking hands would shatter the skin on his face. His voice trembled with his words as the alternate possibilities raced through his mind. 

But, those didn't matter, did they? All that did was now. Now, he was still alive; now, he still had love to give and a life to live; now, he still had him. 

There was no place for pondering on what would have happened when it hadn't. In another universe, the outcome may have been different, but here and now , he still had him. 

“Hey, I’m here,” Taehyun spoke gently, albeit the amusement, his dreamy voice crumbling the heaps of worry. He placed his hand against Beomgyu’s where it was resting on his cheek, curling his fingers around it. “You didn’t think I’d go in blindly, did you?” 

“Of course, I did— what was I supposed to think?” Beomgyu shrieked. “You suddenly disappear for hours without any feedback after we talked and I’m supposed to think you’ve got it under control? And your hair has completely changed, when did you even have the time? Did you really think that changing your hair colour would shield you? You mindless, idiotic, sensless—“

And as Beomgyu opened his mouth to spew more daunting, meaningless jabs, Taehyun leaned over and kissed him. 

In that moment, Beomgyu’s mind emptied and he no longer lingered on what had happened beforehand or what might happen next. The only thought was the press of Taehyun’s plush lips, the warmth of his body and the feel of his hands. It’d happened almost as quickly as the explosion, cascading into a million different feelings right after. Beomgyu curled his finger to cup the back of his neck and draw him in closer, lips melting against each other.

Slowly, inevitably, they pulled away. Beomgyu wanted it to last forever.

“Attractive, daring, cunning,” Taehyun grinned, finishing him off when the older boy was rendered speechless. He knocked the tip of his nose against Beomgyu’s, a sparkling glint flashing over his eyes. “Hueningkai got me out.”

“At the precinct or here?” Beomgyu mumbled through his stunned feelings. 

“Both, he’s kind of my second hand man. He told the leader you were planning an ambush a few days back so they barely had time to pack up and leave. They left behind most of their good stuff.” Taehyun admitted. “He slowed you all down by raiding most of the weaponry to give them the chance to flee to their next safe spot, which he gave to Captain Jung. He provided me the necessary information from both sides. He’s a very slick guy.” 

Beomgyu glanced from the corner of his eye at the tall boy currently squeezing at Yeonjun’s cheeks. “Doesn’t look it.”

“People can surprise you,” Taehyun beamed, keeping his own eyes on Beomgyu. 

“Wait,” Beomgyu pushed back the slightest bit, “if you had him the entire time, why did we go undercover to find the location? Why did you let that woman feel you?” 

“Jealousy is a lovely look on you, by the way,” Taehyun grinned that familiar sly smile. He pondered though, “It would be a bit suspicious if I disclosed everything at once to the captain. He knew I was of the lowest rank.” He faintly touched Beomgyu’s temple, pushing back the flowing strands of hair which had escaped from the hair tie. “You’re bleeding.”

Beomgyu frowned, expecting a comment on the ponytail he’d worked on or a continuation to the complex information. He hadn’t even bothered to check his own injuries, and it all came tumbling down at once. The exhaustion settled in after the adrenaline died down completely, and his head ached a terrible pound. He wondered if he had dislocated his shoulder with how it burned.

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” Taehyun slowly spoke, the glow in his eyes never faltering. Beomgyu never noticed the way his gaze softened so fully and a permanent smile seemed to have been worked into his lips. He kept a hand around the curve of his waist, hoisting his weight against his own body and pulling him over to everyone else where a few medics were pooled around other officers. 

When Beomgyu had settled in and a doctor was tending to the ugly gnash on the side of his head, he muttered tiredly, “I never kiss on the second date, so you owe me a lot more.”

“So the restaurant was a date,” Taehyun heaved, “you had a lot of nerve trying to run into a burning building.” 

“You saw?” Beomgyu gasped.

Suddenly, a pink blush dusted his rosy cheeks. “You made quite a scene… for me.”

“I had the choice,” the detective slowed, fighting the tiredness tugging at his eyes, “and I’d do it again.”

Taehyun sat silently, the clockworks of his brain turning and grinding. His face set in a knowing glance, and he placed one of his slender hands on top of Beomgyu’s own. “Rest for now.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. But before he fully gave in to the exhaustion, he needed to know. “You’ll stay?” You’ll let us work this out together? 

“Yeah,” I would have left at the start if I wanted to. “Of course.”

And as Beomgyu faded into a sleepy haze, the sight of one of Seoul’s most hardened criminals looking at him with such genuine innocence had put him at ease. 

He wouldn’t be alone anymore, and he’d have the choice to live.