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Restlessly tapping his foot on the floor as he leans against the wall, Luke reaches into his pocket before pulling out his phone to check the time — half past seven. Zander should've come out thirty minutes ago. The blinds to his office were drawn, so Luke had just assumed that the boy was handling something important, perhaps even confidential. But now…
Now he was starting to get the slightest bit concerned.
Pushing himself off of the wall with a gentle shove, he begins to make his way up to the door. Knocking exactly three times, he calls out, “Zander?”
No response.
“Zander?” He repeats, subconsciously fidgeting with the juice box in his hand, “Are you alright in there?”
His questions are met with more silence, and for some reason, he finds himself fearing the worst. Though, the logical side of his head tells him how ridiculous those thoughts are. Shoving them aside, he pushes down on the door handle before making his way inside, careful not to make a sound in case he was disrupting something.
But instead of the clicking of a keyboard or the shuffling of files, Luke is met with dead silence, save for the faint sounds of steady breathing, of course. Luke blinks at the sight — Zander slumped over on the top of the desk, papers strewn about and documents piled up in a disorderly fashion.
Setting the juice box down and letting out a sigh, Luke kneels down to collect the sheets that had gone astray, brushing off anything that blemished the pure white surfaces. However, just as he folds the boy's laptop shut, Zander stirs.
“Luke…?” he lifts his head, eyes bleary as he buried his face in his palms. “What… time is it?’
“About a quarter to eight,” Luke responds, not tampering with any of the documents but still trying to organize them the best he can. “You fell asleep, I'll help you pack up.”
Moving to grab the other's briefcase, Luke takes a deep breath, before letting it out in a lengthy exhale. Ever since he made up that stupid lie framing himself as the next target, Zander's been overworking himself even more so than ever. It had slipped out in a moment of desperation — he knew the other was onto him, that it was foolish to have thought that he could cover up his wrongdoings from the person who knew him better than anyone else. So, when the boy accidentally discovered his wounds that night, he had no choice but to come up with the most plausible lie he could think of.
Meanwhile, Zander's gaze drifts from the grape juice box before him to the boy he cared for oh, so dearly. A sense of helplessness bubbles up within his stomach as he lets out a frustrated sigh.
“I'm a horrible detective, Luke.”
Luke stiffens at this, whipping his head to face the other as he attempts to process what he'd just said. “What…?”
Zander runs a hand through his disheveled hair, face clouded with doubt. Leaning back into his swivel chair, he directs his gaze towards the ceiling, as if the answer he was looking for was hidden right there. “I've been chasing this case for months,” he allows his eyes to flutter shut, “but each and every time I think I'm close, I just reach another dead end.”
Luke stares, guilt nearly suffocating him; this wasn't meant to happen — the lie was supposed to throw the other off his trail, to buy him time before the inevitable came crashing down on him, not this. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out — his heart feels as heavy as the briefcase he held.
“I should've passed the case down, handed it off like the higher-ups told me.” Zander lets out a forced huff, shaking his head as he purses his lips, “But I didn't, all because I wanted to prove my capabilities to people who couldn't even care less.”
Every word that slips past the other's lips are like a jab to Luke's heart, and the fact that he was responsible for all of this tore him apart.
“Zander, this isn't your fault — you had no idea this case would escalate the way it did.” Luke mutters, making his way up to the boy before setting the briefcase down atop the desk.
“People are dying because I can't solve this case, Luke!” Zander digs his fingers into his hair, tears burning at his eyes, “Maybe they're right, maybe I wasn't cut out for this job, after all.”
“...Hey, it doesn't matter what people think, alright?” he kneels down in front of the boy before delicately prying his arms off of his head. “You're trying your best, and if the others can't appreciate that, then…”
Zander's eyes eventually drift to meet Luke's, and he lets out a shaky exhale, “I just… don't think I can stand watching another person have their life taken away, Luke.” His gaze then wanders to the corkboard where all sorts of pins, pictures and threads of red were strewn, “If what you told me was true, and that really was an assassination attempt, then they're not going to back down… not until you're gone.”
Luke feels a lump form in his throat and, for a brief moment, he wants to scream, to confess the truth right then and there, to take the burden off of Zander's shoulders. But he can't.
“I'm terrified of losing you, Luke.” The sentence comes out as more of a whisper than anything, as if it were meant for no one to hear but him.
“You won't,” Luke reassures under his breath, “I promise. You'll find the person responsible.” He gets to his feet once more, his tone encouraging, “You're the best detective I know, Zander. If anyone can solve this case, it's you.”
Zander lets out a huff, though it's rather strained, “More like the only detective you know.”
“My point still stands,” he makes his way up to the coat hanger right beside the doorway, retrieving the other's blazer. “Now, let's get you home. I'm sure your bed is much more comfortable than your office desk.”
The lighthearted joke manages to make Zander chuckle, even if only slightly. “You're right,” he responds, arising from his seat before beginning to pack up. Deep down, however, he doesn't have the heart to tell Luke about the nightmares he's been having since he took up the case, or that he hasn't had a proper night's rest in weeks. But he figures that the other has caught on at least, and just decided not to bring it up.
So, as the two leave the office together, falling into step as they always do, the weight of the world weighs down on their shoulders, albeit for different reasons.