Matthew entered Masahiro’s room, carrying a tray of food with deliberate care. He placed it on the nightstand, his gaze flickering to Masahiro, who was lounging in his chair, staring blankly out the window.
“Dinner’s here,” Matthew said, trying to keep his tone neutral.
Masahiro didn’t even glance at him. “I’m not eating that,” he muttered.
Matthew blinked, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean? It’s what you asked for.”
“I don’t want it.” Masahiro’s voice was clipped, dismissive.
Matthew’s patience was already running thin. “You need to eat,” he said firmly. “The doctor said—”
Masahiro cut him off with a sharp laugh, humorless and bitter. “I don’t care what the doctor said. I’m tired of being treated like some invalid. I’m not helpless, Smith.”
The words struck a nerve. Matthew folded his arms, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think I want to be here, catering to you?” he shot ba
Matthew lounged on the couch in the living room, the flickering glow of the television illuminating his face as he scrolled through channels mindlessly.The sound of Masahiro´s door´s room creaking open drew his attention. Masahiro stepped out of his bedroom, and despite the cast encasing his right arm, he looked stunning. He wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist, the fabric hugging his toned physique perfectly. The dark shirt was paired with dark blue slim-fit jeans that showcased his long legs and made him look effortlessly stylish. His black boots added an edge to the outfit, while a minimalist silver watch on his left wrist gleamed subtly against his skin. The overall effect was striking; he exuded an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore.Matthew raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Where do you think you’re going?”Masahiro paused, casting a glance over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “That’s n
Matthew stood frozen in place, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared down at Masahiro’s crumpled form. The man who always had his cool, who could outsmart and outmaneuver anyone, was now lying motionless, unconscious on the floor. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in frantic chaos.´What the hell am I doing? ´His stomach churned as he tried to suppress the rising tide of panic, but it surged anyway. Every time he tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than a drunken stumble, his eyes betrayed him… Masahiro’s pallor, his stillness, the way he hadn’t even made a sound when he collapsed, rattled him.´Focus, ´ Matthew ordered himself, gripping Masahiro’s body and lifting him up, adrenaline surging through him, making the task seem easier than it should have been. It was a strange contrast, the sharpness in his limbs despite the dizziness threatening to overpower him.
Yumi pushed open the bedroom door and immediately went to Masahiro’s side. Matthew watched her with a quiet unease as she knelt down beside him, her eyes scanning his body with practiced precision.There was a tenderness in the way she touched him… checking his pulse, brushing his hair away from his face. Her hands moved with an efficiency and familiarity that Matthew could not ignore.“Is he...?” Matthew started, his voice almost a whisper.Yumi didn’t look at him as she worked. She didn’t need to. She knew what she was doing.“He’ll be fine,” she replied curtly, but her gaze lingered on Masahiro’s face, and there was something more there… something that Matthew couldn’t quite place. Was it concern? Or something deeper?She finally turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you here?”Matthew blinked, thrown off by the directness of the question. “I
Masahiro blinked awake, his vision hazy and unfocused. A dull ache pulsed through his body, especially his side where the gunshot wound still lingered. His surroundings slowly came into view, and the first thing he saw was Matthew, sitting beside the bed, arms crossed, staring at him with his usual mix of irritation and worry. But then, as his eyes adjusted more, Masahiro noticed a second figure… a familiar one. Standing just behind Matthew, with wide, worried eyes, was his cousin Yumi. "Yumi…?" he croaked, his throat dry and raspy. He felt sluggish, like he’d been run over by a freight train. Before he could say anything more, Yumi sprang forward, throwing her arms around him with such force that he winced. "Masahiro! You idiot!" she exclaimed; her voice high-pitched with panic. "Why didn’t you tell me you got shot?! Are you crazy?! I’ve been working all day and I get a call saying you’ve passed out in your apartment?!" Her words hit him in a rap
The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the blinds as Matthew made his way to Masahiro’s room, the routine already becoming familiar. He didn’t bother knocking this time, simply opened the door and entered."Time for your meds—"His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on Masahiro, sprawled on the bed with the sheets tangled around his legs. His face was twisted in concentration, and there was no mistaking what he was trying to do.For a moment, neither of them moved. Masahiro froze, his face flushing in both anger and embarrassment as he struggled to pull his hand away. But with one arm in a cast, he was clearly having difficulty.“What the hell, Smith?” Masahiro snapped, his voice echoing with a mix of shame and fury. He glanced down, humiliated, and tried to pull himself together, frantically covering himself with a pillow.Matthew smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Hey, you could’ve ask
The apartment was quiet except for the sound of Matthew returning from the market, the soft rustling of bags as he set them down on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the clock—late afternoon already. It had been a few days since Masahiro’s injury, and although things had returned to a fragile sense of normalcy, there was still an unspoken tension in the air. That strange, unnamable thing that now seemed to hang between them after their last encounter.Matthew sighed, grabbing the bottle of pills from the counter and filling a glass of water. It was time for Masahiro’s medication again, a task he had taken on without much fuss, but with a growing sense of awkwardness. The last time he’d walked into Masahiro’s room, things had taken an unexpected turn, and though neither of them had spoken about it since, the weight of that moment still lingered.He walked down the hall, knocking briefly before pushing open the door."Time for your meds," he said, his voice carry
The office of the police station was dimly lit, with papers and photographs scattered across the desk. Lewis leaned over a large map pinned to a corkboard while Matthew sat back in a chair, the tattoo map from Ridley’s back spread out in his hands.“Something’s not adding up,” Lewis muttered, squinting at the intricate details of the tattoo.“What do you mean?”Lewis tapped the edge of the map. “Look at this… this doesn’t match the area around Spiced Cherry at all.”Matthew was speechless, just staring at the map in front of him.Lewis grabbed a marker, circling a few points on the official map. “The coordinates we pulled don’t line up with the ghost brothel’s location. The Spiced Cherry and Ridley’s map lead to completely different places.” Matthew frowned, leaning forward. His fingers traced the inked lines on the image of Ridley’s
The next morning, the memory of Matthew’s indifference clung to Masahiro like a weight, sour and unresolved. He tried to drown it out by burying himself in paperwork, but every time the door creaked, or footsteps echoed in the hall, he stiffened, half-expecting Matthew to appear again.Sure enough, the door creaked open, and Matthew stepped inside, carrying a first-aid kit. He didn’t ask for permission or exchange pleasantries… just strode over to the bed and sat down, casually nodding for Masahiro to join him."Time to change the bandages," Matthew said, his voice even, flipping open the kit without looking up.Masahiro’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His injured arm still needed attention, and as much as he hated it, Matthew was the one who had been helping him with the dressings. Without a word, Masahiro sat down beside him, feeling the tension thickening the air.Matthew started unwrapping the bandage, his fingers brushing against Masahiro’s skin. The contact sent an uncomfor
Matthew had just finished his shower when his phone buzzed from the bedside table. He grabbed it, still wrapped in a towel, and saw a message from Masahiro.Masahiro: Hey babe, I'll be a bit late, coming at 11 pm.Matthew smiled, his heart fluttering at the familiar tone. He quickly typed back.Matthew: Alrighty, clingy detective. I'll head home and wait for you.He hit send, tossing the phone aside. A warm feeling spread over him as he moved to get dressed. It was just another night with Masahiro, one of their many quiet, intimate evenings.Matthew smiled to himself as he slipped into his sweater, the fabric warm against his skin. He couldn’t help but think of Masahiro… his strong, reassuring presence, the way his eyes always seemed to soften when they locked onto each other. Tonight, they’d unwind together after their busy days. Just the two of them, like always.Before he finished getting dressed, Matthew grabbed his ph
Nathaniel stepped into Masahiro's apartment, the familiar scent of cedarwood and sandalwood filling the air, grounding him in the cold precision of the task at hand. The dim light from the living room cast long shadows that seemed to stretch and pulse with each beat of his heart, adding to the ambiance of deliberate quiet that surrounded him. His eyes, however, weren’t drawn to the sterile décor or the quiet beauty of the space. They went immediately to the bedroom… where the plan would unfold.As Nathaniel crossed the threshold into the room, a strange mix of urgency and anticipation gnawed at him. It wasn’t just about the job; there was something more primal at play. Power. Control. Watching everything unfold under his command.He approached the bed with measured steps, kneeling beside Masahiro. The man’s body was limp, vulnerable, the deep slumber induced by the drug still keeping him unaware of his surroundings. Nathaniel, however, w
Nathaniel stood by the window, his back against the cool glass, watching the crowd outside with a cold, calculating gaze. The club was alive with movement, the energy thick with laughter and music, but he was focused… he always was.His fingers toyed with the edge of his phone, flipping it over in his hand, the familiar weight of it grounding him.Across the club, the front door swung open. Nathaniel’s eyes immediately locked onto the figure that entered… the unmistakable posture of Masahiro. The man was confident, like he owned the world, but Nathaniel saw through it. He had a habit of doing that.He adjusted his coat, the fabric brushing against the cold, hard steel tucked discreetly under his arm. His eyes followed Masahiro, moving with purpose but never rushing, savoring the moment. As the bartender approached Masahiro, Nathaniel leaned back into the shadows, his fingers once again dancing across his phone screen. A few taps.In th
Cassidy stepped through the door of the apartment at 9 AM, his shoes making little sound as he entered the quiet space. The world outside was still waking up, but for Cassidy, his day had already started. He didn’t need much sleep, and there was work to be done.He went to the room and stepped through the door, the faint scent hitting him before anything else. It wasn’t his cologne—or Matthew’s. No, this was different. Subtle but unmistakable.Masahiro.His lips curled into a sneer as he closed the door behind him, slowly, he turned his gaze toward the bed where Matthew lay sprawled under the covers, his face peaceful, his breaths steady.Disgust twisted in Cassidy’s gut, ‘He didn’t even bother to shower.´The sight of him, so vulnerable and unaware, made Cassidy pause for a moment, a cold smirk tugging at his lips. It was almost too easy. Matthew's biggest flaw had always been his deep sleep, a fact
It was 6 pm, the cool evening air was starting to seep through the office windows, and the usual hum of the city outside was a stark contrast to the quiet tension within Cassidy's office. He sat behind his desk, his eyes fixed on the paperwork before him, but his mind was elsewhere.The heavy door creaked open, and Nathaniel entered. Without a word, Nathaniel made his way over to Cassidy’s desk, standing silently, waiting for instructions.Cassidy didn’t look up immediately, but his fingers drummed rhythmically against the desk, a sign he was lost in thought. Finally, he looked up at Nathaniel, his sharp eyes giving nothing away."Talk," Cassidy said, his voice low, calm, and demanding.Nathaniel stepped forward and placed a file on the desk. “He keeps seeing Masahiro Payne. At 9 PM, he goes to his apartment and spends the night there. Coming back at 6 AM.”Cassidy paused, the words sinking in. A slow smirk tugged at the cor
It was a crisp, energetic afternoon, and the stadium buzzed with excitement as the long-awaited match between Bristol and Middlesbrough FC was about to start. Fans filled the stands in a sea of blue and red, the rivalry between the two teams as fierce as ever. Matthew and Masahiro made their way through the crowd, blending in with the excitement but each lost in their thoughts, unaware of the various ties that bound them all to this very place.Matthew, in his casual black t-shirt, bomber jacket, jeans, and sneakers, looked every bit the confident man as he walked beside Masahiro, who was a little more polished in his long-sleeve t-shirt and dark jeans.They approached the snack stall, the aroma of hot dogs and chips filling the air.“I’ll be right back,” Masahiro said, his voice low but firm. “Need to use the restroom before the game starts.”“Alright,” Matthew replied absentmindedly, pulling out his phone as he
Arthur pushed open the doors of El Paradiso, the pulse of music and chatter washing over him. He adjusted his jacket and surveyed the room, eyes landing on Cassidy in a private booth. The man sat back in his seat, casually swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand, his presence dominating the space like a magnet drawing attention from every direction. The usual smug smirk was plastered on his face, and it made Arthur’s irritation flare.Arthur squared his shoulders and marched over to the booth, irritation lining his every step. Cassidy looked up as he approached, that lazy smile never leaving his face.“Where’s my wallet? It’s late, and I’ve got an early morning. Unlike you, I have work.”Cassidy leaned back even further, savoring the moment before lifting his hand to pull something from his coat. With a flourish, he set Arthur’s ID card down on the table like a prize.Arthur froze, his gaze fixating on the card. H
Cassidy sat at his polished desk, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface as he sifted through the stack of paperwork in front of him. He had almost forgotten about it… Arthur’s wallet.He opened the drawer slowly, the smooth wood creaking slightly. Inside, neatly tucked away in the corner, lay the familiar brown leather wallet. Cassidy’s lips curled into a smirk.“Guess I should call him,” he muttered to himself, his fingers hovering over the phone on his desk. It only took a moment before he grabbed it and dialed Arthur’s number.The phone rang twice before Arthur picked up, his voice clear but slightly disoriented.“Arthur speaking.”“Hey, Arthur… Cassidy here,” Cassidy greeted, leaning back in his chair, his tone casual, but with a hint of amusement.Arthur’s voice faltered for a second. “Ah… You.”Cassidy chuckled softly. “I got
Masahiro sat on the edge of his bed, his laptop open in front of him, his mind focused on the screen as he scrolled through case files. The quiet hum of the hotel room added to the atmosphere of calm that had settled over him in the few days since he’d arrived in Newcastle.His phone that quiet sat on the bedside table buzzed suddenly, the cheerful ringtone cutting through the quiet. He glanced at the screen and saw Yumi’s name flashing. A small, fond smile tugged at his lips as he picked up the call.“Masahiro! Ohayou!” Yumi’s voice burst through the line, as lively and infectious as ever. “How’s my favorite cousin doing?”He leaned back in his chair, feeling a little lighter already. “I’m fine, Yumi. What’s going on?”“Well,” she began, a hint of excitement in her voice, “I was thinking, maybe we could catch up? How about a coffee? I’m free right now!”