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 rapThe 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
Masahiro stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar with his left hand. The fitted white shirt he wore accentuated his athletic build, hugging his body in just the right way. His trousers, cut with precision, fell perfectly over his polished shoes. The black fabric contrasted sharply with the cast on his right arm, but there was nothing he could do about that. He’d learned to live with the cast, much like he’d learned to live with the tension in his life.Tonight, though, he wanted to forget. The weight of Matthew’s presence in the apartment, the constant push and pull between them… it was suffocating. He needed a break, just a few hours away to clear his head. He slung his jacket over his left shoulder, his mind already drifting to the loud, pulsating escape the club would offer.As he stepped out of his room, he found Matthew sitting on the couch, casually flipping through some papers. Masahiro paused, half expecting a comment. He could feel Matthew’s eyes on
Matthew paced nervously in the small apartment.Time was crawling forward, and he knew that as the clock inched towards eight, it would soon be time for Masahiro to take his medication. Matthew had seen to it before, but tonight, something felt off. He reached for his phone, dialed Masahiro’s number, and listened to the ringing tone. After four rings, it went to voicemail.“Damn it, Payne,” he muttered, an involuntary frown etching his handsome features.He left a message, his voice dripping with irritation.`Get your ass back here; you need to take your pills. ´With a sigh, he hung up, wondering if he should wait or do something about it.Deciding to take action, he called Yumi. As upon leaving, Masahiro said was going to her house.“Hey, Yumi, may I talk to Masahiro? He’s supposed to take his meds.”“Matthew?” she replied, her tone confused. “He is not here.”
Upon entering the dimly lit bedroom, Masahiro closed the door behind them, the click of the latch echoing through the room. The atmosphere was heavy with anticipation as Masahiro made his way to the bed, his movements graceful yet purposeful. He sat on the edge of the bed, his dark hair falling across his forehead, and patted the spot beside him. "Come," he said, his voice a low command.Matthew hesitated for a fleeting moment, his tattooed arms crossing his chest. But the fire in Masahiro's eyes was too enticing to resist. ´What’s his game? ´ He thought, his blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto Masahiro's.This was different, wasn’t it? The way Masahiro’s voice lacked that edge of anger, the way his eyes seemed to burn not with rage but something softer, something that didn’t belong between them. Or was Matthew fooling himself again, setting himself up for the same vicious cycle?´Don’t be an idiot, ´ he
Matthew stirred awake, his body aching in ways he didn’t know were possible. Groaning softly, he blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains. He rolled over and froze when his gaze landed on Masahiro, lying on his back, completely at ease. His dark hair was tousled, his chest rising and falling steadily, and his face… usually sharp and intimidating… looked surprisingly soft in sleep.For a fleeting moment, Matthew considered how unfair it was that Masahiro could look so perfect even after... well, that.Dragging himself up from the bed, he winced. Every muscle in his body protested. ´Why am I so sore? Oh, right. Him. ´ He glared at the sleeping figure, but the expression quickly morphed into one of unease as his eyes fell on the evidence of their night scattered across the floor and bedside table. Four used condoms.Matthew’s blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Four?” he whispered to himself, his voice a mix of horror and disb
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!”