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Chapter 48
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2024-12-19 20:30:08The 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
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Gold & Sand Chapter 49
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
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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
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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
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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.”
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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
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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
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A Week laterMatthew stood at the stove, carefully stirring the pot of pasta sauce, his thoughts drifting in and out of the hum of the kitchen. The scent of garlic, onions, and basil filled the air, mixing with the comforting sound of sizzling. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t immediately hear the soft footsteps approaching.It wasn’t until he felt the familiar presence of Masahiro in the room that Matthew looked up. He didn't need to turn around to know that Masahiro had left his room. He had done this every day for the past week: as soon as Matthew started cooking, Masahiro would quietly leave his solitude and settle into a chair at the kitchen table, book in hand.´What is going on in that man’s head? ´ Matthew thought, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened just from the sound of Masahiro settling into his usual spot. ´It's like he’s waiting for me to look at him… But I
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Matthew had just finished his bath, the warm water still clinging to his skin as he slipped into his soft pajamas. The fabric felt comforting against his still-warm body as he crawled into bed, pulling the covers up. It had been a long day, and the quiet of the room was a welcome relief. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of the day settle on him.Thirty minutes passed. Matthew’s thoughts were beginning to drift when suddenly, he heard a soft knock at the door. It was light, almost tentative, but it was enough to stir him from his half-drowsy state. His first instinct was to jump up, his heart rate quickening, worry creeping into his mind. Had something happened to Masahiro? Maybe his arm was bothering him again. Maybe he needed help.Matthew sprang out of bed, his feet hitting the cool floor, and rushed to the door. He didn’t even bother to think about how he looked. His hair still damp, his pajama pants a little too long, dragging ag
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Arthur dragged himself out of bed, groggy from yesterday’s stakeout, which had amounted to absolutely nothing. His body ached from sitting for hours, watching a man live the most painfully normal life imaginable. Grocery shopping, work, home. That was it. No shady meetings, no clandestine phone calls, no suspicious tattoos appearing or disappearing. Just a guy living his life while Arthur wasted his.Today had to be different.He shuffled into the shower, standing under the water as if it could cleanse away his frustration. Throwing on casual clothes that wouldn’t scream undercover cop, he grabbed his keys and stepped out into the cold morning air.This Alan Blackwood—the one from Cargo Fleet—was supposed to be a little rougher. An ex-convict, a former drug dealer. There had to be something there.Maybe this one wouldn’t spend the entire day debating which brand of cereal to buy.The morni
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Arthur was on the bed, staring at the ceiling as his phone buzzed on the nightstand. The cheap let in a sliver of morning light, casting a faint glow across the cramped room. He reached for his phone without enthusiasm, glancing at the caller ID.Cassidy.His fingers hesitated before answering."Morning, sweetheart."Arthur rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. "Morning," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep."How did you sleep? By this voice, you’re still in bed."Arthur turned onto his side, facing the window. "I slept well. What about you?" A pause. "Yeah… I’m still in bed.""I slept well too, just missing you." Cassidy’s voice was low, teasing. "So, did you manage to ask for a few days off from your boss? You didn’t tell me anything else."Arthur’s breath hitched for a second. "Uh—yeah… I’m in Bristol right now.""I s
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Arthur was at his desk, flipping through the last pages of a report when the sound of the office door opening made him glance up. Masahiro walked in, his sharp gaze scanning the room before heading straight to his desk."Morning, Cooper," Masahiro said as he set down his briefcase."Morning, sir," Arthur responded.He watched Masahiro organize his things, his movements precise and efficient. Without realizing it, Arthur found himself staring. Masahiro, always perceptive, caught the lingering gaze and turned his head slightly."Do you have something to say, Cooper?"Arthur immediately straightened, averting his eyes. "Uh—sir… It's just—"Masahiro raised an eyebrow. "Just what? Spit it out."Arthur exhaled, gathering his thoughts. "My mother is sick, and I… I'm the only family she has. I'd like to go to Bristol for two days to see her."Masahiro, now sitting down, rested his elbows on the desk. "You took this long just to ask for
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Arthur stepped into his studio apartment, kicking off his shoes before throwing himself onto the bed. A wide grin stretched across his face as he stared at the ceiling, his heart still racing with excitement. He had just met Cassidy’s family. They had accepted him.For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged somewhere, like he was part of something special. The warmth of their welcome still lingered in his chest, and he let out a small, contented sigh.But then his gaze drifted to the nightstand beside him.His smile faltered.There, in a simple wooden frame, was a picture of Alexandra. His twin sister. The pang of sadness hit him like a cold wave, washing away the warmth of the evening. For a moment, he felt like he had forgotten—forgotten why he had joined the police in the first place, why he had spent years chasing shadows.He reached for the frame, tracing his fingers over the glass as he stared at her familiar face
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As Cassidy steered the car through the quiet streets, Arthur sat back in his seat, feeling the soft hum of the road beneath them. After a moment, he couldn’t help but smile.“Your mom really knows her way around a kitchen. I think I ate enough to last me a week.”Cassidy’s eyes flicked briefly to him, and a small, almost imperceptible smirk appeared on his lips. “I noticed. You couldn’t stop picking at everything. But it’s cute how you have no self-control.”Arthur looked over at him, unaware of the possessiveness in Cassidy’s tone. “What? It was all so good! You saw me try to be polite, but that lasagna… man, it’s like she put a spell on it.”Cassidy’s expression shifted slightly, but his voice remained playful. “You were staring at the Cheesy Breadsticks like you were about to take a bite out of my hand. If you wanted it that bad, you could’ve just asked.&rd
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"Where's the toilet?" Arthur asked, glancing around.Juliette wiped her hands on a dish towel and pointed down the hall. "This way.""Fine, I'll be right back," Arthur said, heading in the direction she indicated.As the sound of his footsteps faded, Juliette leaned against the counter, lost in thought. The pieces had clicked together too well—too fast. Arthur’s story, the black rose tattoo, the way Cassidy had subtly dodged the topic during lunch. It all pointed to one thing.Then, as if drawn by her thoughts, Cassidy entered the kitchen. He went straight to the counter, filled a glass with water, and took a long sip. But he could feel her eyes on him.Lowering the glass, he met her gaze. "What?"Juliette pushed off the counter and silently walked to the door, closing it behind her. When she turned back, her expression was sharp. "What are you hiding?"Cassidy raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "What are you talking a
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The meal had ended, the table filled with empty plates and half-finished glasses of water. Juliette, always the first to move, stood up and began gathering the dishes.Arthur, wanting to be polite, quickly got up as well. “Let me help,” he said, picking up a plate and following her to the kitchen.They worked together in quiet efficiency, stacking the plates near the sink and wiping down the table. When they finished, Juliette turned toward Cassidy, tilting her head playfully.“Bro, can you come and wash the dishes with me?”Cassidy smiled, about to step forward, when a thought made him pause. His hand instinctively hovered over his wrist—the rose tattoo. The makeup concealing it was waterproof, but he’d been wearing it for hours. Too much water, too much rubbing, and it could start to fade. He couldn’t risk it.Instead, he glanced at Arthur and smirked. “I think it’s better if Arthur helps you&
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Then, after crossing the living room, Cassidy and Arthur was on their way to the dining room, where Arthur immediately noticed the table set for five. His gaze flickered to the extra place setting, and he recalled Cassidy mentioning his sister, Juliette.Lorraine smiled warmly and gestured toward a chair. "Have a seat, Arthur."Arthur pulled out the chair and sat, and Cassidy took the seat beside him."Jules!" Lorraine called toward the stairs."Coming," a voice responded from above.Robert settled into his chair with a knowing look. "It’s not every day our son brings someone home."Cassidy smirked, but before he could respond, Lorraine placed a few bowls of food on the table. "So," she asked, glancing at Arthur, "where did you two meet?"Cassidy, without hesitation, answered, "In a café.""Oh?" Lorraine’s brows lifted slightly.Arthur barely held back a smirk, stealing a glance at Cassidy, who was busy pouring himself a
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The drive to Cassidy's family home was wrapped in an awkward silence, though the tension wasn’t all from the drive. Arthur, eyes focused on his phone, scrolled through messages and notifications, the weight of Cassidy's presence beside him feeling different now. Cassidy, on the other hand, was barely aware of the road. His mind was occupied with a hundred dark thoughts, each one tightening the knot in his stomach.“So,” Arthur’s voice broke through Cassidy’s thoughts, light and boyish. “I’m really excited to meet your parents.”Cassidy forced a smile, though it was tight, like the edges of his mask were fraying. “Yeah, they’re… good people.” He said it flatly, not truly feeling it. Good people? His mind mocked the words. They didn’t know the man who’d made their son, their precious Cassidy, a dangerous, manipulative monster. They didn’t know about the weight of the secrets he car
