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Chapter 52
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2024-12-21 20:30:39Matthew 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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It was morning, and the soft light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a calm glow across the room. Matthew moved about the kitchen with practiced ease, his movements fluid as he cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them together with a touch of seasoning. The aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air, mingling with the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee.At the kitchen table, Masahiro sat quietly, his gaze fixed on Matthew. His usually steady, stoic expression was softer today, eyes lingering on Matthew's every move. There was something different in his stare… a quiet admiration, the kind that spoke of more than just casual observation. Masahiro couldn’t help but notice how easy Matthew made it look, how natural it all seemed. He was starting to realize something, something he hadn't anticipated: he was beginning to like Matthew. The weight of it settled in his chest, unfamiliar but undeniable. He never liked Matthew, but this feeling? This was new.“Payne,” Matt
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Masahiro stirred awake, the faint morning light filtering through the curtains. He blinked a few times, the haze of sleep clearing as his gaze settled on Matthew. The man was still asleep, his blond hair messy against the pillow, his breathing steady and even. In the soft light, Matthew’s features looked striking… sharp jawline, full lips, and the faint shadow of stubble on his chin. He looked peaceful, younger somehow, and undeniably handsome.Watching Matthew sleep felt... strange. Masahiro wasn’t sentimental… he prided himself on being practical, logical, and focused on what needed to be done. But in moments like this, all that restraint seemed to slip. There was something grounding about the stillness in the room, about the faint rise and fall of Matthew’s chest as he breathed deeply, utterly unguarded.Masahiro hated admitting it, even to himself, but he liked this… the quiet, the warmth, the way Matthew looked without the usual bravado. No smirks, no snarky comments, no sly glan
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Masahiro lounged on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, and the faint glow of the television flickering across his face. He wasn’t really watching it… just letting the noise wash over him while his thoughts wandered. The light from the screen painted his features in shades of blue and white, casting an almost ethereal glow around him.The quiet of the room was broken by Matthew’s voice echoing from the hallway. "That's funny, Lewis..."Masahiro’s brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Lewis’s name, the tone of Matthew’s voice grating on his nerves. He was laughing… softly, casually. ´Lewis, again? ´ Masahiro’s jaw tightened, but he ignored it, trying to focus on the TV. He wasn’t about to give in to the fleeting jealousy that bubbled up at the sound of Matthew's laughter. ´It’s nothing, ´ he told himself, turning the volume down just a little. But the slight discomfor
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The room was quiet, save for the occasional clink of utensils against plates. The aroma of dinner filled the air, a simple meal after a long day. Both Matthew and Masahiro were seated at the table, each enjoying their food in a peaceful silence.Matthew, however, couldn't shake the thought of what he had witnessed earlier. He leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he broke the silence."Since when do you like Clyde?" Matthew asked, his tone casual but with an edge of curiosity.Masahiro paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. He glanced at Matthew with a neutral expression, then shrugged before continuing to eat. "What do you think?" he replied, keeping his voice even.Matthew frowned, clearly intrigued. Masahiro wasn't one to offer explanations, especially when it came to personal matters. But this, this was different. He needed to know more.Masahiro placed his chopsticks down, his gaze drifting toward the window as he continue
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Clark’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, vibrating against the glass. He glanced at the screen, Masahiro flashing in bold letters.He sighed, snatching it up. “Masahiro.”“Clark.” Masahiro’s voice was clipped, but not tense. “Good. You’re alive.”“Is that disappointment I hear?” Clark’s tone was effortlessly dry. “Or were you hoping I’d leave you with one less headache?”“We went to your place. It was empty.”“Yes, I’m aware. That’s generally the goal when one isn’t home.”“We heard about the gunfire.” Masahiro ignored the jab. “You alright?”Clark adjusted his glasses with precise, deliberate finesse. “Charmed, as always.”“And where are you?”Clark hesitated. He could practically hear the judgment loading.“Adam’s.”A pause. Just long enough to register the surprise without voicing it.“Of course you are.” Masahiro’s voice was too level. “And this decision was made with the full clarity of your legal genius?”“Obviously. Nothing
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Smoke still clung to Clark’s jacket like a ghost he couldn’t shake. He’d barely had time to process the ambush—just flashes of gunfire, Adam shoving him down, the brutal jolt of the car door slamming shut. Now they were speeding down a back road, the city lights thinning behind them.Clark stared out the window, heart still jackhammering under his ribs. Asphalt blurred under the tires. The direction felt wrong.“This isn’t the hotel district,” he said, adjusting his glasses with clipped precision. “Where are we going?”Adam didn’t look at him. His grip on the wheel was tight, jaw clenched. “My place.”Clark blinked. “Your what?”“My place,” Adam repeated. “We’re layin’ low.”Clark snapped his head toward him. “Since when is your house suddenly the panic room? Take me to a hotel.”Adam exhaled, sharp and irritated. “A hotel ain’t safe.”“And your place is?”“Yeah.”Clark scoffed. “That a joke? What’s next, you gonna tuck me in with a loaded Glo
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The door clicked shut behind them, soft but final.Clark was the first to move, striding across the room and dropping his file folder onto the table like it had offended him. He didn’t take off his coat. Didn’t loosen his tie. Just leaned forward, both palms on the table, head low.The air felt like it hadn’t been breathed in properly for hours.Masahiro stood near the wall, arms folded, expression unreadable as always. His coat was still buttoned, not a hair out of place, voice low and clipped.“You did well,” he said.Clark didn’t lift his head. “They were the ones who did well.”“Don’t be modest. You controlled the tempo from the moment you stood up,” Masahiro added, voice firm. “Even she couldn’t shake the narrative.”Clark finally straightened. Adjusted his glasses. “She’ll try harder on monday.”“And you’ll handle it,” Masahiro replied simply. “You’re still one of the best in Middlesbrough, whether you’re spiraling or not.”From the corner,
