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Chapter 57
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2024-12-24 10:30:36It 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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Gold & Sand Chapter 58
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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The hospital felt like a mausoleum… cold, quiet, and unnervingly sterile, as if the place had given up on the concept of warmth altogether. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow on the off-white walls, making everything look like a second-rate horror film set. Matthew walked briskly ahead, his steps purposeful, as if he were on a mission to escape this dreadful place. Behind him, Masahiro trailed, desperately trying not to look too eager to keep up, as though lagging behind would somehow validate their tortured existence together.They had been living together for nearly five months, and in that time, their relationship had twisted into something that could only be described as a twisted sitcom… complete with sarcastic barbs and forced smiles.As they reached the clinic, a nurse motioned for Masahiro to follow her alone. Matthew stayed behind in the waiting area, scrolling through his phone with the kind of indifference typically reser
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Yumi knocked on the door of Masahiro’s apartment, and Matthew, who had been casually lounging on the couch, opened it. He greeted her with a warm smile."Yumi, good to see you again," Matthew said, his tone light and welcoming. He stepped aside to let her in."Likewise, Matthew," Yumi replied, her voice stead.She entered the apartment, and her eyes immediately found Masahiro. He was lying on the couch, looking more relaxed than she had seen him in a long time. His arm was propped up with a pillow, but he gave her a half-smile when she entered, a soft expression that immediately put her at ease."Hey, Yumi," Masahiro greeted her, his voice still a little raspy but clearly more upbeat than the last time they’d spoken.Yumi walked over, taking a seat beside him on the couch. "How’s everything? How’s your arm?" she asked, her eyes scanning him with practiced precision.Matthew, recognizing that the two needed space to ta
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A month laterThe morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, warming the room but doing little to stir its occupants. Matthew lay sprawled across Masahiro’s chest, their breaths steady in sync. The sheets draped lazily over their waists, leaving the marks of last night visible on Matthew’s skin—hickeys scattered along his neck and shoulders, paired with faint bruises where Masahiro’s grip had been firm.The shrill buzz of a phone shattered the peaceful quiet.Masahiro stirred first, his dark eyes narrowing as he glanced toward the bedside table. “Smith… your phone’s ringing.”Matthew groaned, nuzzling closer into Masahiro’s chest. “Hmm…”Masahiro’s voice carried more insistence. “Your phone.”“Too early for this…” Matthew muttered; his voice muffled against Masahiro&rs
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The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as Masahiro stood at the counter, methodically pouring the dark liquid into a ceramic mug. The quiet hum of the early morning was broken only by the faint sounds of Clyde’s paws tapping against the floor as the cat followed him around.Masahiro glanced down, raising an eyebrow at the cat’s persistent presence. “You don’t drink this,” he said dryly, gesturing to the coffee. “There’s food and water in your spot. Go.”Clyde meowed in protest but didn’t budge, his tail flicking lazily as he watched Masahiro take his mug and head toward the balcony.The morning air was crisp, a gentle breeze rustling through the city below as Masahiro leaned on the railing, the warm mug resting in his hands. He sipped his coffee slowly, his gaze wandering over the familiar urban sprawl. For a moment, everything seemed ordinary—the distant hum of traffic,
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Masahiro sat in a café a few blocks away, his coffee forgotten as his eyes lingered on the street outside. The car was still there, parked in the same spot it had occupied since morning. This time, its engine was running, a faint plume of exhaust curling into the chilly air, setting his nerves on edge.Then his eyes caught on a figure across the street. Matthew.Masahiro’s stomach churned. Matthew strolled casually, hands in his pockets, utterly unaware of the danger.Pulling out his phone, Masahiro dialed Matthew’s number. Once. Twice. No answer. The bastard wasn’t picking up.“Come on, Smith,” Masahiro growled under his breath, dialing again.The car’s headlights flicked on. The low growl of the engine grew louder as the vehicle inched forward, angling toward the crosswalk.Masahiro shot to his feet, abandoning his coffee. “Matthew!” he shouted, sprinting out of the café. His voice barely carried over the traf
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The couch wasn’t new to this.It creaked like it recognized the weight—Clark’s spine pressed to the cushions, Adam’s knee between his legs, files forgotten beneath them like collateral damage.Clark didn’t gasp.He groaned.“Tch—Adam.” Half-warned, half-melted. “I just organized those.”Adam didn’t give a damn.“Then you should’ve organized your schedule better, counselor.”He said it at Clark’s throat, teeth barely grazing the skin just beneath his jaw. The kind of contact that wasn’t meant to hurt—but to remind.Clark exhaled through his nose. Calm. Infuriating.“You are dangerously obsessed with making me moan over prosecutorial misconduct.”“That’s ‘cause you sound better screamin’ than lecturin’.”Clark chuckled darkly—head thudding back into the cushion. He pushed his glasses up with two fingers, then slid them off entirely and dropped them onto the table.“You’re so fucking predictable.”Adam smirked. “And you’re so fuckin’
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The crowd around the grave began to thin.Some officers lingered. Others drifted toward their cars in small clusters, the quiet murmur of uniforms brushing against one another, badges catching the sun one last time before vanishing into the afternoon.Masahiro and Matthew stepped forward.The woman stood at the edge of the burial, veil now lifted, her eyes rimmed red but dry. She looked like someone who had cried enough before the funeral ever started.Masahiro approached her first.“Mrs. Doyle,” he said gently, dipping his head. “I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.”Her expression didn’t shift much. But her voice was calm. “Thank you.”There was a steadiness in her grief—one born from surviving years beside a man who chased death for a living.Masahiro gave a small nod, then turned toward the young man standing just beside her.Doyle’s son.Closer now, Masahiro could see the resemblance. The jawline. The way his eyes watched everything. Guarded, te
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It had been five days since Allan Doyle’s body was found behind Barrow Lane.Five days since the call. Since the silence that followed it. Since Masahiro had driven into the night with blood in his chest and Matthew’s voice at his back.Now, the sun was too bright for a funeral, but they buried him anyway.The car rolled to a stop at the edge of the cemetery.Beyond the windshield, the canary was crowded—rows of law enforcement officers in black, lined up in silent formation. Uniforms everywhere: pressed blues, starched grays, polished medals that caught the morning light. Detectives in tailored coats stood among beat cops and field agents. The air was stiff with order and unsaid things.Canopies had been set up above the grave site, a futile attempt to shield the mourners from the pale spring sun. The wind tugged at coat hems and tugged hair loose from buns and slicked styles. But no one moved. No one left.Masahiro turned off the engine.They sat for a
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It was midnight.Matthew’s face was buried against Masahiro’s chest, his breath warm and steady, rising and falling like waves breaking against stone. The bedroom was cloaked in dim gold—just the faintest light slipping through the cracked door, catching on the curve of Masahiro’s bare shoulder.Masahiro lay still, one hand in Matthew’s curls, the other resting against his side. He hadn’t slept.Not really.The weight of six weeks hadn’t left his chest since he’d closed his eyes.Then the phone rang.A sharp vibration on the nightstand. No ringtone—Masahiro never let it ring. Just the buzzing thrum of urgency in the dark.He reached without waking Matthew, answering in one fluid motion.“Payne.”The voice on the other end was clipped. Low. Shaken.“Sir… it’s Doyle. Allan Doyle. He’s dead.”Masahiro didn’t breathe.His hand froze mid-motion. The ceiling above him went quiet.The voice continued. “They found his body in the alley behind Barrow Lane. Gunshot. Close range. No witnesses.”
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The car rolled to a stop in front of Arthur’s building. The street was dim, washed in the orange flicker of old lamps. Arthur hesitated for a second before unbuckling. “Thanks for the ride,” he said quietly, eyes a little too wide, hands still trembling from the night. Masahiro nodded once. “Goodnight, Cooper.” Matthew gave him a small wave from the passenger seat. “Text Masa if anything weird happens, yeah?” Arthur nodded and got out, closing the door softly. He walked up to the building, pulled his keys from his pocket, and glanced back just once. They waited. Arthur opened the gate, disappeared inside, and only when the door shut behind him with a faint click, did Masahiro start the engine again. Silence. It stretched for blocks. Then Matthew let out a sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “This whole thing’s a mess.” Masahiro didn’t respond immediately. He kept his eyes on the road, jaw tight. Matthew kept going. “Six people. And somehow we’re all tangled up
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The lock hissed. The panic room door creaked open.What greeted them wasn’t relief. It was aftermath.A wash of chemical air hit first—smoke and industrial sanitizer, sharp and sterile. Lights flickered overhead, the hallway still recovering from whatever scramble had unfolded outside.Armed officers lined the corridor, weapons lowered but eyes tracking every movement. No one moved until Masahiro stepped out first, calm as a blade.Cassidy followed, still cuffed, but upright. Arthur stayed tucked at his side, blinking against the hallway light like he’d forgotten what outside air tasted like.Behind them, Clark adjusted his tie. Adam stepped beside him, hand loose on Clark’s back without thinking. Matthew emerged next, yawning. He still looked smug.At the far end, a prosecutor and a city official waited. Legal cleanup."We’ll need statements," the official said.Masahiro didn’t even pause. "Not now."The man sputtered, but Masahiro was already wa
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The panic room had gone quiet.The gas had settled. The lock was still sealed. But for the first time in an hour, no one was yelling, bleeding, or threatening to kill someone over sarcasm.Clark sat near the far wall, his head resting on Adam’s shoulder, tie loosened, wrist still trembling.Adam didn’t say anything.Just held a water bottle in one hand, and Clark in the other.He glanced down. “Drink.”Clark sighed, voice hoarse. “You’ve said that three times.”Adam pressed the bottle into his hand. “And I’ll say it a fourth.”Clark took it. “You’re very annoying.”Adam’s smirk was faint. “You like annoying.”Clark: “I like expensive wine and emotional distance.”Adam: “And still end up in my bed. Funny how that works.”Across the room, Cassidy had planted himself against the wall, legs stretched out, one arm wrapped around Arthur, who was tucked against his chest. Arthur hadn’t spoken in ten minutes.Cassidy ran a hand through Art
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The courtroom was colder than usual.Not from temperature. From tension.Cassidy sat at the defense table, cuffed but unmoved. Clean suit. Straight spine. His eyes drifted, slow and knowing, over the faces present—not the jury, not the prosecution. The others.Arthur was in the gallery, near the back, shoulders squared but not at ease. He hadn’t looked at Cassidy since entering. But he hadn’t looked away, either.Clark stood at the defense bench, immaculate in gray. Composed. Watching. Reading the room like a surgeon reads skin.Adam leaned against the wall at the rear of the courtroom, arms crossed, one boot tapped into the tile like a metronome of violence barely restrained. He clocked everything. Every whisper. Every eye shift.Matthew sat beside him, chewing gum he wasn't supposed to have, scrolling his phone without looking. But his free hand rested near Adam’s, just enough to ground him.Masahiro sat two rows ahead of Arthur. Silent. Controlled. The
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Arthur returned to the precinct in silence.His boots clicked over tile, shoulders tighter than when he’d left. He hesitated at the office door.Masahiro was stiil inside. Alone. Leaning against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, unreadable.Arthur opened the door anyway.He didn’t speak. Just shut it behind him.Masahiro watched him for a moment.“You left without a word.”“I know.”Masahiro’s tone didn’t rise. “During work hours.”Arthur nodded.Masahiro tilted his head. “Wanna tell me where you went?”Arthur didn’t flinch. “To see Cassidy.”A pause. Not surprise—just confirmation.Masahiro’s voice was calm. “What did you go there to do?”Arthur swallowed once. “I asked him not to retaliate.”Masahiro blinked slowly. “That’s what you think your job is now?”“I asked him to wait,” Arthur said. “To give us a chance to fix this through the system. I told him I’d do everything I could… by the law.”Masahiro looked at him for a long beat. Then pushed off the desk and walked toward the
