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Taehyung loved to laugh but moments where he would be are far in between. There is nothing funny about the hole in his sock or the number of deaths he had seen this week.
There is nothing funny about his divorce.
The storm that afternoon left puddles on the gravel sidewalk. Taehyung would be staring at one, where the lights from the deli sign above him are reflected in, when he gets the call from his attorney. Jimin recommended him. If he’s being frank, Jimin didn’t want to give him a name in protest or in a final attempt to stop Taehyung from doing the stupid thing. But Taehyung had his ways to get his way, and now here is the stout man now, telling him in a monotonous voice that the other party has sent over the necessary papers all signed.
To make matters worse, because fate has its own jokes, Namjoon’s standing right there when Taehyung turns. The other party who agreed that divorce was the only option for them on the grounds that their relationship is incompatible.
At least the absurdity of that got a chuckle out of him, dry as it was.
Namjoon looked worse than Taehyung felt. His dark greasy hair had to have tangles. He had to have been injecting caffeine instead of drinking it. What was he doing here?
But, still, the funny thing is Taehyung still, and always will, gravitate towards him. Their magnetic force trumps any papers that tell them they can no longer be together. What wills Taehyung to walk past him, to swallow the sob, is pride. Taehyung left him, and Namjoon let him go.
It doesn’t matter how thick their history book will be; it ended before it really began.
Now, under the deli across the 27th precinct of New York City, they’re strangers with their backs against each other, walking away and pulling the strings that once tangled them together until it breaks free.
Still, life moves on.
“I would kill for gum right now.”
The inside of Taehyung’s mouth is fuzzy. He has a headache from trying to finish this report; paperwork has not been his forte. He’s better out there, catching details, talking to suspects and M.E.s. But there hasn’t been a call for anything new. He’s just starting to get antsy.
A few feet in front of him, Captain Silva is in his office, probably on the phone with the Chief of D’s. To his left are Yoongi, Cal, and Matteo busy typing on their computers at their respective desks. Jimin, the ADA, is here on his lunch break sitting on Fei’s desk probably discussing the wedding that Cosmopolitan deemed ‘ Wedding of the Century .’
This is the picture of a busy Wednesday morning of the Homicide squad at the 2-7.
Matteo catches his attention with a wave, winks, and throws a piece of gum his way. He mouths his thanks around the piece of gum. Someone squawks, Fei probably. Now everyone wants gum and the keyboard typing noises are replaced by three detectives asking for their piece. Matteo hands one to Cal, who declines, and Fei, and then gives Yoongi a high five.
The eldest of the group scoffs, affronted.
“Cough it up, Ibarra,” he whines.
“You do not even like this flavour, cabron,” Matteo comments in that slow drawl and thick accent.
“Take the liberty to ask. I would’ve taken it, anyway.”
Jimin states, not unkindly, “Give Yoongi hyung his gum, or he’ll scratch your eyes out.”
Cal has not looked up from her work the entire time. “Aren’t we all violent today.”
After Matteo relents, Yoongi accepts the stick handed to him with a loud thank you and walks away already chewing. He’s hiding a grimace, to avoid hearing from Matteo that he knows Yoongi better than Yoongi knows himself; he really hates apple-flavoured anything.
Taehyung is finishing up a report on their latest homicide when he hears a holler overpowering the background noise. It’s still Matteo, always the culprit in all things loud and rambunctious. He decides to ignore it in favour of heading to the printer in the copy room but then he hears Fei, assigned peacemaker in the precinct, joining in.
“Namjoon, if you wanted to dye your hair you should’ve just gone straight to me,” Fei says.
“And lose $300 more than I would’ve normally spent?”
“Price of quality, babe. Besides, I have aunties who could’ve done a much better job.”
“Look, Taehyung. Look what Namjoon did,” calls Matteo.
He isn’t curious. He doesn’t care if Namjoon shaved his head and tattooed a fish on top of it. But he knows, better than anyone, that if he paid any more attention to it in a negative light, Namjoon would change his mind and sulk about it for three weeks. Now that’s just counterproductive.
Namjoon now sports a semi-bald cut and dyed it the lightest shade of blond that suits his tanned skin. The glasses are old but it helps if professor-turned-dandelion is the look he was going for. He looks constipated being subjected to Taehyung’s calculating stare. (It’s taken them a year of painstaking awkwardness to even get to this point of civility after their divorce) But under that apprehension is a smidgen of hope; that’s Taehyung’s version of a kryptonite.
It’s not fair that it still works.
(He mentioned it’s been a year, right?)
Whatever’s to fall from his lips is interrupted by the phone going off and then a voice going, “Got a call about a homicide. Who’s free?”
That would be Namjoon and Taehyung.
Taehyung wished death wouldn't faze him. It would make his job a lot easier.
But seeing a dead woman by his feet spilling red on what used to be a pristine white carpet was never going to be a comfortable norm. Namjoon would say the same if they were the kind of partners to share sentiments or pleasantries. Instead, Taehyung took Namjoon’s sharp intake of breath at the same time Taehyung took his as an unspoken agreement. They would leave the body for later when the M.E. arrived. Seokjin reported traffic and yelled over the phone to not touch the body just yet.
Still, Taehyung crouched down when he noticed a blooming bruise on her neck.
“Does that look like a hickey to you?” Taehyung asked.
“Haven’t seen one in a while,” Namjoon muttered. When Taehyung punched his knee, he said with more care, “It looks like it. Seokjin will tell us if it’s from last night, though.”
Taehyung decided to trust Namjoon on that. His ex-husband worked at SVU, started when they were still dating, before he was reassigned to Homicide with Taehyung after the divorce. Fate has a wicked sense of humour.
“Vic’s name is Alice Ferroa, 32,” the uniformed police officer informed them. “According to Mrs. Nelly next door, she lives in this apartment with her husband. She’s the one who found her when she noticed the door was open and called 911.”
Namjoon and Taehyung thanked him, and then did what they did best. The thing that makes them the exception to the rule that exes should never work together.
“Head trauma, presumably. What? Seokjin can’t stop me from taking a peak, OK? Focus, Namjoon. Perp must’ve hit her with something,” Taehyung started.
“She still has her jacket on. Must’ve come home, didn’t have time to close the door. A surprised perp could easily just—” Namjoon mimed banging someone on the table but there’s no blood on the edge. They both studied the pristine glass coffee table. It had a vase full of fresh lilies, dew still clinging to the petals. The dining room was set for two, an unlit candle sat in the middle.
They follow a non-existent trail that ends at a messy kitchen counter, dried blood on the edge and in between the tiles.
“She was moved—”
“Carried.” Namjoon corrected, interrupting Taehyung only because he’s enthusiastic about unearthing a clue. “Someone carried her to the living room. Bridal style, maybe? There are no traces of blood on the floor. They had to have walked out here all bloody.”
Taehyung never questioned Namjoon. Not before, not during, and especially not now in the after. He liked challenging him.
“But what reason would they have to move her? They could’ve just left her in the kitchen.”
“Remorse? Or shock. It could be an accident.”
“That means the killer knew her. They were probably here before she arrived, and they argued. We need someone with a key.”
Namjoon made a face then, and Taehyung knew he came to the same conclusion he did. “The husband. Unless there’s some other relative or a jealous ex we encounter down the road.”
Not to get ahead of themselves, but that’s already three possible suspects. There’s a fourth, really, because ruling out a possible break-in would be too early. But the clues they’ve picked up are damning: no traces of blood under the lumalight in any other place in the apartment. No bloody clothes in the hamper. The precursor struggle and the eventual crime occurred in the kitchen, where there is blood and two wine glasses.
It was Namjoon who spotted them. He had CSU collect prints. Taehyung only noticed Namjoon still had that dimple when he smiled.
“OK, lovebirds.” Seokjin walked into the apartment in a flurry of navy blue. He was in full kit, still chewing on something, and was staring up at them. “What do you need, confirmation or validation?”
“The first one,” Namjoon said. He pointed at Taehyung. “He touched the body.”
Seokjin raised an eyebrow.
Taehyung said, defensively, “The hickey was worrying, alright? I had to know.”
They’re not friends but they can still tease each other like they are and make each other laugh like they both didn’t punch a hole in each other’s chest. The thought occurred to them at the same time, still connected without a real connection.
As they sober up, they listen to Seokjin while he states his findings. She’s been dead for more than 12 hours, which puts it at around dinner time the evening before. The cut on Alicia’s head confirms she was hit on the kitchen counter. The initial theory is she was pushed and then caught before she hit the floor. The hickey isn’t from the night before, and he didn’t find any signs of sexual assault so no need to get SVU involved. It’s looking like it was a terrible accident during what’s supposed to be a date night, if the wine and food in the oven was any indication.
And now they’re hunting down their first possible suspect: the husband.
Namjoon could be something else if he wanted.
He’s always been good with people. That’s why Taehyung always stepped back when it came to canvassing, interviewing civilians, because Namjoon was just better at it. Taehyung would often come off as flippant and harsh, but Namjoon’s opener was different to each individual. He’d butter them up until they trusted him enough to give information like they were sharing anecdotes over tea.
Canvassing their apartment building and tracking down the husband took an entire day. Mr Ferroa sometimes worked late and stayed at the office. According to him, last night was one of those nights.
“I’m sorry, you said you weren’t supposed to come home last night?” Taehyung asked.
“We have a big presentation coming up, and we have a crib here for situations like this,” Mr Ferroa said through tears. He was seated behind his desk, while Namjoon and Taehyung sat on a leather couch.
Namjoon followed his train of thought, “Did Mrs Ferroa know you weren’t coming home?”
“Yes, I left a message.”
“What time?”
“As team leader, I called for an overnight meeting at around noon and told Ali immediately. Nobody can leave until we get it done.”
In his peripheral vision, Taehyung saw Namjoon send a quick text. He bit back a grin.
They leave him with their sincerest condolences. His sobs could be heard from beyond the door.
Taehyung turned to Namjoon, knowing they shared the same thought. “So, she was cheating on him?”
Namjoon tried to hide it but he bristled. Taehyung meant no malice at all.
“I hate to think it, but it looks like it.”
The next morning, after they dropped by the morgue to confirm the time and cause of death, they drove to where Alicia worked. She co-owned a publishing company with her best friend Tasha. Namjoon was trying to hide his excitement when they got the call, tapping his fingers on his lap while Taehyung drove to an office building in the Flatiron District.
“It’s surreal,” Taehyung heard Namjoon mumble as they parked. The view was spectacular if you were looking at it in the eyes of an author who wanted an office space right in the middle of the city of bestsellers.
Namjoon could’ve been anything else. He could’ve been here, submitting manuscripts, but he chose the path his father laid out for him. Taehyung couldn’t fault him for it; he did the exact same thing. One could say their similarities are what made them incompatible.
He had to physically pull Namjoon inside the revolving doors and spoke with the receptionist himself to get things going. Tasha wasn’t in but she had asked for whoever was in charge of Alicia’s case to visit her at home.
“Is she OK?” Taehyung asked.
The receptionist nodded somberly. “She took Alicia’s death really hard. She just needs time.”
They had a memorial shrine in the lobby for Alicia, where a couple of her staff had kindly asked to do everything they could to find who did this.
“We’ll do what we can,” Namjoon said. He was better at this, too.
All her secretary could tell them was that it was supposed to be an eventful week for Alicia. They were launching a new series on Friday by this popular author who they’ve recently acquired. This could be their big break, become one of the big names, and Alicia wouldn’t be there to see it.
They were at least allowed into Alicia’s office. Taehyung rummaged through her desk while Namjoon searched her shelves. He only had to remind his former other half to leave the books alone and focus on the task at hand three times.
Taehyung found a locked drawer. Interest piqued, he calmly searched for a key. He asked Namjoon to do the same, but he was once again staring at hard bound copies on one of the shelves above the sitting area. As he was about to tell him off again, Namjoon pulled one book off the shelf and opened it to find the entire thing hollowed out.
And lo and behold, a key.
“What in the Agatha Christie is this?”
Taehyung, after donning his gloves, snatched it. The drawer had a bundle of envelopes wrapped in a rubber band. They were addressed to A, written in cursive on the front. They were all once sealed with red wax and the papers are scented. Love letters upon love letters, short and sweet, all written in cursive. Namjoon leaned over Taehyung’s shoulder as they read them together.
“Romantic. Nice penmanship, too,” said Taehyung, flipping through letters. He remembered all the notes Namjoon left Taehyung once, and what Taehyung sent back. They don’t reminisce.
“No chance they signed with their name?”
“This job doesn’t like making it easy for us, Namjoon.”
Taehyung gave the letters to Namjoon; he had bigger pockets.
Visiting Tasha was their shot at clearing things up for them. But it was nearing noon and Namjoon had to be at court for another case in an hour. Taehyung’s stomach grumbled in protest. Of course it was loud enough to be heard in the car. Namjoon wasn’t going to let him get away with it, so after teasing him about keeping an actual bear locked in his body without feeding it he suggested they grab a bite to eat.
This is also normal for them. It’s counterproductive to eat separately. They had to suffer the consequences of it those first few cases together. Now they know to just sit in silence, enjoy the few minutes that they’re not discussing death and what led to it. Taehyung used to be able to talk to Namjoon about everything. As friends at the academy, as uniformed officers working different precincts, as SVU and Homicide detectives who are dating. It’s only now that they have more things in common that they find less reasons to be alone together.
Of course it’s because of the divorce.
They haven’t talked about it since the final meeting with their lawyers. What’s there left to say that wouldn’t put them right back where the problem was?
They were in a crowded bistro, looking more like academics than detectives with their trench coats draped over the backrest of their seats and their wool vests. Jazz was playing in the speakers but the chatter of the lunch rush crowd overpowered the melody. Namjoon peered at the view outside the window, squinting when the sun hit his face.
“Do you think murder because of jealousy is possible?” Taehyung asked, dusting crumbs off his fingers.
While he liked challenging Namjoon with questions, Namjoon also loved entertaining them. He would adlib an entire play if Taehyung asked him to act.
“Absolutely. It’s not justifiable but it’s one of the oldest motives in the book.” Namjoon chewed on his sandwich and his words. “But it’s our victim who was the one cheating and according to Mr Ferroa, he wasn’t home.”
“You and I don’t believe that, Namjoon.”
“He was at work all night. I’m just saying we could also be looking at Alicia’s lover.”
They discuss dinner plans, Alicia’s and not their own, on the drive to the courthouse. If Namjoon had asked, Taehyung would have told him about his dinner plans with the soon-to-be-wedded couple and invited him along. But he didn’t. Taehyung was due back at the precinct to log the work they’ve done in a shared doc with Namjoon; Namjoon would polish it later.
Namjoon slid out of the passenger seat, mumbling thanks.
Taehyung drove to Central Park, took the last 10 minutes of his break to inhale fresh air instead of ink that surrounded the precinct. He used to do this with Namjoon. They would meet at this bench, share a hoagie from the nearby deli, and share stories about their mornings. Dinners were far in between. Being in SVU was tough. It called for later hours than Homicide detectives would dare work.
But it wasn’t their work that separated them either.
The bench right next to this one was where he caught Namjoon kissing another man.
Tasha lived in a townhouse on the Upper East Side. As Taehyung was welcomed in by a maid, he ruled out full ownership of the company or money as motive. This place looked like it could be in Architecture Digest.
“Because it was featured last month,” Tasha McGuire replied when Taehyung expressed this thought out loud. Her olive skin contrasted his tanned one when they shook hands. Her red-rimmed eyes tell him she and Alicia were really close. “Hello, detective.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. He meant that, truly.
Her eyes tightened for a quick second before she turned away and hid. They discussed Alicia in the living room, over a cup of coffee. She was an aspiring writer who had no luck publishing her works. They’ve been best friends since they both started learning how to talk. Tasha was the one who proposed the publishing company idea, where she was the main investor.
“Alicia really is— was the brains of Historia. She and Aaron, really, but it was all her.”
“Aaron as in Mr Ferroa?”
“Yes.” She hid a smile behind her hand. “We wanted to champion female fantasy writers and LGBT stories. She had so much planned. Without her, it’s really just an empty shell.”
“It would be a shame to throw the business away. I heard you’ve got a big release coming up?”
She brightened slightly. “Oh, yes. The release is this Friday. We’re having a dinner party of sorts on Saturday, though it will be sombre given Alicia’s passing. You’re welcome to attend if you’d like, Detective Kim.”
Taehyung had plans with Matteo and Jimin that weekend.
But he had a gut feeling, and so he asked, “I’ll put it on my calendar. Could you just—“ He handed her his notepad and pen.
“Oh, certainly.”
She wrote down the address in a familiar cursive.
“We have to ask this, but where were you last night? Around six to nine in the evening?”
“I left work at 8,” she said as she handed back the notepad. “There were certain things that needed my full attention at work, so.”
Taehyung smiled and showed himself to the door.
He saved his hunches for later. The precinct was a lot different than it was yesterday morning. Matteo and his husband Jack greeted him when they were heading out as he was heading in. Cal was escorting a sneering woman to one of the interrogation rooms. There were a bunch more people in lock-up. Yoongi was arguing with Jimin while Cap. Silva and Fei watched on warily.
“It’s all circumstantial,” Jimin cut Yoongi off. “We’ve been through this. We need that confession.”
“Cal’s with her right now. We have probable cause she killed him. But we need to search her office for the weapon, and they won’t let us without a warrant. Jimin, please.”
“Fine, I’ll listen in,” Jimin grumbled. He gave Taehyung a quick hug before walking past.
When Namjoon finally got back from court, they compared the handwriting. It was close. The lab confirmed the wine glass and the letters had prints from both Alicia and Tasha. On the one hand, it was great to have found an end to one thread, but it also led to another. They placed Tasha the night of the murder but they have no motive and no real reason to bring her in. She was well-off. She knew Alicia was married. But, like Namjoon said, all of this could have been an accident and admitting to it meant bringing the entire company down.
He expressed all of this to Namjoon as they walked out of the building into a neighbourhood basking in the orange glow of a sunset.
And then Namjoon asked, “You think Aaron had more reason to kill Alicia?”
“How would you feel if you find out you were being cheated on?”
The question left his mouth before he could really think about it. They’ve only discussed what Taehyung saw at the park once. It was a long argument that ended in tears. There was a precursor moment, a silent understanding that it was over. He didn’t want to keep what he saw for himself and explode later on. He confronted Namjoon about it the moment Namjoon got back to their apartment. He heard him out and tried to understand. That this other detective had been flirting with him and wouldn’t take “No, I’m married” as an answer. That kiss was uncalled for and he left him there with no intention to see it through.
It still happened. Taehyung still saw it. He held onto that and brought them here.
Namjoon huffed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’d feel devastated and hurt. I would leave the first chance I got.”
Like you did was unsaid but Namjoon could project paragraphs on a stare alone.
Theirs was different. Their relationship had been a teetering jenga. Taehyung just pulled the wrong piece and everything they’ve built just toppled over. Not in the entire year they’ve worked together did they talk about rebuilding it again. Namjoon was under the impression Taehyung would never forgive him; Taehyung believed Namjoon couldn’t love him again.
“We need to place James in the scene for that,” Taehyung forced out. This is still about the crime. They still have a job to do. “But he isn’t. According to Matteo, co-workers confirmed he was there all night. He also placed an order for pizza and a team member took a selfie. He was with them.”
“We can interview them again.”
That makes sense. They’re back on levelled ground again. At least, Taehyung is now. All he could say is, “Fair enough.”
“Tomorrow?” Namjoon sighed, sounding tired all of a sudden. But there isn’t any animosity. He looked at Taehyung with as much patience and kindness only he was capable of. He leaned on the hood of the car, smiling. “Go rest up.”
“I have dinner plans with Jimin. Do you need me to drop you somewhere?”
“I’m picking up my suit for Saturday. Jungkook picked it out.”
The drive to the store was silent. Taehyung left Namjoon with an unprompted, “Make sure to get a pocket square.”
Namjoon chuckled. It felt like a ridiculous win.
“You’re both OK, right?”
Dinners with Jimin and Jungkook meant a hotel restaurant where Taehyung, in his slacks and vest, was extremely underdressed. He was convinced Jimin wore his Oxford shoes and button downs to bed. Jungkook was famous enough that he could be in a tank top at the Waldorf and it would be considered normal.
They’re at the Four Seasons sipping on champagne. One of their favourite topics to cover is Namjoon.
“We’re fine,” Taehyung said, confused. “Better than before, really. As colleagues.”
“Why do you do this to yourself?” Jimin groaned.
“It’s better this way.”
Jungkook made an anguished sound. “Is it, really?”
Jimin, in the middle of work and arranging his own wedding, has been talking to him non-stop about getting back together with Namjoon. He means well, Taehyung knows that. He knows Taehyung better than Taehyung knows himself. He knows what happened, and after being momentarily pissed he was sure they could patch things up.
He still believes that there’s still a chance yet for the two of them.
“You still love him,” Jungkook pressed. He’s supportive of any and all Jimin’s schemes. Getting Namjoon and Taehyung back together was considered one.
“If you just talked to him—”
“I do. We talk about work. We get along at work. That’s enough for me.”
That’s not even a lie but the words felt bitter in his mouth like it was. There was more to say but their food arrived and Jungkook expertly steered the conversation away from all things tall, recently blond, and handsome. He walks out of dinner full and buzzed. Jungkook offered to let someone drive his car back to his apartment. Taehyung agreed but he didn’t want to walk with them. He wanted to walk, get on the subway, and make it to his apartment tired enough so he can just plop down on the bed and pass out immediately.
He stopped by one of the 24-hour convenience stores a couple of blocks away from his apartment for a bottle of water. Under the bright white LED lights, he recognizes someone at the register. He has only seen him once before. At the park, with Namjoon. But he’ll recognize that face.
He does the cowardly thing. He hides, feigning interest at the Red Bull can in the fridge. From what Jimin told him, that guy is the reason Namjoon left SVU in the first place. It didn’t matter he and Taehyung weren’t together anymore; that guy, raven hair and blue eyes, was no longer allowed near Namjoon.
Taehyung never thought he was ever capable of scorching anger that seeped deep in his bones. Was it all misplaced? It wasn’t Namjoon’s fault. If Taehyung hadn’t seen Namjoon that night, Namjoon would’ve come home and told him. Calmly. Not in the way Taehyung, with all the strength he had left, stormed through and made up his own mind.
His thoughts led him out of the store without buying anything, to a different direction away from his apartment. The lights are on at the 2nd floor.
Two minutes passed before Tasha opened the door. She had a robe on, looking lost when she saw it was Taehyung at her door.
She was expecting someone else. But whoever Taehyung thought it was wasn’t it. No, that person’s dead.
Alright.
“I’m so sorry. I just—” He made sure to raise his shoulders, act like it’s the silliest thing to be here right now. On the inside, he was fueled with a hunch and rash decisions. “Do you mind if I—?”
He stepped forward just before she could close the door further. There was no stopping him.
“Is this about Alicia’s case?” she asked with a chuckle when she closed the door behind them.
“Yes, it’s quite urgent.”
The living room felt different in the dark. Colder, somehow. Or maybe it’s just Taehyung.
She sat by the couch while Taehyung insisted on standing. He didn’t want to stay long. What he wanted to do was dial Namjoon’s number and pray that by some miracle he’d come running to him. But he kept his hands safely at his sides, not reaching for anything.
“Are there any developments?” Tasha asked. She couldn’t look at him straight in the eye.
That just gave him the final push. “We think we have a good lead. In the middle of our investigation, we found these letters. In your handwriting.”
“Where’d you find them?” she asked.
“Alicia’s drawer.”
A few expressions crossed her face, fleeting but noticeable. She finally settled on a blank stare, an exasperated sigh, and she stood up. Taehyung needed to ask the right questions and diffuse whatever bomb she has trapped inside of her that’s waiting to explode.
“When did you realise Alicia knew about you and Mr Ferroa?”
“A couple of days ago. Aaron told me his letters went missing. He kept them at their apartment, the fucking idiot. And then she invited me over, had this whole dinner set up. She was telling me she was going to leave him anyway. Why didn’t I wait until then?”
“I think we should head down to the precinct. You can tell me all about it—”
“I didn’t kill her!” She hugged herself, watching with wild eyes while Taehyung stepped forward. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to.”
Namjoon was better at this. Namjoon would know how to calm her down. But it’s just Taehyung now. It’s always been just Taehyung for a year now and yet all he could think about was Namjoon.
She wasn’t in any danger to herself. She wasn’t going to hurt Taehyung. If he had any idea Taehyung needed to act quick. “It’s OK. I’m sorry.” He needed to cuff her. He needed to get close enough to grab her wrists. “Tasha McGuire, you’re under arrest for the murder of Alicia Ferroa.”
She was sobbing fully now, mumbling her apologies to Alicia who will never hear her.
Taehyung read her rights, locked the cuffs, and called for backup.
Of course, the Captain was angry.
He went there without telling anybody. He didn’t call for backup. He didn’t contact his partner in any way. Said partner was glaring at him from where Captain Silva was looming over him. Any excuse he would come up with would fall short and anger them more than they already are.
Matteo was here, worryingly biting his lip at his desk. Yoongi was sitting at his desk and chewing his nails. They were nervous for him, he could tell, and that thought alone was comforting enough. But he still felt terribly chagrined like a scolded child.
Once Taehyung swore a thousand times that he would never do it again, Captain Silva headed back to his office. It had been a gruesome 2 hours in the interrogation room. It happened just the way Tasha described before Taehyung arrested her. The whole dinner was a setup. Alicia wanted to confront Tasha about betraying her and sleeping with Aaron behind her back. Tasha knew they were getting a divorce. Tasha kept saying it was self-defence, that they were fighting and Alicia slipped.
She didn’t ask for her lawyer, wanting for this to be over with. They had to keep her in lock-up after until arraignment.
The clock above the double doors told him it was too early to have this conversation and too late to plan his own escape home.
Namjoon took Captain Silva’s place, but he looked even more daunting for some reason. He’s never been this upset at him. But, granted, Taehyung may jump to conclusions and follow his gut using rash decisions but he never went out of protocol. This is the only time Taehyung brought his personal life to work.
“Why would you go there alone, on foot? What if she’d hurt you and the unis didn’t arrive on time? What if Aaron showed up?”
So much fire in those eyes. So much of that thing Taehyung had been missing but never gone without.
“I didn’t account for that because I wasn’t there because of the case,” said Taehyung. He shrunk in his seat. “Not initially, at least.”
“Then why were you there?”
He’s all fired up now, too. He just had to know. So he stood up to his full height, the same as Namjoon’s, and stared at him straight in the eye when he said, “I had a stupid thought, OK? Someone had to have an explanation why people cheat. Why not ask someone who’s actually done it?”
Namjoon’s arms fell to his side. “You’re— Taehyung.”
“I saw him. That guy. He looked fine. He looked great, actually. And I just thought, this guy should know how he ruined my life. Does he know? He knew you were married, yes?” He didn’t wait for Namjoon to nod, but he felt a smidgen of relief that Namjoon did. “So why? He’s fine. This doesn’t affect him at all, and yet here I am—” He’s scrambling for air. He tasted tears when he pursed his lips. Here he is broken for something he’d done. He’s still laying in pieces for something that he thought would fix him. “It was stupid, OK? And reckless, and I won’t ever do it again. But I’m not sorry for going there when it led to a solve.”
That walk off would’ve felt better if he brought his car with him. But he had to sit with what he said while standing in the cold, waiting for a cab.
Yoongi caught up with him, gently guiding him to his car before Taehyung could protest. He had an apartment with his husband a few blocks away from Taehyung’s place. He thanked him, noticing he turned the temperature of the seat warmer up. Yoongi didn’t ask questions or tell him it’s going to be OK. Their eldest moved through comforting silence.
“Is it OK if I stay over? I promise I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.” Taehyung glanced at the clock, cringing. “Well, in a few hours. It’s my day off.”
“Hobah won’t let you leave without eating, Tae. Stay for as long as you need.”
They climbed up the steps to the brownstone. He showed Taehyung to the guest room. He stripped down to just his boxers, knowing Hoseok would have his head if he slept with his outside clothes on, and slept fitfully through the last hours of dawn.
After breakfast with Hoseok, Taehyung got a call from Jimin. Tasha pleaded guilty and made bail. Namjoon made sure to finish all the paperwork, which left Taehyung nothing to work on, really. He doesn’t know if that’s punishment or a kind gesture.
He excused himself for the day, putting yesterday’s clothes on, and taking the familiar route back to his apartment. His car’s there. He drove through familiar streets, walked familiar paths dotted with leaves, until he reached that bench in Central Park. Not the bench he and Namjoon frequented.
That bench, where Taehyung’s life was irrevocably changed.
He tried to remember past seeing the kiss. It was a tiny peck that Namjoon moved away from. He had been so angry, his voice booming across the park in broad daylight. When Namjoon told him about it, the few seconds he stole in the middle of Taehyung’s outrage, that guy asked him to go there to talk about a case but it ended up being a completely different conversation. Namjoon had been devastated that night, pleading on his knees, but Taehyung had been broken and stubborn and numb.
It was rash. It was reckless. It was quintessential Taehyung when he thought he was better than that.
“You’re at the wrong bench.”
Namjoon stood there in his trench coat, the sun bouncing off his blond hair.
“Why did you sign the papers?” he asked when Namjoon sat on their bench, the one next to it.
“I thought that was what you wanted. I know you. No amount of talking ever led us to fixing it. You raised more problems than I had solutions to them.”
“Incompatibility was the only way we could get it finalised. And I realised how different we were.”
“Bullshit, Taehyung. We were unhappy for a time before it happened, but I had no reason to leave if you weren’t so adamant on leaving me first. I couldn’t do anything.”
It was harsh but he was right. They got along at the academy because they could speak in their native tongue and make fun of the instructors who were mean. They had the same taste in music, in films. They were both so unbelievably enamoured with each other that by the time they graduated, dating made the most sense. They got married a few months later, a civil wedding with Yoongi and Jimin as their witness. It was the best day of Taehyung’s life.
“It felt like the right thing to do at the time, and I thought I was saving the both of us from years of unhappiness.”
“There is nobody else that could make me happier than you do.” Namjoon inched closer until he was leaning on the side of his bench to get Taehyung to look at him. A single touch on the cheek was all it took. “Then, now, and I know tomorrow it will be the same. Even when I’m pissed at you. I’m so mad, but I want to be mad with you. I still want everything with you, Taehyung.”
Even. Despite. There is so much damage but there is hope in between the cracks that is their relationship.
“You piss me off, too,” Taehyung laughed wetly. It’s the first in a long time.
Down the line, a lot of counselling awaits them. They have work. They have lunch dates filled with pastrami and orange fizz soda. They have weekend dates with their co-workers. They have debates. They have arguments that last a whole day. They will never run out of things to say to each other, and most of them are the sort of dialogue that will have all their co-workers pretend to barf.
They have a shit ton to go through, but at least they have each other just as it always should have been.