#Shin Logistics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

friedbaekhyunandeggso · 3 days ago

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found you - ch. 6 (part I)

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! smart! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only, stalking/possessive themes, profanity, coercion, pet names (kitten, baby), sexual themes, gruesome/violence, physical assault, there’s probably more but i can’t think of it all at the top of my head—just be warned & pls if there’s anything that makes u even slightly uncomfortable pls do not proceed truly

word count/plot: [15.7k!] ara catches gojo’s attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins…

a/n: hiii guys i'm back !!! as per usual sorry for taking so long to write/post this but once again writing is truly just a side hobby for me. i do try to write as much as i can whenever i get muse tho so there is that. anyway, i apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar or logistics errors. i did get most of my 'crime investigation' knowledge from tv shows so don't bop me in the head if ur an expert & ur like 'what is this writer on abt' regardless, ya'll r in for a ride. i'm going to try posting the second part of this either tomorrow or wednesday so keep an eye out (it was too much to fit in 1 post oop)

He walked off the stage, the cheers still loud after his speech. He glanced over at Ara's empty seat beside his.

He plopped onto his chair and glanced at her empty seat once more. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to know her opinion on his speech. He'd managed to get their fellow classmates rather riled up, the complete opposite of her somewhat serious speech.

The vice principal standing nearby seemed to take notice of him glancing at Ara’s seat. She offered him a small smile before supplying,

“She went to the bathroom.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She merely nodded before facing Principal Yaga, who was currently speaking on the stage. He was now handing out the rest of their peers diplomas.

Gojo was bored out of his mind. He cheered as loud as he could for his friends but-Goddamn- were there really so many heads in their class? He never realized. But it was entertaining to see Toji turn red as a tomato when everyone cheered as loud as they could when he crossed the stage. The bastard finally graduated.

He cupped his hands and hollered, “TOJIIII LETSGOOOOO!”

Toji briefly shot him a middle finger as he passed.

Gojo grinned, lowering his hands from his face before glancing over at Ara beside him— she still wasn’t there.

His brows furrowed. She should be back by now.. he slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked her location. She was in the bathroom.

He texted her.

s: u good?

s: u missed toji crossing the stage

s: the whole entire school clapped for him

s: they were ready for his ass to LEAVE

He slipped his phone back into his pocket.

10 minutes passed.

He pulled out his phone again and checked her location. She was still in the bathroom.

s: ara

s: ??

s: r u okay?

He contemplated going to the bathroom himself. It'd been too long. He then heard the next student's name.

“Tristan shin.”

Fuck. Shoko’s name was coming up. He'd check after Shoko crossed the stage. A few more names were said until finally,

“Ieiri Shoko.”

Gojo shot up, yelling and cheering like a hooligan. He reached underneath his seat for the confetti cannon and shot it in her direction.

Shoko locked eyes with him and let out a laugh. She was still laughing as she shook the principal’s hand before taking her diploma.

She stuck her tongue out at him as she passed the row he sat in. He grinned back.

Alright, now it was check on ara time. He peeped her location once more to see she was still in the bathroom before standing up. The vice principal glanced his way and he mouthed ‘bathroom’ before slipping away.

He walked past the rows of students to head towards the closest bathroom. Their graduation was outdoors so the nearest bathroom was the one close to the tennis field.

He walked to the bathroom, briefly glancing at the men’s door before walking right into the women’s bathroom.

“Ara?” he asked.

He glanced around before walking towards the stalls to see that none of the stalls were occupied.

His brows furrowed before he glanced down at her location on his phone to make sure her location was right. Yes, it was supposed to be this bathroom. She should be here-

He then grew more confused when he realized his texts never delivered. Then suddenly the dot over the map for her location disappeared.

He frowned before glancing up from his phone to immediately notice one of the sinks filled to the brim with water. He walked over to see her phone in the water.

He quickly pulled her phone out and tried to turn it on. The screen remained black.

Shit. Looks like she needs a new phone. He found it hard to believe she would leave her phone behind in a sink full of water by mistake. This also didn’t answer the big question of where the hell she was.

He glanced around the bathroom. Something felt off.

He entered each stall, searching thoroughly. Nothing. He glanced over the bathroom counter once more. Nothing.

Just as he was about to head out, he stopped. His eyes darted towards the trash bin before approaching it.

He froze for a millisecond.

He reached in and pulled out her rumpled dress. It was a dainty little Ralph Lauren dress from the early 2000s, an archived piece. He glanced within the trash to find her graduation cloak, cap and heels in there as well.

His jaw locked. His heart plummeting to his stomach. Did something happen to her?

Maybe she hadn’t been alone in the bathroom, it was for public use after all. Anyone could come in. Something cold settled within him at thought.

He stalked out of the bathroom, searching to see if there were cameras near the entrance. Fuck. There weren’t any at this bathroom.

He squeezed her dress in his hand.

I’m gonna find you, Ara, don’t worry

He was working with the police, but he wanted to choke them all out.

“What the fuck do you mean the academy doesn’t have any cameras on their outdoor campus?”

He spun on Principal Yaga, “The fuck am I paying 50k a year to this school for?”

The chief officer flinched while-as Mr.Yaga frowned, “Watch yourself, Satoru. We’ve never had a need for it. I still gave the police all the camera footage I had.”

Satoru’s gaze was sharper than razors but his attention redirected to the Chief Officer when he spoke,

“We've searched through the footage of the entrances and exits of the academy building that Mr.Yaga provided and we couldn’t find anyone that fit Ara’s profile.”

“Let me see the footage.” Gojo replied.

“I assure you our tech intel team ha—“

“I don't care. I want to see the footage myself.”

Principal Yaga eyed him for his tone as the Chief officer nodded once, “We can arrange that.”

Gojo stood in a tv screen covered room. Principal Yaga stood behind him as a cop beside him explained which screen was which.

“-and this camera is the main entrance of the school. All the footage is time stamped to start at 9:15 am. 30 minutes before the estimated time ara went to the bathroom. If you’d like to speed through you can just hit these buttons.”

“Sweet.” He placed his hand on the back of the cop’s chair and pulled the seat out for him, “I'm gonna take this seat.”

“Uh-“ the cop appeared flustered and he looked at the chief behind Gojo who nodded at him to comply. “sure.”

The cop stood up and Satoru didn’t waste any time slipping into his seat.

He pressed play.

“Satoru, you’ve looked through all the footage several times. It’s okay to admit you can’t find anything-“

He didn’t look away from the screen as he answered sharply, “If you want to go home then just go.”

Mr.Yaga stared at him for a moment before sighing. He stood up and left.

He stared at the camera footage of the main entrance, about 10 minutes after Ara supposedly went to the bathroom.

They’re were so many people. So many parents arriving late. Families reuniting and talking by the main lawn of the school. Some arriving in private cars others taking taxis, ubers or whatever the fuck.

The point was he couldn’t find her. He'd raked through the videos from each entrance/exit of their school about 20+ times. Meticulously checking each person and yet Ara was no where to be seen.

The cops had also returned from searching the campus. All they brought back was useless pictures of the women’s bathroom with her graduation cap, gown and heels in the trash and pointless interviews of the staff. They now had on record that the vice principal was the last person she spoke to, saying that she was going to the bathroom.

But he’d already known that.

Her phone was still getting fixed by the tech department. The water damage had thoroughly done its job. Had she done that on purpose? Or was it someone else?

Where are you, Ara?

He sat on the edge of his bed. His head in hands.

Cops swarmed his bedroom, taking pictures of every. little. thing. If he heard another camera snap he might lose his mind.

It had been one day without her. One day too long.

He was already losing it, dark voices whispered in the back of his mind-theorizing the worst of things. If something had happened to her..

No. No. Keep it together.

He sat up and walked towards the main detective on the case. Detective Rebecca, specialized in missing persons, quite experienced in her field. He already spoke to her several times. He'd answered question after question about Ara for her-Ara’s recent whereabouts, her daily routine, her schedule, her interests, her habits, her emotional variability, everything.

She was staring at Ara's side of the closet.

She glanced back at Gojo as he approached, “She had quite the collection of clothes, didn’t she?”

Ara's side of the closet was only half full. She had just started exploring her style. A pang went through him when he spotted her prom dress.

“Her collection was just starting.” he explained flatly.

“What do you mean?” Rebecca asked.

“I mean she was just getting into figuring out her personal style,” he answered while rolling up the sleeves of his dress-shirt to his elbows, “She was into buying jewelry recently.”

He wandered over to the accessory table, glancing over the several Van Cleef, Vivienne Westwood, Chanel—Wait. His brows furrowed. Some of her Cartier and Bvlgari pieces were missing… and now that he looked at her jewelry overall, it seemed to be… a little underwhelming compared to what he’d seen before.

He knew he’d bought her more jewelry than this.

“20 Birkins, wow.” Detective Rebecca commented.

“24.” his eyes didn’t leave the jewelry display as he answered.

“What?”

“It should be 24.” he repeated before turning around. He mentally counted all the Birkins on her wall of purses. It was 20.

“4 are missing, as well as some of her jewelry.” he noted aloud.

Detective Rebecca gestured for some of the photographers to take pictures of the accessory counter and the Birkin wall.

“Could your house staff have stolen something?” she inquired.

He shook his head, “No, we haven’t had new staff in ten years. They are all legally bound, fingerprinted, background checked with no criminal records. They also get overcompensated for their jobs but Marin is the only maid allowed in my room.”

Rebecca scribbled things down in her notepad, “You allow me to speak to all your house staff?”

“Feel free.”

He knew Marin wouldn’t dare. She was loyal. The only possibility left—

“And what jewelry is missing?”

He rubbed his chin, “At first glance.. I see some of her bracelets aren’t here. She also has, like, 10 Pateks. I only see 8 here...”

“Is there any way you can provide me with a receipt of every piece of jewelry you’ve bought her since she moved in?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he examined her jewelry further, there was definitely more than he realized missing.

“Yes.” he answered.

22 Tiffany & co. and Graff bracelets. 17 Bvlgari and Cartier necklaces. 12 pairs of crystalline De Beers earrings. 8 diamond encrusted Chopard rings. 5 custom fitted dresses-all fresh off the runway from big fashion houses-4 Birkins and 2 Pateks were missing. Everything totaling up to a cool four million.

His house staff had all been interrogated and searched but nothing came of it—as he predicted. This was not his house staff’s doing.

And it was confirmed when the head of security at their academy reached out stating that a month prior to Ara’s disappearance she had momentarily been inside their security room.

She’d accused someone of stealing something of hers from Gojo’s car and wanted to watch the security footage of the academy parking lot-so they’d allowed her inside the security room to watch the camera footage—but she technically had been able to see all the screens of where the academy’s cameras were placed. He knew she was smart enough to take note of where cameras were lacking if she wanted to.

And she had.

That was why she was able to bypass the cameras on graduation.

She wanted to leave unnoticed. She’d miraculously sold four millions worth of his gifts and disappeared to god knows where.

Because she wanted to leave him.

He stared at her rumpled graduation dress in his hand. The material of it so thin that when rolled up it fit perfectly into his fist. He somehow managed to keep it on him wherever he went in the past few days that she’d been missing.

4 days. 96 hours. 5,760 minutes. 345,601 seconds…

without her.

His stomach lurched. He stepped out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t look to see if Ijichi caught the keys he tossed his way and stalked inside the estate.

He was squeezing her dress in his hand so hard that his fingernails dug into his palm-breaking skin.

He bounded up the steps, barely noticing the maid flinching when he suddenly made it to the top step just as she was about to descend. She quickly scurried out of his way.

He walked down the hallway before shoving the double doors of his room open.

His eyes naturally went to the bed first and for a moment he imagined it. Her sitting there, with a pretty little slip dress on and nothing else. She’d finally grown comfortable wearing slip dresses around the house.

He could picture her feet up in the air as she lay stomach down on the bed, Macbook open in front of her. Her face a mask of concentration.

He could almost feel the soft skin of her throat against his lips—he usually kissed her there first, in greeting. He liked to inhale her sweet yet sophisticated perfume—roses and warm cashmere, before capturing her lips and showing her just how much he missed her.

He blinked, finding himself standing right beside the bed. His hand on the sheets.

Ara nowhere to be seen.

He suddenly yanked the sheets off the bed, tossing it with enough strength that it managed to wrap itself around a lamp and hit the ground with it. The sound of a crash ensued.

He stared at the fallen lamp for a moment. He liked that, that sound. It was satisfying.

He suddenly grabbed the pillows, flinging them across the room, letting them hit anything and everything.

He kicked over a nightstand before spotting one of the loveseats he and Ara used to cuddle on. He picked it up and threw it across the room, hitting the TV and making it instantly fall from its place and crack as it hit the ground.

He spotted her macbook and threw that too. It'd already been thoroughly searched and it led to nothing. NOTHING .

He wasn’t aware of what he was doing, simply moving at will. Things were getting thrown-things were breaking, shattering, sprawling in pieces all over the floor. The sound of everything breaking fueled him and he didn’t want to stop.

He didn’t remember entering the closet but the next thing he knew he was yanking off her clothes from the hangers, shoving open her drawers with enough strength to break it from its hinges and throw it.

He grabbed her shoes and flung them before kicking down her shoe shelf, making the whole thing crumble and fall apart.

He punched the glass of her Birkin wall and threw a Birkin into her accessory stand, making everything spill out and shatter. The sound was deafening.

“Satoru!”

He froze, his whole body tensing for a moment before he closed his eyes—forcing himself to breathe.

“Satoru, what the fuck happened?”

He half-turned, suddenly chuckling rather dryly, “What didn’t happen.”

Geto stopped at his side, staring at the state of the room and closet in horror. He then faced him.

Geto eyed his bloody hands, “What happened?” he whispered.

Satoru glanced down, belatedly noticing his bloody hands himself.

“Answer me.” Geto demanded, “Is she okay?”

“I don't know and I don't care.”

Geto raised a brow, “What?”

He suddenly grabbed Geto’s collar, “She fucking left me, Suguru. She’s worthless.”

Geto shoved his hands off, “The fuck are you on about?”

“She planned this shit. All of it. She sold the gifts I bought her and dipped with the damn money.”

Geto’s eyes widened, “How-how do you know?”

“Detective Rebecca found listings of all her missing stuff on the black market. She posted the items from fake accounts and used different bank accounts for each. She transferred the money to e-gift cards, stocks, digital bank accounts, whole bunch of shit so it’s a fucking maze to track where she deposited the money to.”

He went on, “The fake identities she made to get on the black market all have their own bank accounts. She used their accounts to buy a shit-ton of plane tickets set to depart on the day of and day after graduation. Rebecca’s tryna trace the flights to see if they were used, sold or whatever the fuck but I think it’s all a shitty hoax.”

He seethed out, “She musta known that we were gonna find her fake identities—that’s why she booked so many fuckin’ flights. Tryna lead us on a fake trail while she probably used a whole ‘nother identity to take a flight somewhere else—that’s if she even took a flight.”

Geto was frozen, contemplating all of this.

“And her phone?” Geto asked, “Did you find anything on there?”

He shook his head, “Her phone is dead. They accessed her apple ID through another device but they found nothing. Bitch was thorough.”

Geto instinctively wanted to reprimand him for referring to her as a bitch but if this was all true… he was still too shocked by the revelation.

“She…planned this?”

“For months. right under my nose—fucking slutted herself out to me the entire time.”

He looked at Satoru’s enraged expression, he’d never seen his best friend look like this, even when he ranted about his uncle.

“Do you.. really think she would do all of this?” Geto asked.

“I-“ Gojo’s voice cracked, “It's not about what I think, it’s what she did.”

He slowly shook his head, a mirthless laugh leaving him, “Of course she’d be smart enough to use me.”

He felt like he was on the bad end of a really sick joke. He was so… angry, so angry it made his skin itch. None of the mess he created appeased how twisted he felt inside. It felt like his organs had been ripped out and haphazardly stuffed back in and yet, his mind was still attempting to make his body work despite bleeding out all over the place.

He wanted to make her bleed too. He wanted to make her just as angry—just as used—just as betrayed.

“I'm gonna find her.” he promised lowly.

Geto’s eyes widened at his tone.

“Should I kill her when I find her?” he asked, more to himself than Geto.

“Stop talking nonsense, Satoru. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Really?” he chuckled dryly, “I feel like this is the clearest I’ve thought in a while.”

He glanced down at his bloody hands, outstretching his long, scraped up fingers. He watched a dot of blood trail down his wrist from a cut. He didn’t feel any pain.

“How can you even say that, man. You’d melt like fucking putty if you saw her come running into your arms right now. You love that girl.”

Geto’s voice felt distant. He suddenly remembered a time when he and Ara had been messing around, horse-playing and she’d gotten so annoyed at him that she’d thrown a book at him.

If he’d been looking when she threw it, he definitely would’ve caught it but since he’d just turned around it hit his arm.

It was a paperback book so it wasn’t meant to cause any real damage but somehow the end of the thin plastic cover managed to strike a clean line across his forearm. It truly hadn’t hurt but it bled like it did. The blood almost looked like prop blood.

She’d immediately started apologizing, he wanted to laugh it off but she’d been completely serious when she ran off to get the first aid kit. She’d cleaned up his wound with such gentleness, it shocked him.

He’d just stared at her the entire time, in stupefied silence as she treated him as delicately as an infant, lightly dabbing the endless blood leaking from his wound with cotton balls.

She was focused but her concern was evident in the way her brows subtly furrowed. He could almost see why her father might’ve wanted her to be a doctor. Her jaw was clenched tight as she applied the larger band aid perfectly, covering each bit of the cut.

Once she was done, she sat on the bed beside him, completely still, silent and serious as ever.

“I'm sorry.” she mumbled.

He couldn’t help but crack a grin, “It doesn’t even hurt, baby.”

“Sh.” she shot him a look, “I still don’t like it.”

“Like what?"

“I don't like hurting you.” she snapped.

Something inside him softened.

Her eyes darted away, “Or anyone..” she muttered, correcting herself.

It didn’t matter. his gut had already done this funny little flip flop thing at her words. He grinned despite himself.

“Nah, I heard you the first time~”

You don’t like hurting me, huh? Then what is this?

What is THIS?

He swiveled around, fiercely kicking the remainder of her accessories on the ground. Sending beads, diamonds and broken gold in the air. A heftier one of her chain-link bracelets hit the mirror wall, instantly making it shatter. The sound catastrophic as pieces of glass sprawled across the floor.

The next thing he knew Geto was grabbing him, nearly picking him up as he tried to drag him out the closet. He was saying things but Gojo could barely hear him. His heartbeat too loud as he thrashed fiercely in his hold, still managing to kick his leg out to deliver another lethal blow to her things. More things shattered as he growled.

Geto shoved him out, before closing the closet doors behind them.

“That’s enough—”

“How dare she fucking leave me!” he got all the way up in Suguru’s face, “I gave her everything—everything!” he snarled.

“I gave her my fucking all cuz I love her! She knows I fucking love her. I can't eat, sleep or think without her. She knows it—she’s torturing me.”

Geto’s stoic expression fell. He hated seeing the pain in his eyes, “Sato—“

“She told me she loved me too,” he took a step back, his eyes suddenly distant.

“Was I not supposed to believe her?” he whispered.

He looked down at his reddened hands once more, droplets of blood hitting the floor as he raised them slightly.

It was crazy to think these hands had been on every corner and speck of her skin. Her hair. her lips. her throat, merely days ago. Touching her was as easy as breathing. Her presence was more comforting than being alone. Her eyes were his favorite mirrors.

and now she was just… gone.

He shook his head, “Played me right in front of my face.”

He thought he heard Geto’s voice but he could barely focus on it.

He merely clenched his hands into fists, letting more red droplets hit the ground-at the speed of pounding rain.

“How could she do this to me?” he muttered brokenly.

Finally he felt pain, a rush of it. The feeling of it simmered through his hands and crawled up his arms. Numbing him almost—to the emotional pain he felt inside, but he’d have to die to fully cleanse himself of his internal pain this way.

Suddenly Geto pushed him, drawing him out of his trance.

“Stop it!” Geto was fuming.

His shock transformed into something more cold, “Get out.”

“You need to get a nurs—“

“I SAID GET OUT.”

He never yelled at Geto before. In fact it was typically the opposite.

A tense silence hung in the air.

Geto’s heated glare didn’t budge from Gojo's piercing one. The ring of finality in Gojo’s words seemed to echo.

“Fine.” Geto spat.

He stalked out of the room without a glance back.

Out of the 107 flights she’d booked through her fake identities, 64 were not used, 38 were re-sold and 5 were cancelled.

Rebecca had tracked all of the flight tickets that had gotten re-sold and confirmed them. None of them were her.

Rebecca had informed him of this with regret laced in her tone—as if there was nothing else. No more leads.

But he refused to believe it was over.

It just wasn’t.

All of the flights she’d booked had been from LAX airport. He knew the chances were shit but he had to try. He had to do something—even if it was something as simple as walking around the airport for clues or maybe just to see what she might’ve seen if she’d been here.

The cops had already scoured the cameras of LAX for her but, of course, they found nothing. but he refused to let that stop him.

He entered the airport, the expected packed sight before him. He'd been here several times himself but he’d never entered through the main entrance. He was usually led through a private entrance straight to his jet.

Regardless, a little walk around couldn’t hurt.

He walked around slowly, taking his time to absorb his surroundings. It took him a good 6 hours to walk around the entire LAX in his nonchalant, detailed search.

After purchasing 5 candy bars, 2 coffees and one pack of oreos. He hadn’t found anything. nothing that could lead back to her.

The only places he hadn’t searched were obviously the employee only areas and the women’s bathrooms. The latter bothered him slightly but obviously it was not his place to enter those places.

He just wanted one damn clue. One lead. He needed to find her.

It was dark outside by the time he walked out of the entrance.

As he walked, a homeless man appeared in front of him.

“Please sir, spare some money. Even a dollar would do. Anything, please.”

Gojo was still for a moment. Taking in his reeking, tattered clothes and sad crusted eyes.

The complete opposite of all the people he’d seen within the airport—all the people in there dressed like they were off duty models, as if they had paparazzi waiting to take their airport photos.

He blinked, drawing himself out of his thoughts of the juxtaposition.

He fished a hand into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out five one hundred dollar bills, all the cash he had. He didn’t usually carry cash on him so this guy truly caught him at the right time.

He handed the money to him. The homeless man’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, sir!”

Gojo waved him away, “Spend wisely.”

He nearly snickered at that-he should probably take his own advice.

“I will, I will!” the homeless man skipped away.

“That was nice of you, kid.”

He glanced over to see an officer leaning against a pole nearby. He was bald and appeared to be in his late twenties. His lighter flickered on as he took a puff of his cigarette.

The scent of cigarettes grew stronger the closer he walked to the cop.

“Thanks.” The cop looked just as tired as he felt. He decided a small conversation couldn’t hurt, “Are homeless people even supposed to be out here?”

“Not really but if I were to try stop em they’d just come back the next day. At this point as long as they keep to themselves, we don’t bother em.”

“hm..” Gojo eyed his cigarette curiously.

“But it’s definitely lessened a bit. I bet that guy you just gave cash won't be back. Another one of the regulars left a week ago,” he shook his head, “Lucky bastard found a goddamn diamond ring and planned on pawning it. He’s bound to get a pretty penny for it for sure.”

“Isn’t there some sort of policy against that?”

“I was gonna confiscate it and report him but he said some young girl gave it to him.” he shook his head, “Dunno, if it’s the truth but I decided to let him have it. He obviously needs it more than whoever left it.”

Gojo absentmindedly chewed at the inside of his cheek. He knew this was far fetched but-

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Ara’s promise ring.

“Did the ring look like this by any chance?”

The officer’s eyes widened in recognition, “Yeah! what the- how did y-“

Gojo's entire demeanor changed as he suddenly grabbed the cop by the collar, “Where’s that homeless man?”

“Hey-“ he tried to pull him off but Gojo was taller, stronger, “I-I just told you, I haven’t seen him in a week!”

Gojo manhandled him once more, shaking him, “Do you have any idea where he went?”

“Dunno-I’m assuming the nearest pawn shop? He's homeless so I doubt he’d go any farther than he has to.”

Gojo hastily let him go, glaring all the while. The wicked edge to his eyes capable of making anyone feel smaller than a speck of dust.

“You should be fired.” he said it with such certainty the cop almost felt like he’d gotten fired right then and there, but of course this boy wasn’t capable of that—

But he was. It slowly dawned on him.

He didn't need to know the boy to tell he was of worth and if the ring was related to this boy somehow, he knew he could get in trouble for letting the homeless man go with such a precious item. He could potentially lose his badge depending on how far this kid wanted to take it.

He cleared his throat, “Listen-“

“Do you remember if he said anything about the girl who gave it to him?”

He momentarily froze at being interrupted before shaking his head, “He didn’t say much about her other than that she looked high school aged. I assumed she’s just another rich chick that walks in and out of here on a daily.”

His jaw clenched. He nearly shoved his phone in the officer’s face to show him his lockscreen. It was a picture of her.

“You know this girl?”

He paused, his eyes flickering between Ara’s picture and him, “Yeah.. that’s the girl who’s missing.”

“She's my girlfriend and the owner of that ring.”

“What time was he here?” Detective Rebecca spoke beside him. She’d only allowed him to come with her if he kept his mouth shut—which he agreed to. If the terms would be kept, that was to be decided.

Out of the four pawn shops near the airport that they’d visited, this was the one that finally had what they were looking for. Her ring.

He couldn’t stop staring at it. They’d stored it in a small white cushioned box, much cheaper than the original box it came in.

He was only ever used to seeing it on her finger.

The owner finally stopped flipping through the binder in front of him, “He was here at 3:13 pm, last Tuesday.”

“May I see that?”

The owner turned the binder towards her. She looked it over, “He said his name was Tim Orson?”

“Yes.”

“Did he have any identification for that?”

The owner scratches the back of his bald head, “Not that I can remember..”

She takes a picture of the binder on her phone before turning the binder back to him.

“I'm going to need video footage of when he was here. Can you retrieve that?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker to the camera in the top right corner of the room.

“Yes, yes.” he nods. He glanced behind himself at his worker. He says something in Arabic before the middle school aged boy walks somewhere to the back.

“Is that your son?” she asks.

“My nephew.”

“Does he work here?”

He chuckles awkwardly, “He helps out with the shop sometimes. I never leave him here alone.”

She continues to jot things down on her notepad before saying, “Can you please tell me about your and Tim’s interaction? Did he seem any sort of way?”

The shop-owner scratched his beard, “Hmm.. he was pretty enthusiastic, which makes sense after I saw what he brought in. It took me a while to verify it because-” he laughs awkwardly as if realizing what he was about to say wasn’t quite right, “-I just wasn’t expecting him to have something like that but once I verified it, I gave him an offer and he accepted it right away.”

“How much did you offer?”

“5k.”

Gojo snorted.

Rebecca shot him a look.

“Please—you think that’s worth 5k?” he gestured towards the ring, “Anyone with a brain knows that ring is worth more than 15k off the rip. He undersold it.”

Gojo's gaze slid towards the shop-owner, “What a deal for you, eh?”

Embarrassment instantly sprawled across the shop-owner's face.

Christ. She rubbed her brow before her phone chimed.

She glanced at it, briefly reading it over before turning the phone towards the shop-owner.

“Is this what he looked like?”

Gojo glanced over to see it was an image of a fat man in his fifties.

He nodded, “Yes. That's him.”

“His name is actually Robert Starkey.” she informed him. “You really need to make sure your clients have a proper form of identification before making any sort of exchange with them.”

He avoided eye contact, nodding vigorously, “Y-yes ma’am.”

“Did he say anything about where he got the ring from?” she asked.

“No ma’am. All he said was that it was a gift from a kind young woman.”

Her and Gojo shared a glance before she asked, “Did he say when he received the gift?”

He shook his head.

“Did he say anything else about the girl that gave it to him?”

“He just said that people like her make him remember that they’re still good people in the world.”

Gojo’s brows furrowed as Rebecca further pressed, “Did he explain why?”

“No but… from the way he said it I assumed he was insinuating that whoever gave it to him gave it to him for free.”

Just then the boy reappeared with a cassette tape in hand. The shopkeeper took it from him and handed it to rebecca.

“Here is the footage of when he was here.”

She turned the cassette tape in her hand, “Wow, I haven’t seen these in a while.”

He nods as he mumbled, “We’re a little old school.”

“Is there anything else specific that you remember? Any detail helps.”

“That was all, really. He was barely here for five minutes.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” she handed him her business card, “If you remember anything else please feel free to reach out.”

“Of course.”

Just as she swiftly turned to exit, Gojo caught her arm.

“That's all?”

She blinked, “Yes.. it seems that airport security guy was able to identify our man. Now that we confirmed it, we'll be able to use the cctv’s to see where he went after he left this store. We can track him.”

She pulled her arm out of his, “We need to get back to the station.”

“Hold on.” he stepped towards the shopkeeper. His eyes dropped to the promise ring, “I'd like to purchase my ring back.”

He stood behind Rebecca and the intelligence officer that were seated before him. They all faced the screen.

The intelligence officer, Ray, showed the fast-forwarded footage of Robert walking out of the pawn shop. The CCTV footage was rather blurry but the pep in his step was obvious.

The sped up footage showed him walking for a while before he stopped in front of Hope Homeless shelter. He seemed to pause for a moment outside, as if deliberating whether or not to go in before ultimately going in.

Ray paused the footage, “He walked about an hour and half to get to Hope Homeless shelter. I couldn’t find any more footage of him on the CCTV’s beyond that. He might still be there.”

Rebecca’s brows furrowed, “Interesting. I wonder why he would go there when he has 5K in his pocket.”

“Maybe he owes someone?” Ray theorized.

“Or maybe there’s someone else he wants to share the money with.”

“I know the director of that shelter.” Gojo spoke.

“You do?” Rebecca questioned.

“Not personally but my father did–does. I can get us a meeting with her within the hour.”

Rebecca and Ray shared a look before she looked at him, “Very well.”

They sat in her office. It was rather sparse, minimally decorated, nothing name-brand. His father had donated to this institution plenty of times, as well as other local homeless shelters, but once his Uncle took over… it wasn’t a priority anymore.

As if she’d read his mind, Rebecca asked, “How does your Dad know her?”

He glanced over to see her eyeing the name-plate on the desk. Gabriela Hopkins. Director of Hope Homeless Shelter.

“He used to donate and occasionally volunteer here.”

“A philanthropist, hm?”

“Sort of.”

“Or was it all for show?”

His eyes cut to her. It was a bold accusation to make but not entirely misplaced. Politicians did many things just for the peoples’ eyes.

“No. My mother put him up to it.”

“Why?”

“She grew up poor but she was smart so she got a full-ride scholarship to Stanford.” A pang went through him–him and Ara were supposed to go there, “That’s where my Mom and Dad met.”

The door suddenly opened and Mrs.Hopkins entered. She appeared to be in her early forties. Her black hair was up in an unkempt bun. She held a coffee cup in her hand.

She outstretched her hand to Gojo as he stood, “Satoru Gojo, it’s nice to meet you. I haven’t seen your father in a while. He’s missed here.”

She went on as he shook her hand, “I trust he’s well?”

“Yeah, he’s great.”

Her eyes slid to Rebecca, “And who is this?”

Rebecca faced her, “Detective Rebecca.”

He watched them shake hands as Mrs.Hopkin’s introduced herself, “I’m Gabriela Hopkins.”

“We’re actually here for information. I would’ve reached out to you myself but I figured it might be more efficient to have our link reach out to you instead since-according to your website-you are overlooking all branches of Hope Shelters in Southern California. Is that correct?”

He leaned back in his seat, listening to the conversation despite tapping his foot on the ground incessantly. Rebecca told him she’d let him come along on the same condition-as long as he let her do all the talking. He supposed he couldn’t blame her since his restlessness was starting to show. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept well.

Mrs.Hopkins sat at her desk across from them, “That’s correct. I was recently promoted.”

“Congratulations. How’s that been?”

She lightly shook her coffee cup as she sighed, “Considering that this is my fifth coffee cup of the day, pretty insane.”

Rebecca smiles, “I feel you. Black coffee is my vice.”

Mrs.Hopkins glanced between the two of them, “So what information is it that you’re looking for?”

“Are you familiar with Robert Starkey?” Rebecca asks.

Her eyes lit up in recognition, “I am. He visits occasionally, he used to spend more nights here but not so much recently. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Can you tell me when he was here last?”

“Of course.” she turns to her computer and types in a few things, “He was here last Tuesday, for our dinner service.”

“Dinner service?”

“Some days we offer free dinner packets to the public. The event takes place in our courtyard.”

“Did he stay the night that night?”

“He did not.”

“Do you know how long he was here?”

She shakes her head, “We only jot down the attendees but there’s too many folks that come visit to try to track all of their timings. We do have outdoor surveillance that I could have my security look at.”

“Please do. That would be very helpful.” Rebecca then added, “Did he have any friends here? Anyone he was close to?”

“He used to have a girlfriend here, Vienna, but unfortunately she died of illness. She just didn’t have the means to get the medication she needed. She passed a few years ago.”

“Was he close to any of her friends?”

She shook her head, “Not that I’m aware. He usually keeps to himself. Vienna was the only one he used to speak to before she passed but last we spoke he told me he hangs around by the airport now. I advised him against it but… you know how they can be.”

“Does he have any family he speaks to? Any places he wants to go?”

“If he does, he’s never mentioned it.”

Rebecca nods, pursing her lips. “Well, the reason I ask is because he’s been missing for several days. We’re trying to find him because he might be related to another missing persons case as well.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh my. Has he done something?”

“That's what we’re trying to find out.”

“Well please feel free to look about. I’ll have my security officer provide you with any footage needed. Starkey doesn’t come here much after Vienna passed so there might not be a lot but-”

“That’s alright. Anything helps. Please let your residents and staff know that he is missing and if they know anything about him to let us know.”

“Will do.”

The security guard, Prince, pointed out the blurry man in the video. It was hard to see his face but from what he remembered it was the same clothes Robert Starkey was last seen wearing in the CCTV footage.

There’s a sandwich bag in his hand as he walks off the screen. It’s hard to tell what direction he walked towards with the darkened lighting due to it being night-time. They’d replayed the footage several times. Robert had just taken the sandwich bag from the worker and walked off–not a word to anyone. They’d tried to zoom in and decipher which way he walked towards but it was impossible to tell further than the street he crossed.

Prince stuffs a spoonful of apple sauce in his mouth before saying, “He crosses the street to Thorne St. but that’s just about all you see really.” He states gruffly.

Rebecca returns from her phone call, “Alright, I just told Ray to try retrieve the CCTV footage of Throne St. for that night but it might be a while before he recovers it.”

She raked a hand through her cropped hair before looking at both of them, “It’s safe to say that we are declaring Robert Starkey missing. Someone should come by to drop posters off tomorrow but… we’ll be starting the search for him now.”

“I’m joining the search.” Gojo stated.

“Gojo, I told you the meeting with Mrs.Hopkins was the last thing I’d take you along with. You’re not an investigator. The fact that you’re even here is a breach on my end–”

“An extra pair of eyes can’t hurt during a search.”

“Yes but-”

“Your department’s extra funds are coming from me, aren’t they?”

She stared at him, mouth partially open since he interrupted her.

“I want to see where my money’s going.”

The areas surrounding the homeless shelter were split into four zones. Zone A was where he and Rebecca would be searching-side by side-since Rebecca refused to leave him be. He didn’t understand her issue with him being around when he knew her Director had permissed it.

But she wanted him to go home, eat something and rest. Rest. Ha. Just the thought of it made him want to laugh.

How was he supposed to rest when his home was missing?

He eyed the nearby investigators as he walked. They were all wearing gloves examining things as little as crushed leaves on the ground. This part of town was rather dingy. Cars rarely drove past here. The stench of piss and dust came from a nearby dumpster.

The homes here looked as if they hadn’t been renovated for ages. The people within seemed scared to come out since so many cops were sprawling about. A cop had attempted to go door to door to gather information but it was quickly abandoned when folks refused to open their doors. He could only imagine the things the people living in this neighborhood had seen.

His gaze slid to Rebecca not too far ahead of him. From the tense set of her shoulders he could tell she was stressed. He knew she was anxious about the timing of it all. The last date anyone had any information on Robert was last tuesday. It’s been over a week since then. Any viable evidence hanging around would be hard to find… but not impossible.

It couldn’t be impossible.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that homeless rat had anything to do with Ara’s disappearance. Sure, Ara had planned to leave him but if he found out that rat did anything to her…

A flash of hot white anger piercing through him made him stiffen where he stood. He forced himself to exhale, slowly unclenching his fists in his pockets as he did so.

Relax. Relax. Relax.

It wasn’t working. He was still agitated. A normal person would get whiplash from how quickly anger came to him now. It was always a heartbeat away, ready to boil over and implode. He couldn’t remember if it’d always been like this or if it was just worsening now.

All he knew was that he needed her. He needed her right now.

Rebecca stopped walking mid-step when she noticed him not following her. She quickly turned around, concern etched in her features.

“You okay–”

Suddenly her walkie talkie flared. She quickly pulled it out from her belt to her lips.

“I’m here.”

He couldn’t overhear much due the discombobulated audio but from the way her brows were furrowing it couldn’t be good.

“Alright. I’ll be there.”

“What is it?” he demanded.

“They found him,” despite her words, she appeared disappointed, “In zone 4.”

It didn’t take him long to understand her disappointment.

The man seemed to be laying on the ground at a rather uncomfortable angle. One leg bent awkwardly underneath him, protruding in a way that wasn’t natural for the human body–unless a bone was broken, of course. The back of his head was caved in, he could see the white of his skull at some parts. His lips were cracked and bloody. His face swollen, the welts upon it a deep ugly purple. Something silver and sharp seemed to be poking out of his left eye as well.

The man had been brutalized, that much was clear. Especially with the dark red spot with pieces of skin and hair on the brick wall to their right. Someone had bashed his head repeatedly against it. It didn’t seem like one person did it either, not with the several footprints on the dusty ground surrounding the dark red pool of dried up, crusted blood around the body.

It was pretty clear—crystal fucking clear—that he’d been jumped, robbed and left to die for maggots to have a goddamned feast but where was his clarity? Where were the answers to his fucking questions?

How did you get her ring? Did she give it to you or did you take it from her? Did you ask her what she was doing at the airport? Did she say where she was going? Did she say who gave her that ring? How was she? Was she tearing up like she always is or was she happy—did she smile at you? Did she smile that little half-smile or did she smile with all her pretty pouty lips and teeth? Did you like what you saw? Did you like what she had on? Did you know every square inch of her skin belongs to me? Even the parts you don’t see–her soul, her body, her insides, their all mine—only mine—

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UPPPPP!”

He was shaking him-the dead man. He was so flimsy and smelled like absolute shit. He didn’t care if Robert’s dislocated jaw was swinging every which way or if the maggots on his stabbed eye were falling about. He needed answers. He needed them right. Now.

He was suddenly jostled upwards, his entire body being held back–with multiple hands on him. He thrashed wildly in the cops arms.

“Get the fuck off me and wake him up! WAKE HIM UP!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Rebecca’s shrill voice cut through the hot-blooded fog in his brain.

From the way the vein on her forehead seemed ready to burst, he could tell she’d been yelling for a while–he just couldn’t hear it.

Her derision was palpable, “Do you know what you just did? You messed up a crime scene—a crime scene. That’s tampering with evidence and that’s a felony–do you understand?”

He threw his head back, chuckling as he felt the oppressive California sunlight seep into his pores and make his simmering blood boil more. He shook his head as he faced her, an unprompted smile on his lips, “Am I supposed to care?”

He suddenly thrashed forward—sending the officers holding him back in a disarray as they strained to keep him in their grip, “He’s the last person to see her–who knows anything about her—who knows what he did? He should be glad he’s fuckin’ dead cuz I woulda’ done worse.”

He’d never seen a woman turn pale so fast. Her countenance aghast.

“You're done.” she looked past him, “Get him outta here. Now.”

Gojo was picking up one paper after the other, examining each image with as much care as he could. The image on the top right corner of the file seemed to blur but he quickly blinked it away. He stared at the image once-more, the girl looked nothing like Ara but he swore for a second he thought he saw her image there.

He rubbed his eyes. Am I hallucinating things now? Have I fully lost it?

Suddenly a knock resounded at the door and he glanced up. Suguru was leaning against the doorframe of his study with his arms crossed.

“You're finally home.”

Gojo set the file in his hand down, “I’ve been home.”

“What happened to living and breathing at the police station?”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, “I’m not allowed back there anymore.”

Suguru raised a brow before shaking his head, “I wonder why.”

Suguru stepped into the room, sauntering closer to his desk. His narrow eyes ran over the several boxes in the room before noticing the neatly organized files on his desk.

“What’s all this?”

Gojo leaned back in his seat, “They gave me busy work cuz I told them I still wanna be involved.”

Suguru picked up the file of the woman he’d been looking at earlier, “What’s the assignment?”

“Apparently, LAX has an average of 241,000 people taking flights daily, about 78,000 of them being women. Since it’s pretty much confirmed that Ara was there, they’re having me look at the 77,128 files of women who took flights on the day of our graduation. They want me to let em’ know if any of the girls look like her since according to their identification tech only a few of the girls match her features. They already traced them and confirmed their identities but I want to check for myself.”

Gojo raked his hands through his hair, “I know I could be wasting my time cuz she might’ve altered her ID photo to look nothing like her but…” his fingers tightened in his hair, “I have to do something.”

Suguru’s eyes widened as he noticed the few boxes that were closed up as if he’d already gone through them.

“How many files have you gone through?”

“6,455.”

“The hell?! Is this what you’ve been doing for the past few days?” Suguru demanded.

Gojo frowned–not even sure how long he’d been at this himself.

Suguru’s hand slammed his desk, “Are you sleeping at all?”

Gojo didn’t answer, merely staring at Ara’s promise ring that’d nearly fell off the desk.

“Damn it, Satoru. I hate seeing you like this, really–” he rubbed his brow, “How long are you gonna keep doing this to yourself?”

“As long as it takes.” he answered but he was zoned out—eyes fixed on the ring. It was her ring. He was undoubtedly sure of it. It was her exact size and it had their initials engraved within the band. He even reached out to the jeweler company to inquire if they’d sold that ring with the same customization to anyone else and they hadn’t. It was her ring—their promise.

And she’d just given it away?

“It’s about to be a month..” Suguru’s voice was low, “since she’s been missing.”

The words hit him like a knife slamming into his chest. 3 weeks and 2 days–he wanted to say, but he knew it was meaningless. Suguru was right.

It was almost a month… without her.

How did I let this happen?

“I know you miss her–”

He grit his teeth, “I don’t—”

“Just hear me out.”

He glanced over to see Suguru leaning against his desk, arms crossed, “I know you want to hate her but let’s be real, it’s more than that–and that’s okay. I.. I know how much she meant to you. What you guys had was different, everyone knows it.”

Suguru faced him, “I know you’re doing everything you can but this isn’t good for you. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “I am though–”

Suguru gestured towards the barely touched plate of food on his desk, “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping and you don’t leave the house. This isn’t you.”

He swallowed but his mouth still felt dry. For once, he didn’t know how to respond.

His hands tightened around the armrests of his chair before he glanced up at Suguru.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

Suguru’s expression grew torn at the sight of him, “Let the police handle the rest.”

He shook his head, speaking fast, “They’re still going through the LAX surveillance footage. It’s been weeks and they haven’t got shit. It’s not enough—”

Suguru’s hand suddenly clasped his shoulder, “Stop, Satoru.”

His eyes widened as he stared at the sympathy in Suguru’s eyes.

“Stop torturing yourself like this.”

The words threw him off, leaving him confounded. He spoke slowly, “You think… I’ve lost it?”

He looked conflicted, “No but-”

“You think she’s dead?”

“No but I don’t think she wants to be found.”

His throat tightened. His words came out quiet, “So that’s it then? I should just let her go?”

He shook his head, “It’s out of your hands now. You need to stop living like this. It’s gonna eat you up alive.”

It already is. He wanted to say but he couldn’t find it in himself to speak. It hurt. His words hurt.

He knew she didn’t want to be found—she never wanted him in the first place, until she did. He knew she did. He felt it in the way she looked at him, her gaze had changed. Some part of her had fallen for him, he was sure of it and yet it felt like he was the only one who knew.

Why did you leave me, Ara? Why?

Do you really think you can forget me?

Only he knew how much opening up to him meant to her. Only he knew how much courage it took for her to come to his doorstep that night. Only he knew that relying on other people was a vulnerability to her and yet he’d got her to rely on him anyway. Only he knew that his lips had touched every mole she was insecure about on her body. Only he knew how badly she needed him to ease her after her nightmares in the dark.

Unraveling herself the way she did worked in the long game to outsmart him but some things could never be undone. She’d only gone to such lengths because she knew it too.

you can run, you can hide, but you can never escape being mine.

He barely felt Suguru squeeze his shoulder, “Come on. Let’s get In-n-Out with Shoko.”

He smiled halfheartedly, “Like old times?”

“Like old times.” Suguru repeated.

He looked at his reflection as he adjusted the collar of his suit. He didn’t bother to even try tame his hair.

He’d been dodging his Uncle’s invites to lame old people events the entire summer but he supposed his avoidance had hit its limit. He was required to come to this dinner party. It was commemorating the 70th somethin’ year anniversary of Gojo Industries.

His Uncle had booked out a venue. He knew there was bound to be tons of champagne, hand-shaking, speeches and all that shebang. His Uncle had told him to prepare a speech but he decided he’d just wing it. Everyone was enamored by him anyway.

He reached for his cologne only to freeze when his gaze caught the display stand. It was a two tier stand, the top was for his colognes, the bottom for her perfumes.

His row was completely stuffed with cologne bottles but hers only had a few. She had just started expanding her scent palate before she’d fallen in love with one perfume. He’d been in the store with her when she discovered it. He remembered how wide her eyes had gotten the second she took a whiff from the test strip. It’d been the cutest thing..

He snatched the perfume up faster than the human eye could follow. He threw off the cap and sprayed it in the air before him.

He closed his eyes.

He set the perfume down with a thunk as he laughed. His hands flattening against the bathroom counter as he faced downwards, shaking his head as he laughed uncontrollably.

He couldn’t stop laughing.

He felt like she was right there. He felt like she was right next to him.

He felt her pulse rapidly firing away against his lips. Her nails digging into his shoulders.

“sato—hnnnng—s-slow down. slow down! ngh!”

He nipped at her jaw, adding to the collection of hickeys on her neck. Her scent clouding his mind.

“you can take it.”

He gripped the edge of the bathroom counter as his mind spiraled.

He sucked at the skin in the crook of her shoulder and neck. He tasted her perfume on his tongue.

She shoved him back, “Satoru.”

Her worry evident as she stared up at him, “We’re in school.”

Her eyes darted down the hallway, checking either side before leaning back against the lockers they were hiding behind.

His hand slipped up the back of her thigh, squeezing her ass underneath her skirt uniform. It was just so cute and plump, he couldn’t resist.

She jumped as he kneaded the soft flesh.

He tilted his head, grinning, “Everyone’s in class, kitten~”

One of her hands pressed against his chest while the other pushed at his forearm, “Stop.” she chastised.

His fingers gripped the countertop so hard it hurt.

She squirmed, burying her face in his chest as he kissed a trail up her arm to her wrist, her scent wafting over him.

“That tickles.” her voice raspy with sleep, “I can’t sleep like this.”

He’d just scooped her up-bundled in the blanket and all-from the nearby couch onto his lap.

“You’ll be fine.” He teased.

And he was right because once he resumed reading the lengthy document on his computer, she’d passed out peacefully five minutes in.

He shook his head vigorously, his maniacal laughter subsiding as he raised his head and met his crazed expression in the mirror. His eyes had never looked this lost.

I’m losing my mind.

He pushed himself off the counter. His fingers cramped from how hard he’d been gripping it earlier.

His eyes landed on the perfume bottle once-more. Roses Vanille by Mancera. He was tempted to grab the bottle and throw it—maybe the sound of it breaking would be satisfying.

There wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t think of her.

His emotions always skewed from deep-rooted hatred to an insatiable ache when it came to her. It was always one or the other. Rarely a mix of both. It never got any less unnerving.

He picked up the perfume cap he’d thrown earlier and carefully screwed it back atop the bottle. He set the perfume back on the display.

Despite destroying most of her things in his rage several weeks ago, he’d told Marin to leave the rest of her unscathed stuff untouched.

He stared at himself in the mirror, schooling his emotions.

The one girl who outsmarted him, the only girl who could undo him so quickly.

Everyone thought he was doing better now, slowly coping with her loss—as if he could just become himself again and let her go. He’d answer calmly whenever she was brought up, never letting his facade crack, never letting his possessive thoughts show.

Enjoy yourself now, kitten. I’m never giving up on you.

Go on, keep thinking you got the last laugh.

When I get my hands on you I’m gonna show you just how far I can go.

As if on cue, his phone on the counter rang. Once he saw the contact name the equivalent of a thousand shards of broken glass fusing themselves back together occurred in his mind. Everything sharpened as if his mind had been dunked in ice-water.

A despicable grin spread along his lips, “Hi James~ I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“Uh-yes. Mr. Gojo, I’ve found a match for whom you're looking for.”

Whom? Who says that? A low chuckle slipped out of him as he ran a hand over mouth, “Go on.”

“She’s located in Memphis, Tennessee. She’s going to the University of Memphis in the fall and moved early into her dorm yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m sending you her information now.”

“Please do.”

He ended the call and scrolled through the information James sent. He deftly read her attributes before his eyes landed on her most recent ID photo—her University ID card. It looked… too accurate. It was Ara’s face. His Ara’s face.

Except she had light brown hair, eye-glasses and was majoring in geology? Was that another interest she’d kept hidden to herself?

He quickly called up his private jet’s operator. Once he heard the line pick-up he didn’t wait for him to speak, “Peter! Get ready.”

“Yes, sir. Where to?”

He loosened his tie before tossing it, “We’re goin’ to Memphis.”

The University of Memphis campus had quite a different vibe from all the colleges he’d toured. Of course, all the colleges he’d toured had been mainly Ivy leagues but the place piqued his interest nonetheless.

It was straightforward in its design. Brick buildings with white pillars. Blue tiger-print stripes everywhere to signify their mascot and school colors. Most buildings were walking distance from one another. It was nice.

He couldn’t help but wonder what could make Ara settle here of all places? Was it just because it was far away from him? Just so she could live on unrecognized? Or was there more to it?

He knew she didn’t have any family out here so that was out of the question.

He supposed he’d just have to ask her himself.

He sat on a bench near the university center, hands in his pockets. People watching. Students were already milling about. He could feel the anticipation in the air for school to start.

Suddenly his eyes skirted to a girl exiting the university center building, a few books clutched in her hand, tote bag over her shoulder. He briefly caught a glimpse of her face and recognized her. Penn Yves-her new identity. Ha.

Her hair covered her face as she bent down to search for something in her bag while walking. Had she seen him? It didn’t seem likely since she was still walking in his direction.

He got onto his feet and watched her slowly make her way towards him while shuffling through her bag.

Could she walk any slower?

Anticipation gathered in his veins with each step she took. His fingers aching with that familiar rush he hadn’t felt in so long.

He wanted to see her expression. He wanted to see her eyes dilate in fear?—yes, fear. It’d be back to how it was in their early days most likely. When she’d flinch against his touch and look at him with thinly veiled contempt. Or maybe she’d be so surprised she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. Would she pass out? Ha. That would be funny. Or would she—

Her forehead bumped into chest and she gasped as she stepped back. One of the books in her hand instantly falling to the ground.

Her face raised upto his and he froze.

They had the same skin tone and eye-shape, her lashes were a bit shorter but their lips were also similar. Full and pouty. But his Ara didn’t have any freckles on her cheeks nor was her nose as upturned as this girls.

She pushed her glasses up to her forehead when the sun glared in their reflection and he confirmed it. It wasn’t her.

The anticipation in his gut dulled into something more tumultuous, something dark.

She blinked up at him, seemingly taken aback as she spoke softly, “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

That wasn’t her voice either.

He hid his callous expression by bending down to pick up her book. When he held it out to her he had a pleasant smile on his lips, “Don’t worry about it.”

She was still staring at him, an intrigue in her eyes that he’d seen plenty of times before. He was too in his head to find even a morsel of amusement from it.

She took the book from him, finally breaking eye-contact, “Do you go here?”

“No.”

Her brows drew together, “Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was evident.

That made him chuckle but it rang hollow. Everything felt hollow. He’d been foolish to think it would be that easy. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

Ara was a challenge in and of herself. James would need to do more than just a little homework to find her. If there was anything about Ara, she was thorough. Her escape had proven so.

If he’d known that his little fixation on her would lead him here would he do it all over again?

In a heartbeat.

It’d be easy to chat up this girl, take her out on a date then pretend that the girl before him was his new Ara. It would be so easy he wouldn’t even have to try.

But taking the easy way out was never his style, was it? He’d pick the thrill of the game every time—even if it consumed him in the end.

There was no settling. There was no quitting. There was just a challenge that he had to win.

Ara, when I find you just remember…you started this.

He reached out, touching a strand of her brown hair before speaking quietly, “Have a good semester.”

She watched her hair untwirl itself from his finger as he turned around.

Dublin, Ireland.

It’s been a while since he’d been here. The air always felt so crisp it was refreshing. The bakeries were spectacular too—especially alongside the River Liffey.

He crumpled up the wrapper of his strawberry pistachio tartlet from the Queen of Tarts—no sorry, il Valentino, the cafe rebranded apparently. Regardless, he’d devoured it in two bites. He regretted not getting a second.

He tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can as he walked. It was his first time exploring the Dubh Linn gardens. It was rather gorgeous at sunset.

He slipped his hands in his pockets as a chill breeze swept past. He took his time with each step until he spotted her.

From the back it looked just like her. From her height, her waist length hair down to the shape of her hips—it looked exactly like her. He just needed to see her face.

Her phone was raised to take a picture of the Dublin Castle. He couldn’t blame her, it looked rather magnificent in the dark. It was even more impressive on the inside. Memories of his mother’s friend's wedding flashed through his mind. He remembered making fun of the old age paintings on the walls.

That felt so long ago..

Suddenly she was walking again, her back still to him.

The urge to see her face suddenly pulsed through him. His pace picked up, as well as his heart rate.

He quickly caught up to her and grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around. She turned with a gasp, instantly facing him.

Not her.

Her eyes were the same shape as hers, just slightly lighter in color. Her nose was the same but her lips were the subtlest bit smaller. Her brows were thicker as well.

The similarities were uncanny, but he knew this wasn’t his Ara.

“Who are you?” she asked slowly, a subtle Irish accent to her words.

He let go of her elbow, “Ah, sorry. You look like someone I know.”

She searched his face curiously, “You do too. Are you famous?”

He chuckled dryly, “Not really.”

She looked him up and down, “Do you model?”

“No.”

“You should.”

He gave her a halfhearted smile-trying to focus but his mind was elsewhere, “I’ll think about it.”

“Are you single?”

“No.” he answered-then frowned subtly. He answered almost too quickly, as if it were instinct.

She tilts her head, raising one brow, “You look confused.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Heh, well.. we’re on a break.”

“Damn.” she bites her lower lip, seeming to contemplate something before saying, “I’ve been there.”

He shakes his head, “Is it supposed to be this rough?”

She smiles—it reminds him so much of Ara’s smile his heart began to ache. Ara was always so stingy with her smiles.

“Just be good and I’m sure she’ll take you back.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. It would take me forever to get a face like yours out of my head.”

He exhaled through his nose in humor, “I can’t get her out of my head.”

She hesitates before something seems to click in her eyes. “Do I… look like her?”

He nods.

She laughs, “So you thought I was her when you saw me?”

“..yeah.” he admits.

She laughs again, “Wow.”

Her hair rippled in the wind when a cool breeze passed. “She must be really pretty then.” she adds.

“She is.”

Her eyes twinkle with amusement, “So if I was her, what would you say?”

That was a great question, one that he hadn’t given much thought to just yet. He had a lot to say to her now that he was thinking about it—too much to say maybe, but it was impossible to tell the girl before him any of those things.

He’d save those words for the real deal.

Instead he tilted his head, “I’d tell her I’m taking her home tonight.”

She blushed, a light feminine giggle escaping her lips.

She shook her head, “Nice try.”

He raised his hands to express his innocence, “Wasn’t trying anything, I swear.”

Her eyes narrowed and once-again he was reminded so much of her.

His grin faded, “If I saw her, I really would be taking her home.”

“Mhmm.”

He chuckled.

She had a coy look in her eyes when she took a step back, “Well good luck, with her.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

“Don’t go flirting with her lookalikes either.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She started flirting first but it felt pointless to say. It didn’t even matter because despite all of their similarities and her little flirtatious ways he wasn’t hard-not even in the slightest. He hadn’t gotten hard with the first lookalike either.

She playfully rolled her eyes before turning away. He watched her walk until she left through the garden exit and disappeared onto the street. A cold feeling settling in his gut.

Ara, where are you?

Gojo snaps his fingers, catching Geto’s attention.

Geto glances over, annoyed, “What?”

Gojo’s eyes remained planted on the laptop in front of him as he speedily typed away. “Can you give me my phone?”

He looks over at the charger plugged into the outlet beside him. He reached over and took Gojo’s phone out. His phone flashed open to his lockscreen.

The picture is difficult to make out due to the dim lighting but with enough squinting he’s able to make out that the pic was taken from Gojo’s chin down. Ara is lying comfortably atop his shoulder with her arm sprawled over his chest. She looks fast-asleep but since the blanket just barely covers her waist he can see the outline of her bare breasts pressed against Gojo’s chest.

He reddened before a few text messages notifications began to pop-up on his phone. The contact name for the messages simply one pie emoji.

Geto’s brow furrow, “You got a text.”

Gojo’s eyes don’t leave his laptop, “From who.”

“From pie?”

Gojo immediately snatched the phone out of his hand. He watched Gojo quickly unlock it and stare at his phone with even more focus than the assignment he was working on seconds ago.

“Who’s pie?” Geto asked, confused.

Gojo doesn’t answer, clearly fixed on whatever ‘pie’ was texting him.

“Pie..” Geto muttered to himself as he mulled it over.

Gojo isn’t the type to make someone’s contact name without any significance so he finds himself trying to decode it.

He’s frowning as he glances at Gojo typing away on his phone. He looks completely engrossed. He’d only ever seen him like that when he was texting..

“Is that your private investigator?” he snaps as it clicks.

Private Investigator = PI = pie emoji

Gojo shuts his laptop and slips it in his bag. He swings his backpack over one shoulder as he stands.

“I gotta go.”

“Where?”

He pushes his chair back under their study desk, “To London.”

“What?”

He grins but it doesn’t reach his tired eyes.

“Don’t you have an exam in 20 minutes?”

He shrugs, “I’ll make it up.”

“What?! Satoru—wait!”

“Shhh!” A nearby librarian scolds.

Gojo’s already booked it towards the exit, hastily waving his hand in goodbye as he goes.

She’s shuffling through the books in her cart, completely confused.

Where is it? It was just here.

She bends down to the bottom rack of the cart, deftly reading each title to no avail.

“Where are you?” she mutters to herself.

“Looking for this?” An attractive male voice resounded behind her. There was an American accent to his words.

Her back grazed his chest as she stood. She immediately turned around and backed up.

“Oh-“ she stops mid-sentence at the sight of him. She was already flustered but this… this made her heart rate go staccato.

He was tall—maybe 6’4 or 6’5. His hair was platinum but it didn’t look dyed at all, his light colored lashes proved so. It worked well with his even, pale skin and high cheekbones. But what was even more staggering was the color of his eyes.

They were the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. It was almost alien how spellbinding they were.

But it wasn’t just her that was staring, he was staring too. He was searching her face in a way that didn’t seem sensual. There was a precision to his gaze—rather calculative, like he was studying her.

Then suddenly his gaze closed, all the curiosity coming to a quick abrupt end.

She blinked, taking another step back only to bump into her cart. Crap.

The corner of his lip curled subtly, “Aren’t you at least gonna take a look?”

She glanced down to see a book in his hands—exactly the book she was looking for.

She took it from him, “Thanks.”

She quickly moved further down the shelves to gain some distance from him. It was hard for her to function around pretty people—especially to the degree that he was at. It was already hard being bi and working in a bookstore-pretty girls were everywhere-and now this?

Bah! Get him out of here.

“Sorry I took it from your cart. It looked like an interesting read.”

She found the place in the shelf where the book belonged and shelved it.

“Yeah?” she responded noncommittally.

“Yeah.” he leaned against the bookshelf, crossing his arms as he glanced around, “This is a nice bookstore.”

“It is.” she muttered, avoiding eye-contact at all times as she grabbed another book and climbed the mini-ladder.

“Nerine.” he said slowly, “That’s a flower right?”

She turned around, immediately about to ask him how he knew her name until she remembered she had a name tag on. Please use your brain, Nerine.

But it was odd, not many people knew Nerine was a flower.

She eyed him warily as he ran his thumb over the sides of the pages of a book in his hand. He seemed somewhat entertained by how fast the pages flipped open at the action. That was also another book from her cart.

“That’s a new book.” she spoke more clipped than she intended.

He glanced up, eyes wide, “Oh, sorry. That’ll mess up the pages right?”

Not really. She was just being anal because she liked to treat her books with care but—she pressed her lips together before releasing a short breath.

“Never mind.”

He blinked. He looked like he was near her age. She doubted he was older than eighteen or nineteen.

Since he wasn’t leaving she decided to utilize him, “Can you give me that?” she pointed at another book on the cart.

“Sure!” he instantly set down his book and reached for the one she pointed at.

Suddenly she got the urge to mess with him. She wasn’t sure where it came from-maybe it was because he was so pretty that it was annoying but whatever.

Just as he picked the book up, she said, “Not that one.”

“Oh.” he pointed to the one behind it, “That one?”

“Nope.”

He pointed to the one after that, “This one?”

“Nope.”

He pointed at the book on the opposite end, “This one?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up the book and immediately seemed to notice that it had the same title as the first book he’d picked up. It was just another copy.

He handed it to her with a little smile, “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope.” she answered flatly as she snatched the book from him.

She wanted to laugh at the confusion on his face but it was then that she realized.. he had dark circles underneath his eyes. They were a dull light purplish shade that contrasted quite a bit with his pale skin. She was surprised she didn’t notice it earlier. Boy definitely needs some sleep.

“Do you like working here?” he asked randomly.

Does he really not have anyone else to talk to?

“Yeah.” she answered dryly.

“You probably read a lot, right?”

A lot would be an understatement.

He followed her down the aisle as she pushed her cart, “There’s this book I’m tryna find but I forgot the title-“

“Do you remember the author?”

“No but.. can I tell you what happens in the story and maybe you can help me find it?”

Odd request but “Sure.”

She might actually be able to help him find it with the amount of books she’d read. No genre was a stranger to her—except maybe self-help books. She wasn’t mature enough for that yet. Regardless, with his face she doubted he was reading anything too complicated. If it was a trendy book it’d be easy enough to find.

“So it’s about this girl that gets approached by one of her classmates, she doesn’t really like him that much in the beginning-dunno why-but they stop talking for a bit only for her to go to a party and they end up hooking up.”

This guy is reading a romance? She shoots him a curious glance before continuing to shelf her books.

“Then basically they start hooking up every day after that. She can’t really leave the house much so they mostly hang out at her house and school but sometime later he ends up finding out that her dad is abusive.”

He pauses, “And-erm-he kinda does something about it.”

She raises a brow, facing him, “Like?”

He smiles a bit awkwardly, “He nearly kills her Dad… in front of her.”

Damn! A dark romance? This guy is full of plot twists.

There must be something showing on her face because suddenly he scrambles to say, “But he makes up for it by getting her Dad to a hospital right away, covering the bill and all.”

“Does the Dad know they’re dating?” she asks.

“No but that’s cuz she hid their relationship from him. He’s strict so he doesn’t allow her to date or to go out or-anything really.” he huffed.

“So what happened next?”

“So..” he squints as if trying to remember, “So yeah, she breaks up with him—even though he was only trying to protect her but she’s still mad so.. they end up not talking for two months. Her dad heals up and they get back home from the hospital only for the same shit to happen again.”

She glances up at him again to see a tension defining his jaw that wasn’t there before. He catches her gaze, “Her Dad hits her again.”

“Damn.”

“It was really bad,” he mutters, staring off as if recounting it, “Her body was completely busted up.”

She watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, “Anyway, she goes back to her ex cuz she doesn’t want to live with her Dad anymore. He lets her stay and they end up getting back together and doing a whole bunch of cute shit—even confessing their love. Well, the guy been told her he loved her but it took her a while to say it back, but she did end up saying back.“

She glances at him leaning forward in his seat. It seems he found a stool that was supposed to be used for people too short to reach the top shelves. Regardless, she can’t help but feel the stool looks too tiny for him.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Everything is all fine and dandy until graduation rolls around-“ he then quickly adds, “They’re seniors in high school by the way.”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, “And so on their high school graduation she goes missing.”

“Really?” she asks, shocked.

“For real.”

“Did her Dad kidnap her or something?”

His brows furrow, “Nah, not her Dad but listen-after she goes missing, a few things come out. During their relationship her boyfriend would gift her a lot of things and it turns out before she went missing she sold some of the gifts and raked up a couple million-“

“A couple million?” she questions, completely flabbergasted, “How?”

He pauses, his mouth partially open while he squints-as if unsure why that would be hard to grasp until he realizes, “Oh, her boyfriend’s rich so her gifts weren’t cheap. Birkins, Van cleef, you get it. Anywa-“

“Let me guess, he’s a millionaire.” she rolls her eyes.

He blinks, “Billionaire actually.”

“I hate dark romance books sometimes.” she shakes her head, “Go on.”

“So yeah, now the police concluded that she ran off with the money and disappeared without a trace.”

She watches him lean back in his seat and clasp his hands together in front of himself. He looks at her expectantly.

“Where did she go?” she asks.

He shrugged, “Nobody knows, but more importantly—why would she do that?”

“Do what?”

“Up and leave like that.”

“I..” her brows furrow, “I don’t know. You read the bloody book, not me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a girl. Why would a girl do that? Why would she leave everything behind?”

Her mind raced with possibilities as she mulled it over, “I don’t know.. it could be lots of things. She could’ve been unhappy-“

“But why would she be unhappy? She had her man right there, why didn’t she just tell him?”

“Well maybe she didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe she didn’t like him either.”

“But she did though, she did. She said she loved him.”

“People can say anything.”

He looked exhausted, “I know that but like—“ he pauses, as if seriously contemplating something, “She loves him. He knows it.”

She’s a bit taken aback by the intensity in his gaze but responds anyway, “But does she love him if she sold all his gifts for money?”

He looks at her knowingly, as if he’s already considered this but seems to await the rest of her answer anyway.

She stuffed another book onto the shelf, “Clearly something is bothering her. Generally speaking, girls don’t usually make drastic decisions like that without considering everything involved. She obviously knew what she was doing and who she was hurting in the process.”

He silently considers this for a moment before speaking tentatively, “So.. what do you think of her?”

“Well, she’s wrong for doing her boyfriend like that. He technically did nothing wrong but she used him anyway.”

She shakes her head, “But honestly that’s what makes the least sense in the story, if she really loved him-like your so insistent on-she wouldn’t do that unless she had to.”

“Why would she ever have to?”

“Maybe there was some private family drama she didn't want him to know?” she answers unsurely.

“Her Dad’s her only family.”

“Maybe she has a secret health condition?”

“They lived together for 6 months. He would know if she had a disease.”

She threw her hands up, “Then it’s probably some plot twist! I don’t know.”

He watched her frustration, amused, before continuing to press, “And what do you think would be a good plot twist?”

“If she was a spy that would be hot.”

He laughed.

She shelved another book, “But since it’s a dark romance, they usually keep the plot somewhat linear... I’d say her boyfriend isn't as innocent as he seems. You did say that she didn’t like him in the beginning right?”

“I did.”

“Was it like an enemies to lovers situation?”

“Enemies to lovers?” he questioned, before letting out a short laugh, “Kinda, I suppose.”

She nods, “He also does have a violent streak to almost kill her Dad. What-did he try to shoot him?”

“No, he beat the shit outta him.”

“So a few punches?”

“Pft, no. Damn near broke his jaw, his nose, cracked his skull. Dude almost became a cripple.” An airy chuckle left him, “If she didn’t stop him in time he woulda gouged her Dad’s eyes out with his thumbs.”

“Jesus.” she muttered, “That’s not normal.”

“He was defending her.”

“Yeah but to do all that with your bare hands? It’s giving anger issues.”

He blinked before quickly rebutting, “But if he didn’t jump in, her Dad would’ve hurt her.”

“Okay fine so he’s protective then.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe even overprotective?”

He looked at her intently for a moment before replying, “Maybe..”

She raised a brow, “What do you mean maybe? Was he or was he not?”

He appears resigned, “Yeah.”

She nodded once again, “Maybe that’s it. Maybe it was suffocating for her—maybe he was even violent towards her but she didn’t know what to do because she’s used to violence at home.”

His voice was crisp, “He would never hurt her.”

She shrugged, “He must’ve done something or else I can’t see why she’d leave her billionaire boyfriend alone. She’d be set for life-no, generations with that.”

She snapped her fingers, “She left for revenge. That would be a good plot twist.”

He raises a brow as if intrigued. A smirk seems to play at the end of his lips, “Revenge..” he says the word as if he were tasting it, “How so?”

“She’s getting revenge on all the overbearing men in her life. She left her Dad’s house, which is revenge in itself cuz that’s like a strict parents nightmare. Then she left her overprotective boyfriend, breaking his heart. Now she gets to live on being the cunt that she is.”

“Cunt?” he questions.

She smiles, “It’s a compliment.”

“So you support her then?”

“I support women’s rights and wrongs.” She freezes abruptly before looking at him with a frown, “Hold on, why are you pestering me about all of this? Don't you know why already? You read the book.”

“I left off at the part where she went missing.”

She stands, dusting off her pants as she realizes she completed shelving her cart during the time he took to explain that ‘story’.

“So you decide to fry my brain for theories about the plot?”

He smiles-rather brightly, “Basically.”

He stands up from the stool, “Thank you for the conversation. It was fun.”

“Fun?”

He nods.

She looks at him skeptically, “Well thanks for keeping me entertained while I cleared my cart.”

“Anytime.” he gives her a brief once-over before tilting his head as if realizing something.

“What?”

A slight chuckle escapes him, “I just realized you kinda look like her. The girl from the story.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, same hair and all.”

She’s not quite sure how to respond, “Hm, what a coincidence.”

“Right?”

Revenge.

He chews on the word, as if it’s a bitter candy that he despises the flavor of yet can’t seem to spit out.

It bothers him. It’s been bothering him ever since that girl brought it up.

The Ara he knows is more honest than that though, more straight-laced. She’s the type to think more out of necessity versus revenge.

But then again could he trust his judgment on her anymore? After she managed to manipulate him the way she did?

But was it really manipulation if he knew? He knew she wasn’t comfortable when she first stepped onto his doorstep, when she first slept in his bed. But he watched her, he watched her spread her wings and bloom.

He watched her accept his love and he saw her start to want it. He saw her need it in the way he did.

Which was all he ever wanted. The only fault in his plan was that she got away.

But then there was that stupid word, revenge.

The word that tempted his bleak anger, the roiling waves of betrayal deep in his soul. The word that triggered the voices in the back of his mind to remind him that she wanted him to suffer, wanted him to hurt.

It bothered him because if that was her goal, it was working. He was restless, constantly agitated and barely interested in anything anymore. Everything felt mechanical.

His temper was starting to run less hot—it started to feel cold. Like ice churning in his gut with every memory of her that crossed his mind. He felt it like a thin layer of snow settling on his skin, slowly accumulating overtime.

Is this what you want, Ara?

He tilted his chin up, facing the sky. It felt so close from this vantage point.

Everywhere he looked there was only the sky. The sun setting in the distance painted the vast canvas a multitude of colors. yellow, pale pink, orange, and yet they were all chased away by the indigo blue of night closing in like a veil gliding above the clouds.

A frigid current of air swiftly passed along his face, making his hair flip in the wind and his dress-shirt collar flutter against his neck. It was as if the night sky’s gravitational pull could be felt by him too.

He watched the yellow of the sun disappear, hiding to let noisy LA get bathed in darkness.

It was in darkness after all, where the city thrived the most.

His eyes jolted open when he heard a loud noise. It came from the garage, he was certain of it.

He grunted as he sat up on his bed. He rubbed his head while reaching over to grab his phone from the nightstand with the other. It was 2:05 am.

“Huh?” he exclaimed in confusion when he saw that all his house cameras were disabled. He hadn’t turned any of them off.

He refreshed his app and the results were the same. The cameras were ‘disconnected’.

Suddenly he heard a sound come from downstairs. He instantly shifted in his place on the bed, facing the hallway.

He swore he saw a shadow pass by. It was incredibly fast. He almost questioned if it was a hallucination.

He grabbed his cane and stood up. He’d developed a permanent limp after his altercation with the robber or whatever shit story Ara had told him had happened that night.

He pulled out his gun from his nightstand and limped over. Had that shitty robber decided to come back? He’d have a real nice surprise this time.

He held up the gun with a shaky hand as he entered the hallway.

“EYYY! Who the hell is in my house?” he bellowed, loud enough to echo in the entirety of the house.

He glanced around the hallway, it was empty but it was dark so his eyes couldn’t help but linger on the darker shadows at the ends of the hall.

Suddenly he heard the sound of something fall—in Ara’s room. His eyes widened.

He didn’t think, he lowered his gun and limped over.

He hadn’t entered her room in months but he didn’t hesitate to swing her door open now.

“Ara?” he questioned, his heart swelling with hope—only to feel something harder than steel slam into the side of his head.