25^th March 2013, Monday

11:18 pm

A clap of thunder, a fission of lightning quaked through the dark night sky. The thundering of rain pelting outside drowned out the sound of the soft music playing from the stereo.

“Sir,” Tao says, right fist politely knocking on the door before stepping into the office, thick brown envelope with an official “CONFIDENTIAL” stamp printed on it tucked under his left arm.  The office is small but warm. A mahogany table sits in the middle of the room. Files and folders neatly arranged at the side. A quaint coffee machine sits at the far end of the room beside a small two-seater leather sofa. A glass cabinet with some books and a few medals is tucked at the other end of the room. Tall primly polished windows line the entire length of the room behind the table, velet red curtains drawn to reveal the desolate thunderstorm raging outside. A plate reading: Head Detective sits on the table, before the file of criminal records. A table lamp switched on, light rays beaming onto a frowning Head Detective, elbows propped on the table, eyes fixed on the laptop screen, brows furrowed.

“The reports of the autopsy are here, Sir.”

“Thanks Tao,” Kris says, finally looking up from his laptop. Tao nods grimly, placing the envelope onto the tables. He stands in front of the desk, looking at his superior before nodding again and turns to leave, shoulder heavy with the burden of the case. He thinks that Kris looks pretty burdened too, but then again, almost the entire detective department looks drained out; even Jongdae the usual cheerful one with an entire set of practical jokes up his sleeve. They haven’t had a murder case to deal with for the past decade, and judging by the frowns and grim atmosphere of the entire department on the very first day of the start of investigation, this was certainly not a good sign.

“Tao,” Kris calls, clicking his pen, one hand working to open the brown envelope, retrieving a thick wad of crisp documents.

“Yes, sir,”

“Report in by tomorrow, 8am sharp, no delays,”

“Yes, sir,”

“Sleep well,” the low baritone voice says before he dismisses the younger with a sharp nod of his head, tired hands brushing the bangs out of his eyes.

***

25^th March 2013, Monday

1:30 pm

This, Minseok thinks, this is exactly what he hates most about murder cases. The part when the troop of detectives has to personally go over to the deceased house and inform their parents or next-of-kin. Miseok hates this, he hates being the messenger of grief, he hates having to be the one who says the words that knock the air out of the other party. He hates having to see the effect of his words take immediate effect, tears, wailing, crashing flower vases. He hates seeing the other party unraveling before him, hates seeing the other party’s world crumble into rubble as every word he speaks stabs them right in their gut.

Mr and Mrs Park’s reactions are no different from the rest of the people he had to deliver bad news too. Strangled cries, trembling fingers digging into one another’s increasingly pallid skin, hot tears spilling out, throats wracked with cries of pain. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” Minseok says, offering the crying woman a tissue, “we’re working hard to find the murderer and bring justice to your son,” except, his words don’t have any effect at all at the couple. Minseok can see their hearts shattering, crumbling, and disintegrating in front of him.

Mr and Mrs Park’s reactions are no different from the other receivers of bad news, except this time, they aren’t being told that their son was in an unfortunate car accident, they aren’t being told that their son was in a freak accident involving a lollipop and a unleashed dog, they aren’t being told that their son was over-exhausted, this time, it was murder. Vindictive, planned, purposeful. This time, it wasn’t an accident that snatched their world away, it was a manipulative planned event, and this, Minseok thinks, is the worst of the lot.
 

It’s hard to deliver bad news, but it’s even harder to request for permission to snoop into their son, their deceased son’s belongings right after. Mrs Park’s cries are ripping as Kris snaps on his surgical gloves, gently opening the drawers and cabinets in the small room. The room is painted sky blue, with a quaint window sitting above the bed. The bed is neatly made with a huge Pikachu plush toy propped against the folded blankets. A large stereo and stacks of albums sits on the table. A book lies on the table, opened, almost as if Chanyeol had just been in a midst of reading at it and would be back in the evening to finish it. 

A brown A4 sized notebook, torn at the sides, a simple ‘park chan yeol’ scribbed on the front.

A black wallet with wads of receipts and two ten dollar bills and a bus card inside.

A Samsung S4.

A white Acer laptop.

Kris grimly slips the items into the ziplock bag Tao holds up with his hands. Minseok is left comforting the trembling woman that they would definitely return these items once the investigation is over.

“Chanyeol,” Mrs Park, whimpers, not really paying attention anymore as the detectives continue to search his room, her fingers digging into her husband’s checkered shirt, nose ruddy, cheeks stained with mucus and tears, “my precious baby boy, Chanyeol.”

They leave the house at 3:04 pm and Minseok is more than drained. He wonders why he had even decided to be in this line when Kris’ big hands land on his tiny shoulders and give one, two, three comforting squeezes.

“Good job, Minseok,” he says, smile grim, eyes saying, it must have been hard for you.

Minseok shrugs, blowing a raspberry, wanting nothing more than to slip back into the office and wash his face with cold water.

***

25^th March 2013, Monday

6pm

Dinner is a quiet affair with nothing but the clanking of utensils and slurping of cup noodles. Kris finishes his meal first and stands up, nodding at the rest.

Work hard, his furrowed brows says and he’s off, back into his office.

Jongdae, the fellow junior detective sighs and pats Tao on the shoulder. The duo clear the table and trudge back to their adjacent desks.

Jongdae inquires how the afternoon with the parents went and Tao pulls a face, “horrible experience, I don’t understand how Minseok manages it.” There is silence soon after as the duo switch on their computers and get immersed into the information. Narrowed eyes, clicking mouses, minds whirring with concentration.

“Have you gotten anything on Pathlight Academy yet,” Tao says after an hour and half of silence and Jongdae nods, “quite a fair bit, and this is probably going to be a real special case, if you ask me.”

“Why,” Tao deapans, knuckles cracking as he logs onto the database, neck terribly sore and cramped.

“Because,” Jongdae swivels in his seat, coming face to face with the taller male, eyes boring into the other's eye-bagged ones, “Pathlight Academy is a special school for the Autistic.”

--

whoa, 40 subs already? thank you guys! No Kyungsoo/Kai scenes here, but here's more of detective! kris/toa/chen/minseok! Comments are absolutely loved, thank you for reading <3