Baekhyun wakes up the next morning in a foul mood. “Get me some aspirin,” he groans, clutching his head. “And a glass of water.” Sehun complies, and the detective gulps the tablets down. “What day is it today?”

“Saturday,” Sehun replies, taking the empty glass from Baekhyun.

“Ugh, I promised my boss I would meet with him today.” Baekhyun rolls out of bed, still wearing his clothes from the day before. “Pour me another glass of water?” Sehun walks over to the kitchen sink again and twists the faucet as Baekhyun tries to balance on his two feet.

“You don’t look so good,” Sehun says, noting his guardian’s bloodshot eyes and mussed hair.

“No ,” Baekhyun answers sarcastically, slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses. Sehun hands him the water. “I need to go to work this afternoon. You can occupy yourself for five hours, right? Just study or something.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You know what?” Baekhyun remarks, a strange smile spreading across his face. “I think you’ve changed! You actually do what I tell you to do now.”

“In your dreams,” Sehun counters, and they both laugh.

Sehun hits the books again and it’s like every new fact is a revelation. “That’s called a metaphor?” he muses, scanning the Korean language textbook.

“I’m leaving, you bookworm!” Baekhyun calls from the door.

“Bye,” Sehun replies, preoccupied. The door shuts loudly, and suddenly it hits Sehun. He’s finally alone, across the hall from Baekhyun’s room and, more importantly, his study. He rummages under his bed and comes up with the pack of hairpins. It’s already started to collect dust, just like Sehun’s memories of his past life. He realizes he’s been so caught up with his new situation that he’s completely forgotten his predicament. Why is he here? To sabotage the detective and save his friends. He can’t let himself be distracted.

Slipping off one of the bobby pins, Sehun forces it open, breaking it into two halves. He opens his door cautiously and approaches Baekhyun’s study. Sticking one of the halves into the lock, Sehun bends it to the side, reshaping the pliant piece of metal. He does the same with the other half. All Sehun can hear is the sound of his concentrated breathing as he tries to remember how he used to pick locks.

“I stick this one in the bottom of the lock-” he says to himself, easing the bent metal into the hole. “And this one...” Sehun inserts the other piece into the middle. He gently moves the second piece up and down, side to side, and the lock clicks each time. The sounds echo off the walls of the narrow hallway and Sehun gulps. He tries the door. Still locked.

He tries again, bending the second piece at a different angle. He feels around inside of the lock, pushing components and experimenting with different movements. Click. This one sounds different, like it comes from deeper within the lock. Sehun twists the knob, and it gives. The pieces of metal clatter to the floor, and the door swings open. He’s in.

Baekhyun’s study is a modest room with wooden flooring and cream colored walls. Sehun doesn’t know what he was expecting, but there’s no fireplace or old padded armchair or pipe on his desk. He’s not Sherlock Holmes, after all. But Baekhyun does have the stereotypical heavy mahogany desk with drawers. He also has a file cabinet next to the desk that looks promising. As he reaches out to open a drawer, Sehun hesitates. It feels so wrong, breaking into the detective’s study and searching it. I’m violating his trust, his conscience tells him, but he grasps the handle and pulls it anyway. Files. And lots of them. Sehun flips open the first one, which contains blurry pictures from security cameras clipped to documents about a robbery. Wrong case.

He paws through the files for a good ten minutes until he finally finds one with the news clipping Baekhyun showed him in the hospital. The whole middle drawer turns out to be devoted to the murdered CEO. Sehun skims the case summary and sorts through the evidence.

“He’s almost got it,” Sehun whispers, “All he needs is... my story.” He recalls what Luna told Kai and him about Baekhyun- This is his last chance. If he can’t solve this, he’ll get fired.

A new wave of guilt washes over Sehun and he tucks away all the files, closing the drawer. He can’t do this. There’s nothing to sabotage. Baekhyun’s probably already memorized every detail about the case, judging from the amount of time he’s spent agonizing over it.

Sehun locks the door to the study behind him and throws the bent halves of the bobby pin into the wastebasket. He collapses onto his bed and turns to face the window. He thinks about Baekhyun. He puts on airs as a detective, but really, who is he? A twenty-two-year-old newbie scared of losing his job. A fun-loving but passionate young man who would even take a suspect into his own home for a case. A terrible driver with a giant crush on his best friend and work partner. An independent being who won’t let down his guard unless he’s completely drunk.

Sehun realizes Baekhyun isn’t so bad, as detectives go. He might even like him.

“Maybe it’s time,” he murmurs. “Time to tell the truth.”

When Baekhyun comes home, Sehun is waiting for him at the dining room table. “What are you doing?” the detective asks, confused. He still has his sunglasses on even though it’s cloudy.

“Sit down,” Sehun responds, and Baekhyun sits. “I’m ready to tell you what I know.”

Baekhyun takes his glasses off and his eyes are sparkling. “This better not be a joke,” he says, tone suddenly serious.

“It’s not.”

Baekhyun pulls out a notepad and a tape recorder, and Sehun begins his story.

~~~

“Thank you, Sehun,” Baekhyun ends the recording and stands up from the dining table. “You just gave me the missing piece to the puzzle.”