The following days crawl by for Jongin. After bugging Luhan incessantly for the first few – which earned him a rather amused but frustrated chastisement – he tries to focus on his work and his relationship with Sunyoung instead of the possibly cold trail to Kyungsoo. He finds it nearly impossible.

He’s sitting at his desk, working on an assignment that normally he would find interesting – more so than the busywork the Chief had given him when he first started working at the precinct. Now he has to rep-type the same sentence half a dozen times because he makes so many mistakes with his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Kyungsoo and the possible suicide note he’d found in the time capsule. He’s wondering how Kyungsoo killed himself when Luhan bursts into his office, so unexpectedly that Jongin jumps and nearly falls out of his chair.

“So I’ve been going over the note at home with Yixing,” Luhan says, not even seeming to notice Jongin clutching onto the armrests of his chair for dear life. “And I haven’t really been able to make much headway but I think Yixing is onto something. Do you want to come over after work tonight to look at it?”

Sunyoung had asked him to go to dinner with some of her friends who had recently become engaged – perhaps a not so subtle hint that she wants to do the same – but this takes more priority over a dinner. “Of course!” he exclaims.

Luhan grins. “Good. I think you’ll like Yixing’s theory.”

Sunyoung is a lot less excited about Jongin’s unexpected plans than he is. “But you promised, Jongin!” she whines into the phone, sounding both exasperated and annoyed. “I told you about this dinner a week ago!”

“I’m sorry, Sunyoung,” he says, even though he’s not really at all sorry. “Something work-related came up. Something important.”

“What?” she demands crossly. “What on earth is so important that you have to break plans with me after work hours?”

“We’re working on a cold case,” Jongin says evasively – it’s not even really a lie. “I think we’ve come across some new evidence that might help us close the case. It’s really important, Sunyoung. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

She doesn’t sound like she believes him, but Jongin can’t really blame her. He’s been pulling this crap a lot lately and he knows it, but he doesn’t know another way to go about it.

“Whatever,” she says shortly. “I’ll just ask Jungsoo to go with me.”

Jongin inwardly cringes. Jungsoo had been Sunyoung’s boyfriend in university and, even though they had broken up long before Jongin came along, they’re still on good terms. She only ever brings Jungsoo up when she wants to piss Jongin off, and she’s doing a good job of it at the moment.

“Can’t we just go another time?” he asks plaintively.

“No, Jongin, we can’t,” Sunyoung snaps. “We’ve had these plans for a while now. I can’t just reschedule. Have fun with your work.” And she hangs up on him.

Jongin sighs and drops his phone back onto his desk, but his irritation is short-lived. He can’t wait to hear what Yixing has for him.

Yixing greets him and Luhan at the door of their apartment wearing a paint-stained shirt and a pair of glasses that make him look alarmingly scholarly.

“Good, you’re here,” he says, standing aside and letting them inside. He very pointedly checks out Jongin’s – earning a smack upside the head from Luhan – and leads the way into the living room.

There are thick books spread out across the coffee table – books on English literature, on literary criticism, on the old English language. It looks like Yixing has really been doing his research here.

“Have a seat,” Yixing offers, handing Jongin a brandy. “I’m sure you’re very anxious to hear my idea.”

Jongin accepts the drink with a wry smile. “Anxious might be a bit of an understatement.”

Yixing flashes a smile, his dimples popping out. “I’ll get right to the point then. I don’t think your friend committed suicide.”

Jongin is a little taken aback – but definitely pleased – by Yixing’s assessment. “Why do you think that?”

Yixing pulls a book towards him, holding the laminated copy of Kyungsoo’s letter in his hand. “This letter quotes pretty extensively from “In Memoriam,” by Tennyson. ‘The time draws near the birth of Christ; The moon is hid, the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill; Answer each other in the mist. Four voices of four hamlets round; From far and near, on mead and moor; Swell out and fail, as if a door; Were shut between me and the sound.’”

“Yeah, I know that part,” Jongin says, trying not to sound impatient. “But what does it mean?”

“I think the bit about not wanting to live anymore is to throw off anyone who might have found the letter before you did,” Yixing says, pushing his glasses higher up his nose. “I think ‘as if a door were shut between me and the sound’ implies a metaphorical door that he’s putting in place between you and himself. I think that he couldn’t handle being rejected by you, so he put both a metaphorical and physical door between the two of you.”

“You’re saying you think he ran away and pretended to kill himself because he couldn’t handle the fact that I wouldn’t accept his feelings?” Jongin asks thickly.

Yixing sits back, pursing his lips. “Yeah, that’s what I think.”

“Does that even make sense?” Jongin demands, draining his glass for lack of something better to do with his trembling hands. “If he wanted to distance himself from me, why would he even leave the letter for me?”

“Because I don’t think he really wanted to distance himself from you,” Yixing says. “I think this letter is sort of like a clue, if only you’re willing to look deep enough. Like, if you read the letter and assumed he’d killed himself, then you need never be any the wiser. But if you cared enough to look, he’s telling you that he didn’t, in fact, commit suicide. That he’s still out there somewhere, and I think there are clues in this letter telling you where you might find him.”

Jongin hardly dares hope. “This letter is ten years old, Yixing. Even if what you’re saying is true – if this really is a guide to wherever he ran off to – what makes you think he’s still there? Or if he didn’t…you know…along the way.”

“Ten years is a long time,” Yixing admits. “Who knows what could’ve happened between then and now. The point is, you’re never going to be able to live with yourself if you don’t follow this lead. I could be wrong, of course, but I could be right. I already know you, Jongin. You’ll beat yourself up over this until you know for sure. And even if your friend isn’t still there when you get there, you might find another lead as to where he is now.”

“But how am I even going to figure out where this supposed place even is?” Jongin demands, frustrated. “I haven’t got the slightest idea where this place could be. I was never very interested in Tennyson.”

Yixing purses his lips and shares a look with Luhan, who has been leaning over the back of the sofa all this time. “Honestly, we’ve been over and over it ourselves and haven’t come up with . We may have to ask some people to see if they’ve got any ideas. Luhan mentioned that there are some other people at the precinct who are helping you, right? Would it be okay if we asked them?” 

So Sunyoung is pissed at Jongin for being a lackluster boyfriend and Yixing thinks that Kyungsoo didn't kill himself. Yay for /veryslight/ story progression!

Also, sorry for the long wait for such a short chapter :/ the next chapter will be a bit more exciting haha and I'll try to update again soon!

To placate all of you, have some pictures from my engagement photoshoot :)