Jongin sits at his desk. There’s a report open on the screen, but he hasn’t even attempted to work on it. In fact, he hasn’t attempted to do anything for three days now, ever since he and Victoria returned from Jindo.

He feels numb, empty. He keeps replaying the scene at Ms. Park’s house over and over in his mind, wondering what he could have said or done differently to produce a different outcome.

“He’s just gone on a trip for a few days,” Ms. Park had said.

Jongin had dropped the picture frame he’d still been holding, the glass shattering. “W-what?” he had demanded.

“Well, Kyungsoo lives here with me, of course,” Ms. Park had said, as though it was the most obvious thing ever. “Has for about ten years now. He showed up on my doorstep with questions about his mother, and, since he didn’t seem to have anywhere to go, I invited him to stay with me. We’re family, after all.”

Jongin had jumped to his feet, nearly cutting himself on broken glass. “He lives here?” he had shouted, his heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. “He’s alive and he lives here? He’s okay?”

It must have been his outburst, he’s sure of it now. Ms. Park had recoiled at his loud voice and manic expression. “I’m sorry,” she’d said, putting her teacup down with a trembling hand. “I think I’ve said too much. I think you ought to leave now.”

“Leave?!” Jongin had shouted, and Ms. Park had physically shrunk back from him. “I’ve spent so long looking for him! I can’t leave now! Not when I’m so close!”

Ms. Park had looked really frightened then, and she’d reached for the phone as if to call the police.

Victoria had quickly taken control of the situation. “I’m so sorry about this,” she’d apologized, taking Jongin’s arm and dragging him toward the front door. “Thank you so much for your time, Ms. Park.” She’d grabbed both their shoes dragged Jongin out into the waiting taxi.

Jongin was sobbing by the time the car door closed behind them, his emotions a total mess.

It has been days since then. He’d wanted to stay there, to camp outside Ms. Park’s house until she relented to let him in again or until Kyungsoo came home, whichever came first, but Victoria had talked him out of it. He’s already been in enough trouble with the law; anything more and he might really lose his job and ruin his life even more. Still, part of him thinks that anything would be worth it if he gets to see Kyungsoo again.

He raises his hands to his keyboard, trying to force himself to work on the report, but then he lets them fall back into his lap again. Working is out of the question. He hasn’t been able to do much of anything since that day. He hasn’t slept at all. He’s hardly eaten. He only showered because Jongdae made him.

The door opens and he jumps; he’s extra jumpy these days. It’s Luhan, bearing a steaming cup of coffee and an understanding smile.

“I brought this for you,” he says, setting the coffee on the cluttered desk because he knows Jongin won’t lift his hand to accept it. “How are you holding up?”

Jongin gives him a flat look. “How do you think I’m holding up?”

“Cheer up, buddy,” Luhan says, perching himself on the edge of the desk. “He’s alive. You know that for a fact now.”

“Yeah,” Jongin says with a heavy sigh. “And I’m so glad. But what if he hates me? What if he blames me for everything? What if-”

He’s interrupted by the ringing of the telephone; he jumps at the noise, but makes no move to answer it.

Rolling his eyes, Luhan shoves aside some papers and answers the telephone. “Detective Kim’s office,” he says.

There’s a pause while the person on the line says something, and then Luhan glances over at Jongin, who is staring glassy-eyed at his computer screen again. “I’m sorry, but Detective Kim can’t come to the phone at the moment. May I ask who’s calling?”

Another pause, and then Luhan’s eyes widen suddenly. “Uh, hold on just a second.” He holds out the phone to Jongin.

Jongin waves it aside irritably. “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he mutters. “Make up some excuse.”

“Jongin, you need to take this call,” Luhan says seriously, giving the phone a little shake.

Jongin groans. “If it’s the Chief, you can tell him to shove it. I honestly don’t even care anymore and-”

“Jongin!” Luhan says sharply, and it’s enough to shut Jongin up. “Take the goddamn call.”

Jongin frowns at him, but accepts the receiver. “Hello, Detective Kim speaking,” he says.

Nobody answers; there’s just the sound of heavy breathing on the line.

Jongin’s frown deepens. “Hello?” he repeats, a bit louder.

“J-jongin?” the quiet, timid voice says uncertainly. “It’s…Kyungsoo.”

Sorry it's so short!

Just one more chapter to go!