Short Stories: K Interrupts Officer Wheeler and the Detective in the Hallway [Chapter 1: K's POV] [Kyle Version]

Murder, right at the station... Kyle buries his hand in his hair, attempting to focus on the discussion in the briefing room.

He doesn't know what disturbs him most: the fact that it happened right under their noses, so quiet and organized that no one saw anything, or that it occurred in the detective's office.

With a tired sigh, Kyle leans back in his chair, lifting his eyes to the ceiling, while the lively arguments between the captains blur into the background. Focus. Think. What to do, how to proceed?

"We'll discuss it when we have more information. Everyone, dismissed," Nash says in a tone that dissuades any further objections, pulling Kyle out of his thoughts. The room fills with the sound of shuffling chairs and quiet conversations between the captains as they leave, and Kyle rises from his chair as well, rubbing his neck.

The detective was supposed to be at the briefing too, but when everything happened, they were already off shift. He informed the captains that he would contact the detective himself, asking them to return to the station.

He'd never admit to himself the relief he felt when he heard the detective's concerned 'yes?' on the phone, telling him they were fine.

Because he had reason to be worried. A body in a detective's office could mean anything: a threat, a warning, a hint that the detective would be next... The thought makes the blood in his veins run cold, and he shrugs his shoulders, trying to shake off the occasional anxiety.

"Kyle," Chief's voice makes him pause. "Tell Surname to come see me when they're done," he orders without looking at him.

"Understood," Kyle says, heading out without waiting to be dismissed.

Pulling out his phone, he checks the time and curses under his breath. Due to the captains' arguments over what happened, the briefing went longer than usual. The detective should be waiting for him in his office by now.

He presses his lips together, continuing to walk to his office faster. He needs to see the detective to ensure that they're okay and to know that

He shakes his head. He needs to find out what they've learned and then think about how to proceed.

Arriving at his office, a knot of worry tightened in his chest. As he pushes open the door, the sight of his empty office only serves to deepen that sense of unease, making his anxiety overwhelm his every thought.

Fuck.

He doesn't even bother to put the clipboard he's been holding the entire time on the desk; his body seems to be moving on autopilot toward the detective's office, where the murder was committed.

Where the hell is Surname? Did they even make it to the station? He clenches his jaw as his thoughts continue to run through worst-case scenarios, preventing him from thinking rationally, but he doesn't care. He needs to make sure everything's okay. He needs to see them. He needs to—

His train of thought is interrupted as he turns into yet another hallway. His body almost immediately goes limp as he spots the detective, their gazes lock.

The relief he feels from just a second of feeling the detective's tired gaze on him is quickly replaced by irritation when he sees the presumable reason why the detective is late.

"Surname, why the hell are you still here?! I was waiting for you with the report half an hour ago!" he says with a raised voice, hating the ease with which anything related to the detective arouses such a storm of emotion within him.

It's all because the murder happened in their office, Kyle tells himself, but his heart skips a heavy beat when their gazes lock again. There's no other reason—

"I was on my way," the detective says after a brief pause, shifting their gaze to the officer standing next to them, then back to him.

There's a flicker of subtle discomfort in the detective's eyes, and when Kyle shifts his gaze to Officer Wheeler, noticing his flushed face, a cold surge of emotion he can't quite name spreads through his body like poison.

"Officer Wheeler." He spells the officer's surname, not bothering to hide his stirring irritation.

"Sir!" He straightens up and salutes, holding his chin high. Kyle casts him a glance, ignoring the officer's greeting, wondering only about one thing: why the hell is he so angry?

He frowns harder, instead asking, "Where is your partner?"

The officer's face becomes paler, and for some reason, this reaction makes whatever he felt earlier appear to be… fulfilled?

"I was about to catch up with him, sir!"

"Were you?" Kyle asks, not believing a word of it, and the officer quickly nods more times than necessary. "How about you hurry up, then?"

He practically berates himself for this behavior, but when instead of answering, the officer shifts his gaze back to the detective, he feels such a surge of cold anger that makes all thoughts shut down.

"What's wrong, Officer?" He asks, taking a step closer to the officer. "Can't handle finding your partner without the detective's help?"

With a nervous muttering of denial, the officer salutes and marches away, leaving Kyle with a relief that feels bitter but still makes the tension fall off his shoulders.

He had no reason to react so harshly. He knows it, but... Memories of their locked gazes and Officer Wheeler's flushed face instantly bring up the worst in him. Fuck. All because of—

"Surname." He returns his attention to the detective again, gesturing for them to follow.

Feeling the detective trail close behind, the question seems to come out of him on its own, as well as the irritated tone of his voice, which betrays his real emotions when he asks, "Is that why you are late? I don't remember you having a babysitting line in your list of responsibilities."

There's a second's silence, and he internally scolds himself for saying something before he thinks about it, but words aren't something he can take back.

"It wasn't my intention," the detective says with a tense voice that immediately softens him, causing him to cast the detective a glance.

The next words fly out of his lips before he can swallow them. "I noticed."

He quickly looks away from the detective, trying to suppress the heat rising to his face. But unlike his previous words, he meant what he said.

Kyle starts to walk faster, wishing to hide all that storm of emotion, hoping to escape from the power that the detective has over him.

But no matter how hard he tries to suppress it, the detective's footsteps echo the beating of his heart, whispering to him a craved and terrifying certainty: It's already too late for that.