Paint the town blue

Chapter I

My name is Charles Leclerc, and I'm still serving as a police detective - still young, but already broken-down by my own stupidity. My boss, Frederic, didn't let me leave my job in the police department after my first big case, and honestly I'm really grateful for that. If it wasn't for him, what would I be now? Reclusive? Working in a some deserted place ? Or I'd break bad and the devil know how I'd end? But now I still have a job, and I hate to admit it, but I know for sure that I'm being watched. Frederick is still worried about my condition after the case of so-called "The Ribbon Killer", what a stupid name, and all my efforts to convince him that I'm perfectly fine are meaningless.

But he wasn't the only one who became my "supervisor" or how I prefer to call them - "nannies". Liam, Estie, Logan and Yuki also kept an eye on me. I remember that at first I was upset about it, even kinda angry, and now I just live my life and don't mind all the attention they are paying to my person.

I even started to gradually stop thinking about Ma...my former partner. Liam kept saying that until I got rid of everything that reminded me of him, I couldn't fully let him go. But how can I get rid of everything when even my own reflection reminds me of him? Yeah, I threw away the key with the keychains on them, where our initials were engraved. Yes, I threw out his few things that were accidentally left in my house, like a sweatshirt he forgot after watching a movie and talking about French lovers. But how can I "throw" the memories of the kisses he left on my neck? The goosebumps that ran through your body from his touch? The sound of his hoarse voice or ringing laughter? No matter how hard I try to forget all this, but every time I look at my reflection, I still think of him.

If it wasn't for Yuki, I'd be out of my mind and I'd be looking for the information about where he's being held, and I'd be off to see him for a minute. But thanks to my neighbor and his ability to "fix my brain", I didn't do any of it. In fact, I didn't delete all the photos and messages from him from my phone, which my friend insisted on. I told him that I had deleted everything, and even showed him my phone as proof, and he was glad when he didn't find anything that could remind me of my ex. He didn't find anything because I hid it. Just like six months ago, I'm still not ready to "delete" him from my life. Even with all the terrible things he's done, I can't let him go.

Liam advised me to start therapy, and I agreed with his suggestion without any questions. I found a doctor, I had all the sessions scheduled for a long time in advance, so now, besides Yuki and Liam, I have another person to whom I can cry about my "hard life". Although, to be honest, I was no longer drawn to revelations with Liam. At first, I even felt sorry for my therapist, because he hardly met with such roller coasters, but with each subsequent session Valtteri managed to get me to talk better, and I opened up to him more and more emotionally. I told him everything, without hiding any details, trying not to miss any events. I told him everything except that I still keep correspondence with my ex and that I received an envelope with a sticker with a sloppy heart in it.

I still remember how my hands trembled when I took that sticker out of the envelope, and how my heart ached at the sight of such a familiar drawing. Was I scared? No. Was I worried? No. Was it painful for me? More likely yes than no. Would I like to immediately find the address where he is being held and go to Ma... to him? Yes. I wanted to snap again, like the time Yuki stopped me, but this time my composure and, probably, the remnants of my mind prevented me from this stupid action.

I hid that sticker under my phone case so that no one would see it and ask unnecessary questions, and immediately put the envelope without a return address through the shredder. But sometimes at night, when unbearable longing came over me, I'd take it out, hold it in my hands and just look at it. I looked at how I once looked at the ceiling of my room. Only the curlicues on the ceiling have long lost all interest for me, but the sloppy heart...I don't know how I manage to pretend at work and at home that everything is fine and that I haven't become more nervous lately. Although, maybe I'm doing a damn bad job of it, since Frederic literally put me under the supervision of two experts and a profiler? Not to mention the domestic samurai, who for sure has noticed that something isn't right with me.