In Love With My Mobster Best Friend (mxmxm)

THIRTY-NINE: FOOL

Media: Say You Won't Let Go - James Arthur

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Coe's POV

I stared at the edge of the yellowing white paper corners stacked into a fan before me. The numbers that littered across the first page seemed haphazard and of no pattern, but if one knew how to decode them, they'd understand the coding system and could retrieve valuable, privileged information that can be extremely advantageous.

I traced the string of numbers closest to the bottom left of the page, the scribbles starts out with much force against the paper, bolding the font until it tapers off to a light scratch. I shook my head, knowing that this one was written very hastily. Almost like an afterthought. It might not be a very crucial number, but still, I needed to process it. I frowned, examining the reference sheet that I had created so far in my own hand, scanning them and making small notes as I went along decoding the numbers.

"Take a break, Coe."

I gasped as I jumped slightly in my seat, not realising that someone had entered the room at all in my focus.

"Heath, you scared me." I breathed, steadying myself before I lifted my gaze from the page at my lover, "Is the meeting over?" I asked, my hands coming up to my neck to massage it when I realised how long I've been hunched over the papers without break.

Heath nodded, striding towards me, his face worn, "Yes, mostly. Have you been at it all these while?" He gestured to the stack of papers on the desk as he rounded around the desk I was seated at.

I sighed, tilting my head as I dug my fingers deeper into my flesh, hoping to relieve myself of the pain in my neck, "Yeah. I got engrossed I suppose."

Heath chuckled lightly, reaching out towards me and placing his hands on my shoulders in place of my hands, working his fingers with more strength and finesse that I could muster on my own.

I moaned, leaning into his touch as I squeezed my tired eyes shut, "That feels great."

"You've been staring at those numbers for at least three hours straight, Coe. It's no wonder you're so tensed and tired." Heath explained as he shook his head.

I let out a sheepish laugh, "I didn't even realise it has been so long. You can't blame me. I've been out of a job for a so long, it feels really good to finally have something to do. I was beginning to feel like my brain is gathering rust or rot." I reached to touch his hands, "I feel like I'm actually useful now."

"Not at the expense of your health, please." Heath whispered, his thumbs digging expertly into the knots of my neck and shoulders.

I scoffed, "Tell that to yourself." I took a deep breath, "You've been staying up awfully late with Jared these few days. And now that your meetings are at your own apartment, with your alcohol stash is only two strides away, you're drinking like a fountain. I don't think you should be having so much alcohol, you know?" I nagged, touching both his hands to stop him, before spinning the office chair that I was on around to face him.

Heath raised a brow at me, "Alcohol makes me creative."

I rolled my eyes, "I'm sure."

"Science points to it with evidence too." Heath countered, reaching to my cheeks and brushing it slightly.

"I-"

I was interrupted by the sound of Heath's phone ringing, a ringtone associated with Jared's number. Heath was quick to whip out his phone and scanned the screen. His brows furrowed in a look of frustration for a second, right as the call ended before he could pick it up.