Playing With Fire || d.h

46. You, Again

Your POV

Dan places his hand on my bouncing thigh as an attempt to help calm me, but nothing's going to get rid of my anxiety right now. We're here to get help and figure out who the hell has been getting into our places, how they're able to get into our apartments without us noticing, and why the only things going missing are my clothes.

At some point, an elderly man with obviously dyed black hair and a protruding belly pull us into his office, and I let Dan do all the talking, mainly because I'm much too anxious to even organize my thoughts enough to formulate a sentence. He tells him about the missing clothes and pills, how nothing seemed out of place, how he and I both had relatively large followings on the Internet and already had a tad bit of drama surrounding us.

Once he's done explaining everything, the officer says, "Well, we can have some people look through the two apartments for possible signs of intrusion, or DNA, or things like that. Also, we can have cameras installed outside the two of your apartments, so if someone tries to break in again, we'll be able to catch them that way. However, due to lack of evidence, there's not much else we can do." He pauses for a second, then asks, "Is there anyone specific you can think of who may be behind this?"

Dan and I glance at each other, and I realize we both must be thinking of the same two person who may be behind this; James.

I'm able to give the police all the information I have on James, such as his full name, phone number, and last known address. Luckily they could easily find his file, due to him being arrested relatively recently. He promises they will look into it and try to locate him, and tomorrow morning, a crime lab will come to our apartments to basically invade our privacy for any sign of whomever had broken in. I make a mental note to do something with my substance stash before then, as I really don't need to go to jail right now. That would most definitely be the final nudge to push me off the edge.

After three hours being in the police station, we're finally dismissed, and walk out of the building and onto the street. Dan pulls out his phone, and gives a surprised huff.

"Shit, four missed calls from Phil," he slides his phone unlocked and puts it to his ear. I know the second Phil answers, as I'm able to hear his boisterous, concerned voice on the other end. "Hey, sorry for not texting you or anything... uh, long story short, someone broke into (Y/n)'s apartment, and we had to go to the police station...yeah, we're pretty sure it's the same guy, the only things missing were some of her shirts...okay, yeah, we'll be home soon. See you then. Buh-bye." He ends the call, and tucks his phone into his pocket.

He flashes a small smirk. "I guess Phil got a bit freaked out when he woke up this morning, and I had kinda disappeared." He then walks up to me, and grabs my hand. "Let's get some breakfast before I pass out, or something."

We're seated in a small diner that smells like coffee and old people, but I like it, it feels relaxing and genuine.

"Mm, pancakes are so much better when you don't have to make them yourself," I say, chewing my banana-chocolate flapjack. The food relaxes me. After being at the station for hours, it's incredibly pleasant to feel warm, and full, and safe.

"Hey!" I shout half-jokingly as Dan takes his own fork and cuts off a huge chunk of my stack of pancakes. He plops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully, analytically. I raise my eyebrows, wondering what he's thinking.

"You're right. I think these are better than your pancakes." He laughs at the sudden shocked expression on my face. "Don't worry, I'm only joking. Well, kind of."

I swat him on the arm, and take a large bite of his hash browns. "Fine, next time I decide to make pancakes, I won't waste my time baking some for you."