man on the run • shyan

wounds sharper than knives

There isn't a The Unsolved Criminal case in a long time and Tinsley doesn't feel like he's suffocating too much anymore.

Except when there is and the lanky man feels like he's drowning again, the guilt of knowing the offender behind these gruesome murders and doing absolutely nothing about it, and even helping the monster, making him sick.

He stands there at the crime scene, looking down at the body of a young man this time with cuts along his back and neck with his face facing down in a pool of his own of blood.

Tinsley is attracted to a man capable of such a thing.

Stomaching down whatever emotional breakdown he's very close to having, he listens numbly to the bustling of the police around him.

What they would do if they knew what he's done.

His skin itches and crawls and he hates himself for longing for such a cruel human being.

He calls the day off early, his posture completely stumped the moment he reaches his apartment.

To be faced with the devil himself.

The criminal was slumped on the kitchen counter, his stumble grown and his eyes heavy.

He jolted the moment he heard Tinsley open the door.

"It wasn't me, Cecil, you've got to believe me"

Tinsley scoffed, he worked with charming criminals before, he knows when he's being manipulated.

The use of his first name is obviously used to make him feel fond, the rueful tone of his voice nothing but artificial sympathy like the politicians had used at the gala they had first met at. Tinsley wasn't sure if the man across from him even had emotions. He wasn't sure if the criminal was capable of regret.

Detective CC Tinsley knew for a fact Ricky Goldsworth doesn't actually give a flying fuck about his opinion of him and wouldn't bother to convince Tinsley he hadn't done it without another motive.

But his traitorous heart forces him to listen to Goldsworth anyways.

With a groan, Tinsley pointedly ignored the other man's pleading dark eyes, knowing he would cave in before he could even process what the criminal was saying. He walked to his fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, the cold glass not enough to cool his ire, knowing for a fact he was being used.

He was angry at Ricky for using him and he was angry at himself for allowing to be used despite being fully aware he was being used in the first place.

It was a mess, he was a mess.

He popped open the bottle slowly, taking a deep gulp, before raising an awaiting eyebrow at the pleading man.

"Listen to me baby, I didn't do this one, I swear"

Tinsley flusters at the term of endearment but he refuses to budge, keeping his gaze glued onto the condensation running down his bottle and not the enigmas which are Goldsworth helpless dark eyes.

"Then who did"

His voice was steady, eyes cold, forcing himself not to break under whatever game Goldsworth was playing.

"I don't know! Cecil, please"

"Just please get out of my house, leave me alone"

"Cecil, baby, listen! Give me time, I'll find the real culprit! Please baby, please"

"Forget me, Goldsworth! I won't let you use me like this anymore"

Tinsley feels like an idiot, asking a serial killer to leave him alone. He was practically flirting with death. His safety was now at risk but he couldn't take his words back.