You and Haechan are best friends.
Haechan disappears when he is tweleve.
Fourteen years later you are a rogue cop with your name on a crime syndicate's dead man list.
It just so happens the boss resembles the best friend you thought was dead.
[ reup...
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8.5 and 9.
"(Y/N), do you know what heaven is?"
(Y/N) looks up in surprise, the sand cupped in her hands falling between the unconscious cracks in her fingers. She stands brushing her hands clean over her shirt and walks over to sit by her friend, band-aid covered legs starting to swing back and forth next to the older boy's still ones. She follows Donghyuk's upwards gaze. The day is overcast, clouds large and fluffy and delicious. She thinks of cotton candy.
"I think it's up there somewhere."
Donghyuk is silent, plump lips parted a little. Several moments pass before he speaks. "Ms. Choi says good people go to heaven."
(Y/N)'s head falls to the side in curious contemplation only acquainted with childhood. "Where do the bad ones go?"
Donghyuk blinks. "They become ghosts. They become stranded on Earth."
(Y/N) stays focused on the clouds, her eyebrows scrunching up and betraying her thinking mind. "Stra-stran-stranded," her lips curve around the word.
Donghyuk nods. "Stranded."
"But Haechan-ah, how do you know you are good or bad?"
Donghyuk leans to the side, head almost leaning on her's. "When you make someone you love feel bad. When you hurt them."
"Haechan-ah, it hurt when my father died, when he left me. Does that mean he was bad?"
There's a heaviness in her chest, and Donghyuk thinks of his own father. He remembers flashing lights, red and blue. He remembers shouts, of sweat and a hot tears, of a suffocating darkness. He remembers firm hands leading him out into the cold night, of black leathered back seats and the smell of something that burned the back of his throat. "Yes. He hurt you, (Y/N). He was bad."
She leans into her side, head firmly laying on Donghyuk's shoulder. "Is it bad that I'm happy my father might be st-stranded, Haechanie?"
Donghyuk turns, looks down at the mop of hair on his shoulder. "What do you mean?"
(Y/N) snuggles closer, voice soft and tinged with tiredness. "If my father is a ghost, I can see him again."
Donghyuk blinks, and looks up again. The heat of the girl at his side fails to keep him warm as the cool evening breeze whips over them.
---
You are an elusive bastard, Park Jisung will give you that. He has been sitting in the corner of the café for several hours now, seated facing the window with a good view of the detective's apartment building. It is one in the afternoon on a Tuesday, and the detective has not yet left her apartment. Private yes, investigator not much. Jisung shifts in his seat uncomfortably.
