MY OBSESSION | P.J.M

27.

Taehyung

[Is it true that only love can hurt like this?]

As time moves on I realize that I don't really just miss her. I miss what I thought I could have.

Who I thought I could be.

Who I thought she could be.

She managed to show me that my long winter could turn into spring with beautiful cherry blossoms filling the parks instead of dead leaves falling from the trees. I believed that she was the one that could fix me and fill the void within me.

But I've tried to forget about you, of course. One can't live if one is stuck in the past. But trying to change my perception of you will take longer than the clouds do to move away and let the sky be painted blue again. The world feels blurry again. Perhaps it's just my eyes.

I wish that nothing I lay my hands on would turn out corrupt, poisoned. I felt uneasy as the case was laying in front of me on my desk, an organized mess of all the new clues we had to work with. Last time I tried to fix anything my touch led to the ultimate destruction of everything I once possessed. Alas, I shouldn't let my fear take over me. So I flipped through the documents and added some pictures and notes to an empty page. My brows furrowed with focus and exhaustion. I felt like I was stuck in the same bad dream over and over and that healing was just an illusion fooling me that a better me is possible. I've changed but the progress is going slower than a broken clock with dead batteries. I don't know if I'll ever be over this. Over you.

One of the senior cops talked to the landlord that was responsible for the apartment complex y/n lived in and he nonchalantly mentioned that another guy next to y/n's  moved away but that he didn't pay his water bill. It wasn't a lot but money is money. He tried to reach him but he couldn't get a hold of him and needed help from the cop.

The cop did it's job by asking who the owner of the vacant apartment was; turns out it's one of our suspects. The suspect's lack of presence was odd and suspicious, after calling and looking for traces we barely reached any conclusions about his whereabouts. I grabbed some tape to secure a picture on one of the pages. It was a picture of a locked door with scribbles on that seemed rather random, even though they weren't.

We brung the landlord in for an investigation after we asked for a spare key. I played back the investigation tape, that Milo brung along with the other things what were in the paper bag, on my computer. "I don't have one I promise, I didn't install that door. He must've done it himself... even though he didn't ask for permission. I can sue him for that right?" The old man talked like it was a regular conversation between old friends.