#79: Loops of Silk, Zip Ties in Place [3/5]
Chapter 3
The two of them never made it to the mall. Not because Zitao decided to case the neighborhood, or because Yifan had a hangover he just couldn’t shake. Both of them had been on time, prepared and ready to go with a curt nod given to the other. But as they pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center, they got a call from Zhou Mi.
Another murder had taken place.
It was sooner than Zitao had expected. Sooner than any of them had expected, truly. The previous two murders had been weeks apart, and Zitao had been hoping the timeline would remain rather constant, hoping that maybe this, at least, could be a pattern. But it seemed the killer was getting more confident, striking again just two days after the prior kill. It could play in their favor, as confidence usually led to slip ups, but it also led to more victims, and Zitao couldn’t shake the dread that filled him as they got back on the road.
He had ridden with Yifan all the way to the crime scene with that particular thought running through his head. Neither of them spoke, but Zitao found he didn’t really mind. He doubted there was anything to say, anyway.
The location of the third murder was a quiet gourmet coffee shop, nearly twenty minutes away from the plant nursery and a whopping forty from the mall. By the time they arrived, police had already taped off the building, cruisers parked along the sidewalk out front. After finding a parking spot across the street from the shop, Zitao and Yifan made their way inside, flashing their badges as they ducked under the tape.
The body had yet to be removed from the scene. Zitao tensed at the sight of feet extending past the counter, one bare, its shoe resting a few feet away. A skirt and panties laid trapped underneath one ankle, some of the seams ripped from an obvious struggle. The rest was hidden from view, but Zitao could guess what he would find if he did take a look.
Forensics buzzed around the body, the flash of cameras going off every few seconds as they documented the scene, and Zitao forced himself to relax his shoulders.
Yifan immediately started forward, finding the nearest officer to give him the rundown on what information they had gathered so far, but Zitao stayed back, glancing around the shop instead. The place was a lot like the one he had visited yesterday, out of the way and nestled in the middle of a mostly residential area. It was probably a cozy spot to hang out on most occasions, away from the more crowded coffee chains, with oversized, mix-matched chairs and warm tones decorating the space. Homework was spread out on one of the tables near the window, and Zitao wondered if it belonged to the girl.
When his eyes found a young female officer speaking quietly to a man in an apron embroidered with the shop’s name, he made his way over. They had retreated into the farthest corner of the room, as far from the counter as they could get, and when Zitao neared enough to see the tears in the man’s eyes, he realized the wisdom in that location. The poor guy was shaken up badly, obviously having found the girl.
“Hello,” Zitao said gently as he approached, giving the man a smile when he looked up briefly, and nodding towards the officer in greeting. “I’m Detective Huang. Mind if I sit down?”
The man shook his head, wiping his face quickly even as he buried further into the large chair he had occupied.
“Have my seat,” the officer said as she stood, and Zitao couldn’t hide his surprise. He figured the woman would stay, take her own notes though this case was technically no longer in her department’s demographic, but then again, he outranked her. Perhaps she was afraid of overstepping her boundaries.
As she moved away from the chair, however, she pulled him aside, keeping her back to the witness as she spoke in a hushed tone.
“His name is Lu Han,” she whispered, and Zitao spared the man a glance. Lu Han had lowered his gaze once more, eyes on the floor as she continued. “Other than the fact that he found her, I haven’t been able to get much out of him. He’s been very emotional, and very guarded.”
Ah, so that was it. She wasn’t getting anywhere with him, and figured he wouldn’t talk with her around. Zitao nodded at the new information, preparing himself for a bit of work. Every witness reacted differently, depending on their personality, the relationship with the victim, and other various reasons. He would need to figure out just how to speak to Lu Han without making him clam up even more.
“I’ll take it from here,” Zitao said as he patted her arm, pulling away and lowering himself into the chair she had vacated, watching as she went to talk to her colleagues. When they were alone, Zitao glanced back at the man in front of him, watching him carefully.
“Lu Han, right?” he started, and the man nodded slightly, still not meeting his gaze. “Would it be alright if I ask you a few questions?”
After a hesitation, the man shrugged, and Zitao settled in his chair.
“How old are you?” Zitao asked, and the man’s brows pulled together, obviously confused at why he was being asked that question.
“Twenty-seven.”
Older than Zitao, then. He would have guessed younger, based on looks and the way the man was curled in on himself. The man was practically tucked into the side of the chair, legs folded up underneath him to make himself as small as possible. He was pale, and obviously dazed by the turn of events, but Zitao didn’t think that daze was coming solely from finding a body. There was something else there. Though he didn’t know how old the girl was yet, Zitao figured if the killer had stuck to his typical age range, Lu Han was significantly older than her. Yet, she was obviously dear to him, despite that age gap.
Zitao leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he continued to speak carefully, keeping his voice low and soft.
“How did you know the victim?”
“Her name is Yanyu,” Lu Han said firmly, his frown deepening. He had guessed correctly. Lu Han knew the victim on a more personal level than someone who shared a workplace.
“How did you know Yanyu?” Zitao amended, noting the tension that laced Lu Han’s frame.
“She was my friend,” Lu Han said, and Zitao allowed himself to feel just a bit of relief at the girl not being a family member. “We live on the same street, and our mothers are close. She’s practically my little sister. I was the one who… Who suggested she apply here.”
Lu Han was blaming himself, Zitao realized. That would explain the way he had shut down with the other officer. She had probably jumped straight into this without asking about relations to the victim, wanting answers, and Lu Han had closed himself off, thinking all of this was his own fault.
Zitao changed tactics, trying to steer Lu Han’s thoughts away from the guilt, from the scene itself. He’d focus on their relationship for a bit, ease into his questions.
“What was she like?” he questioned, and Lu Han looked up at him, his face softening when Zitao waited for him to find the words.
“Kind,” he answered immediately. “She was kind. Very gentle.”
“Gentle?”
“She would never hurt anyone,” Lu Han said with a shaky voice. “The kind of person to go out of her way if she thought it would benefit others. If there was anything she could do to help you out, she did it without question. And she was so smart. Even if she was younger than me, she was mature for her age, mothered over me and the rest of our friends. A caregiver.”
Zitao tried his best to smile, knowing it was a bit too far on the pitying side. “She sounds like she was a good friend.”
“She was,” Lu Han agreed in a whisper, fresh tears welling up. He covered his face with one hand, letting out a stuttering breath. “She wasn’t even supposed to be here. She was supposed to open this morning. I… I was supposed to take the closing shift, but something came up and I couldn’t. I asked her to switch shifts with me. If I hadn’t… If I had been here instead -”
The man cut himself off, shaking his head, and Zitao’s heart ached for him. It wasn’t his fault that this girl had died in such a violent way. The killer could have picked her out days ago, waiting to strike, but Zitao knew Lu Han wouldn’t believe any reassurances. All Zitao could do was try to make sure no one else found a friend dead because of this killer.
Zitao reached forward to lay a hand on Lu Han’s wrist, rubbing the skin there in a way he hoped was soothing. “I know this is hard for you, Lu Han, but I’m going to ask you some questions about this morning, okay? You don’t have to talk about it right now, but it may be easier to remember now than it will be later, and this would help us find who did this to Yanyu. That’s why I’m here.” He looked towards Yifan, who was speaking to one of the forensic specialists. “That’s why my partner is here, too. We want to make sure no one else is hurt by whoever it is who hurt Yanyu. Do you think you can help us? Can you try?”
Lu Han didn’t readily answer, but when he looked up, he had composed himself a bit. “Okay,” he whispered, and Zitao squeezed his wrist before letting go. He pulled out a pen and notepad, flipping to a new page after Xiaotong’s notes.
“Tell me what happened, what you remember, if you can.”
“I got to work around seven,” Lu Han started, words slow and measured as he watched Zitao write, “and immediately knew something was wrong. The backdoor lights were on, and they are never on in the morning. The person on the closing shift always cuts them off before they leave. And I knew Yanyu had been here, knew she took her job seriously and wouldn’t forget something simple like that.”
“Was there anything else that appeared strange?” Zitao asked. “A door not shut properly? Signs of forced entry?”
“Not at the back,” Lu Han answered, biting his lip. “But the front door was left unlocked.”
Zitao wondered if the man had simply walked in like any other customer, before killing the girl. If he had, then it was possible any prints left behind would be destroyed by others having entered the shop.
“What happened when you got inside?” Zitao coaxed, pushing that thought from his mind for now.
Lu Han fidgeted, hands falling to fumble with the hem of his apron. “When I came into the front room, I didn’t see her at first. But when I went to check the register, I found her.”
This time, Lu Han didn’t try to hide his tears, his eyes focusing somewhere over Zitao’s shoulder instead of looking at him directly, and Zitao knew he was reliving how he discovered her body. “She was… naked from the waist down. And she had bruises, hands tied up. Her hair ribbon was tied in a bow around her neck.”
Lu Han shook his head violently. “Why would someone do that? She didn’t do anything wrong. Why would anyone ever hurt her?”
Zitao looked down, taking a deep breath as he checked his notes. He had heard this question from multiple witnesses, and frequently asked himself the same thing. Why did people do horrible things to innocent victims? It was something that had driven him to admire policemen at a young age, knowing they were trying to stop these things from happening. It had driven his own desire to become one, to try and be the one to help those who needed it. And in all of his time as a police officer, and then a detective, he had yet to find the answer to that question.
As hard as it was to believe, some people did this to others simply because they could.
“I don’t know,” he answered Lu Han truthfully, shaking his head. “But my partner and I are doing our best to find that person, and to make sure they can’t do this to anyone else ever again.”
He leaned forward even more, his mind racing. If Yanyu was really as kind as Lu Han described, perhaps she had given her trust to the wrong person. Had she noticed someone who looked like they needed help? Had she tried to reach out to them, only to have it backfire? But then again, he had said she was smart. Would she be able to tell the difference between a dangerous situation and something harmless? Or would the killer had taken his time, gotten to know her?
What if it was someone she had come to recognize as a friend?
“Has there been any unusual people in the shop lately?” Zitao questioned, hand moving in front of him as he gathered his words. “Or anyone who Yanyu may have mentioned meeting?”
Before Lu Han could answer, a hand came to rest heavily on Zitao’s shoulder. The young detective jolted, looking up to find Yifan had moved to stand next to him.
“Lu Han, this is my partner, Detective Wu,” Zitao introduced when he noticed Lu Han stiffen at the sight of the man. Yifan gave the witness a quick nod, which seemed to lessen the other’s nerves just a bit, before he turned to Zitao.
“May I speak to you?” the older detective asked.
Zitao gave Lu Han a smile before excusing himself, standing from the chair and following Yifan. A quick glance at the counter told him the body had been removed during his talk with Lu Han, undoubtedly taken to the lab for autopsy, and for Lu Han’s sake, he was glad. At least now he wouldn’t have to see his friend like that.
“What do you have?” Zitao asked once they were out of earshot of others, positioning himself so he could still see Lu Han. The older man had wedged himself back into the corner of the chair again, staring at the wall as others moved around him.
“Zhou Yanyu, age seventeen,” Yifan started, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “Tied, raped and strangled. Just like the others.”
“What about appearances?”
“Short hair, athletic build, hair ribbon. It’s yellow this time.”
Zitao sighed. “Was there anything left behind that we could go on?”
“Forensics didn’t find any DNA evidence,” Yifan continued. “No hair, no semen, nothing. The girl seemed to have fought him off, judging from the split lip and bruising patterns along her arms, but she had nothing under her fingernails and nothing on her clothes or skin.”
“We aren’t lucky enough to hope the guy tossed a condom in the trashcan, are we?” Zitao said as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
“They’ve checked, but there’s nothing.” Yifan pushed his fingers through his hair with a sigh, shaking his head. “The guy knows what he’s doing.”
Before Zitao could speak, there was a brief commotion at the door. They both turned to look, just in time to watch a man, perhaps older than Yifan, walk into the room, eyes wide and frantic. A few officers went to grab him, protests flying out at the man’s interference with a crime scene, and he fought against their holds, continuing to move into the shop. Everyone stilled at the sound of Lu Han’s voice cutting through the air, high and broken in tone.
“Minseok.”
The newcomer’s head snapped to the side, the slightest bit of relief crossing his features as he pushed more adamantly to get passed the officers, his eyes on Lu Han. The witness’s tears spilling over his cheeks at the sight of the other man, and Zitao lurched forward, reaching the stranger - Minseok, he noted - in a few strides. Yifan beat him to it, stepping up to grab a hold of the man’s shoulder, bunching the fabric of his shirt in his fist to keep him in place.
“Sir, you can’t be in here,” Yifan started, voice hard and unyielding, but Minseok cut him off.
“Please, I must get through,” he insisted, but Yifan was already shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, you need to leave.”
“Sir, this scene is very delicate right now,” Zitao began, meeting Minseok’s gaze with an expression that, while sympathetic, was firm. “We cannot allow civilians to enter the shop.”
“You don’t understand,” Minseok argued. “I’m Lu Han’s boyfriend. I saw the police cars outside. Is he okay? Is he hurt?”
“Seok, it’s Yanyu,” Lu Han cried, pushing his face into his hands as his shoulders began to shake with sobs. “I found Yanyu.”
“Found?” Minseok repeated, face draining of color as his froze, no longer fighting the officers holding him back. Minseok looked towards Yifan and Zitao, realization creeping into his eyes. “You mean…”
“You knew her?” Zitao asked, though it was clear he did.
“Of course I know her,” Minseok breathed out, not catching Zitao’s use of past tense. “I met her through Han. She’s practically family. What happened to her? Where is she?”
Zitao exchanged a glance with Yifan, before licking his lips. This was going to be tough.
“She was murdered last night,” Zitao said in a gentle voice. Minseok jerked as if he had been slapped, mouth falling open. “Lu Han found her this morning.”
Minseok took a moment to breathe, swallowing around his emotions as he shook his head.
“He… Please,” Minseok spoke, breath turning harsh, “I need to see Han. Let me talk to him. I can calm him down.”
“We can’t let you do that,” Yifan responded immediately, and Minseok’s face twisted into anger and confusion.
“I’m not asking for your permission.”
Zitao could see the frustration in Yifan’s posture, and he quickly put his hand on Yifan’s arm to pull him back, giving him a quick glance before turning back towards Minseok. “Listen, I know what you are feeling. I know you are worried and upset and probably want nothing more than to make sure your boyfriend is okay. But it is very important that Lu Han remains calm.”
He tossed his chin in Lu Han’s direction. “Right now, he is in shock and very upset. And I know you mean well, and that you want to comfort him, right?” When Minseok nodded quickly, Zitao continued, “Then you need to stay calm as well. And you must let us do our jobs. Once we are finished talking to him, we will allow him to go home with you.”
“He needs me now,” Minseok protested, eyes cutting to the side towards Lu Han’s trembling form, but Zitao kept going.
“We are nearly done. All I need is about fifteen more minutes,” Zitao reasoned. “We will get him to finish his statement as the main witness, let him calm down, and then he will be allowed to go. If you want to help, then you must do as we ask. The sooner we get his entire statement, the sooner he can leave.”
Minseok stared at Zitao, his eyes hard, before he spoke. “Fifteen minutes?”
“Or less, if I can help it,” Zitao assured. “He’s sensitive right now. You know him far better than we do. I’m sure you can imagine the type of stress he is under at the moment. I won’t hold him here longer than necessary. But if we are to stop whoever did this to your friend, we need Lu Han’s help in this case. As well as yours. Please.”
Minseok closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before nodding slowly. “Alright. But if he’s not outside in fifteen minutes, I’m coming back in to get him.”
“I’ll walk him out to you myself,” Zitao responded. “You have my word.”
He gave Lu Han a final glance, eyes full of concern, before he allowed the officers to escort him out. Zitao let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, turning to look at Yifan. “Let me go finish up with Lu Han so we can get him out of here. Then we can talk.”
Yifan nodded, looking between Zitao and the door that Minseok had just exited through with an emotion Zitao couldn’t pinpoint, before moving away. With a sad smile, Zitao went back to a now distraught Lu Han, shushing him gently, assuring him he’d be out of here and with Minseok very soon.
Zitao was a man of his word, and if he wanted to keep it that way, he’d have to work fast.
X
It wasn’t until after Zitao had returned from his walk around the neighborhood that Yifan spoke to him again.
But just because he hadn’t talked to him, didn’t mean he hadn’t thought of him. Even as Yifan dealt with the forensic specialists, going over the finer details of the crime scene with the other investigators, his mind kept lingering on the exchange with Minseok.
Kim Minseok had been a wildcard, something that the detective hadn’t expected at the crime scene. So when the man walked into the shop with determination, Yifan’s initial reaction was panic, his mind filled with observations.
He needs to leave. He shouldn’t be in here. He needs to leave. He’ll disturb evidence. He needs to leave.
While all of the statements were true, they were just that. Statements. There was no bend to them, just coldcut truths that made Yifan act quickly.
Zitao, however, didn’t think in statements in that situation. He thought in questions, questions Yifan had seen immediately in the other’s face as he spoke to the distraught man.
Why is he here? What is his connection? What will it take to get him to leave? How do I keep him calm?
It was the same train of thought - Minseok can’t be in the shop - but there was a flexibility and understanding there that Yifan’s observations didn’t have. Which was fine for details and crime scenes. Details didn’t need flexibility. But people did. People had to be understood, and to do that, you had to adapt to each person individually.
Zitao knew that. He changed his approach from person to person, and it worked. His flexibility went far beyond his physical capabilities, it seemed.
While Yifan had known Zitao thought differently than he did, approached the same problems from a different angle, he hadn’t exactly seen how effective it could be. When Zitao had spoken to their first witness, Yifan had been scouting the nursery, looking for different clues and trying to shake his frustration towards the younger detective, and he didn’t really see their interactions. But he had watched how Zitao had handled Lu Han - the man was a wreck, but Zitao managed to get him to speak to him openly - and then he had watched how he guided Minseok into seeing their side. Yifan couldn’t help but feel Zhou Mi was right for pairing them up. They balanced one another out.
While he may never admit it to Yixing or Jongdae if asked, Yifan knew he was wrong about Zitao. The kid was good. And if he hadn’t have been there to calm the boyfriend down, shit could have gotten ugly.
When Zitao found his way back to the car, Yifan was waiting, leaning against the driver’s side door. As the younger man approached, Yifan glanced up, tilting his head to the side at the calmness that had settled over the other’s expression. He was starting to think the walks were not only to get a feel for the neighborhood, but for Zitao to settle his thoughts, center himself. After such a highly emotional scene in the shop, he wouldn’t blame him for that.
“What do you think?” Yifan asked, and Zitao shrugged.
“A lot like the others,” the younger man said as he opened the passenger door, Yifan following suit and sliding into the car. “Residential area. This shop is about the only business for two blocks in either direction.”
The younger man settled into the passenger seat with a sigh, rubbing at his forehead as he spoke. “Any word from the parents?”
“They’re going to meet us at the station,” Yifan answered as he buckled himself in. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting with the girl’s parents, knowing it was going to be a very emotional discussion, but it had to be done. They had already gone through the other parents yesterday, and this one would probably be the worst, as they would be getting the initial reaction to the news of their daughter’s death. Or at least, to the details of it.
Zitao hummed as Yifan started the car, letting his head fall back to the seat rest, eyes slipping closed. “I’ll grab us some coffee from the break room, give you a chance to get the ball rolling.”
Yifan let that thought settle in his mind for only a moment before pushing it away with a shake of his head, throwing the car into drive and pulling onto the street. “No, I don’t think that’s the best approach.”
And it wasn’t. While he knew Zitao was trying to give him the control in the situation, it would probably hurt them in their investigation. Zitao could get more out of them in five minutes than Yifan could in two hours, and as much as Yifan’s ego loved being stroked, he wasn’t above admitting he fell short at this part of his job.
Zitao outright groaned at his words, though, misunderstanding the reason behind Yifan’s reluctance to go along with that plan, and he cracked an eye open to glare at the older detective.
“Then what do you want, Yifan? Because obviously, my suggestions mean jack shit to you.”
Yifan gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter as he pulled up to the stop light, sighing heavily through his nose. Really, he was trying to do the right thing. It wouldn’t help if he lost his temper, even if Zitao was being ungrateful.
“What I meant is that I think it would be better if you met with the parents first,” Yifan bit out, chewing on his bottom lip and keeping his eyes on the road when Zitao whipped his head to the side to gape at him. “You’re better at the emotional stuff. I can get us coffee, and let you get started.”
“Oh,” Zitao said after a moment, his voice soft, and when Yifan turned to look over at him, he looked away. The faintest of blushes bloomed across the younger detective’s nose and cheeks, and he cleared his throat as he frowned down at his lap. “Sorry. I didn’t realize…”
“Yeah, well, there are a lot of things you don’t realize about me,” Yifan cut in, turning onto the highway with a small snort. “But you… You handled that situation with Minseok a lot better than I did. If you are up for it, I think it’d be best to have you go in first.”
“I’m up for it,” Zitao replied quickly, and Yifan couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face at the sound of Zitao’s eagerness. “Definitely up for it.”
“Then it’s settled,” Yifan stated, glancing briefly at Zitao before turning his eyes forward once more.
Zitao didn’t say anything else for the duration of the ride, but Yifan had not missed the smile that he wore.
X
Yifan wasn’t exactly sure what led him to invite Zitao to his apartment two nights later. They had been staying late at the station for most nights, searching through documents and files and witness statements until the words merged into a giant blob on the page. But the station was a safe zone for them, mutually shared ground. They could be comfortable around one another in the office without any type of internal territory struggle.
But after the scene at the coffee shop, and a full two days of witness interrogations - interviews, Zitao called them, to make them sound less harsh when these were, technically, not known suspects - the office space seemed more like a level of Hell than a place to work. The very thought of working another long night there made him want to scream, and he found himself voicing his suggestion for a location change before his mind fully caught up to what he was saying.
Zitao, as surprised as he was, agreed easily, under the added condition that they grabbed some takeout and beer to go along with the move. Yifan’s empty stomach and frayed nerves rejoiced.
So here they were, settled in Yifan’s cramped living room with maps and files spread out between them, each holding a box of noodles and shoveling food into their mouths between breaths. Yifan had to admit, though, it wasn’t as awkward as he thought it would be. Now that he was actively trying to be open-minded to Zitao’s abilities, it was a lot less tempting to hit him. In fact, he hadn’t felt much irritation since their last fight.
As much as his mind sent up red flags to that lack of a desire to punch the younger man, he ignored it. There was nothing wrong with not hating Zitao. They didn’t have to be at each other’s necks; in fact, they shouldn’t be. This was better. This was still comfortable without overstepping boundaries. Still safe.
Except the way he had suddenly become so aware of Zitao was anything but safe.
It had to be the alcohol in his system. Yixing always joked that his libido was on overdrive when he had a few too many drinks, though they hardly ever resulted in a one-night stand. Jongdae lovingly said it was because his way of flirting was by openly staring at the other person without blinking, which was apparently not as appealing as drunken Yifan believed at the time.
But Zitao wasn’t exactly making this easier for him. The man looked far too at home, legs folded up under him as he leaned forward over the maps, studying each one as he twirled his chopsticks between his fingers. He had discarded the tie the minute they left the station, pulling his shirt open to reveal the white tank he wore underneath the button up, and Yifan waffled between wanting to lean over and button the shirt back up or push it further off his shoulders.
That thought was certainly coming from the beer. Had to be. He should probably slow down on the alcohol.
But now that he had accepted Zitao’s worth, he now had to accept the fact that he was incredibly attractive. You know, if Yifan was into the rougher, disheveled look. Which he certainly was not. But he couldn’t help admiring the way Zitao’s hair had broken free of the gel that held it in place that morning, swooping into his eyes as he looked over their case material. Or the way he could see the vague outlines of tattoos through his dress shirt, ink swirling across his biceps and down both forearms. Or the sharp brinde of his nose, and the swell of his bottom lip. He may not have readily looked for it, but the aesthetics were there, and now he was having trouble looking away.
But it helped that he was sitting a good distance away, far enough that it would require effort to reach out to him.
And it also helped that Zitao seemed completely oblivious to his stares. For all the talk Yifan did of being professional, Zitao was staying in work mode even after his third beer, muttering comments from time to time about the different locations and possible target areas their killer could focus on. They had taken the time to draw lines between the crime scenes, setting up radius that spanned across the city to try and narrow down the next kill.
“What about the uptown?” Zitao muttered under his breath, fingers sliding along the area as he spoke. “It falls within the radius we’ve made with the others.”
“Uptown might be a little too bustling,” Yifan responded, taking another swig of his beer and trying really hard not to notice the way Zitao’s tongue swiped along his bottom lip to collect any sauce left behind by the noodles. “He’s been sticking to residential areas, like you said.”
“Yes, but I feel like he hasn’t stuck to much of a pattern as it is,” Zitao said as he chewed at his bottom lip in thought. “What if he changes it up? That areas is pretty popular with high school kids.”
“Even if he does,” Yifan started, pushing himself up into a cross-legged position, “not many of his target age are out in that part of town unattended.”
Zitao nodded, draining his beer and reaching for another as he balanced his food between his arm and side. “True. If he sticks to teenagers, he’d need to go for areas that are a bit quieter. Somewhere he could gain their trust.”
The man fumbled with his food as he righted himself with his new beer in hand, and a soft curse left his lips as the noodles sloshed against his shirt. He pulled the box away, frowning at the damp stain that now marred the white fabric. That sauce was notorious for being a bitch to clean.
“Damn it,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “This is one of my favorite shirts.”
Before Yifan could say anything, the man was shrugging out of his outer shirt, revealing all of the ink Yifan had been pretending not to envision while they were sitting here in his apartment. And even as he told himself not to look, he couldn’t help but let his eyes roam those dark lines embedded in tan skin, following to where they disappeared beneath the straps of his tank top. He wasn’t so sure what they were, and he was half-tempted to ask. He was supposed to be repulsed by them, but instead he found himself thinking of moving across the room to touch them. Would he be able to feel the difference between inked and bare skin? Would they be as smooth to the touch as they looked?
He set his beer down on the floor beside him, putting his hands in his lap with determination to keep them there.
Zitao’s voice reached him through his thoughts, unaware at what his state of undress was doing to Yifan. “If we go by the radius we’ve made, there are five possible neighborhoods.”
Yifan hummed, eyes flickering between the map and Zitao before landing firmly on the map once more. “Do any of them have something that would be more populated? Each of these last ones were at a hang out spot or a workplace.”
“Three of them,” Zitao answered around another helping of noodles, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. “One has a park, one was a shopping center, and the other has some family attractions, places where a teenager could easily get a summer job.”
Another hum, Yifan’s attention finding the designs around Zitao’s wrists suddenly very fascinating.
“I’m not so sure he’d strike at another mall,” Zitao mused, and when he shifted to lean back on his hands, Yifan could see the muscles in his arms jump to support his weight. “And this one doesn’t really have the right kinds of shops anyways, more geared towards seniors.”
“What about the park?” Yifan asked, mouth dry as he tried to focus. “Wouldn’t that be an ideal location? Quiet, secluded?”
“There’s not many people around the area at night,” the other said, shaking his head.
“Isn’t that perfect, then?” Yifan asked, vaguely aware that parks fell under the category of residential hang out quite often. But Zitao shrugged, still not convinced.
“But not many teenagers, either.” The younger man pushed his arms up over his head, stretching until there was a pop in his back, and Yifan hated himself for admiring the lines of the man’s body as he did so. “If he’d hit one of these, I’d think it’d be the summer job locations.”
“Oh,” the older detective breathed out, and Zitao’s eyes cut to him. Yifan looked away a moment too late, heat crawling up the back of his neck to join the flush alcohol had already conjured up, and when Zitao cleared his throat, he braced for the joke he was sure would follow.
What he got, surprisingly, was a bit of sheepishness.
“I can put the shirt back on, if they bother you,” he heard Zitao say, and when he looked over at the other man, he noticed the way Zitao was watching him. He looked defiant, as if he wanted to say something to defend himself like he was so used to doing around Yifan, but at the same time he seemed somewhat unsettled, as if highly aware that his tattoos were a bit of a taboo even in this day and age. And more than that, he was willing to cover them up if Yifan was uncomfortable with them, which spoke a lot of Zitao’s adaptable nature, despite his loud appearance.
But at the moment, Zitao covering his tattoos back up was the exact opposite of what Yifan wanted.
“N-no,” Yifan muttered, taking a breath as he laughed nervously. “No, I don’t mind.”
“You were staring pretty hard at them,” Zitao pointed out, though the words didn’t hold the bluntness they could have. In fact, he seemed intrigued.
“I,” Yifan started, meeting Zitao’s eyes briefly before looking back to the floor with another laugh. “I’m not bothered by them. I think they look kind of cool, actually.”
“Oh,” Zitao said softly, and after a moment, he laughed as well, a bit incredulously. “I thought you hated my tattoos.”
“So did I,” Yifan admitted, and he didn’t stop himself from grabbing his beer again, taking a rather big gulp from the bottle. He glanced back up at Zitao, this time giving a small smile as he nodded his head towards him. “They look good on you though. They fit your style.”
He looked a moment longer, this time with the knowledge that Zitao was watching him. “What are they?”
“Mostly geometric patterns,” Zitao started, lifting his right arm and twisting it slowly for Yifan to see the lines, and oh, wait, he was right. Yifan could see the connections clearly now, the design shifting from dark to light and all of the variations in between as it moved over Zitao’s skin in a puzzle-like fashion of sharp lines and angles. “But some of them loop back to organic forms, in a way, resembling things like molecules and snowflakes and flowers.”
“Are they the same on both arms?” Yifan asked, waiting for Zitao to lift his other arm as well, turning it this way and that.
“Pretty much,” Zitao replied quietly, looking down at the ink fondly. “Each pattern is slightly different, but I wanted them to all kind of blend together.”
Yifan nodded, opening his mouth to ask another question, before he stopped himself. Asking more wasn’t safe. As much as he wanted to keep diving into the nuances of the designs that covered the other’s skin, he knew it would lead to different topics. Topics Yifan was not ready for.
“You’d look good with some ink,” Zitao concluded after a moment of silence, giving Yifan an appraising look that had Yifan struggling to stay still. “Especially a neck tattoo.”
Yifan outright snorted at the words, shaking his head with his nose scrunched in disagreement at the idea. Not only was his pain tolerance shit, but he had long accepted his role as a stiff.
“I’d look ridiculous.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Zitao said with a warm laugh, and Yifan couldn’t help but laugh himself at the sound of it. He liked that sound, light and airy. It was nice to hear Zitao laugh. He wondered if he’d hear it again. He wondered if he could make Zitao laugh like that more often.
Yifan pushed his beer away once more, swearing off the stuff for the rest of the night as he tried to keep his thoughts focused on the case at hand instead of the way Zitao’s skin would look against his own, intricate designs against a pale complexion.
They were still safe, and he wanted to keep it that way.
X
By the time Zitao left Yifan’s apartment - conveniently in walking distance, or at least in Zitao’s current mindset - his body was feeling pleasantly light. Perhaps he had finished that last beer off a bit too fast, though his motor skills and reflexes were still intact. Either way, he felt like he was walking on air.
But his thoughts were a bit heavier, shirt slung over his shoulder as he walked. He could probably blame the alcohol, considering he was a little bit past buzzed at this point, but he knew that was only half of the reason.
The other half was confusion, thanks to Yifan.
Zitao was starting to think the man wasn’t as bad as he first guessed. Yifan, for as much of a jerk as he could be, really wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t trying to dismiss everything Zitao did. He was actually kind of nice, when he wanted to be.
The younger detective hadn’t expected Yifan to be interested in his tattoos. When he first started to undo his shirt, he had been aware of the tension that suddenly entered Yifan’s posture, and part of him kept the shirt off out of spite. But then Yifan was staring. He could almost feel the man’s gaze tracing his arms as Zitao tried to stay focused on the case, though it was hard to do when Yifan had been reduced to half-hearted answers. Zitao had been ready to argue about his ink when he offered to cover them, wanting to defend himself even if his mind was telling him it was better to pick his battles. Yifan had been pleasant tonight, had opened up his home to Zitao, and if he wanted him to put that stupid shirt back on, he would have.
But surprisingly, Yifan didn’t want him to do that. In fact, he had seemed to be admiring the ink instead of demeaning it. Zitao hadn’t missed the way his fingers seemed to twitch, as if he was wanting to touch the lines as well. And it may have been the beer talking, but Zitao wasn’t necessarily opposed to that idea.
He shook his head as he walked, smiling up at the sky as he let out a soft laugh. No, that wasn’t a good path to go down. He shouldn’t think about Yifan touching him, even if he wouldn’t mind. Yifan may not be as horrible as he had first thought, but he was still Yifan. He was still the no-nonsense, hard-ass detective he always was, and while tonight had been nice, he wasn’t so disillusioned to believe it could ever go past comradery.
Even still, he kind of really enjoyed spending time with Yifan tonight. It had been different to see Yifan relaxed in his own apartment, sitting on the floor and looking at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the room, but it was a good different.
Maybe Zitao just liked the attention from the other, the ability to talk about his tattoos even in small doses, or maybe he actually liked this other side of Yifan, who seemed much easier to get along with. Maybe he liked the way he had wrinkled his nose at the idea of a neck tattoo - which, for the record, would be hot - or the way he had seemed like he was holding back his questions, as if any more would have crossed whatever line Yifan had drawn between them. Maybe he liked letting his guard down a little around the older man, and watching as he did the same.
Maybe there could be something there, down the road.
He laughed at himself as he continued to walk, sighing at nothing in particular.
Or maybe, he thought sarcastically, I should drink less.
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