Noah lied in three reports before the noon.
Not big ones though, the ones what would not be noticed.
Just...some small permissions that he granted himself.
Delayed timeline.Unverified witness.Medical episode interfering with statement.
Like paper shields, thin ones, still shields.
And by the afternoon, his head started to hurt.
By the evening his phone had Evan's name burned into the screen from how often he checked it.
No messages, no calls. That bothered him more than he thought it would.
So he left work early, not telling anyone.
Evan was sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by books and papers, his sleeves rolled up, hair messy, glasses slightly crooked; when Noah knocked the doors. Evan was about to stand up when Noah just barged in, unlocking the door without wasting any second.
Evan..he...he looked normal, Alive, Focused.
Noah stopped in the doorway.
"You're organizing your own crime scene?"
Evan looked up, startled. "You have a key?"
"You forgot you gave it to me when you were half-conscious."
"Oh."
Pause.
"…That feels illegal."
"It's romantic," Noah said.
Then immediately regretted existing.
Evan blinked.
"Is it?"
Noah coughed. "I meant...I mean...umm...practical...yes practical...like...like for medical emergencies."
"Sure."
Evan went back to sorting papers.
"You're home early."
"You didn't answer your phone."
"You didn't text."
"Oh...I'm bad at that."
"Yeah? So am I."
They both stood there, staring at each other with this useless fact between them.
Noah stepped inside, "what are you doing?"
"Just trying to map the murders"
"and?"
Evan tapped the floor, "They form...circles. Not
patterns. Influence zones."
Noah frowned. "That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to," Evan said quietly. "It just has to feel consistent."
Noah sat beside him.
Close.
Their knees touched. But neither of them moved away.
"Did you feel anything today?" Noah asked casually.
Actually, too casually.
Evan hesitated.
Then shook his head.
A Lie.
A gentle one.
Noah watched his throat move when he swallowed.
Though he didn't call him out, and didn't trust himself to.
"You didn't eat," Noah said instead.
"I had crackers."
"That's not food."
"I like crackers."
"No you don't."
Evan smiled. "You're bossy."
"You collapse dramatically."
"You bleed for broken plates."
"That was strategic."
Evan laughed.
Really laughed.
His laugh startled them both.
The room softened. Like, for five seconds, the world forgot to be cruel.
Then Evan's phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
He stiffened.
Noah noticed.
"Don't answer if you don't want to."
Evan stared at the screen.
Then silenced it.
"…Its probably a spam."
Noah nodded.
Didn't believe him.
Later Noah insisted on cooking some real food, which he did...BADLY!!
Evan stood with him, correcting him every here and there.
"You're holding the knife like it insulted your mother."
"It might."
"That's salt, not sugar."
"Same emotional category."
Evan bumped his shoulder lightly with Noah's.
Accident.
Not accident.
A spark. They didn't comment.
That night, Noah crashed at Evan's, again, he didn't leave. As if he belonged there.
And neither of them said anything about it.
They just existed in the same space.
Like it was slowly becoming allowed.