Short Story: K Overhears Rumors About the Detective and L's Relationship [Kyle Version]

This story is set a year before the main events.

P.S. I apologize for the slight delay in the release, I fell asleep and forgot to schedule the post.

Kyle notices many things. The good ones...

"You've been glowing lately. Spill!" the officer exclaimed, causing the other officer beside them to look away, almost shyly.

"It's nothing..." the other officer replied, absentmindedly fidgeting with the engagement ring on his finger.

The bad ones...

"What is this?" the officer asked the specialist, confusion evident in their tone. "How did you manage to bruise yourself like that?"

"I just got pinned by a door," the specialist replied with a faint smile, pulling down her sleeve to hide the bruise on her wrist. "It was an accident," she continued, flinching slightly when the officer abruptly lifted their hand to scratch the back of their head.

And things that aren't even worth noticing...

"Did you hear the news? Officer Conlan and the detective are dating!"

Kyle freezes, turning sharply toward the two officers bantering near the exit of the administrative office.

"The detective's car is broken, and he just gave his friend a ride. That's hardly proof of dating," the other one replies, and the officer who spoke first clicks their tongue.

"But I heard the detective spent the night at his place! He even asked whether he should wait for them this evening, too. That's already enough to say," the officer continues, and Kyle feels his fingernails dig painfully into the clipboard he's holding.

Fucking rumors…

Kyle hates everything about them: how far-reaching they can be, how baseless they often are, and yet, at the same time, how there's usually a grain of truth buried somewhere within. Or… how they can eventually come true, sooner or later.

But all of this is compounded when it comes to the detective—a fact that Kyle finds almost unbearably annoying.

Because for some reason, the detective is often the subject of discussion—both good and bad—and Kyle always tries to nip these rumors in the bud whenever he encounters one.

As required by protocol, he tells himself, secretly hoping the detective never finds out, as there's no explanation for the sharp reaction it always manages to elicit—only a mess of emotions, similar to the way a single glance from the detective stirs within him.

Kyle doesn't like it: the vulnerability it brings or the intensity with which it manifests.

He had noticed this about himself from the first day they met, from the moment their eyes locked: the barely perceptible jolt of electricity he felt that has since evolved into a suffocating tension, overwhelming him and begging to be released in any possible way—through words or actions.

And the closer they interact, the more it irritates him—the detective and everything associated with them, rumors included.

Reinforced by this fact, his body seems to march itself toward the two employees, whose snide expressions fade as soon as they see him approaching.

"Inspector Moreno!" They both straighten up, nodding in greeting. Kyle doesn't return the gesture; his jaw tightens even more.

"I see you're very busy," Kyle says, his tone cold and steely enough to make them look worried.

As they should be.

Before they can respond, he glances at their ID cards—a familiar gesture to all who work in the department, carrying an underlying meaning. "I can assure you that if this keeps up, you'll have plenty of time to relax on a permanent weekend."

His gaze sweeps over them, daring them to speak, but they know better. At least something…

"Get to work. After your shift, make an effort to familiarize yourselves with the rules regarding disciplinary behavior in the workplace. If I hear that you've violated them again, there won't be a next time," Kyle warns in a low tone, meaning every word.

"S-Sorry!"

"Of course!"

They hurry off before Kyle can dismiss them, and his gaze follows until they disappear around the corner.

People like that make him sick—what they do and the consequences their words can have on others. Fucking morons…

Adjusting his shirt collar, Kyle glances around at the rest of the employees, knowing they watched the interaction carefully. They immediately avert their eyes, suddenly engrossed in their work.

Good. He hopes everyone remembers what he said.

Without wasting another second, Kyle walks out of the administrative area and heads toward his office. He knows he shouldn't believe the rumors and shouldn't care, but the words they said still haunt him despite every effort he makes to focus.

Why does he even bother, knowing it's futile? He knows all too well that when it comes to the detective—

No. Kyle grinds his teeth. Don't think about it. It's none of your business. It's not—

But he freezes again as he turns into the corridor leading to the investigative division and sees the detective—not alone.

Something sharp and unpleasant pierces his chest as he takes in the scene, which appears blurry even with his eye contacts on: the detective and their former partner standing close, quietly talking to each other, their eyes never leaving one another, creating a warm, invincible bubble that even the most inattentive observer can perceive.

Though he can't see the detective's eyes, he can see the emotion in their friend's gaze—an adoration that far surpasses the usual boundaries of friendship. It's hard to ignore, even harder not to believe that there's some truth in the rumors he shouldn't care about.

And yet, here he is, watching them maintain eye contact as the former partner runs a hand down the detective's forearm before slowly taking their hand in his.

Something cold and heavy squeezes Kyle's chest, making it hard to breathe.

Not wanting to witness this for reasons he cannot comprehend, he abruptly turns away, heading down the opposite hallway that leads the longest way to his destination.

His hand aches from the tension of the force he uses to grip the clipboard, as the sickeningly tender gesture carves itself into his memory before he can even stop it, only to torment him with no fucking reason behind it.

Burying his hand in his hair, Kyle quickens his stride, but it doesn't help him escape the intrusive thoughts reminding him that it's going to be a long, stressful day.

.

.

.

Later that evening…

Kyle rubs the corners of his eyes wearily, but the gesture does nothing to relieve the tension that makes every muscle in his back ache. But today, it's not just the work that leaves him feeling so drained…

Ugh! Before his thoughts can begin to torment him again, a knock on the door abruptly silences his every internal struggle.

Kyle's heart skips a heavy beat of recognition: he can always tell it's the detective just by the way they knock—a seemingly useless perception that somehow makes him react this way every time the detective shows up in his office, even when he expects them.

Why is this so fucking hard?

Pursing his lips, he lowers his head to the report and says, "Come in."

The quiet creak of the door fills the room, followed by the detective's voice that cuts through the silence of his dim office.

"Kyle." The sound of his name, the tone of their voice, their very presence, and the weight of their gaze—all of it strangely replaces the tension with a different kind, compelling him to look up. "Do you have a moment? I need to clarify the order of procedures listed in this morning's report."

As the detective speaks, Kyle takes a moment to briefly absorb their appearance. The outerwear casually draped over the detective's shoulders suggests that they were about to leave, but since they're here, this matter must be important, and saying 'no' isn't an option.

When his eyes meet the detective's again, a shiver runs down his spine. The tension that filled him as soon as the detective stepped over his threshold ignites a heat that spreads through his veins like poison.

Kyle scowls harder. "How long are you going to stand in the doorway? Let's get this over with."

His words come out sharper than he intended, and he quickly lowers his eyes back to the report in front of him that has long been forgotten, trying to avoid seeing the detective's reaction.

Pull yourself together, idiot.

After what feels like an eternity, the muffled sound of his pounding heart finally merges with the quiet tread of their footsteps. The tension in his posture begins to ease as, out of the corner of his eye, he sees the detective take a seat, holding out a folder filled with files.

Accepting the folder, Kyle can't help but meet the detective's gaze again. He feels his shoulders completely relax when he notices there are no signs of irritation or disappointment—only the calm tiredness that a part of him knows he is responsible for.

I need to finish this quickly and make Surname leave. For more than one reason…

As Kyle tries to concentrate on the report, the detective begins to explain, "I wasn't sure if I should have come to you, but Klemens insisted." The detective sighs, their tone uncertain as they continue, "Because the interrogation procedure was mishandled, we had to expend extra effort to catch the suspect and re-interview them."

The detective's words instantly sharpen his focus. Flipping to the relevant paragraph, he quickly scans its content before following the detective's pencil notes on the stamped report.

Surname remains cautious, even after a year on the job. Smart...

It takes Kyle a moment to finish reading everything the detective brought him, and then he closes the folder and tosses it onto his desk. Fucking idiots…

For as long as Kyle has worked as an inspector, he has never ceased to be amazed by how negligent most employees are about their jobs and how much extra work it creates—not just for him but for others as well.

Following this thought, he shifts his full attention to the detective. They've been working together for a year now, and Kyle had expected... worse. Much worse.

But seeing their dedication, how quickly they're catching on, and the progress they're making—he lowers his eyes back to the report before the detective can read those thoughts in his gaze.

Because Kyle isn't the only one who can notice things.

"You did the right thing by letting me know," Kyle finally says, surprised by the calmness of his own voice.

But the moment of peace fades quickly as the events of this afternoon resurface in his mind, reminding him of the protocol violation he encountered and everything that came with it—from the rumors to the unpleasant emotions they caused him to experience—intensifying his earlier annoyance even more.

"For the future," he adds before the detective can respond, his voice turning sharp and raspy under the weight of the moment, "always let me know if there's a breach. Protocol. Disciplinary. Anything you think is worth reporting."

His words hang between them, enveloped in a heavy silence. For a moment, the detective holds his gaze, and Kyle understands their intent almost immediately.

This happens more often than he can count—the detective trying to read his eyes and expression—and it irritates him even more. He feels his brow furrow deeper, and just as the silence becomes unbearable, the detective finally breaks it.

"If I report every disciplinary issue I notice, half the office will have to hear that there won't be a next time for them," the detective responds calmly, their eyes never leaving his. "That seems a bit too harsh, don't you think?"

Kyle freezes, and it takes him a moment to realize that the detective is already aware of what happened this afternoon.

Of course, they are. Fucking rumors.

There's nothing wrong with the detective knowing about it, but for some reason, heat rushes to Kyle's face and neck as a mix of emotions washes over him. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself.

"This is unacceptable," he mutters angrily, unable to suppress the rising emotion in his chest. "Spreading rumors not only undermines the department's professionalism but also poses a risk to our operational security. The more people discuss internal matters, the greater the chance that sensitive information could be unintentionally exposed or exploited."

"I know, but—"

"No 'buts', Surname," he cuts the detective off sternly. "If this happens again, report it to me. I'll handle it personally. As I should."

Once again, silence fills his gloomy office. It's always this way with the detective, but this time, something feels different—and it's hard to ignore that difference.

Even though Kyle knows he hasn't said anything that would cross professional boundaries, something heavy and unspoken in the detective's gaze quickly reinforces the earlier tension, making his pulse quicken.

It would be so easy to break this moment by simply looking away, but Kyle finds himself unable to do so, greedily absorbing the emotions this shift has evoked and wanting more.

More to say, more to be, more to do—everything he knows he shouldn't indulge in.

The thought instantly taints every pleasant and fulfilling sensation stirred by a single look they exchanged with a bitter heaviness.

Sensing the sudden change within him, the detective's gaze becomes carefully guarded once more, the detachment in their expression piercing Kyle's heart like needles.

"I'll keep that in mind," the detective finally says, slowly rising from the chair.

As the detective turns away and takes a couple of steps toward the door, preparing to leave his office, something inside Kyle snaps.

"Surname." The words spill out before he can stop them. The detective glances back, and Kyle rises from his seat, trying to make the movement appear less abrupt. "I'll give you a ride." Fuck! What am I doing? "Unless your… friend is already waiting for you."

There are no words to express the embarrassment Kyle feels, fully aware that words can't be taken back. Still, while part of him wishes he could erase what he just said, another part needs to know if—

"Are you sure?" the detective asks carefully. "You still have a lot of work to do…" Their voice trails off as their eyes drift over the mountain of folders on his desk before meeting his gaze again.

Kyle huffs, shortening the distance between them. "I asked, didn't I?" he replies, stopping beside them to grab the jacket hanging on the rack behind them. "I need a break, and I'll be back at the department after I drop you off."

The detective doesn't respond, holding his gaze in silence. Neither of them moves, and Kyle suddenly becomes aware that the space between them feels closer than necessary.

But he's the one who caused this…

Yet, the detective doesn't step back, and neither does he, pulling on his jacket before the detective can say 'yes'—a word he desperately needs to hear, more than he's willing to admit.

"I'd really appreciate it if you did. My car broke down... as you probably already know," the detective says after a moment, tilting their head slightly.

Kyle doesn't respond, overwhelmed by the relief that washes over him at the knowledge that this… friend is no longer the issue, at least for today.

The farther he stays away from Surname, the fewer rumors there will be, Kyle tells himself, feeling oddly… lighter.

"Thank you," the detective adds. Kyle nods, his gaze still fixed on them as he opens the door. He knows that if he speaks, the hoarseness in his voice will betray the vulnerability he feels being so close to them and the unsettling memory of another man's hand touching the detective so affectionately—a touch that will never be allowed by him or to him.

Because someone like him just… doesn't need this; he's not worth it, and everything he says and does only proves that.

As the detective turns away, waiting for him to fully open the door, Kyle's hand involuntarily reaches out toward their upper back, intending to offer a gentle nudge—an impulse ignited by the memory that haunts him and the urge to understand what the detective's friend felt when he touched them.

Would it... Would it be as good as it made their friend's eyes reflect?

The opportunity to understand this is so perfect, especially with such a small, unnecessary gesture—one that many would disregard or overlook entirely.

And yet, at the last moment, Kyle clenches his fist, forcing his hand down. The ghost of their warmth lingers on his fingertips, serving as a reminder of the relief that leaves a bitter aftertaste.

When the detective finally exits the office, Kyle closes the door behind him and quickly heads to the parking lot, hyper-aware of the distance the detective keeps behind him—farther than respectful, yet close enough to be palpable, making his thoughts wander and his heart race.

Does he regret what he suggested and how close he came to giving in to the aching need to reach out? Yes... and no.

But there's only one thing Kyle knows for sure: this is the first time he is giving the detective a ride, and the escalating tension between them won't make it any easier.

While one part of him still berates him about his words and actions, another part tells him that maybe it's just a small step—something good and simple he can experience before he fucks everything up again.

Just as he always does...