Chapter Text
Outside his office was noise, not the usual noise but a real ruckus. There was no shouting, but laughter, bright, unrestrained laughter. It cut through the air and wafted into his office. The voices came from the corridor just outside their unit, followed by quick footsteps and the unmistakable sound of someone greeting half the floor as if they had been gone for a while. Which apparently they had.
Kamin didn’t look up from his screen. He kept his posture relaxed, squared, fingers steady on the mouse as he scrolled through the witness statement he’d been annotating. He told himself that the sound meant nothing. People came and went all the time. He himself was proof of that.
Transfers, returns, promotions. It was just how it goes. Still, the laughter lingered.
“Is that…?” One of the junior officers standing in front of Kamin’s office muttered.
“No way, I thought he wasn’t coming back.” Another replied. Kamin frowned slightly. Not because of the conversation, but because something in his chest tightened. Just slightly. But the same way it sometimes did shortly before a nightmare dragged him under. He tried to ignore it, but couldn’t shake the feeling entirely.
The footsteps came closer, and the laugh sharpened. Accompanied by an animated voice, warm, expressive, and impossible to miss.
“...I’m telling you, almost three months stuck playing mediator in the family, family I haven’t met before on top of it all. I’d rather interrogate ten murder suspects back to back.”
“You say that now, Jade.”
“I mean it,” the voice of that Jade person insisted.
“Alright, guys, get back to your work. He’s back, your colleague, not a celebrity.” Kamin thought that this voice sounded familiar. If he wasn’t mistaken, it belonged to one of his officers, Ken. And his curiosity finally won over. He stood up from his desk and walked to the door. Risking a look outside his office. The man standing there, talking to his team, didn’t look like he quite belonged. He wore a worn-out brown leather jacket over a dark shirt. Blue jeans and brown boots rounded up his look. He didn’t look like a detective, but rather like someone who escaped from a hair wash ad. Speaking of hair, his fell him in slight curls over the face, not too long, but long enough, to hide his eyes when he moved. The guy was smiling, not a polite, professional curve, but a full open. It was the kind of smile that reached his eyes and invited the world in, without asking permission.
“Did you miss me?” The man asked cheerfully. And a chorus of greetings answered him.
“Of course, we missed you, Jade, how could we not?”
“It was so quiet here without you.”
“It was about time you came back.”
Jade laughed easily, taking off his jacket and tossing it over his shoulder. He clapped one officer on the shoulder, whispered something to another, and accepted a coffee cup from someone else.
Kamin watched the scene from afar. And he felt it before he could understand. The sudden pull. The wrong sense of recognition. It hit him low in the chest, sharp enough that his breath hitched. His fingers curled instinctively around the frame of the door. No. Not this again. He forced his gaze to look away from this Jade guy. He had seen hundreds of faces in his career. Even thousands. His mind was excellent at pattern recognition, too good sometimes. But this was just a false alarm, Kamin told himself. Just an echo. Another coincidence his brain tried turning into something more, something meaningful.
“Hey, who is this? New guy?” Jade’s voice was closer now, too close. Kamin’s pulse thudded, once, hard. He looked up again. Jade stood across from him, leaning against a wall, curiosity written openly all over his face. Up close, the effect this man had on Kamin was even worse. The familiar, not-so-familiar feeling clawed its way up Kamin’s spine. Jade’s eyes were bright, observant, and warm, too warm. And that damn smile. Kamin swallowed. The smile shouldn’t be on Jade’s face. It had no right to be there, and it didn’t belong to him.
“This is Inspector Kamin, Kananon Woraphatchanthra.” Officer Ken stepped beside Jade. “He transferred here while you were gone.”
“Inspector, huh?” Jade’s gaze wandered over Kamin’s face. “Captain Jade. Guess I missed your first day here by a few weeks.” He greeted the other with his hands folded and a slight bow. When he saw the confused expression on Kamins’ face, he extended his hand with a smile. “Do you prefer a handshake?”
Kamin stared at the offered hand just for half a second too long. Something twisted in his chest, tight and aching, like his ribs were trying to protect his heart from something it already knew was dangerous. He moved slowly, the motion controlled, deliberate. He took Jade’s hand. The contact was brief, yet still felt like a shock. Kamin’s fingers were cool and steady. Jade’s grip was warm, confident, and lingered just a beat longer than strictly necessary. Kamin pulled back first.
“Inspector Kamin.” He said. “Seems like a welcome back, is appropriate.” Jade tilted his head, studying the Inspector with open interest. Not suspicion, not hostility, just genuine curiosity. As if Kamin were a puzzle, he hadn’t decided yet whether he wanted to solve it.
“You’re quiet,” Jade said. “Most Inspectors I got to know love grand entrances.”
“I prefer results,” Kamin replied. “Besides, we have the same rank. I’m just the head of the team.” Jade laughed softly.
“Fair enough.”
“Well, you’re assigned to Kamin’s team now.” Ken interrupted the conversation. Jade’s eyebrow rose.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Ken continued. “We could use your experience.” Jade glanced between Ken and Kamin, then shrugged.
“Works for me. If he doesn’t mind me, that is.” Kamin’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“I mind inefficiency.” Jade’s grin widened, undeterred.
“Good thing, I’m very efficient.” Their eyes held for a second too long. Kamin was the first to break. He went back to his office, sitting down at his desk. His heart was beating harder than it had any right to. He focused on the file in front of him, on the familiar comfort of paper, facts, and logic. This man was nothing. Just a colleague. Too loud for him. Too casual for him. Just too much. And yet, something old and aching stirred beneath Kamin’s ribs, whispering a name he refused to hear.
In the door frame of his office leaned Jade, watching him, with a faint furrow between the brows, smile softening, not fading, just adjusting.
“Guess we’ll be working closely,” Jade said. Kamin didn’t look up.
“Yes,” he replied. “It seems we will.” Neither of them noticed the way the air seemed to tighten between them. The universe, patient and cruel, had begun its work again.