Safe | ZACK FOSTER [ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟐 ]

CHAPTER XVIII - A RECORD OF THE PAST

"Y/N."

You snapped your head in the direction of the voice. It was sweet, and familiar. "Could you please deliver these?" You glanced at the papers you were handed by your colleague.
You hum in response and agreement, taking the stacks of papers.

It was a bright morning. Sun was shining, the sky was blue. On a day like this, you were on your way as usual to deliver paperwork to your officials, or for a lack of better words, the higher-ups in your job's affiliation.

It was day after day; the cycle never ended, and to be quite frank, you never really minded it either. After all, you at least got paid enough to eat and have a stable home. There's not much else you could ask for, except well, maybe a stable mentality, though it's not like your job would cover your psychological therapeutical needs. That's your problem.

Your colleague, Denir, was a guy you'd been stuck with throughout the past years, and lest be said, he was tolerable enough. At least neither of you spent time cussing out each other, so, you felt it was a smooth ride so far; you did get along relatively well, after all.

He had always been an odd individual, but you couldn't say you weren't wandering about with a screw loose either. His dark, gray hair was a particular feature that you'd always taken note of. His green, verdant hues were easy to get lost in, and while certainly he was a lunatic in some's eyes, you couldn't deny he was quite the looker.

Fair skin, smooth and without a scratch, a voice soothing enough to draw in the attention of others, the only thing that drove you apart from him was the fact he wasn't exactly a man of his word. More often than not, he simply smooth-talked his way out of problems instead of directly confronting them.

Nothing but a coward.
A fucking liar.

You tried talking to him once, asking him why not have him be more sincere with others, but as you thought, he brushed it off with ease. You ended up giving up on him changing for the better, and instead, attempted to remain on good terms so you wouldn't end up being used for the worst either.

You knew it'd be bad to end up on his bad side, and once you fell under his precautious gaze, he wouldn't let down his guard, and most likely would shut you out furthermore, which wasn't ideal, to put it lightly.

The two of you had worked together on several cases, so losing a potentially valuable and efficient co-worker by your side wouldn't be great, to say the least. Some day, he called you. It was the evening, sun had already set, and you were preparing to head out and find a place to sleep, but you were detained by him.

"Hey."

You glanced back at him, slightly tilting your head and mildly raising a brow, as if to ask silently what was it he needed at an hour like this. "There's something I'd like you to answer for me," he stated nonchalantly, merely continuing to sign paperwork whilst he talked, the pen in his hands inking the dusted page that lay beneath his hand, his gaze focused.

"Yeah? Out with it already," you replied, now turning around to face him whilst you held some papers in one hand and a bag on the other. He stayed silent, swallowing a lump on his throat as if something important weighed heavily on his mind, something you weren't used to.

"... What're your thoughts on █̴̪̰̖̞͕̖̬͇̱̈█̶̻̽█̵̥̺͔̳̹͙̪̪͈̐█̸̟͈̆̈́̎̚͘█̴̧̘͎̽̀̃?"

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.  .  .

. . .

. .

.

"Hey."

"Hey!" 

"Wake up!" 

The fuck... ?

"Snap out of it! Y/N!?"

Your vision was blurry, and it slowly cleared as you opened your eyes. You felt someone shaking you rather violently, as if to kick you back into your senses. Huh...?

"What in hell did— fucking god, you're finally awake," Zack slightly growled, as he sighed sharply. "Jesus, why'd I even bother dragging you out here?..."
You blinked, trying to gain a grasp on your surroundings as you breathed a bit raggedly.

"The fuck is going on...?" you stated. "How long was I... out?" The black-haired male slightly scoffed. "Roughly two hours." Your eyes widened. "Two what? Oh my fucking god, you could've been seen and who knows what in—"
"Just shut the fuck up and sit your pretty ass down," he interrupted. "No weird shit happened while you were gone, and we're near your house."

And with that, you stayed quiet, as you stayed still, just gazing at his eyes, which had a mildly reassuring glint to them. "We're going back home, you hear? You're going to get yourself some damn sleep. I don't want to hear you complaining either."

And before you could say another word, he picked you up, carrying you as if you were a sack of potatoes. "And hold this, will you? I'm already doin' ya a favor by bringing you back," he said bluntly, handing you his scythe, to which you frantically held, making sure not to drop it. He muttered a silent 'thanks' as he proceeded to walk back.

It seemed the day had just barely begun.

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Three days was all it took.
Denir became an exile.

You hadn't heard another word from him after he had asked you his question, and in desperation, you tried to run through the estate of your job, entering every office and room to find him, only to find he had left.

He'd been fired, in a way, but rather, exiled was the word they preferred to use. He'd been silenced. You couldn't help but feel a slight tingle of dread in the back of your mind creep back up on you as you dashed back to your shared office. You slammed shut the door as soon as you entered as you open every cabinet, searching through every paper, to see if there was any trace left of the man.

There was none.
He was gone.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cursed quietly at yourself as you only saw an untouched paper on his desk, one you hadn't bothered to look at. You took it, and read it.

A letter.

A case.

A lead.

A message.

Penned in red ink.

"Motherfucker...!"