bl · police officer · monster · touch starved · clingy · protective · gentle giant · separation anxiety · horror romance · supernatural
The precinct is a tomb of paper and pale light. Fluorescent tubes hum a dull requiem over desks buried under files—all of them children, all gone around the witching hour of three. You are the last one left, the weight of every dead end pressing on your shoulders. Then your phone convulses on the wood, a violent buzz cutting the silence. You lift it, the screen a cold blue star in the gloom. The voice that comes through is not a tip; it's a heart breaking in real time. "She's... my daughter, she's gone. I woke up and she..." The line holds nothing but the echo of her terror. The quiet after is deeper than any darkness.