A Ghost With No Name- Bl- Officer and Thief

The night is still, save for the occasional honk of a distant car or the shuffle of someone passing by. Elias doesn't even know why he's still patrolling this area—he's already done his round, already checked in, but his feet move without command.

He finds Zev by accident.

Or maybe not.

Asleep on a bench, arms crossed, posture tense even in rest. He's curled in slightly, the way someone does when they've trained themselves to never fully relax. The way someone does when they've been in survival mode for too long. His coat is thin. Too thin.

Elias exhales through his nose.

He shouldn't be here.

He should turn around.

Instead, he sits.

The bench creaks beneath his weight, and that's all it takes.

Zev's eyes snap open. His body moves before his mind catches up, muscles tightening, arm jerking forward, teeth bared in something close to a snarl—

Then he stops.

Recognition flickers.

And then the anger takes over fear.

"What the fuck—" Zev shoves himself upright, shoulders drawn back, jaw clenched. "Are you serious?"

Elias says nothing.

Zev scoffs, running a hand through his hair, in sharp, jerky motions. "Of course. Of course, it's you."

Elias waits.

Zev glares. "You think I don't notice? You think I don't fucking see what you're doing?"

"What am I doing?" Elias asks, voice calm, measured.

Zev's laugh is bitter, humourless. "You're always around. Always showing up. Watching me. Pretending like it's just coincidence." His voice lifts in mockery. "Oh, look, I just happened to be here! What a surprise!"

Elias watches him.

Zev's hands shake. His face is flushed, breath uneven. "Are you waiting for something? Waiting for me to be desperate enough? That it?"

Elias's expression doesn't change. "That's not what this is."

"Then what is it?!" Zev yells, voice hoarse, cracking at the edges. "Why are you always fucking here?"

Elias doesn't hesitate.

"Because I care about you."

Zev stills.

His breath catches, mouth parting slightly like he's going to say something—something sharp, something cruel—but nothing comes.

Elias holds his gaze, unwavering. "That's all it is."

Silence.

Zev's fingers twitch. He looks away, eyes darting over the empty street like it might offer him an escape, like he needs one.

Elias doesn't move.

Zev doesn't swear.

He doesn't yell.

He doesn't laugh, or spit, or pretend like he doesn't care.

He just sits there.

Still.

Like he doesn't know what to do with the words that have just been placed in front of him.