This chapter is really damn long i'll be back i hope
---
Elias König was a man of order. Of routine. Of structure.
He woke at precisely 5:30 AM every morning. Always. His alarm never had the chance to ring because he was always awake before it. Muscle memory. Military training. He ran five miles before the city even began to stir, the early morning air sharp against his skin, his breathing measured. Cold showers. Black coffee. A report waiting on his desk before anyone else arrived at the precinct.
That was his life.
At least, it used to be.
Now, some mornings, his routine faltered. His alarm actually had to wake him. His runs felt sluggish, distracted. His mind, which should have been focused on work, drifted toward something—someone—else.
Someone he had no business thinking about as often as he did.
Zev.
The street-smart, sharp-tongued, self-destructive mess who had somehow forced his way into Elias's carefully controlled life.
Elias had spent years building walls around himself. Discipline wasn't just a practice—it was who he was. Rules gave structure to a world that made no sense. Duty gave him purpose. He had spent his entire life following orders, training himself not to hesitate, not to waver. His emotions, his wants, his needs—none of those had ever mattered.
So why was he suddenly allowing himself to bend?
Why was he altering his patrols, ensuring they passed through the areas Zev frequented?
Why was he buying extra painkillers without even thinking, knowing that sooner or later, Zev would need them?
Why was he standing in front of his mirror in the mornings, adjusting his tie more than necessary, wondering—would Zev make fun of it today?
Elias wasn't an idiot. He knew what this was. He knew what it shouldn't be.
Zev wasn't just some troubled kid he had decided to help. That would have been easy to explain. No—Elias was drawn to him. And he wasn't sure he liked the way it made him feel.
Zev was the opposite of everything Elias had built himself to be. Chaotic where Elias was structured. Reckless where Elias was careful. A sharp edge where Elias had learned to smooth himself into something controlled.
Yet, despite all of that—or maybe because of it—Elias saw something in him. A glimpse of something buried beneath all that cynicism, all that self-hatred.
He doesn't believe he deserves kindness.
That was the first thing Elias had realised about Zev. The second was even worse.
He expects me to leave.
That thought sat heavy in Elias's chest.
Zev had been abandoned so many times that he had built his entire existence around it. His defences weren't just walls—they were weapons, wielded with precision. Sarcasm. Deflection. Mockery. Anything to keep people from getting too close.
But Elias had spent years learning how to read people. And he had seen the cracks.
The hesitation before accepting a meal. The way Zev lingered when Elias gave him his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to take it. The slight, almost imperceptible way his breathing would hitch whenever Elias called him by name.
Zev.
Elias had said it once, just to see. Just to test. And in that moment, Zev had looked at him like the ground beneath his feet had shifted.
Like no one had spoken his name in a way that meant something in a long, long time.
Elias clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the steering wheel as he drove toward the precinct. His routine had changed, yes, but his discipline hadn't. He wouldn't allow himself to get careless.
Still, as he parked and stepped out of his car, as he made his way into the station, something gnawed at him.
He had never been the kind of man who wanted something for himself. He had always been content with duty, with discipline, with the certainty of knowing his place.
But now, for the first time in his life, he wanted something.
And that something had sharp blue eyes, a cynical mouth, and a name Elias was finding harder and harder to forget.
---
The station was already alive with movement when Elias arrived. Phones ringing. Officers talking. The smell of burnt coffee lingering in the air. As he walked through, conversations quieted just slightly—subtle, but noticeable. He carried an authority that demanded respect, not just because of his rank but because he earned it.
He nodded to a few officers, his posture as rigid as ever. He liked the weight of responsibility. Liked having things to do, objectives to complete.
Today, however, he found himself staring at his desk longer than usual.
A case file sat open in front of him—one of the many unsolved crimes still hanging over the department. A string of robberies in the Lower West Side. They weren't violent, just precise. Wallets, watches, prescription medication. Small things. Taken by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Elias exhaled through his nose.
Zev.
He didn't have proof, but he didn't need it. He had seen how Zev moved—how he scanned crowds, how his fingers twitched just slightly before slipping into a pocket. He was good. Too good. If Elias hadn't been trained to notice the little things, he might not have caught it at all.
He should turn the file over. Let someone else deal with it.
But he didn't.
Instead, he closed it. Tucked it away.
"Commander," a voice called from across the room. "Captain wants you on the Phantom case."
Elias nodded once, already standing. His movements were automatic, practised. Routine. Duty. That was what mattered.
And yet—
As he made his way to the briefing room, his gaze flicked toward the windows. Toward the city beyond them.
Somewhere out there, Zev was probably in another alleyway, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp, watching for his next opportunity. Elias hated thinking about it. But he also couldn't stop.
Because Zev was alone.
And Elias didn't want him to be.
---
The meeting was a long one. The "Midnight Phantom" had escalated, leaving bodies behind now. The victims were always the same—people like Zev. People no one would miss.
New patterns were showing. He wasn't just stealing. Some of the bodies left behind weren't even robbed. This meant that they were dealing with a serial killer that wanted to kill.
Elias sat still as the others spoke, his fingers interlaced in front of him. His face betrayed nothing.
Inside, however, his thoughts churned.
Zev is exposed.
He hadn't thought much of it at first. Zev was a survivor—he knew how to avoid trouble. But a serial killer targeting people like him?
No. That was different. That was dangerous in a way Elias couldn't ignore.
When the unit assignments were given, Elias spoke before anyone else could.
"I'm taking Lower West Side."
No one questioned him. Just like always.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing himself back into work mode. This wasn't about Zev.
Except it was.
Because the moment the meeting ended, instead of handling administrative tasks, Elias walked toward his locker. Shrugged on his coat. Checked his gun. Adjusted his badge.
And then, before he could second-guess himself, he was out the door.
Looking for Zev.
---
Patrol was quiet. It usually was at this hour—too late for morning workers, too early for the nightlife to take over. Elias moved through the streets with practised ease, his gaze sweeping the familiar alleyways and side streets.
He found Zev exactly where he expected.
Perched on a bench outside a convenience store, hoodie pulled up, elbows resting on his knees. His eyes were sharp as ever, flicking up the moment Elias approached.
Zev huffed. "Took you long enough. Thought maybe you'd finally decided to do your actual job instead of following me around."
Elias arched a brow. "You're that eager to be arrested?"
Zev smirked, tilting his head. "Depends. You into that kinda thing, officer?"
Elias didn't react. He never did. He had learned quickly that Zev enjoyed testing people—poking for weaknesses, for cracks in their composure. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Instead, he crossed his arms. "The Phantom's getting bolder. I don't want you near any of this."
Zev scoffed. "Yeah? Well, what you want and what I need don't exactly match up."
Elias clenched his jaw. He hated this. Hated that he had no real power here. That no matter what he said, Zev would keep doing what he had to in order to survive.
He wanted to tell him to stop. To leave this life behind. But he knew better than to think words alone would change anything. So instead, he pulled something from his coat. A small paper bag.
Zev frowned. "The hell is that?"
"Bread," Elias said simply. "You need food."
Zev didn't move. His smirk faltered, lips pressing together in something unreadable.
Elias didn't waver. Just stood there, arm extended, waiting.
This time, Zev didn't scoff. Didn't tell Elias that feeding him isn't going to "fix all his problems". His jaw didn't tense. His fingers didn't twitch like he wanted to shove the bag away, like he wanted to shove Elias away.
This time, after a long moment, he took it.
Not with his usual sharp movements. Not like he was swiping something off a table before anyone could notice.
He took it carefully. Intentionally.
Elias saw the difference.
Zev stared at the bag in his hands. His thumb brushed over the folded paper. He swallowed hard, then quickly turned his head away, like looking at it too long would make him weak.
"Tch." His voice was quieter. "You're a real pain, you know that?"
Elias didn't respond. He just watched him.
Eventually, Zev ripped open the bag and took a bite, chewing like it was nothing, like it didn't matter.
But it did.
They sat there in silence.
And when Elias finally stood to leave, Zev's voice stopped him.
"...You're different, you know."
Elias turned slightly. "How so?"
Zev didn't look at him. Just tapped his fingers against the bag, gaze flicking to the side. "You just... are."
Elias watched him for a moment longer. Then, finally, he nodded.
"Get some rest, Zev."
And with that, he walked away.
But as he made his way back toward his car, something lingered in his mind.
He had spent his whole life following rules. Had spent years being the man people expected him to be—disciplined, controlled, untouchable.
Yet, with Zev...
He was different.
And for the first time in a long, long time—
He didn't want to go back.