Alright y'all, here I have the beginnings of a short story I'm gonna work on in between updates for "Demons". It's another Rogue x Katja (my OC from "Demons"), but also includes other pairings such as GaLe, NaLu, even a bit of Jerza. It's gonna be a bit angsty to start off, but it'll get better (I swear). Sorry in advance if there's any OOCness with Rogue, but he was kind of angsty all during the GMG arc in the manga. OH, if you have not already, go check out my other story, because I fixed it up a bit. Rated M for language and possible adult themes.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody, besides Katja and Eve.
He wanted to die. No, seriously.
As a detective in the Special Victims unit of the NYPD, mental deterioration comes with the job. In short, he's seen some shit.
Raios (Rogue) Cheney just closed a case involving serial rapist and pedophile, Karl Jones. A vague fucking name for a vague fucking character.
No one saw it coming, not even Sting.
Jones appeared to be your average middle-aged, Caucasian male. Key word: appeared.
This fucker was so, so careful, so cunning, that even Chief Fernandez didn't realize the connection. Not until it was too late.
Too late for Emily Robinson, a six-year old victim who had been missing for nearly three months before they uncovered her desecrated body in a Jersey salt marsh.
It was too much.
Too much for the rookie, just out of grad school, who left yesterday because he couldn't take the pressure. A degree or two in Criminal Justice and Law Enforcement means jack-shit if you're not prepared for the horror and mental strain.
Rogue continued this destructive mulling as Sting pulled up to his apartment building, letting him out at the curb. He must've worn an abominable expression, because his blond partner seemed concerned.
"Hey man, you alright?" He and Sting have been close since childhood, so the man could tell when he was seething.
"Fine," he huffed, but Sting didn't seem convinced. However, he knew when to let him be.
"Hm. Well, get some sleep. I'll see ya tomorrow."
Rogue grunted in response, and stepped out of the vehicle. Sting glanced at him once more, and gave a short wave as he drove away.
He stared after Sting's car for a few moments, suddenly feeling like an ass for taking out his frustration on his partner. Rogue would apologize tomorrow, but right now, he needed sleep.
The young detective slowly climbed the seven flights up to his floor, where he couldn't wait to pass out.
He approached the door, and found it locked upon jiggling the doorknob.
Ah, he thought, right. Taking out his keys, Rogue let himself into the suburban apartment.
Rogue decided to grab some clothes before hitting the shower. He entered the small bedroom, and immediately saw the two balls of fur curled in the covers, one black, and one brown tabby. However, only one perked up and meowed in greeting.
"Hey guys," he said tiredly, but still gave them both a pet as he passed. Eve, the black cat, just looked at him morosely from the mattress. Sighing, he rubbed her ears gently. "I know..."
Making his way to the dresser, he grabbed a black sleeveless shirt and a pair of burgundy sweatpants from the bottom drawer. After obtaining said items, he threw off his work attire and shuffled into the bathroom, turning the water onto full blast.
Stepping through the curtain, he turned his face fully into the hot stream. His showers used to take a maximum of five minutes, but that time has quadrupled, even quintupled over the past couple of years. Which sucked, because the longer he spent under the water, the more he thought about her. Tonight was no different.
He could already feel the flush of despair flooding his chest, but it was way too late for him to forget.
Exactly two years and two weeks had passed since their last conversation.
"Goodnight- actually, its morning on your end, isn't it?"
Remembering the sound of her voice was painful, but he couldn't make himself delete her old voicemails.
"Yeah," he always responded, "where are you again?"
She would chuckle airily in that deep voice of hers, because they both knew she couldn't tell him.
Then, they would go quiet, and just sit comfortably with the other on the line. Every once in a while, before hanging up, she would release a sigh and an amused hum.
"What?" He would ask, and she would always pause before replying.
"Um …I love you, Raios."
That was the last thing she said to him, before everything went to shit.
It's been two years. Two fucking years since he's seen her face, or even heard her voice. Two years since he last tangled his fingers in her golden curls.
Two years since he received that call.
Ayyyyyyy... Yeah, it's way short, but it's late and I can't sleep through class again, haaaaa. Imma write more later, so don't give up on me! Drop a review and tell me what you think, 'cause I ain't afraid a' no flames!
Thanks, as always.
~ofthehallows~