Kim has to knock several times on the apartment door. You consider offering to punch through it, if only as a joke. But your hand is still aching from last time. Finally you hear footsteps coming towards the door. A skinny man opens it. "Whaddaya want?" he says, leaning on the doorframe.

"There have been reports of sounds of an altercation in your apartment, sir," Kim says.

"So?" the man says. "That a crime now?"

"No, but there's been several murders in this building. Two recent. We've come to check you haven't made it three," you say.

Kim gives you a look. You thought saying that would make you seem intimidating in a professional way, but Kim's look suggests he doesn't think so.

The man narrows his eyes. A vein in his neck pulses. "Look pal, you can't just come around here accusing me of somethin' like that."

"Do you live here alone?" Kim asks.

"No, I live with my… uh…" the man's eyes dart about, "my friend. Yeah. My friend."

"Do you mind if we come in for a moment? Then we can assure your neighbours that there is nothing for them to worry about."

"Which one of 'em's been snitchin' eh?" the skinny man says, finally taking his hand off the doorframe.

"Well-" you begin.

"Detective."

"I was going to say we can't tell him for obvious reasons," you say, and Kim shrinks back slightly. You turn to the man. "Well?"

The skinny man sighs and gestures for you to come inside.

In the small living room, a heavyset man looks up from his book. He has bruises around one eye and on his cheek, and congealed blood has run from his nose and dried on his upper lip. His eyes dart from you to Kim. "Don't hurt me!" he cries, holding up his book to shield his face.

"Sir, we aren't going to hurt you," Kim says.

You hold up your hands to show they are empty. "We've just come to see if everything is all right here," you say.

"Don't take him away! He's a good man, my, my, um, brother."

The skinny man raises a hand and for a moment it looks like he is going to hit the other man, but then he pats him on the shoulder and grins nervously at the two of you.

"Brothers? Friends? Which one is it?" you ask.

"Harry," Kim hisses, a note of warning in his voice.

"Ain't two guys allowed to be both these days?" the skinny man says.

The bigger man laughs nervously.

"What happened to your face?" you ask.

"Oh. Erm. Stevie was, er, doing some repairs and uh," the big man's eyes cast around the room, "I accidentally got in the way of his tools."

The smaller man's face contorts as if he is trying to hide another expression behind his smile. Even the worst detective in the world could tell that he does not agree with his companion's account.

"Is that right?" Kim asks, staring at the smaller man, Stevie. He takes out his notebook.

Stevie nods, eyes wide. "I, uh, left the stove on," he says, shuffling sideways towards the kitchen.

"Is that what really happened?" Kim asks in a low voice.

The heavyset man stares at him for a long moment, then nods once.

"What's your name?"

"Stu."

"How long have you two lived together?" you ask.

"Years," Stu says, barely audible.

"Do you usually get on well?"

"Yeah."

"But he uses you as a punching bag sometimes?"

The big man's eyes start to water. "It's not like that!" he cries.

"If you're in danger, we can help you," Kim says.

Stu shakes his head.

"We know what's going on, the neighbours have complained," you say.

"We'll be quiet," Stu says, clutching his book tightly.

"Is there somewhere else you can go when he gets angry?"

Stu looks down. "I don't wanna go away. I love him. Never loved anyone else. Never will," he says. He looks up at the two of you, and adds, "Please don't tell anyone."

Kim closes his notebook and tucks it into his pocket. "Your secret's safe with us," he says. "I think that's all. Let's go, detective."

"No," you say. "We can't just leave them like this."

"Yes. We can."

"But-"

"They know how to contact us if they need us," Kim says, looking over at Stu pointedly.

Kim gestures to you, and you follow him out of the apartment. You walk in silence down the corridor and down four sets of stairs.

"Do you think what I said to them might have made things worse?" you ask as you exit the building.

Kim shrugs. "There is nothing we can do. We'll only return when one of them kills the other."

"That's a terribly cynical view to take."

"It is, isn't it?" Kim says, sounding as if he is surprised with himself. "But I am sure you have seen as many cases of domestic violence as I have, detective."

You open your mouth to say something, but then think better of it and just nod. You look around at your surroundings, trying to find something less distressing to focus on. "Hey Kim, you haven't seen it yet, have you?"

"It?"

"Yeah, it's not far from here. You know, the mural."

"The mural?" he says, furrowing his brow. "Oh, the mural. Yes, I think I know the one you mean."

Kim follows your directions unquestioningly. By now, he trusts that these seemingly meaningless diversions will connect somehow to your work, or perhaps he just doesn't mind taking a break with you.

He parks the Kineema near to the bridge where you know there is a good vantage point. Many people are speechless when they see the next world mural for the first time, and Kim is no different. The immense couple. Those words that are forever burned into the psyche of all Jamrock residents.

TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD – FOR NEW PEOPLE

IT IS TOO LATE FOR US

WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS

"It's bigger than I imagined," he says eventually.

"Most people say that too," you say.

"Huh?" Kim says absently. He is still staring at the mural, hands clasped behind his back, as if he is marvelling at some awe-inspiring piece of art in a museum.

A couple holding hands also stare up at the mural, and then kiss. You feel a sense of déjà vu. You think you've seen this happen before, multiple times. You wonder if you have done this before, you and… someone else. But it doesn't spark any specific memories. Kim is still staring at it, wordlessly. You could take him by surprise, sweep him into your arms and kiss him. It would be a dramatic, cinematic first kiss. Kim might be caught up in the moment and fall for you. Or it could be a dramatic disaster and he might never trust you again.

"Why do you suppose they do that?"

Kim snaps out of the spell the mural has over him. "Hmm?"

"Kiss under the mural. What are they trying to prove? That true love is possible for them, that it's not only possible in the next world for new people?"

Kim shrugs. "Maybe?"

You shrug too. Yeah. Let's prove it Kim, you and me. No, you don't have the guts to say that. "Maybe," you say. "Maybe they think that's the way to wreck havoc on the middle class."

You both linger there for a while. It's the power of the mural. It's polarising, people seem to either love it or hate it, and the reasons they give are varied and interesting. But love it or hate it, it is hard not to be mesmerised by it.

"I had a true love once," you say. "And now that's over. She's never coming back. Do you think that's it, I'm going to alone forever? Or do you think you can have a second chance? Another true love? Or are all other loves just false, doomed to fail?"

Kim just looks at you for a moment. "I don't know, Harry," he says quietly.

"Was that love false? It seemed real, but what if it wasn't?"

Kim doesn't comment.

"Do you believe in true love?"

"Hmm," he says, then he raises his eyebrows. "You mean for me?"

"Yeah."

"Well. I think in a way I agree with the mural. Perhaps true love is not for me."

"Really? Why would you think that?"

"I used to think, maybe. But I am forty three years old. At some point you have to give up hope."

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. "I guess I have no hope then at forty four. Might as well get myself measured up for a sad single man's bargain basement coffin."

"No no. I apologise. I did not mean it like that."

You watch Kim. He brushes dust from his shoulder, and adjusts his glasses. You can tell that this is not some offhand comment he made, it is a deep seated belief about himself. And he's bummed out that you made him think about it.

You turn away from both him and the mural. Maybe love isn't possible for you. That sounds plausible. But you don't want to believe the same for Kim. Kim is incredible, and you wonder why he doesn't have dozens of admirers. Maybe he does, back home. Then why is he still alone? You wonder if you could be happy for Kim if he was in a loving relationship with someone else. No, that's a terribly selfish thought. Of course you would. You'd force yourself to be. Even if it tore you up inside. Kim's happiness is more important than your pathetic clinginess. But that's not how things are right now. Maybe none of his admirers appeal to him. You would gladly love him, if he'd allow you to. He doesn't need to be sad and alone. And neither do you.

A sudden boldness strikes you and you wrap your arms around him, hugging him from behind. You feel Kim's muscles tense as you touch him. "Detective!" he exclaims.

Your heart is pounding and you're so afraid that Kim is going to reprimand you. But it feels so nice. It feels so right, holding Kim in your arms like this. You resist the urge to bury your face in his shoulder – wiggling your nose and mouth under the collar of his jacket to press against his warm, soft skin – and simply rest your head against his.

"I thought you... looked like you could use a hug," you say, failing at your attempt to not sound breathless.

"Oh. Um. Thank you." He puts his hand on your elbow, and squeezes it.

"I… really needed one too."

You tighten your arms around him and he takes in a breath that is almost a gasp. You can't tell if you're squeezing him too tightly or if he's overcome with emotion like you are. Why is it that your ability to read people has to fail at the worst moments?

The couple kissing in front of the mural are finally finished, perhaps they think they have stuck it to the middle class enough for one day. They are walking in your direction. The woman smiles at the two of you in a way that tells you she thinks you are here for the same reason she and her boyfriend are. Eventually, Kim withdraws his hand from your arm, and you let go of him because you feel like you have to.

"You ever been in love, Kim?"

Kim's brow creases and he is silent for a long moment. "Maybe." The period at the end of that sentence indicates the matter is closed. You decide it would be improper to pry. Therefore you can't say the witty thing you want to say next. Right now? With me? But of course you would never dare to anyway.

You think of how he laughed when you said that you missed him. He stayed with you once and probably won't do again. That thought has been in the back of your mind since he went back home, and now that the work week is drawing to a close it is bothering you more than ever. You could just ask him, you suppose. But he hasn't brought the matter up himself, and that tells you everything. You decide not to say anything, not to risk ruining the moment. You have already ruined it for yourself with your thoughts.