Like a Moth to a Flame

"I'm not going to get fucking arrested, so yes, of course I'd kill her. Getting arrested would destroy my reputation. I'm certain I'd get off from charges, but the arrest itself would ruin me. Don't you get that? Seriously, you're incredibly naive and it's really grating on me," the man admitted, doing his best to push the other away without being too hard - after pushing Sandra and seeing how seriously injured she had become, he was particularly wary of his own strength.

"...Maybe I wouldn't kill Sandra, I guess I couldn't do that," he sighed, trying to let his anger ebb away. "Honestly, can you just... in the nicest way possible, can you fuck off? I don't really like looking at you. You can't go harbouring secrets and knowing I'll end up getting arrested, and expect me to be okay with it, can you?"
 
Clenching his fists, he had to take a proper breath to keep himself from his own anger. Despite this, his reddened cheeks and his white knuckles were great indicators that he was, in fact, incredibly pissed. Instead of doing what he felt was right, which was punching the other in the face, he pressed his fists into his eyes instead.

"You're so selfish, you know that? I don't want you to get arrested, obviously. I want to be able to go back home, I can go to my job, and we can spend time together. You need to face the consequences of your actions, Alex! I-I mean, for fuck's sake, do you honestly think the universe is just going to let you go and kill people while you arrogantly act as if everything is going to be fine?"
 
"I'm not facing the consequence of anything, and you aren't going anywhere until I trust you not to go running to your friends at the police station. I don't think it's wrong of me to want to avoid ruining my life-- you don't understand why I've killed people, so of course I'm not wasting my breath explaining that to you AGAIN. Did that punch I gave you knock a few brain cells, because my gosh you've become incredibly dim," he insulted casually, tilting his head a little to observe the other's anger. He'd never held his opinions back on how attractive he found Timothy to be when he was mad, and while he didn't want him to be that angry at him, it was hard to refute just how cute he currently found the boy.

"Can't you just see that I'm just trying to hold this together? I want my best friend back and I want to be able to live normally. I'm not naive, I know Sandra won't forgive me, but I'm hoping she'll realise that she can at least... keep quiet. I'll pay her millions, I'll do whatever I need to. I'm not fucking happy about the prospect of staying here for weeks, it's not my scene."
 
"You probably should have thought about that sooner, huh? I mean, y-you didn't even need to bring us out here to begin with! Yeah, it's one thing with me, but Sandra got hit accidentally. You literally could have called the cops, and whisk me away or whatever. It's the fact that you got her involved, when she had nothing to do with it, is what really fucking pisses me off! If she leaves and calls the cops, it's because of your stupidity, you realize that, right?!" He snapped back, his fists now turning to hands that nervously ran through his hair in clear distress. It only heightened when he glanced out the window himself.

"I'm fucking - I want this all to end up well, but the fact that you're acting as if everything is just peachy-keen is sickening."
 
"So what are you trying to tell me, that I'm an idiot? My reasons for doing things are never going to be understood by you, so I'm not going to bother explaining. All I'll say is that if I'd left Sandra, she'd have gained consciousness, called the cops and I'd be on the run without any chance of regaining normality. This way, I have the slim chance of Sandra forgiving me," he tiredly explained, even if that was the one thing he said he wasn't going to do, and the fact he contradicted himself was at least indicative of just how fucking exhausted he was of having to defend himself. It was one reason why he didn't want to go to court - he'd just end up getting himself into more trouble by telling a few judges to 'fuck off' when the boredom and the exasperation kicked in.

"...I've told you how hot you are when you're mad, haven't I? I'd love to piss you off every single day if it got you like this, but that's not entirely healthy in a relationship. Then again, dating a serial killer isn't too healthy, but hey, that's your problem," he lightly grinned, offering a slight wink in the hopes it would get the other to at least calm down a little. "I'll let Sandra go when she's forgiven me, or at least promises not to say a word. I'm hoping she'll come around soon. It's why I wanted her and Randolph to get along. He understands me and how I think, he could theoretically help us out by working on convincing Sandra. Besides, he's fucking gorgeous, and Sandra's always whining about her boring love life. I thought it would kill two birds with one stone."
 
"I don't know how you're going to do that exactly, huh?! Do you honestly think she'll just be totally okay with this all in two weeks?! I don't think I'll be okay in two weeks! I think that you can get help, though. You're not going to convince Sandra to just open her arms and accept you back. She's not as fucking mental as I am, and I highly doubt she's going to try and make this work, like I am." He reminded, still clearly fuming, even if the flirting did make his face go from flustered red, to that of bashful pink. With a heavy groan, he grabbed the bottle of vodka from the side and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. "This is all fucking madness."
 
Rather than protest and try and calm the other down again, the designer decided that it would be best to just let him calm down by himself, even if he doubted the vodka would help that. Instead, he audibly flopped down onto the bed and tugged his shoes off, the thud of them hitting the ground being pretty loud, which highlighted just how hard he had thrown them. The whole situation was stressing him out as much as it was Timothy, even if he tried to smile through it all and act like it was just some mild inconvenience.

Within twenty minutes, Alexander had fallen asleep, which, given how easily he tended to whenever he was somewhere comfortable, really wasn't a surprise. The heavy thud and sudden smash that came twenty minutes after he drifted off was a surprise, though, given how the loud smash came after minutes of dead silence. Eventually, the bathroom door Timothy was sat behind was knocked on, pretty rapidly and quickly, which definitely matched its perpetrator's demeanour at the moment.

"T-Tim? Timmy? Open up-- are you in there? S-Seriously, can you-- we need to go, alright? I'm not leaving without you, a-and I have the car keys, and... and we can... we're pretty much free to go now, b-but they'll wake up soon and... and we have to go," babbled Sandra, casting nervous glances at Alexander who, thanks to the heavy knock to the head from a vase, was knocked out. Presumably, Randolph had suffered the same. Given Sandra was far from a violent person who really wasn't that strong, it was pretty impressive how she'd managed to knock out two burly men, and if the situation wasn't so nerve-wrecking, she would definitely take some pride from it all.
 
At that point, the entire bottle of vodka was gone, and he laid curled up in the bathtub, having vomited onto the floor and fallen asleep not long after. He only really rustled awake once hearing Sandra's pleas, since he had grown used to the silence. Sluggishly pulling himself out of the bath, he practically crawled to the door, peaking an eye open just a tad after fumbling wth the lock.

It took him a second to realize the situation, his groggy eyes landing on Alexander's passed out body and Sandra's sweaty appearance. Stumbling to get to his feet, he immediately went from drunken sadness to anxiety. As he shimmied out of the door, his face flustered in horror.

"Wh- Are you okay? Fucking hell, I-I... What happened?! Did you kill him?" He whispered quickly, while shooting his eyes to Alexander once again. "Holy shit, I-I... I need to get my things, I can't just leave! I think I'm going to get sick," he babbled on, before forcing his way through the door and holding back every urge to check up on his boyfriend.

"We're really doing this? God - he's going to go to jail, I-I... he'll kill us when he gets out, you realize that, right?" He continued, but still moved to tug on his shoes as quietly as possible, his eyes wide.
 
"Pull yourself together, okay? O-Okay, just... just grab your things and put them in the car and we can go-- the man's a serial killer, he's going to get life without parole, just... just 'cos he has money doesn't mean he can buy his way out of this, right? We have injuries to prove he's got a temper, and the police already suspected him! H-Hell, you went undercover - we have plenty of evidence to put him away. I'm not... I don't know anything about police stuff, but I fucking hope there's enough to put him away for life," she babbled, frantically fiddling with the pink bracelets on her wrist as a coping mechanism.

Her Hello Kitty inspired outfit was speckled with the blood of both Randolph and Alexander, which she cringed at when catching a look of herself in the mirror, but she didn't regret hitting them. This was their one shot of getting out and returning to the city, after all.

Physically pulling her friend from the room, she nervously smiled over at him, hoping that if she looked a little calmer, he would relax himself. "Just-- forget about your clothes, we have to go, alright? I'll drive us, so... so let's just hurry and get out of here before they wake up."
 
"He... I mean, he confessed, but I don't have a recording of it. He won't get in for murder, p-probably just kidnapping and domestic abuse, if anything. That won't be for life." Timothy spoke slowly, the realization hitting him even in his drunken state. "That'll be, like, 20 years tops. What will happen to the company, Sandra? Y-You'll lose your job. We're fucked."

Stumbling along, he stared down at his feet in realization. Not only was he going to ruin his relationship with his boyfriend, but it wasn't like they weren't going to be safe forever. There was no way Alex would love him enough to completely overlook the fact that he ruined his life. This caused his eyes to well with tears.
 
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"...That's still 20 years, Tim. We could find somewhere to live where he won't find us. I have a few thousand in savings, my Dad can probably lend us some cash-- I'm happy to move out with you. I know we've only known each other a few months, but you are my best friend and... and you know, I'd rather us be together than just be on my own. It'll be fine, we'll work it out," she promised, having already decided that she was willing to be thrust into uncertainty, if it meant seeing Alexander behind bars. It may not be for life, but he was almost guaranteed to serve time, and that time would be enough for her to leave town, move somewhere new and live out her life happily. Granted, she would always be looking over her shoulder... but that was better than the alternative, in her eyes.

Nervously scurrying past the unconscious body of Randolph, she only really let herself relax a moment once safely inside Alexander's flashy car, taking a moment to just set her hands on the wheel and take in some very deep breaths. "...We... We can go out and stay with my brother in Texas, how about that? O-Or... Or well, you totally don't have to, that's just... I'm panicking. You don't even have to see me again, you could get a car and drive off and... and that'd be fine..."
 
"I'm scared," Tim admitted suddenly once sitting in the car, his face covered in tears. "I don't want anything bad to happen to anyone, Sandra. I-I... God, why the fuck do I always fall for weirdos?! I-I think I'm going to vomit," he moaned loudly, though simply buried his head between his knees to steady himself. It was a trick he had learned back in training, and it seemed appropriate now.

"I'm a terrible person. I-I'm going to Hell. I-I... I think I should go and check in to, like, the hospital, get a check-up. This'll definitely fuck me up."
 
"Relax, s-seriously, we're... we're just going to drive back, tell the police and give statements, then... then go back to my apartment. We'll sleep this whole thing off and... and I guess we'll have to stick around to give evidence in court and-- look, when all this is over, we'll go to Texas, right? We'll stay with my brother and we'll be safe and... and you can join the police there, I'm sure I can find a neat company to work for too," she babbled, trying to make it all seem that simple by saying it aloud.

There was nothing to stop it going that simply, really. Alexander, after all, was already a suspect, so their statements could consolidate what police detectives were already wary of. The only thing Sandra wisely chose to leave out was the emotional impact this was going to have on them both. Therapy would be a good way of dealing with it all, but she didn't want to even bring that up yet.

"Hey, I've never even been out of New York, it'll be like an adventure when we do go. My brother's a bit of an ass, but he's nice enough-- and he's, like, pretty tough, so I'd feel a hell of a lot safer having him around, y'know?"
 
"Do you honestly think I'll be on the force? I mean, fuck! I-I was dating a serial killer. I still love that serial killer! Plus all of our clothes are back there, what are we supposed to do? My dad is an hour away from here, a-and. I don't have anything else." He blurted, before glancing over to Sandra.

"Just go, for fuck's sake! If we don't go, I'll... just go back in there. I don't want Alex to get hurt, Sandra, b-but this is the better thing to do."
 
"Then you don't say you're fucking in love with him! You say that your relationship with him was purely a result of the job you were assigned to do. You got closer to him to uncover anything suspicious, alright? H-Holy shit, it's... I'm not expecting you to go blurting out the truth of how intimately you were involved, you'll ruin your life," she grimaced, rolling her eyes to herself, though she knew that, right now, she was probably saying some crazy things. It was all due to the panic and the uncertainty, but none of it stopped her starting the car and driving like a madwoman away from the country home.

"...You don't tell them you loved him, it's simple. Unless you want to lose your job and everything you've worked for, we... we don't say you loved him. He'll deny that and say it was genuine, but it's your word against his, and... and you're a cop. They'll believe you."
 
Wiping uncontrollable tears away, Timothy set his eyes in the window. To be able to keep himself from sobbing, he wrapped his arms around himself to at least try and comfort himself. It would be embarrassing to ask for a hug from Sandra, since he was a grown-ass man. Shooting back to look behind, he purses his lips cautiously As he noticed the inventor begin to get to his feet.

"H-Hurry up!" He finally snapped, while clutching the seatbelt right. "J-Just fucking go!"
 
"I am fucking going, I-I'm not going to start speeding and crashing. I'm going as fast as I-I'm willing to go, alright? They... They're in no position to start driving after us, so... so trust me, we're alright," she calmly began, managing and braving to send a smile across at her best friend the moment she hit the smooth road surface, rather than the pebbled paths that had slowed her down and only increased her nervousness.

The next few hours were, perhaps expectedly, a blur. After making it back into the city and confronting Timothy's police department, the two were separately questions and gave their statements which were, surprisingly, believed. The detectives had suspected Alexander for a few weeks now, after finding DNA evidence at a scene of a crime, and when added with the fact all the victims were known to the designer, it really wasn't hard to believe he'd done it. All Sandra and Timothy's statements did was consolidate what they'd suspected all along. Timothy may have been teased relentlessly amongst the other detectives for his sexuality (though they would claim it was simply manly banter), but he was still a detective, and for the hours he was questioned, the men that had teased him did rally around him supportively. They had sent him into that situation and most of them did feel guilty for it.

It was 8 in the morning before Sandra arrived back at Timothy's apartment, not feeling comfortable or safe enough to go back to her own, alone-- and she decided Timothy's place was best, simply because he had his rats to feed, and she had no pets to care for. While she was visibly exhausted, she also feared going to sleep. Even though news had broken around an hour before of Alexander's arrest (he had remained unconscious all those hours, and so had no chance of evading capture), Sandra still felt uncomfortable sleeping, fearing that something bad would happen if she even napped for a few minutes.

"...Do you want something to eat? I... I can whip up some scrambled eggs," she suggested to her friend, removing her now broken and ruined designer heels. "Maybe some toast. We should eat, it's been a long night-- or, failing that, we should have a cup of tea or coffee at least. With lashings of cream and sugar."
 
The night had been daunting for Timothy. During the interogation, he only grew embarrassed by the constant apologies and playful chuckles. They seemed beyond false, in his eyes, especially after dealing with years of being teased. To suddenly be considered a hero felt foreign to him. Not to mention, he was pretty much unable to quit the force now that Alexander was arrested, and he was seen as some hero. He kept a good facade of happiness amongst the team, but the minute he stepped out of the station, he immediately wandered to the 24 hour liquor store to buy himself a nice bottle of vodka.

Once home, it felt... off. He had abandoned the man he saw himself going as far as marrying, which was frustration. At the same time, he knew that he was doing what was right. Being stuck in that back and forth of morality, he wanted nothing more than to drink until he was able to properly sleep, since he knew he couldn't without it. So, after a night of sobbing and drinking, it wasn't until around 4 in the morning that he managed to fall asleep. Once woken up by Sandra, he rubbed his face bitterly and glanced over at the woman from his couch.

"... Hey,"
 
"I mean... We need to get our act together, right? He's going to get charged and put on trial, and... and we can move on with our lives. That'll start right now. I'll make a good pot of coffee and rustle up some eggs," she decided, talking just for the sake of talking. The other option -silence- really wasn't favourable. She didn't want it to be quiet, because it made her feel unsafe and cautious, which was why she hurried to plug in the radio and higher the volume up on the cheesy pop song that played out.

"After the trial, we can... it'll be fine. You have your job, I can find another one. Maybe... maybe I could move in with you? I-It's just, I don't think I want to be alone, not for a while-- and we are friends. I-I'd at least appreciate staying here until the trial, at least. When he's been charged and put away, I'll feel a lot safer."
 
"All of those people are going to lose their jobs, Sandra..." Timothy realized slowly, which just added another check to the list of the cons of the situation. "All of those interns, a-and all of the people who need to feed their families... I ruined that, Sandra. What about Alex's parents? They were so sweet, I could never face them again. They'd be looking at the man that sent their son to jail."

Sitting up from his face-down position, Timothy reluctantly walked towards the small kitchenette before taking a seat at the small, two-person kitchen table. Staring at it for just a bit too long, he quickly looked away and stared down at his hand. The memories of cooking breakfast with Alex were too strong, and the fact that he had to live in the apartment they shared so many fun times was daunting.

"The team wants me to go get a psych evaluation. I think it's a bit overdone, but I think they're worried for me. It's silly, since they've never cared about me this much. They're probably not even going to have my picture in the news, the captain will take all of the credit. It's how it always is."
 
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