Archive of Our Own ^beta

Yasper’s trial is a complete shitshow.

“I can’t believe this,” Danner is understandably upset. “I put my heart and soul into getting this case together, and this flippy-dippy loverboy manages to screw everything up.”

“Technically, we kind of did,” Culp blurted out. She glared at him.

He was not her booski-wooski right now.

“Okay, okay,” she started pacing back and forth. “We can fix this, right?”

“We’re the dream team, you and me,” Culp offered, his heart not really in it. “Let’s go.”

“Officer Danner, can you tell the court whether you read the suspect his Miranda rights before obtaining his confession?”

Danner wants to put her head straight through the wall.

“I did not, sir,” she said, truthfully.

“And did you properly secure the crime scene, whether it was the rooms in the house, or the outside perimeter of the victim’s property?” the lawyer continued, fighting off the beginnings of a highly unprofessional smirk.

“We tried our best,” Danner admitted. “It was a very high-profile investigation.”

“So, this lack of foresight is how Jennifer 2 left the crime scene to have her child unannounced...” the attorney walked across the floor. “While my client, who allegedly confessed in front of all of his high school classmates and members of law enforcement, cannot actually be proven to have done so. Your honor, I think that the entire confession should be thrown out, as well as all the witness testimonies surrounding the event, given that the suspect was not informed of his rights prior to his confession.”

The crowd exploded into noise, so much so that the judge slammed his gavel down.

“Order,” the judge cleared his throat, displeased with the theatrical nature of everything thus far. “Can the prosecution and the defense please approach the bench?”

“Why are you only bringing this up now?” Danner thrust her finger into the air. “You had the entire pre-trial period to get that dismissed.”

“My client has a flair for the dramatic,” Yasper’s lawyer shrugged.

“We’re going to need to break for a brief recess so we can continue talking about this,” the judge said, keeping his voice authoritative but slightly quiet so as to not arouse suspicion from the jury. “ Immediately.”

“Your Honor, I just want to call Detective Culp up to the stand,” the lawyer asked, and Danner pictured herself squeezing his head with her fingers while he spoke. “It’s sort of related.”

“Objection!” Danner yelled, forgetting that she was not an attorney herself, for a moment.

“Can the witnesses for the prosecution please leave?” the judge ordered. “Now.”

“Sorry,” Danner backed away, giving Culp the signal to come over again.

“If they throw out the confession, all we have is the phone and the DNA from Xavier’s body,” Culp whispered, quite angrily, to Danner. “We can show what he did on the phone, but it’s not exactly the open-and-shut case we expected with the full confession.”

“How did we lose a bitch?” Danner smacked her forehead. “Jennifer #2 should never have been able to leave the scene. Everyone needed to be interviewed one-by-one and actually sequestered from each other with separate statements. Now, everybody can just say anything, and if a single person mentions the confession after this, it would end in a goddamn mistrial.”

“It could be worse,” Culp shrugged, sheepishly, almost like he knew something else.

“I literally do not know anyway it could be worse,” Danner said in response, flatly. Over in the corner, Yasper waved to them, smiling. Sweating somewhat, the two coworkers in justice parted, hoping the judge’s decision would not ruin their many hours spent investigating said murderer somehow giving them a joyous acknowledgement while he was on trial beside them.

“Detective Culp, please come to the stand,” the lawyer sounded, calling his second witness for the day. Culp shifted uncomfortably, promising in his head to limit the dramatics.

“Detective Culp, is it true you stole from the crime scene, and the victim in this case, then marked it as evidence for you to take home?” he asked.

“Oh, fuck my life,” Danner slapped her forehead. It was all over.

At the end of everything, Yasper received 15 years and a tall bill of community service. They could prove it was murder, but the entire confession was tossed, meaning that the first-degree implications failed to stick around. Everyone from Hillmount High took their turns telling the court their sides of the story, albeit much quicker than how they originally told Danner months ago, but the one that hurt the most was when Aniq, looking defeated, spoke up.

It broke the informal silence Yasper had been living in with him, separated by dead air in a courtroom filled to the brim with stumbled upon, broken dreams and a small group of Yasper fangirls (he kept telling them to leave, but he did not really want them to, of course.)

“Um, Yasper was my best friend,” Aniq began. “Most people did not like Xavier, in all honesty, because what you see is what you get. Always trying to be the coolest person in the room, and then if he achieved that, he would make it your problem. Other people have their own motives for why they would want to see him go off the side of a cliff, but...”

“Do you think Yasper could have done this?” the lawyer inquired.

“I know he did,” Aniq glanced down. “I wish every day that he didn’t.”

So, when those words did not happen to be final, it tickled Yasper, a little.

“Glad this is so funny to you,” Aniq sighed from behind the non-contact glass.

“It's not,” Yasper tried to match his energy, deflating all the same. "Oh, the part where you said you wanted me to apologize to Xavier? Now that's funny.”

Aniq had got his bearings together, coming down to the prison he swore he would never visit with a newfound stoic disposition. But this actually required something Yasper could be useful for, his old friend momentarily without the bars covering his pretty, lying face—this interaction could possibly become a mutually beneficial scenario for both of them, even if the nature of it was, for lack of a better term, dismal.

There was a murder. Oh no, another one, sorry.

Aniq, as a recently established private investigator, just had to prove it.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes at Yasper’s words, but deep down, the feeling stung. “I guess it wouldn’t be funny if it was me asking for an apology?” He left the words hanging there, knowing the choices could possibly incite a human reaction in the living charade opposite him.

Yasper's breath hitched. It was now or never, but he almost couldn't remember how close sadness and anger were to each other until his former best friend was sitting right in front of him, his emotions only a few shades away from complementing the other on a color wheel. He forgot what it was like to feel something so volatile, so...not the monochrome boredom of prison with only the green jubilance of his own personality to keep him company.

“I literally can't say sorry enough,” Yasper turned sincere in a blinding, white hot flash of light, shedding the uncaring persona for a moment of genuineness that only Aniq could really see. “You know, I've written an apology letter 90 times. If I ask for more markers from the commissary, they're going to put me on an FBI watchlist.”

“Okay,” Aniq appeared unimpressed.

“It feels like I’m never getting out of here. Every day, Aniq, I see your fucking face staring back at me, but I don't have a mirror. It's just conveniently etched into my brain. I can’t sleep, I can’t ‘make new friends.’ The person I loved the most hates me. The person I would do anything for? He despises me because of something that like, if Zoe or Chelsea did, he would probably forgive them, right? So actually, where's my apology? Where's your apology for the moment you thought it was too late for us, and then you probably took my rental car and made out with Zoe in an In-N-Out parking lot? Where's my happy ending, for once? Why don't I ever get the person, or the win—the fucking great party? Doesn't anybody fucking care?” he felt like the toothpick, snapped in half. “Do you even care? Because if you're going to act all holier-than-thou, save it. We both know that sometimes, you don't deserve to be on the wrong side of the law,” Yasper muttered.

“That is uncalled for,” Aniq cautioned. “Zoe and I—god, you're so selfish. you think everything is about you, and your image, and your little mind movie where Yasper is the only right person over and over again. Murder is a crime, whether you like it or not. I am literally not even here for this. I don't want to talk to you, Yasper, I have to. So, can you please let me ask you this one thing?”

Yasper leaned back, trying to disguise his interest among the overwhelming bitterness. “First, answer me—if I had come to the afterparty wanting what you wanted to have with Zoe, but with you, would you have laughed right in my face?”

Aniq steeled.

“Yasper, I'm straight,” he bit his lip. “You just...you could've just told me.”

“Oh, and get this stunning of a reaction? Remind me not to nominate you for an Oscar,” Yasper complained. “Ask your question. I'm sure Zoe is eagerly awaiting a text from you saying that you have ‘finally vanquished the big bad wolf and that he can't hurt you anymore, sweetie,’ or whatever.”

“That's not how I think about you,” Aniq mumbled. “Why are you talking about yourself like you're straight out of one of Maggie's children’s books?”

Yasper shrugged. “You either die a hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Went for both Xavier and me, honestly. There's only a fine line between me," he walked his fingers across the table, calculating. "And a childhood fantasy.”

“Let me ask my thing,” Aniq urged, feeling like a monologue was incoming.

“Shoot,” Yasper waved him off, then rescinded, pulling back. “Imagine if I would have shot Xavier. Wow, the night would have gone by much faster, I assure you. But I consider those times with you the last moments I will probably ever be truly happy, even if I was constantly on my toes to make sure the both of us got out of there. I just cared too much about you, and not enough about myself,” Yasper nodded. “Anyway, what's your question?”

How was this person my best friend, Aniq thought to himself, incredulously.

“I’m...working a case,” he started, unsure.

“With Danner? She loves me,” Yasper tried his best to put his chin on his hands with the whole cuff situation. “Pretty sure Culp has never forgiven me for telling him to skip that BTS song on the way to the police station, though.”

“No,” Aniq didn’t know why it was so hard to talk, all of a sudden. “Doing my own thing. Puzzles that solve lives, yada yada, but mostly, I was tired of my puzzles being recognized as all gimmicks and not the well-thought-out, intricate mysteries they are.”

“Aniq!” Yasper clapped while restrained. “My man! That’s called achieving your dreams. Some of us had to kill a guy to get to that point.”

Aniq didn’t laugh. Yasper coughed.

“Sorry,” he froze. “Okay, so...you need to see into the mind of a criminal? A little Hannibal Lecter, wheel out the serial killer exercise? I can do that. My pay starts at $200 an hour. Or, for the you-were-once-my-best-friend discount, $175,” he shot the other some finger guns. “You’re the only person who could take that deal, buddy. You and Xavier. Rest in peace.”

“Can you stop that?” Aniq nearly jumped out of his own skin in frustration. “Focus.”

“You know I’m bad at that,” Yasper sighed. “Okay. Give me the run-down.”

“Jennifer 1 and 2,” Aniq braced for impact. “Zoe, um, remembers a third one.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Yasper gaped. “This is your first case?”

“It’s not my first case!” Aniq insisted. “She left before we started high school, so maybe you never saw her, but Chelsea kind of unofficially stole her spot.”

“There is no way that you are telling me, Yasper Lennov, the yazzmatazz69, that a girl named Jennifer 3 existed and absolutely no one has ever mentioned her before,” he waited for a response, or the other shoe, to drop.

“It’s true,” Aniq confirmed reluctantly.

Yasper lost it.

“Okay, where are the hidden cameras? You got me. I am punked. Tell Danner she won.”

“This is serious, Yas, I promise,” Aniq pleaded, the nickname for the other just casually dropped into their conversation as if Yasper would not cling to it like he was on the edge of a cliff for the rest of his natural life. “It’s bothering Zoe. She remembers a missing person poster or a milk carton that everyone glossed over. Something Danner reminded her of in her mind movie.”

“So, you don’t know if Jennifer 3 is a real person, or?” Yasper prodded.

“I know she’s real,” Aniq said. “I remember a few details. I just think everyone assumed she switched schools. But Chelsea remembers her...”

“Oh,” Yasper got the memo. “Girlfriends.”

“No,” Aniq corrected. “Pretty sure that’s not the case. I’m perceptive like that.”

“Yeah, sexualities are not your specialty,” Yasper dismissed. “What’s the story?”

“She’s not on any social media. Zoe tried to drop by her parents’ place back then, and it was boarded up. There’s no missing persons reports with her name. It’s like she disappeared.”

“Have you talked to the Jennifers?” Yasper was getting excited, now, against his own wishes.

“Not alone, no,” Aniq answered. “Together, they are entirely too casual about her. Keep saying she was so nice, so... normal.”

“Ugh, no thank you,” Yasper pulled a face. “Why do you think there’s something here?”

“Listen,” Aniq’s voice dropped low. “You look into this with me, have another interview with some people, using your...’expertise,’ I could get a much better look into things.”

Realistically, Yasper would have never said no, not in a million years.

“Aniq, this is going to be the best reunion tour ever conceived,” Yasper looked delighted, “Forget ABBA, forget Duran Duran. Are they dead? They might be dead. I don’t know.”

“You are way too pleased about this,” Aniq shook his head, but a subtle fondness was there under the surface, despite his efforts. “I am just letting you know that Danner would probably think this is a bad idea, and you will probably have to be handcuffed the whole time.”

“If Danner hates it, then I’m in,” Yasper winked. “Also, kinky. I am also okay with light choking. Just give me a safe word.”

“I actually hate you,” Aniq said, breathless. “You know this isn’t us being friends, right? This is business, for me. I’m only asking you because the problem is no one else sees this as a crime or a mystery. I think this has something to do with our group of people.”

“Oh yeah, we’re a great bunch of best friends,” Yasper sighed. “Ones that sell you out in a heartbeat, but sure. I don’t know how you can arrange this without talking to my lawyers or the judge,” he raised an eyebrow. “But I will tentatively say yes, anyways.”

“Actually, this is community service,” Aniq retorted. “You need to do something related to your sentence, and also, maybe your lawyers already said yes because they knew you would, which is definitely not professional, but also, it’s you they’re dealing with, so.”

“And Judge Henderson?” Yasper tested, just to see if he’d take the bait.

“He’s next,” Aniq braced himself. “But I’m pretty sure he has a soft spot for me, so it should all work out. I get to build on my hours and get my certifications,” he cracked his knuckles. “And you get to pretend to be normal for a few hours a week. Sound good?”

“Rude,” Yasper feigned annoyance. “Normal people wish they were me, dude.”

The judge signed it off, miraculously.

“You’re lucky I like you, Mr. Adjaye,” he eyed him. “I think both you and I know that the best police procedures were not carried out in your former friend’s case.”

“That’s what made me want to go into private investigating, Your Honor,” Aniq answered. “For Yasper, though...is this really an okay thing to do?”

“It’s unconventional, sure. But given your friend’s disposition, might I say, I can’t imagine another instance of a more fitting community service opportunity. As long as you both understand that this is a very sensitive situation, and you promise to remain on prison grounds, I cannot see why it would not just be a harmless exercise for your professional career,” he finished. “Plus, there are going to be actual corrections officers and police by you at all times.”

“And I won’t break him out of jail,” Aniq pointed, confused at why he even said it.

The judge stared at him.

“That would not be wise,” he remarked.

“Best buds back together,” Yasper chimed, rocking back and forth. “Solving a murder, yeah~ ”

“Not friends,” Aniq corrected. “Last time, you pretended to help me, so can you promise you will really try this time, as I don’t think you would have wiped a middle school girl out of existence back when you weren’t even able to tie your shoes correctly?”

“Ouch,” Yasper strained a little against his handcuffs, repositioning on the chair. “Okay, give me the details.”

“Well, I thought we’d start with the person who remembers her the most,” Aniq scanned the room, clearly expecting someone in particular.

“No way,” Yasper kept forgetting his wrists were bound and almost went for a fist bump. “Zoe is here?”

“She’s in the waiting area,” Aniq was mentally giving up already. “Be cool.”

“Are you guys dating?” Yasper leaned forward. “Is she pregnant again already?”

“Ew, Yasper, shut up!” Aniq had a headache. “We’re just seeing each other right now.”

“No ring?” Yasper asked, studying him up and down.

“No ring,” Aniq felt his soul leave his body. “Relax.”

“Yasper,” Zoe looked at him, all kinds of beautiful, but slightly broken at seeing him handcuffed, the sight still unsettling to her despite the passing of time and the trial of the century. “How...how are you?”

“In prison,” Yasper answered dutifully. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks,” she sat next to Aniq, flashing a small smile. “I don’t think I have ever heard of anyone else doing this.”

“That’s the perk of not being a police officer,” Aniq pointed out. “I am technically just gathering information and doing my job. I don’t have to jump through—or break, any of those bureaucratic hurdles. This is me, talking to someone for information, and he is a...”

“Consultant,” Yasper cut in. “Now, Zoe, what do you remember about Jennifer 3?”

Zoe bit her lip. “Um, okay. She had dark hair and kind eyes. It was nice, because she didn’t make fun of me for drawing or anything since she was always sketching something, too. Clothes, mostly.” she nodded. “She was able to take a really basic top and then transform it. I never got the memo that she felt like she fit in until Chelsea came around, though. The Jennifers made fun of her fashion behind her back, and when she found out, it all fell apart.”

“What do you mean?” Aniq asked, jotting everything down.

“She left school in tears,” Zoe elaborated. “Never saw her again.”

“Working theory,” Yasper shimmied his hands down to tap the table. “The Jennifers killed her and stole all of her clothes. Once you see their kids getting to puberty, they are all going to be wearing those outfits. When you ask where they got them, they’ll go, ‘oh, me? Us?’ Only the best for our sweet little babies. Designer, of course. Louis Vuitton meets trendy thrift shop couture.”

Zoe’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, I don’t think either of them are smart enough to pull that off. What you could do is talk to Brett,” she continued. “Or Chelsea. They have to know something.”

“Yasper has this crazy idea...” Aniq led, unsure how to phrase it. “That Jennifer 3 and Chelsea might have dated.”

“Oh, they probably did,” Zoe agreed. “I don’t know how else I can help. I just know that lately, it’s all I can think about. She just disappeared.”

“I can’t believe I don’t remember her,” Yasper squinted.

“Forgive me for saying this...” Zoe eased into what she wanted to say. “But, Aniq, what do you think Yasper could help with here? I figured you were going to take this on as a missing person’s case, do some social media digging, you know, that kind of thing. I’m not sure if anything here points to murder, yet. I don’t want to accuse anyone—” she cast a glance to the side, lips pouted. “—after everything you’ve been through. No offense, Yasper.”

“I’m taking offense to that,” Yasper’s mood soured, only at his assumption that Zoe lacked confidence in her partner. “Why can’t you just believe him? He believes you.”

“Yas,” Aniq stopped him. “She believes me. I think what she doesn’t understand is how my ex-best friend who’s sitting in prison for murdering another one of our friends, who was a global superstar, can contribute to the investigation. It’s a fair point.”

“He was not our friend,” Yasper hated that. It was a lie, plain and simple. Everyone just tolerated him for the fame or the lofty promise of what he might give them. “Look, Zoe. I know you care, and I just want to help, too, in any way I can.”

“To be honest, I just don’t want Aniq getting hurt again. You, uhm, really broke his heart,” she said, also despising the way the conversation was going.

“I’m sitting right here!” Aniq threw his hands up.

“Sorry,” Yasper bit back the words. He would be making it up to him forever, never returning to their former dynamic or bond with ease. Even if someday a divine power granted him the ability to turn back time, Yasper feared the consequences could be still stitched into his being, lost in the thread of neurons and past mistakes. “Zoe...you’re right. I don’t really have any say or opinion on the matter that could help with finding her. My hands are literally tied.”

“Tied or cuffed?” Zoe attempted a little smile, the faintest hint of smartass in her upset.

“This is why he loves you,” Yasper beamed. No matter the situation, he always thought Zoe was perfect for the other. She could do no wrong in Aniq’s eyes—or Yasper’s, really. If he had to lose, it’s fitting for it to be to someone like her. “Zoe, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I’d like to believe that,” she reached out, grabbing Yasper’s hand. “Promise.”

“Zoe, can I walk you out?” Aniq tapped her, and she pulled back abruptly. “I just have to ask Yasper something.”

Zoe’s face kind of fell at the quick conclusion, the same sadness she had in Xavier’s living room a long time ago. “Sure. Take care of yourself, Yasper.”

“Bye,” Yasper answered, barely audible. She slipped away, Aniq helping her to the exit, where she tossed a hopeful expression back to him. He caught it, savoring the kindness for rainy days, desperate to lap the hint of any human decency. “She’s right,” Yasper continued, as the other sat back down.

“Yasper, look. We’re just starting. I genuinely think that with how creative your mind is, that you can help me fill in the missing pieces here,” Aniq persisted.

“Okay,” Yasper still felt unqualified. “Just keep looking. I’ll be...here.”

“Answer something for me,” the other pressed, more up his sleeve. “Was the trial hard for you? It honestly just felt like you were putting on a show the whole time.”

A little provoked again, Yasper scoffed, but he looked uncomfortable.

“I mean,” he thought for a moment. “O-of course it was.”

“Hm,” Aniq leaned back. “Really.”

“You don’t remember?” Yasper was exasperated. “When you...”

Suddenly, they were back in court. Aniq had finished his testimony, and Yasper broke for the first time. He tried to hold back the feelings, the knotted-up emotions in his stomach, but the jurors were taking notice of his change in disposition. Really, he just felt hopeless. It was his entire mission to make the trial something larger than life, but also, to remind the world that there were always two shots. Anyone could have their moment of fame, even if it seemed out of reach.

Yet, as the trial progressed, the façade faded away. At the end of everything, when it came down to him versus his reflection in the mirror, Yasper was alone because of his own actions. He let personal envy rip those he loved the most from his hands and well, those same palms were not too kind to Xavier, his body sent hurdling over the edge.

Yasper’s lawyers advised that he should not have taken the stand, but he did.

The prosecution acknowledged him.

“Is it true that Detective Danner called you out as a suspect in front of everyone?”

“Yes,” he mumbled. “Though I hardly see why that’s relevant.”

“It is relevant because for you, Yasper, you always need the spotlight. It’s why we are all here, waiting to hear your side, but even though we know the answer, there’s still some confusion about your history with the victim.”

“Objection,” Yasper’s lawyer cut in, “Leading the witness.”

“Sustained,” the judge ruled. “Prosecution, get to the point.”

“Were you two ever romantically involved?” they slid the question in.

Yasper winced. Ouch. Bad memories.

“Back in high school, yeah,” he sucked in a breath, ready to commit. “We were also in a band called Ska-Pe Diem. You might have heard of us.”

The girls in the back of the courtroom cheered.

“Did you think that Xavier got everything that you wanted in life?”

Yasper’s mind went blank, momentarily. That was not the follow up he expected.

He searched for Aniq in the crowd, but couldn't find him.

“No,” Yasper exhaled. “I think that someone deserved to punch him, which I admit I did. But I didn’t push him over the balcony,” his eyes drifted away. “He fell because he realized he couldn’t be me, and well, the pressure was simply too much to handle.”

People whispered among themselves, mostly a chorus of disapproval.

“Your Honor, I’d like to play the next piece of evidence for the court,” the prosecutor introduced the audio file hooked up to the large screen. It was not the ‘how great is this party’ clip from the MLK performance or anything he would have liked the world to ever see.

The song started playing.

“Yasper,” the clip started, clearly with Xavier’s voice. “This is for you, man.”

A sappy, horribly produced piece of pop trash came out of the speakers. The lyrics were awful, terrible, but it was Xavier, 17 and heartbroken, writing a break-up anthem about the two of them. Some of the attendees visibly cringed, but for some reason, Yasper just looked down with a laugh, unable to believe their insinuation.

“That’s not who he was as Xavier,” Yasper shrugged. “That was Eugene.”

“You don’t feel anything hearing that?” the prosecution baited him. “You don’t feel anything knowing that your friend, boyfriend, whatever he was, wrote a song about you, and you pushed him off a balcony to his death?”

Yasper hated this. He hated the leading, the egging on, the clear attempt to make him say something that solidified their claim of his intentions and planning, the lying in wait and forceful jab to the nose.

“The only thing I feel is regret for hurting people who actually mattered,” Yasper said.

While he went to wipe away a single tear, he noticed Aniq had already left the courtroom.

“I didn’t stay for when they put you on the stand...” Aniq’s voice drifted off. “I thought you were going to just—I thought I had seen enough.”

“It’s fine,” Yasper verbally shrank down several sizes. “It’s my fault, anyways.”

Aniq’s eyes widened, surprised. “You...”

“I’m sorry,” Yasper gulped. “For everything. I shouldn’t have lashed out when you first visited me, either.”

The moment hung there, biding its time.

“When you said ‘a friend wouldn’t do this,’” Yasper started again. “You were right. I was a shit friend, putting you in that situation.”

Aniq nodded, coaxing into the way he spoke next.

“I think Xavier had it worse,” the corners of Aniq’s mouth quirked upwards in his attempts to diffuse the cold, chilled climate between them.

“I guess,” Yasper met his smile with a tiny, still unsure, one. “Just know that I would never hurt you Aniq, not in a million years. I also didn’t want to implicate you, to bring you back to the worst moment of your life...” he was dead serious. “Never. I would never do that.”

Aniq understood. He may not have back then, as Culp handcuffed Yasper and pushed him to the ground, pinning him to the floor because he killed a man. Yasper, his best friend, murdered someone and tried to unsuccessfully cover it up. It was all Aniq could think about. Betrayal, pain, years of friendship down the drain because of his green-tinged, violent pursuit of fame.

Because Aniq almost went down instead of him. If Danner arrested Aniq, would Yasper had even said anything? After midnight, those are the thoughts that circulated in his head, untamed and running wild even as Zoe slept soundly next to him.

“If they tried to pin it on you, Aniq,” Yasper seemed to effortlessly read his mind. “I would have confessed right there, I swear on my life.”

“You kind of did already,” Aniq offered with a shrug, appreciating the sentiment nonetheless. “Hey, if you get to be funny at inopportune times, I get to, too.”

Yasper appreciated it, even though he still felt guilty.

“But in a court of law, my man, that never happened,” he flashed the semblance of a genuine grin before his face returned to its former gravitas. “Is, Zoe, uhm...okay with all this?”

“I don’t know,” Aniq admitted. “But I know she just wishes you weren’t here.”

“It’s not exactly desirable,” Yasper relented. “The food sucks.”

“Maybe if you stay on your best behavior, you’ll get a day of work release,” Aniq raised a single eyebrow. “Okay, I’m going to go. I’ll come back when I have more. I think the Jennifers are kind of a dead end until we have more to confront them with.”

“Alright,” Yasper felt a little more sane. “Bye for now, I guess.”

It felt nice to know it was not the end—at least, not yet.

The next time Aniq comes around (Yasper refuses to let himself count), he’s tense.

“Brett doesn’t want to fill out the paperwork to be on the visitor list,” Aniq rubbed his temples. “I think he’s still upset over the whole ‘you almost framing him’ thing.”

“Then you can just talk to him yourself,” Yasper exhaled. “What about Chelsea?”

“She said she would come if you apologize,” Aniq replied. “For everything.”

“Fine,” he relaxes. “I’ll do it. I just want to help you.”

“I know, and I’m thankful for that,” Aniq writes something down in his notes that Yasper can’t quite see. “But you need to apologize to her, genuinely, or else we are never going to get any answers.”

I can do this, Yasper thinks to himself. I can keep apologizing, one by one, if I need to. It’s a horrible reality, but one he has to accept. He figures that anything is better than if the ghost of Xavier came back to face him like in ‘A Christmas Carol,’ angry and ready to yell at him with autotuned screams of the damned. Tentatively, he lets Aniq set things up, sinking into himself for the inevitable blunders he will commit, and the unfortunate truths he will have to face.

At least no one could ever say his prison experience was boring.

“I wanna do this quickly,” Chelsea sets down her bag, already impatient. “What do you have to say for yourself, Yasper?”

“Wow, really going for it,” Yasper gulps at the effortlessness of her interrogation skills. “Chelsea, hey...I wanted Brett to take the fall, you realize that, right?”

“Don’t start like that,” Aniq resisted the urge to wring his hands again. “Please.”

“Yeah, real mature,” Chelsea leaned back. “Just be honest. You didn’t care who went down. I don’t think you even would have cared if it was Aniq. You’re just so sad and ready to hurt anyone who’s ever hurt you.”

“That’s not fair,” Yasper grimaced. “Y-you were going to leak nude photos of Xavier.”

“But I didn’t,” Chelsea launched an accusatory finger in the air. “Look, I will admit I’m not perfect. None of us are. We could have all done it, but since you pushed a man over a balcony and then tried to frame multiple people you went to high school with, I would say that is infinitely worse. Plus, no one liked him. That is not up for debate. It’s just, if I did it, I don’t think I would have framed any of you,” she said with a degree of finality. “Sometimes, you have to take responsibility for your own actions.”

It wasn’t the best move or his finest hour, either, what Yasper did next.

“Sure, like sleeping with your ex-best friend’s husband and poisoning Aniq?” Yasper suggested, feeling petty as ever. “I’m glad you got to have your redemption arc, Chelsea. Some of us aren’t so lucky. Some of us fuck up one time and then go to prison for years. Also, you know what? I am taking responsibility. I just don’t know why everyone has to pretend that I’m this irredeemable monster. I have feelings, too.”

“Wow,” Aniq’s eyes were huge. “Yasper, take it down a notch.”

Yasper took a mental note of how he dropped the ‘Yas’ there.

“I don’t have to listen to any of this,” Chelsea grabbed her things in disbelief. “I’m here as a favor for Aniq, who I can see any time, because he’s my friend. I thought we were cool, Yasper.”

“We were,” Yasper insisted. “I...I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being such an asshole.”

“Years of practice, maybe?” Chelsea glared, icy and cold. “That’s the thing—you’re not. That’s why it’s so frustrating. I don’t know how you didn’t think anything through. They tried to say you planned things, the video, the recording studio...how did you not think that it would hurt any of us who the police ended up targeting?” she shook her head. “It’s like you completely gave up. So close to stardom, to going free and carrying out your little 15 minutes of fame, but you failed to think of the consequences.”

“Yeah,” Yasper bit his tongue. “...Now I have to live with them.”

“Chelsea, it almost sounds like you wanted for him to get away with murder,” Aniq observed, putting an emotional distance between himself and the question, for the sake of his new career path.

Chelsea laughed. “Honestly? I couldn’t care less. I got what I needed from Xavier. It’s still terrible, horrible, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the ‘potentially framing me for it’ aspect that I care about,” she said. “Look, Yasper. I know you wanted to be a star. But I always kind of thought you were, in your own way. I wish it didn’t have to end like this.”

“Me too,” Yasper felt more for her than himself, settling on, at this point, digging his own grave in respect to the person he used to be. “Chelsea, I really am sorry. You had every right to say what you did. You could have said much more, honestly, if you wanted to.”

Aniq thinks to himself that he has never heard Yasper apologize this much in his life.

“I know,” Chelsea smiled. “I think what you’re trying to do, helping Aniq and all, will be good for you.”

“There’s not much else to do,” Yasper shrugged, and Aniq looked offended. “I’m kidding.”

“So, um, the thing with Jennifer,” Chelsea ran fingers through her hair. “I haven’t talked about her in ages. Zoe called me, and it was like...weird. We used to be a thing.”

“You and Zoe?” Yasper asked, just wanting to see Aniq’s reaction for the hell of it.

“Don’t think a girl didn’t try,” Chelsea winked. “Settle down, Aniq. So like, Jennifer 3 and I were really good friends first. She had all of these bold ideas, not just for the clothes she wanted to wear, find, or design, but for what life should have been. Think Xavier—big, bold, and lavish. Pictured a giant California King bed in a mansion on the outskirts of Hollywood, married to a bigwig and styling as many famous people as physically possible.”

“But she had a falling out with the other Jennifers?” Aniq asked. “That’s what Zoe said.”

“Yeah,” Chelsea continued. “They were making fun of her outfits all the time. I was really sick of it, but I was kind of new to the friend group, so I felt like I couldn’t say anything to them. One day, she came to school with this puffed sleeve dress that she came up with, but it was her spin on something from her mother’s closet, and we were like, 13, so it kind of fit loosely. A reasonably risqué choice for an 8th grader.”

“Oh no,” Yasper felt like he knew exactly where this was going, and that if his hands were free, he’d cover his mouth.

“The Jennifers were talking with Brett and Ned,” she strained, friction in every word. “They had grabbed one of her sketchbooks and were flipping through them, talking shit about everything. I think Brett or Ned made a joke not knowing whose it was, and Jennifer 3 was literally right there. As soon as the other Jennifers started saying all of these horrible things about what she was wearing that day, I think the guys became uncomfortable, because they did not want to be that big of assholes, but the damage was done. She ran home crying.”

“I tried to come over after school, but her parents wouldn’t let me in. That was the last day any of us saw her—it was a few days before summer vacation, so Zoe and I thought maybe she just needed some space. Nope. Their house had all the lights off, Aniq, and nothing in the windows or the driveway. Like someone snapped their fingers and everyone teleported.”

“What did the school do?” Aniq kept his finger loosely on the recorder. “I remember this vaguely, but again, it was like a week before school was out, and that’s all anyone could focus on.”

“Well, I told my parents, and they went to the front office, but apparently, the school already knew. According to them, Jennifer’s family just up and moved. They sent a written letter to confirm it. But it just felt...off. I don’t know why one of my best friends, um,” Chelsea started getting emotional. “...would just do that to me. I understand she was hurt, yeah.”

“The timing is just strange,” Yasper interrupted. “What did the Jennifers do?”

“Just pretended she was a figment of the past,” Chelsea could not meet their eyes. “They moved on. The only thing I have from her is some pictures of us and an earring she lent me.” She reached into her purse, retrieving an earring with a cube-shaped top and a golden disc beneath it, slightly weathered from time but shining nonetheless. Chelsea fumbled around longer for some photographs, taking out shots of two young girls posing cutely for the camera.

“We hung out all the time, even kissed, you know, just stupid kid stuff,” she straightened. “But I never got to tell her how I really felt. I think she was, honestly, my first love. Then she vanished.”

Yasper glanced over at Aniq, his heart thumping too loud for comfort.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “Losing someone like that is hard.”

Aniq, clearly thinking about his initial missed chance with Zoe, nodded in support.

“Yeah,” Aniq added. “But I don’t want you to lose hope. We might find her.”

“I don’t know if I even want you to find her,” Chelsea confessed, laughing as a way to shake off the tears.. “I’m scared that she might not want whatever I turned into. I finally love myself again, but I’m not who I used to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Yasper, wanting to reach out but thinking better of it, tried to comfort her. “Sometimes, love makes us a better person. It can also make us worse. But thankfully, you are you no matter what happened with Jennifer 3, Chelsea.”

She smiled, her nose scrunched up in sniffles and tickled amusement. “Thanks, guys. Didn’t think I would be getting advice from both a convicted killer and the world’s nicest man.”

“Thank you for saying that I’m nice,” Yasper ribbed, hoping for a reaction on Aniq’s face. “Can we keep these pictures?”

“I will keep the pictures,” Aniq corrected, turning them over in his hands and then turning his nose up at the other in slight protest. “Thank you, Chelsea. We’re going to try to talk to Brett next.”

“Good luck with that,” Chelsea said. “Can’t imagine he’s a huge Yasper fan right now.”

“A lot of people are,” Yasper pointed out, deliberately limiting the showy bravado of how he would typically deliver a line like that to be slightly more self-deprecating. “Louie, the corrections officer over there, tells me that during the trial, my name was at the top of all Google search results.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing, Yas,” Aniq reminded him.

“What do the other inmates think of you?” Chelsea prompted, genuinely curious. “Are you in, like, solitary confinement?”

“Oh, I managed to earn their respect,” Yasper said smugly. “At first, they tried to hurt me every single day because I wouldn’t stop singing, and I guess I look pretty easy to mess with or whatever—but, after I held auditions for the prison musical and really told some people whether they were true tenors or baritones, they all treat me like a regular Lin-Manuel Miranda here.”

“That is not true,” one of the corrections officers standing behind them spoke up.

“Come on Paul, you’re just mad because I wouldn’t let you be in ‘Les Misérables ,’” Yasper rolled his eyes. “Amatuers, you know? But that’s show business these days.”

“Alright,” Chelsea tried not to laugh. “Good for you, I guess.”

“Occasionally an Xavier superfan tries to shiv me, but that’s life,” he adds.

“Yasper, I worry about you,” Aniq says, against his better judgment. “Glad you’re making lemons out of lemonade, though.”

“That's all I can do,” Yasper leaned back, cuffed hands dangling above his head in a relaxed pose. “Chelsea, it was a pleasure.”

“I hope you figure something out to pass the time,” Chelsea tucked one of her curls behind her ear. “Yasper, as much as I am sorry that you’re in prison, this was good closure, at least for me.”

“Me too,” Yasper agreed, notably lighter in his disposition as he planned to bring out the air quotes. “I don’t think that ‘closure’ thing is going to work between me and Brett.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” Aniq folded his fingers, uneasy at what the future might hold.

When Aniq came back, he was momentarily lost in a flurry of papers dumped onto the table, looking like a spunky reporter who just received a wealth of important documents.

“Chelsea remembered after we talked that she actually had copies of these,” he tried to make sense of them, spreading everything around.

They were missing posters of Jennifer 3—crinkly, tattered, but intact.

“She actually made some?” Yasper inspected them. “That’s pure dedication.”

“Apparently, there were also some very creative mockups perfect for milk cartons,” Aniq grabbed a crumpled up gob of paper pulp that smelled strongly of ancient dairy products. “I think that’s what Zoe is remembering. Chelsea said she put these together anyways, just in case someone heard from her or saw her in another town. But, of course, no luck.”

“Where do you think this is going?” Yasper slid another page out of the way.

“So I listened to everyone’s mind movies, right?” Aniq appreciated the chance to talk about his theories. “I still feel like there’s some obvious red herrings, but also a couple of natural loose ends. Jennifer 2 sending Chelsea the texts was out of left field, even though it gives me context on how they could be how they are. Heather and Mr. Shapiro also felt like they would be more important in the grand scheme of things.”

“It’s obvious that Mr. Shapiro sacrificed Jennifer 3 for eternal life,” Yasper joked, opting for some sarcasm and trusty horror movie tropes as an answer.

 “I’m serious, Yas,” Aniq said, pulling him back to center. “Those random things I can kind of live with, but then there’s Danner’s other unsolved murder, too. She should be riding off the high of everything and closing that case with everything that knows. The way she thought there literally impacted how she approached your entire case.”

“There is also the fact that her case was destroyed in court by yours truly,” Yasper reasoned. “Maybe that’s why she’s hesitant, even though she’s 'famous' now.”

“But that’s not what she’s in it for,” Aniq pointed out. “She genuinely wants to do the right thing. I think, like many of us, Danner was caught up in the moment.”

“Mhm,” Yasper definitely understood that. “You know, I didn’t get to hear most of her story. You were busy sharing earwax with Zoe.”

“Which I now realize is why you were freaking out,” Aniq tapped the side of his head. “Figures.”

“Any updates on Brett?” Yasper deflected, the moment too close to his arrest for comfort.

“You just have to approve him,” Aniq reclined. “He has something to confess, too.”

Yasper tried to put his hands together and laugh evilly, but they were still cuffed.

“What’s up, asshole,” Brett pulled the chair out with his usual intensity. “Aniq, hey! Maggie is obsessed with that new show you put on for her. She will not stop watching it,” he elbows him in the ribs, and Yasper has never seen them trying to make this dynamic work before. Aniq, obviously out of his element, responds with an ‘ahhhh’ of casual bro understanding. “Really, though. I’m sending you the cable bill for the month.”

“Just get all streaming services already,” Aniq advised, forcing a wide grin. “Okay, let’s stay on track.”

“Sorry for everything,” Yasper cut in without much thinking. “It was a shitty thing to do. I thought it would be easy to blame you because of how you were, uh, back in high school.”

“And I thought you would just be an annoying little shithead nerd based on how you were in high school,” Brett flailed his fingers in exaggeration before crossing his arms. “Murder, Yasper? My ex-wife, who sometimes already hates me depending on the day of the week, almost had to explain to our kid that I was going to jail.”

“Any of us could have done it,” Yasper absentmindedly played with a string on his jumpsuit. He hated the color. Orange clashed with his aura, a far cry from the comfort of green. “I was just the one who actually did it. I’m not proud of framing anyone—I keep apologizing because of that, because that was a dick thing to do,” he splayed out his hands, newly free from the cuffs during visits as an indicator of good behavior. “But don’t do this for me. Do it for Jennifer 3. She’s gone, and it’s making people you actually care about upset.”

It almost mirrored their time at the reunion, with Brett eerily close to replicating stabbing a knife into the table like Aniq was pretty sure he saw happen there. Brett bristled, Yasper’s mouth hung open, and Aniq, still as stone but possibly more petrified, waited for his next move.

“Fine,” Brett rolled his eyes. “I’m assuming you know the story.”
“Tell us anyway,” Aniq transitioned naturally, giving him the time.

“I was with Ned and the other Jennifers by the vending machine,” Brett started, cracking his knuckles. “They just started flipping through this random book with all these drawings of clothes. One of them was just...ugly, I don’t know. I’m not a fashionable guy. Ned made a bad joke, I laughed, and then I asked them if it was Zoe’s, because then I realized I could really hurt her feelings. But they said no, and then they started insulting the dress Jennifer 3 was wearing, and I was like fuck, okay, maybe we should stop. She was right behind us and ran away in tears.”

Yasper leaned over around the other side of the table in a far-from-discreet fashion.

“You know it’s bad when Brett says it’s too much,” he whispered to Aniq.

Thankfully, Brett was in the past, annoyed and rubbing his temples.

“I never saw her again,” he acknowledged. “It was mean.”

“We can’t really track where she went after this,” Aniq said. “I don’t know if it’s worth talking to the Jennifers again, honestly. They are such—”

“They are the worst,” Yasper groaned in disgust. “I think they just keep getting pregnant so we feel worse about hating them.”

“I don’t hate them,” Brett corrected. “I just don’t want them near Zoe, or Maggie, or anyone else I love who is alive and breathing.”

“Xavier could be up for it, then,” Aniq said, stopping in his tracks afterwards. He was spending too much time with Yasper. Brett gave him an ‘are you serious’ look that only a father could give, while Yasper snickered in delight. It felt like how they used to be.

“Alright, well I hope you find her,” Brett got up abruptly. “Yasper, keep your crazy ass here, please. That’s what our tax dollars are for.”

“Can’t do much else about it,” Yasper gestured noncommittally with his hands. “ Byeeeee.”

“Aniq, that game next Sunday. You in?” Brett slid on his leather jacket. “I’ll buy.”

“Guess that means I’ll fly,” Aniq made a weird clicking noise with his mouth. “...Buddy.”

“You’re weird,” Brett snorted, stalking off and leaving the other two there. "Later."

“What the hell was that?” Yasper couldn’t tell if he was insulted or delighted at the material just given to him. “You guys hang out? Like, together?”

“Don’t,” Aniq forcefully leaned his forehead on his hand. “I’m trying to be civil, and all like, nice with him so that it’s easier for Zoe and I, because I love her, Yasper. Maggie, too. If it means I have to suck it up and be all macho with Brett every now and then,” he laid the argument out rationally. “Then so be it.”

“It’s your funeral,” Yasper stretched, pleased with the lack of restraints. “Which I wouldn’t be able to attend, you know. I’ll be here forever.”

“You’ll be here for less than 15 years!” Aniq enthusiastically undercut his logic. “The justice system is a complete joke. You could get out for my 50th birthday, let alone a funeral.”

Yasper perked up at that.

“...You would let me come?” he tested the waters. Aniq frowned.

“Look, I think we’re at a dead end,” Aniq breezed past that promise. “We need to approach this whole situation differently. You wouldn’t happen to have any ‘killer’ advice?”

“Ha ha,” Yasper returned, sticking his tongue out. “Not sure. Let me sleep on it.”

So he did.

At night, Yasper lay on the cold, metal frame of the prison bed, animatedly tracing designs in the ceiling with his finger in the air. He wrote a little heart with a ‘Y’ and an ‘A’ in it before mentally erasing everything, figuring that was too sad and pathetic, even for him.

“There has to be something missing,” he said out loud, slipping into another mind movie.

A black and white film noir began, shadowy figures and elusive criminals on the prowl just outside the pair’s dimly lit office. The door read ‘Adjaye & Lennov: Private Investigators’ in a classic bold, thick font that screams professionalism. Inside, as puffs of cigar smoke encircle the two men, a saxophone solo plays up as background to their quiet, intimate conversation.

“...that’s why I think milkshakes with fruit are still just smoothies,” Yasper blew out air, tracking it as it billowed through the space. “You know?”

“I don’t know about that one, pal,” Aniq shook his head, interest piquing as a rap on the door broke the suave rhythm of their conversation. “Come in.”

Zoe pushed open the door, dressed in what could only be described as timely garb befitting a real femme fatale—a black dress, sleek and professional, with a matching beret. Yasper and Aniq, in matching dress shirts and tightly trimmed pants, exchanged a glance.

“I’m looking for an Aniq Adjaye,” Zoe, in bold red lipstick, sauntered forward.

“That’s me,” Aniq stepped up, and Zoe extended her hand. Aniq hesitated, but took it, placing an awkward kiss on her knuckles. He cleared his throat and motioned for her to sit. “This is my partner, Yasper Lennov. Please, sit, miss...”

“Zhu,” she smiled faintly. “Zoe Zhu.”

“How can we help you?” Yasper puts his cigar out in a nearby tray, rolling up his sleeves halfway. “Awfully late time of night to come to a place like this.”

“Gentlemen, I must assure you that it’s for a reason,” Zoe crossed her legs, correct posture and all poise. “You see, I have reason to suspect that there’s been...a murder.”

A crack of lightning shot through the sky behind them.

“Murder, Ms. Zhu,” Yasper leaned against the mahogany desk, interest piqued. “Now, why do you think that?”

Zoe nodded, expecting the inquiry as a natural progression of the conversation. “I used to have a friend. Tall girl, dark hair. She’s been missing since we were kids, but lately, I am remembering her disappearance with some new context. A person I knew back then was just arrested, see, for a similar crime. It had me wondering about Jennifer. I think something awful has happened to her.”

“Interesting,” Aniq assessed her from afar. “Is this arrest...related to this Jennifer?”

“Don’t say anything,” Yasper put a finger to his lips, thinking back to newspaper headlines and police lineups. “Did you happen to know Xavier?”

Thunder boomed, cinematic and adding to the overall tension.

“How did you guess?” Zoe asked in shock. “I didn’t even say his name.”

“It’s only the biggest murder this town has ever seen,” Yasper continued, tilting his chin downwards in sly recognition. “Heard he pushed a man straight off a building. Detective nabbed him after making some wrong accusations, alright. She’s been closing cases in a frenzied fever ever since.”

“Yes,” Zoe replied. “But I can’t go to the cops with this. I don’t trust them.”

“Mhm,” Aniq stepped in. “Don’t worry, Ms. Zhu. You’re in the hands of the finest private investigators that all of California has ever seen. Is there any more information you can give us?”

Before another word could be exchanged, the door swung open again, and in walked Chelsea, dressed even more dramatically in an off-the-shoulder pink dress. Zoe rose from her seat, facing the mysterious woman.

“Chelsea,” she greeted warmly. “Fancy seeing you here.”

The other came closer, kissing her knuckles just as Aniq did moments prior. “Zoe.”

Yasper coughed on the lingering smoke from the cigar. He hated smoking.

“Ms. Chelsea,” Aniq introduced, “Adjaye & Lennov, at your service. I am assuming you are here regarding the same issue?”

“Afraid so,” Chelsea put a hand to her forehead. “Jennifer and I were lovers back in the day.” She poured herself bourbon from a side table without asking. “This is her earring. She was, quite frankly, the coolest cat I ever knew.”

“Speaking of which,” Yasper flipped a coin. “What makes you two think that this is a ‘purrfect’ crime?”

Aniq sighed. “Excuse my partner, but yes, why now?”

“I realized no one ever talked about her,” Zoe explained. “We had friends with the same names who pretended she never existed. My ex-husband, Brett, he...” she drifted off. “I think he accidentally hurt her feelings, same as them.”

“She was gone after that,” Chelsea cut in. “Gone with the wind.”

Yasper and Aniq locked eyes again.

“Where is this husband of yours?” Yasper asked, getting an idea.

The investigators grabbed their jackets, donned their hats and took to the rainy streets. It was fitting that their client previously involved herself with a well-known mobster like Brett, all brawn and no class. Yasper knew exactly where his type hung out, so they entered the dark bar, spotting him in the corner. He was donning a feathered fedora atop a strangely New York-like machismo, switching out the plumage to hang loosely from his mouth.

“Brett,” Aniq approached him, Yasper at his side. “Aniq Adjaye and Yasper Lennov, private investigators. We need to talk.”

Despite the noxious smell of booze in the air and overwhelming shade, a flash of something ran across Brett’s face. He turned to sprint, splashing his drink onto the man beside him and darting out into the alleyway through a back door.

“He’s getting away!” Yasper yelled. Thankfully, they caught up to him easily at the dead end of the narrow path, a cobblestone wall preventing Brett’s escape.

“Shit,” Brett swore, turning on his heels. “Okay boys, ya got me.”

“We just wanted to talk,” Yasper insisted. “About Jennifer.”

“One, two, or three?” he raised both eyebrows. “Genuine question.”

“This is going to be a long night,” Aniq scratched his head.

Yasper tossed and turned. The earring kept sticking out to him, more so than any of the other details. It was a fairly unique design, and something better suited for an adult than a teenager. In a perfect scenario, Jennifer 3 would appear out of thin air, the other matching piece attached to an ear that has heard too much. Gossip and hearsay swirling, an intoxicating mixture, the visual clue reminded him of the musical one he relied on. ‘How great is this party ’ was his ultimate crutch and inevitable downfall, so he felt a particular way about the accessory.

Then, it came to him, thinking of another person he almost blamed, but they had not talked to, the person always on the fringe of conversations, taking in yet saying little.

He must know something.

“Walt,” Yasper decided to himself. He was having trouble fitting the man into his police noir narrative, his personality less suitable for a corrupt politician or a vigilante than just, well, Walt. A town crier, maybe? But people tend to listen to them. Yasper snapped his fingers and launched back into the daydream.

After some mild, good old-fashioned intimidation—they sometimes resorted to tickling, but mostly Yasper just annoyed people until they gave in—the investigators were convinced Brett was all bark and no bite. He explained to them his childhood blunder, but had nothing else to give them. Brett promised that whatever illegal or illicit activities he was involved in now, they had nothing to do with that. The guy just had a love of fast paces and even faster cars.

“Remember that crime doesn’t pay,” Aniq tipped his hat to him. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Unless you’re a dirty cop,” Yasper quipped to Aniq, earning a pained roll of the eyes from the other. “...What?”

“That’s why we help stop the crimes, not commit more of them,” Aniq guided Yasper away from Brett, onto the next plan, seeming to know more than he let on. He nudged him harder, using a cough to successfully cover up the name. “Xavier.”

“Oh, don’t flip your wig, ace,” Yasper laid the 1940s slang on rather thickly, puffing out his shoulders. “Where to next?”

“We need someone who knows more,” Aniq replied. “Someone who doesn’t play the game, meaning...”

“Walt Butler,” Yasper snapped, triumphantly celebrating his own scheme.

The two headed to a lounge, where at the microphone, a pair of women sang onstage in sultry, long gowns complementing the song. A sign next to them said ‘The Jennifers,’ causing Aniq to figure out that those must have been the other two dames, rather than the one they were looking for as the night continued.

“What can I get you fellas?” the bartender, whose name tag read ‘Ned,’ asked.

“Scotch, neat,” Aniq and Yasper said in unison, always in sync. The building was a step above the seedy dive of the mobsters, but everything was still dimly lit, as if countless secrets were waiting to spill out from loose-lipped patrons onto the patchy carpet.

“What’s the chance that ‘The Butler’ is in?” Yasper slid a $20 bill to the bartender, who pocketed it and slid them their respective glasses. “We need to talk business.”

“That guy? I forget he’s even here,” Ned scoffed, cleaning up as he talked. “He’s probably upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Aniq raised his drink in respect, taking a sip before cringing at the taste.

“This is liquid garbage,” Yasper’s face twisted like he consumed something impossibly sour and exceedingly unpleasant. “...I say we dump it in that plant over there and go?”

“It tastes like a poisonous candle,” Aniq seconds. Narrowly avoiding Ned’s attention, they drop the alcohol in a pile of tangled roots and go on their way to approach the man whose nickname is as classically simple as he is effortlessly unremarkable. A couple is making out on the couch inside the room. One of them is clearly older, and the other is closer to their age, but they’re both forgoing the notion that public displays of affection can be tacky, especially in front of what is supposed to be another man’s side business.

Walt tripped as he rose from the cardboard box he was formerly sitting on.

“Don’t stop because of me or anything, guys, stay cool,” he mutters, nearly curtsying for Aniq and Yasper. “Yasper! It’s b-been a while. Do you finally remember my name?”

“He doesn’t like it that I call him ‘Slamps’ instead of ‘Walt’ or ‘The Butler,’” Yasper clarified for his partner. “Slamps, give us the rundown. You have to know something about a Jennifer 3, and I’m not talking about the dames onstage.”

“I’m sorry, what is his expertise?” Aniq cut in. “No offense, Mr. Slamps.”

“Walt,” he enunciates.

“Slamps is a former secretary,” Yasper ignores his correction. “Knows everything about everyone in office right now. But, he is an honorable guy, which hasn’t worked out for him with all of the sleazy characters about right now. He was always in the background where people didn’t notice him, so he gave out information, at a price, to those who asked. They caught him. Now, he’s stuck with years of bookwork, and probably never gonna be promoted to anything, but he is still the go-to man for what’s happening across town.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Walt sniffles. “At least someone noticed me.”

Aniq whistled to speed up the conversation, and Walt got the memo.

“So, Jennifer 3,” Walt cracked his knuckles in preparation before wincing at the sound. “Not to sound too cryptic, but I think you need to think about what happened before you guys got involved. You need to go back years and years ago. Someone in the big picture of things is covering for another person, giving them an earful to keep quiet. Basically, a person is streaking through a memory that may or may not be yours, and you have to find their robe and put it on.”

“What are you talking about?” Aniq was completely lost. “I mean, uh, sport, you’re gonna have to be clearer than that. We don’t have all day. Justice waits.”

“He can be like this,” Yasper figured. “Maybe it’s because of the wrong name.”

Yasper shot up. Name, name, name. Earful.

The earring. Identity. Revenge?

He needed to talk to Aniq.

“You really think Walt could help crack this?” Aniq seemed dubious.

“Think about it,” Yasper tapped the table. “He probably heard something no one else did. At the St. Patrick’s Day party, I was one of the few people who even acknowledged his existence. The dirt he must have on us.”

“Okay,” Aniq relented. “I think your visitor list is too long, though. You don’t want to be careful and leave room for your parents?”

“They won’t come,” Yasper said with a degree of finality that made Aniq pause.

He made the necessary arrangements.

“Yasper,” Walt said it strangely, like the name was foreign to him. “I’ll have you know that my mother knows where I am right now and if I go missing, she will go straight to you.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Yasper was getting tired of this. “Why does everyone think I have no control? Am I just going to go around pushing people day in and day out?”

Aniq thinks back to his own ‘proven shover’ comment and hesitates.

“Fine. Aniq, What do you want?” Walt nods. “O-old buddy...friend.”

“You don’t have to do all of that,” Aniq puts his hands out. “Walt, we appreciate you coming here. Just tell us about Jennifer 3.”

“Glad you asked,” Walt pats him on the shoulder. “Uhm, I guess no one mentioned it yet, but I saw her on the day they moved because I was their next-door neighbor.”

“What?!” Aniq got excited. “When was this?”

“June 16th,” Walt remembered. “Her parents were, uh, normal. I asked her where they were going and she said she had a fashion designer assistant position, like an internship, lined up in another city for the summer. She wanted to be closer to it.”

“She didn’t tell anyone she got it, she just left?” Yasper leaned on his hands. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Walt shrugged. “She told me not to tell anyone. I would have told somebody, but no one ever thought to ask me. I tried to tell Chelsea that she wasn’t missing, but I t-think she got upset and left before I could really say what happened.”

“That doesn’t sound like someone who was murdered,” Yasper scratched his chin. “Just weird. Aniq, you said you looked for people named Jennifer on social media with the same job and a similar appearance, right?”

“Yeah,” Aniq nodded in response. “Nothing looked very promising.”

“...What if she changed her name?” Yasper mused.

An epiphany crossed Aniq’s face, the reveal too much for him to capture or articulate in words.

“I have to go,” he blurted out. “Yasper, you signed off on the work release form I gave you, right?”

“Uh huh,” Yasper tried to read his face to no avail. “The judge approved it. You just have to let them know what day we can go out and be real private investigators.”

“That might be sooner than later,” Aniq grabbed all of his things in a haste. “Walt, you can come with me. I’ll show you the exit.”

“Bye, Yasper,” Walt waved, stopping halfway to do a peace sign instead, then finger guns which read as uncomfortable for everyone involved. “You know, I think you called me Slamps, but y-you’re in the ‘slam’-mer. Hah! Aniq, please laugh.”

“Nice to see you too,” Yasper dismissed them. “Don’t laugh.”

It’s agony waiting for Aniq to come back around, and equally painful because he refuses to tell Yasper what his big brain moment exactly was. Yasper enjoys well-timed suspense during a musical act or major motion picture, but he hates it in regular life. Impatience is his own virtue.

“You’re not getting paid for this,” Aniq ran over the details of the work release, fine print and all. “...Mostly because I’m broke, but also because anything that you make is going into paying your debts. Pretty sure you still owe your lawyers a ton of money.”

“It’s antisemitic that you think I care about money,” Yasper said in a flat tone. “Dude, I am so excited. I don’t even know what conclusion you came to, I’m just so happy to be on the ride with you.”

From how ‘well-behaved’ he’s been over these sessions, Yasper now has just an ankle chain tethering him to the spot behind the table. Every time one of the officers clicks him in, it’s been okay, because it means he gets to see Aniq. Like a puppy, eager and always partial to being a best friend, he would wait as Aniq made the journey from entrances and security checks, stowing his items and signing his name. His lawyers have been impressed in his upturn in disposition, too. It makes it easier for them to suggest filing an appeal, but Yasper realizes lately that he does not want that—He can wait until parole looms around, the person there in charge of his fate as the progression of his sentence moves naturally forward. Yasper likes moving forward.

“I’ll fill you in when we get there,” Aniq promised. “Hope you’re ready for some Los Angeles traffic.”

“Road trip!” Yasper fist pumped, turning to Aniq, then to the uniformed man on his right eyeing them somewhat suspiciously. “Uh, does someone have to come with us or...?”

“Nope,” Aniq grinned. “Don’t break the law or I’ll bring you right back.”

“Okayyy,” Yasper promised. “Goodbye all. See you soon, Paul!”

The correction officer in question groaned.

Aniq’s car was the same, and Yasper wondered how the process of returning his green rental car was for him. As he slid into the passenger seat like every time before, he realized that it might be the last time he, and they, do any of this. Closing the case was the end of it all, not the beginning. Try as he might, Yasper could not rewrite his mistakes. He just had this fleeting experience as a painful goodbye, bleeding open from the artery of his choices.

“You’re quiet,” Aniq says when they’re on the road. “Is this the ‘new’ Yasper?”

Yasper doesn’t say anything for a long time, deciding mentally how to approach it all. He can’t even bring himself to humor the joke.

“I’m sorry, again,” he just breaks, soft around the edges but truly shattered on the inside. “You could have done this all without me.”

Aniq’s eyebrows furrow, but he is, thankfully, focused on the path ahead.

“Hey,” he breathes in. “You...you really did help. Your whole comment on the name is what brought me here.”

“Really?” Yasper doubted that. “I didn’t even use any of my ‘hidden killer’ knowledge.”

“Well, good, because I don’t think you really are one,” Aniq took the lane, turning onto another highway exit. “I mean, technically you are. But I don’t think it’s who you are.”

The other mulled that over, savoring the edge of it. Under the layer of pretense, beneath the flimsy disguise of a charismatic person with few regrets, Yasper hated himself for what he had become. The ends did not justify the means; he could have lost Xavier in a million ways without losing Aniq, or anyone else who gave a damn, rather than crashing down, falling off the ledge of reality. Before Aniq came back, Yasper was frustrated, penning apology letters he never sent, then writing angrier words about Xavier, his circumstances, everything. He did not come across the way he wanted to in court, representing the jester instead of a crusading knight. Now, he felt like he had another shot, more than two, but less than he could wrap his mind around.

“Sometimes, it feels like you’ve forgiven me,” Yasper balls up the fabric in his fists. It’s another outfit that makes his skin crawl, just a drab, beige ensemble that they give to people looking to spend their days out of prison on visitation to the regular world of capitalism. “I don’t think I deserve that, honestly.”

Now, it’s Aniq’s turn to stay quiet, the noise of the turn signal filling the space. The radio is off, inviting silence to what is supposed to become the thrilling climax of their investigation.

“Yasper,” he says, firmly. “I do forgive you. I’m not sure you forgive yourself.”

Miraculously, Yasper’s heart didn’t stop. He thought it might, his every synapse held together by dry heaves and guilty, residual bile, because his body felt like a haunted house where every room only led to the inside of Xavier’s mansion. His waking moments went from ‘a friend wouldn’t do this’ to ‘all this time, I thought you were helping me’ in a snap, crudely drawn out lines on the wall of his prison cell staring back, betrayal, betrayal, betrayal.

Yasper deserved it all—unless, maybe he did not. If he put in the work, like this and to others, he could earn back some trust, prove himself better than his worst moments or largest missteps. If Aniq really did forgive him, that was all he needed, as sad as it sounded. All the others would just be the cherry on top of the fucked-up sundae he’d chosen as his last meal.

“I messed up,” Yasper gulped, though something still felt lodged in his throat.

“It might help you to know that I’m forgiving you for myself,” Aniq clarified. “For me.”

So there it was, reassuringly. Aniq was not forgetting his own importance. The way they paralleled each other in Danner’s last confrontation, Yasper finally choosing someone else and Aniq standing up for himself, it kept going to suit Aniq’s ongoing journey. He made decisions on terms that no one else had to speak on or affirm.

“Okay,” Yasper heard him. “Good.”

“Also, I’m pretty sure you would want to keep doing this, if you could,” Aniq tossed him a smile. “Us on our way to solve a mystery like we’re two old, wisecracking P.I.s in a film noir, revealing the dark underbelly of the city and helping in ways the police just can’t.”

Yasper reciprocated. “It’s definitely fun. Much better when you’re not the killer, I must say.”

“There we go,” Aniq warmly regarded him, switching on some music. “Look, we’re almost there.”

They stopped in front of a vacant lot. Years ago, a villa might have stood there, a hulking building in the middle of a well-off neighborhood, but today, it was cleared, an empty husk of its former self. Aniq’s face fell as the car rolled to a stop, slowly inching up the hill.

“Um,” he blanked. “That’s not good.”

“Is there supposed to be a house there?” Yasper chimed in, getting his bearings together.

“They moved!” Aniq thumped a palm against the steering wheel. “Of course they did.”

“Who moved?” Yasper asked, still in the dark.

Then, a woman emerged from around the corner, crossing on a pair of high heels. Aniq shushed Yasper without a sound, evaluating from afar. She made her way over to the mailbox, which was there, practically bursting from the amount of content inside.

“I think that’s her,” Aniq whispered. “Follow my lead.”

Yasper slipped out, following Aniq as he came around the car. Aniq made the same movements in pursuit on the asphalt road, straightening his jacket out. Yasper thought he looked very professional.

“Hello, Tatiana,” Aniq approached, surprisingly smug in his findings. The woman turned, completely freezing with her mail in tow. “Yasper, meet Jennifer 3.”

“Excuse me,” she panicked slightly, searching for a way to follow up the accusation while maintaining her image, but her hands trembled. “Who the hell are you?”

Yasper looked back and forth between them, wordlessly begging Aniq for more.

“Aniq Adjaye, private investigator. Yasper, this is the costumer from the show Marshall Law,” Aniq explained. “The case with Danner’s unsolved mystery—the one that led her to figuring out you were the killer.”

“Wait, wait,” the woman, allegedly Tatiana, or Jennifer 3, whatever, paused. “ You killed someone?” Tatiana lifted her chin at Yasper, appearing, well, shocked. “But you’re so scrawny.”

“In prison, they call me the ‘Scrawny Shover,’” Yasper pretended to look as threatening as he could, given that he had no reason or motive, just pure annoyance. “So, Tatiana, or should I say, Jennifer #3—Why all of the lies?”

“Slow down,” Tatiana threw her hair back, revealing a familiar earring that caught Yasper’s attention immediately. “I don’t even know who you people are.”

“Like I said, I think you remember Not-Detective Danner,” Aniq elaborated, keeping his distance. “You’re still married to Vaughn, I presume?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Officer Danner ended up setting free the person who killed my husband’s first wife.”

“But that’s not true,” Aniq fought back. “Tatiana, where is Vaughn right now, and why is your house gone?”

“We sold this one,” she crossed her arms. “A new family owns the property. They’re going to start building a new house soon. I just come by every now and then to get the mail that hasn’t quite switched over.”

“Somewhere smaller?” Aniq shifted the weight to his other foot. “His career hasn’t been as successful as in the days of Marshall Law.”  

“Yes,” Tatiana popped gum, irritated at the dig towards her husband. “Guess you could say that. You know, I haven’t heard anyone call me Jennifer in years. I moved back then, too...” she mumbled, trading annoyance for meekness. “I was embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed of murder?!” Yasper raised his voice, too dramatic for the situation. Aniq gestured for him to keep it under control, dialing it back several notches.

“What, no,” she sighed. “The Jennifers were bitches. I, um...”

“That’s just a fact of life, but you have to have more to say for yourself than that,” Aniq waited. “Zoe—my girlfriend, was really worried about you. Why did you change your name?”

“Can we, uhm, not talk about this here?” she glanced around. Tatiana was starting to get paranoid, even as the street buzzed more with bugs in the summer heat than living people.
“I’m allergic to police stations,” Yasper said. Aniq elbowed him.

“We’re actually not police,” Aniq added. “Yasper being a convicted murderer and all.”

“Aniq!” Yasper rolled his eyes. “I prefer the term ‘restricted artist.’”

“Also, I might have, uh...” Aniq pursed his lips. “Called in some friends?”

A police car, their sirens on, came blazing down the street before halting beside them.

“Police!” Danner got out, her gun drawn and face confused. “What the hell?”

“Oh my god, hi!” Yasper waved. “Didn’t know you guys were going to be here.”

Culp, coming from right next to Danner, nearly growled in response.

“What are you doing with Tatiana?” Danner nodded to Culp, the other supporting her because Tatiana, and well, also Yasper, had their hands up, his just as a precaution. “You better start talking, Aniq.”

“See, this is perfect,” Aniq became animated, moving about wildly like he usually did when explaining a puzzle. “As a private investigator, I cannot arrest people, and I cannot accept confessions. But you...”

Danner scrutinized his expression. “Really?”

“It’s a redemption arc!” Yasper clapped, then remembered he probably needed to be handcuffed, again, when it came to how they viewed the situation. “Culp, buddy, hey. Can you handcuff me? I took them off for funsies.”

Culp looked at him with an intense ‘I hate you’ stare.

“What am I even going to be arrested for, lying?” Tatiana crossed her arms.

“No,” Aniq corrected. “For murder.”

“Why is it okay when you want to do it?” Yasper whined. Culp, almost as satisfied as the first time, cuffed him in the interim, using his fingers to point from his eyes to Yasper to indicate he was watching. Yasper blew him a kiss.

“Aniq...” Danner came next to him. “Explanation, please.”

“Tatiana is the third Jennifer,” Aniq gestured. “The missing one.”

“There’s a third one?!” her voice shot up several octaves. Birds flew from a nearby tree.

“It’s almost like you guys are bad at your jobs or something,” Yasper mumbled.

“It’s okay, it was before high school. But Danner, Zoe remembered her in her mind movie, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the unsolved case in yours,” Aniq explained. “I didn’t know they were going to be related, at first, but everyone else, and Yasper, helped me put things together.”

“Jennifer 3 is Tatiana, the costumer,” Danner repeated in understanding. “Why the name change?”

“I didn’t want to tell anyone I was leaving,” Tatiana continued, flustered. “The other girls made me feel like I was talentless and that I’d never make it. I had this really cool opportunity lined up for over the summer where you could get into a vocational school specializing in design. My parents were going to come with me, move all of us, you know. A fresh start for all of us. I just got out of there as fast as possible.”

“Tatiana is my middle name,” she added. “It felt more comfortable and less like I was one of them.”

“That’s one mystery solved,” Yasper cut in. “I’m assuming you think...”

“That she will tell us she knows enough to close the murder case of Vaughns’s wife? Precisely,” Aniq sounded straight out of a witty police procedural. “Because—and I saw you either got a replacement or found another pair, but we have your earring.” He took out the accessory from his pocket, identical to what she was wearing.

“I don’t know how you have that,” Tatiana said. “I only gave that to...”

“Chelsea? Yes, she’s my friend,” Aniq held them up. “She never got to say how she felt about you. You just disappeared. Then, we all grow up, and Chelsea is smack dab in the middle of a murder investigation where she is blamed for it, and criticized, multiple times.”

“I didn’t know all that,” Tatiana bit her lip. “Vaughn never—”

“Imagine you’re Chelsea. You never have answers, you always wonder if there is more you should have done, and there’s a gaping hole in your heart. That’s how everyone who loved Uma feels with her case being open. If only there was someone who either might have seen something,  or ‘helped,’ who could make things right by telling the police what really happened.”

All eyes fell on Tatiana. She was, frankly, worn down from years of holding the truth in.

“Fine,” she wiped a tear, “I’ll go to the station. I’ll tell you.”
“Tatiana, stop. We can do it right here,” Danner nodded. “Let me just read you your Miranda rights.”

So Tatiana confessed what Danner guessed all those years prior—Vaughn texted Uma so that she would come to the door, with him dressed as the viral thief, and killed her. Tatiana waited outside when Vaughn, now feeling free and ready to continue his affair uninterrupted, told her the deed was done. They married, eventually, Tatiana unable to escape for fear of her falling to the same fate. To finish with all of the other unglamorous parts of solving crime, Danner arranged for another officer to drive Aniq and Yasper to the station, while her and Culp took the suspect there in the vehicle they came in. Yasper was still handcuffed, dutifully obeying the jurisdiction of Culp, who had trouble believing Yasper would ever be let out on work release.

“Come over here,” Danner made a ‘come hither’ finger wag, once she took all the statements and got her bearings. Watching Vaughn arrive in handcuffs a short while after the break would be a sight she’d gladly replay over and over again. “...Actually, nevermind. Leave Yasper there.”

Yasper got the memo, taking to the bench away from them.

She eyed Aniq with interest.

“You closed my case,” Danner frowned. “I knew you would be a good cop.”

“I’m not, though,” Aniq returned. “At the end of the day, your name gets the credit. You were the one who cracked that it wasn’t Willow.”

“I’m surprised you remember all of that,” Danner was impressed. “Pretty good eavesdropper, too. But how did he get involved?”

They looked over to Yasper, who was sitting down, happily listening to the music playing in the station. He kicked his feet a little. Maybe he should have been upset, knowing the end was near, but helping actually did feel good. Who would have thought?

“I wanted to give him a second chance,” Aniq said. “Also, I knew for something like this, I would need to think it through with someone who not only knew the main players, but could have been realistically in that same mindset before. We just didn’t find the killer—we found the mistress, the missing girl, and the killer, who probably thought he’d never get caught.”

“I meant, with the judge and everything,” Danner smirked. “Legally.”

“Call it my persuasive nature,” Aniq replied. “Can you just promise me that the next time you handle a murder investigation, you will do things...”

“Right?” she raised an eyebrow. “Sure, baby. I’ll call you.”

Danner clapped him on the shoulder.

“I hope you’re doing well,” she said fondly. “Just watch out for that one.”

Aniq nodded, wanting to leave the station in good spirits. He saw Yasper, who raised his hand, saying hello, but also saying goodbye.

His throat feels scratchy when he turns the key in the ignition.

When they finally return to the prison, going through the process of getting Yasper back to his constraints and prison pleasantries, Aniq was looking at him strangely.

“I have to get something from my car,” he said, darting out in record timing. “Just wait.”

“Yeah, we have all the time in the world,” one of the officers grumbled, taking Yasper back to the table. Visiting hours were nearly over, with only a few other people hanging around. Aniq came back, an important-looking document in tow. He sat down opposite Yasper, like many times before, and slid it over.

“What is that?” Yasper waited. The manilla color was too plain for his preferences.

“It’s a letter,” Aniq rubbed the back of his head. “Where I recommend, officially, that they should let you out on parole and I will testify as a character witness on your behalf. I had something ready in case you helped solve a crime, which you did, s-so if you could get your record expunged or you’re just honest about your history, since your likelihood of reoffending is low, you might even be able to get a private investigator’s license...” he faltered. “But maybe at the least you could, you know, get out. Or continue to help me, in the meantime.”

Yasper could not move. It hurt to breathe.

“I don’t think they will take your very biased opinion into consideration,” Yasper drummed his fingers anxiously on the table, afraid that the pointed truth would hurt Aniq more than he wanted it to. “I, um, killed someone and planned it. I had the chance to stop, and I didn’t. Then, there was a big trial where I made an absolute fool of myself. Everyone laughed at me, not with me. I realized I was exactly what Xavier said,” he wiped away tears. “I am a loser. But worst of all, I hurt people I cared about. You, Zoe...well, I thought Chelsea, but she seemed pretty happy to see me get arrested at first, so I don’t know. I am not going to ask you to compromise your new practice or upend your life. You don’t deserve that.”

“Yas...” Aniq figured glass could shatter from the amount of pressure between them.

“You don’t deserve me,” Yasper finished. “So, please. Take this as closure and go back to Zoe. You did a good job, and you would have done it with or without me...” he faded off. “I love you, Aniq. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I fucked it up.” He smiled, sweetly sincere but frayed wires underneath. “I really love you. But you have to let me go, and I you. Or else, you are never going to be happy. We have to close this chapter and move on.”

But it was Aniq’s turn to be irrational, and damn it, why did he care so much?

“No, we don’t have to,” Aniq found himself getting upset, and a little angry. “Yas, this doesn’t have to end. We can be real investigators someday, if you try hard enough, just...”

“I’m not worth saving,” Yasper finished for him.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Aniq shook his head. “No.”

“Then what?” Yasper was exasperated and tired, like it was gnawing at his core. They were emulating each other, torn up and fucked up inside, playing swan songs at the same volume.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you,” Aniq fought off his own tears, annoyed as they came out. “I don’t want to say goodbye. Whether I like it or not, whether it makes sense or not, I want to be by your side, hearing your stupid opinions on things and listening to whatever off-beat ska band you want to listen to. I want to pretend almost like we’re in high school, but both more mature, we both finally know what we want in life, right? We’re not those people anymore, but I also know you’re not who killed Xavier,” he took a breath, sharply. “You’re not your worst moment, and neither am I.”

“Aniq, I did it,” Yasper cast his eyes down. “It doesn’t matter. You learned to put yourself first, and I want you to keep it that way. If that means being miles away from each other, then...” he met his gaze again. “I’m okay with that. You need to be the Aniq Adjaye you were when you stuck up for yourself in front of all those people, when you realized I was behind the door and knew that because of your morals, your own self-preservation, that Aniq mattered most and I, of course, needed to...” he can’t do this for much longer. “Needed to go down for it. It’s fine. I just don’t want this to burden you. I might be here until I die, like, until I am so old, they have to spoon feed me gray mush and hope I don’t gag on it in my sleep. I’ll just know that I had a real friend before and after the worst mistake of my life, which is comforting, you know? If I choke on prison meatloaf, dying and ready to face whatever the hell waits for me at the end, I’ll know that you mattered, Aniq,” he finished. “You mattered, and I loved you, but you loved yourself more. That’s what I want, man. It’s all I want.”

Aniq did not expect a goodbye. He did not expect a farewell, something so insidious and cruel and spiking thorns into his side when he, foolishly, expected a red rose might blossom instead. It was a lost cause.

“I love you,” Aniq said, but he was shaking. “I love you, Yasper. Even if I kind of hate you right now.”

Yasper smiled. “It's not the first time, and I love you too. Promise Zoe you won’t come back here.”

Reluctantly, in two shots, Aniq let go. “Okay. I’ll promise her.”

He does not tell Yasper that his fingers are crossed behind his back.

The chair in front of Yasper stays empty for years. He sees people come and go, young and old, with no one from his life ever showing up unexpected. Yasper is 43, give or take, slightly gray at the ends but at peace. He knows that he is up for parole, and even though his case technically has aggravating factors or whatever, since he waited to kill Xavier, he has been a “model prisoner” who nimbly escaped the chance of more charges like a true gymnast.

“He’s just annoying and bursts into song far too often,” his parole officer wrote once.

He could live with that. They grant him parole, despite the media frenzy, which makes Yasper think wow , the justice system is a joke. I mean, he should have learned that when Danner did not read him his Miranda rights before taking a confession, or when Aniq was punished because of Xavier—no, Eugene ’s, selfish actions.

The time he spent behind bars seemed to be for his ego, his sheer dedication, at first, until it settled into something transformative. He did not have to pretend, anymore, putting up a mask of his own face when taking on the day, each grinding, grueling AV installation at a time.

To unravel Danner in front of the courtroom, when Yasper knew deep down her heart was in the right place, felt...kind of reductive, to him. He could have listened to his lawyers, taken the lesser charge with an admission of guilt. But he put on a show. This way, it was not in vain, he was not just a loser, he was the loser. The loser who killed Xavier. The loser who now had streams in the millions and still, convincingly, a career after the curtains closed.

He doesn’t have a phone or anyone there, when they let him out. One foot in front of the other, he strides forward into the world he has not seen since the day of his work release.

All he can think of is Aniq, but he has little to no information on where he would be. In theory, he could be halfway across the world, solving mysteries and creating puzzles of the highest caliber. But Yasper never moved. He never...no, he did change, it was just most of the hard work was in the sharp aftermath of closure with his dearest friend. He’s had to accept this was all that lay ahead of him, a desolate, deep abyss.

There’s rain falling, gently. A drop of it touches his hair, years past the last time he remembered encountering the sensation, foreign and strange. It reminds him of tears, bold and cascading down faces, creating romance or despair as it travels.

Yasper closes his eyes, taking in the scene. For some minutes, he does not think of racing to a café and begging a stranger to pull up his Spotify artist page or tweeting that ‘yazzmatazz69 is back, bitches’ to a horde of eager followers. He forgets about the material things that motivated him to commit the crime in the first place, lost in the sounds of nature.

But then he just wants Aniq, honestly—to know he’s okay, that he and Zoe are married, maybe even that Chelsea found true love, Walt became well-known and Brett toned things down. Yasper might even be curious if Danner ever rose in the ranks or if any of Indigo’s shady businesses took off. He knows he is not entitled to that, rarely even privy for messing up their lives so much, but to Yasper, it’s where his life came to a grinding halt. When everything stopped, he took note of those around him, the bubble of Hillmount High gone with a ‘pop.’

Now, what did he have? Rain and reflections to no one in particular.

He kicked a rock across the grass as an outline of a person came through the fog.

“Yasper.”

Aniq is also a little older, still as lovely as Yasper remembered. He has a bit of a beard and a careful smile with a muted, legitimate brightness like he just walked out of high school. The other did not know how to go from here, clad in his release pants and new mindset.

“I told you not to come back here,” Yasper said, mostly wound up in disbelief.

“You’re out now, aren’t you?” Aniq cocked his head to the side, a ring on his finger.

Yasper just wants one thing, really. He gives Aniq a hug, fitting his chin on Aniq’s shoulder and experiencing a warmth greater than he has ever felt wandering the prison grounds alone. Friendship suits them, and always has.

“I don’t know where I go from here,” Yasper says, earnestly. “Who I am, now...”

Aniq pulls away, his mouth straightening into a straight line. He understands.

“We can figure it out together,” Aniq nods. “Come on.”

Even though the other will never love him like that, Yasper is okay, really.

Because when he’s with Aniq, everything is alright.

He's home.