It's been five, infuriating days since that night, when I decided to walk the path of the detective once more.

I've called both families, multiple times, only to be diverted to voicemail each time. And no one is calling me back either.

Though Jeonguk had been willing to give me a head's up, he's also only a beat cop, and has no real information to share with me. And Seokjin?

Well, he seems to have been rather busy lately, never seems to have time for my calls.

It strikes me as odd. My mentor is,  the kind of man who enjoyed what he does for a living. Hell, he'd unintentionally ruined two marriages for the sake of his job, and though it'd been shitty circumstances, I'd always admired his tenacity and drive to get the job done.

But he'd still always made time for me before.

I lean against the railing, frustrated as once more I stand on the roof deck and stare out at the city below.

Nari would have loved this view.

The early morning city air leaves tendrils of wispy exhalation in the air every time I breath, and I suddenly find myself hankering for a nice hot cup of coffee.

I can feel the moisture in the air, and tell by the amount of mist wrapping it's mysterious form about our streets that it's going to be a wet, drizzly kind of day.

"I'm gonna need my umbrella, " I think to myself. "But where'd I put it?"

I pull my coat just a little tighter as I descend the open stair well to my apartment, long legs taking multiple steps at a time.

Luckily, I only need to walk down a single flight.

There's an elevator you see, on the thirty-fifth floor, but the roof deck is detached, and only accessible via the stair well.

Also fortituous, I live on the twenty-eighth floor, so I'm not forced to listen to annoying elevator music for more than a few moments.

I shiver as I step through the door to my studio, the warm air a stark contrast to my current body temperature.

A handful of umbrellas sit in a small, cylindrical container by the door. A few are broken, snapped in half, or spines missing, but a couple of them are serviceable enough.

I grab the one closest the door, white, with a sleek black handle. Nothing flashy, but it'll do the trick. Doubling checking my pockets, I make sure that I have everything I need.

Wallet? Check. Cellphone? Check.

Apartment keys?

Check.

I'm ready to go.

There are more than a few cafes in Seattle, but my favorite is just across the street from the precinct. Of course, there are a lot of fond memories, shared with Kim and Jeon in that place.

Like the morning after my first stake out with Seokjin, and the night that Guk had almost lost everything. We'd gathered in one of the booth's then, each reassuring Jeonguk that he would pass, he would graduate, and begging him to just have a little faith.

I remember the night I'd stopped by with Guk after work, and the phone call that changed my life forever, the news that Nari was going into labor. Soon I would be a dad.

But that wasn't the only life altering phone call, and not all attached memories so sweet.

There was the time that Seokjin tried to meet with his son, Taehyung. Tae's mother is Seokjin's first wife, and the boy has never forgiven his father for his dedication to his work. I even remember the time that I personally pulled Taehyung aside, when I'd tried to reason with the kid, but whatever it is that his mother was spewing, the kid seemed to have been biting, and hard.

I'd also received that call there, the call that led me home and to my family on that night was also received in those hallowed booths. Jeonguk and I had come out alone, determined to keep our tradition alive despite Jin's melancholy. We wanted him to join us, but he was taking his son's rejection pretty hard, so we left him be.

I haven't been back in years, I wonder how much has changed?

Based on my previous experience with riding the bus, I know that once I board it'll take only about thirty minutes for arrival. Living in the international district isn't that far in terms of distance, I've traveller much farther, but it had been just far enough from downtown to escape my old life.

It was good enough, at the time.

The bus arrives right on schedule, a first lately. For the last few weeks the 3:45 is late by at least ten, if not a full twenty minutes, and I grumble slightly to myself.

"I was just thinking of lighting up a cigarette..."

But tough shit, right?

So I board the bus, hold my phone against the card reader near the driver herself, and then tentatively scan the bus for an empty seat. Preferably one that is completely empty.

It isn't that I don't like people, necessarily, but I'm not too good with them. Not after Nari's death. She'd been the social butterfly, and I'd adapted.

I find a good seat, near the back of the bus, and make myself as comfortable as I can. I feel like eyes are watching me, but then, I've felt that way often as of late. Ever since my family was killed, even.

It's probably a form of paranoia, but the detective in me reminds me to be wary all the same.

The driver pulls the lever, and the bus' doors begin to slide shut. But he's interrupted, and forced to open the door once more as a mousy woman with ashen hair, swept back into a messy bun, waves for his attention.

She thanks him profusely as she boards, and I notice that her voice is very quiet. She seems to have been crying quite often lately, because her emerald eyes are tinged with red, lids puffy from having been rubbed so much.

But she smiles curiously at the driver nonetheless.