Connor hated how he had the tendency to stare at things that he found pleasant.

There was a window in his apartment that he always kept covered. If he looked out of it, he'd have the perfect view of the apartment complex across the street, housing some of the richest people in Detroit. It had unnecessarily large rooms, and Connor envied everyone living in there- mostly because they were using it half the time.

In his case, the window that was normally covered faced a window in someone else's apartment- and looking out of it would give him a great view of the building, and inside whoever lived there. He learned the hard way that the woman that used to live there had the tendency to walk around her place in very skimpy outfits as if she didn't know that she could potentially have an audience. And while most men would kill to have a view like that, Connor was the exact opposite, and very concerned for her privacy.

One accidental peek caused him to close the curtains.

If he wasn't so bad at talking with people, he could've even convinced himself to tell her that- while he wasn't checking her out- he couldn't trust anyone else in his sketchy building not to. And maybe he should've, but he would rather die than feel the awkwardness in that conversation.

But, fortunately, that was only temporary. The woman living there moved out, and by the time Connor found out, she was long gone.

At the time, he was moving around things to make his apartment seem less cramped. After he almost knocked something over, and he felt himself get curious, he opened the curtains to take a quick peek outside.

And holy damn.

He was met with a... very pleasant view. A man had his window open, and from what Connor could tell, he was just moving some boxes around the place.

He just... watched.

And sure, if he was thinking straight right now, he would've told himself that staring was creepy and that, if he were caught, this view would be temporary.

But, for some reason, he couldn't.

The guy wasn't even doing anything special- and yet it was enough to catch his undivided attention. He tried justifying his reasons, telling himself that he probably recognized this man, but nobody came to mind by just looking at him.

The man paused and looked out of the window, straight at him, and Connor almost ripped the curtain at how fast he closed it. He was just caught- shit- he probably made him extremely uncomfortable.

He should probably apologize.

Then again, that meant he had to actually interact with this stranger. So, no thank you.

________

Connor would never get used to his alarm clock ringing loudly in his face. He slammed the button until it was off, careful not to break it like he had with many clocks before this one.

It was just another boring morning for him. He got dressed, told himself that he'd open up a window and get some air by the time he got back, and left the apartment with full trash bags in his hands. They weren't necessarily heavy- nothing he couldn't carry on his own, but he wasn't afraid to admit to himself that carrying them down the stairs was definitely not fun.

He walked outside, past the entrance that was covered in graffiti, and towards the dumpsters on the side.

Even from a slight distance, Connor could see the color of his eyes when their gaze locked on to each other. One dark blue, one a jade green. Multicolored eyes locked on to his, which must've been boring in comparison.

It was the stranger he saw from his window.

The man smiled, and Connor's heart melted. He tried to smile as well, but he knew it looked weird. As it always did.

"Need help there?"

Yes, yes he really did. Preferably emotional-

Oh. He was talking about the trash bags in his hands.

"Uh- N. No." He hated how his voice sounded. So early in the morning, and yet, he felt like shit. "I'm good. Thanks. But no."

He felt that rambling on any further would've actually killed him. Before the stranger could continue talking, Connor walked away, and ended the conversation.

________

"Hank!"

"What's wrong."

He fidgeted, almost dropping the phone in his hand, "I know I haven't called you in a while- and I'm so sorry, we should actually have a meet up soon. Maybe we could have a nice walk, God knows the last time you've been outside on your own terms- but that's not why I originally called."

Connor was surprised to find that Hank could understand his rambling, "Why'd you call, then?"

"I was, uh... I was wondering if I could walk Sumo around my area for a bit. Preferably tomorrow. Preferably really early in the morning."

"Why?"

"Because the only animal I have is a fish, and I can't casually walk them around my building." He huffed out a sigh, "I promise I'll answer your concerns later. It's just a solid. I need to see something."

He knew he had his attention when Hank asked, "How early?"

"Don't worry." He assured, "I won't wake you."

________

It wasn't easy finding the false rock that Hank hid a copy of his key in, seeing that all of them looked the same in his tired eyes. And, though he'd never say it out loud, he wouldn't be surprised if Hank couldn't locate it, either.

He did eventually find it. The dog, Sumo, was near the door and ready to greet Connor by the time he got the door to open. He put a leash around him, walked back to his apartment, and waited.

And there he showed up almost 20 minutes later, walking out of his own building with cardboard boxes he hoped was getting recycled. Connor pushed the door open, letting Sumo walk out first as if they hadn't paused, and continued their walk. He needed to be casual with all of this. He needed to look casual.

They locked eyes. Just like they had during their last interaction, Connor felt a weird fluttery feeling in his stomach. He had to brush it off as nerves, even as it got worse when the man flashed him another. Even as his brain reminded him that he wouldn't mind living in this feeling for long periods of time.

The man opened his mouth, probably to speak, but Connor wasn't the type to talk easily. He panicked, walking in the opposite direction the man was just to avoid talking to him. What was he going to say, anyway? What if he recognized him as the guy looking at him through his window? What if he was passive aggressive, and the smile was only meant to lure him into a false sense of security before he started hounding him for spying on him through the window?

Nope. No thank you. That was the last thing Connor needed right now.

________

Connor preferred knocking on people's doors, but when it came to Hank, he pressed the doorbell and held it there until he got an answer. Hank never liked answering the door, so his knocking wouldn't have attracted much attention. Plus, Connor found it funny. He had to hold back snickers when he heard angry footsteps over the loud buzz, backing up when he heard the door's lock click. The door swung open and missed him by inches, but he was used to it.

"You said you wouldn't wake me up early." Hank almost snapped.

"It's almost noon, Hank. I came around 7 to get Sumo."

"Why the hell did you need Sumo for 5 hours?"

"Emotional support?" He tried with that same stupid smile.

"For what?"

"Life. Can I come in?"

Hank let him in.

"Want coffee, or..."

"I got my own beverage, thanks." He held up a blue slushie, a drink he got on the way over.

"Make yourself comfortable, I'm getting myself a cup."

It took a while. He let Sumo run around, and sat at the kitchen table. His posture was straight at first, as if he expected Hank to come back anytime now, but when the reality of the situation hit him, Connor slouched.

When Hank returned, he was contemplating taking a nap.

"So?" He asked.

"So?"

"Why'd you need Sumo?"

Connor rested his chin on his hand, thinking of how to phrase this without sounding completely weird.

"You know the lady I told you about? The one that lived in the apartment complex next to mine?"

"The one that walked around half naked?"

"...yeah."

"What about her?"

"She moved out. At least, I think she did. I took a look out my window, and there was someone else moving in."

"Why the hell did you need Sumo?"

Connor contemplated telling the truth. In the end, he supposed that it wouldn't hurt if the lieutenant didn't know.

"I thought I recognized him, and it kept bothering me, so I needed a closer look. I took Sumo out for a walk, and... waited until he left so I could... get a closer look."

And oh boy oh boy, did he have mixed feelings about that. On one hand, the stranger saw his face, and that wasn't what he wanted... but on the other, he got a good look at the stranger's face, and it was the best thing he's seen in a long time.

"You borrowed Sumo so that you could stalk someone?" He clarified, causing Connor to snap out of his momentary daze, and sigh.

"I'd appreciate it if you phrased it better, I already feel bad doing it."

"You waited 6 hours for this guy to walk out-"

"Hey- I only had to wait for 20 minutes."

"Then why the hell did you have him for that long?"

"Sumo provides fantastic emotional support, knowing that the man probably recognized me when I first saw him, and doesn't want to see me ever again after this." He frowned, "I also wanted to have a chat with you, so I waited until I thought you'd be awake."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Did you at least find out who he was?"

"No."

"Jesus Christ, kid- just talk to him."

"I can't, old man. I already tried that." He suppressed a snicker when a glare was sent his way, "I can't talk to strangers. He won't understand a word."

Hank sighed, frustration obvious. Connor honestly couldn't blame him.

"All right- what did he look like?"

"He's a dark-skinned man with two different colored eyes. One blue, one green." Both memorizing and enchanting, "He's also around my age, and... doesn't have much hair."

Hank scratched his chin.

"Sounds like Markus."

"Who?"

"You know that painter, Carl Manfred? Some of his paintings got stolen, and I actually got to meet him. He had a son that greeted me when I first walked in, and he sounds like the description you gave." He explained.

"I can't believe you remembered him."

"I've never seen anyone with that eye color. Very unsettling- and rare." He narrowed his eyes, "He lives across the street from you?"

"Yeah. And now, he's probably going to get a restraining order."

"Did you do that... thing?"

"Thing- what thing?"

"Did you stare at him? It's the creepiest shit."

Connor groaned, face finally hitting the table.

"Maybe," he muttered when the silence continued, and he assumed it was because Hank waited for an actual response.

"Worst case scenario, he thinks that you're a fan."

He turned his head, cheek now against the table, and eyes on the sink. "Worst case scenario, he thinks I'm stalking him with the intent to kill him."

"He doesn't think that."

"I live in a sketchy place, Hank. If he doesn't think that, he'd be out of his goddamn mind."

"You don't look threatening."

"I feel like your view on me is different because you've known me all my life."

Hank rubbed his face, deciding that a subject change was in order. Connor considered it a small victory. "Who decided to put a shitty building directly next to one meant for rich people, anyway? That sounds like a robbery waiting to happen."

"Their security is... interesting. Can't get in unless you live there."

"That won't stop anyone from breaking in."

"It'd be a lot harder for them to get in. I think my neighbors would rather have some convenience.

The conversation continued on after that, discussing Connor's living situation. He wasn't defending the shithole he slept in, and even agreed when Hank said it was one of the worst

Markus wasn't brought up in conversation after that.

Markus...

What a lovely name.

_______

Connor got caught watching him paint. When Markus looked at him, he ducked in an attempt to hide himself, counting down 20 seconds.

But when he popped back up, just peeking out the window by now, he was still there.

He was friendly. Too friendly. He noticed him spying through the window and, instead of closing it, he opened up his curtains a little more and let him watch him paint from a distance. Who does that? Connor would never voice these thoughts, not wanting it to stop and not wanting to offend the painter, but they were still present in his mind. Watching him paint was strangely soothing, and even made him forget the temporary guilt that threatened to settle.

When Markus was done- presumably for the night, seeing that it looked to be a work in progress- he happily showed it off.

Connor gave a simple thumbs up, heart fluttering once again when Markus seemed pleased with his input