Chapter Text
Like always, TK appears unannounced. He stands in front of Carlos’ small apartment, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He ducks his head, avoids Carlos’ eyes, and mutters, “Hey. I’m tired. Can I lay down?”
And like always, Carlos steps back to let TK in, saying, “Of course.”
TK slips inside like a cat, heading for the couch.
It’s a familiar process. A pattern that has quietly developed over the last two weeks.
TK curls up on the couch and Carlos makes a cup of tea. He places it on a tray and adds a plate with two sandwiches.
Since he knows how uncomfortable TK is with having someone watch him eat, he puts the tray on the little table beside the couch and goes to his bedroom. He reads a book for a while. When he goes back to the living room, the tea and the food are gone.
TK is gone too.
Carlos stands in the doorframe and stares at the empty plate and the empty mug, wondering once again, how it could come this far.
He’s supposed to collect intel about a drug dealer ring. He’s not supposed to house a drug addict.
Every time this happens, Carlos tries to convince himself that he does it because TK has great intel. But deep inside, he knows exactly that this long stopped being only about intel.
Carlos both craves and already hates the day he’s going to finish this mission and return to his life, his reality. TK is going to hate him. And that thought hurts. It cuts deep. It shouldn’t, but it does. It cuts through flesh, bone, soul, and his heart.
He’s so screwed …
Two weeks ago
Carlos only needs a few seconds to come to the conclusion that Marco is a weasel.
The guy is smarmy and arrogant. He's obviously too much in love with himself and with his own voice. He talks and talks without a pause, making big gestures and smiling toothy shark smiles.
Carlos already regrets that he agreed to do this. But it’s too late to stop. He already is in way too deep.
He has never seen himself as an undercover cop. His friend Michelle said the same, her eyes full of worry when she heard about the plan. But his boss told Carlos he was the perfect guy for this. “People trust you,” she said. “People talk to you. Just try to gather as much intel as possible. You won’t have to do this forever. Marco is not a big crime boss. He’s just a snake, surrounded by more snakes. I’m way more interested in who he reports to. Because I sense there is more. Much more. Someone on top controls this system. And whoever they are, they are responsible for a record amount of deadly overdoses. So let’s find them and bring them to justice.”
Even though he was aware of the importance of this, Carlos was still reluctant, if not anxious about the prospect of going undercover. But then, his Dad heard about the mission and was hyped. In the end, Carlos guesses he agreed to it partly because he yearned for more of his father’s appreciation - which is rare, usually buried beneath layers Carlos hasn't yet uncovered - and also because his boss already counted on him. Carlos has always had trouble saying no.
He actually likes his cover. It's easy to play the role. He’s Rafael, a student of the law. He has a small apartment in the city. Rafael’s parents died long ago. He worked hard to get where he’s now, but he has no money and he is pretty desperate. Now he is searching for an easy opportunity to change that. From a few “friends” Rafael heard about the opioid crisis and how easy it was to deal with prescription drugs. He wants to try, but he’s still a bit timid and scared of the consequences.
So a “friend” - a fellow police officer from another station - will introduce Carlos to Marco, a very respected drug dealer in the neighborhood and an expert at “training” newbies.
Carlos hates Marco instantly and wishes the guy would stop talking. He also wishes they wouldn’t be talking in a club where the music is so loud, he has to try really hard to hear anything of what the dealer tells him, while his head is pounding and his ears are ringing.
Marco grins at him, raising his glass for yet another toast. Carlos tries to smile, clinking his glass against Marco’s. The guy is constantly wearing sunglasses. He also wears tight leather pants and a shirt that says “King of this town”. He looks ridiculous. Like a bad cliché.
But Carlos does his best not to show his aversion. Instead, he tries to come over as a bit nervous yet eager. He raises both brows when Marco tells him about the money he would earn and acts all surprised. He agrees to all the conditions - even though it's ridiculous how much money Marco would keep for himself. If he even keeps it for himself. Carlos' boss thinks there is a bigger fish after all. - and finally is led into an alleyway by Marco and two bulky men. They all look around carefully, making sure they are not watched.
Carlos is glad to be out of the club, finally able to breathe in some fresh air. He isn’t glad for long. His stomach sinks and his mind screams when Marco hands him the “goods”. Holy shit. Carlos stares, his heart pounding in his chest. It’s a ridiculous amount of opioids. So many pills. Whose life are they supposed to ruin?
“Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?” Marco asks, laughing. He lights a cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the night air. “You’ll be fine. With those big brown eyes, the cops won’t even look at you twice. You look perfectly innocent. I’m sure you’re going to be hella successful.”
Carlos wishes he could arrest Marco right here and now. Or punch him. He feels the urge to grab the man and shake him, ask him if he knows how many people are dead because of him. But instead, he hides the drugs under his jacket and nods at Marco, promising him he won’t be disappointed. The bottles seem to burn holes through his shirt, where they press against his skin. So much poison. He can't wait to get rid of it.
Marco grins at him. “I don't think I'm going to be disappointed. I have high hopes when I look at your puppy face. But you know nothing yet, Jon Snow. Just stay with me tonight, pretty boy. Watch and learn.”
Carlos winces. He doesn’t want to stay. He wants to leave and shake off the dirt of the alleyway, wants to get rid of the burning weight of the poison in his pockets. Watching Marco sell drugs to desperate people is the last thing he wants to do right now. But now that he started, he has to play the game. He has to stick to the rules.
So he stays, dutifully watching Marco do his "job".
Carlos is pretty sure a part of his soul dies every time an addict appears and he does nothing to prevent the transfer from happening. He just stands there, his hands curled into fists where they are hidden in the pockets of his jacket, knuckles brushing against pill bottles. Bloodshot eyes meet his briefly, shaky hands hand over a ridiculous amount of bills and hurriedly reach for the bottles Marco hands over in exchange - but not without a few cruel words. Carlos hates this. He wants it to stop. He already knows he’s never going to do this again.
When it’s almost 2 am, a man saunters toward them, the end of his cigarette glimmering red in the darkness. He steps into the dim light of a street lamp and Carlos’ breath hitches a little. Would he have been anywhere else, he wouldn’t waste the chance to talk, maybe flirt a little with this guy. Because he’s gorgeous. From his tousled auburn hair to his catlike eyes, that glance at Carlos curiously.
But Carlos is in an alleyway, surrounded by drug dealers and when he takes a closer look, he sees a face framed by too sharp edges, greyish skin, and tired eyes. He sees that the man is too thin and that his clothes have seen better days. He sees that it’s just another addict, another desperate figure stumbling through the night. Another ghost character in this book Carlos doesn’t want to appear in.
“Marco,” the guy says, blowing cigarette smoke to the side, looking Carlos up and down. “Is that a newbie?”
“TK,” Marco says, showing too many teeth. “Didn’t expect you here. I heard you are warming Bourbon’s bed.”
“Not anymore,” TK huffs, snipping his cigarette away. He reaches up to rub at a bruise on his jaw that looks quite fresh. Carlos notices that his fingers tremble slightly. “I got tired of his fucking moods. Do you have it?”
Marco’s grin widens. He nudges Carlos. “Your turn, newbie.”
Carlos freezes. He hoped he would be getting through the night without doing actual drug dealing. He stares between Marco and TK, his mind racing. But in the end, he realizes he just has to do what he’s been doing the whole time. He has to stick to the rules.
“What do you need?” He asks reluctantly.
TK raises a brow. He looks amused. “Wow, aren’t you a polite one? Cute. Oxy, if you’d please.”
Marco snickers.
Carlos rummages through the pill bottles, glancing at the labels. He hands over the right one. But before he can give it to TK, whose hand already twitches in his direction, hungry eyes set on the bottle, Marco’s hand shoots forward to grip Carlos’ wrist. “No, no,” he tuts. “You never hand out the goods before you receive payment, newbie. Didn’t you watch me?”
Carlos grits his teeth. He shakes Marco’s hand off and looks at TK expectantly. TK just stares at Marco. “Make it the usual.”
Marco’s voice is velvety when he says, “If you’re doing business with the newbie here, you’re also going to pay the newbie.”
TK rolls his eyes. “Fine. Right here?”
Carlos’ mind doesn’t catch up. He just looks between the two men, completely confused. Finally, TK sighs impatiently, invading Carlos' personal space and reaching for his belt buckle.
What the …
Horrified, Carlos takes a step back, raising his hands. “Wait. No. I … I don’t do this.” This goes too far. Way too far. He can’t have sex with an addict in exchange for drugs. He can't. Carlos can barely breathe. His heart is pounding against his ribcage. He can feel himself panicking. What the hell is he supposed to do now?!
Marco snickers again. TK stares at Carlos with an unreadable expression on his pale face.
“Aw, are you shy, newbie?” Marco taunts. “You don’t need to be nervous. TK is good with his mouth. He gives head like a fucking pornstar. Might pretty much be the only thing he’s good for.”
Carlos feels like the breath is punched out of his lungs. He glances at TK. The only indication that Marco’s crude words get to him is a twitch of his eye and the tension in his jaw. Carlos notices that there’s a fine layer of sweat on TK’s forehead and he’s trembling more now. Carlos realizes he’s trapped. He can’t get out of this. But he has to at least get away from Marco, who stares at him in a predatory way.
“Alright. Let’s go to my apartment,” he suggests, hoping that’s an option.
Marco grins at him and pats him on the back. “That’s it. You like it comfortable, eh. Enjoy the night, newbie. Take good care of my goods and my money.” There’s a clear warning in his voice.
Before he leaves, Marco also pats TK on the back and briefly runs his fingers through his hair, roughly pulling his head up by it so that TK is forced to look him in the eye. “And you take good care of my newbie,” Marco tells him. “I don’t want to hear any complaints, that clear?”
“Clear,” TK mutters.
Marco smiles his smarmy smile and leaves, sauntering away, whistling some broken melody.
Carlos exhales a breath he didn’t realize he held. He’s glad that he finally got rid of the drug dealer. But now he’s standing in a dirty alleyway with an addict in withdrawal. Great. Just great. This is a nightmare.
“So,” TK says, shifting his weight and bouncing his leg. “Where do you live, Mr. Nice Guy?”
“Stop,” Carlos says, pushing TK away.
As soon as he closed the door of the apartment, TK pounced, trying to kiss Carlos.
TK scrunches his nose in confusion but then lightens up in a second. “You don’t want to kiss? Fair enough. It's just that your lips look very kissable, you know?” He tries to sink to his knees. Carlos grimaces. “Please don’t. Listen … I don’t want to have sex with you, okay? In any way!”
“Why am I here then?” TK scoffs, his eyes filling with anger and humiliation. But underneath, there's also a hint of panic. The panic that he won't get what he needs. “You agreed to this. I … I don’t have any money.”
After admitting that, TK suddenly seems so much more vulnerable, looking everywhere but at Carlos, who feels more conflicted than ever. He bites his lip. What is he supposed to do now? He’s a cop. He can’t give drugs to an addict. It’s … It’s so wrong. God.
But TK is trembling on his doormat, eyes cast downward. He looks … desperate. Miserable. Sad. Without the dark cloak of the night, he’s just a skinny kid, obviously not older than Carlos. His shoes are missing their laces. His hoodie is riddled with holes and his hair is greasy.
“Are you going to make me beg?” TK eventually asks, his voice so quiet that Carlos barely catches the words and his eyes tearing up.
Carlos winces, feeling even more like an asshole now. “I … No. God. No. I’m sorry.”
TK glances at him, tilting his head to the side. “You’re weird,” he states. “Marco usually doesn’t train guys that are so … nice.”
Carlos swallows. It’s probably not a good thing that TK thinks he’s weird. He’s supposed to fit in, damnit. Everyone including him should have known he's not built for this. He sighs and reaches for his jacket, going through the bottles of pills again. He doesn’t miss the way TK’s head snaps up. The way his shiny eyes widen and his lower lip trembles. Carlos swallows down a wave of nausea. He can't believe what he's about to do. Everything inside him recoils and screams at him to stop. But it's too late.
Carlos hands a bottle of Oxy over and TK practically snaps it out of his hand. He opens the lid with trembling fingers, cursing when he fails a few times until he can finally shake some of the pills into his hand. He throws them into his mouth without a moment of hesitance, swallowing them dry. He closes the bottle and looks at Carlos suspiciously. “What do you want for them?”
“Nothing,” Carlos says quickly and knows immediately that’s the wrong answer.
TK stares at him incredulously, his fingers clutching the bottle tightly. “You’re kidding. Nothing ever comes free. Nothing. What do you want?”
Carlos’ mind works on autopilot. He has no idea what to do or say. What eventually comes out of his mouth is, “Your company.”
“My company,” TK echoes. He slumps, shaking his head. “Why would you want that. I have nothing to offer. Nothing but my mouth or my hands. I’m nothing. Why would you want to spend time with someone like me?”
Carlos’ heart aches. He wishes he could just tell the truth. But he can’t. Not yet. Not now. He tries to smile. “I’m lonely. I just want to talk to someone for a few hours.” That’s not even a lie … For a whole day and night, he’s been surrounded by horrible disgusting people. A friendly face would be a nice distraction. Though he feels an overwhelming amount of guilt for giving TK more poison. He shouldn't have done that. He already knows it's going to haunt him. Follow him into his dreams.
TK’s expression softens a bit. “Alright. You really are weird. And I have a feeling that you’re in the wrong business. But if that’s what you want …” He suddenly shivers a little. “Um, sorry, but could I lay down somewhere? Oxy’s going to kick in soon -”
“The couch,” Carlos says, gesturing at it. “I’m going to make tea, alright?”
TK is already stumbling toward the couch, dropping on it with a content sigh. “Yeah,” he breathes absently, staring up at the ceiling with hazy eyes that look like two forest ponds and fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. A smile slowly starts to spread on his face and the lines of worry on his forehead fade away. TK's whole body relaxes and Carlos realizes that he’s experiencing his high. His throat feels too tight. He turns away quickly and goes into the kitchen to make tea.
What a fucked up world this is …
Carlos is aware that he is making a huge mistake.
This could expose him. He’s giving away too much. Because talking to TK is easy. It feels nice.
At least, TK seems to know a lot about Marco and the drug dealer ring around him. Carlos listens closely, making mental notes. Later, he is going to write down what he learns. Hopefully, it's going to help him to finish this mission. He's already on the edge. After not even two days.
TK drinks his berry tea and stares at the mug in his hands, shaking his head. “No one has ever been this nice to me," he mumbles. "Not since … Ah. Forget it.”
“You can tell me if you want,” Carlos offers, taking a sip of his own tea.
TK shrugs. “There’s not much to tell. I fucked up. Lost my job, my family, my boyfriend. Everything. Sometimes, I wonder why I’m even still here. It would be so easy … Just a few more pills than usual. Would be peaceful. But I guess I'm too scared.” He huffs, leaning his head back on the headrest and staring up at the ceiling with his bloodshot eyes. “Don’t know why. It’s not like anyone would care.”
Carlos feels like he can’t breathe. “I would care.”
TK winces and looks at him. “Why? You don’t know me. I’m just some addict. You’re a wannabe dealer.”
Carlos almost tells him then. Almost. But he catches himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, but only because I’m desperate. I have no parents. And no idea how I’m supposed to pay the next rent. I tried to get a job, but it didn’t work. This is just an experiment. I don’t know if I even really want to keep doing it …”
TK leans forward all of a sudden, staring at him intently. There’s fear in his eyes now. And … worry. “Rafael, you seem to have no idea what you stepped into. Marco is dangerous. The people he works with are dangerous. You don’t get to try this out and leave if you don’t like it. That’s not how this works. I …” He stops, shaking his head. “I already said too much. Look, just be careful. You’re a nice guy. Too nice. I think you made a horrible mistake. Just like me. But now you have to go through with it. Just like I have to chase my next high. That’s who I am now. Life’s not some fairytale. There’s no such thing as a happy ending. Not for me. Maybe for you, but not if you cross someone like Marco. Whatever, thank you for the tea and … and for being kind. It doesn’t happen often that I feel like someone doesn’t look down on me for who and what I am. But it’s better if we don’t see each other again.”
With that, he places his mug on the table, gets up and hurries to leave the apartment. Carlos remains sitting, frozen. Stunned.
God. What did he get himself into?
TK doesn’t show up the next few nights.
Carlos misses him. He knows he shouldn't. But he does. He thinks back to TK's eyes and wishes he could do something to soothe the pain in them.
Of course, Marco teases Carlos as soon as they meet again, asking him if TK was a good boy and if he was a good fuck. Carlos has to hold himself back. He really wants to punch this guy. Wants to punch all the disgusting words out of him and teach him that TK is not worthless only because he's an addict. He still deserves respect and human decency. But Carlos knows he can't do that. Instead, he nods and laughs and plays Marco’s game. He hands the drug dealer the bills he received from the police department and Marco whistles, pats his back, and calls him golden boy. "I knew you're a natural!" He laughs and Carlos forces a smile on his face, while he paints a pretty picture in his mind: Marco, being pushed into a police car, his hands cuffed and his arrogant smile replaced by a grimace of rage and disbelief. It's a very pleasing picture.
When he's alone in his apartment, Carlos passes on what he knows to his boss, hoping he can bring this to an end as soon as possible. He also thinks a lot about how he could help TK. A part of him fears that it might be already too late for that. Fears that TK might be the next body found in an alleyway. TK's words about ending his life echo in Carlos' head in a cruel endless loop and he despairs, hating how helpless he feels.
He’s surprised but also relieved, when TK shows up on his doorstep one day, asking if he can take a nap at Carlos’ apartment. He looks even more miserable than the last time they've met. He's barely able to keep his eyes open. There’s a purple bruise blooming on the side of his face. But he's alive. He's not in withdrawal, so he apparently gets his drugs somewhere else. Carlos doesn't really want to think about that.
He hands TK a frozen pack of peas for it, makes tea, and puts two sandwiches on a plate.
TK wolfs the food down and falls asleep for a few hours, curled up into a ball, his arms wrapped around his thin frame.
Carlos watches him and wonders where TK sleeps normally. On the streets? God. It’s already freezing outside, even though it’s not autumn yet. Carlos turns the radiator on and carefully covers TK with a blanket. He goes to clean the kitchen.
When he returns to the living room, TK is gone.
Carlos curses himself for the hint of disappointment he feels. What he and TK have ... It's not something that fits into his reality. He should just accept that. Why can't he?
Carlos listens, hidden behind some garbage bins, as Marco talks to someone on the phone. This seems to be important. Marco isn’t his usual arrogant self. Instead, he’s a bit pale. He nods a lot and doesn’t say much.
“Yes,” he eventually says, clutching the phone. “I understand. I’ll have it ready. You can trust me. Saturday. Docks. Yeah. I know.”
Saturday. Docks. Carlos writes it into his notebook. He has to find out what’s going on. Has to find out what’s going to happen on Saturday.
Maybe, this is a chance to find out, who Marco works for. A chance to bring his mission to an end.
He carefully walks away, keeping an eye on Marco, who hasn’t noticed him - only to bump into someone. Carlos freezes and turns around. He meets TK’s confused eyes. They flick over Carlos’ face, to Marco in the distance, then down to the notebook, Carlos is clutching in his hands.
Carlos can literally see how TK puts two and two together in his head. He reacts without thinking. When TK’s eyes widen and he is about to say something, Carlos quickly wraps an arm around TK’s chest and presses a hand on TK’s mouth, keeping him from saying anything. “Don’t,” he whispers, watching nervously as Marco walks away with one of his bulky friends. He didn’t notice anything. Fortunately.
He lets TK go, who stumbles away from him, his eyes still wide and disbelieving. “You … Are you a cop?!”
“Undercover,” Carlos says. He swallows. “I’m sorry.”
TK stares at him. Pain fills his eyes. Mingles with rage. “So that was why you wanted to talk to me,” he says, nodding to himself. “That was why you acted as if you care. You wanted information. That’s all you wanted! You used me ...”
“TK,” Carlos starts and reaches out for the other guy. “I really do care. That wasn’t a lie. I can help you. Please let me -”
“No,” TK says, backing away wide-eyed and shaking. “Don’t. Stay away from me!”
Carlos can only watch as TK turns away and runs. His chest clenches. Feels like it’s being torn apart …
So much pain.
Carlos hides his face in his hands. He wishes he’d never agreed to this.