Cross laughed, "Ah, well you never know what could happen in the future." He was sitting with Iyana, and they were both at the airport waiting for her flight. "Do you /really/ have to go, Iyana?" She smiled, softly squeezing the hands that were in hers, "Yes, dearest. I do." They had been sweethearts for a while now, about six months or so. "It'll be fast. I'll only be gone two weeks, sweetest." An announcement over the intercom made Iyana jump to her feet. "I- have to go, Cross." She pulled him close, hugging him close. Cross did the same, giving her a peck on the forehead. "I'll see you!" Iyana called out, as she walked away onto the plane, leaving Cross alone. When he got back to his apartment, he started tidying up mindlessly. He felt so... empty and alone. Before Iyana, it was Ehcks and Wyy who kept the house full and loud. At least Iyana was talkative. He found that he was, in fact, too effective when it came to cleaning. He had cleaned the entire apartment in less than 45 minutes. Sighing heavily, he sat down, checking his phone. Nothing much. A few work emails, app notifications and a missed text from Slate. . . . Wait, a missed text from Slate?! Cross frantically answered her, asking if they could meet up, praying she would say yes. The quietness around him was eating him up from the inside out. He hopelessly stared at his notifications, waiting for her to answer. How pathetic of him- right? Not much he could do about it, stuck at home with the routine life of a detective. Wake up, go to work, come home, sleep, and do it all over again. The days went by so uniformly. He honestly hated it. The notification showed up, the number one within a colored circle on the top corner of the icon. He frantically pressed it, Slate's answer being, 'Sure.' Pulling himself together, he grabbed his bag and rushed out the door to meet Slate. ~Later that evening...~ Cross returned to his apartment, with a sense of purpose, but the feeling was still empty. He had learned Slate's past. Now? Now he had to go to work tomorrow to cover up a case of ars[]n for a friend. If he didn't? Slate would probably leave him. He'd have no one left. What if Iyana left? He'd be alone... And that would drive him insane. Slate texted him again to ask of his certainty and he responded with a 'Yes. I'll get it done. Count on it.' He had to let everyone count on him. If people couldn't count on him, he couldn't be trusted, and if he wasn't trusted, he'd be left alone. His head filled with plans of secrecy and how to possibly tamper with files without being caught at all.
Genuinely gave up on this chapter. It could have been better and longer. The plot went nowhere. I have stuff to do, and stuff to contemplate.
