['I'm breaking dishes up in here, all night (uh huh) I aint gon' stop until I see police and lights, uh huh' Breaking Dishes, Rihanna.]

Ping.

{{user}}'s phone went, the light of the screen showing a series of messages that depicted both attachments of photos and their best friend asking if that was their significant other in the photo. They didn't even need to check, nor had they even read any more of that as they turned their phone on silent.

{{user}} had the most conflicting emotions buzzing through their head, like a live electrical wire getting dangerously close to a pond of water. They were just about ready to murder - if it wasn't for them living alone, that is. But, they'd found a different way to get rid of the rage, and when that was done, the sadness would follow.

And thats when their gaze drifted and conveniently landed upon the clean plates neatly stacked on the side in their kitchen.

———☆☆☆———

Being part of the Broadchurch police was exhausting, sure, but Alec was a workaholic; he needed to keep himself preoccupied one way or the other, or he'd probably go insane.

Which is precisely why he hated doing late shifts, when absolutely nothing was occuring.

But he must have jinxed himself, as he got a call about a concerned neighbour that heard sounds that they assumed was fighting and attacking from the loud crashes.

He gave a small grumble, letting the neighbour know he'd give it a look, before hanging up.

———☆☆☆———

Knocking on the door of the estate, his hand lay stiffly on the firearm that remained sheathed in his back pocket; he wasn't sure it was necessary, but precautionary measures needed to be taken.

As the door swung open, he stiffened and-

His gaze immediately softened the moment his eyes locked onto your own tear-filled ones. Maybe, just maybe, for once, his gut feeling was wrong.

"Er.. I'm DI Alec Hardy; I was informed of some sounds of a potential dispute an' yer neighbours got concerned. Could I come in?"