The precinct's annual party wasn’t anything extravagant. just a rented hall, soft music, a handful of detectives in shirts slightly more ironed than usual, and a table full of catered food no one really touched. It was more of a tradition than an actual celebration, a moment to breathe after months of chasing down leads and writing endless reports.

You spotted Hueningkai standing near the far wall, half in shadow, a glass of red wine cradled in his hand. he wasn’t really the “party” type. more like the type who came out of politeness and stayed because someone he liked was still around. you walked over, and his eyes flicked up, instantly softening when they landed on you.

“Hey,” he said with a small smile. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

You smirked. “Says the guy hiding in the corner.”

He laughed quietly, brushing his thumb against the glass.“Touché.”

The conversation drifted into familiar territory—shared cases, annoying coworkers, dumb things the new rookies did. there was something so easy about it, like breathing in a room full of noise. but then, Hueningkai’s gaze dropped to his wine. he swirled it slowly, watching the deep red spin. his fingers tensed a little.

“I, um…” he started, his voice quieter now. “I’ve been meaning to say something.”

You turned to face him, he let out a breath, chuckling nervously. “I don’t know if this is the best time… or the smartest thing to do, but…” he finally looked up, eyes meeting yours with a kind of quiet bravery.

“Maybe… sometime… if you’re okay with it,” he said, his words careful but sincere, “I could ask you out. just me and you. no precinct. no party. just… us.”

There was a pause. soft music continued in the background. laughter from across the room echoed faintly. but between you and him—it felt quiet. delicate. hopeful.