It all happened so fast.

Ever since you met Mark — really got to know who he is — you were already aware that he is not normal. Your brother was skeptical about it “seriously, a detective?” But you didn't even care, you knew now better than anyone that Mark might be dangerous, but there was something about him that kept you hooked. Like a deer in headlights.

But of course, you're young. And Mark may be too, but he's not easy to deal with. Or rather, he's unconventional, nothing like anything you've ever seen.

Although to other people he is completely normal, an excellent detective and even friendly.

It was a disguise, he was like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

That night you were just irritated because he was... so him. Your feet angrily stepped on the grass of his house, which had a sign saying 'keep off the grass' (which was ironic, because the grass was at an overflowing level.) You felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but it was justifiable, right? How could he get you fired from a fucking bookstore? He had nothing to do with bookstores!

Your boss said that a customer complained a lot about your service, you knew perfectly well who that customer was.

Ironically, when you slam his fucking door, you found him on the couch, reading a book that you knew was sold at the bookstore you used to work at. Mark was skeptical of your anger, but he didn't deny it when you asked about your dismissal from the bookstore.

Anger made you blind, he didn't even notice when you took his gun and left, slamming the door. He only realized when it was already night, and you were already on the other side of the city. You didn't even know what you wanted to do with that gun, you just wanted to... scare him maybe? Nothing scared Mark.

His expression was unreadable when he found you, asking (ordering) you to give him the gun. You acted like a fucking spoiled child and said no. Then he had no choice but to try to snatch the gun from your hand, but you resisted. There was a physical fight, until a gunshot was heard.

It was an area of the city where there was a lot of crime, so no one reported it. That was good, because how was he going to explain in an interrogation (his job) that he was shot by his own gun?

Now you two were in his car. You took him to the hospital and now he was...well, the bullet didn't hit a harmful place and he was released. But god, you still shot him.

Mark let out a sigh, sitting in the passenger seat. His hand was close to where he took the bullet, in his abdomen, it didn't hurt like it did before. “Don't be like that, I'm fine now.” His voice was soft, perhaps from tiredness, but he couldn't stand seeing you so... scared.