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yutahoes · 3 years

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Roses and Blood

pairing: private detective! Yuta Nakamoto x journalist! Y/N

word count: 4.4k words

genre: angst, a bit of smut, NOIR

summary : A high-profile cheating case just become a murder case. And the center of it all is the detective himself.

warnings : death, murder, blood, cigarettes, alcohol, sexual themes (masturbation) but not detailed, abuse, mentions of cheating, mentions of torture

This is my attempt to write a Noir AU, I’m not a fan of detective movies or this genre so this is the best that I can make up. This is heavily inspired by Secret’s Poison MV. 😁

taglist: @dimplehyunn @nominsgirl @jaesqueso @ahsshilee-me @readers-posts @justpeachygirl

written for Neo-City Noir Collab Call by @suh-insane

An extra cube of sugar in my cup of coffee. The only thing that changed in my everyday routine. The everyday bustling and hustling of the street outside didn’t change a bit. A typical day.

The calmness of the office was disturbed when the door opened. A strong scent of woman’s perfume hitting my nose. Roses. She smelled like roses.

The woman removed her coat, revealing a red button-down blouse hugging her figure. Blood. She reminds me of blood. A woman who might bring trouble.

Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office and she slumped on the chair before I could remove my eyes from her. “I need your help.” She started, crossing her legs. “Detective Nakamoto.”

I leaned in on the table to assess her. An unreadable expression. She might be used to this. She took an envelope from her white handbag, sliding it on the table in front of me. "This is the file for Senator Hall." I opened the envelope which revealed a detailed copy of the said senator's information. "There had been threats to his life and I wanted to ask your help in finding who the mystery sender is."

There are different sized papers inside the envelope, letters cut from magazines that contain messages of threats. “Are you and the senator…?” Her lips curled up even before I could finish my sentence.

She handed a card, slipping it on the table. “I’m Y/N, Senator Hall’s publicist.” True enough, the card says that she is a journalist. “There are talks about how good you are, considering you found the mistress of Otto Holding’s chairman.” My jaw clenched. It’s not my best work but why did I get famous because of that? “Can I assure your help, Detective?”

I nodded with a smirk. She knew the business. Interesting. The woman placed the briefcase on the table, “This is just the first payment.” A briefcase full of money? This is serious business. She placed a gold-colored card above the briefcase with the letters ‘Fantasia’ written on it. “The senator usually comes to this club. He often gets the letters in this place.”

Fantasia? It’s a new high-end club that just opened for VIPs. This just narrowed down the list of potential suspects. They can either be VIPs or someone working in that club.

“I trust that you do your job discreetly,” She leaned on the table and I found myself staring at the low cut of her red blouse. “Mr. Yuta Nakamoto.” The way my name rolled on her tongue sent shivers down my spine. And as she left the office, her heels clicking on the floor, I was left with the scent of roses and an unhealthy amount of attraction for the senator’s publicist.

My fingers fiddled with the business card she handed.

Miss Y/N.

Trouble.

Will I get to see her again?

Fantasia is so posh, so high class, that security is so tight. It runs in an invite-only policy, the golden card that Miss Y/N handed. But even if you had the said invite, you needed to give them your personal information. Nothing bad will surely happen here.

The inside was not anything I imagined. The smell of alcohol and the blinding lights are the first thing noticeable inside, followed by jazz music playing. Girls in promiscuous clothes were serving drinks as another girl with flashy red clothes was singing on the stage. The color of rose and blood. And I was reminded of Ms. Y/N once again.

Senator. I’m here for a task.

After getting my drink from the bartender, I searched for a place where I could sit and surveyed the place. Before I approached a corner seat, I spotted the man I should be eyeing, seated on a velvet couch and staring at the girl on the stage. Based on the files, he has a wife and she’s very wealthy. Is this another case of a cheating husband? Then this case will be solved immediately.

The girl in the red dress singing earlier made her way to the crowd, stopping in front of the senator before giving him a smile and a wink. A smirk escaped my lips, case closed. I've been in this work for so long to know that his wife is giving him threats for having a girlfriend. A cliché love story.

The task was done even before I could begin so I drank a little to celebrate my small victory. Although the drink is expensive, I deserved this.

I'm busy minding my drink when the seat beside me gets occupied. "Hi." The same girl in the red dress singing on stage earlier. The senator's lover. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Does she keep track of the people here? "Want me to show you a good time?" What? But before I could say anything, she lightly pushed up her skirt to show me her thigh. What the hell is this club?

I turned around from her, facing the female bartender who was wiping the counter, and drank the contents of my glass in one gulp. I have to get out of here. The girl held my chest and I hastily stood up, feeling my head throbbed. What is happening to me? I felt my legs lose their strength as my stomach grumbled, sour liquid creeping up in my throat.

Immediately, I ran to the men's toilet to vomit everything in my stomach. The sour and bitter taste coming out of my mouth. Where did this come from? Is it the expensive drink? Am I not allowed to drink expensive scotch? Luxury life isn't really for me.

The moment I went out, wiping my mouth with my handkerchief, a surprise overtook me. A body was lying on the floor, a pool of blood by my feet. Turning it, I stumbled on my feet to see the senator as pale as a ghost. What the hell? I kneeled on the bloody floor, pumping his chest to at least save him but it's too late. He already lost a lot of blood. Shit, this is bad.

A stray bullet can be seen on the side of his body next to something glistening. An earring. Gold flower earring. The lingering smell of cigarettes, mint cigarettes. Before I could stand, the door opened followed by a scream of terror. This is really bad.

The door closed. I had to save myself. Even if it is the most questionable thing, I jumped out of the window and ran for my life. My hands were still bloody as well as my coat, the earring in my coat pocket. This is a first. What will happen to me now? There's only one person who saw me. They can't actually remember me, right?

It must be the distress, the lightheaded feeling of panic. A blinding car light made me stop in my tracks. This might be my death. I should have bought the fanciest drink there is.

"Detective Nakamoto?" Then the voice of an angel. I might be dead. "Are you alright?" The angel appears to wear a red shirt. The color of blood. Death. "What happened to you?" Her flesh feels warm, she's alive.

It is the distress, the panic, that I cling to her arm. The police sirens could be heard and I begged for her to take me out of the place.

The evening lights were blinding as she drove. Destination, unknown. Her phone rang and she accepted the call, Mrs. Hall. "My husband is dead." She stepped on the brakes immediately, putting her phone on handset before glancing at me.

I didn't hear what they were talking about but her stare at me got me ideas. She might have found out that I'm in the same club as him. When she put down the call, she only stared at me. "You killed him?"

"What? Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing my bloody coat. "I swear I didn't. I saw him lying in his own blood when I left the restroom stall."

"Someone saw you." She opened the radio of her car, "And now, they're looking for you." The voice from the radio was talking about how the senator was found dead in the jazz club and that they're looking for a man in a coat. I hastily removed my coat, throwing it on the backseat of the car.

She laughed at that. "You think that's all, detective?" She showed her phone, a picture of me taken earlier in the club with a wanted sign on top. Shit! "I asked you to find who tried to kill him, not kill him."

"I swear I didn't," I shouted, putting my hands up. "I don't even own a gun and he was shot." I tried to think of other things I noticed at the scene of the crime. Come on Yuta, think. "It smells like cigarettes and I don't smoke."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "But why are you there?"

"You asked me to come there."

"I mean the restroom." She rolled her eyes. "If he was shot, why didn't you hear the gunfire? Why didn't you ask for help?"

I closed my eyes in frustration. Journalists really are inquisitive. "I was vomiting my drink and I don't know, I panicked. I thought I could save him." She started the car without a word and I just sat there, looking outside to see where we were going.

What will happen to me now? A wanted man. I can't return to my original life. Why am I in this mess? "I'm sorry. I believe you. I asked you for help and you were just trying to do your job." I nodded. At least she understands. "But for now, everyone knows you so I'll help you hide then maybe we can clear your name."

I have nothing to do but trust her. I need to clear my name. Why is my brain so blank now?

We stopped at a gas station to get some food. I’m pretty famished after vomiting everything but the moment I stepped inside the store, the news of the senator can be heard followed by a description of the person who killed him. The attendant stared at me before Y/N took his attention. This is bad.

Hastily, I made a beeline outside after cleaning my hands off the blood. Y/N is already outside with a lollipop in her mouth, leaning by her car. “I borrowed some clothes.” She should have said that when I was inside but where did she get those clothes? “You can change inside the car.”

Here? In the open? But she was already opening the door for me. The clothes were on the backseat of her car, a black shirt and jogger pants. And it’s better than having my bloody clothes so even if the shirt is a little tight, pants shorter, I have to wear this.

She eyed me from head to toe and for the first time, I felt exposed. A raise of an eyebrow followed by the lollipop removed from her mouth with a popping sound. "Do you have any place you can go?" Is there? They're probably at my apartment address by now. The police might be in my office. I shook my head and she smirked, gesturing to the car.

The city buildings are now gone, replaced by endless empty landscapes. It was a long drive. The news from the radio was replaced by jazz music, her phone kept ringing but she didn't mind it all. A blinding light changed the overall aura of the surroundings as she made a sharp turn heading to what seems like a motel. Why here of all places? It looks like a rundown. Is someone still living here?

I followed her to what seems like an endless hallway, the smell of cigarettes and weed in the air as the sounds of grunting and bed squeaking can be heard. She inserted a key on the last door to the right, opening it and switching the lights on. “Stay here for a while.” She whispered before casually entering the room. It smelled like roses. Her scent.

“Do you live here?” She shook her head, handing me a bottle of beer. Then why does she look so comfortable here? She removed her coat and casually throwing it to the couch in the middle of the room. Her arms filled with bruises and scars. “What happened?”

She shrugged, disappearing to another door and I took time to look around. A large window covered with dark curtains, bottles of beer on the floor under the table. I even saw underwear which made me immediately turn around. There was a sound of murmuring from inside the room, she might be on a call with someone.

I took my phone out of my coat pocket which revealed countless calls and even messages asking where I was. In annoyance, I just closed my phone and return it to the pocket where my fingers grazed at something sharp. The earring. The gold flower earring. It’s a woman.

“A woman killed him.” I immediately told Y/N when she went out of the room. “I’m certain of that.” She glanced at me in question. “Maybe his wife.”

“Mrs. Hall? She’s so kind.” She claimed. “Why would she do that?”

“Because he’s seeing someone else.” The statement obviously came as a surprise to her. Doesn’t she know? “Senator Hall is seeing another girl in that jazz club.” Her eyebrows were scrunched to focus on my words. Then it came. That girl. She was beside me before I took a shot of my drink. She might have put something in my drink. She listened as I narrate everything to her, no one can help me with this shithole but her. I need to clear my name and find who really killed the senator.

She bit her lip. “Do you really think she did it? The jazz singer?” I nodded. It’s only her or his wife. “I’m meeting Mrs. Hall tomorrow. I’ll try and look at this.” She rolled her eyes. “This is supposed to be your job.” I apologized. It really is. But my hands are tied now. I can’t do anything.

The death was all over the news. My face plastered on every newspaper and wanted poster. How quick are they to assume that I killed the senator? Should I just come clean and tell them that I don’t have a gun? That I don’t smoke?

With nothing to do, I laundry my bloody clothes and some of Y/N’s things. Lightly tidying up her motel room. Why would a girl like her live in a place like this?

And as I reached out from under the couch, I found out exactly why.

It’s almost midnight yet she isn’t back. Maybe she isn’t coming here tonight. So I settled to bed, removing the dirty shirt I have been wearing the whole day. The incessant pounding of the bed on the wall from the other room only made me annoyed and, well, disturbed. I can’t fucking sleep. The moans got louder, mattress squeaking that made it unable for me to focus on just sleeping. Fuck! I’m very well disturbed.

My hand slipped inside my pants, finger tracing the outline of my member while thinking of a certain girl in red lace underwear. Hand wrapped around the hard rod, I started stroking while creating soft moans along with the sound of sex next door. “Y/N,” I whispered and a gasp can be heard that made me open my eyes. She’s in the doorway, looking at me in surprise. Fuck! Immediately, I removed my hand from my pants then stood up from the bed that made me light-headed. “It’s not what it looked like. I…”

“Yuta,” she called. A sound that rang like a melody in my ears. There were tears in her eyes, a bruised lip, and a cut on her cheek. The reason why she’s staying in this motel room. Why that ring is under the couch. “I don’t want to come back to him anymore.” She choked on her tears.

Y/N’s cries got louder as I wrap my arms around her. “Then don’t come back to him,” I whispered. How long was this? Why isn’t she speaking up about this? Why is she hiding here? “I’ll protect you, Y/N.”

She stared right into my eyes. And I knew that very moment I shouldn't have let myself be taken by her good looks and smell. I realized that she was the kind of trouble I was looking for. The kind that would give my life a sense of purpose.

My hunches might be right seeing how there are bruises and scars all over her skin. How can a confident girl be this fucked up? Now, I have more reasons to clear my name. "When everything clears up, stay with me." I whispered then kissed her bare shoulder. My lips went to hers, gently kissing the bruises and cuts in her skin as if I could erase them. My arms trying to give her the warmth she needed.

When I woke up, she was nowhere in sight. Her car wasn’t outside as well, she must be off to work. The news is different now, something about the stocks dropping and the murder of another man in town. Maybe I can come outside now. But where should I go? There isn’t any diner or restaurant near the motel, even a store where I can buy food. I’ll have to wait for her to come home and wish that she brought food.

Luckily, Y/N did. Sushi. Along with the take-out foods is an envelope that contains papers inside. A picture is inside the brown file, the girl from the jazz club. “Is she the one you’re talking about?” I nodded. Although her clothes are different and with a lesser make-up on, she’s obviously that girl. There were details about her, her name and her address. “Do you think she killed the senator?”

“Why would she drug me if not?”

“That’s not enough evidence, Yuta.” She’s right. It really isn’t enough evidence to name her the suspect. Shit! Is there anything I can do to clear my name? “I’ll try and watch her, maybe I can get some answers.”

I moved closer to her, holding her in my arms. If we’re going to clear my name, she wouldn’t be doing this alone. She’s been through a lot. “I’ll come with you.” When she kissed my lips, I already knew her answer.

She was exactly that girl in the bar. My eyes can’t fool me. It’s a high possibility that she is the killer now that we’re watching her smoke a cigarette. All we need to do is get her alibi and see if she has a gun. But I'm positive that she is the killer. Why would she put poison in my drink? Why me?

Is it to frame me? She doesn't know me. Is it obvious that I'm a detective at first glance? Which came to my first question, why me?

That question still lingered in my mind. It's been a week since we saw the girl. Y/N would always leave in the morning and come back each night with new information about the Senator's case. She had been working closely with the lawyers and the police about the case, updating me of recent findings. "Can I come out now? Tell the police everything I know about the case?" I asked while brushing her hair, her head laying on my arm. "I have enough evidence."

"Evidence?"

"An earring," I whispered and she jolted to sit, looking at me surprised. "I saw an earring at the scene of the crime."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She picked up her discarded clothes in a hurry. Why? What’s wrong? But before I could ask anything, she had already left.

The news of the senator’s death was once again on the headlines but this time, my face isn’t the one flashing but the jazz singer’s as the suspect. She admitted to the crime, saying that she had been threatening the senator since he promised that he’ll buy her out of the club. Fantasia club is now under a lot of criticism for prostitution and the unethical labor of the workers. A gun with a silencer was found in her possession, the weapon used for the crime.

My picture flashed on the screen, not as a suspect, but as the detective who solved all of this.

There’s only one thing to do now. Go back to my normal life.

Journalists all came to the office and asked me a lot of questions. The newspaper was filled with pictures of me, claiming that I’m the best detective in town and the phone kept ringing endlessly in the office. I smiled, it hadn’t been a typical day even if I didn’t put an extra cube of sugar in my coffee.

I was on a call with a journalist from the local newspaper when two uniformed personnel came inside my office. “Detective Nakamoto, we need your help.” And I knew, this is something serious.

Maybe it already happened two times. I have been to this place before. Thrice. I have been here thrice. The mansion of the Chairman of Otto Holdings. It was his wife who asked me to come here before. Now, the reason was him.

The officials informed me about the corpse, stabbed in the stomach then shot in the head. The killer wants him dead, I’m sure of that. I saw him a couple of times before and he is a tall man. If someone were to kill him by stabbing his stomach, that person might be close to him. Who would do this? His wife? But she’s already living abroad. His lover perhaps? Someone working for him?

“Reports said that he’s here with his daughter. We’re trying to locate her.” He had a daughter? They showed a plastic bag with the pieces of evidence found at the crime scene: strands of long hair, cigarette butt, a bullet. Familiar shreds of evidence.

They let me look around his office, the place polished in cleanliness except for little splotches of blood on the carpet. Old marks of blood. On one side of the wall were torture devices: floggers, leather whips, handcuffs, and wooden cane. Either he’s into serious sexual acts or he’s just a demon who loves torture.

A picture hanging on the wall took my attention. A happy family. The young-looking chairman was standing behind his estranged wife who looked really happy and youthful. On her lap is a young girl with such angelic features. Bright shining eyes. Then a familiar thing caught my attention.

The gold flower earring was shining on my hand. The same earring the little girl is wearing in the picture. Why do I feel like I’ve been chasing the wrong suspect all along? I drank some beer, seated by the edge of my desk when the door opened. Before I could tell that the office was closed for the day, a strong scent of a woman’s perfume hit my nose. Roses. The familiar smell of roses. Y/N.

She removed the black coat she had on, revealing a red wrap-around dress that shows some skin below her neckline and stops midthigh. Her hair has gotten shorter since the last time I saw her. Lips deep red. Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office. A sheer lace thigh-high stocking completed her look.

Her hand slipped on my neck, leaning close to whisper in my ear “Long time no see, hotshot.” My heart beating wildly against my chest. Her smell. That addicting smell. Her lips went to mine. Her taste. A deadly combination of alcohol, cigarette, and mint. “I missed you, Yuta.” She whispered in that erotic voice, fingers heading south my shirt.

I took the glass of alcohol to relieve the parching of my throat, finishing the contents before holding her by the waist. “It’s you, isn’t it?” A smirk escaped her lips. “You killed the chairman.” I should have been aware the moment it smelled like roses in the chairman’s house. “You’re his daughter.” The same eyes as the girl in the picture. “Why…?”

My chest suddenly felt tight. Like someone just punched my heart. I gasped for air. Mouth burning as if on fire. She just sat on the chair, crossing her legs while watching me. “Because he promised mom that he’ll take care of me.” She flexed her fingers, checking her nails. “I hate people who don’t fulfill their promises.”

Promises. The same thing the jazz singer said about the senator. “You…” I coughed blood. “You also killed the senator.” It makes sense now. She came to me. She wanted me there. She pretended to help me. The earring. Her reaction. The taste of mint and cigarettes. “Why? Why me?” My legs feel numb that I fell on the floor.

“Isn’t it your fault why mom left my dad? Why I’m in hell because of him?” It wasn’t a husband. It was her dad. He really is a monster. “Think of this as a little gift. You’ve became famous. Everyone will know that you died.” Her fingers glide on the edge of the desk, placing a small white pill beside the glass. “They just wouldn’t know how.”

I called for her name but she just stared at me with an evil look in her eyes. “I sincerely liked you, Yuta. I even believed that we could be together.”

“We can.” But every word felt like a thorn in my chest. “I love you.”

The corner of her lips curled up, kneeling beside me. “But you’re also like them. Promising things and not actually doing it.” I grasp her arm, words not coming out of my mouth. She took her phone. “Mrs. Hall, the work is done.” She stared right into me with cold eyes. “Detective Nakamoto is gone.”

Her lips were as red as rose as she smirked at me. Her dress, red. The color of blood.

The memory of when I first saw her came to me. The same smell of roses. The gold flower earrings on her ears. The same color as blood telling me that she’s bad news.

I should have listened.

But it’s too late.

She is indeed trouble.

The kind of trouble that will be the death of me.

Like a sweet poison. She’s a poison. Addicting. Deadly.

And then everything went black.

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