Chapter 5
The investigation room had become a pressure cooker.
SMG4 stood at the whiteboard, marker in hand, trying to map out the timeline of the break-in while his mind kept drifting to the way SMG3's fingers had felt tangled in his hair just hours ago. The marker squeaked against the board, the sound grating and too loud in the tense silence.
"So the security footage cuts out at 2:47 AM," Meggy said, arms crossed as she studied the laptop screen. "That's too clean to be a coincidence. Whoever did this knew our system."
"Or had help from someone who does," Luigi added nervously, wringing his hands.
SMG3 was pacing near the window, his movements sharp and agitated, like a caged animal. Every few seconds, his eyes would flick to SMG4, then away, a dance of stolen glances that felt both necessary and dangerous. SMG4 could feel the phantom weight of those looks, could sense the unspoken words hovering between them like smoke.
"We should check the employee access logs," SMG4 said, forcing his attention back to the board. "See who was in the building in the past week."
"Already did," Bob interjected, scrolling through his phone. "Nothing suspicious. Everyone who had access has been with us for years."
"Then it's someone we trust," SMG3 said quietly, and the words hung in the air like an accusation. His eyes met SMG4's again, and this time, there was something raw in them—guilt, maybe, or fear. Because they were lying too, weren't they? Keeping secrets from the people who trusted them most.
Tari had been silent throughout the discussion, sitting in the corner with her duck plushie clutched to her chest, but SMG4 could feel her watching. She had that look—the one that meant she was processing, analyzing, putting together pieces that others missed.
"I need some air," SMG4 announced abruptly, the walls suddenly feeling too close. He didn't wait for a response before heading out into the hallway, his heart hammering against his ribs.
He made it three steps before he heard footsteps behind him.
"SMG4, wait."
Tari's voice was soft, but it stopped him cold. He turned to find her standing there, her expression gentle but determined, and he knew—he knew—that she'd seen something.
"Tari, I really need to—"
"You're lying," she said simply, and the words were like a punch to the gut. "About where you were. About what's going on. I can tell."
SMG4's mouth went dry. "I don't know what you—"
"Please don't," Tari interrupted, stepping closer. Her eyes were kind, but there was steel beneath the softness. "I'm not stupid, and I'm not blind. Something happened between you and SMG3. Something big. And you're both terrified that we'll find out."
The denial died on his lips. He couldn't lie to her, not when she was looking at him like that, with understanding and concern warring in her expression.
"Tari..." His voice cracked, and he hated how vulnerable he sounded. "It's complicated."
"Is he hurting you?" she asked immediately, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Because if he is—"
"No!" SMG4 said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "No, it's not—it's nothing like that. It's just..." He ran a hand through his hair, the same hair that SMG3 had pulled just hours ago, and felt heat crawl up his neck. "We're trying to figure it out. What it means. What we are. And with everything happening, with the theft, we just—we can't deal with everyone knowing right now."
Tari studied him for a long moment, and SMG4 felt like she could see straight through him, could read every secret written on his skin.
"You care about him," she said finally, and it wasn't a question.
"I—" SMG4 stopped, the words catching in his throat. Did he? Was that what this was? More than just the explosive release of years of tension, more than just physical need? "I don't know. Maybe. Yes. I think so."
"Does he care about you?"
The question hit harder than it should have. SMG4 thought about the way SMG3 had looked at him in the secret room, the way he'd whispered don't ever stop like a prayer, the way his hands had trembled when he'd admitted he was scared.
"I think so," SMG4 said quietly. "But we're both terrified of what that means."
Tari nodded slowly, then pulled him into a gentle hug. "Your secret's safe with me," she whispered. "But you can't keep running from it forever. And you can't let fear make you into liars. Not to us, and not to each other."
She pulled back, giving him a small, sad smile, then turned and walked back toward the investigation room.
SMG4 stood there, his chest tight, her words echoing in his mind. You can't let fear make you into liars.
He took a shaky breath and followed her back inside.
The room had shifted in his absence. SMG3 was at the laptop now, his fingers flying over the keys, and there was something electric in his posture—excitement, maybe, or triumph.
"I found something," SMG3 announced, and everyone crowded around him. "The security footage might have been wiped, but the backup server keeps metadata logs. I cross-referenced the timestamps with our network activity, and there's a spike in data transfer at 2:43 AM—four minutes before the footage cuts out."
"Where was it going?" Meggy demanded.
"An external IP address. Encrypted, but I can trace it." SMG3's eyes were bright, alive with the thrill of the hunt. He glanced up at SMG4, and for a moment, the mask slipped. There was pride there, and something softer—a silent question. See? We're good at this. Together.
SMG4 felt something warm unfurl in his chest. "How long will the trace take?"
"An hour, maybe two." SMG3 leaned back, his hand brushing against SMG4's as he reached for a pen, and the contact sent electricity racing up SMG4's arm. Neither of them pulled away immediately, and SMG4 saw Tari notice, saw her eyes soften with understanding.
"Then we wait," Meggy said, but she was watching them too now, her gaze sharp and assessing.
The next hour was agony. They worked in tense silence, reviewing files, checking alibis, but SMG4 was hyperaware of every movement SMG3 made, every time their eyes met across the room. The connection between them felt like a live wire, dangerous and impossible to ignore.
And then, finally, the trace completed.
SMG3 stared at the screen, his face going pale. "No," he whispered. "No, that's not—"
"What?" SMG4 moved to his side, looking at the monitor. "Three, what is it?"
The IP address resolved to a location. A familiar location.
"It's coming from inside the Showgrounds," SMG3 said, his voice hollow. "From the castle. From your office, Four."
The room went silent. Every eye turned to SMG4, and he felt the weight of their suspicion like a physical thing, crushing the air from his lungs.
"I didn't—" he started, but the words felt useless. "I wasn't even there. I was with—"
He stopped, the truth hovering on his lips. I was with Three. All night. He's my alibi, and I'm his.
But saying it would expose everything. Would make them vulnerable in ways he wasn't ready for.
SMG3's eyes met his, wide and desperate, and SMG4 saw the same calculation happening behind them. The same impossible choice.
Tell the truth and expose their relationship, or stay silent and let the suspicion grow.
"Someone's framing him," SMG3 said suddenly, his voice hard. "Obviously. Four wouldn't steal his own work."
"How do you know?" Meggy asked, her tone careful. "Where were you, SMG4? Really?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
SMG4 looked at SMG3, saw the fear and the longing and the desperate hope in his eyes, and made his choice.
"I was with Three," he said quietly. "All night. At the cafe."
"Doing what?" Mario asked, tilting his head.
The silence stretched, taut and fragile.
And then SMG3 stood, his chair scraping against the floor, and crossed the room to stand beside SMG4. Close enough that their shoulders touched. Close enough that there was no mistaking the intimacy of the gesture.
"Figuring some things out," SMG3 said, his voice steady despite the tremor SMG4 could feel running through him. "Personal things. Things that are none of your business."
Meggy's eyes widened. Luigi gasped. Tari smiled softly, like she'd been waiting for this.
"Oh," Meggy said slowly, understanding dawning across her face. "Oh."
"So you see," SMG3 continued, his hand finding SMG4's and squeezing once, hard, "Four couldn't have done this. Because he was with me. And I'm not letting anyone accuse him of something he didn't do."
SMG4's heart was hammering so hard he thought it might break through his ribs, but he squeezed back, holding on like SMG3 was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly tilted sideways.
"Well," Bob said into the stunned silence, "this is awkward."
And despite everything—the theft, the accusations, the exposure of their most vulnerable secret—SMG4 felt a laugh bubble up in his chest.
Because they'd done it. They'd told the truth.
And the world hadn't ended.
Not yet, anyway.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.