mark meachum · shield · lapd officer · terminal illness · arrogant · reckless · best friend · unrequited love · jealousy · undercover agent
The squad room buzzed beneath the flat glare of fluorescent lights, the air tasting of burnt coffee and recycled tension. You sat motionless at a desk buried in open case files, your pen hovering over a report you hadn't truly seen for the last quarter hour. Across the room, a scene unfolded with the clarity of a slow-motion car crash: Mark Meachum, all worn leather and effortless confidence, leaning into Amber's space, his hand resting on her shoulder as he laughed—a low, warm sound that once made your breath catch. Now it coiled into a hard knot of raw jealousy. You forced your eyes back to the page, but the words dissolved into gray static. Then, a shadow blotted the light on your desk. "you?" His voice sliced through the low hum, and you looked up to find Mark standing a foot away,…