The police station smelled faintly of rotting eggs mixed with an overpowering pine cleaner. There was a small waiting room where the people that weren’t wearing handcuffs got to sit and get offered some of the most watered-down coffee in the entire world. The three of us turned it down, sitting next to a window that looked out at the cop-car-filled parking lot. It was a cloudy day with a near constant threat of rain, making it all the more gloomy inside these four walls.

Noah sat with his legs crossed, eyes bouncing around the room. Eric radiated a bit more confidence, which made sense, considering his past occupation. He’d already said hi to a couple of the officers and had one of them go speak to his captain for us. We were told we’d only be waiting for a couple of minutes, but it was already reaching half an hour without anyone calling us over.

I stood and stretched, deciding to go ask the uniformed man sitting at the desk if there was any movement on our case.

“Nothing,” he said, answering without barely looking up from the computer screen.

“You sure? We just need dashboard cam footage and a cha—”

“I know what you need. I don’t have it.” This time, he did look up from his screen, a look of frustration twisting his bushy brows and scarred upper lip.

I wasn’t the confrontational type, especially not when it came to the law, but damn did I want to ball up a fist and send it flying across this guy’s jaw. He was so nonchalant about this. Meanwhile, my boy—my friend was sitting back there chewing his nails down to the bed because of how scared he was.

Friend. All we are.

Eric got up from his chair, the thin metallic legs scratching the already scuffed green tiles. He wasn’t coming to the front desk, though. Instead, he walked right over to a side door, where a smiling man waited with an arm held out, receiving Eric’s shake.

“Nice to see you again, Eric.”

Eric pulled the man into a tight side hug. “You too, Julian. These are my friends Noah and Jake. Noah’s the one that the threat was addressed to.”

Julian, a captain according to his badge, looked to Noah, his big brown eyes appearing sympathetic as opposed to the icy-cold glare I got from the guy at the front desk. “Sorry you’re going through this, man.” I noticed a rainbow wristband attached to his Apple Watch, popping against the black-and-white forearm tattoo he had. It made me feel noticeably more comfortable, knowing that Julian likely understood firsthand the kind of bullshit Noah was going through right now. Granted, he could just be a guy who liked colorful wristbands, but I decided to err on the everyone’s-queer side unless proven straight, at least for now.