Addicted to You (2/2)
1
“I want to do it again,” Luhan says, eyes bright, and Minseok wonders idly if he’ll ever get used to that smile, get used to the way it skitters across his skin like a warm sunbeam.
“Luhan, it’s too dangerous, at least right now,” he says, pretending not the see the way Luhan’s eyes narrow. It’s not his fault he always has to be the sensible one. “That guy at the bank wasn’t joking-we made the papers. What we have to do now is just lay low until this all blows over.”
“But I want to do it again,” Luhan whines, a note of frustration creeping into his voice, and Minseok sighs because Luhan always wants too much, has never learned how to be patient. “Tell me it wasn’t exciting.”
“Not as exciting as getting arrested will be,” Minseok says flatly. “But I don’t particularly want that kind of excitement in my life, thank you very much.”
“What if,” Luhan says, and when Minseok looks up he notices that his eyes are strangely wide and eager. “What if I told you that this time would be special.”
“Special how?” Minseok asks, because the last time they had done a “special” job it had been Minseok’s idea and they had ended up racing down a rain-slicked highway in front of three different police cars, only managing to lose them by pulling off onto a dirt road and quickly parking the car in an abandoned barn. They’d laughed until they were hoarse as they watched the cars bumping up and down the darkening road, paint scraping against exposed rocks and low-hanging branches, until finally giving up and heading back to the main road, leaving Minseok to fuck Luhan soft and slow in the backseat, breath fogging the windows, fingernails scraping loudly against cracked leather. Not that Minseok had really minded that last part, especially because afterwards Luhan had given him with a satisfied smile and said, “I knew there was a reason I wanted you along.”
“Special, as in, this is it,” Luhan says, and Minseok stares at him in confusion.
“What do you mean?” he asks. “What do you mean ‘this is it’?”
“You’re right Minseok,” Luhan says lazily, and if Minseok blinks he’ll miss the slight shadow of hesitation flitting across Luhan’s face. “We can’t do this forever-they just keep getting closer and closer and one day we’ll either have to give ourselves up or kill someone and neither of those options sound particularly good to me.”
“We could get out of here,” Minseok says, and his voice is strangely tinged with wonder, as if he’s listening to himself say the words rather than actually saying them. “We could leave.”
“If that’s what you want,” Luhan says, smooth and sweet and honest. “And I’d completely understand if you want to leave, if you don’t want to try and stay with someone who needs to risk their neck before they can feel alive, who dragged you into this and might just get you killed because they-because-what I mean is, you don’t have to-”
But Minseok doesn’t let him finish, unfolding himself from the chair he’s sitting in and closing the distance between them with a few quick steps, roughly yanking Luhan’s head up so their lips collide. And Minseok knows how much Luhan’s always liked kissing, how much he likes the slant of Minseok’s mouth against his own, how much he loves it when Minseok licks along his lower lip, biting down just hard enough to draw out a helpless gasp.
“Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?” Minseok breathes as he breaks the kiss, keeping his hands cupped around Luhan’s cheeks. “Did you really think I left my parents and my stupid house and my stupid town to go with you only to leave now?”
“Sure you don’t want to go back and take them back up on that offer of a nice, sweet, little girlfriend?” Luhan asks, covering Minseok’s hands with his own, and Minseok grins.
“You’re really fucking stupid,” he says, kissing Luhan again, letting Luhan twist hungry fingers into his hair.
“I think I can live with that,” Luhan hums with a smile like melted sunshine, and Minseok laughs softly at the excitement written into the lines of his shoulders, the eager tension sticking to his fingers.
They’re holding hands as they walk up to the bank, snow crunching gently underfoot. This building is larger than the other one, warm yellow light shining out of plate-glass windows into the deep blue evening. Minseok can feel the chill even through his thick, puffy jacket, but Luhan’s hand is warm in his own and when Luhan turns to look at him, eyes confident and proud, he forgets about the cold.
Luhan shoves the door open, fires a warning shot into the ceiling, and smirks as the patrons begin to scream, throwing themselves to the ground with useless hands clasped over their heads. The crack of the gun still echoes in Minseok’s ears as he steps quickly to the middle of the room, a pistol in each hand, eyes roving over the forms huddled in front of him.
Luhan’s already got a hand around the neck of the bank teller, dragging him out from behind his little desk, and when Luhan meets his eyes and sighs dramatically Minseok smiles, waiting for the teller to yank open a cashbox hidden beneath his desk. Luhan’s always handled his guns so lazily, as if he almost can’t waste the effort it takes to keep the weapon secure. But his hand never wavers, perfectly steady as it presses hard against the fat teller’s temple, metal shining with sweat where it touches his skin.
Then Luhan’s shoving the man aside, grabbing a handful of bills, and when he sees that Minseok’s watching he throws them giddily into the air. Minseok laughs loudly, especially when Luhan climbs onto the teller’s desk and starts throwing up a shower of money, now with both hands, letting them rain down like greasy snowflakes. And then Minseok’s hauling himself up onto the desk as well, sticking the guns in his hands into his waistband so he can pull Luhan closer. And it suddenly doesn’t matter that they’re in the middle of robbing a bank, that the people on the floor are starting to look around curiously, that the police could arrive at any second, because Luhan is glowing with excitement and adrenaline and finality because this is the last and Minseok just can’t help kissing him. Luhan responds enthusiastically, throwing his arms tight around Minseok’s neck and licking deep into his mouth, losing himself in the heat and the syrupy glitter of the moment as they stand surrounded by meaningless bits of paper and shocked looks as the people around them begin to get brave enough to lift up their heads.
But then Minseok hears sirens wailing in the background, sees a light flash into his eyes from the front window, and he yanks the guns out of his waistband, pointing them directly at the cars he can see pulling up in front of the building.
“Quick,” Luhan says harshly, reaching into his bag and pulling out the explosives they managed to procure two nights ago from a very shady character named Baekhyun that Luhan had promised wasn’t usually as high as he had appeared to be that night. “I’ll set these off by the safe door and then when they go around the side to check it out we’ll go out the back.”
Minseok nods, mouth set into a thin line as he sees dark figures piling out of the cars, trampling over the grey-blue snow. He glances anxiously back to follow Luhan’s progress down the short hallway leading to the vault, and his whole body suddenly freezes in place.
“Luhan!” he manages to scream, voice dragging raggedly over the syllables as he throws himself down from the teller’s desk, shoes squealing against the marble floor as he runs. Luhan turns toward him in confusion, fingers just pressing the button to start the countdown for the charges he’s set along the vault door, and then Minseok hears the shattering.
He fires once, twice, but he can’t see if he hit the man standing outside the window at the end of the hall, can’t see anything but the red stain spreading across the front of Luhan’s pale white sweater, the soft, slightly surprised look in Luhan’s eyes as he falls. Minseok grabs him just before he hits the floor, sliding his arms under Luhan’s armpits and pulling him out of the hallway, over to the wall where they’re hidden by the teller’s desk. The people that had been cowering on the floor are now screaming, getting to their feet and running for the door, slamming it open and falling out into the frigid night. But Minseok doesn’t care about them, doesn’t care about anything but the way Luhan’s eyes look so empty, the way his fingers are so weak as they curl around Minseok’s arm.
“Luhan,” he gasps, words choked with tears that he refuses to let fall. “Luhan, you’re going to be all right, I promise, we’ll get you out of here, we’ll get you to a hospital, you just need to get up, okay, can you get up?”
“Minseok,” Luhan whispers, and his voice is so small, so transparent, that Minseok feels sick, angry, desperate for something to hold on to, something to help him tie himself to reality. “Minseok, I’m so cold. Minseok, it hurts.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he says, eyes burning as he skims the room desperately, mind whirling as he tries to think of a way out, a way out for both of them.
“Minseok, you have to get out,” Luhan says, and his voice is a little stronger this time, a flash of that same steel Minseok’s always been proud of, always been all too excited to hear directed at other people. “I’m going to die here but that doesn’t mean you have to. Get out.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Minseok hisses, and suddenly the fog in his mind clears, thoughts zeroing in on the small red timer blinking at him from the door to the safe.
Luhan gasps, head lolling to the side as he presses shaking hands roughly against his own abdomen, and Minseok’s eyes are hard, breath pressing harshly against his lungs as he slides Luhan softly out of his lap, settling his still form up against the wall before sprinting over to the vault, ripping the charges off of the wall and stuffing them into the backpack he still has slung over his shoulder. He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, wondering why he feels so unafraid. Maybe he’s just never been particularly good at being a normal person. Or maybe he knows that if Luhan dies it won’t matter if he makes it out of here alive. Nothing will matter.
The winter air hits him like a physical blow, nearly sending him toppling sideways as the policemen standing around jump in shock, half a dozen guns suddenly pointed directly at him.
“Just walk over here real slowly,” a large man standing directly in front of him grunts, holding out a hand for Minseok’s backpack. “And we promise we won’t have to kill you like we did your friend.”
And Minseok takes a few tentative steps forward, mind echoing oddly as it fills with the sound of seconds ticking by, harsh beep of time passing pushing out every other thought.
“That’s it,” the man says sarcastically. “That’s it, you pathetic dick-sucking bastard. Don’t think we didn’t see that little show back in there. But just hand over the cash and I’ll tell ‘em to go easy on you, though I can’t say much for the guys in the local prison.”
By now the ticking is so loud Minseok can barely breath, eyes darting back and forth as he briefly holds the gaze of each of the men surrounding him, calculating, speculating, gambling. And then it’s too late, and Minseok is hauling back and throwing the bag with all of his strength, turning and racing towards the bank even as he feels a colossal explosion ripple through the air behind him, waves of bitter heat scratching at his back, his legs, the night erupting into a swirl of fire and screams and gunshots.
It’s only when Minseok reaches Luhan’s silent form, fingers sliding over skin to find a thready pulse, that he collapses, barking out a sob as he cradles his calf, hand coming away slick with blood. And he can hear heavy footsteps coming towards the front of the bank, can smell gunpowder and cigarette smoke wafting over the coppery scent of blood as he drags Luhan backwards, down the small hallway behind the teller’s desk. This time, he doesn’t feel the cold. The moon is hanging low and bright in the sky. Almost like it’s watching them, almost like it’s been waiting for them. For a single, wild moment, Minseok thinks he could touch it.
All he needs to do is jump and trust that the wind will catch him.
All he needs to do is jump.
It’s winter, and the snow is piled high on the ground outside, people rushing past covered in scarves and jackets, trying to get inside before the wind has a chance to sneak beneath their coverings and freeze them solid.
Minseok presses Luhan up against the door of their small, inconspicuous apartment and revels in the way Luhan is probably one of the only people in this entire country who can pronounce Minseok’s name correctly, and he’s definitely the only one who can make it sound like that, like it’s a plea. Or a prayer.
Minseok slides his fingers across the circle of dark scar tissue marring Luhan’s pale stomach and grins, enjoying the way the motion draws out tiny gasps and whimpers.
“We might as well break in the place,” Luhan breathes. “Think you can fuck me right here, right here against this wall?”
“I carried you out of a building with a bullet in my leg, you think I can’t handle this?” Minseok smirks as Luhan shivers deliciously, fingers tightening around Minseok’s jaw.
“My hero,” Luhan smirks sarcastically, breath hitching as Minseok leans in and presses heavy kisses against the column of his throat.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle living a quiet life?” Minseok laughs gently, reveling in the feel of Luhan’s eager fingers tracing along his ribcage.
“And what makes you think it’s going to be quiet?” Luhan smiles, before he leans in and kisses him hard.