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“Let’s get out of here.”
Sirens send chills down Jongin’s back. They’re not quite near, but he can hear them from a distance, and it’s unnerving enough.
He knows Sehun hears him, but there are more important things on the man’s mind. He feels uneasy, knots twisting and tightening in his stomach, but he can’t do much about it. Sehun is the one in control and he trusts him. He has to.
Jongin has never liked robbing banks. He prefers pubs and other shops where cashiers would just hand them the money. Banks were different: big, cold, and the smell of money was never as comforting.
The shrill sound of the sirens grows closer. Jongin worries his lip between his teeth. They’ve never been in this kind of situation before, yet Sehun is still in the vault, filling the bags with green bills. Each time a stack is thrown into the bag, and every time he hears a dull, papery thud, his heart jumps. They need to get out.
It’s not that Jongin fears he’ll be arrested. He’s afraid of being separated from Sehun. The man, to him, is much more than a partner in crime. He is everything he loves and everything he knows.
Part of him wonders if Sehun feels the same way. He knows Sehun loves him, but he’d always thought that the color of the man’s love was green, and not red.
There’s a flash of blue in Jongin’s periphery. His hand mechanically tightens around his revolver. He brings it up, and it’s hard to keep it steady when his heart is beating so fast.
“Sehun, please—“
“Calm down, I’m almost done.”
Almost.
The blue intensifies. Jongin’s palms are clammy and his index finger keeps slipping off the trigger. The room isn't as quiet as before, the hostages start stirring and sighing, seeming relieved and hopeful. This is when he knows it's bad.
Jongin pulls the trigger, aiming at nothing in particular, only to let the police know they're armed.
There's a final thud coming from the vault. A light rush of relief courses through Jongin's veins when Sehun emerges, but it's short lived.
"We need to get out of here," his voice comes out quiet and shaky.
Sehun smiles, as if amused by the situation, and tosses him his hunting rifle. He’s held it before, but it feels exceptionally heavy in hands. Jongin knows the procedure; he’s supposed to cover Sehun’s back when they flee, so he follows and backs away, never letting his guard down.
Blinding blue comes through the door, then there’s voices and shuffling.
Jongin freezes as he sees the police flooding in. Panic rushes through him, his fingers clench around the rifle, but he doesn’t pull the trigger, paralyzed by fear.
There’s a loud bang. The acrid smell of gunpowder. A papery thud followed by a heavier one. A pained gasp.
And it all comes from behind him.
Jongin turns around and sees his world crumble. The rifle falls to the floor, but he doesn’t hear it clatter. Everything is suddenly all too silent, and with the tears blurring his vision, he barely sees anything.
Sehun lies on the floor, clutching at his chest. Red seeps from his fingers and stains green bills. Jongin lets out a choked sob as he rushes towards the man and drops to his knees.
It hurts, the way Sehun looks at him, a sad smile playing on his lips. Jongin sees pain through his tears and frantically searches for the wound, and when he sees it, when he feels his lover's hot blood on his fingertips, he has to look away for a moment.
He feels lost. Everything he loves— everything he knows... It's slipping through his fingers. No matter how hard he tries to stop it, it keeps spilling onto the floor and soaking into those damn bills.
A faint, tired chuckle rises from Sehun's parted lips, and Jongin's heart tears, just a little more.
"Don't cry..." His voice is hoarse and weak. Jongin hates it. "I've had a good life... Dying ain't so bad."
Jongin wants to yell. He wants to ask why, why, why it has to end this way. He wants to tell Sehun he loves him, but the only things that make their way past his lips are loud, pained cries.
His lover smiles at him one last time, and his eyelids fall shut. He's still breathing, but Jongin can't bring himself to look at his face anymore. Instead, he threads his fingers through the man’s hair. Blood catches on dark locks, and Jongin wonders if it’s the universe’s way of getting back at them for all the dreams they stole, together.
Maybe, though, they were incompatible from the start. Sehun’s love was green, but Jongin’s love is red, just like blood. There’s so much of it and it won’t stop pouring.
Sehun’s breath rattles and Jongin continues stroking his hair, in hopes that it will ease his mind before he goes.
And he really does hope Sehun doesn’t see when he gets dragged away by the police. He hopes he doesn’t hear his screams of despair. He hopes his mind is at peace now.
Cold handcuffs burn against Jongin’s wrists. He’s thrown into a car, and as they drive away from the bank, he closes his eyes. The image of his lifeless lover plays behind his eyelids, and he thinks that yes, maybe dying isn’t so bad.