Chapter Text
A slave to the adrenaline rush.
Juyeon had to jump. It was a three-storey fall, but years of training parkour and running away from the cops and (sometimes) the higher government authorities has taught Juyeon that nothing is impossible as long as money is on the line.
And he had a huge reward waiting for him just a few more meters away.
Living the life of an infamous thief wasn’t exactly what Juyeon wanted when he was young—he wanted to be a pilot, to soar through the skies without a care in the world, to get to different countries and meet people with different life stories as he built up his own legend.
Oh, he was still building a legend. Some sort of modern-day Robin Hood where Juyeon, with the help of Kevin and Hyunjae, would steal from the richest of the rich then give it back to the poorest of the poor. They once gave a man a whole gold nugget, but the poor, old man merely returned it to them and asked for bread instead.
Poor things. Juyeon had thought. He thought about how wealth was so different to the social classes—the poorest of the poor were wealthy if they had food, the middle class were wealthy if they could relax, and the rich if they didn’t work. It’s such a fucked up world for such a thing to be real, yet here we are.
“Juyeon, you’re not gonna make that jump!” Kevin screeched into Juyeon’s in-ear, temporarily deafening him. “There are stairs to your right!”
“That’ll take too long. Tell Hyunjae-hyung to move the van.” Juyeon panted, still running. Gunshots were being fired behind him, but he knew that once he jumped, they’ll be gone. The authorities wouldn’t come after them as the richest people cannot report Juyeon’s crimes—the things Juyeon stole were stolen as well. You can’t get filthy rich through honesty, after all.
“Juyeon—oh, you idiot! Hyunjae-hyung, drive!”
“Don’t tell me what to do!”
“Juyeon’s going to jump!”
“That son of a ---"
Juyeon chuckled despite being breathless from running. He could always count on those two to bicker like an old married couple. Juyeon may be older than Kevin, but the younger always acted like a mother to him, so he just went with it. Being without family for so long kind of makes you cling onto any semblance of a home no matter how abnormal it may be, after all.
The edge was coming up fast.
“Are you guys parked?” Juyeon asked urgently, holding onto his parcel securely.
“Yes!”
Juyeon used to be scared of heights. Not the falling, no. Juyeon reveled in falling. The adrenaline, the surge of energy bursting from his heart to his fingertips. The falling was freedom, feeling the air rush past him like he’s weightless and formless. He was one with the wind.
No, Juyeon was scared of the impact. Will there be something there to catch him? To prevent him from breaking his neck? Juyeon doesn’t really believe in fate or destiny or whatever bullshit Kevin looks up whenever he’s on his astrology crap. You make your own future. No one else. That’s why Juyeon had to make sure Hyunjae had driven up to catch him.
Juyeon needed to make sure he had control.
“Readying the drop in five.” Hyunjae noted through the intercom.
“Do it in three.” Juyeon shouted, pushing himself off the ledge.
In those three seconds, Juyeon saw his life flash before his eyes. Growing up in an orphanage, playing with donated toys… his first crush… was Ysa her name? Juyeon couldn’t remember clearly anymore. She was his first kiss too. His gay awakening in high school, his first experience stealing—it was a candy bar, not that big of a deal. Graduating high school. Making out with this guy under the bleachers in college. Dropping out because he had no funds…
Who knew three seconds could take so long?
His first job, a solo one. Juyeon met Kevin and Hyunjae through it, both already working in their fields for some time. They became a unit, then friends, then a family. Kevin cooking spaghetti. Hyunjae proposing to Kevin with an onion ring. Juyeon, alone, stargazing in the middle of nowhere.
FWUP!
Juyeon’s arm hurt from where he had landed on it on the mattress on top of their get-away truck, but it was a bearable pain and Juyeon quickly rolled down into a chute as Kevin threw the mattress away and Hyunjae cranked up the speed, already cruising towards freedom and their reward.
“Don’t you ever dare do that again!” Kevin scolded, wrenching his in-ear away. He punched Juyeon’s arm, unaware of it hurting. He doubled back when the other man recoiled, however, and immediately became concerned. “Wait, what’s wrong? Is your arm okay?”
“Landed on it. Gonna need some painkillers, no big deal.” Juyeon threw the parcel on the floor of the van. “Contact Mr. Han. We have his artifact.”
Hyunjae snorted from his place in the driver’s seat. “Of course, we do. You’re the best field agent in the underground world, Ju. Our team is just formidable with you—hey, you stupid pedestrians!” Hyunjae honked loudly. “Stupid people… can’t even read when it’s time to pause.”
“Easy on the road rage, hyung.” Juyeon laughed, accepting the painkillers Kevin handed over and gulping the pills dry. “I think my shoulder is dislocated.”
Kevin sighed. “I hate having to do this.” He complained, but moved behind Juyeon anyway, holding his shoulder. “Just… hold your breath, Ju.”
With a satisfying crack, Juyeon’s shoulder was back in place and they were all on their merry way to get paid once again… but not before passing through a drive-thru and ordering some burgers.
What’s a heist without some carbs to eat while getting away, anyway?
***
Pretty and powerful? You mean, Choi Chanhee?
Chanhee lightly tapped his manicured fingernails on the mahogany desk, looking down impassively at the broken, kneeling man in front of him. Said man was sobbing, begging for his life, maybe. Chanhee had zoned out. Anyway, Younghoon could tell him what he missed later.
Changmin was already holding an emerald-encrusted pistol, the same shade as his newly dyed, eye-catching green hair, to the man’s head. He was saying something about diamonds, and that piqued Chanhee’s attention once more.
“You have one chance left. Where is the Pink Star?” Changmin growled.
“He’s so hot when he’s angry.” Younghoon whispered to Chanhee.
“Hyung, do all of us a favor and just ask Changmin out, please.” Chanhee groaned.
“I’m trying to do work here, can you two please act interested?” Changmin complained, eyes not wavering from the trembling man. “Chanhee, you’re the boss and all, but you really need to listen. This… pathetic, slobbering, crying man knows the location of the most expensive pink diamond in the world, but isn’t saying anything.”
Chanhee frowned. “And why is that?”
“I don’t know.” Changmin shrugged.
“I’m not asking you, Minnie.” Chanhee rolled his eyes. “You,” he pointed at the kneeling man. “Look at me.”
Slowly, the man lifted his head, bloodied and bruised from the beating Changmin had excitedly given out a little earlier. He looked defeated already, but there was a fire in his eyes that Chanhee would really like to see extinguished forever.
“Where’s the diamond, Mister…? I don’t even know your name.” Chanhee face-palmed.
“Mr. Song.” Younghoon reminded.
“Oh… Song, huh?” Chanhee checked his drawer, taking out a custom-made pink crystal knife. He handed it over to Changmin, who seemed a little too happy with the turn of events. “Say, Mr. Song, would you pretty please sing for us? Changminnie here can be your conductor, and tune you to sing the song we really would like to hear.”
Younghoon chuckled quietly beside Chanhee at the fear in the man’s eyes.
“Don’t kill him, Min. I just want him broken. Broken men are so good to talk to, especially when they’re desperate to be killed.” Chanhee stood up, getting bored of the situation. “Have a doctor ready to keep him on the edge… or just get Jacob-hyung. If he’s not busy with his pet canaries, that is.”
“And… where are you going?” Younghoon asked.
“The kitchen. I’m hungry.” Chanhee started to dismiss himself, then paused, sitting back down. “On second thought, don’t get Jacob-hyung and give me back my knife, Minnie. I’ll do it myself.”
Changmin failed to hide his smirk at the sudden terror Chanhee emitted all over the room. Suddenly, the walls were taller and more domineering, closing in on poor Mr. Song, who was whimpering loudly and begging for his life to be spared.
“Oh, you know the rules, Mr. Song. You sing or you die, little birdy.” Changmin chirped happily, going behind the desk to stand with Younghoon as Chanhee took his place beside the pale, sniffling man. “Chan, I think we should just skin him.”
“Drugging him would have made this ordeal easier.” Younghoon interjected, not really a fan of violence. “Let him taste Sunwoo’s new truth serum. I heard its side effects included a range from vomiting to a paralysis, but he did say it was effective.”
“Please… please…”
“Yes. Beg for your sanity to stay with you.” Chanhee nodded, crouching in front of the kneeling man. “Beg, Mr. Song. Maybe some god will hear you, because here, only the devils surrounding you can… and these devils want to hear your song. Please sing, please.”
Younghoon bristled. “I think I’m an angel, Chanhee. Don't rope me in."
“Shush.” Changmin was quick to scold. “Don’t ruin the moment, hyung.”
“Sorry.”