Work Text:
Fourth pulled the trigger without even blinking. No hesitation, no second thoughts. The silencer muffled the shot, but it still echoed faintly in his chest like a heartbeat. The bullet hit the man clean in the forehead, dead center. The guy dropped like a puppet collapsing onto the polished hotel floor with a dull thud.
Fourth exhaled slowly, lowered his arm, and casually pulled his phone from his pocket. He walked over to the body, crouched a little, and snapped a picture, making sure the face, the bullet wound, and the background were all framed perfectly.
“HD. Clear shot. Samsung never disappoints.” he muttered to himself, giving the photo a brief nod of approval before attaching it to a message.
Work done. Sent.
Seconds later, his phone buzzed with a reply.
Boss: Good job.
Another buzz immediately followed, this time from his banking app. He glanced at the notification.
฿2,000,000 deposited , and couldn’t help the small, satisfied smirk that tugged at his lips.
He was about to slide the phone back into his pocket when it vibrated again. This time, the notification was different. A message from Gemini.
Gemgem: What do you want for dinner? Can’t decide between chicken or steak.
Fourth’s smirk softened into a full smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. The switch from an assassin to boyfriend was oddly seamless these days.
He typed back quickly, fingers light on the screen: I'll eat anything you cook. Will be back in an hour. Love you.
He paused, looked down at the body one last time, then turned and headed toward the fire escape, heart a little lighter than it had any right to be, considering what he’d just done.
He drove back home with one hand on the wheel and soft music playing low from the speakers. The city lights blurred past the window and as he pulled into the driveway, the corners of his lips tugged upward without him even realizing it. The thought of seeing him again did that. Every time.
He stepped out of the car and closed the door gently, the night air carrying just the faintest chill. The moment he opened the front door, he was hit with the scent of something savory, like a welcome-home hug.
“I’m back,” he called out, cheerful. He shrugged off his jacket and made his way toward the kitchen and there he was. His accountant boyfriend, Gemini. Standing at the counter, focused as ever, slicing herbs with that precise little rhythm he always had.
Gemini glanced up and his face lit up too, soft but so warm. “You’re early,” he said with a faint smile.
Fourth nodded, walking straight over to him and wrapping his arms around his waist from behind, placing a quick kiss on his shoulder. He buried his face against the side of Gemini’s neck and whispered, “I missed you.”
Gemini let out a low chuckle and tilted his head slightly. “Go take a shower,” he said, still chopping. “Dinner will be ready by the time you’re out.”
Fourth hummed in response, nuzzling once more before letting go. But as he pulled back, his eyes landed briefly on the cabinet just above the stove. He smiled again, eyes lingering on the cabinet where every spice jar stood in perfect formation. Labeled, arranged by height, color-coded lids facing the same direction. That quiet obsession with order. It was so him , so unmistakably Gemini.
Fourth made his way up to their room, mind already zoning out as he unbuttoned his shirt and stepped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, waited a few seconds for the water to warm, then stepped under the stream, letting it run over his head and down his back. His eyes closed slowly, and he exhaled, long and deep, like he could wash the entire day off with just that one breath.
Being a hired assassin wasn’t something he never truly got used to. At least, that’s what he used to believe. The assignments, the travel, the weight of ending lives, it used to shake him. Leave him drained, sleepless. But lately, something has shifted. The chaos felt manageable. Routine. Like he’d adapted. That thought alone unsettled him more than the kills.
He opened his eyes and reached for the shampoo. And just like that, another small smile tugged at his lips.
There it was again. The arrangement. Shampoo first, then conditioner, then leave-in treatment, followed by body soap, lotion, and body oil. Everything in its right place, labels turned out, aligned perfectly.
Fourth stood there for a moment, letting the water hit his back as he stared at the shelf. His mind drifted, unprompted, to the day he met Gemini. It had been two years ago, in Krabi, through a mutual friend who introduced them over dinner.
They clicked almost instantly.
Fourth remembered thinking it was rare to meet someone like him. Someone who laughed with their whole face, whose eyes crinkled slightly at the corners when they smiled. Someone who could talk numbers for hours and somehow make it sound like poetry.
To Gemini, Fourth was an interior designer. A job that explained his travel, his flexible schedule, his occasional exhaustion. He didn’t know the truth, about the assignments, the kills, the dangerous threads of a life woven in blood and secrets. And Fourth had no intention of letting that world ever touch him. Whatever darkness he carried, it stayed locked behind doors, gone the second he stepped into their home.
When Fourth came downstairs, the scent of dinner hit him first. The dining table was set immaculately, as always. Plates centered, utensils aligned, napkins folded just right. The food was already plated, steam rising gently off the dishes. “Let’s eat,” Gemini said, glancing up and flashing him that soft smile.
They sat together, the clinking of cutlery the only sound for a moment before Gemini launched into his usual dinner small talk.
“The herb I planted sprouted today,” he said, clearly pleased with himself. “Also, I fed two stray cats that showed up near the fence.”
Fourth looked up from his plate, lips tugging into a smile.
“I’ll see if they come again tomorrow,” Gemini added, like it mattered. Fourth’s smile widened just a little.
“How was your day?” Gemini asked casually, scooping more rice onto his spoon.
That question made Fourth’s hand pause mid-motion. Just for a second. His smile wavered, barely noticeable, but he caught himself quickly.
“It was good,” he said, stabbing a piece of meat. “I finished my job clean. My client was impressed.”
Gemini nodded, chewing happily. And just like that, the moment passed.
After dinner, their routine slipped in naturally. They cleaned and then, Gemini grabbed the PlayStation controller, plopped onto the couch, booted up his favorite shooter. Fourth followed, flopping beside him with a soft sigh. He never stood a chance in these games, but it had become part of the charm.
Lose. Complain. Repeat.
As expected, within twenty minutes, his character had been shot twice and blown up once. Gemini didn’t even try to hide his smug grin.
“How come you win all the time?” Fourth groaned, his head falling back against the couch dramatically as his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Gemini chuckled under his breath, eyes still glued to the screen. “The trick is,” he said with a playful lilt, “to be quick. Also, you need to go to the top to get the best vantage point.”
Fourth let out a slow exhale, stretching his legs, and a soft yawn slipped out before he could stop it.
//
It was probably about two weeks later when Fourth got another assignment. He waited at the usual café they used for meetings, low-key, and quiet. His boss slid into the seat across from him with that same unreadable expression, already pulling a photo from his folder.
“Client paid top money for this one,” he said, handing the picture over.
Fourth took it and glanced down. Middle-aged guy, sharp suit, smug face.
“Politician,” his boss went on. “He’s scheduled to stay at the Grand Lime Hotel for three nights. Alone.”
Fourth gave a slow nod, still studying the photo.
“The client prefers,” his boss added, voice dropping slightly, “that he was slain to death.”
That phrasing made Fourth blink. He looked up, a bit confused.
“Like…knives?” he repeated.
His boss didn’t say anything, just gave a short nod like it was no big deal. Apparently, the man had wronged the client in a very personal way. No details were given, but the tone of the request said enough.
Fourth looked at the picture again, this time a little longer. Something about it felt heavier, or maybe it was just the method that threw him off. Guns were clean, quick. Knives were personal. Up close. Messier in every way.
Still, work was work. He gave a small exhale, nodded once more, and slipped the photo into his jacket pocket without another word.
//
Fourth sat in the car, the engine still running as they slowed to a stop a few meters before the hotel. The building loomed ahead, sleek and quiet, its lights reflecting off the polished windows. He didn’t get out right away. Instead, he reached for his mask, slipping it on without much thought, and grabbed the tool of the night, a sharp, curved blade.
He looked at his team through the rearview mirror and gave a nod. “Come by in twenty. If I’m not out by then, leave,” he said plainly, not waiting for confirmation before stepping out of the car.
The night air felt still. Fourth walked steadily across the pavement, slipping into the hotel entrance like he belonged there. He didn’t bother heading to the reception desk, no need. Instead, he walked straight to the elevator with the kind of confidence that didn’t raise suspicion. That was one thing he learned early on: look like you’re supposed to be there, and no one will question it.
Inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the correct floor. The soft hum of the lift filled the silence as he stared at the mirrored panel, adjusting the mask slightly. A soft ding sounded a few seconds later. He stepped out calmly and glanced down the hallway. Empty.
He walked toward the designated room, footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. Pulling out the card key, he tapped it against the sensor. The green light flashed, the lock clicked, and he opened the door slowly, his grip tightening on the knife.
The room was quiet. Too quiet.
Fourth stepped inside, closing the door behind him without a sound. His eyes scanned the space quickly, neat, untouched. He moved forward into the suite, careful but smooth in his movement, expecting the target to appear from some corner.
But the more he looked, the more something felt off. There was no one. No sound, no movement. He was just about to pull out his phone and update his team when he noticed the bathroom door slightly open.
A sliver of white light spilled through the gap.
He approached, slow and quiet, holding his breath without realizing it. His fingers curled tighter around the knife. One step, then another. Then he pushed the door open gently.
And there he was.
The man. The target.
Lying in the bathtub, his body half-submerged in a pool of dark red. His neck had clean slices across it. Precise, almost surgical. The water had already started to tint deep crimson, and his lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling.
Fourth froze.
He didn’t move for a long second. His mind felt like it stalled, just the soft hum of the bathroom light filling the silence. Then, slowly, his eyes scanned the rest of the bathroom. No signs of a struggle. No drops of blood on the floor. Nothing out of place.
The tub was spotless except for the blood. No splatter, no stray footprints, no mess.
The toiletries on the counter were all perfectly aligned. Fourth’s eyes lingered on the row. Shampoo, conditioner, leave-in treatment, facial wash , each one arranged with unsettling precision. The towel hung folded over the rack, crisp and untouched. Even the toothbrushes stood upright in their holder, straight, evenly spaced.
Fourth frowned, stepping back slowly. The whole room gave off a strange energy, like someone had cleaned up after a crime scene, but not in a rushed, frantic way. In a... purposeful one.
He stepped back out into the suite, his throat dry as he looked around again. Everything in the room was... normal. The pillows on the couch were fluffed. The glasses on the minibar were aligned. Not even a painting was crooked. No signs of forced entry, or surprise attack. That’s when the unease sank in a little deeper. This wasn’t police work. If it were, it would’ve been a mess. He turned and left the suite without another word, footsteps a little quicker now, his mind starting to work overtime. He had no job left to do, but the question sat at the back of his head.
//
While Fourth was driving back to his house, one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel and the other holding his phone to his ear, he called his boss. The line clicked and the older man picked up almost immediately. Fourth didn’t waste time with small talk.
“I got there and the target was already dead,” he said, eyes on the road, the lights of the passing cars casting flickers across his face.
There was a brief silence on the other end before his boss let out a thoughtful hum. “How…how was the scene?”
“Too clean,” Fourth replied, voice flat. “No mess. No struggle. Looked like someone slit his throat while he was soaking in the tub and cleaned up after.”
Another beat of silence. Then the older man exhaled, a sound halfway between a sigh and something heavier. “It was probably him,” he muttered.
Fourth’s brows furrowed. “Who?”
“There was another team,” his boss said slowly, like he wasn’t sure how much to say. “Used to work quietly like us. Same kind of jobs. They paused operations a few years ago. Lay low. But there’s been talk lately. Word is someone new joined them. Young. Efficient. They say he’s slightly eccentric. But ever since he’s in, they’ve started taking orders again.”
Fourth’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. “New guy,” he repeated under his breath, the words rolling around in his head as he pulled into the driveway of his house.
He parked the car and sat there for a second, the phone still pressed to his ear even though the call had already ended.
He exhaled roughly as he leaned back against the driver’s seat, dragging his fingers through his hair in frustration. Something about someone else getting to the job before him just rubbed him the wrong way. It wasn’t about the money. It was the principle. The clean-up. The message. Whoever did it wasn’t just fast, they were precise. And that annoyed him more than he wanted to admit.
He pushed the car door open and stepped out, locking it behind him with a quick beep. The moment he turned the key and opened the front door, his expression shifted like a switch. Softer. Gentler. “I’m home,” he called out, his voice almost cheerful.
“You’re late,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Fourth sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the door behind him. “Work dragged longer than usual.”
He didn’t elaborate. “I’ll go take a shower,” he said, already moving toward the stairs.
A few minutes later, he came down fresh, hair damp, wearing a clean shirt and loose pants. The scent of dinner filled the air, and he saw that everything had already been prepared. The table was set neatly, just like always. Gemini was already seated, placing the last dish down.
They sat across from each other, and the gentle clinking of cutlery filled the space between them.
“So,” Gemini said as he scooped a bit of rice onto his plate, “what happened today?”
Fourth paused, pushing his food around with his fork for a moment. His smile was small and a little forced. “Didn’t really go as expected,” he admitted, voice a bit tight as his mind flicked back to the scene in the hotel bathroom.
Gemini looked at him, curious but not prying. “But did you manage to finish?”
Fourth shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, then lifted his gaze and offered a more practiced smile. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure I do next time.”
Gemini nodded, lips curling into a soft smile as he continued eating.
Fourth finally took a bite, chewing slowly, then glanced around the table without thinking. His eyes landed on the napkin folded beside his plate. It was crisp. Neat. Not a single wrinkle on it. He then looked at the sides of the plate, the knife and fork were lined up perfectly, exactly the same space from the edge. The spoon was angled just right.
And then, almost involuntarily, his mind jumped back to earlier. The complete absence of chaos, despite the blood in the tub. That pristine suite. The spotless countertop. The way every bottle in the bathroom had been lined up, too perfectly. Even the toothbrushes stood straight. And the toiletries.
Shampoo, conditioner, leave-in treatment, facial wash , arranged in the exact order he is used to.
Something shifted in his chest, subtle but sharp.
A quiet, creeping feeling crawled up his spine as his gaze slowly lifted from the table to the man sitting across from him.
Gemini was still eating, humming faintly under his breath, completely immersed in his food. Blissful. Unbothered. Fourth watched him, and then noticed the way he was cutting his steak. Clean. Precise. One smooth motion.
Fourth’s lips parted slightly. His breath hitched. His gaze slowly traveled upward, following the movement of that steady hand, until his eyes met the man sitting across from him.
//
Fourth’s mind hadn’t known peace for days. It wasn’t just the job, it was the lingering unease that gnawed at him constantly. The scene in that hotel suite replayed over and over in his head, looping like static. Maybe it really was someone trying to throw him off, someone deliberately mimicking a style just to mess with him. Or maybe it wasn’t intentional at all, just some random hitman with the same obsessive neatness. Coincidence? Maybe. But the precision. The alignment. The way nothing was out of place.
It haunted him.
He tried to brush it off, but it kept creeping back in. Every time he looked at Gemini folding towels or lining up the utensils before dinner, it scratched a little deeper into his brain.
About a week later, just when the tension inside him was starting to feel unbearable, his boss called again.
Same café. Same time. Fourth got there first and sat at his usual table near the back, trying to keep his leg from bouncing. A few minutes later, the older man arrived, moving a little slower than usual, a thick manila envelope tucked under one arm.
Without a word, the man slid the envelope across the table. Fourth took it, opened it up, and pulled out a photo.
This time, the target was in his late thirties, a heavyset man in a custom Italian suit, sunglasses perched low on his nose even in the photo. He was leaning casually against the side of a black armored car, flanked by men in dark clothes, guns barely concealed.
“A mafia,” the boss said, sipping his coffee. “He’ll be staying at the Bangkok Rooftop Hotel for the next few nights.”
Fourth barely registered it. His eyes were still on the picture, but his thoughts had drifted again.
“He’ll be surrounded by women and his men,” the boss added, tone flat. “But he always sends everyone away once he’s had his fill. That’s when you come in,”
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Will the other guy... the new one... be getting this too?”
The old man paused for a moment, not looking surprised by the question. Then he nodded. “Of course.”
Fourth’s jaw tightened slightly.
“The client sent out the job to multiple contractors,” the man added, tone calm and unreadable. “The one who completes the mission gets the money.”
Fourth sat back, fingers curling around the edge of the envelope. His chest felt heavier than it should.
This was it. The mission that might finally give him the answer he hadn’t been able to get out of his head all week. The one that would either clear his doubts or confirm his worst fear.
//
Fourth was almost ready to head out. He zipped up his jacket and glanced over his shoulder, eyes landing on Gemini who was standing by the room mirror, buttoning up his work shirt. The soft morning light coming in through the window hit the side of his face, catching in his lashes and warming his features.
“I’ll go first,” Fourth said, his voice even, but there was a weight behind it that Gemini didn’t quite catch.
The man looked up, fingers pausing at the collar of his shirt. He gave a small smile, one that tugged gently at the corner of his lips. “Try to come back early today,” he said as he reached for his bag. “I’ll cook your favorite.”
Fourth nodded slowly. His hand stayed on the doorknob, but his eyes didn’t move. They lingered on Gemini, on the way he smoothed the wrinkle on his sleeve, on the way he adjusted the watch on his wrist.
“I love you, Gem,” Fourth said softly, sincerely, not moving just yet.
Gemini turned to him fully now, that smile widening like it always did when he heard those words. “I love you, Fot,” he said back, without missing a beat.
Fourth smiled tenderly, gave a tiny nod, then finally stepped out the door.
//
Fourth sat at the bar, one hand loosely curled around a glass of whiskey. He wasn’t drinking fast, just letting the cool liquid sit on his tongue before he swallowed. His eyes weren’t on the drink, though. They were locked on the man sitting a few tables away, surrounded by a small group of women who were clearly enjoying the man’s wallet more than his company.
Every so often, Fourth let his gaze sweep the room. Not in a way that would draw attention, just a casual glance here and there. Habit. But tonight, a part of him wasn’t just looking for threats. He was scanning for something else too. Or someone. A shadow. A shape. A face he knew far too well.
A face he loved.
Gemini wouldn’t be here. Of course he wouldn’t. But Fourth couldn’t stop the quiet, gnawing thought that maybe, just maybe, he was.
He checked the time. Watched the mark closely. The man looked drunk, his movements getting sloppier by the minute. He stood eventually, wobbling a little as he tossed some bills on the table. None of the women followed. Fourth let out a slow breath, relieved. A kill was always easier without witnesses.
Still, he didn’t make a move right away. He stayed at the bar for a few more minutes, sipping the last of his drink, blending in with the soft noise and music of the room. Leaving too quickly would raise suspicion. There was a rhythm to this work, and he had learned how to move in sync with it.
Eventually, he stood and walked out, calm and composed. He made his way to the elevator, stepping in alone. As the numbers climbed, he rolled his shoulders slightly, loosening the tension that had settled in. When he reached the floor, he stepped out, quiet and measured.
Standing outside the suite, he hesitated. His hand hovered mid-air, fingers clenched around the card key. His chest rose and fell in a slow breath before he tapped the scanner. The door unlocked with a soft click.
Inside, it was quiet. Too quiet.
He stepped in. The lights were low. The air felt still. He moved through the space, past the small sitting area, deeper into the suite. And then he heard it. A gasp. A choked, wet noise.
Fourth’s body moved before his thoughts caught up. He rushed toward the bedroom, and there he saw him. The same intimidating looking man from earlier, now sprawled across the bed, a dark red stain blooming from his chest. His hands were grabbing at the wound like he could keep the blood from spilling. His eyes were wide, panicked, and he tried to speak but only blood came out. Then his hand lifted weakly, trembling as it pointed toward the window.
Fourth turned immediately.
The window was closed, but the latch wasn’t locked. Whoever had been here, they had just left. Maybe seconds ago.
His heart raced. A low buzz rang in his ears. But what stood out louder than anything was a voice in his head.
The voice.
"The trick is to be quick."
Fourth swallowed hard.
His eyes flicked back to the man on the bed, who was still gasping, barely hanging on. Fourth didn’t move to help him. He just stared for a moment, watched him bleed, then turned and walked out.
He didn’t even think. His body moved on its own. He pressed the elevator button, stepped in when the door opened, and hit the top floor.
His breath was shallow now, heart pounding against his ribs. Again, the same voice echoed in his head.
"You need to go to the top to get the best vantage point."
The elevator opened and he ran. His legs carried him through the narrow hallway and onto the fire escape stairs. Up. Up. All the way until he burst out onto the rooftop, lungs burning, chest heaving.
It was empty.
He looked around and for a second, a brief, foolish second, he felt relief. He was alone. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t what he thought it was.
He smiled. Even chuckled just a little, shaking his head, “There is no way,” he muttered, smiling to himself, “I knew it,”
Then he heard it.
A voice. That voice.
“Took you long enough.”
The smile vanished instantly. His body stilled, breath catching in his throat. He turned slowly, dreading what he would see.
And there he was.
Gemini.
Standing there in the rooftop haze, dressed in a pale khaki-brown suit that hugged his frame, a long black coat flowing lightly behind him. His hair fell slightly over his forehead, just messy enough to look soft. He tilted his head the way he always did, eyes calm, a smile playing on his lips.
Fourth’s heart sank. “Gem,” he breathed out, like the word had been knocked out of him.
Gemini looked at him, still smiling. “Fot,” he replied, his tone as light.
Fourth stared at the man in front of him, eyes locked, heart pounding like it was trying to break through his ribs. Every suspicion that had clawed at him for the past week suddenly made sense. All the unease, the signs, the details. It all added up now.
“Did you know?” he asked, voice barely steady. “About me?” he followed up, needing to hear it said out loud.
Gemini’s eyes didn’t waver. “Since the first time I saw you,” he said, calm like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then, softer, almost fondly, “You scanned all the exits in the restaurant before you sat down.” A faint smile tugged at his lips at the memory. “An interior designer with quick reflexes and a shit ton of money doesn’t really add up, you know.”
Fourth swallowed hard. His throat burned, and his eyes began to sting. He blinked, trying to hold it together, but it was already starting to unravel. Everything was crashing in. “Now what?” he whispered, voice low and cracked around the edges.
Gemini didn’t answer right away. He just smiled, small, faint, but enough to hurt. “I think you know,” he said softly.
In an instant, both of them reached into their coats at the same time, and two guns were drawn, aimed straight at each other. No hesitations. No flinching. Just silence and two hearts beating out of rhythm.
Fourth’s chest rose and fell a little quicker now, his lips parting slightly as he panted, fingers tight on the trigger. “Do it,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes were glassy now, tears threatening to spill. His whole body felt like it was screaming, but he stayed standing, frozen in place.
Gemini’s eyes glistened too, the sharp gleam of unshed tears catching in the rooftop lights. They stood like that for a few seconds, guns locked on each other. Then, Gemini exhaled. It was soft, quiet, but full of something heavy. Without a word, he let his gun drop. The clatter echoed across the open rooftop, louder than it had any right to be in that stillness.
Fourth’s brows pinched together in confusion. His gaze flicked down at the discarded weapon before lifting again. “What are you doing?” he asked, voice thinner now, like he was afraid of the answer.
Gemini took a step forward, slowly, no tension in his body, just quiet surrender. “I can't,” he said, giving him that gentle smile again. The one he always gave, the one that felt like home. “If I’m going to get gunned down,” he said, stopping right where the muzzle of Fourth’s gun met his chest, “I’d rather it be you.”
Fourth’s hand trembled harder now. His finger twitched over the trigger again, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull it.
I love you Fot.
He recalled Gemini saying it to him that morning. A tear finally slipped free, trailing down his cheek. His lips quivered as his body gave in, and he lowered the gun slowly, his arm falling limp at his side before the weapon slipped from his fingers and dropped to the ground with a soft, final thud.
He didn’t speak. He just stepped forward and closed the space between them.
Without another word, he reached up and grabbed Gemini by the nape, pulling him in. Their mouths crashed together in a kiss that was messy, desperate, a little rough. Fourth kissed him like he needed it to breathe. His other hand moved to cradle the back of Gemini’s head like it was something precious, fragile, sacred.
Gemini groaned softly into his mouth and kissed him back with equal hunger, one arm sliding around Fourth’s waist, pulling him close. His mouth parted, deepening the kiss, tasting the tears on Fourth’s lips. Their mouths moved against each other, in the way their bodies clung like they’d forgotten everything else.
And then, the sound hit them.
The heavy, thumping spin of helicopter blades cutting through the night.
They broke the kiss just slightly, only enough for their lips to separate. A string of saliva hung briefly between them, breaths mingling, both of them still holding on. Fourth’s hand stayed tangled at Gemini’s nape, and Gemini’s hand gripped his waist.
“Ah, shit,” Fourth whispered, breathless, chest still heaving, “That’s probably the mafia’s guys,”
Gemini glanced at him, eyes flicking from his face to his wet lips, then back again. That familiar grin pulled at his mouth, crooked and calm. “This is the part we run,” he said, and his voice was almost playful.
Fourth let out a breathy chuckle, heart pounding. He reached down and gripped Gemini’s hand tight. “Yeah, I don’t want to miss dinner,” he said.
And just like that, hand in hand, they sprinted across the rooftop, right as the blinding spotlight from the helicopter sliced through the air, sweeping over the spot where they’d stood seconds before. The light carved across the concrete, a blade through the dark, and they vanished into it together.