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Yuno didn’t know why he was here.
Well, actually, he did know why; he just didn’t want to think about it. His gaze scanned the bar, sliding over the poor miserable souls who for one reason or another were also at a bar at 7 in the evening on a random Tuesday, but none of them were that interesting.
That is until he saw him.
Instantly, he brightened. “Ramee!” He ran up to him and Ramee startled so badly he nearly fell off the stool. His fingers tightened on the rim of his drink, and when his gaze found Yuno, it took a moment for his eyes to focus. His mouth twisted downward.
“Yuno?” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Yuno laughed. He slid onto the stool next to Ramee. “I should ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be with Mr. K or something?”
Ramee groaned. “Don’t bring him up right now.” He buried his face in his arms. “I’m here to get away from that annoying bastard.”
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Trouble in hell, more like it.” Ramee forced himself up, blinking hard at the bright lights, and for a moment, Yuno worried he’d fall but he managed to steady himself against the counter. His gaze slid back to Yuno, and he frowned at the drink in Yuno’s hand. “You never struck me as the drinking type,” he admitted. “Or the type that would go to bars, for that matter.”
Yuno shrugged.
“I’ll drink when the situation calls for it.”
Just last week, he’d gone drunk driving up Chilliad. Ramee blinked at him. His gaze traveled from Yuno’s drink and then back to Yuno’s helmet, almost as if trying to determine if Yuno was being serious, and eventually, he laughed.
“What—did you fail a hack or something?”
“Or something.” Yuno looked down at his drink, and Ramee’s eyes gleamed. He leaned in, and Yuno could smell the alcohol on his breath even from the safety of his helmet.
“Oh? Do tell.”
“There’s really nothing to tell.”
Ramee studied him for another moment before pulling away. He blew out a breath, almost pouting. “You’re no fun, Yuno.” He shook his head. “I bet you’ve never had a real reason to get drunk in your life.” The words made Yuno shift in his seat—they were oddly bitter.
He shrugged.
“You know,” Ramee said. “I used to be jealous of you.”
Yuno’s eyes widened. “You–what?”
“You heard me.” Ramee wasn’t looking at him. He was staring down at his drink. “You came into this city with nothing, bright-eyed and hopeful, and by all rights, it should’ve been a massacre. I kept waiting for the light in your eyes to dim, for your laugh to fade, but it never did.”
His gaze slid to Yuno, and Yuno’s mouth went dry. He didn’t like that look. It made him squirm in his seat but Ramee continued, oblivious, “Sometimes I wonder what it’s like.” His voice dropped even as his gaze remained fixed on Yuno. “To be so wonderful, so perfect, the entire city can’t help but throw itself at your feet.” Ramee shook his head. “I tried to understand at first.”
Yuno didn’t like where this was going.
“I wanted to know what made you so lovable, so amazing, that this entire city seemed to worship the ground you walked on, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that there’s nothing special about you.” Ramee laughed then. “Isn’t that hilarious?”
Yuno didn’t know if Ramee was still talking to him.
He was staring down at his drink again, swishing the dark liquid, seemingly lost in his thoughts, and Yuno’s throat felt tight. He wanted to agree with Ramee, wanted to say he’d tried to understand it at first too and had just given up trying after a while. He’d never know why everyone in this city treated him so well—especially given where he’d come from.
“I bet you were coddled as a child too. Given everything you could ever want for, fed with a silver spoon and a golden fork.” Ramee was just talking now, unable to stop himself, the alcohol loosening his lips, and Yuno just listened, growing quieter and quieter the more Ramee talked.
He couldn’t bring himself to say the truth.
The truth that he didn’t have a wonderful childhood like everyone liked to think. Yuno had just gotten better at pretending over the years, better at fooling people into thinking his smile and his laughter were all there were to him, that it wasn’t the result of years and years of careful practice.
Ramee laughed again.
“No wonder you’re so goddamn—soft.” Yuno’s skin prickled. When Ramee said that word, it didn’t sound like a compliment. Not like how some of his friends used it.
He considered leaving.
But then the door opened—followed by a blast of cold air and a familiar figure. The man scanned the bar and immediately made a beeline for Yuno. Yuno watched Mr. Lang approach, unable to find his voice, watching as Mr. Lang’s eyes narrowed at the man next to Yuno.
Ramee looked up.
Their gazes met—and his mouth formed a tiny oh. His gaze slid back to Yuno. “Now it makes sense why you’re here.” He offered Yuno a small, rueful smile and Yuno didn’t have time to digest it because Mr. Lang was there, placing himself between them.
He scowled at Ramee.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Ramee raised his eyebrow. “What does it look like?” He lifted his drink, settling back into his seat, acting like the last five minutes had never happened. “Can’t a man have a drink in peace?” He downed the rest of his glass and stumbled off his chair. “I was just about to leave anyway.”
Lang scowled at him as he staggered away.
Ramee was almost at the door when he stopped, casting an unreadable glance behind him. “You know what, Yuno?” There was something about his voice. Yuno shivered.
“Yeah, Ramee?”
“Don’t change.”
Without another word, he left. Yuno stared at the empty door where he’d been moments before, wondering what had just happened, and Lang’s scowl deepened.
“What the fuck was that about?”
He slid into the stool next to Yuno, the one Ramee had just vacated.
Yuno shrugged. “He’s just drunk. I wouldn’t worry about it.” People said crazy things while they were drunk all the time, and even while Yuno reassured Lang, he knew, deep down, that this was more than that. Ramee had meant what he’d said. He really did believe that Yuno’s life was as easy as breathing, that everything just magically worked out for him.
Yuno let out a humorless laugh.
Lang shot him a look. “What?” he asked, but Yuno just shook his head. He couldn’t explain it to Ramee, and he couldn’t explain it to Lang now. He probably never would explain to them how deeply ironic his current situation was, especially considering the life he’d had growing up.
“Nothing, Mr. Lang,” he said. “It was nothing.”
Lang studied him for a moment longer before shrugging. “If you say so.” He took the drink the bartender offered, tossing it back in one swing. He grimaced afterward. “We need to talk.”
Yuno hummed.
Just to show he was listening.
“You’ve been avoiding heists.” Yuno averted his gaze, and he knew what was coming before Lang said it, “You need to quit G6. That job is fucking ruining you. Ruining us.”
Right.
Back to this same old argument.
“I need my hacker back, Yuno.”
And Yuno needed a drink, but not all of them could get what they wanted. Yuno was painfully aware that even his new situation here was fragile, that it could easily turn back into the life he’d escaped from, and he didn’t want that. He’d do just about anything to prevent that.
Except it seemed quit G6.
“We’re hitting Maze again—tomorrow.” Lang’s gaze found him. “I expect you there.”
Right.
“Is that clear, Yuno?”
Yuno neither confirmed nor denied. He simply took his first sip of alcohol and let it burn down his throat, swallowing the words threatening to burst out of him, because he knew that whatever he had to say wouldn’t be what Mr. Lang wanted to hear.
“Yuno?”
“Yes, Mr. Lang?”
“Did you fucking hear me? I asked if you’re going to be at the bank—”
“I’ll be there.” For G6. Tomorrow.
“Hell yeah, there’s my hacker, baby.” Lang flashed him a triumphant smile, downing another drink, and Yuno tried not to focus on the lump in his throat, on the bitter taste that his conversation with Ramee had left on his tongue and that this conversation had only strengthened.
But the truth was that he was tired.
He was tired of people assuming that they knew him. He was tired of playing the part of the perfect hacker, the beloved Yuno Sykk, when he wanted nothing more than to drown his sorrows and drunk drive up Chilliad again—purely for old time’s sake.
But he didn’t move.
Mr. Lang was still here, and so Yuno was too. It was only after Lang left, claiming he had some paperwork he had to take care of, that Yuno allowed himself to truly drink. He drowned himself in the bitter taste of alcohol so he could forget the bitterness working its way into his heart, the resentment that had slowly but surely found a home there, and Yuno knew, even as he started the long walk back to the apartments, that tomorrow wasn’t going to be fun for him.
But that was a future-him problem.
For now, he walked.
Because at the end of the day, all Yuno could do was keep moving. Keep moving so everything he was trying to forget, every terrible piece of his past, wouldn’t catch up to him.
Ramee was wrong.
The only silver in Yuno’s life had—and would always be—the bullets of a gun.