The sound of his footstep echoes across the empty warehouse and it makes him smile, the loud disturbance. Such a lonely place for a kid like him. Dirty, rusty, creaky. A thousand words to describe the most run down place in town and yet, when he looks around, it's beautiful. A gigantic building positively coated with grime, but it's still here, still standing. A true role model.

He plays with the object in his hand, twirls it around on his finger even though he knows he's been scolded for doing that dozens of times already. 

Waiting is wearing on his patience, not that he had much to begin with. There's nothing to do except walk through the infinite concept of time between every passing minute. Gives him a lot of time to think, and he doesn't like that. Thinking too hard brings complications. Do, and then think. That's how a guy like him should live life.

Too late though. His mind has already him in.

With his free hand, he raises it to his ribcage where, underneath his thin t-shirt, he feels the thick sensation of padded gauze. He smiles as he remembers back then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Gimme." 

Sehun wiggles his fingers at Zitao without even taking the effort to turn his head to look back at him like the condescending brat he is. 

Zitao chuckles, carding his fingers through Sehun's hair as he hands him the cigarette. He jerks his fingers back at the last second, laughing again as he sees Sehun's frustration apparent on his face. He finally gives him the cig, a wide grin on his face.

As Sehun takes a long drag, Zitao wraps his arms around Sehun's waist, pressing his face into the crook of the younger boy's neck and leaving a kiss. He hears (and smells) Sehun let out a long wisp of smoke, curling up into the air before dissipating. 

Zitao waits for Sehun to take another drag of the cig and, just before he can blow it out, he tilts Sehun's head back to meet him for an open mouthed kiss, messy, sloppy, the smoke drifting upwards from the little openings between their lips.

Sehun leans back to press their foreheads together, and he smirks. 

"Smug bastard," Zitao mutters playfully.

Sehun can feel his breath ghost over his jaw, ignoring the tingling jolt it sends through his veins. "At least I don't wear leather pants that stick." He moves his around as if to make a point: the friction between his jeans and Zitao's pants.

Zitao, overcome with a momentary lust, pulls him back into his open legs even further, though Sehun was snug enough as it is, and takes in a deep breath of Sehun's scent. He smells like cheap cologne, smoke, and somewhere beneath the airy coat of city filth, vanilla.

"," Sehun yelps in surprise as he is suddenly jerked back. They've been sitting like this for a while now, Sehun's back against Tao's chest, the two so still that they'd both almost lost blood flow in their legs. The movement brings pins and needles to his lower body, and also something else. "Holy , you're hard now? ing ." He turns around to give Zitao's arm a light slap, though there's no emotion in it.

Zitao retaliates by kissing him, quickly moving on to and nibbling Sehun's bottom lip until the latter has to push him back, panting. 

"Not here, dammit. It's so dirty," Sehun looks around at the street corner, where they've tucked themselves against a brick wall.

"What a princess," Zitao mumbles, kissing down Sehun's neck. "Let's take a walk, baby."

He stands before Sehun can protest off his lazy , and drags his boyfriend up. The air is chilly, though spring is fast ending, and Zitao throws an arm around Sehun's shoulders in a half- attempt to keep him both close and somewhat warm. 

They stroll through the empty streets with heavy, careless steps, swaggering side to side to the music in their head. In the distance, car horns and the bustle of the city play background music to Zitao's mindless humming, random notes and rhythms that has Sehun giggling like an idiot.

Zitao's arm slinks down, his hand gliding over Sehun's back and waist until they meet Sehun's hands, and he twines their fingers together loosely. He brings Sehun's knuckles up to his lips and gives each of them a quick peck in succession.

The wind whips their hair back and their jackets open. In that moment, everything feels perfect. Good. Like nothing could go wrong.

But as soon as the feeling's there, it's gone.

"Wanna go home, babe?" Zitao asks against the back of Sehun's hand.

Sehun doesn't say anything about how he doesn't really like being called "babe" or that he wanted to keep walking. There were a lot of things Sehun didn't say back then. 

He smiles and nods, all the indication Zitao needs to tug his hand and burst into a run, the both of them laughing all the way home as they live off the last of their high.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outside the warehouse, the sun is rising to full stand, high in the sky and beating down its hot rays.

Yes, those were the days.

He kicks off his shoes and settles down on a metal bar. Something of past construction, maybe. It's dusty; he claps his hands together to get the grey specks off of them. They fly off somewhere and Zitao can't see them until they float into the streaming sunlight, drifting off in a million directions. Lost, wandering, but free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He rips off his shirt when they get to their worn down, old apartment, and watches as Sehun skims his eyes over Zitao's expanse of bare skin. Zitao doesn't like to wear clothes at home. Too constricting.

"You like?" Zitao asks, his mouth tilted in a half smile. Teasing.

Sehun places a hand over Zitao's chest, his lips. And then he pushes him back. "Order takeout."

So Zitao does. They eat haphazardly on the kitchen counter, flinging noodles at each other, legs tangled on the table, sharing bites passed between kisses. 

Sehun doesn't say anything about how Zitao doesn't throw away his cartons, instead leaving them all over the room. He doesn't mention how there are dirty dishes in the sink from yesterday, how Zitao won't even leave him alone enough to clean up, how the place reeks of smoke and unwashed clothes. Sehun doesn't complain, because their relationship, though externally stable, hangs on the line.

Zitao is sitting by the window, one leg bent upwards and the other hanging off the side, swinging back and forth. He's having another cig. 

Sehun approaches from behind, thinking of their evening just hours ago. How nice it had been to feel the freedom of their outings, just them, a cigarette, and maybe a pill or two. Zitao loves the cigs more, he likes the pills. 

He crosses his arms, unsure of how to approach the subject he has in mind.

"Zitao, we should talk," he says quietly. He knows how many times Zitao has heard these words, how sick of them he is. They just had a good day, why ruin it with that phrase?

"There's nothing to talk about." He exhales a puff and bites at the smoke in the air. 

"There's always something to talk about. Don't you think--"

"You're thinking too hard, baby." Zitao says through gritted teeth. Sehun can hear it, the way he's keeping his composure. Struggling.

"Look, I know you think everything's all good, but you have to face that it's not like that." Sehun himself is trying to contain frustration too. Zitao never listens. Not when he's like this. 

He's been smoking more. As if Sehun doesn't notice. But he always does; he knows every one of Zitao's little idiosyncrasies. They've been paying more for smokes, and it's all Zitao consuming every one of them.

"There's nothing wrong!" Zitao snaps, and Sehun knows they've both lost it.

"Oh quit it with your ing denial! Look at all the sticks you're burning up these days, dammit Zitao!" He wrings his hands out with his voice, trying to reach past that hard shell Zitao is slowly building for himself out of smoke and weed. "What are we doing? Nothing!"

Zitao takes in a deep breath before responding -- no, make that two deep breaths. He takes Sehun's shoulders in his hands, holding him still. Trying to remain calm. 

"Okay, Sehun. I'll do something, all right? We're gonna do something. Just don't say we're... we're bored. That's the last thing we are, 'kay? Don't say anything, please. Stop."

Zitao runs his fingers through his hair as he watches Sehun storm off in a huff. He takes a drag of the cig, pulling it out of his mouth as he exhales, and looks down at it as he spins it between his digits. There aren't enough of these in the world for him right now.

He joins Sehun in the bedroom a few hours later, already past midnight, and slides in behind him to meet Sehun's curled-up body against his. He nuzzles his nose into the dip of Sehun's nape and brings an arm around his thin body. He can tell Sehun isn't asleep.

"I'm sorry, baby," he croons into Sehun's neck.

Sehun stays silent.

He continues, "I know it. You're right. We've been doing the same crazy since high school, I know. We're gonna fix this, I swear."

Sehun shifts the tiniest bit and Zitao knows he's got him. 

"How?" Sehun asks, barely audible.

"Somehow," Zitao breathes. "I'll find a way."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao racks his head for the next three days, trying to think up a method. A plan.

He starts noticing Sehun deteriorating. Eating less. Sleeping less. Even showering less. He's become a mess, but he's still Zitao's beautiful mess and he's aware that he needs to clean this one up.

Zitao finishes a box of cigs a day before he finally resorts to going the easiest way. He calls up their friend's cell. Because that's what friends are for, right? Being there when the love of your life is slipping away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For so early in the morning, Jongin already looks like a sleazy jerk. All ripped jeans, old graphic tee, and his hair a complete birds' nest on his head. The cigarette in between his index and middle fingers goes in and out of his mouth like a machine operation, never ceasing in its rhythm.

He speaks amid the cadence. "I knew this was gonna happen." He says it like a wiseman, staring up at the waking sky.

Zitao rolls his eyes. "Bull."

Puff. "Well what do you want me to say?" Inhale.

"I want advice like the good friend you are. Or at least, supposed to be," Zitao says, glancing up and down the boy as if to take a good look. He doesn't really have the "friend" appearance to him.

"Dude, does it look like I'm good at this ?" Jongin raises an eyebrow and even Zitao knows he's obviously not. "Why don't you try being the sappy one, you know? All roses and chocolates and romantic comedies and like that."

Zitao takes a long draw on his own cig. His third one today, and it's not even noon.

When the smoke finally disperses into the air, he says, "Dammit, Jongin. You really are pretty damn useless."

Jongin punches his arm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

What is how deeply infatuated with Sehun Zitao really is.

Maybe other guys would just break up once the relationship got dull, but Zitao can't find himself letting go of the entire being that is Oh Sehun. He is beauty, he is freedom and passion, he is carefree and wonderful, he is physically, emotionally, and mentally attractive. He is everything that Zitao is not: stable, constant, and sane. And Zitao needs that other half of him to fill the spot that he's simply not willing to fill himself. 

So instead of leaving, he finds solutions. Stupid solutions, yes, but solutions nonetheless and he rolls with it.

He thinks back to Jongin's words and maybe there's some genius in them after all. Sappy. Typical college age, past-highschool-sweethearts couples. Yes. He could be sappy.

Well, it would hurt him on the inside. But he could do it. Definitely. Totally. 

Maybe.

... He'd at least try.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It takes a few hours before Zitao can work up the courage to ask Sehun to go with him. The more he thinks about it, the more lame the idea is and he can't shove away enough pride to just stand up and ask the stupid question.

He paces their bedroom while Sehun flips through crappy channels on the television.

When he bursts through the door, Sehun glances at him with an uninterested look and that is ultimately what drives Zitao to do it.

"Sehun, go to the movie theater with me."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, so maybe it hadn't quite come out as a question. But the lopsided grin Sehun throws on is completely worth it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Is this your idea of quote-on-quote romantic?" Sehun asks, looking incredulously at Zitao.

"Not completely mine, but I guess so."

Cheapest theater in town. The only place they can afford. Hopefully, it won't be a waste of the thirty bucks they're spending on this dump.

Someone bumps into Zitao as they walk past him and he almost flips them the finger. The only thing that stops him is Sehun's glare as their eyes meet when Zitao is about to exclaim, "What's with these people?"

He puts an arm protectively around Sehun's waist and brings him over to the ticket counter. Sappy romance. Right. They don't look the type though, what with Zitao's ears covered in various metallic piercings and the evil glint in his eyes, and Sehun looking absolutely unconcerned in anything other than sleeping his life away. 

But then Zitao's eye catches the title of the latest action film. Though it had entered theaters ages ago, it's still in this one.

He turns his head to seek unvoiced approval from Sehun. His boyfriend nods with a stupid grin, already knowing what's on Zitao's mind.

He slides the bills onto the counter, the both of them aware how this precious money is being spent. "Two for that one please."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Zitao, look at all the makeup he has on."

"Shh."

"Zitao, oh my god, that blood is orange."

"Shh."

"Babe, that guy can't act for his life."

"Shh."

Sehun gives him an amused look, leaning close to Zitao's face. "Are you actually into this?"

Zitao stares back, pressing their noses together. "I'm trying to watch the movie, baby."

Sehun laughs, loud enough to disturb the few people sitting close to them. Zitao shuts him up with a kiss. "You don't like it?" He asks, eyes still trained on the screen.

"Does it sound like I do?"

Zitao gives a sly smirk. He reaches deep into his pocket and pulls out a napkin bundle. "Take this. I snuck it in."

Sehun unwraps it and gives him a shocked look. "You. Did. Not." He grins and pops one of the pills into his mouth. "You sneaky bastard."

Zitao takes one of the candies too. "Your sneaky bastard."

And Sehun responds with another kiss. 

The movie is forgotten as Sehun lifts the armrest between them and clambers onto Zitao's lap. It's probably a lucky thing they sat in the back. Sure there are people within earshot, but honestly, who gives a ?

Originally "sweet, romantic movie night" turns into a heated makeout session in the back row. 

They leave the theater with messy hair, swollen lips, and, not to mention, a couple wary looks from other viewers exiting the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, all things that go up must also come down.

Sehun finds himself once again annoyed at Zitao's lack of self concern and Zitao becomes irritable at, well, everything.

Yet neither of them can even consider the option of leaving the other.

To their surprise, it is not one that deserts the other to search for the third party solution, but rather the third party solution that bursts through their door, a bottle of cheap beer in one hand, and a grocery bag full of goodies in the other.

"My children!" Jongin shouts, and both Zitao and Sehun regret ever agreeing to give him a spare key to their apartment in the first place.

However, it is spectacular timing that Jongin does have up his sleeve for Zitao and Sehun are bent over and leaning towards each other, seconds away from shouting each other's faces off only to do make-up nights later. And that includes exactly what it sounds like it does.

They freeze in their poses, giving Jongin equal looks of disbelief. 

"What do you want?" Zitao snarls. 

Jongin rolls his eyes so dramatically, he even spins his head around once. "It's been like a week since you guys saw that movie. C'mon baby, magic is bibidy-bobidy-boo only until midnight! I totally called this would happen," He grins a nasty half-smile as he waves at the scene in front of him. "We're going out."

Sehun stands up straight. "Excuse me?"

"We're all going to be crazy bastards all night long and you two are gonna do crazy like you always used to! It'll be great, trust me. We got the van ready outside and a couple o' the guys. You remember Junmyeon and Yixing? Hell yeah, let's go party!" He tosses the beer bottle at them, which Zitao barely manages to catch in his hands.

", Jongin, you psycho bastard."

Which basically translates to: let's ing go already.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao raises his bottle to Jongin as the latter slams his foot down on the table in the middle of the karaoke room. Props to him for belting out angry Three Days Grace songs while Junmyeon and Yixing are ing on the sofa next to him. In fact, one of Yixing's hands is threading into Junmyeon's messy blond hair while the other is pushing up his boyfriend's blue-grey t-shirt, revealing a wide strip of pale skin. 

He feels Sehun shift next to him and looks over to see the boy staring at Jongin's performance with amusement. As much of a good singer, Jongin is, he's a damn emotional drunk. Zitao smirks when the song is over and snatches the mic from him. 

"Sit down, drunk boy," Zitao says, patting Jongin's back roughly and stepping up onto the table. Junmyeon finally lays his hands off Yixing's hips and to sit back with his arm strung around Yixing's shoulders and watch Zitao. Yixing is panting, taking a sip of his beer and asking Junmyeon for a cig. They look satisfied for the moment, though. All of them don't have enough alcohol in their system to witness each other in heat yet.

He picks his song and beckons Sehun to stand. Sehun's a little stubborn, but gets up anyway to cross his arms by the table. Zitao cups Sehun's chin in his hand as the song starts playing.

"She had a face straight out a magazine," he begins, smirking and drawing Sehun's face closer. The younger visibly lightens up, almost laughing at his music choice.

Between lines, he takes swigs of beer until his head gets fuzzy and his body can hardly stay up. He loops his elbow around Sehun's neck and pulls him in for a sloppy kiss while their friends whoop and holler behind them. He pulls back only to keep singing.

With every breath, he leans closer and closer to Sehun, smiling and flashing white teeth at him. 

"We'll give you one more fight." He leans so far, he topples from the table onto the floor in a giggling heap. Sehun trips over his foot and falls over him, and he slams their lips together.

Of course, drunk stupor leads to overdoing a lot of things, including makeout sessions in front of their friends. Then again, perhaps it is Junmyeon, Yixing, and Jongin's cheering that eggs them on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Going out to clubs and bars every week helps them gain back that childish edge from the of their young love, but it also takes a toll on their wallets.

Eventually, they're going through the motions.

Party, live through the week on smokes, pills, and alcohol, fade off a little, go back to the party.

They can't keep going on like this forever.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The worst of it comes a little over a month after Jongin's first intrusion.

Shouts echo into the night, through the thin walls of their apartment. The neighbors are too scared to say anything, to interrupt.

"I can't ing stand you anymore!"

"Shut the hell up! As if I can take your nagging all the time anyway!"

"Oh please! You're such a sleazy bastard, you know that?"

"Yeah? Well if I'm that, then what the does that make you!"

"Maybe we should just ing break up!"

Dead silence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sehun and Zitao have been together since high school. Never once, through their ups and downs, have they ever thought of leaving each other.

They always think of other ways to fix themselves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems like an eternity before Zitao finally snaps out of his shock to react.

And then... words. Words quiet enough not to breach the world outside.

In front of Sehun's very eyes, his boyfriend, a grown man who's been through all the rougher sides of life, crumples. Trudges the two steps to hold onto Sehun's shoulders and hang his head low. 

And tears. Dry sobs. Droplets that threaten to fall. The boy who never cries, crying. Sehun can't believe it.

Zitao's voice breaks as he says, "Please... forgive me. I- I can't. We can't. I'm sorry, Sehun. I love you too much."

 

 

 

 

 

 

The apartment has never seen such quiet days. 

Zitao is alone in their living room, smoking his fifth cig of the day. He flips through channels on the tv. Sehun is out.

Sehun is never out.

He settles on an old action film. Guns, shooting, thieves, deaths.

He needs a plan.

Something unusual.

Something abnormal.

Something new, and different, and exciting. Something to send a chill down spines, and a jolt through veins, and a heat to the tips of your toes. 

He needs his own gun. His own thievery. His own taste of death.

No, they need it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Why are we here?" 

Zitao can hear the discomfort in Sehun's voice. They haven't talked a lot in the last week and a half, but that'll change soon. Yes, everything'll be different.

He spreads his arms out and does a spin, taking in the state of the empty alley. There's a package on the ground by his feet. He kicks it over to Sehun.

"For us."

"From Jongin?" Sehun asks, picking it up and staring at the small label on the top.

Zitao nods. "Open it."

He does.

It's a gun.

"Holy ," Sehun gapes at the object, and then at him, before quickly shoving it into his arms. "Where did he--? But how? And why?"

Zitao walks up, slowly and deliberately. It almost sends fear through Sehun; he wants to take steps back to match with Zitao's. Zitao grabs onto his shoulders. "Babe."

Sehun doesn't say anything.

He gets straight to the point. "Let's rob a bank."

Sehun blinks multiple times before responding. "What? Are you crazy!"

"Yes," Zitao says, and he grins. "And so are you." He takes Sehun's hand in his and brings it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles. "We're bored, baby. No thrill in our lives. No danger. We're too far from the edge."

"I don't see what that has to do with robbing a bank."

"It's a plus. We could take on any place you want, but face it, we need the money too."

Zitao sees Sehun gulp. But he's too far out to take back the suggestion. It's yes or no. Live or die.

"Okay."

Zitao is taken aback. But then he smiles. "Okay?"

"For us. Because we need it."

Zitao leans in quick to slam their lips together, kissing deeply and fiercely, all the while laughing. "Yeah, we do. Thanks, Sehun. Let's do this right."

And Sehun cups Zitao's face with his hands as he kisses back. "Let's."

 

 

 

 

 

 

"I'm nervous." Zitao can tell. Sehun's hand is shaking in his. 

The van bumps along the road, Jongin in the front steering, and Yixing and Junmyeon in the back with them, loading up their guns.

"I know. Baby, don't be," He says through the bandana tied around his head, blocking his mouth and chin from view. Sehun, likewise, wears a bandana loosely around his neck, more for fashion choice than any effort to hide his identity. He kisses Sehun, trying to take all the nervous energy from him. 

Yixing is chewing on his nails. Jongin hits the brakes. Junmyeon buries his head in the crook of his elbow. 

"We're here," Jongin says, monotone, not bothering to look over at them.

Sehun still seems jittery. Zitao opens the door for them and they jump out.

He slides the door close and pulls Sehun into his arms.

"Don't be nervous. Don't be nervous. Do this for us. For our state of living, and all that. For... for... for our love. Smile, baby." A peck on his forehead. "We can do this." He pulls back to nudge their noses together and smile.

Sehun finally smiles back, letting out a breath. "Okay."

With grins, they practically skip into the small bank building, hand in hand. Spirits could be higher, but they're ready all the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jongin waits nervously for what seems like hours in the front of the van. Sure, his friends are , but he needs them. Even Junmyeon, the ever placid and emotionless one, is biting on his bottom lip, his fingers clutching at Yixing's desperately.

And then, his worst fear.

A gunshot resounds into the air.

He'd given them the guns, yes. He just never thought they'd actually use them. .

Another two gunshots. What the is going on in there?

He looks over right as the doors to the bank swing open and Sehun and Zitao come stumbling out, Zitao supported by an arm around Sehun's shoulders.

He hears Yixing shout out, "Holy !"

The three of them work to open the door and pull the both of them into the back, the sounds of the bank alarm behind them as Jongin jumps back into the driver's seat to get their quick escape in action. 

He'll leave those two to Yixing and Junmyeon. For now, they all need to get away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao sees his life flash before his eyes.

From being beat dirty as a grade schooler, to the principal's office in middle school, to smoking in the smoking corner in high school and meeting Sehun, to now. And then beyond. 

He sees himself die young, Sehun crying over his body as he smiles up and tugs his head down for one last kiss. 

Then... all the sound returns to his head.

His friends screaming around them, Sehun telling him to "get the hell up" and "don't you dare ing die now, you bastard!" His hand is over Zitao's wound, a bloody hole somewhere near his ribcage. 

He cringes at the pain that shoots from the bullet wound. A silent cry tumbles out of his mouth, not unheard by the others.

Someone shoves a cigarette into his mouth. "Breathe, man. Breathe." All his senses are blurred; he can't even tell who says that. 

So he inhales. And then he drags out the smoke.

His vision is starting to get blurry, black along the edges. Grey wisps in between. Thicker, cloudier, opaque.

He falls unconscious, a white noise all around him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a truly ty day. His elbow was on his desk, his chin in his hand, a piece of gum fast losing flavor being chewed between his teeth. He couldn't take it anymore. When would he ever use these... these... equations and rules and symbols? Never, that's what. And he had no plans to ever use them.

He raised his hand.

The teacher looked up from the front board. "Yes, Zitao?" He lifted an eyebrow.

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

"Sure," the teacher agreed after a moment. "Spit out your gum first."

He didn't spit out his gum. He didn't go to the bathroom. He also didn't come back.

Zitao figured there wouldn't be anyone at their high school's smoking corner at this time of day. Even before he made it there, he was already pulling out a cigarette and his lighter. He shoved the stick between his teeth and raised the lighter to the end. 

He froze before the ember could reach his smoke. 

"Um, hi?" The kid leaning against the brick wall said, his face screwing into an expression that read why are you here? He took a drag of his own cig.

"Hey?" Zitao replied, lighting his stick and shoving the device into his pocket. He looked the boy up and down. Messy blond hair, thin as a stick, all long limbs and slightly toned muscles. His skin was pale porcelain, his eyes had a mischievous glint, and his tongue darted out to run over his upper lip. 

He was beautiful.

Zitao smiled. "And you are?"

"What's it to you?"

"Feisty." He stuck out a hand, walking up to the boy. "I'm Zitao. Huang Zitao."

The boy shook it once. "So?"

"I think you're something special." He leaned so close, their noses were almost touching. The boy didn't even flinch. "So what's your name?"

"Sehun," he said. "Oh Sehun."

"Oh Sehun. You're beautiful."

A dusting of pink spread across Sehun's cheeks to the tips of his ears. "Wha... what?"

"I said you're beautiful, and I'd like to make you mine."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao awakens with a groan in their apartment.

"Oh my god, Zitao? Are you awake? , , . Uh, does it hurt? Do you need anything?"

He laughs at Sehun's frantic worrying, all the more endearing than he ever found it. Blindly, he reaches a hand up to cup Sehun's face. Sehun guides his hand to his cheek. 

"I saw death," he tells Sehun with a dumb smile. "I saw death and he kicked me out." He rubs his thumb over Sehun's smooth skin. 

Sehun manages a single laugh, a tear dripping down from the corner from his eye. Zitao swipes it away.

"You ing idiot. What were you thinking?" He drops his head onto Zitao's chest. 

Zitao just keeps smiling and his hair. "We're here, aren't we?"

To his surprise, Sehun perks up and kisses him, pressing into his lips, breathing life into him. Zitao eagerly nibbles and bites back. 

"You idiot, why do I like you? . Who am I kidding. Why do I love you?"

Zitao wants to cry too. "Baby, I love you too."

Sehun climbs onto him, straddling his hips and never once releasing the kiss.

"Oh god," Sehun says. He's a talker when he's relieved, this one. Zitao smiles. He knows that best. "What was I thinking. I regret ever saying we should break up, okay? If only I hadn't, you wouldn't have this-" he hovers his hand over the bullet wound, now covered in a white gauze, "-and... Oh god, I'm so sorry. God knows I can't live without you."

Zitao laughs, propping Sehun up to tug his shirt off. 

Clothes are flung into the corner. Lips and hands explore bare skin. The ground is cold behind Sehun's back, but Zitao's warmth balances everything and his world is righted.

It's ages before Zitao says anything back.

"We have forever, baby."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zitao and Sehun have been together for years.

A possessive infatuation that binds them together wherever and whenever. A red string knotted between their two left pinkies, a little worn and torn in the middle, a little browned and bloodied on the sides. 

They fight, they cry. They fill each other's heads with regrets and guilts, and their hearts with aches and cracks.

But they never leave each other.

Sometimes they lose their touch, but that's okay.

They have a solution now.

The sound of a footstep echoes across the empty warehouse. It snaps Zitao out of his reminiscing daze.

"Ready?"

Zitao closes his eyes, breathes in, takes in the low hum of Sehun's voice. It tugs on the corners of his mouth.

He turns around and almost jumps back when he sees Sehun's face directly in front of his. The shock has them both chuckling. He smiles and gives Sehun a peck on the lips.

"Ready," he answers against the kiss.

Sehun smooths his hand over Zitao's, whose fingers rest loosely over the trigger of the gun in his hold. "I hope you don't need to use that again."

"We all hope so, baby." Zitao cups Sehun's face and pulls him in for another kiss.

"Jongin and them are in the van outside," Sehun informs him. Second gig had found their three companions more than reluctant to join up again, but this time, it had them chorusing yes's.

"Perfect." Zitao knows what it means for their friends to come with them. 

He locks their fingers together and they stride towards the door, in complete ease. Not like the first time. No jitters in Sehun's hand. No trembles in their knees.

Sehun takes a second to brush a strand of hair away from Zitao's eyes. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Zitao smirks. "I know. We both are."

And before pushing open the door of the warehouse, Zitao stops, and presses their foreheads against each other. 

"You're beautiful," Zitao croons. "You're beautiful, and you're mine."

"And you," Sehun says, his fingers tracing the outline of Zitao's scar from over his shirt as he fixes his hem, "are mine."

His voice sounds like an ache, quiet and meaningless words that make Zitao want to laugh. 

"Come on." He pulls on Sehun's hand, already anticipating Jongin's impatient irritation. "Third time's the charm."