[oneshot] start a fire
start a fire. cha&yeol, masterpiece boy au. 1,426w.
It's true that Hakyeon tailed a group of criminals in a barely disguised manner. It's true that he hid in an alley as the sharks did their bidding - breaking in, smashing everything, then leaving one by one, discussing what to eat for dinner - and it's true that, as soon as he thought everyone was gone, he slipped into the apartment through the lockpicked door, toying with his knife distractedly.
Despite that, he wasn't really looking for trouble.
He found it, though, shaped like a gun barrel pressed against his left temple. Alas, what luck he has; his knife is in his right hand. Vulnerable. Perhaps he should have waited a little longer before coming in.
"Who are you?" a deep voice rumbles to his left, and the barrel shakes a little against Hakyeon's skull. He doesn't dare to move his head, risking, instead, a long glance to the side. Tall, but hunched shoulders. Interesting.
"I'm no one," Hakyeon answers with a small smile. "Got the wrong room. Sorry."
"Who. Are. You." A menacing click. Hakyeon doesn't want to take chances with the armed man. "Are you a detective?"
Hakyeon can't help it. He laughs. "A detective? Me?" He turns around to face the stranger, and ends up with the gun pointed to his forehead. Well, at least he can see the man clearly now. Tall, hunched shoulders, long mess of a hair. Eyes dark with menance, and fear. "No, not at all, Mr. Whoever-You-Are. I'm just a pickpocket. A hyena in the food chain of urban criminals." With a click, Hakyeon snaps his knife closed, and curses under his breath. If the man notices he's armed, he's fucked. "The lions pillage and take what they want; I tail behind, and scavenge for the leftovers."
Strangely enough, it seems like Hakyeon's talking is affecting the gunman somehow. Hakyeon had almost forgotten how it felt to gain the sympathy of a fool; it feels good to experience it again at last.
Without warning, the man lowers the gun, and sighs. "Go ahead. It won't make a difference." And turns his back to Hakyeon.
He widens his eyes in shock.
Did... did the loan shark just turn his back to him...?
"How generous," Hakyeon comments carefully, by ways of a 'thank you'. For some reason, he's more anxious now than when he had a gun pointed to his head. No criminal turns their backs to a thief like Hakyeon before making them throw away their knives; it's a mistake not even beginners make. "Not interested in anything here?"
"No, not really," the man answers.
Hakyeon is increasingly alarmed. Who is this man he's dealing with?
With his knife in hands, blade exposed once again, Hakyeon makes his round. He keeps an eye on the man and another on the floor, looking for anything of value, but, the more he looks, the more he realizes staying there is not worth it. They smashed every trinket, every mirror, every piece of china. The best he can do is to grab the kitchen ware and get out of there.
He's going through the kitchen cabinet when the man speaks to him again. "What's your name?"
He halts. His hand hovers over a frying pan, almost new, with only a slight stain near the handle. "I'm N," he says at last, his usual codename feeling strange on his tongue. It has been a while since he has last used it; a while since he last had to talk to another criminal. "What's yours?"
"Chanyeol," comes the answer. "Ah, but that's not my real name, of course." Hakyeon smirks to himself, loving how obvious the slip is. Chanyeol. He likes it.
His bag is full of the best pans he could find in the pillaged kitchen, as well as some dolls from the little girl's room. Upset at how little there is for him to take, he contemplates prying the kitchen sink off and taking it, but decides against it. That's a job for people like Wonsik. Besides, he doesn't have any tools. "Seems like I'm done here," he says, tossing the fabric bag over his shoulder as he walks back into the living room, and he's surprised to find Chanyeol with a gallon in his hands, spreading fluid on the floor very carefully, brows knitted together in concentration. A chill travels up Hakyeon's spine. He has a feeling he should get going immediately. "Uh, I'm off now, Chanyeol-or-whatever-your-name-is. See you around, I guess."
"Wait!" Chanyeol shouts, and Hakyeon freezes, because, remember, he has a gun on him. "Just a second. I'm almost finished. Come stand here, but don't step on the gasoline."
Holy shit, Hakyeon needs to get out of there. He does as told, though, mainly because the indicated spot is near the front door; whenever he finds a chance, he can just bolt the fuck out and never look back.
For the time being, he just watches Chanyeol work; he spreads the gasoline in an uniform pattern on the floor, with parallel lines and right angles, and Hakyeon watches in horror (and mild fascination) as he traces the line into the kitchen, out of Hakyeon's sight. Initially, he's too distracted to realize this is probably the perfect timing for him to escape - and when he finally does, he's halfway turning around when he hears a sound, and smells gas.
"When I say 'go', you open the door, okay?" Chanyeol shouts from the kitchen, and Hakyeon can feel his pupils contract. He's going to die. He and Chanyeol are going to die.
"Listen, isn't this a bit too dangerous?" Hakyeon decides to interfere, using his agility to cross the living room without stepping on the kerosene lines, and invading the kitchen. There he is, kneeling next to the open stove, a box of matchs in hands and a naïve, questioning look in his eyes. Chanyeol, the suicidal pyromaniac. "This is going to explode. You should go to the living room."
"No, but listen!" Chanyeol's eyes gleam as he springs up to stand on his feet - a psychotic, perilous gleam, like an arson inside his pupils. Hakyeon is increasingly aware of the leaking gas and the smell of kerosene. "I start from here; the gas makes the stove explode, and the flames follow the lines - you didn't step on them, did you? - it follows the line, through the living room into the--"
"Just," Hakyeon pulls his arm, forgetting about the gun, forgetting that he's a pawn of one of the most vicious, dangerous gangs in town, and manhandles Chanyeol out of the kitchen. "Let's get out of here."
"N-sshi, stop! It's gonna look pretty!" Chanyeol objects, and Hakyeon wants, needs to scream his head off and wake up from this nightmare.
"I don't have time to teach you physics, just--trust me, and open the door. Don't step in the lines," Hakyeon pushes him towards the door, tearing the matches from Chanyeol's hot, dry hands. "Have you ever done this before, even?"
Chanyeol scoffs. "Duh, of course. I burn stuff down for a living."
"I mean this particular stunt," Hakyeon narrows his eyes at him. "With the stove."
"... no," Chanyeol grumbily admits.
"Of course. No need to thank me for saving your life. Open the door." Hakyeon pulls out a match, and takes a deep breath. It's gonna be the first time Hakyeon has done something this big. All his past crimes were as big as theft and street fights can go; he had never started an arson. Good god. "Okay, here. Do it."
He hands the matches over to Chanyeol, and gets a chill from how Chanyeol smiles as he lights one. The way he looks at Hakyeon with the match in hands - Hakyeon is growing suspicious that Chanyeol might not be human.
"Here it goes~," Chanyeol singsongs, and drops the match. Hakyeon's legs are running before he is.
The explosion sends both of them flying over the railing. Hakyeon takes a pot cable to the gut, and sputters.
"Holy crap!" He hears Chanyeol scream, but it isn't any scream - it's the scream of a teenager seeing a particularly wicked roller coaster. Amazed. Excited. He laughs. "That was awesome!"
Hakyeon is not religious, but, at that moment, he asks God to help him never meet Chanyeol again for the rest of his life.
(Obviously, God isn't as merciful. In the heavens, there is no mercy for criminals.
It's what Hakyeon believes when a week later, they meet again, and again, and again.)
It's true that Hakyeon tailed a group of criminals in a barely disguised manner. It's true that he hid in an alley as the sharks did their bidding - breaking in, smashing everything, then leaving one by one, discussing what to eat for dinner - and it's true that, as soon as he thought everyone was gone, he slipped into the apartment through the lockpicked door, toying with his knife distractedly.
Despite that, he wasn't really looking for trouble.
He found it, though, shaped like a gun barrel pressed against his left temple. Alas, what luck he has; his knife is in his right hand. Vulnerable. Perhaps he should have waited a little longer before coming in.
"Who are you?" a deep voice rumbles to his left, and the barrel shakes a little against Hakyeon's skull. He doesn't dare to move his head, risking, instead, a long glance to the side. Tall, but hunched shoulders. Interesting.
"I'm no one," Hakyeon answers with a small smile. "Got the wrong room. Sorry."
"Who. Are. You." A menacing click. Hakyeon doesn't want to take chances with the armed man. "Are you a detective?"
Hakyeon can't help it. He laughs. "A detective? Me?" He turns around to face the stranger, and ends up with the gun pointed to his forehead. Well, at least he can see the man clearly now. Tall, hunched shoulders, long mess of a hair. Eyes dark with menance, and fear. "No, not at all, Mr. Whoever-You-Are. I'm just a pickpocket. A hyena in the food chain of urban criminals." With a click, Hakyeon snaps his knife closed, and curses under his breath. If the man notices he's armed, he's fucked. "The lions pillage and take what they want; I tail behind, and scavenge for the leftovers."
Strangely enough, it seems like Hakyeon's talking is affecting the gunman somehow. Hakyeon had almost forgotten how it felt to gain the sympathy of a fool; it feels good to experience it again at last.
Without warning, the man lowers the gun, and sighs. "Go ahead. It won't make a difference." And turns his back to Hakyeon.
He widens his eyes in shock.
Did... did the loan shark just turn his back to him...?
"How generous," Hakyeon comments carefully, by ways of a 'thank you'. For some reason, he's more anxious now than when he had a gun pointed to his head. No criminal turns their backs to a thief like Hakyeon before making them throw away their knives; it's a mistake not even beginners make. "Not interested in anything here?"
"No, not really," the man answers.
Hakyeon is increasingly alarmed. Who is this man he's dealing with?
With his knife in hands, blade exposed once again, Hakyeon makes his round. He keeps an eye on the man and another on the floor, looking for anything of value, but, the more he looks, the more he realizes staying there is not worth it. They smashed every trinket, every mirror, every piece of china. The best he can do is to grab the kitchen ware and get out of there.
He's going through the kitchen cabinet when the man speaks to him again. "What's your name?"
He halts. His hand hovers over a frying pan, almost new, with only a slight stain near the handle. "I'm N," he says at last, his usual codename feeling strange on his tongue. It has been a while since he has last used it; a while since he last had to talk to another criminal. "What's yours?"
"Chanyeol," comes the answer. "Ah, but that's not my real name, of course." Hakyeon smirks to himself, loving how obvious the slip is. Chanyeol. He likes it.
His bag is full of the best pans he could find in the pillaged kitchen, as well as some dolls from the little girl's room. Upset at how little there is for him to take, he contemplates prying the kitchen sink off and taking it, but decides against it. That's a job for people like Wonsik. Besides, he doesn't have any tools. "Seems like I'm done here," he says, tossing the fabric bag over his shoulder as he walks back into the living room, and he's surprised to find Chanyeol with a gallon in his hands, spreading fluid on the floor very carefully, brows knitted together in concentration. A chill travels up Hakyeon's spine. He has a feeling he should get going immediately. "Uh, I'm off now, Chanyeol-or-whatever-your-name-is. See you around, I guess."
"Wait!" Chanyeol shouts, and Hakyeon freezes, because, remember, he has a gun on him. "Just a second. I'm almost finished. Come stand here, but don't step on the gasoline."
Holy shit, Hakyeon needs to get out of there. He does as told, though, mainly because the indicated spot is near the front door; whenever he finds a chance, he can just bolt the fuck out and never look back.
For the time being, he just watches Chanyeol work; he spreads the gasoline in an uniform pattern on the floor, with parallel lines and right angles, and Hakyeon watches in horror (and mild fascination) as he traces the line into the kitchen, out of Hakyeon's sight. Initially, he's too distracted to realize this is probably the perfect timing for him to escape - and when he finally does, he's halfway turning around when he hears a sound, and smells gas.
"When I say 'go', you open the door, okay?" Chanyeol shouts from the kitchen, and Hakyeon can feel his pupils contract. He's going to die. He and Chanyeol are going to die.
"Listen, isn't this a bit too dangerous?" Hakyeon decides to interfere, using his agility to cross the living room without stepping on the kerosene lines, and invading the kitchen. There he is, kneeling next to the open stove, a box of matchs in hands and a naïve, questioning look in his eyes. Chanyeol, the suicidal pyromaniac. "This is going to explode. You should go to the living room."
"No, but listen!" Chanyeol's eyes gleam as he springs up to stand on his feet - a psychotic, perilous gleam, like an arson inside his pupils. Hakyeon is increasingly aware of the leaking gas and the smell of kerosene. "I start from here; the gas makes the stove explode, and the flames follow the lines - you didn't step on them, did you? - it follows the line, through the living room into the--"
"Just," Hakyeon pulls his arm, forgetting about the gun, forgetting that he's a pawn of one of the most vicious, dangerous gangs in town, and manhandles Chanyeol out of the kitchen. "Let's get out of here."
"N-sshi, stop! It's gonna look pretty!" Chanyeol objects, and Hakyeon wants, needs to scream his head off and wake up from this nightmare.
"I don't have time to teach you physics, just--trust me, and open the door. Don't step in the lines," Hakyeon pushes him towards the door, tearing the matches from Chanyeol's hot, dry hands. "Have you ever done this before, even?"
Chanyeol scoffs. "Duh, of course. I burn stuff down for a living."
"I mean this particular stunt," Hakyeon narrows his eyes at him. "With the stove."
"... no," Chanyeol grumbily admits.
"Of course. No need to thank me for saving your life. Open the door." Hakyeon pulls out a match, and takes a deep breath. It's gonna be the first time Hakyeon has done something this big. All his past crimes were as big as theft and street fights can go; he had never started an arson. Good god. "Okay, here. Do it."
He hands the matches over to Chanyeol, and gets a chill from how Chanyeol smiles as he lights one. The way he looks at Hakyeon with the match in hands - Hakyeon is growing suspicious that Chanyeol might not be human.
"Here it goes~," Chanyeol singsongs, and drops the match. Hakyeon's legs are running before he is.
The explosion sends both of them flying over the railing. Hakyeon takes a pot cable to the gut, and sputters.
"Holy crap!" He hears Chanyeol scream, but it isn't any scream - it's the scream of a teenager seeing a particularly wicked roller coaster. Amazed. Excited. He laughs. "That was awesome!"
Hakyeon is not religious, but, at that moment, he asks God to help him never meet Chanyeol again for the rest of his life.
(Obviously, God isn't as merciful. In the heavens, there is no mercy for criminals.
It's what Hakyeon believes when a week later, they meet again, and again, and again.)