Heaven's Crime (gxg) ✓

twenty-two. i jumped her bones but it doesn't count because we're dying

                The pilot's name is Tadashi, and he is the one who cut off my sister's pinkie.

                 Beneath the helmet and with that friendly smile, I didn't recognize him. He is still hollering, "Just some turbulence! Everything is completely alright!"

                  The plane tips sideways.

                   "How did they find us?" I whisper. 

                   Veah shakes her head. "This must have been their backup plan. They prepared for every possibility."

                    The parachute is now strapped onto my back, and I am fumbling to figure out how it works. What if it doesn't open? I've seen movies. And books. When the parachute doesn't open, it's a freefall into open space.

                    Best case scenario: I break my legs.

                    Worst case scenario: Veah saves me. Again.

                    How much more of my life can I possibly owe to the very person who is the reason for all this? How much debt am I in to a crazy lethal Yakuza boss?

                    Veah throws opens the emergency exit.

                    "Are you crazy?" I scream, as wind and open sky hurtle into the airplane. Swirling viciously towards us as the plane tilts.

                     I clutch onto one of the velvet seats until the plane rights itself again.

                     There is a bright, wildly cheerful grin on her face. Her eyes glitter black against the storm. "We have to jump now!"  

                     She does not have to sound this excited.

                     "We're going to die!" I scream.

                     The airplane jerks down several feet through the air, and my grip on the seat weakens. 

                     It's safe to say I'm flying. 

                     Midair, halfway to the ceiling―before the plane jolts back, and I stop flying and start falling.

                     Gravity is a bitch.

                     But almost as if she defies it, Veah is there―managing to tether me to solid ground. Her eyes meet mine, and there is smoke within them.

                    She looks like ruin and devastation and self-destruction. She is the storm, and when she kisses me, I become lightning.

                    Her lips against mine are soft. Cherry-flavoured.

                    The taste of her is enough to make me sink into her embrace. Her arms are around me, her hands knotted in my hair, and her mouth moves against mine―desperate and fierce and addictive.

                     I forget about the airplane crashing.

                     I forget about the murderous Yakuza pilot telling us, "It's just a minor disturbance, don't panic!" 

                    I forget about the open window and the parachute on my back and the fact that we are going to Tokyo to fake my death and forge a new identity.