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10 ↝ that all guns blazing kind of love

there was only one way to put it: they were screwed. big fucking time.

"shit, shit, shit," she could hear yoongi chanting from somewhere on the opposite side of the road, but it was swallowed by another round of gunfire from behind them. she was sure he was keeping pace—he'd always been the faster runner; he'd always won the athletics carnival sprints back in high school with the finesse of a cheetah.

"podnimat'sya!" she yelled, out of breath. go up. they had an arsenal of languages learned fluent beneath their tongues, used to interact in situations like this where the attackers could potentially hear their plotting. the russian-polish combination was their most frequently used.

a moment passed, and she was punched in the gut by a fist of worry, thinking that yoongi had been hit. but then she heard him call, "może być!" from up ahead. okay, that will do. he sounded hesitant, as if she had just asked him to leap off the edge of a cliff, and a smile itched at her lips. he may have been the better runner, but she was the expert climber.

"udachi, pridurok!" good luck, idiot.

"spierdalaj!" fuck off.

and then she was turning down the next street, spotting a low-hanging gutter, and leaping up to it with her hands outstretched. thankfully, the footfalls of their attackers were still racing down the avenue, so she was able to navigate up two stories before bullets were rebounding off the metal fire escape, sounding like giant raindrops hitting a tin roof. she hissed as one grazed against her ribs as she reached for the drainpipe and began to shimmy her way up it, and she was just about to haul herself onto the rooftop when a hand clamped in a vice grip around her forearm.

she looked up, eyes wide with shock. but it was only yoongi, lit up by the moonlight like some shimmering angel of death.

"how—?"

"I'm amazing, that's how," he smirked, yanking her onto the roof. and as soon as she was on her feet, they were running again. a pair of black cats racing through the night.

"this blows," she panted, leaping over the threshold between the two levelled buildings, feeling rather blessed that they were pressed against each other like shoulders in an overcrowded train carriage—though she was no stranger to launching herself over slim alleyways. she noted that the one ahead was at least a metre and a half higher.

"right? for once, I just wanna live in a world where a casual stabbing isn't a big deal," said yoongi, and she cackled.

"or that it didn't result in the mafia pitching a witch-hunt against you? yeah. the feeling is mutual."

they reached the wall and scaled it in unison, grunting and groaning with exhaustion. before she could set off running again, because god knows those soldiers would not let height stop them, yoongi stopped her with a hand around her wrist. his dark hair was wind-mussed, his chest was heaving from exertion, blood was soaking the front of his white button-down shirt, and his eyes were bright bulbs of thrilling light. she knew the expression he bore, so she couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at him.

"god, I fucking love you," he said, completely breathless, and then he was pressing his lips to her own, warm and firm and urgent, yet fleeting as a blink. he placed a softer kiss to her forehead while she smiled.

"like I said," she said, placing a hand to his blood-soaked chest, right above his racing heart, "the feeling is mutual."

yoongi's grin was the mind-blowing, heart-melting kind, made luminous by the silver moonlight. she really hoped they made it out of this alive. he stole a final kiss, and then they were running once more beneath the gaze of the stars like the thieving assassins they were, stealing the dark and making it their own.