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Yesterday

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it's been about three or four minutes since brown passed out in the car. mr orange and mr white didn't give a fuck for him, they only cared for each other, so they just abandoned him there. orange was shocked by something, most likely the brutality he was witnessing, and white was busy shooting the cops and then taking care of orange but brown meant nothing to them. they didn't check his pulse, probably didn't even think of doing so. brown knows they left him there, he heard them talking before actually passing out. he could've screamed at them if he hadn't already lost the ability to move and speak. he knows that none of them checked his pulse because he would've felt it. and then he lost consciousness, his body lying loosely on the seat. there were no cops where he was, only the dead bodies in the other car white was shooting at. it was quiet now.

brown gains consciousness back after a while, but he still can't see or move. the blood in his eyes dried while he was unconscious, making it hurt even more and harder to remove it. his body starts trembling when he tries to think of what happened before and he can't help thinking about the worst "what if" scenarios his mind can come up with. what if he's dead and this is heaven? what if he's dead and this is hell? what if he'll never be able to watch a movie again? what if he already got arrested and he's in a police station? what if he'll never recover from his injury? what if-... he has to sort his mind and start thinking straight but it's too hard right now. he tries to relax and think of something else than his current situation, and then he remembers something more important to him than his own life. his body begins shaking and panicking again, not just because he has no idea where he is or what's going on but also he doesn't know what happened to pink. and then he notices the stupid "what if" thoughts coming back, making his mind even more fucked up than it already is all the time. once again, he tries switching his thoughts to something less sad so he thinks of what he and pink did yesterday.

it was the last night before the heist and they wanted to do something fun and not just sit around at brown's place watching shitty movies, so they decided to go out for a walk in town. they had a drink, then went up to the hills. it was pretty amusing, at least it was funnier than most of the nights they spent together before. they talked a lot that day, mainly it was brown talking but that was nothing unusual. the difference was that he didn't talk about movies. well, he did, but not all the time. pink finally had the chance to have a proper conversation with him since he has no idea of films and just pretends to be interested in what he says. pink doesn't want brown to feel bad or dumber than he is, so he gives his thoughts a chance. they stayed in the hills for an hour. brown isn't the most athletic guy, so he had a hard time keeping up with pink when he started walking faster, just to fuck him off. pink has a lot of fun teasing brown and brown loves seeing pink happy, so both of them benefit from it. they were giggling when they got back to brown's place. pink always tried being quiet when he was there since he knew his mom lived there too even though brown told him a thousand times that she won't hear them but still pink wanted to be careful. pink took off his jacket and threw himself on the bed, waiting for the younger man to bring more drinks from the kitchen. he was pretty disappointed when he realised he came back with two glasses of water. "are you fucking serious?!" pink couldn't stop giggling. "we both know you get panic attacks when you're drunk", brown said cold, making the other man stop laughing. he sat down on the edge of the bed next to pink and put the glasses on the small table next to them. "i don't want you to get a panic attack" they stared each other in the eyes until brown started smiling again. pink understood but he wanted to have fun and if he wasn't allowed to drink more alcohol, he had to have another sort of fun. there were many other ways to have fun, but the most fitting in this moment was sex, at least it was to him, so he eagerly started kissing him on the lips. brown kissed him back and climbed into the bed, grabbed his wrists and put them just above pink's head. after a while pink turned his head to the side, his face was pale as hell. "hey, what's wrong? are you okay?" brown was worried about him. when pink didn't answer he let go of his wrists, allowing him to sit up. they sat in the bed, pink stared at the floor, brown tried to look into his eyes again. the older man flinched at the warmth of brown's hand touching his cheek and finally turned his head to look at him. "i'm... i'm just feeling a bit sick, y'know?" pink muttered. he stared at the floor again when brown moved to sit next to him, his eyes already started to tear. the warmth also moved from his face to his back, slowly rubbing up and down to comfort him. brown already expected what was coming next. pink felt that it got harder for him to breath. he didn't want to have a panic attack, not now, so he quickly turned around and threw his face onto brown's wide chest and his arms around his neck. he literally buried himself in his body, started to cry and grabbed his shirt. the only thing brown could do was kissing the back of his head, rub his back and wait for it to be over. "are you worried about tomorrow?" pink quietly asked when he managed to slightly relax himself. "a bit" brown answered sighing. "are you?" pink nodded. "i'm scared that i'll loose you or something." that was probably the most romantic thing pink ever said, but he didn't care. he just wanted to be honest with his feelings for one damn time so he just said it. "we'll maybe need to leave this town, maybe even the state, maybe even the fucking country." he added, almost starting to cry again. brown tightened his grip around pink's hips. "listen, baby. i promise you that i won't go anywhere without you, alright?" the smaller guy started sobbing again while burrying his face deeper into brown's chest. "promise me you won't leave me alone somewhere either." brown sounded scared and his voice started to crack. pink sighed. he didn't want to say this cheesy shit but he still wanted to be honest with his feelings for brown, so he just let it out. "yeah, okay. i promise." brown smiled and closed his eyes. pink felt so warm and comfortable and when his boyfriend started stroking his hair, he suddenly felt really tired and fell asleep in his arms. brown started talking again, something about how he imagines the heist but he also slept after a while, not even finishing his sentence.

that's what he tries to recall in his brain. he can't remember everything in detail or what exactly he told pink but he knew it was somehow like that. thinking of yesterday really helps him sorting out his thoughts and calm him down, so he waits a few seconds more, thinks of pink and then goes back to his current situation. the next logical step was to get out of the car and hide because the cops wouldn't have a hard time finding him if they shew up now. he still can't open his eyes so he moves his hands around to find the door handle. suddenly, he feels his right hand being cut by something. he flinches and starts swearing loudly. the blood runs from his hand down into the sleeve of his suit and splatters all around the inside of the car as he's shaking his arm out of anger. he tries not to scream but he's got to leave the pain out somehow, so he starts kicking and thrashing around, biting his bottom lip. when the pain in his hand decreases, he lets out a soft moan and tries hitting the door next to him with is elbow. at first he hits the window, which is already opened so he just unexpectedly throws his arm out of it, making him even angrier. he groans and hits again, this time a bit lower. now he actually punches against the door, accidentally opening it. he groans again as he almost falls out of the car. after he manages to loosen the seat belt, he leans his body more to the opened door to put his intact hand onto the ground next to him. his body is still pretty numb, so he has to crawl out of the car in a very weird way, his right hand in front of his chest, trying not to touch anything with it to make the pain go away from alone. the second part that touches the ground is his left foot, then the right one.

to him, it feels like an eternity but he has to think before every single move so he doesn't make everything worse. that's what his mom kept telling him his whole life. "you can do anything, just sort your mind out and think before you do or say something" and then she would kiss his nose, but only when he was younger. she stopped kissing him when he was like 14 or 15 years old, but not because it was embarassing to him like it was to other kids his age. she stopped because she felt like he had to grow up and internally, he did grow up even though he sometimes behaves like a child to this day. he talks about the same things in the same way he did as a teenager, his grown up self only comes out when he's in serious situations, and right now, he is in a serious fucking situation.

his upper body is the last thing to leave the car. he moans again as he finally falls to the floor, then uses his left arm to push himself up from the floor. when he realises that he can't get up just yet, he just leans his back against the car and starts thinking again. at first he thinks of pink. he's got no idea where he is or if he's okay. he could be fucking anywhere. the thought of pink being dead or arrested makes him pessimistic so he tries coming up with ideas to find him. he has to get the fucking blood out of his eyes. rubbing over them with his sleeve doesn't help, it actually makes it even worse. but he can't just stay there and wait for pink to find him. this place is still way too obvious. he tries to get up again, this time keeping his hands on the car to not lose orientation. this would be a lot easier if he could use his right hand. he manages to push himself up a few inches, then swears as he falls back to the ground. after two or three attempts he still couldn't get up, he has to find another way. out of frustration, he tries using his right hand. the pain makes him moan and he starts sobbing. maybe everyone was right in telling him he was too dumb and weak for anything. he starts thinking again while crying more. then he could hear his mother's voice in his mind again. "you can do anything, just sort your mind out and think before you do or say something." that's what he's been doing for the last ten minutes. he is fucking thinking. this is the first time in his life his mom's advice doesn't help. this isn't how he imagined the heist. he wanted it to be like in the movies. if his plan came together, he'd already be on his way to mexico with pink. but he isn't on his way to mexico. he's got no idea where he is. as he thinks of all this, he cries harder from second to second. he fucked up. he had one job and he failed. he hates failing.

he can feel a tear running down his cheek and it makes him feel like a total fool. he sighs loudly as he sobs and then gets another idea. maybe the best one he's ever had. the blood will run out of his eyes with his tears when he cries. knowing that, he thinks even more. he's a fucking champion in thinking. he thinks of the kids in school bullying him, he imagines pink in the worst and most brutal scenarios he can think of. of course, he doesn't want to, but he has to cry. and he does. the tears stream down his face, mixed with blood and sweat. brown smiles like a goddamn idiot when he's able to make out a blurred outline of his surrounding. he sighs in relief before attempting to get up another time, this time he actually manages to stand up. his hands keep touching the outside of the car, his legs are weak and still numb but he wants to get away as quickly as possible. he tries walking. at least he was able to see where he is going, if only slightly, but it is enough to not trip over his own feet. his right hand still hurts, he has to release the pressure on it so he holds it in front of his chest again. after a few steps he starts feeling dizzy again. he's now at the back of the car, his left hand can feel the rear window as it glides over the car's body. he waits for the sickness to blow over, stands there and does the same thing he did before: think. think of what's coming next. his eyesight is still very blurry, but he believes to see something that could be a building, maybe a garage or something. if he runs, he can make it there before losing consciousness a second time. his body starts shaking again, his eyesight becomes more blurry. he isn't sure what to do. the risk of trying to reach the building is that he could just break down mid-way. he doesn't have time to think.

he takes his gun from his belt, just in case the cops show up and he has to defend himself. then he gives himself a thrust, as strong as possible he pushes himself away from the car with his left hand and runs, runs towards the silhouette he believes is some kind of building. his steps are still very unstable, he tells himself that he looks like a zombie because he knows how silly he must be looking. with every step he takes, he feels even more sick and halfway through, he feels like he has to throw up and holds his belly with the bleeding hand. again, the way from the demolished car to the building feels like an eternity but when he finally reaches it, he throws his hand onto the wall, almost dropping the gun, just to check if its really or if his mind is playing tricks on him. it is real. he sighs and falls to the ground again, his back against the wall. he's breathing hard, he feels like he just ran a fucking marathon though it's only been about 9 feet. as he observes his environment to check for people, he starts cursing because he doesn't feel better. he thought the sickness would go away if he sat down, but it doesn't. fuck. his whole body shakes once again. he's scared. a panic attack is the last thing he needs now. pink often has panic attacks, and this is what brown imagines a panic attack to feel like when it starts. he pulls his knees up to his chest like a goddamn baby. the swearing doesn't help. nothing fucking helps. he sits on the ground and waits for his boyfriend to come pick him up or something.

his eyelids feel heavy and then he breaks down to the side, his gun falls down in front of him. the last thing he hears is a weird peep sound that gets louder and louder as he looses consciousness. and then there's nothing.