✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

｡:･ﾟ☆
[ CHAPTER THREE ! ]

I STUDIED the way Finn's chiseled features reflected hollow shadows from the ebony sky embedded in midnight stars; the iridescence gleaming harshly upon his creamy skin.

The group of delirious boys piled themselves up in the trunk as I stayed seated next to the raven-haired boy divulged in a peaceful silence.

A cigarette lazily hung from the corner of his plump damp lips, exhaling wafts of tobacco encrusted clouds within each puff he swallowed.

"Isn't it nice?" His croaky voice finally piped up from the deafening silence.

"What do you mean?" My eyebrow strung upwards in confusion.

"That silence thing, y'know, like, not having the need to fill the atmosphere with bullshit," he explained, "just feeling comfortable to hear the person think—breath even."

I nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, it's nice, I guess."

Finn snickered; his raspy intake of breath engraving itself into my thoughts. "See Mill, you don't like it because you're an uptight little thing."

"Aren't I the same age as you?"

"But age doesn't exactly mean shit; its experience that counts when you've got nothing but yourself." He explained, thrusting the bud of the finished cigarette out the car window to dance with the brisk evening air.

His slender index finger sputtered the radio on. The melody of 'Wouldn't it Be Nice' by The Beach Boys poured into the engraved silence, which caused his scrawny knee caps to bounce to the uplifting tempo.

It was easy to get entranced by the way his jaw reflexed when he adjusted his focus to the vehicle he was driving. My curious eyes rested upon the shape of his shoulder interlocking with his neck, small droplets of sweat soaking into his albicant flesh as though he had been painted in crystals.

"Do I got something on my face or are you sick, Mill?" He smugly chuckled, lips churning upwards cockily.

"I–I was trying to look out the window since I have no idea where we're going." I defended, violently tugging my sleeves as they began to ride up my pale flesh embedded with goosebumps.

"You're real funny, Mäuschen."

"You speak German?" I questioned him as I recalled the sound of his distinct accent violently making my heart to pulse harder.

"A little, I'm half German, used to speak it at home." He answered monotonously, gripping the steering wheel hard enough to blotch his bruised knuckles with pigments of white.

I nodded silently, attaching my focus to my tattered Doc Martens.

Suddenly, the sound of distinct laughter from the trunk thrusted through the seamless atmosphere. It seemed as though it were an echo; like I was in a dreamlike state of conciseness recalling a foreign memory.

"Are you afraid of anything, Mäuschen?" He repeated the nickname with a voice oozed in honey.

"What does that mean?"

"It means little mouse," he beamed, replacing the spot his cigarettes would usually rest upon with a brittle toothpick.

He gnawed the thin material harshly, dangling his grazed arm over the window.

"Finn," I murmured.

"Hmm?" He hummed, thoughts captured in a daydream of some sort.

"I'm afraid of getting caught."

"You didn't actually expect me to let someone like you actually steal with us, right?"

Pigments of crimson coated my cheeks, "I–I thought—"

"I wouldn't actually make you fucking do it, you're too inexperienced," he chortled, "you'd get caught 'nd shit."

"But you said—" I protested.

"Mill, if you think I'd make a stranger that knows nothing about security cameras or how to hold a gun rob a store with me, then I think you need to guide yourself to the nearest mental asylum," he stated in a mocking manner.

"I didn't know I was just going to sit here and watch the fugitives." I sighed. "I can still be accountable as an assist to the crime so you're not really protecting me much from the law."

"No one gives a shit about you getting caught, it's about us covering our own asses," he elaborated, "with an amateur, we'd be fucking screwed."

"Oh, well, I guess I'll just. . . keep w–watch then."

He didn't say anything to me as we inched closer to our destination. The occasional glance still rapturing my heart to an alarming speed despite the lack of conversing.

Finn's truck directed us into an abandoned parking lot. The only sound to be heard were the crickets chirping majestically.

A flashing haematic sign with the words 'OPEN 24 HOURS' glared in our direction as he pulled into the closest parking spot.

The gawky boy grasped a grey face mask with two small holes poking through, bringing it over his angelic features.

It was alarming at first, but became enchanting once I met his auburn irises gleaming with amusement and curiosity.

He pulled a small silver pistol from the glove compartment, re-loading it with bullets. Before exiting the car, he tossed the weapon into a paper bag.

"Mill?" He swished his body towards the open door before waiting for the rest of the boys. "If you get, like, scared, just hide behind your seat or something."

I nodded, thankful of his concern of my well-being. "Thank you."

Soundlessly, he made his way behind the group, bursting through the glass door.

My torso went rigid as I slid down my seat, enclosing my ears with the palms of my hands as I overheard cries for help and buzzing gunshots.

I tried to see my father; his time-worn face always dazzled in a smile, his scent of expensive cologne, and the wrinkles that began to imprint his olive skin towards the end of his days.

The images began to get lost in phosphenes of my vision as the flashes of red burned through my eyelids, tearing me back to reality.

I peered on my knees slowly to find the location of the sirens and blinding flashes, only to be met with the image of a police car racing down the unoccupied road, creating the shrill feeling of electrical currents to pulse to the core of my body.

A/N
Back from hiatus!
I had a bit of writers block, but I tried. Tbh this is kinda mediocre but enjoy it nonetheless.

have a great day!1!1! - n