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After the beat up, after the SWAT team came in, after Will left the man he grew to care for, despite telling himself he wouldn't, after, after, after. All his life would ever be is after, now.
Will stepped out of the elevator.
He shed his black gloves and threw them in a metal garage can before striking a match and throwing it in.
The gunshots were echoing in his ears. He saved Zeke. He supposes the police has taken him into custody by now, trying to keep him safe.
He was severely mistaken.
By the time he leaned against the wall to catch his breath, he was pushed against it, held in place by a hand gripping his shirt, one hand pinned against the wall.
"You bastard," Zeke spit, sweating and bleeding and so, so perfect.
He supposes he could've escaped, but he didn't want to. God, the adrenaline was high. He could smell blood, though he couldn't tell if it was Zeke's or his own.
Zeke doesn't say anything, just looks him up and down. He looks tired, more tired than Will feels.
It was just them, in a dimly lit tunnel, Will's pinned against a scratchy wall.
Zeke's leg slowly moved. Honestly, Will thought he was about to be kicked.
What happened was much better.
Zeke's thigh slotted between Will's. They were so close, Will could almost taste him.
"You're a psycho," Zeke says roughly, teasing Will with his knee.
"So fuck it out of me."
Zeke snorts. "That's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said.
"Are you opposing?" Will smirks.
"No, I'll fucking do it, but that doesn't make it any less fucking stupid," he replied, before their lips crashed together in a frenzy.
"Not here, we'll go back to my apartment," Zeke says between kisses, before ultimately shoving Will off of him. "You're supposed to be dead. If SWAT comes down here, you're fucked."
Will follows like a puppy, shielding his eyes from the light when they make it outside.