Author's Notes:

Just going to repeat my warning. This is yaoi (boy on boy), so back away now if you have any impulsive urges to flame me…

Chapter Two

"Milk." Into the basket for it. That was simple enough. "Do we need anything else? That milk looks pretty lonely there in the basket..." Izzy was eying the candy section, particularly the very expensive chocolate drops he had had to sacrifice on their meager budget.

"No, no, no. You know we don't have money for that. Just milk. Come on."

Izzy shrugged, following Joe (once again) to the counter to pay, not taking note of the two men entering the store–until one of them stuck a gun to his head.

It was hard and cold against his temple, and he felt dangerously close to wetting his pants. The man behind the gun was heavyset and dressed all in black, with a bright green ski mask covering his face. Izzy could see his eyes through it, though. That man was insane. Izzy didn't move; he could only wonder how one moment he had been admiring Joe's new glasses, and the next, his life was up for grabs.

"Don't move. Don't make a sound. I will shoot you." To his partner, "Lower the shades. Turn the sign over." He sent a grin to Izzy and Joe, who were the only customers present in the store. His voice was hard and ugly, "We're closed."

The other man, dressed similarly, but thinner and masked in brown, moved to do so, aiming his own gun in the general direction of Casey, who looked utterly furious. "You–" Any further words were both cut off and drowned out by the loudest sound Izzy had ever heard. It took him a moment to realize that the sound had been a gunshot, and Casey of Casey's Corner was no more. His body had, mercifully, fallen behind the counter, but a ghastly spray of blood darkened the cigarette case behind the spot he had been standing.

Izzy leaned over and threw up onto the linoleum.

Joe watched all of this with somewhat more clarity than his younger friend, watched as the brown-masked man moved quickly behind the counter to the open register–open because Casey had been ringing them up–and piled bills into a sack. Joe was sweating heavily, but a calmness he wished he had possessed eight years ago had taken him. His most rational thought was that he would not, under any circumstances, let these men harm Izzy.

Green-mask still had the gun pointed in Izzy's direction, and Joe stepped nimbly in front of it, staring down the madman intensely. The gunmen appeared nonplussed, but reached out a hand and gave Joe a shove, sending both he and Izzy to the floor. "Don't move, or I will shoot you. It's not hard to understand." This man seemed frightfully confident,–he had been the one to shoot Casey, Joe now realized–but his partner, adam's apple bobbing wildly, came out from behind the counter looking extremely distraught.

"I got the money. Let's get outta here." He kept shooting glances in the direction of the body, though it could not be seen. Brown-mask almost dropped his gun when the sudden wail of sirens came into hearing range.

Brown-mask's eyes grew wide, "You were supposed to kill him before he tripped an alarm!" He came several steps closer.

Green-mask remained collected still. "We have hostages."

Brown-mask's mouth dropped open, "Hostages? Hostages! It don't matter! Oh, God..." He pulled away, putting his hands to his head.

Outside, someone with a bullhorn began to yell. Joe couldn't make out what he was saying over Brown-mask's ranting. He scooted over to Izzy, who was shaking–deep shakes that started at his head and ran down to his feet. Izzy turned his ebony eyes to Joe, and part of a smile lit up his pallid face. "Guess I should have come alone after all, huh? At least you would have been safe."

Of all the times! Joe was caught between the heat wave he felt at Izzy's concern and the horror at the thought of Izzy being in this situation alone. The combination of these two pushed him to reach a hand out and place it on Izzy's shoulder in what he hoped came across as comfort. He was surprised when Izzy responded by putting his hand over Joe's own, though he continued to look semi-nauseous.

"Get up," Joe found a gun unpleasantly close to his head, and Green-mask shoved it into his skin painfully as Joe struggled to pull himself to his feet. He turned to help Izzy and found that the gunman had already grabbed him roughly, nearly shoving him into Joe's arms. The man gave Izzy a long, leering look, and Joe felt an icy stab of fear.

Green-mask gestured to the other man, "Quit your jabbering and get over here." He pointed his gun at Izzy. "Let's rough this one up and show them cops we mean business."

Brown-mask shook his head fitfully, "We shouldn't do that–"

"Just do what I tell ya. I need you to keep the other one busy." His eyes fairly gleamed, and now it was Joe that came to the understanding that he was a just plain stark raving mad.

Brown-mask, still fretting to himself, and apparently unaware of how far gone his partner was, held a shaking gun directly to Joe's head. Green-mask reached out and grabbed Izzy's shoulder–he gave a small cry of pain–pulling him off to the side, and lifted his gun up in the air, meaning to smash it into the redhead's face.

For a moment, Joe forgot exactly where he was. He was lost in the innocently frightened look in Izzy's eyes–they were raised upwards to the deadly object in the madman's hand, and brimming with tears. It was all Joe could see. The gun pressed to his temple seemed to be lost in the equation. Emitting a sound something like a snarl, Joe leapt forward just in time to take the brunt of Green-mask's blow to the side of his face.

At the same time, several other occurrences took place as well. Brown-mask, in his panic at losing control of his hostage, fired wildly, hitting his partner in the side of the neck. Green-mask, bringing his gun back into position after the blow to Joe's cheek, impulsively–whether purposely or not will never be known–fired his gun, and the bullet slammed into Joe's shoulder. And, as Joe fell to the ground, his eyes wide with shock, Izzy realized that he loved Joe and Joe loved him back.

Izzy dropped to his knees with a sound he would never remember making–something like the mewling of a cat–and unashamedly pulled Joe into his lap. Sticky blood coated his hands immediately, and Izzy trembled at the finality of its color. Joe smiled weakly up at him, and tried to speak, but a thin stream of blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Looking into Izzy's wavering eyes, Joe came to the same conclusion that Izzy had seconds earlier. He wanted to say it aloud, but he just couldn't. A terrible pain gripped him, and he groaned, tucking his head into Izzy's chest.

Izzy muttered something about him being a "damn fool,"–strong words, for Izzy–and something else–"I suppose we know now why we've been arguing so much, don't we?" Joe vaguely sensed the remaining gunman attempt escape, only to run right into the hands of the waiting police. He heard strong footsteps coming towards them, and the last thing he felt before slipping away was the soft touch of Izzy's lips on his forehead.