The brush seemed to glide across the canvas on its own.
Isaac constantly compared his copy to the current original piece he had completed just a few days earlier. After all these years, the whole process was like riding a bicycle for him, and it wasn't really difficult to replicate his own style.
A dull pain ran relentlessly through his leg. The wound throbbed with every slightest movement, as if reminding him that his body could not keep pace with his ambition. But taking a break was not an option yet. At the very least, the basic forms of the figures had to be in place before he could allow himself to pause.
After that, he could rest a little. Fortunately, he didn't have much left to do.
Normally, he would have reached this stage long ago, but the gunshot wound had pushed everything back. Instead of being able to paint for hours in peace, he now had to take breaks—quite a lot of them, thanks to the past week.
Even so, he was surprisingly well on schedule. Perhaps it was because his daily life had changed completely. The café was gone, his usual routine had disappeared. The injury was a nuisance—no question—but it also brought with it a strange, almost cynical advantage: time. Time he otherwise would never have had.
However, he knew very well that he hadn't achieved this progress alone.
Without Noctis, none of this would have been possible.
Noctis took care of everything Isaac currently couldn't. He helped him shower, get dressed, brought him to the studio, and made sure he could work there undisturbed. After that, he would usually disappear, taking care of groceries, cooking, doing the laundry, and keeping the household running. A quiet, reliable presence in the background that gave Isaac the space to focus entirely on his work.
This allowed Isaac to work in long, uninterrupted stretches most of the time. Noctis usually only interrupted him when he had been sitting in front of his canvas for too long. Living together with him was going far better than expected. If anything annoyed Isaac, it was only that he was often forced to take breaks just when he had found a good flow.
With a soft exhale, he set the final brushstroke and let his arm drop. For a moment, he simply sat there, studying the result before slowly leaning back in his chair. A faint, satisfied smile flickered across his face.
He was almost finished.
The silhouettes of the figures were in place, the background was fully developed, even the finer details had already taken shape. Once he completed the characters with the necessary level of detail, he would only need to add a few minor highlights.
So despite the gunshot wound, he would be finished in time for the heist.
He was still uneasy about the heist. His gunshot wound wouldn't have healed by then and would definitely slow him down. Noctis would be coming along, but Isaac had his doubts that he'd really be able to help against all those cops.
Still, there was no one he trusted more than Noctis.
He closed his eyes briefly and took a breath. It would work out. He just had to grit his teeth and see the job through—like he always did. And he had been through far worse situations.
"Are you finished, darling?"
As if he had summoned him, Noctis suddenly appeared behind him—quiet as ever, like a cat. He kissed Isaac on the cheek.
"I just finished," Isaac replied, leaning back against his lover.
Noctis studied the canvas, raising his eyebrows slightly. "You're almost done."
A faint smile formed on Isaac's lips.
"The copy is always finished faster than the original."
"If I draw stick figures, it's that fast for me too."
Isaac raised an eyebrow slightly and gave him a skeptical look. "Can you even draw anything else?"
"No," Noctis replied without hesitation, a wide grin on his face. "As you know, I'm hopeless at anything related to art."
A quiet laugh escaped Isaac. "Then I'm really glad we're not going through a portal you painted, but through mine. I have no desire to go blind before the heist just because I had to witness a visual atrocity."
Noctis snorted in amusement. "You underestimate my stick figures."
"Save them for your torture sessions. They're probably more effective there."
A soft, warm shiver ran down Isaac's neck as Noctis leaned in and playfully nipped at his skin with his teeth. He wasn't wearing a choker at home—there was nothing he needed to hide from him.
"Looks like you're feeling better if you can already be this cheeky," Noctis murmured close to his skin.
Isaac ran his hand through the dark hair. "It's been a week. If I felt worse, something would be wrong. Strangely enough, I feel fine—apart from the pain and the fact that I still can't walk on my own."
"Healing takes time," Noctis replied, straightening up and briefly studying him. "Speaking of which—I wanted to take another look at your wound before the others arrive. Let me help you up."
Isaac gave a short nod. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. Noctis held out his hand and helped him to his feet. The moment Isaac shifted his weight onto the injured leg, a suppressed groan escaped him.
Noctis didn't comment.
Isaac knew both his opinion and his anger about the whole situation. Not just about the incident that had caused everything to spiral and left him injured—he could still vividly remember how furious Noctis had been after reporting it to the boss.
And beyond that, he knew exactly how Noctis felt about the upcoming heist, given Isaac's condition.
"Can you manage?"
Isaac gripped him a little tighter until he found his balance, then nodded.
"Better than yesterday."
Noctis wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, steadying him without another word. Isaac let his head rest against him for a moment—just briefly. The sudden bouts of sweating with every movement were something he could have done without.
Together, they went into the bedroom.
Noctis had already stacked several pillows on the bed so Isaac could lean back in a half-upright position. With careful movements, Isaac pushed his sweatpants down from his hips and sat down, making sure not to put unnecessary strain on the injured leg.
Noctis carefully removed the bandage, his expression more than satisfied.
"Looks good," he said. "The wound is healing cleanly. If you want, I can leave the dressing off—it's dry."
Isaac made a slight face. "Please. These damn adhesive edges are driving me insane."
"Your skin is just too sensitive," Noctis remarked. He reached for another bottle—slimmer, darker than the one with the disinfectant—and let his gaze sweep over Isaac. "How bad is the pain?"
Isaac shrugged slightly. "Dull. Unpleasant, but much better lying down than when I'm walking."
Noctis gave a short nod. "Do you think you can handle a bit of pressure?"
Isaac looked at him cautiously. "Depends on what you're planning."
"I'm going to massage your leg. The way it is now, you won't even be close to being in shape for the heist."
He opened the bottle, poured some of the oil into his hands, and rubbed his palms together.
"I usually use this oil myself when I get injured," he explained casually. Before touching Isaac's leg, he looked at him intently. "If it hurts, say something. It'll probably be uncomfortable."
Isaac leaned back.
"You're not going to hurt me," he said with a soft smile.
Noctis didn't respond. Instead, he carefully positioned himself over Isaac's injured leg without putting any pressure on it. His hands were warm as they wrapped around Isaac's lower leg.
Slowly, he began to loosen the muscles—precise and controlled, applying noticeable pressure at exactly the right spots. At first, far enough away from the wound that the touch felt surprisingly pleasant.
Isaac exhaled quietly.
Of course it felt good.
His gaze lingered on Noctis without him noticing. The slightly open shirt revealed his chest, dark lashes casting faint shadows on his skin. Isaac loved being able to watch him like this—his features were as defined and pleasing as a painting.
Noctis' hands moved gradually higher. Over the knee, further up, until they neared the injured area. Isaac flinched briefly, tensing on reflex, then forced himself to relax. The pain was there, but with each movement it became more bearable.
Until that moment, he hadn't even realized how tense his body was. Not just his leg—his glutes, his hips, and his lower back were tight as well. The injury had completely changed how he carried himself, and his body readily gave in to the massage.
Isaac closed his eyes and simply enjoyed it. It would be nice if Noctis kept going, taking care of his whole body. The pain dulled, soon reaching a level he could easily ignore.
"Damn… where did you learn that?" he breathed at last, his voice noticeably more relaxed.
A faint smirk touched Noctis' lips. "You like it?"
Isaac nodded slowly. "It feels unbelievably good," he sighed. Then he opened his eyes again and looked directly at him. "You do so much for me that I almost feel bad. Can't I do something for you too?"
Noctis paused. His golden eyes fixed calmly on Isaac as a faint smile formed on his lips.
"I don't expect anything in return from you, Isaac. As long as you get better soon and we can finally go back to doing what we actually want, I'm satisfied." Then his smile shifted into a mischievous grin. His hand slid to the side, slipping into Isaac's underwear. "But if you insist on doing something for me, I'm sure I'll think of something once the others are gone."
Isaac's breath caught for a moment. A brief, unbidden warmth spread through him.
"Just so you know…" he murmured, slightly embarrassed, "sex is probably not happening."
Noctis leaned forward slightly and pressed a fleeting kiss to the inside of his thigh. Even that soft touch sent a tingling sensation through Isaac's body, the desire for more rising with it.
He seemed about to respond—
Then the doorbell rang.
Noctis froze, exhaled audibly, and slowly straightened up again. A hint of irritation flickered in his expression.
"That shrimp really has terrible timing."
He grabbed Isaac's sweatpants and helped him pull them back on—not without a brief, knowing wink.
"We'll continue this later."
Isaac swallowed, as if the room had suddenly grown warmer. "Okay."
Noctis lifted him off the bed and carried him calmly over to the couch, setting him down. Isaac stared at the table. He hadn't looked at it before, but contrary to his expectations, there weren't just snacks—there was alcohol as well.
The doorbell rang again.
Isaac looked at Noctis in disbelief. "What the hell are you planning?"
But Noctis didn't really respond to the question. Instead, he was already heading for the door, a sly grin on his lips.
"Just a small break from the stress."
That made it clear that Isaac's plan to work on his painting a bit more after the meeting was probably off the table.
Isaac sank deeper into the couch and closed his eyes for a moment. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of finding some way to escape the situation—but just as quickly, he dismissed it. There was none.
So he resigned himself to it.
He couldn't simply get up and continue painting, nor could he slip away unnoticed. Of course, he was free to send them all home at any time if it became too much. But whether Noctis would let him back into the studio afterward was more than doubtful.
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the door flew open and Noah stormed into the room with his usual overflowing energy. The moment he spotted Isaac, he rushed over and pulled him into an uninvited hug.
"Isaac!" Before Isaac could even react, Noah had already let go again and looked him over with open concern. "Constantin said you were hurt. How are you?!"
"I'm fine, Noah," Isaac sighed softly. Almost automatically, he ran a hand through his hair. "Stop worrying."
Only when Noah looked at him in surprise did he realize what he had just done. Physical closeness had never been something Isaac initiated. If anything, it was always Noah who crossed that line without hesitation.
"You got shot—how am I not supposed to worry?!" Noah shot back, agitated. "How did that even happen? No one ever tells me anything."
And that's for the best, Isaac thought quietly to himself.
Noah had a habit of involving himself in other people's affairs, and more often than not, he ended up complicating things—or dooming missions from the start. Isaac had experienced the effects of his "help" often enough firsthand.
And yet Noah was only a few years younger than him. Still, it remained a mystery to Isaac how someone in their world could remain so unshakably childish.
Isaac himself had learned early on to stand on his own two feet. Too early, perhaps. The harshness of life had forced him to grow up faster than it should have.
In the past few weeks, so much had happened that he found it increasingly difficult to see Noah as anything other than the naïve boy he was. Noah wasn't even twenty yet. In a way, he deserved to be protected—at least for a little while longer.
Isaac exhaled slowly.
What the hell are you thinking about again, Isaac? Focus on yourself. Noah will be fine. You, on the other hand, are already a wreck—and the heist hasn't even started yet.
"Nothing vital was hit," he finally said calmly. "I'll be back in shape by the time of the heist."
Though he couldn't even say for certain whether he would actually manage the heist. Ashe stepped up to his right side, looking just as concerned.
"You look even paler than usual. I didn't even know that was possible," she muttered before pulling him into a brief hug. "I'm glad you're still alive."
Isaac let the embrace happen and sighed quietly. "You're all worrying too much."
Ashe pulled back and fixed him with a sharp, reproachful look.
"Of course we're worried!" she snapped. "I only found out you were hurt through Noah! Why the hell didn't you contact us? At least one of us?!"
Isaac blinked.
She was right. He hadn't told them anything. But what would it have changed? It wouldn't have improved his situation, nor undone what had happened. His gaze moved over the faces of his teammates.
So why does this feel so wrong?
Because I've gotten used to them—no matter how annoying missions with Noah can be.
He let out a quiet breath.
"Sit down," he said at last. "I'll tell you what happened."
What else was he supposed to say? Apologize? He wouldn't even know what for—and it didn't feel appropriate in this situation.
Ashe crossed her arms but relented. "Fine. But I want every detail."
Noah, on the other hand, sat down right next to Isaac without hesitation. Only after sitting did he glance at him uncertainly.
"Is it okay if I sit next to you?" he asked quietly.
Isaac hesitated for a moment, then gave a short nod. "It's fine."
"Do you want something to drink? I got everything for cocktails," Noctis called from the kitchen.
For a brief moment, everything almost felt normal.
Isaac made a face. "I don't want anything sweet," he muttered at first, but then paused. There actually was one cocktail he could tolerate. "Can you make me a mojito?"
"Of course, darling," Noctis replied, sounding pleased.
Less than ten minutes later, everyone was taken care of.
While Noctis had been busy in the kitchen, Isaac had told them what had happened—leaving out Levi. He neither wanted to think about the guy nor explain why he was such a sensitive subject for him.
The more he spoke, the quieter Ashe became. Noah, on the other hand, grew increasingly restless with every detail, his tension evident in even the smallest movements.
Isaac briefly considered going into more detail about the boss's reaction. In the end, he dismissed the thought. It didn't matter. So he simply told them that the boss had been angry and that the heist would proceed as planned. In the same breath, he assured them that he would be fit again by then.
When he finished, the two of them stared at him in disbelief. Noctis had taken a seat to his right and hadn't said another word on the matter. There wasn't much left for him to say—he had already made his opinion clear to Isaac.
Ashe rubbed her face in frustration.
"That bastard," she growled at last. "How can some stupid piece of art be so important that it absolutely has to be stolen on that exact date?" She let out a quiet snort. "It's not like the cops will have an easier time catching you with that injury or anything."
She bit down angrily on her straw and drained her Sex on the Beach almost in one go.
"I've had enough," Noah said beside Isaac, his voice unusually sharp. "He may be my father, but the way he treats you is not okay."
Noctis remained silent. Calmly, he took a sip of his gin, as if it only concerned him on the periphery.
"Guys. Seriously," Isaac cut in. "I can handle this. The wound will slow me down, yes. But I'm not going in alone."
Ashe lifted her gaze and looked at Noctis. "You're coming with him this time?"
Noctis nodded casually. "Yep. I'm not letting him go in there alone." A faint grin spread across his face. "I'll keep the cops busy. Isaac can grab the painting in peace."
"I was actually going to suggest going in with him," Noah said.
Despite his words, he looked relieved that he wouldn't have to.
"No," Noctis replied dryly. "You'd better stick to your show outside. Your fans would be disappointed otherwise."
Noah leaned back into the couch and exhaled. "If you're going with him, I'm relieved."
Noctis gave him a brief glance. "You focus on keeping things running outside. I'll take care of him."
For a moment, silence settled over the room.
Isaac slowly turned the glass between his fingers. "I'll need more time than usual this time," he said at last. "We should prepare for an emergency."
Ashe nodded immediately. "Longer operation time means I'm easier to track," she explained. "And Noah will have to stay outside much longer."
The lightness that had filled the room just minutes ago was gone. What remained was the sober realization that far more was at stake this time.
Noah waved it off. "I've got enough in store to keep people entertained and the cops off my back," he grinned. "If Isaac enchants everything properly, I can easily last half an hour."
To Isaac's right, Noctis tensed almost imperceptibly.
Isaac barely registered it. His thoughts were already elsewhere. If Noah wanted to bring more of his scribble creatures to life, it would cost additional magic. He would have to maintain a portal for two people, the creatures, and on top of that Noah's talisman.
With the injury… he wasn't sure if his body could handle it. But it didn't matter. It would come down to trying. If Noctis played his hand, at least that would be independent of Isaac's active magic. They didn't have more options.
Isaac extended his hand toward Noah. "Your talisman. I'll charge it."
Without hesitation, Noah handed him his bracelet. "Oh, right. It's time again," he said with a smile. "Thanks for always looking out for me."
"Don't forget—it won't protect you from everything," Isaac said calmly, already focusing.
He let the magic flow through him, channeling it into the bracelet. As usual, his veins burned with heat. Only when Noctis' hand brushed lightly over his thigh did he stop.
"Isaac," he said quietly. "That's enough. You're sweating."
Isaac gave a short nod and cut off the flow. The magic ceased abruptly. A shaky breath escaped him before he silently handed the bracelet back to Noah. Noah closed his fingers around it as if it suddenly weighed more than before, then slipped it back on.
"Thanks, brother," he said this time, unusually serious. "I appreciate it."
When he looked at Noah again, there was exhaustion in his eyes.
"If you stay outside longer, still pull back before things tip over," he said calmly. "Noc and I can manage inside."
Noctis leaned forward slightly. "He's right," he added. "Just do your thing. And if you think you should leave, then leave. I can't keep an eye on both you and him at the same time."
Noah briefly rubbed the back of his neck, then grinned again as usual. "It'll be fine." He hesitated for a moment. "Can I still give you my sketchbook?"
Isaac shook his head slightly. "Later," he said curtly. "Not now."
He simply had no reserves left.
"How about you leave it here and Isaac takes care of it over the next few days?" Noctis suggested. "I'll bring it to you at the café a few days before the heist."
Noah thought for a moment, then nodded. "Sounds good. Thanks."
For a moment, something like structure returned to the situation.
Ashe straightened up. "Good. Then we know what we're dealing with." Her voice was steady again, matter-of-fact. "I'll hack into the cameras as usual and make life difficult for the cops."
Her gaze lingered on Isaac.
"Were you able to find out what they're planning?"
Isaac shook his head.
"Unfortunately not," he said, immediately biting his lower lip. "The cop I serve every morning at the café—he uses an old-fashioned notebook he's constantly scribbling in. I was planning to get closer to him to take a look at it in a quiet moment. However…"
He glanced briefly at Noctis.
"…things have become more complicated, and with my leg, I won't be able to find anything out before the next heist anyway."
Noctis made a brief hand gesture that immediately drew the others' attention.
"That's why I'll take a look at it next week and tell you what they're planning. We know where he lives, and I know what it looks like. It won't be a problem to break in and take it."
Ashe exhaled slowly. You could practically see her thoughts racing.
"Okay."
She straightened up and squared her shoulders.
"Sounds like a plan. Honestly, I can't think of a better alternative either." Her gaze moved back and forth between Isaac and Noctis. "Are you using the same portal, or are you going in first?"
"We'll both go through the same portal," Isaac replied calmly.
Ashe nodded slowly as she ran through the plan in her head.
"So Noctis goes in first, creates a distraction, and you grab the painting as quickly as possible in the meantime?"
Isaac nodded.
"I'll guide you like usual," she added. "They won't be able to send all their men after Noctis."
"And if they don't fall for my distraction, I'll regroup with Isaac and help him get back to the portal," Noctis added. His voice remained calm. "However, I won't pay attention to whether I kill anyone in the process."
Ashe let out a quiet sigh and rubbed her temples.
"If you kill someone, the next heists will only get more complicated." She looked at him intently. "At least try to hold back a little, okay?"
"I'll try," Noctis replied.
But his tone left little doubt as to how much that promise was worth. Ashe held his gaze for a moment longer, then sank back into her thoughts.
"I really can't think of anything else right now. I'd suggest using small explosives, but that would only cause additional problems for us in future operations."
Her gaze shifted to Isaac.
"And I don't think the boss will be satisfied with that. He'll probably insist that we do our job, so we should, as usual, steal the target and disappear without killing anyone."
On the last sentence, she looked back at Noctis.
"You're right," Isaac said.
He went over everything they had tried so far to disrupt the cops' communication. But Ashe had already exhausted every sensible option. He also didn't want to use anything that could potentially destroy something.
For him, the exhibition halls were sacred. They housed the hard work of countless artists, both from the past and the modern age. He didn't want anything to be damaged. All this time, he had made an effort not to destroy anything. So why would he start now?
He also didn't want to rely on any tools he had never used before. Damn it, he didn't even have the time to try something like that. No smoke bombs, nothing like that. He didn't want to carry syringes or chloroform to put the cops to sleep. It would take even longer to deal with all of them anyway.
After all, no one could say how many would be there this time.
There were too many unknown variables.
Better to stick with what he knew—and what would work. As long as Noctis kept Benedict off his back, he should be able to get the painting.
Isaac's gaze fell on his injured leg.
Once he had the painting, he would only need to manage one final sprint. After that, he'd have about four weeks again to prepare for the next heist.
The heists had already become unnecessarily difficult thanks to Benedict, and the injury made everything even more complicated.
Isaac usually relied only on himself and his abilities—just as the others relied on him to wrap everything up quickly, as usual. His wound put everyone at unnecessary risk. Noctis too, who would be facing the cops head-on.
All at once, his stomach turned as the full weight of the situation hit him.
He drained his glass, then looked at Noctis.
"Can you make me another?"
A faint smile flickered across Noctis' face. He took the glass and stood up.
"The same?"
Isaac nodded silently. His voice failed him.
Instead, he stared at Noctis. If Noctis got hurt because of him, he would never forgive himself. His lover cast him a brief, concerned glance, then headed into the kitchen.
He had to pull it off. Somehow.
"So, are we done with everything then?" Noah asked cautiously.
Ashe nodded slowly. "If I think of anything else, I'll let you know. I need to let this sink in first."
Isaac let his gaze wander between the two of them. For a moment, he considered simply ending the evening right there. It would have made sense—the conversation had exhausted him, and his thoughts were already running in circles. But at the same time, he knew Ashe and Noah had earned this moment. They had asked him often enough for a quiet, normal evening. An evening without plans, without pressure, without the constant expectation to function.
In the end, he let out a quiet breath and gave in. He wouldn't be able to focus on the painting anymore anyway.
"I'll think more about the heist as well," Isaac said, absently running a hand through his hair. "So we should enjoy the evening before all hell breaks loose."
Ashe smiled at him warmly, a hint of relief in her expression. "Sounds good."
At that moment, Noctis returned. He set the cocktail down in front of Isaac and sank back beside him. Their legs brushed casually, but the contact remained as Noctis settled into a comfortable position, maintaining that subtle closeness with quiet intent.
Noah leaned forward slightly. There was a certain gleam in his eyes—one that promised no good.
"There's something I've been wanting to ask you all this time," he said with an unapologetic grin.
Isaac frowned slightly. He didn't like that grin at all.
"What did you want to ask?" he asked cautiously, taking a sip of his mojito.
Noah let his gaze move deliberately between Isaac and Noctis, as if checking an obvious equation.
"How long have you two been dating?" he asked bluntly.
Isaac immediately choked on his mojito and burst into a coughing fit.
Noctis froze for a brief moment before the faintest hint of a smirk crept onto his lips.
Ashe, on the other hand, leaned back with interest, as if the evening had just become worthwhile.
Isaac stared at Noah.
How the hell did he figure that out?!