Archive of Our Own

“…of course, you can choose whatever materials you want to use. Just please be reminded that whoever’s going to make the best diorama will get the highest grade–”        

Obviously.

“As well as an exception for the quarterly exam. The annual art exhibit will be held next month and it is open for everyone, as you already know. The best diorama will be displayed. Isn’t that great?”

Taeyong’s attention drifts away from the scenery outside the window and momentarily stays at the exaggerated excitement lying on the face of his overly enthusiastic professor. She goes on for another minute or two about the enticing incentives the winner will get (as if this class is meant to incite competition rather than creativity), earning sold oohs and aahs from the 15 other students boxed in the small room.

Art is nowhere near close to Taeyong’s sparse interest, actually. To begin with, he doesn’t think he has any interest on anything. It’s just that they were required (of irregular students) upon enrolment to sign up for an elective class, because apparently, an extra class is going to hone their skills or something, if not to add more burden to the pile of ruthless tasks they (the whole population of this college) already have to finish.

Not like he has much to do since he didn’t take the whole 30+ units for this year. Still, an elective is required (which defeats the term ‘elective’, but fuck him if he raises that concern to the admin). It was either Art or Family Dynamics that time, being the only classes struggling to fill slots.

Thinking about it now, he knows he made the right choice. Writing essays about the evolution of family dynamics per generation doesn’t particularly sound promising, especially after–

The middle-aged woman, white hair mingling with natural black tied into a bun, claps once to grab everyone’s attention as she drones on a different topic. On a good day, she’s honestly very engaging, and gives off a motherly vibe. She makes you want to raise your hand and ask questions without being made into a laughing stock, unlike Taeyong’s Algebra professor.

But today, as he’s itching to go home and re-heat that suspiciously bland plate of two-day old takeaway spaghetti bought from an equally suspicious small, newly-opened restaurant three blocks away from his apartment, Ms. Yang’s continuous rambling leans more towards the irritating side.

He’s two seconds away from raising his hand and saying, ‘isn’t art subjective, Ms. Yang? Having a winner means having a loser, and losing means your diorama looks like shit.’ But he’s not sleep-deprived enough to go crazy and risk a suspension, so nope. Keep that mouth shut, and that thought in your head for now.

Once Taeyong makes sure that Ms. Yang is going to indulge his more attentive students who actually chose this elective to take advantage of every drop of creative juice in their bodies ‘til the last fifteen minutes, his alarmingly poor attention span draws back to the notably boring happenings in the oval.

This college is the easiest to get into in the district, and although the courses are pretty limited and the reputation is not as prestigious, the whole place may be just like any other schools. There is an oval just next to the building where most of Taeyong’s classes are. Humouring himself with what’s available to watch when classes get awfully dull is no-brainer. Take a seat near the window, always without fail, whichever room he’s in. The trick is to blend in with the crowd enough to not get noticed that he’s not listening, and if there’s not much people around in class like today, try to look like the very hopeless, uninteresting student to ever grace the earth that calling him out seems pointless.

It might come off strange to some, but Taeyong has a habit of mentally making up stories about the unfortunate person/s his eyes will catch on for the day. He tries to take in as much as he can of the other’s physical appearance (right now, he can’t do that a lot, because Art class is on the third floor and he’s not about to dangle himself out the window just to clearly look at the face of this girl with the botched blonde-dyed hair carrying two hardback books in one arm, and a bucket of whatever in the other), and makes do with it.

Truthfully, his unsolicited assumptions merely based on superficial visuals aren’t so credible to say the least. That’s what makes this odd game for the loners and the highly imaginative quite challenging, though. Because it tests the limits of your mind using the pitiful materials offered.

Or at least, that’s what he’s managed to convince himself so that he seems a tad bit cool. For someone without a solid personality that will make him stand out and gain friends and be the popular guy from Science dept. Nobody from the Science department is deemed cool according the general consensus.

This fake blonde girl though, as his mind fabricates, is a secret agent sent out by the government to crack through the underground drug business. Why she’s moonlighting as a college student enrolled in the night class, it’s another story. Fuck if Taeyong knows what’s going on. But that’s the point of the game! Find out where the drug den is (most likely in this school, seeing that she’s a student here, dumbass), how she catches the culprits, and maybe her other hobbies and where she goes after class. No, it’s not stalking. He’s not actually following her to know what the hell she’s up to because that’s none of his business, but Taeyong is an author who doesn’t know how to write so he just keeps all the stories in his head, amuse himself, because nowadays there’s no more that remotely makes him smile.

What tiny curve he has on his mouth drops instantly at the reminder.

Blondie is now on the phone with someone looking quite frustrated judging from her body language, the two hardbacks set on the ground next to her white sneaker-clad feet. Taeyong can’t hear what she’s saying but it’s a spitfire conversation, and if he were closer to her, he’d see that vein on the side of her neck. Her brows would be furrowed close enough to be stitched together, brown eyes blazing, pink lips curled into the most hideous frown. She angrily hits her strikes her thigh as though hitting the person on the other line, simultaneously dropping the medium-sized carton bucket as she did. It was full of orange, round-shaped munchkins the size of an eyeball. Now, they’re all over the soil. She cries in loud exasperation and backs up to the trunk of a tree behind her before sliding down dramatically as she covers her face with a hand and ends the call.

Taeyong concludes that her boss, the boss agent, could have delivered a bad news. Drug den busted by someone else, by a rival agency perhaps, or her guise was discovered and now the culprits have scampered like rats on a rainy day. None of that sounds amazing enough, so he concludes more possibilities. Maybe it was a lover on the phone and they were breaking up with Blondie. A secret agent would react more reasonably if the call was work-related–a simple huff and a hardened gaze as it sweeps over the crowd in suspicion would suffice. She was a little hysterical, so it could be a cheating lover severing their relationship. Typical but more plausible.  Even secret agents get into a lovers’ quarrel.

Anyway, it’s over. The game is over. Blondie picks up her things and walks away without a single fuck given to the audience she earned. Taeyong closes the story with a justified ending, deciding that Blondie is going to confront her ex and move on the next day because she’s a girl boss like that. Girl bosses do not cry over spineless bastards.

Ms. Yang hits the board with her palm and blasts into another story that Taeyong cares too little for. The woman has a habit of annoyingly hitting whatever’s within reach, sometimes her own stomach or her thigh whenever she’s high on adrenaline. One of these days she’s going to slap her own flabby cheek and leave a chalky print on it.

Taeyong discreetly checks the time on his phone before pulling out a copy of The Odyssey. Five minutes left. He can kill that with a trusted comic book that is, well, sadly incomplete. Broke boys rarely complete a comic book series. Unless the local comic store is holding another sale. That’s his only chance to dig through piles of random volumes. Needless to say, he never finishes any comic series. Won’t change the fact that he’s a fan of them, though. Especially of those international ones. They’re just the best.

He’s just flipped on to the next page where Odysseus is going to join an archery contest for the sake of Penelope, when the bell rings.

“So don’t forget to start on your diorama as soon as possible if you want to join the contest!”

What. So it’s actually a contest? What happens to those who won’t participate? Ms. Yang must have explained it earlier, but Taeyong is already out of the classroom and pushing past everybody to think about going back to make her repeat herself.

On the way home, Taeyong’s phone buzzes. He’s fishing it out of his jeans pocket when a cyclist breezes past him, barely grazing his shoulder. Taeyong jumps in fright and clutches the phone to his chest, muttering curses towards the arrogant cyclist and looks around for more of them before going to the safer side of the road to check his texts.

The constant pings come from the Art group chat. One of the several group chats he has, the only means of communication he has with everyone because, you know, he’s a loner. By choice. Not like he’s shit with socializing. That’s totally not the case. He can walk up to anybody and ask what their favorite color is if he wants to. But he’s been this way ever since he was a kid, preferring to be by himself because peaceful quietness is just too good to lose. Some people are like him, some are not. It doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him. He’s just the kind of normal not-like-him people aren’t used to.

They’re asking who signed up for the contest. Jihwa did, because he’s a conceited motherfucker who thinks too highly of himself when he’s not even the best in class. Surely he will attempt to pay his way through it. Min did not, because he’s lazy. That’s it, nothing too big of a reason. Seungho signed up. Only because he can’t live a day without trying to impress that best art student in the whole district, that Nakyum kid–the new conquest.

Anyway, so thanks to Min that Taeyong confirms all those who did not sign up for the competition will be assigned a giant essay to write. 3000 fucking words. Good grief. He scrolls more and sees his name next to the topic he has to write about. And many thanks to Ms. Yang. She didn’t forget to call him out now for his inattentiveness. Two laughing reactions were sent on her chat.

Min and Jihwa. Stupid airheads.

Remembering he ran out of ink, and some bond papers, Taeyong takes a detour and heads to the nearest supplies store.

Project season, he muses, when he enters and finds probably two thousand people, majority girls, already lined up at the cashier with their items. Taeyong purses his lips and tugs his bag closer as he squeezes through and makes way for the paper section.

The thing about this store is, although it’s not as big as those he’d seen in the city during a once in a lifetime family trip, it’s got plenty options to choose from. You want a paper? What kind? White, cream? 70 gsm, 80? What about pens, we’ve got practical ones, and those that leave an ordinary student’s pocket empty! He isn’t in a rush and he’s literally got all the time in the world so Taeyong peacefully skims through many plastic-wrapped bundles, squinting at the quality. When he’s feeling rather nervy, he unseals some and rubs the paper to check the texture. How deviant. If his parents knew, they’d be whacking his head with the same bundle of paper rolled up ominously.

Taeyong nods approvingly. 80 gsm. Not bad. A good paper produces a good paper. Hah, get it? Grabbing two bundles, he saunters to the ink bottles and picks up the brand he uses before lining up to pay. 989 people left. Great. They move quite fast, locals of the Dong district. He takes out the grape lollipop in his bag and sucks on it while waiting. It’s important to keep a snack with you all the time. Especially when you’re waiting in a long line to basically get even more broke paying for papers and ink to do essays you’d rather imagine than write. Lollipops are an incredible distraction from that unwanted fact, tried and tested.

After paying (twenty minutes later, courtesy of the wonky scanner and register that looks like eight centuries old), Taeyong stops by the bank to hopefully withdraw some extra cash for the next week. That two-day old Spaghetti honestly doesn’t look edible even on the first day. He’s considering filing a report for that restaurant to be investigated when the ATM screen blanks out for a second, scaring him, and then lights up again to give him the horror of his life.

There’s barely enough to last him a month of food. Everything he could access three months ago was used to cover debts… and there was a lot of it. Debts, and some other things Taeyong loathes to think about. Pissed, he wrenches the card out of the slot and begins to storm off, only to return and rip the forgotten receipt to shreds. It’s one thing to see you’re penniless for good. It’s another to let others know about it.

Something from his periphery stops him from storming for the second time. Next to the bank is a book store and a rack of newspapers sit untouched just outside, next to the entrance. Taeyong is not the type to be updated with issues concerning the country since he’s got enough issues to deal with on his own, but the headline is undeniably eye-catching. He picks it up and reads, jaw clenching.

Three Months since Spider-Man’s Disappearance, Where Could the Hero Be?

Of all the problems South Korea is facing, they chose to shove their noses into this guy’s whereabouts? Who cares? Spider-Man, as dubbed by the nation the first time he came out, has been missing since winning that big fight in Gwangsan-gu against an Octopus-human-something three months ago. I think they called him Doc Ock. Not a single soul has an idea where the web-wielding hero went. He basically fell off the radar and it took the media two weeks to suspect he’s never coming back.

“It’s like he never existed.”

The grandpa, legs buckling and hands quivering over a cane, looks up at Taeyong with a toothless smile. “Too bad, I wanted my grandson to meet him.”

“Don’t,” Taeyong curtly says before folding the newspaper in half and chucking it back to the rack. “Please consider choosing a good role model for your grandson, ahjussi.”

“Why would you say that?” The old man wobbly approaches the rack and picks up the newspaper, cataract-infested eyes almost gleaming as he nearly shoves his face to the paper just to read through the article. “Spider-Man is a lot of people’s hero.”

Taeyong looks down his shoes for a second and huffs, smiling bitterly. “I’m not a lot of people. Go back home, ahjussi. It’s not safe for you to amble around at night.” He doesn’t meet the man’s eyes as he turns around and follows the route home.

“It would be safe if Spider-Man was here!”

Well he’s not, grandpa. It should stay that way.

Fuck art classes. Fuck essays. Fuck empty savings. Fuck this apartment without elevators, and fuck Spider-Man for disappearing and still hogging all the attention. When the hell is he going to be forgotten?

Taeyong angrily mumbles to himself as he climbs the last set of stairs and stomps towards apartment 301. The building is old and basic, only having three rooms per floor. He’s lived here all his life (not really, but most of his life, maybe 12 years – but all his life is easier to say than 12 out of 21 years of his life), and within those growing years, they’d never thought of moving out. Until three months ago, and the thought remained a thought, never to materialize.

He’s just about to unlock his door when someone arrives – his next door neighbor. Owner of apartment 302. Hand frozen near the door knob, Taeyong watches as the man stops in front of 302 and pats his body. Probably looking for the keys. Not once did this person look at Taeyong to acknowledge his presence. Like he’s not there, like he’s invisible. Like he’s missing. Like he’s Spider-Man.

Taeyong’s mind starts another game on its own. He scans the man’s appearance, always neat-looking, making it a point to be presentable. His neighbor cares for the way he looks. Unlike Taeyong, this man does not dress carelessly. Everyday, he must stare at the row of clothes in his closet like he’s deciding the correct answer to a million-dollar question, even if his wardrobe consists of nothing grand. Taeyong has never seen this man wear anything corporate, so he rules out working for a company. His neighbor must be a trainer of sorts, or someone that runs their own business. A store that sells food. He’s always got a box in his arms whenever he comes home, whenever Taeyong coincidentally arrives the same time, at least. He can’t be a student. He doesn’t look like one.

When the man swears quietly, Taeyong breaks out of his trance. “Here, let me,” he says as he takes the baby blue box from the wide-eyed neighbor. Reading through the logo stamped on the box’s cover, Taeyong misses the unreadable stare the man gives him, only looking up again when he hears the jangle of keys. “Where is this shop?” The logo is kind of adorable, designed to lure the sweet-toothed. Taeyong wonders what they sell.

So is he the owner or the customer?

Just like the other times he tried to talk to this guy, he doesn’t get an answer. Maybe he’s deaf, maybe he’s mute. Just like the other times he was ignored, Taeyong tries again and takes a step closer. “Coming back from work? Class? Date? Do you like sweets so much?”

The guy finally pushes his door open, deliberate sigh slipping out of him. He looks at Taeyong again and shoots out his hand, silently asking for the box which the student gives right away.

“Have a good night–”

A nod to cut him off, and then the door slams right on Taeyong’s face as if telling him to fuck off.

Maybe the guy is indeed mute. And instead of a sign language, that’s how he communicates with an annoying, persistent neighbor. Taeyong blinks a few times and stands there not knowing how to react, before his phone buzzes once again. He unlocks his door and throws one last glance at 302 before going in his apartment, and slams the door close as his own response to the rude neighbor translating to fuck off too, bitch.

What an asshole. If he’s mute, then fucking sign? Taeyong may not know any sign language but he understands a simple waving off or crossing hands. How is he supposed to understand that being ignored was basically being told to fuck off?

He’s not even doing anything wrong. It’s only common courtesy and kindness to talk to the new guy. Over a month has gone by since the man moved in and the same still happens. Taeyong says hi, asks how the man’s day is, and gets nothing in return. That man is the personification of aloof. Distant and cold. No, that man cannot be the owner of the sweet shop. Dessert store owners are smiley and soft and friendly and gentle. Not stiff and rude and an island.

Scoffing, Taeyong chucks his shoes to the side and walks towards the mess that is his living room. Bag carelessly dropped next to the couch, he steps over strewn papers, straight and crumpled, academic books left open and other questionable stuff that’s been neglected for too long they’re becoming one with the floor. If someone has to describe the state of his home, it’s just…torpedoed. He wasn’t a messy kid. He wasn’t this disorganized. The recent events just jumbled his life into this and he has no energy left to put everything back to how they were. The only thing the missile didn’t hit in the apartment is his small collection of random comic books under the TV.

His bedroom is cleaner compared to the living room, though. Even then, it doesn’t matter. No one comes over. Taeyong needs not to pretend and clean just for somebody to judge how he lives.

While waiting for the leftover Spaghetti (and a slice of pizza, thank god!) to reheat in the microwave, Taeyong changes into an oversized dirty white shirt with a hole on the sleeve and some baggy pajama bottoms. The microwave pings just as he comes out of the bedroom, and he grabs a cold bottle of water to bring to the couch with his pathetic dinner. When he takes a bite off the decent pizza, he turns on the TV and pretends everything’s okay. His living room is clean, his laundry is done, his sink is empty, and his fridge is full.

Being an orphan at his age is hard. It shows everywhere he looks. It wasn’t this dull in the apartment when his mom sang while cooking, when his dad came home and swooped Taeyong’s mother in his arms so they could dance while she sang. She had a nice voice. Taeyong used to fall asleep from her lullabies. The couch was his mattress, because there was only one bedroom, and his parents kept it free of clutter.

It wasn’t this dreary. It was tidy and bright.

The apartment was lived in. Now, it is still lived in yet there’s no life.

There’s no money. All their savings were spent. Taeyong briefly considers dropping out and immediately dismisses it.

Tossing the pizza crust in his plate, Taeyong perks up when hears Spider-Man’s name on TV. Another news discussing his whereabouts. God, why are they so obsessed with this superhero? The constant call to him is getting really miserable. There isn’t even a national threat, so Taeyong doesn’t understand why people cannot move on. If Spider-Man isn’t responding, it means they should just fuck off. Spider-Man doesn’t wanna talk. He might even be dead for all they know.

Talking about him like he’s a celebrity, tch. Seeing his masked face and hearing his name doesn’t help Taeyong’s situation. Spider-Man reminds him of bad dreams. Spider-Man reminds him why he’s alone. Spider-Man reminds him that his parents died in a car crash during the fight in Gwangsan district, while they were looking for a new house. They indeed moved out, just not in the way Taeyong expected.

Spider-Man caused so many heartaches. And he had the audacity to vanish without making amends.

Feeling sick of his plight, Taeyong turns off the TV and grabs his phone instead, ignoring Art! gc’s texts to search for job hirings. Spider-Man caused him a lot of problems, sure, but remaining jobless is not one of them.

The shower knob creaks painfully like a rusty gate when Jaehyun turns it off. He quickly towels himself dry and heads to the bedroom to put on some comfortable sleep wear. Dinner is a plate of some of the leftover donuts from the shop and a can of beer. Incompatible, perhaps, but it would be a waste to stuff them in the fridge just so he could have chicken. It’s not a matter of being able to afford, but Jaehyun is a stickler to principles – do not waste food. Eat what you have right now, and buy once you run out.

Indulging happens once in a while, but he doesn’t deserve too much. Not him, he believes so.

He’s got a three-seater dining table pushed next to the window where he can overlook a little part of this area of the town, but sitting there alone makes him feel like he’s the only man in the world, and not in a good way. The small, low table in the living room dutifully serves its purpose anyway.

As he settles down, Jaehyun stretches his arms and groans as the hard work of the day uncurls from his muscles. Managing the donut store isn’t a piece of cake but it makes him happy. Doing something he loves takes his mind off things, and to see his customers’ happy faces when they eat his favorite food is simply incomparable.

While the female newscaster relays the daily report, Jaehyun scrolls through emails from both his suppliers and employees, and opens one from Yibo. Yibo is half of the two staff working for him. The boy says he’s going to come early to receive the deliveries next day so Jaehyun doesn’t have to come and open up the store. Yibo used to live in Gwangsan-gu too, but followed Jaehyun when the latter announced he would be closing the store there to open a new one in Dong-gu. Jaehyun doubts that’s the only reason, though, given that the other staff, Xiao Zhan, was the first one to volunteer. Those two are like two peas in a pod. Can’t really be separated.

Well, he’s happy to take them. They’re so loyal, even after everything that happened–those events that he ran away from when he moved in this apartment building, but somehow, they never stayed in the past.

How could they, when literally every single person in this country wants to know where he is? Even if he doesn’t watch the news, he’s going to overhear customers casually discussing what the hell happened to him. Even if he shuts them off, his eyes will stray towards the newspapers they’re reading. Even if Yibo and Xiao Zhan are mum about his identity, someone else is going to say his name.

Spider-Man, where did he go?

What should he do to leave it all behind? One way or another, he will remember the fight. The fight that kept him so busy saving the country, being the superhero South Korea adores, that he failed to save the most important to him. Some damned burglar took advantage of the chaos and broke inside their house, took some possessions, and gunned down his grandfather. The man that dedicated his life to taking care of Jaehyun. The only family Jaehyun knew.

Everybody thinks it’s glamorous, to be hunted by the media and painted as the strongest, most amazing, coolest in the world. All they care about is the clout they would gain once they hunted him down. Questions of where were you, how did you gain your powers, how strong are you would bombard him, but none of those would want to know how he’s faring as he carries the burden of not being able to save who deeply mattered.

As though pulled by a masochistic force, Jaehyun extracts himself from the floor and enters his bedroom, standing before the open closet. The newscaster’s voice is rings in the background, a little unclear as though a cloud wraps around it to muffle the words.

Maybe one of the reasons why he can’t escape the past is because he keeps the whole of it, still. Covered by the hung colorful shirts, Jaehyun thought that if he squeezed it far in the back, he wouldn’t gradually forget it. The costume protected and harmed him at the same time. There’s no beauty in it no matter what they say. A mingling of blue, red, and nothing else. The splotches of crimson were scrubbed hard enough for it to look innocent.

Unclenching his hands, Jaehyun pushes the shirts aside. It takes every ounce of willpower to drag it out and display it before his eyes, to look at the skin he wore when he killed that monster, when he indirectly caused the demise of some civilians who got caught in the middle of it, and when he came home to his lifeless grandfather.

Hero? What do they know?

They don’t need him, so they need to stop wishing for his return. He’s not yet done punishing himself.

I cannot be Spider-Man again. I want my old life back, what was left of it, that I sacrificed to be more than I am.

Jaehyun balls up the costume and bitterly shoves it back behind the pile of clothes, mentally cursing the stupid spider he found in the backyard two years ago. How was he supposed to know it was not like any other?

“Stupid, stupid spider.”

A loud thud makes him jump away from the closet and head back to the living room. Jaehyun looks at the TV, news already over, at the still plate of donuts on the table, and at last on the wall he shares with room 301. If all the units have the same model, then the noise should come from his neighbor’s bedroom.

The cute neighbor that refuses to stop trying to be friends with him.

Another thud resonates against Jaehyun’s wall and this time, it’s accompanied by a shriek so loud it’d wake him up if he was asleep.

Curiously, Jaehyun kneels over the couch and presses his ear against the wall, trying to see if he could hear what’s going on–

“Fuck!”

The next attack landed right against his ear as though the guy in 301 knew he was eavesdropping. Holding his right ear and glaring at the wall like it offended him and his ancestors, Jaehyun huffs and stays far from it in case the mad neighbor assaults him again but close enough to hear what might–

“Fuck you, ugly cockroach! Get off my bed– AAAAHHHHHH!”

For the first time since Jaehyun moved in, he finds out the walls are thin enough to hear each other when a cockroach flies like a butterfly in your unit.

Poor boy, he thinks to himself, before facing his sweet, delicious donuts, munching it happily like no one’s being disrespected by a cockroach in the next apartment.

Finding the address of the company whose ad Taeyong found last night proves to be a little on the tough side. It’s not along the main road, not anywhere he’s been for the past five years, and although he’s lived in Dong-gu most of his life, he’s never explored the whole district.

He spots the frankly squalid-looking building nearly an hour of walking around and takes a deep breath before greeting the guard in the lobby. He’s lead to the third floor where he sees a lady behind a waist-high wooden desk, fingers rapidly clacking over the keyboard. She reminds him of the typical rude receptionists in rom-com slash action-comedy movies, who will look at you from head to toe over the rim of her thick-rimmed cat-eye fashion glasses while shaping her nails and chewing a gum that’s been in her mouth for two hours.

“Hello,” Taeyong greets with a nice smile, resting his arm on top of the desk. “I have an appointment with Mr. Park? At 2pm.”

Swiping a glance around the floor, it doesn’t seem too busy. As a matter of fact, Taeyong doesn’t hear the usual chattering of employees in the movies, and he doesn’t see anyone passing by for a coffee or smoke break. Did he come to the right place?

Miss receptionist asks for his name, thankfully not sounding like those stereotypical ladies and is actually genuinely nice, and nods when she sees his name on the database. “You can get in. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” Taeyong knocks on the desk once and enters the first door he sees (the only one he can see in this whole damn floor that isn’t really spacious to begin with). There is a brown leather couch in the receiving area, devoid of other applicants. He sits down, hoping to have some time to calm his nerves before meeting the recruiter, when a burly man dressed in a plain, black, ironed blazer and pants too short for his height comes out of the door in his right and tells him to get in.

Taeyong walks past him, ignoring the weird grin and releases a breath he’s been holding when the man closes the door, not entering. A deliberate clearing of throat brings him back to the situation at hand and Taeyong is faced with the recruiter’s too happy a grin and comically trimmed moustache–like those in cartoons that curves like a twin mountain in the middle with the ends curling up dramatically.

“Are you Mr. Lee?” The recruiter, Mr. Park asks for formality. Taeyong can see he’s already holding the printed résumé he emailed last night. Truthfully, he was shocked when he received an interview invitation ten minutes after. “Have a seat! How are you? Did you have a hard time finding the address?”

To be fair, the single-seater couch is softer than the one in the receiving room. Taeyong keeps his hands balled on his lap, sitting straight. It’s the first good impression he can make, seeing that his only button-up shirt was obviously not even ironed properly. “A little bit, sir. Because…pardon me for saying this, but– it doesn’t really look like an office building…?” He’s inexperienced but he can use some honesty for leverage…if only he didn’t take a jab at their poor choice of a venue.

Mr. Park puts his résumé down and uncomfortably stares him in the eyes for what seems like forever, and before Taeyong finally pees his pants, the man laughs thunderously that the poor applicant before him jerks in his seat. “Yes, yes! Don’t worry, it’s not offensive. We’re a start-up company and this is only the recruitment hub. To save money, we’re renting this floor as an office space. The main office is where everyone else works as we speak, all that shebang. So,” Mr. Park smiles and looks over Taeyong’s résumé again. “You’re currently in college? This is a field work. You know exactly what you’re applying for, right?”

“A photographer, sir.” How Taeyong managed to speak stably, fuck if he knows.

“Okay. You have a camera?”

“Yeah, I do.” For some reason, Taeyong feels like explaining. “It was a gift. I haven’t used it in a while but I’m sure it’s still working perfectly.”

“Ahuh,” Mr. Park hums, “This job has flexible hours; how sure are you that you can fully commit to it, though?”

“My classes are at night, from 5 to 8, or 9 sometimes, and I am free on weekends. I can do the job during the day.”

“Good, good.” The recruiter nods in approval, leaning back his chair and pins Taeyong another unnerving stare. “So you’re mostly free, you have a good camera. All we need is the one you need to capture, right?”

Taeyong blinks. Yes, what exactly is he photographing? Weddings, graduations, company parties? “Of course, sir. May I know what–”

The slamming of a newspaper on the desk cuts him off. Taeyong doesn’t have to ask what it is for because there, on the frontpage of an issue published two months ago, is Spider-Man delivering the last blow that brought Doc Ock to his end. “This, kid,” Mr. Park taps his index on Spider-Man’s black and white face, “is what you are going to take pictures of.”

What fucking luck. Or lack thereof. Seriously?

“…What.”

That tone might be what could drop him off this application but Mr. Park only tuts. “I know it sounds impossible considering he’s been missing for three months, and people are starting to speculate that he’s dead,” he ignores Taeyong’s visible shudder, “but you know – the media might be looking in the wrong places. They focus too much in Gwangsan. What if he’s in the other districts?”

Technically speaking, Gwangsan-gu is the biggest district in the province. Spider-Man could be hiding in plain sight. “What if he’s in another country?”

Mr. Park snorts. “Ha! What would he do in another country? The fame is here, not there. Only a fool rejects fame. Has anyone spotted him in China, Russia, America? As long as there is no report of sighting, he hasn’t swung away yet. The pay is gonna be good…” His voice evidently softens, attempting to convince, the roles reversed. “If you can give me good pictures.”

Jesus. What are the chances, really? Of running into a job opening demanding him to find what he despises to see, and of actually finding the elusive superhero? Taeyong looks at his hands as they grip the fabric of his pants. “How good?”

“The pictures?”

“The pay.”

“Unreasonably.”

“May I see the contract first?” Taeyong wets his lips, straightening his posture. He didn’t notice when he deflated. “I need to be sure – this is a start-up newspaper company, right?”

Mr. Park gives him a funny look, fingers drumming on the newspaper again. “Exactly. And our debut in the journalism industry has to be grand. So this job is very important. We want Spider-Man to be the face of our first ever paper.” Holding the applicant’s gaze, Mr. Park rolls Taeyong’s résumé and taps his free palm rhythmically. “Listen, a lot of them are trying to apply. This role has only five slots.”

Awesome. Another competition. Taeyong hates competitions. He purposely avoided one, didn’t he? “So it’s a contest of whoever gets Spider-Man first, gets paid?”

Push it once more, Taeyong, and they will throw you out face first.

“There is competition everywhere, young man. It’s either you take it and get paid as you deserve, or leave, and…well…”

That sentence doesn’t need to be finished for Taeyong to make up his mind.

“I’ll take it,” his voice now louder, more certain, “Please hire me, sir. I’ll do everything I can.”

The cackle Mr. Park lets out is deafening. “I like you, I like you! You’re very determined.”

You mean desperate, Taeyong’s mind echoes. “This is the only urgent job opening I can find, sir.”

Mr. Park’s form sags in satisfaction, the glint in his eyes shimmering. “I will send the contract to your email. For now, you’re hired. Congratulations!”

Taeyong accepts the overzealous handshake before walking out of the recruiter’s office. The same burly man from earlier smiles up at him from the seat still lacking of the applicants Mr. Park mentioned fighting for this job. “Got hired?”

“I was told,” Taeyong says before hastily leaving. That burly man’s too wide a smile disconcerts him.

Jaehyun left the store earlier than usual. The daily sales need to be updated. Normally, it’s Xiao Zhan who does it but Jaehyun volunteered since the former opened the store at 4am with Yibo. He’s a boss that cares, what can he say?

Renegades plays on loop in his headphones when there comes a knock on the door. Jaehyun looks at it for a moment and gets up from his spot by the low table. It can’t be his neighbor, can it? Is it about the immortal cockroach claiming said neighbor’s bedroom and now the latter refuses to sleep anywhere else? Jaehyun supposes he can loan his couch for a few days.

Turns out that it’s the lady custodian aside on their floor, reminding him to put the trash in the hall tomorrow for weekly garbage collection. Jaehyun politely nods, before deciding to gather his trash now and leave it outside lest he forgets. It’s not smelly, though, because he doesn’t dispose anything biodegradable there. He eats with discipline, so he throws no leftovers.

To make sure it doesn’t spill, Jaehyun ties the garbage bag with one of those ribbons they use to lock the donut boxes. He’s stepping back in his unit when his neighbor climbs up wearing the ugliest frown on his face, one hand clutching the strap of his book bag and the other his phone. Now, Jaehyun isn’t one to loiter and gossip, but the conversation roots him. Luckily, he’s hidden by the doorway.

“I’m not kidding. I really need to look for Spider-Man.” Taeyong takes out his keys but does not unlock his door, merely sagging before it. “I know, I know…but I don’t think he’s dead– Dong-gu? Why not? Everybody can come to Dong-gu. He could be here, somewhere…”

At this point, Jaehyun’s heart is dribbling disturbingly fast in his chest, ready to crash through his ribcage. Does his neighbor know? Is that why the boy seems so persistent?

Still unaware of the other’s presence, Taeyong grumbly slides down and places the book bag on his lap while resting against 301’s door. “Thank you, Jennie, but I can’t keep borrowing money. You already helped pay my tuition. I can do this, trust me. Just– have fun there. New Zealand must be nice.” Defeated, Taeyong sighs. “Yeah, but rent is due, that’s for sure. And I need food. They said they will pay well. I’m gonna look at the contract tonight. I’m not above editing but that might get me arrested, you know? So fuck that. It’s not…it’s not that hard, I guess. Being a pap could be fun–”

Jaehyun didn’t mean to show himself (to poke his head out, specifically), but when he confirms that Taeyong really has no idea who and where Spider-Man is, he thought it was fine to…let the boy know he was eavesdropping? What even–

Seeing his aloof neighbor, Taeyong scrambles to get up. “Hey, I have to go now. I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to call all the time. Yeah, I’ll be careful. Bye, Jen. Take care.” All throughout that farewell, Taeyong stares right back at his neighbor. He hangs up and pockets his phone before sheepishly facing the reclusive man. “I’m sorry, was I too loud?”

Last night, yes, Jaehyun is tempted to say. Instead, he gives the boy a once-over. So he really applied for a job. “You need to take out your trash tomorrow.”

Okay, back the fuck up. Did he hear that right? No, not even that – did Taeyong discover his neighbor actually has a functioning tongue? My god… It only took him publicly wallowing in misery for it to happen. Taeyong nods eagerly, unsure what he’s really agreeing to. “Okay, um, thank you.” Panicking due to his recent discovery, Taeyong grabs his bag and starts keying his door.

“You’re looking for…Spider-Man?”

It’s none of Jaehyun’s business, truth be told. But sometimes his mouth works faster than his brain could fathom and it’s a proven flaw. The neighbor tells him just that.

“I’m sorry.”

Realizing his sudden rudeness, Taeyong sighs and faces 302 guy again. He’s not generally rude to people who only wants to ask harmless questions, but he’s totally bummed. Half-bad day. “I applied for a job today and I need to take photos of Spider-Man. You already know how that makes me feel. I mean, how in the world am I gonna find him? But I’m gonna get good money and honestly…it’s too good to pass up.”

The trouble in his neighbor’s voice is too concerning. Jaehyun nods, gripping the door knob. “I’m Jaehyun.”

Oh, mother of god. What that mouth do, you say? Not shut the fuck up, apparently.

But the sudden brightness on the boy’s face makes up for it, somehow.

As though recharged by the blinding rays of the sun they cannot see as of now, Taeyong practically glows. “I’m Taeyong! Nice to meet you!” With a sheepish wave, Taeyong excitedly unlocks his apartment and gets inside, slamming the door with an embarrassing whoopee!

With no more reason to linger there, Jaehyun finally steps back in. For a moment he stares at the floor, mopped daily it shines when he stares too long, and just like his mouth, his legs move even before his brain could catch up. When he registers the costume in his hand, Jaehyun realizes how stupid it is, how risky it is–whatever he’s thinking of.

A low groan brought by the fighting angel and demon on his shoulders later, Jaehyun’s forehead hits the closet as he buries his face in Spider-Man’s costume.

What do the paparazzi wear when they stalk? Black, nothing more? To help them camouflage in the darkness? Basic. But that only works when they crawl in the night, squeezing themselves into thick bushes and beneath idle cars. Sounds claustrophobia-triggering, but you’d be surprised with what they’re willing to do to invade another human being’s privacy!

So, black. Easy. The only problem is that Taeyong is going out in broad daylight and regardless of what he wears, that dangling camera on his neck is going to give him away.

“Only if they know what I’m doing,” Taeyong whispers while staring at himself in the antique, full-length mirror with paint chipping off on the edges. Psyching himself up, repeating a mental mantra that nobody gives a shit if they found out he’s a cheap pap working for a nameless company, hunting an allegedly extinct superhero. Besides, that’s what everyone wishes to do, even those who don’t say it out loud.

Checking the time on his phone, it says five minutes after 12 in the afternoon. Spider-Man could’ve swung by two hours earlier, flitting across his window like a fallen leaf blown by the wind, but Taeyong, even though tormented by desperation, forgot to set an alarm. 7am could work. Spider-Man might have gone for a morning jog. Curse the 275 (literally, three) essays sharing the same fucking deadline, taking up so much of his poorly managed time (pin the blame on him, really, it’s his fault all he does is sleep and laze around like the deadbeat orphan that he is).

Plus, he couldn’t stop thinking about how suave Jaehyun’s voice is. It’s soft, a little deep but Taeyong already expected that thanks to This Person game. Now that they broke the ice, maybe they’d be able to talk more? Not that he’s dying to do that.

I wonder what made him finally talk to me.

Must be curious about Spider-Man, too. Or whatever.

The world can’t possibly revolve around him, though.

Patting his camera once, Taeyong grabs his keys and locks up before charging into his first day searching for Spider-Man.

He doesn’t have a plan. He should have a plan. But first of all, a plan can only exist if he’s sure that Spider-Man is in Dong-gu. Seriously, what the hell is his employer thinking? And what the hell was he thinking when he signed that contract without reading through every point and section, knowing there is little to no chance he’d be the chosen one out of hundreds of like-him people to spot the superhero? The universe has never been on his side, what makes him think it’d sidle up to him now?

Then let’s make an impromptu plan, Taeyong thinks to himself when he starts walking around his area, going in and out of accessible establishments and asking if they’d seen anyone dressed in Spider-Man’s costume. Hey, don’t judge him. It’s actually smart. Some could be attending a dress-up party, and that person could actually be his target. Who knows, Spider-Man might have gotten sick of one-upping cops and now he just wants to enjoy life as it is by getting hammered 24/7? Oh, to be a powerful and popular man who doesn’t have a fiber of worry in his body.

Asking around is no damn cakewalk, too. He constantly has to flash the company ID he printed by himself (emailed by Mr. Park!) and the little spark of pride he feels each time he does it is squashed by the scowl majority give him possibly because he’s not under the big broadcasting agencies. What a bunch of judgemental pricks.

So Saturday sees Taeyong cluelessly walking around, here and there, back and forth, and into the farthest parts of the Dong district and the only thing he got by 6pm are two texts, each from Mr. Park and his landlady.

Text 1: (Mr. Park) – Taeyong, I’m not rushing you. This work has flexible hours, like the contract said, but the newspaper’s hourglass isn’t limitless.

When Mr. Park said he’d be Taeyong’s only point of contact, Taeyong asked why that is. Apparently, ‘it says on point 3.1 on the contract that this is a project position, and the photographers are probationary hires until the newspaper happens, and that will be the only time you could be considered for a permanent employment. That’s when you can meet the bosses.’ Yipee. His brain is too premature to dissect any of that.

Text 2: (Mrs. Gu) – Taeyong, I need the payment ASAP. Please don’t pretend you have an emergency because your fish forgot to breathe underwater, or you would be at a friend’s 74^th wedding, and that the door is locked – you can unlock it from the inside.

So he has to beg Mrs. Gu to give him a little more time until he gets paid and surely, he will able to cover his failed dues. She will understand. She has to.

Taeyong opens the Art! gc and finds nothing important after reading Min’s and Jihwa’s too-rich-for-his-blood banter, and moves back to his offline texts hoping to find a message from an unknown number containing a tip where Spider-Man is. Or better yet, a text from Spider-Man himself.

Nada. None from Spider-Man. It would be great if Spider-Man magically got his number and just texted him telling him to come over this 5-star hotel, I’m holding a presscon for my comeback. Some wishful thinking.

Taeyong wipes the bead of sweat down his temple with the back of his hand as he makes his way back to his place. It’s nearly 7pm. His stomach is grumbling and his legs are burning, and it’s only the first day. Don’t worry, he tells himself, nobody gets rich only after a day of working. It takes typical employees a gruelling month to get paid.

He’s thinking of what’s left in his fridge to eat when he gets back when he sees a well-lit store several feet ahead. The logo on the bright LED sign is the same one he saw stamped on one of the boxes Jaehyun was carrying last night.

Is this….?

Hurrying to the store, Taeyong holds his camera close to his chest and stops by the shop’s window full of donut display. Instantly, he sees his neighbor behind the counter wearing a cute apron with the same logo at the center, packing donuts for a lady customer. He waves enthusiastically, trying to call Jaehyun’s attention, but Taeyong realizes the other’s too busy to look away from work so he enters the store, grinning at the sound of chime  and lines up to wait until he can surprise the other.

They’re not even friends, and Jaehyun might not want to talk to him again, but Taeyong feels strangely excited about meeting him outside the apartment complex. Funny how he’s basically mute in school and would talk readily with his neighbor.

When it’s finally his turn, Jaehyun’s eyes comically widen, like a pair of saucers. Clearly not expecting to see him.

“Hi, Jaehyun. So you really own a store, huh?” Taeyong bounces once on his heels, honestly confused too as to why he’s acting the way he does. The last time he was genuinely happy talking to someone was when he met Jennie back in 7^th grade. “I was right!”

He receives an inquisitive brow-raising.

“Oh, I just used to wonder what you do for a living.”

“Mm. Are you buying?”

Taeyong’s smile drops a fraction. He glances at the other donut man who’s looking at him pointedly – Yibo, his nameplate says, and shyly steps aside so Jaehyun can serve the new customer.

They stare at each other for a few seconds before Jaehyun shakes his head. “Just take a seat and wait for me.”

Frankly, Taeyong expected to be told to leave since he’s not buying anyway. He looks at Yibo guy and shrugs before occupying the vacant two-seater round table at the corner, sparkly eyes roaming around the store’s pastel-themed interior. Whoever decided the colors and set-up is a pro.

Jaehyun disappears in what could be the staff room, so Taeyong turns on his camera and begins scanning the old photos he thankfully did not delete. He doesn’t really like taking pictures so when his dad gifted this camera to him two years ago, he only immortalized those closest to him – his parents. This kind of camera is expensive, so Taeyong only took pictures of his most important people. A lot of them are his mother, cooking and reading, some where she’s simply posing for the camera. His dad was shy, so his only solo pictures are of him doing something while unaware he was being photographed. Few pictures contain both his parents being the perfect couple they were, and even fewer are of their tiny family of three, cheeks squished against each other.

The pain is there in his chest, blooming weakly and slowly. He doubts it’ll go away anytime soon.

“It’s on the house.”

Taeyong looks up from their family picture as Jaehyun sets a glass of iced coffee and a plate of white-powdered donuts on the table, sitting across him. He quickly turns off his camera and gawks at the appetizing food. “Oh my god, seriously? Thank you!”

Not bothering to take off his apron, Jaehyun lets the boy dig in and slips both hands in his pockets, head tilted minutely to the right, amusement dull in his eyes. “Why are you here?” That must have come out wrong because Taeyong stops munching. “I don’t mean it that way. I’m just…curious. Were you just walking around?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Phew, Taeyong thought Jaehyun was pissed. He picks up the donut again and takes another bite, devouring the first one completely. “Do you make these? It’s so good!”

I can see that, Jaehyun muses as he eyes the white powder on the corner of Taeyong’s mouth. What a messy eater. A malicious hoot comes from the counter and Jaehyun shoots a swift glare at Yibo before leaning against the table, elbows resting on the surface. “No, I don’t. I have suppliers.” From this angle, he can look at the boy’s features closely. Very pretty. Taeyong squirms, cheeks pinking. “What do you study?”

“Did you figure out I’m a student? That’s cool.”

“You usually complain about essays when I find you in the hallway.”

Two blinks, then Taeyong’s smirking. “So you do pay attention. Anyway, I study Geology.” He holds up a hand as he sips his vanilla iced coffee. “Before you ask if that’s what I’m good at, I will tell you now – no. I’m not good at anything, literally. Is Geology fun? Maybe. Sheldon Cooper hates it, so that’s self-explanatory. According to him, you trip while walking and learn what the hell it is you tripped over. I had no idea what to take so I just randomly signed up. You could say that’s so irresponsible of me, but college isn’t for everyone, contrary to popular Asian belief. That time, I was honestly kinda optimistic about the whole thing. But now….eh. Just winging through it ‘til I graduate.”

So many words, yet Jaehyun can only focus on how pretty those lips are. This is why you don’t let your neighbor get to you. They stealthily overpower you with their beauty. Look once, and you can never look away again. Fatal mistake on his part. In his defense, no one should have such big eyes that could house your reflection under the lights. Those strong brows? So manly. That jaw? It’ll cut him and Jaehyun will say thank you. Don’t even remind him about the mouth. All in all, his neighbor Taeyong is a sight for the sore eyes. God bless him. Canonize this saint of beauty, quick.

How could Jaehyun ignore him? Ah, yes. <That> reason. Never mind.

“How old are you?”

“21.” Taeyong hums as he munches on the second donut. “What about you?”

“24.”

Three years. Not bad. Not bad for what? Taeyong mentally punches his premature brain. “So, before running this store, did you go to college or that’s not your thing too?”

“I dropped out. I was studying business, so I guess that didn’t entirely go to waste. You’re right. College is not for everyone.”

“Are you from Dong district? You know, I’ve been here all my life – not really, but 12 years is way too long.”

“…I’m from the Gwangsan district, originally,” Jaehyun says, taking note of the unreadable look in Taeyong’s gaze at the mention of his hometown. “You were working.”

Taeyong blinks away the news of his parents’ death and looks at his camera. Suddenly, the waves of exhaustion from his unsuccessful hunt crash back into him. “I didn’t see him, of course. It’s not as easy as looking for birds perched on a tree branch. This one could be standing atop the tallest tower or throwing himself from one building to another faster than I could blink.”

Jaehyun looks away. That’s true. In fact, he did all of that before. He saw the whole world before him and felt the wind smack his face as he cut through the air. Good times, bad times. This boy desperately needs help. “That’s quite troublesome.”

“You don’t say.” There really is no other way to describe it but hell, and its synonyms. “Are you not a fan? Usually, people would go manic knowing that someone works to stalk Spider-Man. You must not be one of them.” Squinting his eyes teasingly, Taeyong finally wipes the powder on his mouth with a tissue. “Nah, you don’t look like it.”

At the counter, Yibo pauses from wiping the surface. They discreetly exchange looks before he goes to Xiao Zhan, leaving Jaehyun to handle things on his own. It’s not like his boss to casually let someone know. For him and Xiao Zhan, it was inevitable.

“I’m not.” Jaehyun tongues the tip of his fang, willing himself not to spill.

“Oh well, me too. We’re not supposed to like something just because a lot of people like it anyway. But I gotta do this.”

The store is now empty, save by them. At this time of the day, most customers just get a quick takeaway instead of lingering. Thankfully, because Jaehyun doesn’t need a gossipmonger joining in on the conversation. That happened once back in Gwangsan. It can happen again. And he can deal with the deadliest enemies, but he doesn’t know how to deal with tattlers.

“Were you out since morning? Have you eaten anything before this?”

A bashful shade of red coats the apple of Taeyong’s cheeks as he puts down the empty glass. “You saw how fast I inhaled the donuts, right?”

Right. He shouldn’t have asked. With a small smile, Jaehyun gets up and takes the plate as well as the glass. “I’m closing up at 9. If you want to stay–”

He doesn’t get to finish the suggestion because Taeyong’s already nodding too fast Jaehyun fears he’d break his neck.

Humming once, the store owner leaves his neighbor and walks into the kitchen where the only gossipmonger he would swat the fuck out is waiting by the sink, wiggling his brows suggestively. “Stop it if you don’t want me doing the same thing when you trip over yourself talking to Xiao Zhan.”

“I heard my name!”

“You did not!” Yibo screams towards the direction of the toilet then looks at his boss again. “Does the kid know?”

“He’s 21. And he does not.”

Yibo takes the plate and glass from Jaehyun and begins washing them, not saying more. 

A light weight rests on his left shoulder as soon as Jaehyun disappears back to the counter. "What were you two talking about?"

Hiccups are the first symptoms of Yibo's pining diagnosis. God forbid he spits out a petal. Xiao Zhan knowingly grins before poking the younger's waist. "I should be the one hiccuping, Bo-di." 

How I wish dies on Yibo's tongue. His boss is just on his way down the hopeless crush road but he's been running along for years. 

They leave the store 30 minutes after 9. Taeyong finds out the two employees’ names, and that they worked for Jaehyun in Gwangsan too, and they’re currently roommates. He doesn’t have to play the game to know they’re not just friends but this time, Taeyong won’t delve deeper into it. It’s not fun when the information is true. It beats the purpose of the game, after all.

Jaehyun walks home every night from work and although his legs still hurt form hours of walking aimlessly, Taeyong doesn’t mind. Tonight is a little chillier than most so he crosses his arms hoping to provide himself some warmth. He can’t help studying Jaehyun’s clothes again. His neighbor is wearing a plain white shirt under a black and white plaid polo one size larger, the left flap tuck into his jeans. Taeyong didn’t even try more than the blue Astro Boy shirt and washed denim. There’s nothing special about Jaehyun’s fashion but he makes it fashionable, and Taeyong supposes that’s a talent not everybody has. His neighbor’s face deserves to be on the cover of Vogue, too.

They don’t talk but the silence is companionable. A question throbs in Taeyong’s mind: why did Jaehyun use to ignore him, and now, it appears that he has no problems holding a simple conversation? Taeyong is good at this, at giving himself answers without asking. He’s imaginative like that. Just don’t come up with undesirable conclusions, and he’s good to go.

“You always bring leftovers home?”

Jaehyun looks at the single box he’s carrying, smaller than the ones last time. “I don’t want to throw them out. Can’t resell them, too. It doesn’t taste as good as when it’s fresh. I let Yibo and Xiao Zhan take the rest home. It’s not…always like this. In Gwangsan, we sell them out most of the time. We’re pretty new here, so…”

Why did you leave Gwangsan, the new question is at the tip of Taeyong’s tongue. He swallows it down. They let the conversation die down and silently appreciate the peacefulness of the night. They pass by a close park, and Taeyong doesn’t stop the memories from flooding in. It’s one of the places they frequented as a family when he was younger. That swing on the far right, it’s a little rusty but he bets it still makes the kids laugh out loud as they push themselves off the ground. The sandbox next to it is untouched because there’s more cat poo than sand. Children prefer to chase each other down the twin slides, race within the play area, or ask their dads to help them hold on to the monkey bars. When he grew older, Taeyong ate burgers with his parents by the small grove on the left.

Turning on his camera, Taeyong stops for a moment to capture the park. Lit by several lamps, the emptiness is quite painful to look at. Jaehyun stops just behind him to looks at the photo he took.

“It would be better to take pictures during the day. Depends on the place. For parks like this, you should come when there are kids.”

“Why?” Taeyong looks up, throat bobbing at the proximity of their faces. And when Jaehyun meets his gaze, his heart bobs too, the copycat that it is.

“You don’t want to take sad pictures, do you?”

They’re unlocking their apartments at the same time when Taeyong goes for it. “Jaehyun, can I call you hyung?”

Jaehyun has to pretend that his doorknob is the most amazing thing in the world to keep Taeyong from seeing his pink cheeks. “Uh, sure. You should, really. I’m older than you.” Of course, of course. Hell, yes. That’s why. But that doesn’t explain why he’s freaking blushing just hearing his pretty neighbor call him hyung. Muttering a good night, he quickly gets in and makes sure not to slam the door.

Taeyong laughs to himself, shaking his head. “Some people really blush on the ears when they get shy? Cute.”

It was total chaos. Doc Ock experimented on himself in greed for a wild breakthrough in his career, and went mad when his plans shot down the drain. He wreaked havoc, involved a lot of innocent civilians–men, women, children, elderly. If Spider-Man didn’t come right on time, the Gwangsan cemetery’s population would’ve doubled. The Superhero fought fair and square and at the end of the day, Doc Ock met his downfall through his own hands after realizing that on the way to gaining something, he risked a lot, and it would still be meaningless.

The fight didn’t end in peace. Establishments were blown, buildings nearly collapsed. When two individuals possessing superhuman strength butt heads, things were a mess. And that was an understatement. Some lives were still taken despite the superhero doing his very best to save what he could. People ran here and there. Vehicles lost control. Spider-Man may be a hero, but he wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t God who could see everything. If he were, he would’ve shot out all the webs to make a wall so thick those cars wouldn’t ram into one another, wouldn’t pummel through those merely trying to go back home.

That’s why the media cannot move on. Three months later, the broken is still being fixed, while some have been abandoned as they are ruined beyond repair. And when people see them, they remember. The bereft are still grieving.

Jaehyun remembers the smell of blood in his hands. He had a cut on his head, nothing serious. After all, he was extraordinary and he heals faster than a normal person. The liquid ran down his mask. His flank pounded like a gong each time he breathed, only that it produced excruciating pain instead of noise. He broke a rib, but he didn’t have to go to the hospital. He’s not like the others. He’s special. The news rang in his ears, already swarming the TV even before he could leave the scene. He blames himself. There is no need to hear what the family of the victims said. They must hate him. He would make up for it. He just wanted to go home and let his grandpa make him some tea.

But when he walked through the door, the smell of blood only got stronger. Not because the injury on his head continued to bleed, but because his beloved grandfather lay there on the floor among the upturned furniture and broken ceramic, lifeless. From three gunshot wounds.

And nobody called for help.

Jaehyun remembers sobbing over the body, crying for hours until it went cold in his arms. His mask soaked in the pool of blood, his tear tracks pink. How could they? How could they hurt the kindest person in the world that loved Jaehyun unconditionally? Was it not enough that he helped without asking for anything in return? He wasn’t even a sinful person to be punished like this.

Or maybe it was the payment for all the lives lost during the fight. Maybe he didn’t have to say sorry anymore, because he lost someone, too. Maybe they didn’t hate him at all.

When the ambulance found the body later, it was alone.

His gasps for air are louder than the squawk of the cuckoo clock on the wall just above the headboard. Jaehyun shakily reaches for the glass of water on his bedside table and downs it in three huge gulps before pounding a fist on his chest, eyes wide and unsteady. It’s been a while since he dreamed of it. Why would it pester him again just when he’s settling in in a new environment?

When his breathing calms, Jaehyun pushes himself off the bed to wash his face in the bathroom. His head throbs. He’s looking for some Advil in the cupboard when someone knocks on his door.

Taeyong’s embarrassed face greets him when he opens it. The boy is still in his pajamas, barefoot.

“Good morning, hyung. May I bother you for something? I’m making instant ramen but I ran out of eggs. Just one would be fine.”

Jaehyun’s brows furrow from both the headache caused by his nightmare and the failure to understand why someone would willingly eat ramen for breakfast. “Instant ramen is not good for your health.” His frown passes over to Taeyong who crosses his arms defensively.

“But that’s the only food I have. Do you have eggs or not?”

Opening the door wider, Jaehyun gestures for the boy to come in. “I’ll make us some healthy breakfast instead.”

The frown on Taeyong’s face disappears, replaced by awe. “Really? Let me just,” he runs back to lock his unit and gets inside 302, mouth forming into a small ‘o’. “Wow, your place is so clean, hyung. Mine’s disastrous.” He follows Jaehyun and sits at the three-seater table by the window as Jaehyun quietly pads over to his mini kitchen. Everything in 302 is sooooo much better than 301. “Don’t you have to go to the store today?”

After dry-swallowing a pill, Jaehyun begins moving around to cook some kimchi fried rice. “They usually open up on Sundays…and I have a splitting headache.”

“Oh.” Worry laces Taeyong’s voice. “Sorry for bothering you.”

Jaehyun merely dismisses him with a wave and focuses on cooking. The hiss his food does makes Taeyong’s mouth water. And the smell, god, don’t even get him started.

For some reason, Jaehyun feels the need to fill the silence. “Do you live alone?”

“Mm.”

“Where’s your family?” The atmosphere was actually fine, but it seems to drop after he asked. Jaehyun doesn’t turn around to look and starts making coffee.

Taeyong keeps his eyes on the people milling about outside. When the ticking of the clock grows louder than he can tolerate, he takes a deep breath and stares at the muscles on Jaehyun’s back. They flex beneath his shirt when he moves. “I’m an only child. My parents are dead.”

It’s always hard to listen when people say it. And he doesn’t know how to properly offer condolences. Jaehyun brings their breakfast to the table and sits across from Taeyong. “I’m sorry.” That’s all he can give anyway, right?

Taeyong picks up the mug and softly blows on the scalding drink. “There were in Gwangsan. During the fight. They were looking for a new place we could move into.” He takes a small sip and sets it down, refusing to meet Jaehyun’s eyes. “They got in a car crash.”

It’s always hard to listen when people say it. Some he can ignore, but this….this, he can’t stomach. Jaehyun is fortunate that Taeyong isn’t looking at him because if he does, he will easily see all the guilt written across his face. And without confessing, Taeyong would know.

Jaehyun swallows a lump in his throat and burns his tongue with the coffee, hoping the pain alleviates his guilt.

Taeyong shakes the thoughts away and smiles, stealing a glance at Jaehyun, failing to see through the overt hurt brought by the hot drink. The other’s presence really brings the extrovert out of him. Letting someone know about that kind of lifts a bit of the heaviness in his heart. He says sorry, thinking he dampened the mood, but Jaehyun only gestures for him to start eating.

Good god, he wouldn’t trade this for some egg-less instant ramen.

Good thing that Jaehyun isn’t the type to chat while eating because Taeyong struggles to even moan out his praises. Don’t ask him how it is, it’s just that delicious. Must be some magic spell. Spoonful after spoonful they go in his mouth.

When he leans back to pat his stomach, Taeyong glimpses the inside of Jaehyun’s bedroom and sees the keyboard as well the guitar. “Hyung, you know how to play them?”

Without asking, Jaehyun knows what the boy is talking about.

Jaehyun blows on his coffee this time before drinking. He takes pride in his cooking skills but the knowledge Taeyong just dropped on him ruined his appetite. He can’t even look him in the eye. “I learned when I was a kid.”

Please don’t ask who taught me. Please don’t ask where they are.

“Wow, you’re really cool. Cooler than anyone I know. You own a business and you can play instruments. How does it feel to be above average, huh?”

Jaehyun dares meet the other’s gaze. “I’m not better than anyone.” He earns a snort.

“You’re better than me. I have no talent, and I’m not a good student. In 10 years you will see me begging for coins outside your store, homeless as fuck.” Taeyong feeds himself again, almost crying. This is as good as his mom’s cooking.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Of course. It’s just that I don’t know what to do. Hold up,” Taeyong covers his mouth, “I’m just having the best breakfast in a while, but please, do go on.”

A small smile appears on Jaehyun’s face. Taeyong still doesn’t know. “Focus on the present. You will figure it out later. The future is waiting for you, not rushing you.” Biting on the tip of the spoon, he watches the boy inhale more of the rice. “That good, huh?”

Taeyong nods, swallowing his food. “Well, I didn’t have to worry about stuff like this before because I had mom and dad and I used to help them at the market. That’s why I attend night classes. But since they you-know-what, I stopped helping there, too. Didn’t really see the point.”

He can’t eat anymore. Maybe Jaehyun even hates the smell of his own food. He’s looking pale, his head pulsates, he’s gonna get sick. From what? From so many reasons he can’t even choose what to believe in.

Taeyong is an orphan because of him.

Still he finishes it (only with the help of his coffee), and walks Taeyong to the door when the boy says his thanks.

“I needed that breakfast because I’m gonna be out to look for Spidey again.”

“…What time will you be going?”

“In thirty minutes?” Taeyong shrugs and thanks Jaehyun for the food again before disappearing back in 301.

Sitting on his bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, another on his drying hair, Jaehyun is hit with anxiety and trepidation as he looks at his open closet. It calls to him, even stronger now that he knows he’s got a bigger part to play in Taeyong’s problems.

I have atoned to it when they took grandpa from me.

Taeyong doesn’t know that, though, the voice of contrition in his head says, and Jaehyun agrees with it. The people in Gwangsan, he doesn’t know what they’re currently going through but here, he can see what the fight did to Taeyong, and he can’t just escape again.

Pushing himself off the bed, Jaehyun shuts off his mind as he grabs the costume and hastily puts it on, skin burning from the weight of responsibilities Spider-Man shirked. He turns his back from the closet, avoiding his reflection, and sends Yibo a text.

Emergency. Don’t wait for me.

They already know what it means.

Jaehyun leaves his phone on the bedside table and listens for Taeyong’s departure. His senses have been dulled when he forced himself to throw everything away. Could be the grief, the overwhelming emotions that drowned him since the fight.

The door to 301 closes. Taeyong descends the stairs.

Jaehyun goes back to his room and pokes his head out the window to see if anyone happens to be looking up, and crawls out, hands and feet sticking like glue on the walls.

Taeyong’s hope-o-meter is not impressive. For someone as young as him, his hope is only at 20% because of this stupid job his stupid self accepted. If he hadn’t already signed that contract, he might have woken up from his stupidity and gotten another job.

“What’s the use of grouching everyday? I’m already in this predicament. I denied Jennie’s help because she already did her part. Who else am I gonna ask if I thickened my face?” Taeyong meticulously looks around, not wanting to miss Spider-Man in case he decides to come see the sun today. “The stuck-up trio in Art class? Bleurgh. The only one I actually want to talk to in that class is Nakyum and I can smell that kid’s broke ass all the way from wherever he lives.” 

He’s been walking for nearly an hour when his feet take him into the quieter part of the district. It’s only 9am on a Sunday and everybody’s supposed to sleep in. Those with jobs are already working, and the children will not be allowed to play outside until 3. Taeyong looks at a beggar rummaging through a garbage bag and sidesteps him, afraid that the flying pieces of trash would hit him. As he’s ready to make a turn to the left of an old, closed hardware, Taeyong catches the flash of red and blue from atop the building before it disappears.

He freezes.

Taeyong gawks at the sky for a few seconds before clumsily turning on his camera. “S-spider–.” The sound of the beggar whining for food startles him and Taeyong follows the path Spider-Man took. He can’t be mistaken. He saw what he saw. And though he’s freaking the fuck out, he doesn’t want to yell out the superhero’s name in case there are other paps lurking. This job is a competition. He shouldn’t–

He really is in Dong-gu.

Spider-Man crawls across the wall of the old building, slowly, as though he’s certain he wouldn’t be seen. Taeyong scans their surroundings and snaps a few pictures, beginning to job as he follows the figure of red and blue. Heart thumping in chest, blood pulsing in his ears, Taeyong swears when Spider-Man leaps from one rooftop to the next like he’s just hopping over rocks in a river, and runs as the web-wielder finally shoots out a thick rope of web, hanging onto it as it throws him onto the next spot.

Taeyong has never seen Spider-Man in person before. And seeing him in the flesh now, freely moving about without the scare of his crazed followers, he finally understands why kids and even adults want to dress up as him on Halloween parties.

The man is graceful, strength so obvious from the way he flings himself and lands on any surface without difficulty. How even does he shoot out those webs? Where do they come from? His wrist? How the fuck–?

Camera clicks after camera clicks, Taeyong chases him as much as he can (Spider-Man doesn’t even seem to have a specific direction, like he’s actually leading Taeyong somewhere), until he trips over his own foot, bless his stupid fucking legs, and then he loses him.

Taeyong picks himself up and turns here and there, panting. The red and blue are nowhere to be found.

Spider-Man is gone.

“Oh, god…” Taeyong traces his path back towards his apartment, thinking of all the money he will get as soon as he gives the files to Mr. Park.

Once the card is in, and the photos are ready to be viewed, Taeyong checks whichever is clear enough. He deletes the ones too blurry to make out anything (he’s got a DSLR but he’s no talented photographer, thanks) and saves the rest in a flash drive. Mr. Park told him that if he’s got materials, he better hand it personally so they could both check it real-time.

25. He took 25 photos of Spider-Man, and only 10 of them survived, but…

“What the hell are these?” Mr. Park looks over the laptop at a squirming Taeyong and scowls back at the pictures. “You drank too much coffee or what? You got Parkinson’s? When you take photos, you steady your hands. How sure am I that I’m really looking at Spider-Man here? What am I even looking at?”

Alright. The ones that survived are actually still blurry, but less blurry than the 15 he deleted. Sue him. Taeyong dares to hover behind Mr. Park’s laptop to point at the photos. “Here, sir. See, those are his legs! And this one – that’s his hand shooting webs! I would’ve filmed him instead but I was panicking–“

The rolled up newspaper hits Taeyong’s head.

“Are you out of your mind? We’re a newspaper company. How the hell do you put a video on a newspaper, kid?” Mr. Park slams his laptop close, forcing Taeyong to go back to his seat. “These won’t do. We have other photographers and no one has reported yet since getting hired. Only you. And these aren’t even believable.”

“But I really saw him! He’s here in Dong-gu.”

“Is he,” Mr. Park reopens his laptop and scoffs at the pictures, shaking his head, “These photos look fake as fuck, buddy. For all I know, you edited these, got them from the old videos I can find all over the internet, slapped them into this and called it a day. You think I was born yesterday?” Ignoring the pained expression on the photographer’s face, Mr. Park leans back in his seat and props both feet on the desk next to the laptop. “Take your stick and go. Come back when you’re skilled enough to fool me.”

Biting his lower lip to stop himself from hurling insults at the other’s face, particularly about his fake as fuck moustache (that’s the fakest fuck in this goddamned room, asshole!), Taeyong excuses himself out of the office and doesn’t even bid miss receptionist a good bye as he jogs out of the building.

He expected this anyway. He knew the pictures were not even close to passable. Damn his clumsiness, and his lack of talent in everything. Why the hell was he born so fucking average? Taeyong curls his fists tightly, storming back to his apartment.

Back in the hub, Mr. Park looks at the pictures once again together with his assistant, and grins.

“You told them how much we’re gonna get if one of them manages to find Spidey?”

“It’s in the contract.”

“How much exactly? The real thing?”

Mr. Park haughtily laughs at the burly man and swipes over to the next photo, of Spider-Man jetting out wrist webs.

“Nothing they need to know.”

Regret always comes to bite your ass when you finally realize you should’ve thought better in the first place.  Taeyong should’ve chosen a course that would let him work with comic books because right now, Geology isn’t fucking doing it for him. Nothing manages to take his mind off his failure yesterday. Not even Nakyum finally smacking Jihwa right across the face could make him feel better.

Walking back to his apartment feels like trudging through three feet of mud with a ball-and-chain attached to both ankles. Taeyong just wants to fall into the embrace of his warm, unmade bed and sleep for a week until he loses his memory. At least if he gets interrogated, they can file for insanity, or whatever they can with his dumb head.

He thought getting called to the office by one of his professors for his low grades was the worst to happen today, but alas. Mrs. Gu standing in the hallway before his door takes the cake.

 “Mrs. Gu–”

“I told you I’d drop by, Taeyong.”

Taeyong puts his bag down. “B-but I texted you. I asked for another month because I just got hired.”

Mrs. Gu is like Ms. Yang because she radiates a motherly aura, too. Perhaps because she’s actually a mother, but there’s something about the lines of her face that convinced Taeyong’s mom she deserved the kimbap rolls the Lees made that one time nearly a decade ago. Right now, though, Mrs. Gu is anything but approachable.

“Taeyong, you already missed two months. I understand that it’s hard for you right now but I have bills to pay, too. My Joori cannot halt her ballet lessons. My husband got furloughed. This is the only business we’re depending on.” She uncrosses her arms, lessening the authoritative atmosphere around her.

“But where am I gonna get the money? Mom and dad had debts I paid with what little they left. I had to choose which ones to pay first…”

Taeyong is so tired and he really just wants to sleep.

Please, Mrs. Gu. Get the hell out of my face.

The two of them ignore Jaehyun as he arrives and walks past to get to his unit. Jaehyun puts the box of donuts down to fish for his keys, listening. Taeyong and their landlady talk for another minute. Suddenly, Jaehyun’s keys are missing.

“Two months is enough. I’d been too kind, Taeyong. If I have to give you a chance, I have to give the others a chance, too. And then I’m not going to earn anything. What is my family gonna eat?”

I don’t even know what I’m gonna eat tonight. Taeyong runs a hand though his hair and sighs, murmuring a promise that he’ll try to find money as soon as possible.

Mrs. Gu relents and tells him she will return in two weeks and leaves, but not before greeting Jaehyun warmly (because he pays on time and has advance deposit).

Jaehyun unlocks his door and pushes it open. “Come in.”

Taeyong picks up his bag, head tilted in confusion. “Huh?”

Without an explanation, Jaehyun enters his place expecting Taeyong to follow, which the latter does. He puts the box on the dining table and removes his plaid polo as Taeyong plops on the couch.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that…”

Jaehyun grabs two bottles of water from the fridge and hands one to Taeyong before leaning against the dining table, right foot crossed over the left one. “How was the search yesterday?” He asks, wanting to divert the topic to another…equally distressing one. Nice job. “I didn’t get to ask you what happened.”

Taeyong watches his neighbor drink and does the same, all of a sudden noticing how parched he is. “Well, I was so depressed I made it a point not to go out of 301. They didn’t accept the pictures. Everything was so blurry, they didn’t know whether to believe Spider-Man is back or think I faked the photos. And I had nothing to help me prove it’s true but my own eyes.” Recalling how Mr. Park dismissed angers Taeyong once again.

“And maybe it really was just a dream, you know? I waited for the news but they are still clueless, asking where Spider-Man went.”

Jaehyun stares at his bottle of water. That’s because I made sure to lead you somewhere safe.

“Pretty sure a station played a tribute last night like they were so sure he’s already dead. Maybe I was hallucinating. I have an odd habit of imagining stuff, hyung. I must have imagined it all. No one aside from me followed him yesterday.”

Quietness accompanies them for a while as Jaehyun rearranges his thoughts. “Only druggies hallucinate to that extent. Try again. Perhaps he comes out at night, too.”

Taeyong combs his hair with a hand again, something he does by reflex when he gets too stressed. “Hyung, do you believe me? I saw him.”

“I do.” Jaehyun doesn’t even try to hesitate. Apparently he did the right thing, because Taeyong looks a little less despondent and a little more optimistic. An idea hits him and then he’s tossing Taeyong two cans of Fanta, and picking up the box of donuts.

“What’s going on?”

Jaehyun cocks his head to the door. “Let’s eat at the rooftop.”

What does this mean? Two bros chilling at the rooftop, two feet apart ‘cause they’re….friends?

Taeyong quietly thinks about it as they share the box of donuts, legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop while they absorb the beauty of Dong-gu at night. It’s the second smallest district within the province, housing probably less than five attractions–if they don’t count the face of his neighbor.

Whatever this is, though, he’s glad he followed Jaehyun. He doesn’t get to stargaze this way a lot.

“No fear of heights?”

“I guess that’s the only cool thing about me. Hyung, you like reading?”

Jaehyun raises a brow, chewing on his donut. “Sure. Sometimes. I read novels.” A plane slowly traverses the dark sky, miles and miles and miles away, blinking red and green lights. Like an anomaly amongst the stars, but one more favored.

Taeyong brushes the powder off his fingers and gets another donut, too hungry to care about fair division. “I like reading comics. There’s a comic store a few blocks from here and I go there when they have a sale. They’ll have another sale soon but I’m too broke to even get the ₩3000 comics. The recent one I read was The Odyssey. Got a small pile of them in my place. If you want, I can lend you some.”

“That sounds great.”

“Of course, it’s great!” Taeyong chuckles, popping his Fanta open. “Hey, wanna play a game?” Not waiting for an answer, Taeyong leaves his spot and gathers scattered stones. When he has enough, he sits again and hands Jaehyun his stones. “Whoever throws the farthest, wins.”

Jaehyun takes the Fanta from Taeyong, fearing he’d drop it. “How do you know how far it’d be? It’s dark and the next rooftop is 20 or so feet away.”

Intuition, Taeyong tells him. But Jaehyun’s vision is so razor-sharp even in the dark that he can spot where his stone will land from 20 feet away.

So they play the game, both of them getting five turns, and Taeyong predictably declares himself the winner although Jaehyun knows his stone went the farthest. As a prize, he gives up his remaining share of donuts to Taeyong.

With no more donuts to eat, Jaehyun is contented gazing up the stars while the boy next to him happily gobbles up is sweet prize. Palms braced behind him, Jaehyun tries to connect one start to the next, hoping to make an animal out of it.

“I want to fly.”

When he looks into Taeyong’s eyes, Jaehyun thinks he’s still looking at the sky. Taeyong’s eyes got their own pools of black with spots that twinkle irregularly.

“I wanna grow some wings and fly. I’ve always wondered how it would feel like to witness everything happening below you. Bet it’d make me feel like a god. Like I’m invincible. Because if I could fly, there’s nothing I can’t do.” Taeyong chuckles, rubbing his nose. “Got any dreams, hyung?”

Jaehyun pretends to think thoroughly. “Mm, I want to own more donut stores.” He loves donuts so much. A smile breaks out from his face as Taeyong giggles, thinking he’s joking around. That’s true, though.

And then he’s not smiling anymore because Taeyong’s suddenly walking over the edge, right foot, left foot, right again, arms spread out like airplane wings. “Hey, Taeyong. That’s dangerous.”

“Is it?” Taeyong glances over his shoulder and Jaehyun’s heart nearly leaps up his throat. “Hyung, if Spider-Man is real, my dream could come true, too. How else are we gonna know if I had hidden wings in my back all along,” he looks down, estimating maybe 12 meters between him and the cement, “if I don’t trigger them?”

“I’m serious.” Jaehyun stands up, dusting off his jeans. “Please, Taeyong. Come here.”

Taeyong, the nuisance that he is, merely laughs before pretending to fall – and he must be that good of an actor because it takes Jaehyun a nanosecond to get there, dragging him off the edge with an arm wrapped around his waist. Their bodies pressed against each other.

Honest to god, this boy is going to kill Jaehyun faster than his guilt. “Do you have a death wish?” His anger would’ve been more convincing if he raised his voice a notch higher, but Taeyong is still laughing against him, deaf to his berating. Jaehyun lets go of his neighbor and picks up the empty donut box. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Taeyong says through a feat of giggle, taking his Fanta from Jaehyun. “I really saw Spider-Man. Spider-Man would catch me if I fall. Nah, I’m kidding. I don’t know that.”

“He will.” Once again, Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate.

Grinning behind the can, Taeyong follows his neighbor as they head back. “Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.”

The door chimes and before Jaehyun could look up to greet the new customer, a chirpy voice beats him to it.

“Hi, hyung!”

It’s been two days since their rooftop dinner. They didn’t meet yesterday because they didn’t always have to. Jaehyun leaves early for work and only gets the chance to see Taeyong at night when they coincidentally arrive home. The student got back 10 minutes after Jaehyun did, and the latter was preoccupied.

Jaehyun grabs a roll of straw and starts boxing some orders. “Are you buying?”

“Actually, yes.” Taeyong leans against the counter, arms on the surface. “I feel bad– I’m planning to sit for a while so I gotta get something, at least.”

A blink, then, “No– no, you don’t have to. I was kidding.” Maybe Jaehyun needs to practice his inflection so Taeyong doesn’t have to misunderstand his intentions again and again. “Just wait for me.”

Taeyong’s nose scrunches when he chuckles. “Heh, you’re spoiling me. But thanks, ‘cause I’m saving up for dinner.” He leaves the counter and occupies the same table, placing his camera before him.

Someone else comes in asking for the reservation she made earlier. Jaehyun quickly finishes boxing and is handing over her order when he notices the man by the second table get up and approach Taeyong to shamelessly ask for his number.

Yibo is left gaping like a fish as Jaehyun quickly snatches the drink from his hand meant for another customer, whispering an order for him to get another one. Do all bosses act out of character when a cute guy comes in their store or what? Closing his mouth, Yibo fetches a new drink and mentally hopes Jaehyun isn’t leaving the damn counter for nothing.

Slam.

Taeyong flinches in his seat, looking between Jaehyun and the sloshing orange juice he just put on the table. He opens his mouth but Jaehyun speaks over him.

“Excuse me. This is my seat.”

The guy raises a brow and takes a step back. “Alright, but I wasn’t gonna sit anyway. I just asked for–”

“He’s with me.”

From the counter, they can hear Yibo grumble oh my god. Taeyong awkwardly scratches his nape as the guy backs off, hands up in surrender and leaves the store without another word. The seat across his gets pulled and Jaehyun sits down, wiping the little mess he made with a rug.

“What was that all about?” Baffled amusement spikes Taeyong’s question as he takes the orange juice and stirs it with the bamboo straw.

Jaehyun keeps the rug away and sighs. “There’s a lot of bad guys around here.”

“You’d think that since I’ve been living in Dong-gu far longer than you, I’d know who’s bad and who’s not.” The cold, pulpy juice refreshes the student instantly as Taeyong takes a few sips. “He just asked for my number.”

“Which could lead to a lot of unfavorable consequences. Like what? Kidnapping, murder. Something else even worse than that. Do you know him?”

Taeyong cannot be too sure, but Jaehyun definitely sounds sort of jealous. Ridiculous. It’s a very foreign concept because nobody had ever been jealous because of Taeyong. Jealous of what, sitting at the same table with him? So high school-y.

Smiling now, Taeyong fondly shakes his head. “I’m with you?”

It takes Jaehyun a second too late to answer. “You came here for me.”

“That’s so presumptuous of you, hyung. I could’ve come for the donuts.” The sight of Jaehyun squinting makes him laugh.

“Me and the donuts,” Jaehyun says because it can’t be possible that Taeyong is here again just for the donuts. The boy is clearly the type to snack on junk foods more than sweet treats. “Have you been in this area before?”

“Not really. The market is at the opposite road.”

“Exactly. I’ve been here longer than you.”

“He doesn’t even look like a kidnapper.”

“Kidnappers don’t need to wear a placard saying they’re kidnappers.”

Taeyong giggles over the rim of his glass, pink lips pressed against it. The moisture they leave keeps Jaehyun’s eyes on them. Darn it. “I don’t get you.”

“I’m protective.” Somehow, it makes Taeyong laugh even more, and Jaehyun is clueless of the reason as well as the malfunctioning of the boy’s possibly fault heart. He focuses instead on the camera on the table that was thankfully untouched by the spill because if he keeps listening to the sound of Taeyong’s laughter, Jaehyun might do something very illogical – like record it and play it when things get rough. “You were looking for him again.”

And now the guilt is back.

Taeyong pats his chest, tongue-ing the pulp stuck to upper lip. “Ahuh. He’s not around. You might be on to something when you said Spider-Man might come out at night, too. After class, I’ll try again.”

Jaehyun nods and proceeds to fold a tissue like an origami, and silence stretches between them without the need to be filled. Soft murmurs float all over the store though, courtesy of the few customers that enjoy sitting in for a while.

Five minutes have passed when Taeyong commences the game. “Her name is Allison, age 27, working for a fashion magazine. She’s not an assistant to the fickle EiC, hence she’s here, not rushing through traffic carrying a portfolio in one hand and a drink in the other, losing her footing on the curb when she flags a cab.”

“…What?”

“I’m playing.” Taeyong’s posture relaxes as he goes into it. “Remember when I said I love imagining? The girl behind you– don’t look. I know her.”

Jaehyun pushes forward the boat he made out of a tissue, offering it to Taeyong who takes it. “And how do you know her?”

Taeyong shrugs. “My mind said so. This is what I do when there’s so much time and not much to kill it. Hyung, I don’t mean you bore me, okay? So… Allison came back from America, all highlights and Balayage. She stopped here in your store for a meeting. Quite peculiar, right? Usually they’d pick a restaurant, but the donut store is less conspicuous. Anyway, Allison is sick of being the underdog so she wants to rethink her life choice and explore. She loves exploring, that’s why she has a copy of all of Grace’s dirty little secrets printed on two papers in Palatino Linotype font.”

When Jaehyun cautiously checks, the woman is indeed reading something. “Who’s Grace?”

“The actual assistant of the EiC?” Taeyong plays with the tissue paper boat, pretending it’s sailing across the ocean aka the dry ass table. Jaehyun thinks it’s adorable. “You see, the company has strict principles. Grace slept with the operations manager. Allison got tip. How she found one? Allison is calculating.”

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, arms crossed. Taeyong ignores the way his sleeves stretch for his muscles. “Allison’s blackmailing will work and Grace is going to resign. Better than getting fired, dignity intact. Predictably, Allison fills her role. But Grace isn’t 100% a pushover. She’s just as cunning as Allison. How does she know that? Because Allison did the same thing Grace did. Sleep with ops manager to get a tip. Grace doesn’t have anything more to lose now that she’s jobless so she exposes both Allison and Arthur.”

The chime breaks their conversation and in comes a short-haired woman, far more sophisticated-looking than Allison, and takes the seat across hers.

A smirk forms on Jaehyun’s face when he looks back at Taeyong. “And the extortion begins.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment before Taeyong chuckles in relief, finishing his juice. “I thought you’d call me weird.”

“Only if I were Allison and I heard what you’d been spouting about me.” Jaehyun looks at his watch and hums. “We got more time.”

“We?” Grinning, Taeyong launches into another story, inspired by the crotchety man standing in front of the store, seemingly waiting impatiently. And while he loses himself in his imagination, Jaehyun contentedly listens, unaware of the smile on his own face.

Taeyong would make a good storyteller someday, he thinks.

Jaehyun closes up the store at exactly 9pm, seeing both Yibo and Xiao Zhan cross the street before heading home. Taeyong told him he’d be looking for Spider-Man again after class, so he should be on his way now. As soon as he steps into his unit, Jaehyun gets changed and surreptitiously leaves through the window to find the nearest college. 

He doesn’t have to look too far because he spots Taeyong right away, coming out of a quaint pizzeria. Jaehyun hides behind the vent on a rooftop, thinking of how he can call Taeyong’s attention without attracting another’s, when the base of skull tingles, hot and dull, the signal of an incoming danger. Senses heightening, Jaehyun’s gaze darts over to the man following Taeyong. To none the wiser, it may look harmless. But Jaehyun is different, and he recognizes that man as the guy in his store asking for Taeyong’s number.

He scans the area. Too many people. Surely, this man won’t risk kidnapping his neighbor where everyone can easily call the cops, right? Carefully, Jaehyun follows them. Wherever Taeyong goes, the man tails. 20 steps behind, never more, never less. Conniving.

And the second Taeyong arrives at a more secluded area, the man hastens his pace.

Taeyong gasps in shock and turns as a grunt comes from behind. Eyes catching on too slow, all he sees is a white haze and the next thing he knows, the guy from the store is cocooned in a spider web from neck to toe and stuck to an actual, giant cobweb hanging between two trees.

Spider-Man snaps towards him and for a second Taeyong is certain the superhero stared right into his soul before the former takes himself out of there, web jetting out of both wrists to hike him up the air.

“Wait!”

Taeyong grasps his camera, cursing as he runs to where Spider-Man is going. Like the first time, it feels like the other’s leading him somewhere than escaping. It only fuels his theory when Taeyong finds himself back in the same, empty street and this time, Spider-Man didn’t leave him hanging.

He approaches warily, heart stuck in his throat and nerves pulsing with both awe and simmering anger. He couldn’t get mad last time, too preoccupied with the desperate need to get paid. Now, now that he knows Spider-Man really is alive and very real, standing before him, Taeyong’s thoughts are going haywire.

Casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed and a foot propped behind, Spider-Man unnervingly watches every step closer. The whites of the eyes on his mask, although concealing his gaze, is certainly directed at the rapid play of emotions flashing on Taeyong’s face.

“Do you know I’d been following you?” Taeyong’s voice quivers a bit. “I took pictures of you four days ago. Were you…were you leading me here?”

“Why would I do that?” Spider-Man’s voice is slightly muffled by his mask and Taeyong cannot think of an exact adjective to describe it. “You’re an invasive pap.”

Jaehyun winces. He didn’t want to be so accusatory yet he can’t let his front down easily. If he comes off too familiar, too Jaehyun, who knows? Taeyong might put two and two together.

Taeyong refuses to be disconcerted. “Where have you been? I have– I have questions. Why did you disappear? Why did you–”

“Why did I what?”

Is the man purposely being obtuse or what? Irritation bubbles in Taeyong’s chest and he wipes the lone, angry tear down his cheek. “Some people died. My parents were there and then they were not. Why didn’t you help them?” His tone grows more demanding, more forlorn. “Where did you go? Did you simply run away?”

Spider-Man’s lack of outward reaction to the questions give nothing away, further frustrating Taeyong. “You don’t seem like the typical pap. Why do you want my pictures?”

“I need the money. They want you on the newspapers.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You can’t refuse!” Taeyong looks back in panic and hides himself in the mouth of the alley. “Come on, aren’t you a fucking superhero? Do me a favor and help me pay my fucking bills.” He aims the camera, ready to snap a few photos when it gets taken away by a string of white. Taeyong tries to grab it from Spider-Man’s hands.

Raising the camera as high as he can (and that’s not a crazy feat because the boy is significantly shorter than him), Spider-Man plants a hand on Taeyong’s chest to gently push him away. “My privacy, my rules. Are you willing to listen?”

Taeyong snaps incredulously. “Why am I the one that has to listen?”

“How many pictures do you need?”

“…As many as possible. The more I give them, the more money I’ll get.”

Spider-Man pauses for a moment to look at the camera, already switched on and flashing a heartbreaking picture of Taeyong’s family. He got his mother’s smile. The superhero grips it tightly as he comes to a decision. “…You will meet me on the schedule I will give you. Here, nowhere else. Follow that strictly.”

“You bet I will,” Taeyong says as he successfully takes his camera back. “And you make sure I will find your ass here. But seriously– here? It’s scary–”

“I know. Can’t let any more paps see me. I’ve been missing for a reason.” Spider-Man presses both hands and a foot against the wall to propel him, and begins to crawl up the building. A click of the camera echoes with the wind. “That better get you your coins.”

“Wait.” Taeyong raises his head tauntingly. “Are you helping me because you’re guilty of the lives you couldn’t save?”

Spider-Man’s clothed fingers dig into the bricked wall. “You already know that, don’t you? You’re smart.”

There’s a light bounce in his steps when Taeyong leaves his apartment to go to Mr. Park, ready to hand in his evidence, the proof of his pure dedication. Hah! He’s so excited to hear the praises and most importantly, he believes an apology is in order. Mr. Park castigated him last time and Taeyong deserves a series of I’m sorry’s first, then a cheque after.

When Spider-Man left, Taeyong was surprised he wasn’t livid. He was mad, sure, but not enough to kick the wall and stomp angrily on his way home. Rather, the sadness and exasperation evaporated the second he saw his shots in the computer – probably due to the fact that Mrs. Gu will be off his back soon. And if Spider-Man isn’t bluffing with the schedule, that he’s really gonna make up for Taeyong’s loss, things will start to loosen up for him.

He couldn’t deliver the good news to Jaehyun because 1) he was too tired to get off his bed and 2) Jaehyun came home late. He was probably out with Yibo and Xiao Zhan or the others Taeyong do not know of, because the student stayed up for another hour and when the jangling of keys and familiar sound of 302’s door closing didn’t reach him, he figured a good night’s sleep should be prioritized. He can always tell Jaehyun later anyway.

“Hello, good morning!”

“You’re in a good mood.”

Taeyong grins at the receptionist before entering Mr. Park’s office. Thankfully, that huge man is nowhere to be found because his presence makes Taeyong’s uneasy.

“Oh, Taeyong. I wasn’t expecting you today.” Mr. Park abandons his laptop and smiles up at the photographer, gesturing for him to sit down. “Got something to show me?”

Got something to put you in your place, Taeyong mentally retorts as he sets the flash drive on the desk. “You might want to check the pictures, sir.” The pictures with an –s, that’s right. Taeyong managed to sneak another photo just as Spider-Man climbs the top of the building.

Mr. Park takes the flash drive, internally seething at the confidence oozing out of the boy. Promptly, he inserts the stick and immediately opens the only folder it has. “Mm, these are…very clear pictures.” He’s not expecting that. These are undeniably passable…and more authentic. Is it possible that the boy really found Spider-Man? When they started this, they didn’t know that for sure. Mr. Park hears the phantasmal ka-ching.

“Good work,” Mr. Park says as he saves the pictures and returns Taeyong’s flash drive. He then waves dismissively. We’ll authenticate these. You can go.”

Taeyong’s smile drops, wrenched by the dismissal like an anchor plummeting into the deepest trench, tugging his mouth upside down. “What do you mean?”

“We have to verify these first. Honestly, these aren’t even good shots. Still too dark to be on frontpage, and he’s not looking into the camera. I can totally make out the figure now, though. And for your information, Taeyong, the others submitted their shots already.”

They’ve seen him…? I thought Spider-Man lead me there because he doesn’t want to be found by more paparazzi? “Were they better than mine?”

Mr. Park rolls the end of his moustache, sighing. “They were all edited.”

Taeyong springs out of his seat. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying? My shots are real. How many times will I–,” he pauses, pulling himself together. “I can’t use Photoshop to save my life, sir. When am I gonna get paid?”

“Didn’t you read the contract?” Mr. Park tuts in irritation as Taeyong guiltily looks away. “You’re getting paid when the newspaper comes out.”

An explosive what! Threatens to bust his eardrums.

“Kid, we’re a start-up. Be patient, alright?”

Taeyong’s situation doesn’t require patient! He rubs a hand down his face. “And when is the newspaper coming out?”

“Once we finish gathering all the juiciest scoops.”

“What are you, a magazine?”

Mr. Park squints, warning. “Don’t use that tone with me, young man. If you don’t want to work, just tell me and you can go. And since the payment is commission-based, if you don’t give us something good enough, you’re not receiving a cheque.” Facing his laptop again, he begins typing. “I’ll email you once the photos are verified.”

Needless to say, Taeyong cannot concentrate in classes. He zones out, doesn’t even bother to do better when he fails to answer a question, and when he gets sick of Jihwa’s inconsequential blabbering in the gc, Taeyong blocks him then leaves the group. Fuck him. Serves him right.

Hauling his ass out of there as soon as the bell rings, Taeyong doesn’t plan to go straight home yet. He’s furious, despondent, and there’s no one to catch all the punches he wants to throw. Taeyong storms to the tteok-bokki stall next to the pizzeria and orders two bottles of soju, dumping his bag next to his feet.

“Are you with someone?”

The ahjumma owner puts the bottles on his table. “These are pretty heavy if you’re drinking alone.”

Taeyong doesn’t need the reminder, thank you very much. Nevertheless, he smiles at her politely and opens the first bottle, already pouring some for himself. “Don’t worry, ahjumma. I’m celebrating.”

Clearly not, especially when he starts bawling his eyes out thirty minutes later, disturbing the other diners. Who could blame him? Taeyong misses his parents so much. Memories of his mom and dad painting the walls of their apartment a warm green because it was his mom’s favorite color pummel into his brain. Her laughter as she played around with paint with his dad rings like a set of ice cream bells.

“Mom, I don’t wanna study anymore…” Taeyong sobs drunkenly, filling yet another shot glass. Tears and snot cascade down his blotchy face. “I have no money. Mrs. Gu will kick me out!”

Two diners kindly approach him, offering tissues which Taeyong takes to blow his nose into. They pat his back, comforting him and even paying for his drinks, but nothing will make Taeyong feel better. He wants his mom and dad back. He wants his Jaehyun hyung.

Jaehyun paces in the hallway, worry drawn on his face. It’s already 11pm and Taeyong isn’t home yet. He’s not really supposed to be out so late because Spider-Man won’t be at their meeting place until tomorrow.

Maybe he’s stuck in school or the library, doing a project. Maybe he’s at a classmate’s. Taeyong is not in danger – that, he’s certain of. His nape is cool from the air conditioner in his unit, tingling sensation absent. But Jaehyun’s heart is beating too fast somehow and he can’t help the sudden images conjuring in his head remembering the man from last night.

Speaking of that, he shouldn’t have displayed the man in such a manner. The townspeople have begun suspecting it was Spider-Man’s doing. Just his luck that ever since his disappearance, pranks by people with nothing better to do sprung left and right, claiming to be Spider-Man. The media are tired of driving here and flying there only to be met with a confession that it was just a bunch of high school kids sewing straws into makeshift cobwebs in preparation for Halloween.

He’ll be more careful next time.

Jaehyun stops pacing when he hears a heavy set of footsteps, like it was dragging a dead weight. His eyes widen as Taeyong reaches the floor, drunk out of his goddamned mind, slurring indecipherably. Without thinking twice he helps the poor boy walk straight and when Taeyong says he doesn’t know where his keys are, Jaehyun brings him to 302.

“What happened to you?” Obviously, he won’t get a clear answer. Shaking his head, Jaehyun guides the younger man into his bed. After putting the book bag away, he removes Taeyong’s shoes and socks. Jaehyun argues with himself for a minute before deciding Taeyong shouldn’t sleep in his jeans so he takes that off, too, and then struggles to get those legs in his sweatpants.

“Mom…dad…please come back…” Taeyong sniffles as he tugs on the blanket, swollen eyes shut. “I miss you so badly…”

It’s a good thing that the drunk boy falls asleep instantly because he doesn’t need to hear the shattering of Jaehyun’s heart as the latter regretfully whispers a ‘sleep tight’ on his forehead.

It’s not the cuckoo clock that wakes Jaehyun at 6 in the morning, but Taeyong’s disgusting vomitting in the bathroom. He thinks he’s scarred and he’s going to hear that for one whole week. Instantly, he leaves the couch and rubs the boy’s back while Taeyong throws up more in the toilet bowl, nearly sobbing.

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. Brush your teeth first then come out for breakfast.”

Jaehyun has been coming late to the store. When Taeyong fell asleep, he immediately informed the two that he wouldn’t be opening Cream Donuts, and that if he isn’t there at 7, he wouldn’t be coming at all. Yibo and Xiao Zhan can handle the business for one day. And he should probably give them a raise, too.

Taeyong is dragging himself out of the bathroom when Jaehyun turns the stove on. “You look like shit.”

“Telling me that won’t cure my headache, hyung.” Dropping himself on the chair, Taeyong pillows his head on the table using his arms, groaning. “How did I get here…? I don’t remember a thing. And these are not my sweatpants – it doesn’t have a hole in the right pocket.”

“You said you didn’t know where your keys were so I brought you here. Changed you into my sweatpants, too because the jeans looked uncomfortable.” Jaehyun’s brows furrow as he glances at Taeyong over his shoulder. “I hope you didn’t lose your keys, and that you have at least one sweatpants without a hole in the pocket. There’s Advil in my cupboard.”

“My keys… They should be in my bag. And I have decent clothes, hyung.” Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Taeyong leaves the table – but not without stubbing his toe first, yelping dramatically. When he finds the pill, Taeyong swallows it dry and peeks at what Jaehyun is doing. “Haejangguk?”

Jaehyun puts aside the sauce he made and washes his hands so he can prepare the soup. “It’ll be ready soon. Does your head hurt a lot?” Fondly, Jaehyun pats the boy’s hair to flatten the strands, chuckling when Taeyong wrinkles his nose. “You shouldn’t have drunk so much.”

“I needed it,” Taeyong says on his way back to the dining table. “I met Spider-Man the other night, hyung. He’s alive. He’s really here in Dong-gu. Just my luck. Who would’ve thought?”

Chopping the green onions, Jaehyun schools his features even though Taeyong cannot see from where he is. “…Really? That’s… that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Where were you though?”

“I was held back in Cream Donuts.”

“Thought so. Anyway, I submitted the pictures to Mr. Park but I can’t get paid yet because they still need to verify it. With whom, I don’t know. Said he’d email me. I should probably check my phone…”

“Pictures?”

“That’s what you got from what I said?” Taeyong grumbles, massaging his throbbing toe. “Spider-Man only let me take one picture but I snapped another one just in case. So, I’m not getting paid yet but I’ll meet Spider-Man again then I’ll take better pictures. Turns out even if I gave him nice shots I’m not getting paid until the newspaper comes out.”

Reducing the heat to medium-low, Jaehyun stirs beef with some sauce while waiting for the broth to simmer. “What a pain. Commissions?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Did you not read the contract?”

“That’s what he asked. I didn’t.”

Seems like Jaehyun will be perpetually frowning whenever Taeyong relays his problems with his job. They do not talk as they wait for the soup to finish, and the moment it is served (some sandwich for a sober Jaehyun), Taeyong wastes no time nursing his headache.

“Hyung, I love you already.”

Jaehyun nearly chokes on his breakfast. “Stop talking and eat.”

“But I can’t. Normally, I don’t talk to anybody. But with you hyung, I can’t help it. I like talking to you.” Taeyong blows on his soup and sips, sighing happily. “I remember now why I drank so much.”

Jaehyun waits for him to explain.

“I got so mad at Mr. Park because he kept implying that I edited the pictures. I think he just wants me to give him more. And then all my problems just started pouring, you know, like a cloudy storm. That’s what I felt like. Mrs. Gu’s coming back in another week and I miss mom and dad a lot.” Taeyong sniffles and rubs his eyes. At that moment, he looks younger than his age and Jaehyun feels so fucking bad. “Hyung, I think I looked for you last night.”

“Mm?”

“When I was drinking. I was crying and calling your name. Because I wanted to talk to someone.”

“…I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have known, hyung.” Smiling, Taeyong pokes the older man’s hand and tells him to keep eating. “Plus, you’re here now. I feel better. I’m happy.”

Jaehyun hides the tiny smile through a big bite of his sandwich. “Really?”

“Sure.”

Laughing softly, Jaehyun fetches them some water. “Go back to your apartment after breakfast and take a shower. Think you can go out today?”

“My classes are at night.”

“Skip school tonight. We’ll be going to the supermarket in two hours.”

Taeyong blinks a few times. “Are you doing your groceries?”

Jaehyun simply finishes his food and tells Taeyong he’ll be showering now, leaving the boy to picture a naked Jaehyun under the water spray. Knowing that his hyung has got some impressive muscles under those clothes, a furious blush colors Taeyong’s pale cheeks. That pushes him to quickly clean his bowl then run to 301 with his stuff to take a cold shower of his own.

They get off the bus, and Jaehyun leads the way inside the supermarket with a whining Taeyong next to him, still trying to convince him this is unnecessary. “Get everything you need and don’t worry about the price. When I got in your place earlier to pick you up, I saw your fridge. You shouldn’t have a fridge if you have nothing to put inside.”

Scratching his head, Taeyong huffs. “That’s why I’m planning to discard it.” It’s been a while since the last time Taeyong stepped foot in the supermarket and as stupid as it sounds, he feels slightly nostalgic. After all, he was with his mom last time.

“Silly.” When Jaehyun grabs Taeyong’s hand to tug him to the carts, he ignores the surge of heat that emanates from it and spreads all over his body. Because the more he thinks about it, the redder his ears will get and he won’t be able to come up with excuses for it. Unbeknownst to him, Taeyong is suffering the first symptoms of a crush, too.

The pair begins picking up items in every aisle they stop at with Taeyong literally just getting whatever Jaehyun puts in his cart. In the middle of it, he gets a text from Mr. Park and Taeyong has to hold himself back from hurling his phone against the mountain of watermelon next to him.

“How insensitive.”

Jaehyun bounces the watermelon in his hands, weighing it. “What is it?”

“Mr. Park is telling me to reply to his email. What do I even say? I hope your verifier’s asshole closes up for a week? They rejected my pictures again. If I ask why, they’d say it looks edited.”

Deep inside, Jaehyun finds the whole stuff about Taeyong’s boss and his work conditions strange. How did they know their photographers would find Spider-Man in Gwangju? Even if they’re only taking a risk, they should compensate their employees properly. Jaehyun may hate paps but he cares for Taeyong.

But fearing he’d offend the boy, Jaehyun doesn’t speak a word about it and just hopes everything works out in the end. He puts the watermelon in Taeyong’s cart and leads the way to another aisle. “Cooking meals isn’t hard. Google the recipe and follow it carefully. If you’re not sure, just…ask me. Here.” Taking Taeyong’s phone, he registers his number and gives himself a call. “Please don’t eat ramen again, Taeyong.”

Awestruck that he finally has his hyung’s number, Taeyong rapidly nods and follows Jaehyun. “How about once a week?” He rightfully earns an eye roll.

“May I give an opinion?”

Taeyong eyes Jaehyun in amusement as they brave through the messiness of apartment 301, carrying plastic bags of their groceries. “Just say it.”

“I’m itching to clean your living room.”

Booming laughter reverberates within the unit as Taeyong kicks a dirty shirt out of the way and sets the bags on his unused dining table. “I’m sorry, hyung. I wasn’t expecting a guest. But now that you said that, I’m suddenly disgusted at myself and will clean as much as I can later.”

Jaehyun shakes his head and begins putting everything in Taeyong’s fridge. When he said it was empty, he wasn’t kidding. Everything it has are bottled waters and a single ice cream sandwich. As he stuffs the chicken in the freezer, he makes the mistake of glancing at his left and sees a framed picture of Taeyong’s family perched on top of the TV. His chest constricts.

Stocking gets done fast and Taeyong profusely thanks Jaehyun for his help.

“Hey, can I borrow some of your comic books?”

Taeyong visibly vibrates in excitement and dumps what looks like 20 comic books in his neighbor’s arms. “You’re going to love them.”

“I know that,” Jaehyun says, looking at The Odyssey on top of the pile. “So um, Taeyong. I don’t know how to say this without coming off presumptuous again, but– I can cover your rent dues. I’ll wire it to Mrs. Gu tonight. Pay me whenever you can.”

“Hyung…” Holy– is his neighbor for real? From flat out ignoring him to this? Taeyong rubs his arms, at a loss for words. “That’s too much. You already bought me food.”

“You need to eat healthy. You need to pay Mrs. Gu ASAP. And not to mention, your boss is being a jackass.”

A jackass. Mr. Park is a total jackass. So true, so true. Taeyong wants to laugh but he’s so overwhelmed with gratitude and something else for Jaehyun. Biting his lip in shame, he pockets his hands instead to keep them from reaching out and hugging the other. “Thank you so much, hyung… I really don’t know what to say.”

Jaehyun hums. “If you…if you meet Spider-Man again, just make sure to take good pictures. They have to pay you soon.”

“How can I make it up to you for now?”

Mirthfully, Jaehyun stares at the other’s huge, expressive eyes before fixing the comic books in his arms. “Help me bake donuts tomorrow. I’ve been planning to sell my own recipes. You’ll be my first judge. How about that?”

Heh, donut baking? Just an excuse for a date-at-home, you say. Jaehyun swats the demon on his right shoulder. “Sorry, there’s a mosquito.”

“Oh, sorry. I’m gonna spray a repellent later. But, sure! Because of you, I’m starting to like donuts very much.” Giggling, Taeyong lets the other man ruffle his hair and remind him again to avoid eating ramen as he walks Jaehyun to the door. “Thank you for everything, hyung.”

Following their agreement, Taeyong heads to where Spider-Man told him to meet. He must’ve been expecting to wait for nothing judging by the surprise he feels when he finds the superhero already there, and beckoning him to follow.

Taeyong’s short hair sways with the chilly gust of wind. Rooftops aren’t on his list of favorite hangout spots (the list consists of house, comic store, house again) but he’s standing on one again but not without his new favorite person. Spider-Man’s name isn’t even close to his list of Okay Persons to Hang Out With.

Now, he’s not scared of heights and if this guy pushes him off, Taeyong wants to survive only so he can tell Jaehyun he was wrong, that Spider-Man didn’t catch him. “So how do we do this?”

“Up to you. You’re the photographer.”

“You mean the pap.”

“Didn’t wanna hurt your feelings.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes so hard he fears the wind would blow them away before switching on his camera. “Can you– can you please pose for me? Make it look as natural as possible. And show your face. My boss rejected the first one.”

Spider-Man looks around for a bit, hands on his waist, before approaching the edge and hangs off it, one leg hopping over and arms clutching the cement as though he’s just climbing up the building. “Two pictures, fine. The lighting.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“Doubt that.”

Taeyong scurries to the other side and lies down so the angle looks like he’s sneaking through the window like a true stalker. “I think I got it.”

Spider-Man pushes himself off the edge and swats the dust off his costume. “You sure they’re good?”

Looking up from his shots, Taeyong raises a brow at the superhero. “You’re supposed to want to get rid of me quickly. You’re losing the plot, Spidey.”

Behind the mask, Jaehyun curses under his breath. “You’re doing enough of it for the both of us.”

“What is?”

“Getting pissed.”

If Taeyong was genuinely indifferent earlier, he’s certainly indignant now. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Letting his camera dangle on his neck he steps into the other’s personal bubble and glares, secretly fuming that another man is taller than him, maybe as tall as his favorite person. “My parents are dead because you couldn’t save them. I couldn’t pay my landlady because they didn’t leave me a lot and that’s still because of you. I’m stuck in this stupid job with a stupid boss because of you. Now tell me. Do I not have the right to get pissed as fuck at you?”

He hears Spider-Man’s sigh and wishes he could see the kind of face he’s making. Is he sighing because he’s guilty, because he’s pissed too, or because he finds him pathetic?

Spider-Man takes a few steps back to widen the gap between them just like the first time. Is he disgusted at weak humans, too?

“I didn’t mean that–”

“Didn’t mean what?”

“That I couldn’t save them,” Jaehyun whispers loud enough for the wind to bring his confession to Taeyong. “I can’t begin to describe how sorry I really am.”

‘How sorry I really am.’ Isn’t that what Taeyong wants to hear from him? That he’s apologetic, that he regrets not being as strong as he should’ve been? Chuckling bitterly, Taeyong nears the edge of the rooftop and sits down, arms around his knees. Tonight, there’s no blinking plane flying over him. “I miss them so much, you know. So much that sometimes I wish I was in Gwangsan that day, too. That way, I wouldn’t be going through this right now.”

But that way, I wouldn’t be able to meet you, Jaehyun wants to reply. “If I could, I would–”

“Turn back time? Me too. I would turn back time if I could. But it doesn’t matter anymore.” A minute with him sadly watching the faraway lights ticks by, and then he’s standing up and walking to the exit. Stargazing without Jaehyun is so fucking lonely.

“Do you want to come with me?” Tell me you want to f–

Taeyong stops in his tracks.

“If I can’t turn back time, I need to at least work hard for you to forgive me.”

“And you think by asking me on a date, that would happen?”

Spider-Man splutters and Taeyong cannot deny it was kind of funny and weirdly satisfying to see him acting more...ordinary.

“I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“I’m serious.”

Taeyong looks up the sky, spots blinking red and green and meets the other’s ‘eyes’. “I want to fly.”

Alright, back it up. Re-fuckin’-wind.

When Taeyong said he wanted to fly, he was taunting Spider-Man, see what he’d do. Maybe tell him to fuck off, take back that promise to do anything like an outdated prince out of a classic tale, and ask for a more practical wish. Because you know – Spider-Man may be a whole ass superhero but surely, his capabilities don’t stretch that far and wide? Not like he could battle a dragon right now and clip off them wings so he could attach them on Taeyong’s back.

So yeah, Spider-Man may not be that incredible, but he’s resourceful.

Taeyong wraps both arms around the superhero, clinging onto Spider-Man like a koala as he locks his legs around the other’s waist, face on fire. “This is not gonna fucking work.”

“It will, but you didn’t want me to–”

“It’s embarrassing!”

Spider-Man flails, patience running thin. “You pressing your package on mine is embarrassing, don’t you think?”

A beat of a deafening silence, and then Taeyong hops off him, head ready to blow up from humiliation. “Fine, fine! Carry me your way! And I wasn’t doing that on purpose!”

Sighing a little too loudly, Spider-Man wordlessly scoops Taeyong like an outdated prince out of a classic tale, one arm on his back and the other under his knees. “Still, hold on tight. I’m gonna be swinging us both high up there. If you feel like throwing up, please throw up anywhere except on me.” The sound of a hung over Taeyong emptying his stomach’s content pulls a grimace out of him. “Close your eyes if you’re scared.”

“Stop talking and let me fly, will you?”

And let him fly, Jaehyun does. Sprinting over tops of the building to get the momentum, his hold on Taeyong does not diminish even as he jets out webs and glides tens of feet off the earth. The cold wind brushes against the two of them, and he clutches Taeyong even tighter against his body when the boy shivers.

This feeling… It’s not like any other. Taeyong bravely keeps his eyes open as the houses and buildings shrink behind them inch by inch. How high they are, he doesn’t know. He’d know if Spider-Man drops him. On reflex, he clings because his life literally depends on it and presses the lower half of his face on the man’s shoulder. His scent is familiar but Taeyong can’t point out where he smelled it.

They bounce on air, up and down, up…down, farther forward, and all the while Taeyong somehow feels safe.

Spider-Man’s destination is a tower on a highland. He carefully puts Taeyong down, murmuring for him to sit still against the metal pole before gluing himself against the railing at the side. Easy-peasy, defying gravity.

Exhilaration runs in Taeyong’s veins. Feeling like he’s on top of the world right now and within one sweep of his eyes he can watch a portion of Gwangju like he’s on a satellite. Jesus, if he’s dreaming, please don’t wake him up for another hour or two.

“Wow…” He says breathlessly, scrambling to get his camera working. He takes a few photos and in the back of his mind, briefly considers what would happen if he takes being a photographer seriously. Make it an actual career. “It’s fucking breathtaking. Is this what you see everytime you– shit, this is fucking great.” Adjusting his position, Taeyong props on knee up and rests his arm there, profoundly stoked by the scenery. “If I had your powers, I wouldn’t be walking ever again. God, look at that. Can anybody see us here?”

Spider-Man keeps his arms crossed, eyes in front. “I doubt that. We look like dots. Or we don’t look like anything at all because they can’t see us.”

“My legs are tingling. I thought I didn’t have fear of heights but I’ve never been this high up anyway. Oh, wow– I wish I could tell Jennie. That’s my friend, by the way, but her family moved to New Zealand like a year ago.”

They don’t talk for a while, content to just absorb what the universe has in store for them.

“They shot him.”

Taeyong’s gaze whips to his right. “What…?”

Jaehyun’s heart throbs painfully in his chest and there’s a vague taste of bile up his throat. Recounting it is crippling. “After the fight I went home, injured, ready to listen to my grandfather tell me that things would be okay, and go to bed. Some innocent people died because I’m not powerful enough to save them all. I wanted to sleep, heal quickly, and make it up to them however I can. But when I got home, he was there, lying on his own pool of blood on the floor. They found three bullets in his body. Nothing was actually taken. Grandpa must have threatened to call the cops and they shot him before fleeing.”

As if it was yesterday, memories flash rapidly behind Jaehyun’s eyelids, blinding him. They morph from his grandfather into a horde of paps as the soles of their feet crush his quiet life ruthlessly.

Taeyong’s breath hitches. All this time he merely saw the man next to him as an object of power, the reason why there’s a big gray cloud over his head. He forgot that under that constricting costume is a man, someone’s son, someone who has a childhood probably just like his. Someone who still gets hurt and feels it surround him.

“I called the ambulance. When they took him, I was gone. I panicked. I didn’t want to believe it. And then the cops got involved, interrogated me, asked me where I was. I lied. Told them I was out, found him dead and called and ran like a coward because I was scared. They caught the criminal two weeks later breaking inside another home. Only found out from an accidental confession that he killed my grandfather. And then I fled,” Jaehyun inhales sharply, “because they lost someone and I lost him. Thought that was fair enough. Apparently not, how foolish of me.”

“Spidey…”

“I was too busy trying to be somebody else that I lost the one that mattered to me most.” Spider-Man detaches himself from the rail and sits next to Taeyong leaving a foot gap between them. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m really, really sorry.”

Taeyong only realizes he’s been crying when a gust of wind icily blows on his damp face. He looks away and hastily wipes his eyes, only for another batch of tears to flow out of them. His little sniffles serve as melancholic music.

Slowly, he rearranges his jumbled thoughts and feelings and matches them where they fit, where they justify. Before him, the colorful lights resemble splattered paint. “You know what I hate the most?”

“Me?”

“I hate myself the most because…because deep inside, I knew it wasn’t your fault.”

Taeyong’s voice embarrassingly breaks halfway. He fingers the buttons of his camera, mindlessly pressing on them to keep his quivering hands busy.

“You only have one body and could only do so much. I guess I got mad at you still because the enemy is dead and I can’t exactly despise someone whose ghost isn’t even haunting me, so I put all the blame on you.”

Spider-Man doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything, and Taeyong is thankful for that.

“There are two types of people, right? Those whose loved ones got saved and then…the other type. If I were the first type, I’d be one of those fans missing you right now. But somebody has to belong to the other type and well…that’s not really your fault, is it? It’s just the way it is.”

Taeyong hates crying. When his parents died, he cried for a whole week and stopped ultimately. He learned to keep all the hurt inside so he could drag himself out of the apartment and go to class. Crying reopens wounds and stitching them close isn’t exactly a cinch.

“If that weird octopus motherfucker didn’t exist, that fight wouldn’t even happen. If he didn’t wreak havoc, nothing would be broken and those cars wouldn’t be– I’m sorry,” Taeyong says as he dries his face with his sleeve, “I’m sorry for the things I said before.”

“…Does it mean you–”

“I don’t have to forgive you. There’s nothing to forgive.” Sniffling again, Taeyong looks at the other’s masked eyes. “You should probably consider forgiving yourself, though. What happened to your grandpa…it wasn’t your fault. They killed him because they made a choice and they chose to be evil. You could’ve begged them not to shoot and they would still do it not because you didn’t beg hard enough, but because no matter what you would’ve done, they wouldn’t listen to you.”

That’s all I wanted to hear. Jaehyun looks back at the world and releases the stiffness in his form as though all of the burden has been finally lifted off his shoulders. It’s not his fault, it’s never been his fault. He did the best he could. All the could’ves won’t hurt him anymore.

“I wish my grandpa was still here.”

Taeyong nods and hugs his knees. “I wish Jaehyun hyung was here.” The man next to him turns his head. “Um, that’s a hyung of mine. He lives next door.”

Even in the dimness, Jaehyun sees the sudden softness in Taeyong’s gaze. There’s something in it. There’s definitely something in it. Something that ignites something in his chest.

“I wanna go home, Spidey. Think we can go down using your web?”

“…I’m afraid they might run out.”

“Well, you wouldn’t know if you wouldn’t try.”

Spider-Man brings Taeyong home the same way with the latter now vocally expressing his astonishment, and leaves him on rooftop of their apartment complex. Only when he leaves does Taeyong realize he never told Spider-Man his address, but maybe that’s another power the superhero has: mindreading.

“Hyung!” Rushing down to the third floor, Taeyong pounds on 302’s door impatiently. “Hyung! Are you home?!”

The door swings open and a sweaty, shirtless Jaehyun greets him, whose sweatpants are obviously backwards. Hey, pretending to leave then crawling back through 302’s window, changing out of his costume and into his normal clothes is a fucking feat. Give him a break. “What–”

Taeyong internally screeches. Those are very nice and very hard-looking pecs. And abs. Brain rot. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“I…had an evening jog?”

“Oh, good for you. Keeping that washboard tight and hard, huh?” Taeyong cackles as he slaps those abs with the back of his hand and proceeds to barge inside so that Jaehyun misses the gay panic in his eyes. He jumps on the couch, hugs a pillow and watches his neighbor grab a towel to dry himself. “Hyung, I met Spider-Man. And we talked.”

Putting a clean shirt on, Jaehyun sits down as well. “Talked about what?”

“Things.” Taeyong shrugs, smiling when he sees his comics on the dining table. “I think things are okay now. Like he listened to my side, I listened to his, and I didn’t even have to forgive him because I was just displacing my anger all along. And he didn’t deserve it. He deserves better.”

“You both deserve better,” Jaehyun says, wetting his lips. “That’s…that’s good. I’m happy for you.” And for me.

“And he’s so muscly! Hyung, he took me to a tower and I clung to him real tight and I felt those nice, strong arms– are you blushing?” Taeyong asks teasingly, to which Jaehyun rolls his eyes.

“How exactly am I supposed to react when you’re literally talking about copping up a feel at some guy?”

Complete silence, and then Taeyong clears his throat while rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. That was so indecent of me. I should say sorry to him but he’s going to have to ask what I am apologizing for, so… I’ll be sorry in secret. Anyway, you must be tired.” Taeyong scurries to the door, followed by Jaehyun. “It was so beautiful up there, hyung. I wished you were with me.” He stares into the other’s eyes for a few more seconds, and whispers, “Good night, hyung.”

Jaehyun’s forehead hits the door as he closes it. That longing gaze will be in his dreams for hours.

“You said you’d look it up,” Jaehyun calls out as Taeyong fails to make a round dough for the nth time. They began baking an hour ago and until now, the only thing they made is huge mess in the kitchen because Taeyong turns out to be of no help at all.

Indignantly, Taeyong slaps the dough on the board and rips open a new bag of flour. “And I did look it up. Don’t put this all on me, okay? You’ve been doing this for god knows how long. I just read about it for five minutes. Why are you making me do everything anyway? You’re so useless.”

Woah, a pissed Taeyong certainly has no filter. Hands up in mock surrender, Jaehyun gets out of Taeyong’s way and finally helps the boy out of pity (and out of realization that he’s wasting the ingredients that are not exactly cheap. Cry me a river, said Jesus).

The pity doesn’t last long though, as Jaehyun slips on something. And from his pathetic position on the floured floor, Taeyong snickers while sprinkling more white powder on Jaehyun’s bare feet.

“Now we’re even, hyung.”

“I didn’t even do anything.” Jaehyun gets up and quickly grabs the flour, beginning a playful battle the both of them will regret later.

“Get away! That was my revenge!”

“No, you started it.”

Hair now covered in white, Taeyong dodges Jaehyun’s attacks and is about to retaliate with a handful of dough, when he loses his footing and slips– and feels a pair of arms enclose around his waist to stop him from falling. Arms limply hanging on his sides, Taeyong blinks as rapidly as the beat of his heart.

Jaehyun’s face is close. Too close.

“Are you thinking about hitting me with that dough?”

“…No?”

“Try and I’ll pour the flour on your black book bag. See if you can wash it out.” Jaehyun’s words come out hushed in the silent apartment, his hot breath fanning the boy’s parted lips. His gaze automatically drops there. “Well, what do we have here?”

The look on Jaehyun’s face is one Taeyong hasn’t seen before. He’d named impatience, irritation, fondness and enjoyment in the past, but not this. This makes him nervous and a little weak in the knees.

“W-what?”

Taeyong sucks in a lungful of air when Jaehyun leans in, thinking he’d do what he thinks the older man would do, but when he feels the other’s tongue lick at his burning skin, Taeyong is ready to melt at a boiling point and be one with the endless pot of liquid fire in hell.

‘Cause ladies and gentlemen, whatever the fuck just happened isn’t giving him heavenly kind of thoughts.

“Wondered where the chocolate filling had gone. Now I know.” Jaehyun lets go of the poor boy, smirking as Taeyong dazedly moves around the kitchen, both their heads still stuck at that.

Right there and then, two hearts admit being aware of the force that have been tugging at their strings since that night on the rooftop.

Attraction. A strong, irrefutable attraction. One that lasts long if they take good care of it.

Absentmindedly, Taeyong starts reshaping his dough and obliviously knocks off a bottle that Jaehyun catches with a web, belatedly realizing what he did.

His reflex had kicked off, traitorously beat him to it. Quickly setting the bottle aside, Jaehyun furtively glances at Taeyong and is relieved to see that he’s still in trance.

Owning up to his mistakes (and being forgiven for his lack of fault) is one thing, but confessing his identity is a different story entirely.

In the end, it is Jaehyun who did all the baking while Taeyong happily ate the products of his first trial. Judging the now empty plate, it’s safe to say Jaehyun is ready to display his own recipe in Cream Donuts.

They sit on the living room floor (after scrubbing the kitchen and cleaning themselves as much they could) as Jaehyun plays the guitar for Taeyong who films him with his phone. Jaehyun lets him and continues to strum the chords of Bread's If. A little too romantic but Taeyong requested it and, well, Jaehyun supposes it's pun intended...

“Hyung, why did you ignore me before?”

Jaehyun pinches one of the strings. “…I didn’t want to get close to anyone.”

“What a loner. That’s why you’re so good playing This Person with me.” Taeyong opens one of the comic books and flips it open on a random page, not really in the mood to read. “I didn’t really feel like talking to anyone but something told me it would be worth it if I kept bothering you.”

Jaehyun puts the guitar away and looks at Taeyong.

“Was it worth it?”

“Totally.”

Mr. Park told Taeyong not to come to the office yet if he doesn’t have a lot of good pictures. So the next time he meets Spider-Man, he bosses the superhero around, fixing his angles like they’re in a photoshoot and greedily takes at least 20 suspiciously perfect pictures. This will shut them up for good and make Mr. Park swallow his arrogance.

“What does it feel like to be you?”

Spider-Man pauses from fixing his mask. “To be me?”

Taeyong gestures at him from head to toe. “To be you. To be Spider-Man.” He is met with silence for a minute. “Inundating, huh?”

“You can say that.”

They sit on the edge side by side and Taeyong offers the other a can of Fanta that Jaehyun bought for him, blushing right away as it dawns on him that Spider-Man cannot drink with his mask on. And the man will probably not risk taking it off for some soda. “I thought about it since the tower adventure. It felt amazing to have that kind of power, but I don’t think I want to be a superhero.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would have to sacrifice everything I have the second I’m given that kind of responsibility. Right as I embrace it, everything in my personal life would be on the line.”

A lone drunkard passes by, slurring the lyrics of an unrecognizable song.

“Do you sometimes regret being who you are?”

Jaehyun thinks about it. Aside from the events in his past that are not his fault but are saddening nonetheless, he can’t come up with an answer as to why he shouldn’t be proud he was once everybody’s hero, the reason why somebody thinks the world will be alright as long as he’s around.

“No,” Spider-Man says with conviction. “Not anymore.”

Taeyong hums in satisfaction. “You told me why you ran away… Is there... is there a reason why you I found you, why you appeared that day?”

“I just found a good enough reason to.”

“You won’t tell me that, will you?

“Some things are –”

“ – better left unsaid, I know. That’s actually a popular phrase.” Taeyong chuckles, sipping his soda. “Guess secrets aren’t only for ordinary humans like me, and the rest that are not like you.”

The guilt of not being completely honest to the boy plagues Jaehyun instantly. He knows he needs to come clean sooner or later. He has to. He’d hate for Taeyong to avoid him, now that he doesn’t wanna go back to the days there was no Taeyong in his life who enjoys reading comic books and loves all the original donuts Jaehyun made. Those days were the worst. Letting Taeyong in his life was one of the best decisions he’s ever made.

The nervousness in Taeyong’s voice takes him back to the present.

“Spidey, I have to go back soon, but will you answer me this before I go? There’s no one else to tell me, otherwise.” Taeyong runs a hand through his hair, cheeks on fire. “What does it mean when your friend – um, neighbor, who’s like, three years older than you and gives you free donuts and buys you groceries and covers your rent…licks the chocolate off your face?”

Once again, Spider-Man splutters.

“Dang it. I know this it totes way out of line but I can’t just look it up on the internet, can I? Come on,” Taeyong pats the ground irritatedly, “Pretty sure someone did that to you too when your mask is out of the way. Or maybe you did it to someone. Help a guy out.”

Still in the middle of a coughing fit, Spider-Man gets up and starts walking away. “I’m not helping you with that. Please go home now.” Then as a thought occurs to him, he turns around. “Do you… why are you bothered? Do you like…”

Even if the superhero doesn’t finish it, Taeyong knows exactly what he’s asking. He simply dusts off his jeans and passes by Spider-Man, their shoulders brushing. “Forget it, Spidey. I was asking too much.”

Dumbfounded, Jaehyun is left watching the door flap back and forth as Taeyong leaves him alone to figure out the answer to his question.

A week later, Taeyong is finally called to the office. When he woke up this morning to find Mr. Park’s email, he felt anxious. He doesn’t understand why but as he goes to meet his boss with all the pictures he accumulated, he’s ready to strangle the man’s throat if he so much as utters the word edited again. That man with the fake, hideous moustache is seriously starting to sound sketchy as fuck.

Mr. Park’s gaze practically glimmers as he inspects every photo so Taeyong knows he approves of them even without getting them authenticated. But then Mr. Park schools his expression, and Taeyong channels that meme of a bird as he takes a deep breath, preparing for a verbal attack.

“These are–”

“NO,” his voice booms against the four walls of the pitiful excuse of a recruitment hub, “I won’t let you call it fake again. You’re just saying that so I’d keep giving you more. I know you believe Spider-Man is here. I’ve seen him with my own damn eyes and actually had conversation with him. You can only wish.”

Mr. Park audaciously rubs his temple as though he’s the one being wronged between them. “If that was true, if Spider-Man really is back, why isn’t he on TV?”

Taeyong scoffs. “Because he hates guys like you. Yes, you – me. The fucking media who won’t leave him alone. Those who endlessly pester him without a care for his privacy. He doesn’t want his face on TV and on any newspaper, especially because it’s going to be about that fight.”

“And he told you that?” Mr. Park derisively asks, lighting a cigarette before leaning in his swivel chair and arrogantly putting his feet up the desk.

If he thinks he can deter Taeyong, he thinks wrong. Taeyong stares him down haughtily. “He did. This is gonna be the last time I will give you pictures. Cross my heart– those are real. Put my pictures on your newspaper with proper credits and give me my money.”

“I told you, you will only get your money if the newspaper–”

“Then publish it now! You only need Spider-Man, don’t you? How many pictures do you want to–”

A call cuts through the argument and Mr. Park gestures for Taeyong to wait as he picks it up, face lighting up like a faulty bulb. “Oi, Mr. Choi! Ohoho, yes, yes of course! The photographer is here, actually.”

Taeyong glares harder, silently asking.

“He just gave me a bunch of pictures. Better than the previous ones? Absolutely! So you know what that means, right? Louder ka-ching? Hahahaha!”

The gears in Taeyong’s head gradually clicks in position. “…Hold on a second. Did you get money from the ones I submitted already? Where’s my commission?”

Staring indifferently at the boy, Mr. Park talks to the phone. “Mr. Choi, I have something to discuss with the photographer but don’t worry, I’ll send you the photos right away. Don’t forget to write the cheque!” Another burst of laughter rips through him before he hangs up just as Taeyong repeats his question. “Kid, when we have enough photos of Spider-Man, we will give you your cut.”

A loud click resounds within the recesses of Taeyong’s mind as he gapes in disbelief. His tone is eerily calm as speaks that even Mr. Park feels a little threatened. “…You are fucking scamming me.”

The man emits an unmistakable nervous chuckle. “Now, let’s not call it that way.”

“You’re a fucking scammer. This– this whole company, it doesn’t fucking exist, does it? That’s why you’re the only one I can talk to.” Fishing out his phone, Taeyong makes a quick search of the company name and laughs darkly as he finds a laundromat from Turkey. “That’s why– that’s why there’s nobody else here aside from you, that pimply Goliath, and the fucking receptionist that I bet isn’t even a real receptionist. And I’m the only photographer?”

Mr. Park rubs his temple again. “The more photos we give, the richer we get. And there are others, I didn’t lie about that.”

Trembling in mute fury, Taeyong takes a few deep breaths lest he kills Mr. Park for real, and hovers over the desk, palms over it. “You know what, keep the photos and your fucking money, and I hope to god you get fucked 6 ways to Sunday, ass up face down.”

As he has no more business to set foot in there, Taeyong walks out of the building. He should’ve known from its state right at the beginning that he’s getting fuck all from them.

Jaehyun hands the logbook to Xiao Zhan and takes out his phone to text Taeyong.

[ Are you coming to the store? ]

[ I can’t, hyung. Sorry ]

[ Why? Are you okay? ]

[ No, I’m not. Can we talk tonight? Well… I have to see Spidey first. Dunno if he’s gonna be there but I hope he is ]

[ What? What time are you talking to him? ]

[ Same time, I guess. See you later, hyung ]

“He still doesn’t know?”

Jaehyun puts a hand on his chest as he half-heartedly glares at Xiao Zhan. “Stop sneaking up behind me.”

“My boss doesn’t usually use his phone at work, so I got curious. Why doesn’t he know yet?”

“Why does he have to know already?”

“Because you like him,” Xiao Zhan says with a matter-of-fact tone, chuckling. “And he should know you are interested.”

Taking a seat on the stool, Jaehyun leaves his phone on the counter and cups his face with both hands. “It’s a little complicated. But I’ll tell him, of course.” He earns a comforting squeeze on the shoulder later on. “Don’t let us outdo you.”

Removing his hands from his face, Jaehyun looks up at the other. “…Is that I think it is?”

Xiao Zhan opens the logbook and scans the updates. “I haven’t said yes yet. Think I wanna see him panic for three days before I take pity.”

“You’re the devil. That’s why he’s been moping around since this morning.”

Eyes glinting mischievously, Xiao Zhan tuts. “It’s adorable.”

Sighing softly, Jaehyun cups his chin and glances up the clock. He badly wants to see Taeyong now. Maybe he should leave the store earlier so he can change into the costume and get to their meeting place on time. They’re not scheduled to talk tonight, though. Must be something urgent if the boy cannot wait for tomorrow.

They’re not supposed to meet tonight and Taeyong is ready to leave in disappointment. “You’re here,” he says, a little breathless from climbing four stories. “Why are you here?”

Spider-Man asks the same. “Every other night, remember?”

Taeyong’s fists ball up in his pockets as he stares at Spider-Man, eyes glassy. “I was scammed.” No beating around the bush for this. “The guys I worked for…they’re using my pictures for something I don’t know. They fooled me. I don’t know what they’re going to do with those b-but I think they’re talking big money and I doubt they’d give me my share.” A flare of annoyance for tearing up now makes Taeyong kick the stone as hard as he can. “Goddamn it. I’m sorry, I know you hate– I know you don’t wanna be out there again but I think I just fed you to those fucking greedy pigs.”

Spider-Man approaches him slowly and Taeyong sees his hands open and close like he’s stopping himself from reaching out.

“You didn’t know. Forget it… I’m not mad.”

“Okay, okay, that’s good. But now I’m thinking about the stress they put me through and I feel so fucking stupid–”

“Hey, you’re not.” Jaehyun wants to pull Taeyong and hug him, whisper comfort. But he can’t. He shouldn’t–. “Don’t worry about it. Please…please don’t beat yourself over it–”

“I can’t just stop feeling bad about it, alright? I guilt-tripped you into helping me and now–.” Rubbing his face, Taeyong widens their gap. “I just came here to apologize. And that– and to thank you for everything. For letting me take your pictures even though you’re uncomfortable and for bringing me to the tower even though you didn’t have to.” Clutching a handful of hair at the back of his head, Taeyong looks at Spider-Man. “There’s no need for us to see each other again, Spidey. I mean, I quit already.”

He waits for the other to say something and when there comes none, Taeyong turns on his heel.

“Where are you going?”

“To Jaehyun hyung.”

“Do you like him?”

Taeyong stops in his tracks and looks at the other. “I do. I like him a lot.”

When Jaehyun (not sweaty and very much dressed decently) receives Taeyong in his arms, he holds him without asking for an explanation. He knows it already, and as they platonically cuddle on the couch while Taeyong retells his story, Jaehyun lets him be vulnerable. Taeyong doesn’t shed a tear but he trembles gently. Jaehyun does his best to comfortingly brush his hair. If the boy has problems with the kiss planted on top of his head, he doesn’t let Jaehyun know.

“Taeyong…”

“What.”

“I think you need to take a rest. You deserve it, after everything.” The boy in his arms remains mum. “Do you… do you wanna stay the night? Take my bed.” Jaehyun hopes he doesn’t sound as pained as he thinks so. “But we literally live right next to each other so that’s probably stupid. Just forget it.”

“No, not stupid.” Wiping his nose, Taeyong extricates himself form the other man. “Where will you sleep?”

“Here on the couch?”

“Don’t be stupid. Sleep with me on the bed. It should be big enough. Just put a pillow in the middle. I don’t move a lot in my sleep anyway.”

Just put a pillow in the middle, they said. I don’t move a lot in my sleep, they said.

Then why, in god’s name, are all their limbs–arms and legs, twisted chord-like and both their heads sharing the same pillow now? Just say fuck it and put your head on his chest, Taeyong, why don’t you?

It’s the cuckoo clock that shocks them awake in each other’s arms. Jaehyun opens his mouth and Taeyong takes it as a sign to panic and scramble out of bed, accidentally kicking Jaehyun’s stomach before they both end up falling on the floor with twinning groans of pain.

“Mother of– what the hell was that?” Taeyong rubs his lower back as he kneels against the side of the bed, glaring up at the mechanical bird still repeatedly emerging from its wooden house. “That’s your alarm clock?”

Ignoring the judgmental tone, Jaehyun mutters something inaudible under his breath and starts fluffing the pillows. Both of their cheeks a little pink the unplanned cuddling. “What about it? I got that from a thrift store.” Now folding the blanket, his gaze follows Taeyong as the latter wipes at the remnant of drool on the corner of his mouth. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, your bed smells like fabric softener. Pretty sure I was snoring!”

“You were.”

Taeyong gasps in offense. “No fucking way. I wasn’t!” His thudding steps echo inside the apartment as he follows Jaehyun to the kitchen. Side by side they make sandwiches for breakfast.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Jaehyun says when they’re finally seated. Birds chirp altogether early in the morning. Some land on a thick black wiring, some stop right by the window as though wanting to begin the day with them.

“Is there a special occasion?” Taeyong zealously finishes his first sandwich in three big bites, toes wiggling as he drinks his coffee.

“It’s Cheer Up Taeyong Day. You choose the place.”

Excitement bubbles within Taeyong, causing him to wriggle in his seat. “Can we go to the comic store?”

“Sure,” Jaehyun gently blows on his drink, “what time do they open?”

“In like two hours. Are you skipping work again? That’s not very ‘role model’ of you.”

“Who said I should be your role model?” Jaehyun pokes the boy’s forehead. “Speaking about comic books, I had one volume of Ghost Fighter. When I got older I donated it. If I’m not mistaken, I still got this shirt with Kurama on the front that I bought last year.” If Taeyong were a robot, he’d be elatedly vibrating right now. “Take a shower here. You can borrow it.”

Taeyong inhales sharply. “Say no more.”

Jaehyun takes a shower first since he doesn’t need to be in there for long. Perks of habitually washing up before sleep, too. He’s tidying up the living room when Taeyong walks out wearing his robe, feet loudly padding into his bedroom.

“Not to be that person, but if I take one of your boxers are you going to file a restraining order against me?”

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t let me know.”

“I’ll take that as a no. I’m too lazy to grab one from my room,” Taeyong mumbles before digging through Jaehyun’s drawer and putting on a plain black underwear. Snug. Own jeans still clean, he slips it on next and starts looking for the Kurama shirt in Jaehyun’s closet. “Hyung, where’s Kurama?”

Red and blue grab Taeyong’s attention as he shoves the hung shirts aside. His hands grow cold as if they were soaked in a bucket of iced water. Red, blue…the white on the mask. The feel of it in his hand is hot and heavy, and he knows it’s no replica.

“You saw it?”

Taeyong drops the costume and takes the Kurama shirt, willing his hands to stop shaking as he puts it on. It smells the same. “Yeah,” he says, quickly plastering a smile on his face as he meets Jaehyun in the living room. “Come on!”

The Comic™ is a few blocks down the road. Since it just opened its doors for the day, there are only two other customers aside from them. Shelves and shelves of old and new issues turn the store into every comic fan’s dream. What makes it special is the photo booth at the corner where you can choose a character filter.

“They’re having a sale again, hyung. Some prices drop so low I can almost afford them. Here,” Taeyong leads the way to the side where the old issues are. “Some of these are rare as fuck but as you can see,” he picks up a copy of the Saga of the Swamp Thing and shows the price tag. “They’re not for me.”

Jaehyun takes the comic book after Taeyong puts it back, the boy already scanning other titles. “Do you want this?”

“Don’t buy it for me, hyung. I already owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me this.” Picking up one of the green baskets by the check-out, Jaehyun puts the book inside and goes back to Taeyong. “This is just Book 1 so we have to look for the continuation.”

The smile on Taeyong’s face is both grateful and nervous, the second one Jaehyun fails to read. “You should look for something you like too, hyung. I’m taking it upon myself to turn you into a nerd like me.”

Together they take their time checking every title available, even the more expensive ones. Taeyong successfully convinces the other to get in the photo booth with him and they choose several filters to use for their pictures. When everything gets printed, Jaehyun pokes fun at one of the panels because the mask couldn’t detect more than one face, so Taeyong ended up frowning childishly.

“I’ll take this.”

“But I look stupid there,” Taeyong complains while Jaehyun slips the picture in his wallet. Maybe he should get a wallet too even though he doesn’t have much just so he can keep their photo inside.

After the comic store, Jaehyun brings them to the local park where they eat ice cream by the grove. All the while, Taeyong snaps pictures with his phone, expression content and nostalgic.

“Wanna try the swings?”

Taeyong snorts. “You gonna push me?”

They stare at each other for a second and then they’re racing towards the swings, startling children and their mothers as they claim one of the seats. Jaehyun pushes Taeyong forward. He thinks he likes the sound of Taeyong’s happiness the most.

They go home after having lunch at a bistro. Dropping the paper bag of comic books next to Taeyong on the couch, Jaehyun opens the fridge to choose some drinks. He likes having options so he stocks up weekly. “Are you up for a movie? Or do you have to go back to 301? I’m probably hogging you too much. Why are you not complaining about essays anymore? Done with them?” Sometimes, he tends to run his mouth when he’s having a seriously good time. “Taeyong?”

“Where’s your family? Why did you come to Dong-gu?” Taeyong feels a pinch of guilt when Jaehyun flinches. He didn’t mean to remind, but there was no other way to touch the subject. “Hyung.”

Jaehyun looks at the can of grape Fanta in his hand. “Why are you asking me that now?”  

“Why don't we play a game?” The older man's throat bobs when their gazes meet. “This person was so weird agreeing to help me pay my bills just like that. He dropped me off at the rooftop when I didn’t even tell him where I live. He smells familiar. He crosses his arms the way someone I know do. He was there at our meeting place last time even though he shouldn’t be.” Jaehyun’s face crumples at every recollection. “I told you I was meeting him.”

“…”

Sighing, Taeyong fetches the costume and shows it. “Someone’s who’s not a fan wouldn’t dress up as him for fun. Were you planning to tell me?”

Leaning against the fridge now, Jaehyun resignedly points at the shirt. It’s now or never. “I wanted you to know but you didn’t say anything earlier so I thought you didn’t see.”

“Why didn’t you tell me right away? Hyung… Hyung, I’m not mad.” Taeyong scratches his cheek as he looks at the costume, rubbing the fabric, soaking in the realness of it–the fact that Jaehyun is who he is. “We already talked, didn’t we? Spidey– you didn’t do anything wrong. Why didn’t you tell me at the tower?

Jaehyun closes his eyes for a moment and pins his gaze somewhere in the room. “Telling you who I really am is different. I was–“ He stops, nerves jittery. “I wasn’t ready.”

Not ready. Okay. That’s understandable. That’s fine. It isn’t easy being a superhero. Jaehyun simply wants a quiet and normal life. “Okay,” Taeyong says softly and sits at the dining table still holding Spider-Man’s costume. “Did you, um, did you only talk to me because you were scared I’d rat you out?” Here comes the scary part. “When you overheard me talking on the phone that night. When you told me your name.”

“…I was worried, yes.”

“What about the other times? After I told you about my parents? Did you only put up with me because you were guilty?”

“Taeyong–”

“I’m not mad, hyung.” Taeyong rakes a hand through his hair. “But please be honest with me. I’ve been nothing but honest with you since the start.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply. “I was guilty, but I really liked talking to you. Believe me. I’m not an asshole.”

I really liked talking to you. It rings in Taeyong’s ears a few times. At least, he can breathe in relief now. “Alright… That’s good to hear. I’m glad. Um, well…” Momentarily reflecting on their conversation, Taeyong chuckles to lighten the atmosphere. “This is honestly a little overwhelming, you know. I did things in front of Spider-Man that I didn’t do with you. And oh god, I felt you up. That’s why you were blushing. I’m so sorry.”

“Taeyong, that’s fine.” Jaehyun is so, so glad things are not getting ugly as he thought it would.

Then Taeyong’s squirming in his seat as he remembers another thing from one of his meetings with the superhero. “I told Spidey a secret of mine.” Courageously, he meets Jaehyun’s eyes. “Do you– does Spider-Man know if Jaehyun hyung likes me back?”

Here it is.

Ears burning, Jaehyun snips the eye contact. “He does. He does know Jaehyun likes you back.”

There it fucking is.

Taeyong grips the costume once more. “I’m fine with the whole thing. Spidey lives right next to me. How cool is that? There’s finally something special about me. I’m neighbors with Spidey.” Leaving the costume on the table, Taeyong approaches the other. “Does Spider-Man know if Jaehyun hyung would like to go out with me?”

“He can’t.”

Silence.

“He can’t go out with you.”

“Oh,” Taeyong whispers, crestfallen. He takes a step back. “But…but why?”

Jaehyun wishes to pick up the boy’s fallen happiness but he’s stuck there, cornered by palpable heartbreak. “…He just can’t.”

“You’re lying.”

“I can’t Taeyong, I’m sorry.”

Taeyong balls up his hands. “But you like me…”

“Let’s just keep things the way they are.”

Swallowing the urge to cry, Taeyong widens the space between them and laughs, and it’s so fucking fake he nearly dies. “Hyung, is it okay if we don’t talk for a while?”

Before Jaehyun knows it, Taeyong is gone.

The next three days is literal hell on earth for Jaehyun.

He tries talking to Taeyong, knocking on his door and waiting for an hour before he has to go to the store, but nada. Taeyong is either asleep or pretending to. Clearly, Jaehyun can’t accept the other’s simple request when he should be respecting it. He just rejected Taeyong. The boy would obviously want some time alone.

Even if Taeyong didn’t look angry the last time they talked, Jaehyun still wants to apologize. Keep apologizing until Taeyong talks to him again like nothing happened. Funny how the tables turned. Now, he’s the one desperate for the other’s hi or hello.

When Jaehyun comes back from work, he doesn’t catch Taeyong. The door to 301 slams close an hour later, a non-verbal please don’t bother. The calls and texts don’t get answered. Taeyong is basically shutting him out and it’s alright, it’s a valid reaction. If he were in the younger’s shoes, Jaehyun would be acting the same way, too. Maybe even worse.

On the fourth day, someone knocks on the door. Jaehyun has never answered it as quick as he did.

A small, brown letter envelope is pressed to his hand. “What’s this?”

“For the rent you covered. I’m returning it.”

Jaehyun frowns. “Where did you get this?”

Taeyong shrugs noncommittally, pocketing his hands. “Don’t worry about it. Nothing illegal. But I have to look for another job so I can pay another debt. As for the groceries, well, I already ate some of them.”

What–? This is unreasonable. “I told you that you could pay whenever you could. This isn’t paying, Taeyong. This is borrowing again from someone else.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Taeyong snaps. “But I hate being indebted to anyone. Just…just take it. And I’m not returning the groceries, if that’s what you’re thinking. Chill, hyung. You’re ugly when you scowl.” Pursing his lips, Taeyong turns on his heel and goes back to his room, no good nights they used to look forward to.

“You’re the exact definition of miserable.”

“I’m not paying you to call me names, Yibo.” Jaehyun opens the logbook and updates the current sales. Xiao Zhan is not around for today, going back to Gwangsan-gu to settle some family matter. “Why don’t you go ask the customer if they want something else?”

Yibo looks at the empty store and sits down next to Jaehyun, taking out his phone to play for the meantime. “That boy sucked all the luck out of our business. He took all the customers with him like a magnet. When is he dropping by?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Did you already tell him?”

“Yes.”

“And he doesn’t want to date Spider-Man?”

Closing the logbook, Jaehyun sags in his chair in exhaustion. He hasn’t been sleeping well and contrary to what Yibo said, it seems like he’s the one dragging all the bad energy to the store and chasing away their regulars. “He wants to, but I’m scared.”

Scared? That’s new. Yibo pauses the game and playfully punches his boss’ arm. “That’s fine. Some things in this world is really scary. You know what, I confessed to Zhan ge. He hasn’t responded yet, no yes or no. I think he’s just teasing me. But still, I’m on edge. ‘Cause I spent three years pining over him and I wouldn’t know what to do if he rejects me.”

God. Both of them are miserable.

Jaehyun returns the playful punch and stands up when two customers come in.

“Stop following me…”

“I’m not following you, Nakyum. Can’t I buy some donuts too? I have a sweet-tooth.”

“Sweet tooth, my ass. I have never seen you eat anything sweet.”

“That’s because we’re not boyfriends yet.”

The shorter male, Nakyum, asks Jaehyun to give him a box of the hazelnut-flavored donuts. A Jeong Jaehyun original. “Taeyong should’ve hit your head with the paper plane, not Jihwa.”

“What?” Jaehyun blurts out. Are they talking about his Taeyong?

Nakyum looks at him, doe eyes so light they’re almost gold. “Sir…?

“You mentioned the name Taeyong. Are you– he studies Geology at the college just around here. Are you his classmates?”

The other man raises a well-trimmed brow and possessively drapes an arm around Nakyum. “We know a Taeyong from Geology, but we’re classmates in Art elective. Why?”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I’m just worried about him. We’re neighbors.”

“Ahuh,”

“Seungho, get your hand off me.”

Seungho huffs and pays for the donuts before Nakyum could, ignoring the other’s protests. Before they leave the store, he turns to Jaehyun with a smirk. “Step up your game, perhaps.”

"..."

"..."

The chime stops.

"I don't know about you but I'm taking notes." The pen's tip scratches over some torn, scratch paper as Yibo jots down whatever notes he's pertaining to.

On the way home, Jaehyun thinks of how to make it up to Taeyong. He can wait in the hallway and block the door until Taeyong lets him talk. In his mind, the content of his script is nothing but ten thousand sorry’s. He likes Taeyong, he really does, he just can’t let them cross the line yet. To be honest, Jaehyun knows it’s cruel. To let Taeyong know about his feelings yet build a wall between them at the same time. But Jaehyun isn’t being cruel for nothing. He has his reasons. And if Taeyong lets him in tonight, he will explain it.

He knocks on 301 but nobody answers. Jaehyun strains his hearing and confirms that no one’s home.

For now, he gets in his apartment, wanting to take a shower first. He’s just stepped out of his jeans when the base of his skull prickles hotly, warning him of danger.

Taeyong.

In no time, Jaehyun is dressed as he should be. Promising himself that if that man from before failed to learn his lesson, he has no qualms re-teaching it a hundred times.

He finds Taeyong just as he exits the public library. Immediately, Jaehyun senses the malicious presence following him – two middle-aged men. One huge enough to tackle Taeyong down and render him immobile.

Jaehyun is just about to launch out ropes of web when Taeyong whips around and looks both men in the eyes, raging.

“You thought I didn’t see you there waiting for me? What the hell, Mr. Park? After scamming me, you’re going to kidnap me because you’re not getting enough money? Am I pricier than–”

“Shhh, not too loud!” Mr. Park pulls him to the side where people cannot eavesdrop. The giant stands guard, making sure nobody disturbs them. Jaehyun seethes. “Listen, Taeyong. We made a mistake keeping you out of the loop. But they want more of the photos. I don’t know how you met Spider-Man but if you help us out again, we promise to give you 30% of it.”

Taeyong dusts his arm in disgust. “You’re so full of shit, you know that? Why did you bring Goliath with you? This certainly doesn’t look like you’d let me go if I said no. Be thankful I didn’t fucking call the cops on you, Mr. Park.” He’s about to leave when Mr. Park desperately blocks the way.

“We’re talking big, big money here, Taeyong.”

“Really? What the fuck do you do with the pictures?”

Mr. Park thinks he finally caught the boy’s interest, rubbing his hands together. “A major newspaper wants to hit a new record high. They’re asking people secretly to provide them exclusive pictures. They figured out that if Spider-Man wouldn’t show himself, they might as well track him down discreetly. In a sense, we’re not exactly a scam, kid. We’re really working for a newspaper here. And I’ll tell them to give you proper credits. Mr. Choi is very understanding, you see–”

Hiking the strap of his book bag, Taeyong scoffs. He’s done dealing with these frauds. “Looks like you didn’t get fucked enough yet. Fuck you and Goliath, Mr. Park. If you want Spider-Man, catch him if you can.”

Taeyong storms out, and doesn’t turn to witness the two oldies get wrapped in web before being catapulted away. He spotted him earlier, he just didn’t give Spider-Man the satisfaction of being found.

Spider-Man stays in the shadows as he follows the boy. Confusion cloaks him when Taeyong makes a few turns and realizes he’s going to their meeting place. For what, he just needs to go there. Come to think of it, following their schedule, they’re supposed to meet if only Taeyong didn’t halt it.

“Are you the stalker now?” Taeyong puts his bag down and sits on the edge, dangling feet swaying back of forth. “I didn’t come here to meet you.”

Jaehyun sits down next to him anyway, all red and blue. “I really want us to talk, Taeyong.”

“I know that, hyung. But I asked for some time, didn’t I? If you think I’m mad, I’m not…” He tugs pokes a finger through the tiny hole on his jeans, scratching his knee. “Just a little hurt. It’s the first time I liked someone and I got rejected right away.”

“I want to explain…”

“Some newspaper wants to feature Spider-Man. Apparently, they’re willing to pay a fucking lot just to put his face on broad sheet. I just wonder what it would be about if they can’t interview him. It can’t be about the fight. He’s nowhere to be found, his enemy is dead. There’s no one for them to get a scoop out of, not even if it’s one-sided. It could be a tribute. Pronounce him dead. See if it triggers him and takes the bait.”

Tiny rocks fall as Jaehyun mindlessly rubs the side of the wall with his sole. “I heard what they said.”

“You did, didn’t you?” Taeyong looks at him, smiling genuinely.

“Talk to me, Taeyong.”

“I am talking to you.”

“No. Talk to me.”

A soft chuckle mixes into the gentle breeze. “How did it happen? How did you become the way you are? Did you eat a magical cookie or you were just born and you’re Spiderbaby?”

That pulls a short-lived laughter out of Jaehyun. Bracing his hands behind, he catches the brightest star to the west when he looks up. The sky doesn’t hold a candle to Taeyong’s eyes. “I wasn’t born like this. Some weird spider bit me two years ago. And then all my senses heightened. Honestly, I’m still discovering new things about what I can do. Grandpa sewed this costume for me. Said if I’m gonna be a superhero, I should look like one. When there’s an incoming danger, I feel it. Here.” Jaehyun taps the back of his neck.

Taeyong nods in awe. “How do you deal with fans? Ever stopped for a second to indulge them?”

“Uh, one time. Some mother wanted to take a photo with me for her daughter. I suppose from how hard she groped my ass, she brought home some feel of my ass, too.”

“Sounds familiar.”

They burst in laughter.

“Which is better, Gwangsan district or Dong-gu?”

“Dong district,” Jaehyun says in a heartbeat.

Taeyong smiles albeit sadly. He looks at his hands. “Why can’t we be, hyung?”

It is silent for a moment, and then Jaehyun lets go. “I’m scared. The Gwangsan-gu fight won’t be the last I’ll get into. Grandpa…your parents… won’t be the last I’ll fail to save. I will make a lot of enemies if I haven’t already and one of them will discover my weaknesses. I got two, Taeyong. Slippery surfaces and you. And they will take advantage of it. They will hurt you.”

“You don’t know that, hyung.”

“Taeyong, I’d rather you fall out of love for me than fall out of my life.”

“I haven’t even fallen in love with you yet and that’s the fucking problem, hyung.” Taeyong stands and grabs his book bag. “You’re making decisions for me.” Not wanting to be seen crying like a fool, he quickly leaves the rooftop.

Jaehyun expects Taeyong to keep walking. Instead, the boy stops in the alley next to the building, back pressed against the wall. From high up, he hears a few soft sniffles, and Jaehyun can’t just let him be anymore.

Taeyong turns his head to the side, avoiding Jaehyun. “You could go down here like a fucking normal person, hyung. Fucking show-off.”

Upside down and hanging on to his web, Jaehyun hums. “I thought I could impress you and make you stop being sad because of me.”

“You just rejected me for the second time and you expect me to somehow be less sad? Coming down here like that obviously shook your empty head.”

Jaehyun tuts. “I don’t wanna lose you, Taeyong.”

“Well I can’t just be friends with you too, okay?” Taeyong glares at the other’s inverted face before his, clenching his fists. “And if you’re not willing to take the risk with me, better leave me alone.”

“And what if I say no?”

“I will fucking kiss you.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Jaehyun whispers, “kiss me.”

Taeyong’s heart stops. They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, and then Taeyong does.

He reaches for the other’s mask, slowly tugs it down to reveal Jaehyun’s lips. “I will kiss you, hyung.”

There’s nothing movie-kind-of-a-grand-scale about it. Their mouths press together albeit a little awkwardly because of the angle, but they manage. Taeyong holds Jaehyun’s face as he leans in for more and is given without seconds thoughts, because Jaehyun has just changed in mind - in an instant. A kiss from Taeyong is simply more powerful than him or any of his enemies.

How could he have ever been afraid of being with Lee Taeyong?

Taeyong is just slipping his tongue in that hot mouth when the web suddenly gives up and down Jaehyun goes, pathetically falling on his head on the slightly damp ground.

“Hyung!”

Grunting, Jaehyun sits up with a lapful of Taeyong removing his mask to check his head for any injury. “What the hell–” He looks up and sees the culprit that chewed his web. A squeaking mouse. “That hurts.”

“Hyung, are you okay?” Taeyong gently pats for any bump or cut and laughs at the annoyance on Jaehyun’s face. “That was fucking funny. Too bad I didn’t get it on camera. It would’ve sold–”

Jaehyun shuts him up with a smooch. He just can’t get enough now that he’s got a taste of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to just be friends. Please give me another chance? I’ll… If it ever comes to whatever I fear, I’ll protect you. I’ll do anything I can to protect you.”

“If only I knew a simple kiss has this much hold on you, I would've done it earlier. Some stuff could've been avoided.” Heart soaring over the moon, Taeyong catches more of those kisses. He practically melts then for Jaehyun takes his lips like he's savoring each press and breath they share. Like it's a first time for him as well to have something as unadulterated and precious as this, and maybe so. Big, warm hands grip Taeyong's waist, refusing to let go. 

When their lungs begin to protest for a break, Taeyong reluctantly pulls away. “Can you please do me one more favor, though?”

“Anything.”

“I want to fly again.”

Taeyong watches the TV for some real-time coverage of a drug bust operation that turned into some wild car chasing. In Jaehyun's kitchen, Yibo and Xiao Zhan argue whether or not they'd be screwed if they ask for a day off tomorrow so they could go somewhere. Ah, the Chinese lovebirds. Better let them be.

He’s just on the part where the camera pans in and focuses on Spider-Man leaping off the top of a 35-storey building and landing on his feet before stopping the getaway truck with his bare hands when he gets a call. He picks it up without looking away. “Hello?”

“Lee Taeyong! What kind of pictures are these?!”

“Why, Mr. Choi? What’s the matter?”

“They’re immaculate! How did you get these shots? Such pure talent! These must be on the front page! No one has ever given me something like this before! Where have you been, kid? Absolute magic! God sent!”

“You flatter me too much, Mr. Choi. A magician doesn’t tell his secrets, though.”

“Oh, you! Anyway, I just called to confirm you’re definitely getting a whole page for your shots alone. Get that bank account ready, alright?”

Taeyong keeps his cool as he says good bye. Propping his feet on the low table, he keeps his eyes on the screen as Spider-Man turns over the bags of illegal drugs in the hands of the police, dealers hanging upside down the traffic light like diurnal bats.

“I’m no magician, Mr. Choi. Just dating some superhero, is all."

ㅡ And now a professional photographer, but you get him.