Chapter Text
It’s a miracle. Two machines open.
Jimin never gets this lucky.
Basically, the only time Jimin is ever able to actually do his laundry in this building is at 2am after a 12-hour shift. Only three washing machines for a seven-story building. Who in their right mind could think that’s enough?
But today seems to be his lucky day. A day off and two open machines.
He opens both, wanting to stake his claim before anyone else swoops in and steals one. People in this building are ruthless. Especially the halmeoni in 7C. The amount of times Jimin has come into the laundry room minutes before he knows his dryer is supposed to go off (he always sets a timer, thank you very much) to find her unloading his still damp clothes, claiming every time that she had been waiting for “at least 10 minutes.”
A real supervillain, that’s what she is.
She won’t get him this time though. These machines are all his.
He loads the machines at the same time, clothes in both first and then pours the detergent in after. But, it’s as he’s just tipped in the last capful of liquid detergent to his second load and is shutting the lid on the washer that the lip of the lid accidentally hits the open detergent container.
It’s like Jimin sees it in slow motion. The lid hits the middle of the detergent bottle and it tips off the edge of the machine.
Jimin scrambles for it but his hands grasp air. “No! Oh my—”
In the milliseconds the detergent takes to fall, Jimin curses this day, a day that was supposed to be good. What happened to it being lucky? Maybe luck is just not meant for Jimin. Maybe he should just accept that.
But when the bottle is centimeters from the ground a hand appears seemingly out of nowhere, just managing to get under the container before it hits the ground. The uncapped top of the bottle is up. Not a single drop of liquid has spilled.
Jimin turns to find the face of his savior.
“— God .”
Shiny, jet black hair, plump lips, strong eyebrows.
“Just Seokjin is fine.”
Oh my god, it’s 4B.
They’re close to each other, both bent toward the fallen container. Never has Jimin been this close to 4B before. Sure, he’s admired him from afar for months now because he is without question the most beautiful person Jimin has ever seen in his life.
The times they’ve ridden the elevator together have left Jimin in an hours-long haze of longing. Frantic texts to Taehyung that started as various versions of “I rode the elevator with 4B!!!!!!” and from then on proceeded to devolve into incomprehensible keysmashes that provide all the context that Taehyung needs.
But now, Jimin is centimeters away from him and the true force of his beauty leaves Jimin feeling like he’s been stunned.
“Or Jin, if you really want,” 4B adds.
Neither of them have moved. They’re so close that Jimin can feel puffs of air as 4B speaks. Jimin doesn’t know his own name, let alone other words.
“Huh?” he replies stupidly.
It’s the realization of his own stupidity that makes Jimin snap out of his trance. He straightens and in front of him, 4B does too.
“How did you— Where did you—”
Words still fail him. But really, 4B came out of nowhere.
Seokjin. Jin. 4B has a name.
“Fast reflexes,” Jin replies with a smile.
He holds the detergent out to Jimin and Jimin takes it from him.
“Thank you,” Jimin replies sincerely. “You’re my hero.”
Jin’s smile widens and Jimin feels like he’s going to die. He’s so hot.
“Happy to help,” Jin replies.
It’s then that Jimin notices the clothes hamper balanced on Jin’s hip.
“Ah,” Jimin says. “Sorry, I took the last…”
He gestures toward the machines behind him. He has the sudden urge to pull his clothes out of one to free it up for 4B. But that would just be insane. He’s already put the detergent in. What is he gonna do? Pull his soapy clothes out and give 4B the impression that he’s a psychopath? No way.
But the third machine’s timer reads that it still has 35 minutes to go.
“Ah,” Jin mirrors, hoisting his hamper up to hold it in both hands. “Well, that was always going to be too large of a miracle to hope for. You know, I don’t think I’ve ever come down here to find an open machine?”
“Never?”
“Not once.”
“I just came in to find two open!”
“Oh my god, it is a miracle,” Jin says with a gasp.
“That’s what I thought!”
And then Jin smiles at Jimin again and Jimin once again loses the power of speech.
“You’re 4F, right?” Jin asks.
“Yeah,” Jimin replies, surprised.
Jin doesn’t say anything else, he just tilts his head to the side and opens his eyes wider. Jimin is confused for a second but then it hits him.
“Oh! Jimin. Park Jimin.”
Jin extends a hand to him. “Kim Seokjin.”
His hands are soft. Jimin feels like he could die within this handshake.
Jimin can feel himself blushing as he releases Jin’s hand and he turns away hurriedly. He retrieves the cap for the detergent and screws it on.
“Sorry,” he repeats with a wince as he turns back to Jin.
“Ah, it’s fine,” Jin waves him off. “At least I was able to help a fellow laundry-doer in need. That’s enough for me.”
Jin turns to leave but Jimin calls after him.
“I could come knock on your door when I’m coming down to put my stuff in the dryer.”
Jin squints at him and Jimin wants to die again for a different reason. Was that weird? Jin was the one who recognized Jimin. He knew his apartment number. It’s not unreasonable that Jimin also knows where Jin lives, right? Not a stalker. RIGHT?
All of that crosses Jimin’s mind in the few beats during which when Jin is squinting at him but then Jimin notices Jin is stifling a smile.
“Depends,” he says with what Jimin can tell instantly is mock seriousness. “When will you set your timer for?”
Jimin smiles. Instead of answering, he turns back to the machine to see how much time is left. Then he pulls out his phone and starts the timer for 5 minutes before the machine will finish. He then holds it out for Jin to see.
“Ah, you’ve been Mrs Choi’d,” Jin says, sagely.
“Mrs Choi’d?”
“7C.”
“Oh my god, my nemesis.”
Jin laughs breathily. “A real scourge on society, Mrs Choi.”
They even share the same enemy.
“So…” Jimin says, and Jin looks at him expectantly. “I’ll come get you?”
Jin smiles. “My hero.”
🦸
Jimin sags against the door of his apartment, tossing his phone and his keys toward the table next to the front door.
He misjudges the distance and both clatter to the floor a few inches away but he’s too exhausted to care.
However, as his phone hits the floor, it lights up and he sees the time.
1:17am.
His 10-hour shift in the OR had turned into a 16-hour one when there were complications in the surgery he had attended. Luckily, the patient had pulled through but Jimin’s not sure if he’s ever been more exhausted.
Probably. Almost definitely.
But still. He wants to curl up in a ball right there in front of the door and fall asleep for the next 48 hours he has off.
He doesn’t bother picking up his phone. No one will contact him at this hour and there will be no alarms set in this household tonight.
He puts the deadbolt chain into the door and stumbles further into his apartment. It is sweltering . It’s always a hot box on days like this, the heat having no outlet when he’s gone for as long as he has been. And his rickety, old air conditioning isn’t strong enough to keep up. He really should replace it but he’s never been the best at self care. Ironic since it’s his job to take care of people. Or maybe it’s because of that. He has no energy left for himself.
He stumbles over to the living room window and yanks it open. There’s barely any breeze but the outside temperature is definitely cooler than it is inside.
His stomach groans. He hasn’t eaten since lunch.
Food or shower. That’s the debate he always has with himself after a long shift.
He looks down at his scrubs and sees the way they’re tinted dark at the edges with sweat from the subway journey home and his decision is made for him.
Quick shower then food.
He’s almost tempted to crawl down the hallway to the bathroom but he manages to stay upright.
As he turns on the shower, his stomach groans loudly again.
That’s when he remembers. He was planning on stopping at the grocery store when he got off work. God, does he even have anything to eat in this apartment? He’s not sure he’ll survive waiting for delivery either.
He leaves the shower to heat up and makes his way back to the kitchen. He sighs as he pulls open the fridge. He knew what he would find there but the sight of the empty shelves—only a bottle of hot sauce, a few cans of beer and some mottled limes—almost makes him want to cry.
He knows he also already finished his supply of ramyeons yesterday. He’s been meaning to go to the grocery for a while now...
“Shit,” he swears under his breath.
He yanks open his freezer and spies his savIor. An old frozen pizza he doesn’t even remember buying. He scans the packaging quickly and thanks whatever force exists in the universe that it’s not out of date.
He turns the oven on quickly and unwraps the frozen pizza and flops it out onto a baking sheet. He leaves the oven to heat and goes back to the bathroom.
Steam fills the bathroom, clouding the mirror. Jimin is just lifting the hem of his top when he hears a loud crash from his living room. He jumps back with a gasp, standing still in front of the shower clutching his chest.
He waits, listening carefully.
More thumps. Softer now but definitely present. Then an unmistakable cough.
There is someone in his apartment!
He whips his head around, looking for something to grab. Something to defend himself. All that’s there is in the plunger and the toilet brush. Neither will do any damage.
He jumps again as he hears more noises from his living room. It sounds like someone is stumbling around now.
How did they even get in? Oh , the window. But, still, how? He’s on the fourth floor, for Christ’s sake.
And— oh god —he left his phone where it fell by the door. There’s a clear line of sight from the living room to the front door. There’s no way Jimin will be able to sneak past the intruder to call for help.
Fear courses through him. He did take taekwondo when he was in school but it’s not like he’s ever used it for practical purposes. And it’s been years since he last took a class. Why didn’t he keep it up?
But can he really take on this unknown intruder? What if they’re bigger than him? Or armed?
Maybe, if he simply tries to make a run for it? Run as fast as he can for the front door and—
Ugh. He deadbolted it. It’ll take him time to get the door open. He won’t stand a chance against an intruder who would do him harm.
But that’s when it hits him. Taekwondo wasn’t his only area of study.
He steadies himself, sucking in a deep breath, and tries to convince himself that he’s brave, even though his heart feels like it might just beat out of his chest.
He peeks out of the bathroom door and down the hallway toward the living room. He still hears some minor scuffling from the living room but doesn’t see the intruder in his line of sight.
He seizes his chance, darting out and quickly, as quietly as he can on his light dancer feet, rushes into his bedroom. He knows exactly where his old kendo sword is. Thank god his dad made him take it because it was taking up too much room at his parents’ place. He doesn’t even have to turn on the light. He reaches into the closet, his hand finding the sword immediately even in darkness. He pulls it out from behind his hanging clothes and unsheathes it.
He takes a moment, allowing himself time for one deep breath to steady himself and then he creeps out of the room on his tiptoes, doing his best to step lightly to not alert the intruder of his presence.
He stops just around the corner from his living room. Waiting. At first, he hears nothing, no thumps or scuffling, no coughs. But then he hears a deep exhale. Deep, long and slow. Another one follows. Then a clearing of the throat.
Is this person just making themselves at home?
He waits a few beats longer but the deep breathing just continues.
So he summons all his courage, raises the sword slowly above his head and launches himself around the corner.
“GET OUT OF MY—”
“Hey! No! No! Wait! Please!”
Jimin stalls, sword still raised above his head.
Because the figure huddled near the open window of his apartment is nothing like he expected to see.
The figure—a man, Jimin realizes immediately—is crouched on the floor, pushed half off the ground with his left hand. His other hand is outstretched in a placating gesture but only for a moment before he pulls it back to his stomach. He coughs then, and stumbles, losing the strength to hold himself up, and half crumbles to the floor.
“Please,” the man repeats, curling up on the floor and clutching his stomach.
“You’re—”
Jimin is torn between saying hurt and something else. Because this man is not only hurt. That’s not the only thing Jimin sees.
No, he is distracted by what the man is wearing.
Bluish silver from head to toe. Tight leggings and a fitted zip up athletic jacket. And there’s a cape attached to the shoulders of the jacket. When the man held his hand out, Jimin also saw that the cape is attached on the other end to the gloves on the man’s hands. His head and face are covered too in a tight cap and mask that covers most of his face. There’s only a slit for his eyes.
Jimin’s jaw drops. “Flying Fish?!”
The superhero Flying Fish is in his living room. What in the world?
The surprise of it stymies Jimin for just a few beats before another urge kicks in.
“Oh my god, you’re hurt!”
He drops the sword and rushes toward him.
Maybe he should be more on edge still. Flying Fish is still a stranger, even if he is one of the city's most trusted superheroes.
Just last week, Jimin saw on the news that Flying Fish had dove down into the river to save a bus that had tumbled off a bridge. The footage of him emerging from the water, holding the bus by the nose, tail end up, over his head is seared into Jimin’s memory.
And now he’s here cowered on Jimin’s living room floor clutching his stomach, seemingly unable to stand.
“No!” Flying Fish says, holding out his hand again.
But this time, Jimin notices how the glove is stained with fresh blood.
“I’m a nurse,” he pleads. “Let me help you.”
He reaches Flying Fish and gently pushes him on his back. He realizes as he touches him that his costume is a wet suit. Flying Fish doesn’t resist as Jimin guides him on his back. Instead, he groans in pain.
With Flying Fish on his back, Jimin is able to see the long, jagged tear in his suit, the skin of his stomach beneath it, the edges of the cut also stained with blood.
“No,” Flying Fish repeats but his voice is weak, pain evident.
“You need medical attention,” Jimin replies sternly.
Flying Fish closes his eyes and exhales.
Taking that as consent, Jimin lifts the hem of Flying Fish’s jacket and pulls it up.
“Oh god,” he whispers.
The cut is almost six inches long. The top of it, just under Flying Fish’s rib cage on the right side of his stomach, looks the deepest. Like whatever stabbed him went in there. The blood is flowing mostly from the top, pouring out at a frankly alarming rate. But the rest of it looks shallow. Merely a scrape as whatever stabbed him exited and dragged down his side, just nicking the skin there.
Jimin pushes himself to his feet and runs the few steps to the kitchen, wrenching a drawer open and pulling out a stack of clean kitchen towels. He brings them back and presses one to the cut.
“What happened?” Jimin asks, all business now, his years of training taking over.
Flying Fish’s voice is small and his breathing labored but he responds, “Kebab.”
“What?”
Is that the name of some supervillain that Jimin doesn’t know?
“Someone…” Flying Fish takes a deep breath. “...really wanted fish skewers.”
Jimin blinks.
“Come on,” Flying Fish continues, still labored but with a hint of humor in his tone. “That was a really good one.”
Jimin just stares at him. “You’re going to bleed out on my living room floor and you’re making jokes?”
Flying Fish exhales, an unsatisfied sigh this time. “I was chasing a bad guy and he went into a construction site. I tried to fly in after him but I got caught up on an exposed beam of some kind.”
It’s only then that Jimin notices the slight mechanical sound to Flying Fish’s voice. He must be using a voice modulator. Not an intense one, just what sounds like a slight deepening of his tone.
“Like I said, Fish—” he pauses and Jimin knows that if he was mobile he would be pointing to himself “—skewered.”
Jimin ignores the joke. “It looks deep. We need to get you to the hospital. You’ll need stitches—”
“No hospital,” Flying Fish states firmly, his tone serious for the first time. “I heal quickly. It’ll be okay.”
“You have to. You could have nicked an organ. Or at the very least, you could get an infection.”
Flying Fish looks up at Jimin, his eyes focusing on Jimin’s. They look so human underneath underneath all the bright neoprene.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Jimin. Park Jimin.”
“Park Jimin,” Flying Fish repeats back, barely a whisper. “I can’t go to the hospital, Park Jimin. People like me don’t go to hospitals.”
Jimin knows he’s right. Going to the hospital would likely expose Flying Fish’s identity. And then Jimin will have saved his life only to put him in immediate and grave danger. There are people out there who would want to harm an unmasked superhero.
Jimin looks Flying Fish in the eyes, still holding the kitchen towel tightly to his wound. Flying Fish’s eyes are still direct and firm.
Beautiful, something in the back of Jimin’s brain identifies.
“Are you telling me the truth?” Jimin asks gently. “Do you really heal quickly?”
“Yes,” Flying Fish says, no trace of humor left in his tone. “Not immediately but—” He takes a deep breath. He’s in pain. “—things that would take you weeks to heal from, I can normally recover from within a few days.”
There is sincerity in his tone. None of the false bravado. No jokes.
The cut looks serious though. A recovery that would take months, not weeks. And there could be something even more serious beneath the surface that Jimin can’t see. If Jimin doesn’t force him to go to the hospital, will he be neglecting his duty to provide care?
Though, it occurs to Jimin then, luck was on Flying Fish’s side tonight. Because he somehow ended up in the apartment of a nurse.
Wait…
Jimin looks toward the window. “Oh my god, did you fly in here?”
“More or less,” Flying Fish replies.
“What does that mean?” Jimin asks, his voice pitched high.
Flying Fish’s cryptic, flippant responses are annoying in such a serious situation.
Flying Fish opens his mouth but Jimin cuts him off. “Never mind. You’ll just be vague if you answer at all. It’s not important.”
Blood is gushing very scarily from the wound in his stomach and Jimin knows that he needs to do something about it.
“Can you hold this? I just need to run to get some supplies but you need to keep pressure.”
Flying Fish closes his eyes and nods his head once. His left hand settles on Jimin’s, overlapping them.
“Okay,” Jimin exhales, steadying himself for what he has to do and then he removes his hands and lets Flying Fish hold the towel.
He rushes back down to his bedroom, jumping over his discarded sword, and wrenches open his closet once again. He finds his first aid kit there. It’s fully stocked. He knows it is.
He vaults back down the hallway to kneel once again at Flying Fish’s side.
Flying Fish turns his head to look at Jimin. “My hero.”
Jimin feels himself flush.
He clears his throat and begins to clean the wound. And he’s immediately heartened. Yes, the wound is still bleeding but not nearly as bad as Jimin expected. With the wound clear, he is able to tell where the cut is the deepest and where it seems to be simply a surface wound.
He runs his cloth over the deepest part and Flying Fish flinches. “Ff —” He changes his mind halfway through the word. “Fish sticks.”
“You even swear in fish puns? Seriously?” Jimin asks as he quickly finishes clearing away the blood.
Something he’s learned in his years as a nurse is that when a patient feels pain during a necessary part of treatment, the best method is not to stop. To continue and finish quickly. Stopping now would just prolong the pain.
“You got a problem with that?” Flying Fish asks a bit forcefully. “I mean, seriously, if you don’t like them you just have to…” He pauses for effect. “Let minnow.”
Jimin almost laughs. It’s so bad it is actually funny. But he works hard to restrain his laughter and focuses instead on finishing the work of cleaning the wound.
“Nothing?” Flying Fish asks.
Flying Fish is looking at Jimin so expectantly. If Jimin were to admit it to himself and to Flying Fish, he is endeared. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.
He finishes the cleaning and grabs a large bandage from his first aid kit. The blood doesn’t seem to be flowing as strongly now. Maybe Flying Fish wasn’t lying about healing quickly after all.
“You know,” Jimin begins with a sigh. “You dream about meeting a superhero and you imagine that they’re going to be so cool. Aloof. Maybe a bit intimidating. But somehow I ended up with the superhero who does stand up.”
Flying Fish doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he narrows his eyes.
“What?” Jimin asks, a bit exasperated.
“You dreamed about me?” he jokes.
“Oh my gooood,” Jimin groans. “Maybe you should’ve been called clown fish instead.”
To Jimin’s surprise, Flying Fish bursts into laughter. His joke wasn’t even funny. But any humor that Jimin could find in the situation ends quickly when Flying Fish’s laughter only lasts a few seconds. It quickly cuts off into another groan of pain.
“Careful,” Jimin repeats forcefully. “Do I need to sedate you so that you stop hurting yourself?”
“I must be stopped, doc! Lox me up!”
“Oh my god,” Jimin whines but he can’t stop a laugh from finally escaping him. “They’re just getting worse and worse!”
Flying Fish doesn’t laugh this time. “I don’t know if you’re being completely honest. You did laugh.”
“Out of pity,” Jimin protests. “I’m taking care of my patient, physically and emotionally.”
Jimin is working quickly to lay the bandage on Flying Fish’s skin.
“Thank you.”
Jimin is almost thrown off by the sincerity in Flying Fish’s tone. It's a hard turn from the light heartedness of the last few minutes.
“It’s what I do,” Jimin replies with equal sincerity.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky to end up accidentally flying through your window.”
Again, direct and sincere. Jimin pauses to look into Flying Fish’s eyes. He is already gazing back. It feels strange when those eyes are the only part of Flying Fish that Jimin can see. Well, that and his exposed, bloody midriff. And yet, he feels so connected.
Jimin is just opening his mouth to respond—he’s not sure in what way—when he’s interrupted by a loud, resounding buzzer.
Flying Fish jumps, his arms coming up from his side, like he’s prepared to protect himself.
“It’s okay,” Jimin soothes with a smile. “It’s just my oven saying that it’s at temperature.”
“Ah, yeah, okay,” Flying Fish replies nervously.
Flying Fish’s hands are still in front of his face. The image of it strikes Jimin as hilarious. He tries to stifle a laugh, biting his lip to do so.
“Why are you laughing at me?” Flying Fish asks, almost petulantly.
“A superhero who only speaks in fish puns and jumps at loud sounds?” Jimin replies, still trying to keep in his laughter.
“Now who’s the clown?” Flying Fish, once again with narrow eyes.
“Still you,” Jimin answers.
Jimin finishes securing the bandages and Flying Fish looks down at his work.
“All fixed up?” he asks.
“Not even close,” Jimin replies, seriously. “Look, I know you have your reasons but you really should go to the hospital. There’s a lot that could still go wrong. You could have punctured something or you could get an infection—”
“I’ll heal.” Flying Fish pulls down his shirt and sits up. He winces as he does and holds his hand over the bloody rip in his wetsuit. “You know every fish can survive getting hooked once or twice.”
Jimin narrows his eyes at him. “Is that one of your powers?”
“Can you just let me have this one?”
Flying Fish moves like he’s going to push himself up.
“You don’t have to rush away!” Jimin says quickly. “You’ve only been here for like ten minutes. You can take some time to recover. You’re seriously injured. ”
Flying Fish pauses, still sitting on the floor. He seems to be studying Jimin a bit. But it’s not a rejection.
“I’m just about to bake a pizza,” Jimin continues. “You could, I don’t know, stay for a bit.”
It sounds like he’s propositioning him. Jimin cringes. Really, he was just thinking of giving him a breather. He still feels like he’s shirking his responsibility by not insisting that Flying Fish go to the hospital. But if he thinks about it, there’s also probably something else behind the suggestion…
And Flying Fish doesn’t reject it immediately. He seems to be really considering it for more than a few beats, maintaining eye contact with Jimin.
But finally, he looks away, sighing.
“Thank you but I should really get going. It’s late and I’m sure you weren’t exactly an expected visitor.”
He moves, putting the hand on his good side on the floor beside him to push himself up. Jimin reacts, reaching for him to help him up.
“Thank you,” Flying Fish whispers as Jimin helps him stand.
Flying Fish is taller than Jimin. He really does also seem to have a swimmer’s body, lean with wide shoulders. A good body, Jimin notes.
Jimin holds him for a few seconds, Flying Fish’s good arm around his shoulders. Flying Fish is the one to pull away first.
“I really do appreciate it.”
“No problem,” Jimin replies.
Flying Fish looks at Jimin for a few more seconds, like he might want to say more. But finally, that moment breaks as well as he begins to move.
But Jimin stops him. “Would you come back to see me?” He flushes, realizing how that sounds. “I mean— For your injury. The bandages.” He gestures toward Flying Fish’s stomach. “They’ll need changing. And I know you said you heal quickly but in case you’re lying, I really should check—”
“I’ll come back,” Flying Fish replies. “Tomorrow?”
Jimin smiles. “Tomorrow.”
Another pause as they gaze at each other. Jimin doesn’t feel like he’s imagining the extra feelings there. There’s interest from both of them.
“Okay,” Flying Fish replies.
And then he turns toward the window, taking a few steps toward it.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Jimin nearly yells.
Flying Fish looks a bit confused. He gestures toward the window and then to himself. “Flying Fish, remember?”
“If you jump out that window right now, your bandages will not hold. You’re not healing that quickly. And we have a perfectly functional elevator that you can use instead.”
Flying Fish sighs. “Okay, fine, doc. But do you have any idea how stupid this outfit looks riding an elevator?”
“Well, you have no one but yourself to blame for that one.”
Flying Fish sniggers as Jimin walks him to the door.
“I mean, are these wings even functional?” Jimin continues.
Flying Fish raises his good arm and the wing unfurls under his raised arm. Jimin was right, it is attached to his hand.
“Actually, they are,” Flying Fish responds. “A bit.”
He giggles quietly.
“They mostly help me steer.” But then he tilts his head. “Not that it helped tonight. Though…” He eyes Jimin thoughtfully. “I guess they did lead me to you so maybe I shouldn’t knock them.”
Jimin feels his breath catch a bit. There’s a hesitancy in Flying Fish’s body language. They’re standing fairly close together and he isn’t rushing out the door.
Jimin clears his throat. “Happy I could help.”
Jimin leads Flying Fish toward the door and opens the door for him and Flying Fish takes a step toward it but then stops halfway out of it. Jimin holds his breath. He’s definitely sensing something here.
They both open their mouths at the same time.
“No heavy lifting either!” Jimin gets out first. Flying Fish huffs a laugh. “No heavy furniture or…buses.”
Flying Fish draws his finger across his heart. “Promise, doc.”
They’re silent again. Just for a beat. And Jimin feels almost lost in Flying Fish’s eyes.
And then Flying Fish says, “See you tomorrow?”
“Huh?” Jimin replies stupidly. “Oh! Right.” The check up. “Y-Yeah. See you tomorrow.”
Jimin can’t see the bottom half of Flying Fish’s face but he can tell he’s smiling at him again. His eyes are slightly crinkled.
“Good night,” he whispers as he walks out the door.
“Night,” Jimin replies, shutting the door behind him.
He collapses against it after he’s gone.
“What in the world…?” he mutters to himself.
🦸
“Did you get his number?”
Jimin scoffs into his drink. “What do you think this was? Speed dating? I didn’t even see his face.”
Taehyung just continues to stare at him, stony faced.
“No, I didn’t get his number,” Jimin clarifies.
“What, so he’s just going to show up at your window every night for check ups like some masked Peter Pan?” Hoseok asks.
“Who Jimin has a crush on,” Taehyung finishes for Hoseok.
“I don’t have a crush on him,” Jimin states, a bit too forcefully.
Taehyung just stares at him again, unconvinced as Hoseok giggles. Jimin scoffs dismissively and takes another long sip of his drink.
Jimin hadn’t meant to get (a bit) drunk at lunch. But he couldn’t resist texting Taehyung when he woke up to tell him about his middle-of-the-night run in with a real life superhero. And Taehyung had texted Hoseok and, well, they somehow ended up having a boozy mid-week brunch.
“No, Taehyungie, you know that our Jiminie is saving himself for 4B,” Hoseok intones like a wise elder.
Jimin just rolls his eyes at him.
“Ah, two mysterious love interests,” Taehyung says with narrow, conspiratorial eyes. “How stirring.”
“There are no love interests!” Jimin dismisses.
Taehyung continues to eye him, undeterred.
“What exactly are you expecting from this?” Jimin asks, defensively.
Hoseok snorts. “Well, Jimin-ah, you did just spend the last thirty minutes talking about how funny he was and nice and—” Hoseok starts speaking in a lilting voice and tilting his head from side to side “—how down to earth he was. And how great it was to meet a superhero who didn’t seem to be in it for the fame and glory. And—” he turns to Taehyung “—didn’t you hear, Taehyung-ah, how pretty his eyes were. And, oh yeah, that sense of humor—”
“OKAY!” Jimin cuts Hoseok off, spilling a bit of his drink in his exuberance.
Hoseok and Taehyung share a conspiratorial giggle.
“FINE!” Jimin adds. “Fine. He was— whatever, he was nice but, like, nothing happened and— I mean, do I really want to date a superhero? Oh my god, even saying that is ridiculous. And what would that even— There’s no way that would work. And—” Jimin looks at each of them to see them sporting identical, knowing smirks. “Just no! I’m not— No.”
They’re all silent for a few beats as Jimin breathes a bit deeply after his rant.
“Convincing,” Hoseok quips and Jimin has to resist throwing his drink at him.
Hoseok chuckles and lifts his glass to clink Jimin’s. Jimin accepts it reluctantly.
“Do you think he has gills?” Taehyung asks.
Jimin heads home about an hour later a little unsteady on his feet.
Ultimately, he knows Taehyung and Hoseok are right. Jimin is intrigued by Flying Fish. No, he’s not interested in dating him. That would be ridiculous. People like him don’t just date superheroes. And, anyway, it was just one ten minute conversation. And he never even saw his face.
Sure, his body in that tight wet suit looked good and yes, he did have beautiful eyes. And it’s not like someone’s physical appearance is that important to Jimin— Wait. That’s probably only a check for Taehyung and Hoseok’s argument. Damn. Jimin never saw his face and he still is acting like this today.
But Flying Fish really was insanely charming.
As Hoseok said, some superheroes really do just seem to be in it for the fame and glory. Most of them. They all save a bunch of people from a villain and then hang around to give masked interviews. And every one of them is so full of false humility. They’re all, “ Thanks aren’t necessary. Your safe return is all the thanks I need. ” They wave off praise but then stick around to receive more and to take photos and hug survivors and kiss babies and shake hands of grateful spouses.
Jimin has never had any time for any of them. They don’t really care about helping people. It’s all about ego.
But Flying Fish… And not even just last night. It’s not like Jimin has news alerts set for every superhero or anything but he’s never seen an interview with Flying Fish. After that bus incident, he remembers the newscaster saying that they had tried to secure an interview but Flying Fish had flown off before they could approach him.
And last night, even as he was clearly in pain, he was self-deprecating and playful. It was just… charming. That’s all.
It takes Jimin a few tries to unlock the front door of his building. He’d definitely had a bit too much to drink. Stupid for the middle of the day. But Taehyung and Hoseok have never been the best influences in that department.
He finally manages to get inside and he heads toward the mail room. He hums quietly, shuffling his keys in his hand until he finds his mail key.
He only looks up when he walks into the mailroom.
“Oh!” he says in surprise.
Jin jumps, startled by Jimin’s sudden exclamation, flinching and whipping his head around.
“Sh—” he starts but then he collects himself. “Oh! Hi!”
Jimin giggles. Jin’s flailing was a bit of an oversized reaction but there’s something incredibly endearing about him losing his cool.
“So sorry!” Jimin says, still giggling. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
But Jimin can’t contain his laughter.
“Yeah, you sure sound sorry,” Jin says, but he accompanies it with a warm laugh of his own so Jimin knows he’s joking.
“Sorry,” Jimin tries again.
But he’s still too smiley, he knows it. But there’s just still something about Jin that flusters him. And he has had a bit too much to drink.
“I forgive you,” Jin says, smiling kindly back. “Are you…?” He gestures toward Jimin’s mailbox.
“Oh, yeah, right.”
The mailroom is narrow, barely wide enough for one person to stand in, let alone two, so Jin flattens himself against the wall to let Jimin pass. Jimin has to step over a few packages on his way. There really should be a better way of receiving packages. Or a wider mail room.
Again, it takes Jimin a few tries to get his key into the lock of his mailbox. This time, Jimin’s pretty sure it’s the embarrassment of knowing that Jin is standing half a foot away watching him struggling.
He finally manages to unlock his mailbox and that’s when he realizes. Jin hasn’t moved the whole time Jimin has been getting his mail. Jimin peaks at him, questioningly. He’s standing still, one arm folded against his chest and the other hand against his chin, looking at a large package that Jimin stepped over to get to his mailbox.
“You…” Jimin begins hesitantly. “...okay?”
Jin seems to snap out of his trance as Jimin asks. “Oh, y-yeah. Totally.”
He doesn’t sound fine. He seems frazzled. Jimin doesn’t even have to question him again though.
Jin gestures with the hand that had been on his chin toward the package.
“I just—” He seems to be searching for the words. “I’m a frail, Victorian child without any muscle mass and I’m hoping if I stare at that package long enough it’ll levitate and follow me back to my apartment.”
Jimin squints back and forth between Jin and the package. Jin doesn’t look like a muscle man, that part is true, but Jimin can tell even under his oversized hoodie that Jin is athletic. And the package is large but it doesn’t look unmanageable.
“So, that would be your superhero origin story? You faced your greatest nemesis, a heavy package, and realized you have telekinesis?”
Jin snorts first and then laughs, high pitched and, frankly, unexpected. There’s a squeakiness to Jin’s laugh. It almost sounds a bit like a dry windshield wiper. It’s the kind of laugh that is unashamed, like Jin doesn’t mind being the butt of a joke. It’s shocking. In Jimin’s experience, people that attractive never have such a good sense of humor.
“How do you know I would be a superhero and not a supervillain?” Jin asks conspiratorially.
It’s Jimin’s turn to laugh. A bit too hard, maybe. But Jimin feels a little giddy at the fact that he’s now on speaking terms with 4B. Jin.
He means to lean back against the mailboxes but he somehow misjudges the distance and stumbles slightly. Jin lurches forward, like he’s going to help steady Jimin.
“You okay?” Jin asks at the same time that Jimin mumbles, “‘m good.”
But Jin’s hand is already tight around Jimin’s bicep, steady and secure. But then Jimin notices that with the movement, Jin’s face has contorted into a wince, his brow furrowed and his lips tight.
“Are you okay?” Jimin asks.
“Yeah!” Jin replies quickly. Unconvincingly.
Jimin just keeps looking at him. There’s nothing outwardly wrong with him but Jimin has enough experience to notice that he’s carrying himself a bit differently.
Jin sighs. “God, it’s embarrassing. But…”
Jimin’s not sure where this is going.
“I, uh…” Jin continues. “My, uh— My idiot little brother thought it would be a great idea to make me lift weights at the gym ye—a couple days ago and I seem to have pulled something.”
“Oh! Are you okay? I mean, did you get it checked out?”
Jin smiles. “Yeah, my doctor just told me to take it easy for a few days.”
“Let me guess, you told your brother they said a few months?”
Jin taps his temple. “Ah, you know me so well already.”
“If you need anything, just let me know.” Jimin feels himself getting hot as he speaks. What could he possibly do for Jin? “I’m a nurse,” he clarifies quickly. “Not that I can really do anything for a pulled muscle. Those just need time to heal.” God, will Jimin ever not embarrass himself in front of Jin? He’s rambling. “But, yeah, if you need any advice or anything…”
Jin is smiling politely at him. “Um… Do you think, I mean, if you’re really serious…Do you think you could…”
Jin’s eyes flit to the box.
“Oh!” That is something Jimin can help with. “Oh, yeah, of course! No problem.”
“Ah hah,” Jin says with a satisfied smile. “Maybe I have just discovered my powers after all. Powers of persuasion.”
Jimin snorts.
Jin’s smile softens again. “Or, maybe I just have a really kind neighbor.”
Jimin’s cheeks feel like they’re about to burst into flames.
“It’s no problem. It’s the least I can do.”
Jin looks down at his feet. “My hero. Once again.”
Jimin doesn’t trust himself to speak coherently so he just begins to bend to pick up the box.
“At least let me carry your mail for you,” Jin says.
“You think you can manage?” Jimin jokes.
“Ah, Park Jimin, you underestimate me—” but then Jimin hands him the few letters he retrieved and Jin collapses, pretending the letters are much heavier than they are. He even mimes fumbling them. It’s very convincing.
Jimin laughs as he bends to pick up the box. It isn’t not feather-light but could be easily carried by an adult, even one with a pulled muscle. Maybe 20 pounds. If that. Maximum for sure.
Jin is already heading out of the mailroom and toward the elevator. The elevator opens immediately after Jin pushes the call button. Jimin follows Jin into the elevator and they settle in side by side as the elevator starts to climb.
After a few beats of silence, Jin says, “Do you have the day off?”
“Oh, yes,” Jimin replies.
“You must work a lot.”
“Yeah, ten to twelve-hour shifts for the most part but then most of the time I have four days off. So it’s really not that bad.”
“If I were you, I’m not sure if I would leave the house on my day off.”
Jimin chuckles. “I normally don’t. At least the first day off. But my friends…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He just waves his hand off in what he thinks is the general direction of the restaurant they went to. Jin smiles but doesn’t push for further clarification.
The elevator dings on the fourth floor and Jin leads the way to his apartment.
As Jin opens the door, he says, “Do you…” There’s a hesitancy in his tone that Jimin can’t place. “...normally sleep a lot on your days off?”
Over Jin’s shoulder, Jimin can see that his apartment is shaped differently than his. Whereas Jimin’s is on the corner and therefore is in an L shape, Jin’s is long and narrow. Jin leads the way in as Jimin answers his question.
“Oh, yeah, normally. I mean… sort of. I’m generally a pretty bad sleeper so on my days off I tend to stay up stupidly late.” Jin gestures Jimin onward down the hallway as he veers off into the small kitchen. “I only regret it when it comes to my first shift back on.”
Jimin reaches the main space of the apartment and sees that, while it’s differently shaped, it looks a whole lot like his own. There’s a small dining area with a 4-top dining table first before the living room.
“What’s stupidly late?” Jin asks from the kitchen.
“Oh, you know, if I don’t stay awake long enough to see the sunrise, it feels like a rare achievement.” He hears Jin laugh from the kitchen. “Just on the table?”
“Thanks!”
There isn’t much space on the dining table, though. It’s covered in stacks of slightly untidy papers. Jimin has to nudge one of the stacks out of the way to make space for the box and while he’s doing that, he catches what the papers are. A typed sheet with numbered questions. In the open space below the questions are messy, handwritten answers and then at the top right of the paper is, in red ink, a score out of 100. Jimin takes a quick look at the rest of the papers that cover Jin’s table and see they’re all the same.
Oh my god.
“Are you a teacher?” he calls loudly, too loudly because he turns and sees Jin has emerged from the kitchen and is standing about a foot away from him, holding out a glass of water.
“Yeah,” Jin replies, rolling his eyes.
“And you were saying that I must work a lot.”
“Ah, yeah, but I don’t save lives.”
“No, just shape them.”
Jimin rushes to take the glass from Jin because his traitorous, inebriated brain betrays him and blurts out what it wants to. Because how did Jin just become fifty times hotter? How is that even mathematically possible?
Speaking of which…
“Math?” Jimin asks, glancing back at the papers, which are filled with a series of complex equations.
“Physics,” Jin deadpans. “Not sure what convinced me to do that. At this point, I’m in it purely to try to discover a method for time travel to go back and convince myself not to become a teacher.” Jin scoffs. “Little monsters, my students.”
But he says it all with a gentle smile. Jimin can tell he loves it. And, god, his students must love him. He must be so much fun.
“High school?” Jimin asks.
“Mm,” Jin confirms.
“That’s…” Hot. “Amazing. I definitely would’ve stuck with physics if I had a teacher as—” hot “—cool as you.”
Traitor. Stupid brain.
“Ha, thanks. If I could go back and tell my nerdy high school self that a badass nurse would one day be calling me cool, I’d tell the bullies to bring on the wedgies.”
Jimin’s brain can’t compute a proper response to that statement so instead he blurts, “I was in math club.”
Jin’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Really? Oh my god, you really…”
Jin trails off. Not completing the sentence. Instead, he looks at Jimin intently, a soft smile playing at his lips.
Okay, maybe Jimin’s lunch mimosas are making him read more into that look than he should but… He feels something.
Should he… Oh my god, should he do something about it. Should he ask Jin out? Invite him over for dinner? Okay, that one is out because Jimin would never subject anyone to his horrible cooking but maybe—
“OH MY GOD!” Jimin yells, a higher decibel than he intended, and Jin jumps. Jimin slams his palm to his forehead. “Oh my god, I am such an idiot. Why am I so dumb?”
Jin’s eyes are wide and concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh my god, I’m just— Nothing. Well, other than my stupidity.”
He had one thing to do today and then Taehyung and Hoseok distracted him with unnecessary day drinking and now Jimin will once again starve if he doesn’t leave for the grocery store right this instant.
Jimin moves to head toward the door, looking back at Jin to say goodbye when he notices that Jin still looks very concerned for him.
“Oh god, sorry! No, everything’s fine. I just forgot to go to the grocery store.” Jin immediately relaxes. “Didn’t mean to— Sorry. I just have been needing to go to the store for about a week now. I swear…”
He starts walking toward the door. Jin follows him.
“I mean, if you wa—”
“God, I really cannot be trusted to do anything. I need to be institutionalized, I swear to god.”
“—nted to stay—”
Jimin wrenches the door open, barely registering that Jin is speaking.
He turns back quickly. “Thanks for…” He trails off. Jin didn’t actually do anything for him. Except be hot in his presence. And prove that he’s even hotter than previously realized. A teacher? What the hell? “Thanks. See you around. I need to go commit myself, I swear to god.”
Jin is smiling, amused. “Maybe just a grocery shop instead of an institution?”
“Nope, I can’t be trusted anymore.” Jimin huffs. “See you never, probably.”
Jin laughs. “See you, Jimin.”
Jimin waves an arm behind him and stomps toward the elevator. It opens immediately. He just catches a last sliver of Jin’s face as he closes the door, still smiling, as the elevator doors slide shut.
🦸
While Jimin does sober up while shopping, choosing groceries while under (a slight) influence plus the high of the interaction with Jin plus the anticipation of another visit from Flying Fish means that Jimin comes home with more snacks than he would normally allow himself to buy and fewer well-balanced meals.
It really is ultimately Flying Fish’s fault. Jimin started thinking about him visiting again and how it would be nice to have something to offer him.
Maybe, just maybe, he won’t rush off so quickly…
Ridiculous. He shakes the thought away. What is he expecting here?
Jimin spends the rest of the afternoon and evening distracted, unable to focus on anything because he’s too antsy.
Hoseok was right. No, Jimin doesn’t think Flying Fish would’ve given Jimin his phone number or taken Jimin’s but they could’ve at least set a time. A rough ballpark.
Last night, Flying Fish had gotten there around 1:30am. Should he expect him to come around that time again?
Jimin can’t stop himself from looking at the clock frequently.
Oh my god, should he open the window? Is Flying Fish going to fly in again?
He better not! He needs to be taking it easy. No, Jimin doesn’t understand the mechanics of human flight but he’s pretty sure it takes more physical exertion than Jimin would encourage with Flying Fish’s injuries as bad as they are.
Plus, Flying Fish has already proven that his steering isn’t foolproof.
Jimin’s brain unwittingly produces the mental image of Flying Fish missing the window and ending up splat against the side of the building like a bug on his windshield.
A light knock at the door startles Jimin out of his daydreams. Jimin jumps up from the couch.
He looks at the clock over the stove to see it’s just past 10:30pm.
He hurries toward the door, accidentally knocking his hip against the table beside his couch in his haste. But he otherwise makes it to the door unscathed. He peeks through the peephole and is startled to see a hooded figure dressed in all black. Oversized black hoodie, black sweatpants. The figure’s head is bowed so he can’t see the face.
But then, the figure raises their head and then Jimin sees the same blue-ish silver material from Flying Fish’s wetsuit.
Relief spreads through him and he pulls the door open.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hey,” Flying Fish responds, just as softly. “Is this an okay time?”
That slightly mechanical tone of Flying Fish’s voice is still there but now that Jimin isn’t as distracted by the blood and, you know, the superhero of it all, it feels more pronounced. If Jimin had to guess, he would probably say it’s pitched at least two keys down from Flying Fish’s normal speaking voice.
Jimin wonders what his voice actually sounds like.
Flying Fish holds his hands out and it’s only then that Jimin notices they’re not empty.
“What’s this?” Jimin asks, taking the offered paper bag and peering inside.
“Tteokguk. I made some earlier.”
“You cook?” he asks. “Oh! Come in, come in. Please!”
He shouldn’t let a superhero wait on his doorstep for too long. Sure, it’s late but any of Jimin’s neighbors could come out at any moment. How would he explain the superhero at his doorstep?
Oh god, what if Jin came out and saw them?
He steps aside to let Flying Fish enter.
Jimin closes the door behind him and then turns to see Flying Fish surveying the space. There’s something so much more domestic about seeing Flying Fish in his space tonight. He could be any other—normal—boy visiting Jimin late at night. But no boy who’s ever come to visit late at night has brought him tteokguk. Or anything. Except maybe a couple bottles of soju.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” Jimin says, holding up the bag.
“Ah, no, I couldn’t show up empty-handed,” Flying Fish says as he peers around Jimin’s apartment. “That would just be shellfish.”
Jimin sags under the weight of the pun. Fish doesn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, he walks further into Jimin’s apartment as Jimin goes to drop the tteokguk in his kitchen. When he returns to the living room, Fish is hunched over in front of Jimin’s gaming console. It’s sitting on the floor, the collection of wires dangling awkwardly from where they’re plugged in to the bottom of his TV. He’s never gotten around to finding a proper home for it. He has the urge to apologize for the mess but he resists.
“You listened to me,” Jimin blurts instead.
Flying Fish looks at him and the domesticity dissipates as Jimin looks not at the face of a potential lover but instead the shimmery, encompassing mask.
“You didn’t fly in,” Jimin clarifies.
“Ah,” Flying Fish turns toward the window. “Well, the window wasn’t open.” Jimin narrows his eyes at him. “And I follow my doctor’s orders.”
He tips his head toward Jimin.
“Thank you,” Jimin replies.
“Do you wanna…”
“Ah, yes, where do you want me?”
Why does this feel like the world’s most awkward booty call? Maybe the issue is just that Jimin is frustrated in that department. Maybe that’s the whole issue.
“Couch,” he replies quickly. “...would be good.”
During his antsy distraction during the evening, he had set out his first aid kit on the coffee table. He had originally also set out some snacks but that felt a bit presumptuous.
As Flying Fish sits down, Jimin hears a slightly, strained exhale.
“It’s still bad?” he asks.
Flying Fish’s eyes are squeezed shut. “Yeah, I’m actually impressed. Wasn’t sure I could even get injured like this. I guess I’m still human after all.”
It’s almost poignant. Jimin wants to ask how it feels to be a superior human. But he resists. That feels pretty personal.
Jimin sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of Flying Fish.
“Are you still sure about this no hospital thing?” Flying Fish looks up at Jimin and he can tell, even with only his eyes exposed, that he is reluctant. “I had to ask.”
“I appreciate it,” Flying Fish responds sincerely. “But I haven’t keeled over since the last time I saw you so I’m taking that as a good sign.”
“Honestly, that feels like a bit of a miracle.”
“What? Scared I was gonna die on you?”
“I wasn’t but now I am.” They share a laugh. “So there’s still pain but have you noticed any bleeding? Or itching or hotness? Your bandage still holding well?”
“Yes, no, no and… yes, you bandaged me up nice and tight, doc.”
Jimin is confused for a beat. “Oh,” he laughs. “Sorry, lots of questions. So pain yes, bleeding no, itching and hotness no. Right? ”
Flying Fish nods emphatically. “Hook, line and sinker.”
Jimin snorts. “Oh, so we’re still doing that?”
Flying Fish stares deeply into Jimin’s eyes. “We never surrender.”
“Oh my god, please tell me you don’t use fish puns on the supervillains?” Jimin puts his hands on his hips in an affected superhero stance. He lowers his tone to try to match Flying Fish’s. “You have three options: baked, fried or battered? There’s no swimming out of this net. I’m gonna gut and filet you and serve up on a platter.”
“Got a pen?” Flying Fish asks.
“I’m not your ghost writer.”
“Not even if I give you credit?”
Jimin tilts his head. “And how would you do that?”
Flying Fish puts a hand to his chin, like he’s really considering it.
“Oh my god, enough!” Jimin puts a hand on Flying Fish’s shoulder. “This isn’t comedy hour.”
“I didn’t start it this time.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Well, fish have been known to lie, you know. Fake eyes, make themselves look bigger than they are—”
“Well then how about you make yourself useful lie back already.”
Flying Fish holds a hand to his chest and gasps like he’s proud.
Jimin narrows his eyes at him. “Don’t.”
Fish snorts but also listens, not saying anything more as he leans back.
But it’s when Jimin places a pillow under his head, that Flying Fish takes a breath and whispers, “Lying Fish.”
Jimin has to hold back his smile, biting his lower lip to stop it. “That was weak and you know it.”
Jimin reaches toward Flying Fish’s chest, his hand hovering over the zipper of his hoodie. “Can I…?”
Flying Fish nods and Jimin unzips it. He’s surprised at first when he unzips it. He had expected to see the rest of his costume but instead he’s met with a bare chest.
Flying Fish notices Jimin’s surprise. “Figured I didn’t need the rest of it.”
Jimin smirks. “Didn’t want to ride the elevator again in it?”
“I really cannot express how embarrassing it is to be in a normal setting looking like that.” Flying Fish pauses. “And if anyone saw me here last night, I didn’t want them to see me returning. That could put you in danger if they think we’re connected in some way.”
“Oh!” Jimin replies, surprised. “Should… I mean, is there any reason to worry about that?”
He had thought of his neighbors seeing Flying Fish in his hallway but not the concept of someone misinterpreting things and thinking they have some deeper connection.
Flying Fish takes a deep breath. “It’s always a slight concern. It’s why I’m so careful about my identity. I would never want to put the people who associate with me at risk.” But then he adds quickly, “But don’t worry. I was careful. You’re not in any danger.”
Flying Fish’s tone is comforting. Jimin wonders if he’s perfected that over his years of saving people. The ability to calm people in dangerous situations.
“Right,” Jimin replies. “Plus, you wore a disguise for your disguise.”
“Exactly,” Flying Fish agrees brightly. “Multiple levels of deception. I’m a master of disguise.”
The bandage is still secured to Flying Fish’s side and Jimin is heartened to see that there’s only a slight darkening to it. No bleed-through. That must mean the bleeding has stopped. But he grabs a towel to have it ready just in case.
Flying Fish scrunches his eyes tight as Jimin begins to pull the bandage off. He goes slowly, carefully peeling the seal back, running his fingers along Flying Fish’s skin to ease the stretch.
Jimin is again relieved to see that most of the blood around the cut is dried and dark. Hours old. If Jimin had to guess, the bleeding likely stopped not long after Flying Fish left Jimin’s last night. But the part right at the top has some lighter, fresher blood. It probably bled a bit longer and for recently.
“Is something wrong?” Flying Fish asks.
“No,” Jimin says quickly, realizing just then that his stress must have shown in his face. “The part at the top isn’t closing up as quickly as I would have liked to see.”
“I promise I took it easy today!” Flying Fish says quickly. “No buses.”
“Or furniture?”
“Nope. Not even a heavy b— uh, book.”
“How heavy are the books you’re reading?”
“I’m very intelligent, thank you very much. A great reader of the heaviest literature.”
Jimin rolls his eyes but smiles. “I believe you. But, unfortunately for you, this does prove my point that even you should have gotten stitches. But …” Jimin adds quickly before Flying Fish can protest. “It’s not bleeding now so I guess you weren’t completely wrong.”
“Ah, vindication.”
“Hardly.”
They’re silent for a while as Jimin works to clean the wound. The skin is slightly irritated around the cut but Jimin is relieved to see no immediate signs of infection. Maybe Flying Fish is just that lucky or maybe there’s something different about superhero blood.
The silence is deafening as Jimin works. He feels insecure in his movements. Awkward. Last night had been overwhelming and weird and—yes—awkward but it was such a whirlwind that Jimin didn’t have time to dwell on that awkwardness. But this here, him gently cleaning the wounds of a half naked superhero laid out on his couch. So awkward it’s bordering on absurd. And when Jimin feels awkward he—
“Why are you laughing at me?”
“What?” Jimin’s head shoots up to look at Flying Fish. But even as he does, he can’t stifle another giggle from slipping out. “I’m not laughing!”
“He says with a laugh,” Flying Fish narrates. “You don’t laugh at my incredible jokes but something about my injury is funny to you?”
“No!” He tries for sincerity. Another giggle slips past him.
“So what’s so funny?”
Jimin thinks for a moment, weighing honesty versus deflection. Bluntness wins out.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says rapidly. “But this is really awkward. Like…” He gestures toward Flying Fish’s chest. “How did this happen? What are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m so glad you came back. But for some reason this is so much more awkward than last night. I mean, Flying Fish is here, half naked, lying on my couch and— I’m mean, last night was weird but maybe it was just the adrenaline. Or like the—” he waves his hands again “—excitement of it all. But now this is just…”
“Awkward,” Flying Fish supplies.
Jimin sighs. “Yeah. And when things are awkward, I laugh.”
Flying Fish is silent for a beat and Jimin is momentarily concerned that he’s offended him.
“Oh my god, you’re trying to think of more puns aren’t you.”
Flying Fish laughs. “There’s a dearth of puns happening tonight and I thought they could help.”
“Puns are never the solution. I should put this over your mouth instead.”
Jimin holds up his gauze.
Flying Fish laughs and holds his hands up like he’s going to hold Jimin off.
“But yeah, I get it. It is awkward,” Flying Fish admits. “This isn’t exactly normal for me either.”
“What do you normally do when you get injured?”
“Bandaids?” Flying Fish replies innocently.
“You’ve only ever needed bandaids? Come on, I refuse to believe you’ve never broken a bone before.”
“Only the first time.”
“The first time you flew?” Jimin clarifies.
“Yeah,” Flying Fish replies with a huff.
“God. What happened?”
Flying Fish is quiet for another moment.
“Sorry, is that too personal?” Jimin asks when Flying Fish stays silent.
“You could see my wheels turning?” he asks. Jimin just nods. “Sorry, it’s just not very normal for me to talk to people like this. I mean, as—” he motions with his good arm “—this.”
Jimin understands. “More than awkward for you. It’s a bit…scary.”
“I want to make a joke but…yeah.”
“That’s fine. I get it.”
Jimin realizes something as he says that. Shame creeps.
“I should— I mean, I have to apologize. God, I really wasn’t even thinking. I did tell my friends that you were here last night.” Jimin feels awful. “And that you were coming back tonight.”
Flying Fish breathes out. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
Jimin is quiet for a beat. “But I do. I didn’t think. I have no concept of the world you live in. I mean, I definitely have thought about how you put your life at risk every time you…” Jimin gestures with his arms. “...go out superhero-ing.”
That makes Flying Fish laugh.
“But you’re kind of always at risk, aren’t you?”
Flying Fish doesn’t respond but Jimin didn’t really expect him to.
“So, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Promise.”
“Jimin,” Flying Fish begins slowly. “It’s all good. I trust you. Promise.”
Jimin smiles. “Okay.”
Jimin takes extra care to make sure Flying Fish’s wound is dressed and secured properly. It’s the least he can do. As he does, he vows to tell Taehyung and Hoseok tomorrow that he saw Flying Fish tonight and realized that he healed quicker than he imagined he would and they parted ways.
No more gossipping about his superhero visitor. He should have a right to doctor-patient confidentiality just like everyone else.
And, maybe this really will be the last night.
As that realization sinks in, Jimin finds that he doesn’t want to say goodbye. But it must end somewhere.
Flying Fish notices it on his own. “Am I all set?”
“Yep!” Jimin tries for brightness. “I am actually impressed by how well it’s healed.”
“No infections?” Flying Fish asks.
“Not that I can see.”
“That exposed pole will have to try again to best me.”
“You live to fly another day. Our city can rest easy knowing that our friendly neighborhood fish will be…” Jimin tries to think of something clever to say. A pun?
“Ah, see, after only two evenings with me, you’re already seeing the struggle I face every day.” Jimin squints, uncomprehendingly. “Comedy in the face of absurdity.”
Jimin laughs. “Oh so you admit that all of this is absurd.”
“Of course I do! I wear neoprene and a cape and call myself Flying Fish and patrol the skies every night. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t choose to laugh at it?”
“Every single other superhero on this planet.”
“Ah, yeah, well you got me there.”
Flying Fish sighs and zips up his hoodie. He winces again and Jimin puts a hand on his back to help him sit up.
“So, what’s the advice this time, doc. Am I cleared for takeoff?”
“Takeoff? You can’t even sit up on your own without wincing. It’s not like I understand the biology of human flight but I assume it takes some physical exertion? I mean, in the movies it always looks pretty easy so maybe it’s nothing—”
Flying Fish snorts. “What, like Superman? God, the absurdity of that. It looks like he has invisible jetpacks on the bottom of his feet, I swear.”
Jimin giggles. “Okay, so what I’m reading from that is that it does take some effort. So, yeah, feet firmly on the ground like the rest of us normies until you feel like you’re up to it again. Things are looking good so, you’re probably good to just…” Jimin hesitates, resistant to say that Flying Fish probably doesn’t need to come again. “...good to trust yourself. To know what you’re up to.”
Flying Fish looks down at his now clothed stomach. “Would it… Would you mind… Maybe I could…Maybe you could take one more look at it? Like, maybe when I think I’m up for it again? Just to double check.”
Jimin can’t hide his relief. A smile spreads on his face. “Of course, come whenever you’d like! I mean, whenever you feel like you—” Need to? Want to? “Yeah, just whenever.”
Jimin can tell Flying Fish is smiling too. “Great. Thanks. I really would appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
And then Flying Fish pushes himself up to standing and Jimin panics again. Sure, he said he would return but he’s rushing off so quickly. He did try to get him to stay last night too, though, but he had rejected that idea. He really shouldn’t push but…
“You really don’t have to run off,” Jimin says before he can stop himself. “I mean, would you want to stay and have some of the tteokguk you made or…something?”
Again, it sounds like too much of a proposition. But maybe it is. Not even a seedy one. But just a…offer to spend more time.
“Ah,” Flying Fish sighs and Jimin can hear the rejection already. “Thank you but…it’s a bit difficult for me to eat in this stupid thing.”
He holds his hand up to his face. It’s nonsensical but in the time that Flying Fish has been there, Jimin has almost forgotten that he’s wearing a mask.
“O-of course. Stupid idea.”
“No, no, I do really appreciate it.”
What would they even talk about if Flying Fish stayed? Movies? TV shows? Would even that be too personal?
“I’m sorry—” Fish starts.
“No! Don’t worry. I get it.”
“Maybe another time?”
Jimin looks into Flying Fish’s mask and realizes that the offer is probably empty. But that’s okay. Flying Fish’s life must be very different from Jimin’s.
But all Jimin says is, “Sounds good.”
They walk toward the door together but before Flying Fish reaches it, he turns back to Jimin.
“You’re off until Sunday, right?”
“Right,” Jimin answers.
“So, maybe I’ll come on Saturday? Unless something happens over the next couple of days. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, that’s totally fine. Whenever you feel like you need it.”
“Was this a good time?” Flying Fish asks. “Not too…late?”
“Not at all. I’m a night owl.”
Flying Fish pauses for a beat. “I hope not the kind that eats fish.”
It takes Jimin a moment but when it sinks in, he rolls his eyes.
“I promise more puns next time,” Flying Fish whispers conspiratorially.
Jimin laughs. “That sounds like a threat.”
“Now, I’d believe that if you didn’t keep laughing.”
Jimin tries to hold it in, he really does. But it’s no use. The laugh escapes him and Flying Fish looks extremely pleased with himself.
He turns and opens the door.
Turning back, he says, “See you soon, Jimin.”
“Bye…” Jimin falters and Flying Fish waits, sensing Jimin’s hesitation. “Is there anything else I can call you other than Flying Fish?”
Flying Fish huffs comically. “What year were you born?”
“’95,” Jimin answers.
“Hyung is fine.”
Hyung. Flying Fish-hyung. “Fish-hyung?”
“Ah yes, completely normal.”
Jimin laughs. “Night, hyung.”
“Night, owl.”
Jimin laughs again as Flying Fish walks out the door. Jimin waits there as Flying Fish walks toward the elevator. He turns back just as he reaches it, waving as he realizes Jimin is standing watching him.
Jimin waves back.
He just sees Flying Fish push the elevator call button before he closes the door behind him.
🦸