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The screen shone with various colors, defining the figure of what once was a simple boy with dreams. As if the gloomy weather wasn’t enough, the apartment was silent, yet it felt louder than it had ever been. Wreck stared at his phone, disbelief over the recent news gnawed at his heart, forming a kind of hole that could never be filled by anything but the smile that he vowed to protect.
“Moon this, Moon that,” he says bitterly, the name falling off his tongue like venom, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. His hair dangled down his face, the smooth locks smoothing his view as he let out a huff. His head on the armrest of the wooden couch. The liquid pouring out of the glass cup landed on his lips as he drank it, spilling most of it on his clothes.
Suddenly, this apartment felt haunted by memories of someone that no longer existed.
With a push, he managed to sit up to get familiar with his surroundings once again. The dimly lit room made a small smile creep up to his lips—the other side of the room was half walls of memories. With a dizzied move, he stumbled to that side of the room. Shared cries and laughter, shared dreams. All gone. For what?
Being a hero? Ridiculous. Those dreams were put down since he and Nice applied to be none. One with his best friend that took his life. The only person he cherished the most. His thumbs moved across the pictures hung on the wall, his body trembling with a mix of grief and sorrow, that never-ending, growing feeling of affection clawing at his chest.
It was only the beginning of something that bloomed for the past few Springs—hell, seasons. All of it stolen from him within a heartbeat.
——
It doesn’t take a genius to find Miss J. And it also doesn’t take much time to punch off everyone who dared to stand in his way. Without a second thought, he pushes down the busy halls to be met with the door. With his hands put against the knob, he realized he wasn’t sure what he was here for.
“I don’t have what you're looking for, Wreck,” a familiar voice cut down the silence that he grew to enjoy for a moment.
His train of thought interrupted as he slowly turns his head back with a bitter laugh, his hair falling back as his body faced the wall whilst his head hung backwards.
“Don’t have what I’m looking for, you say? That’s kind of humiliating of you to say. You can fake him to everyone, but not me. Why? Why did you fool everybody?” he said.
The blonde woman lifted her glasses up her eyes again with a clear deep of her throat as she walked over, opening her office. Neat, organized.
“Fucking hypocrites always seeking perfection,” he murmured under his breath, a smirk forming on his lips. Pathetic. It was pathetic how all these so-called heroes pretended to be perfect, faking a life that didn’t exist in the first place.
With a smooth move, he fell on the chair. Miss J had her hands over either side of her head.
“We couldn’t—” she paused, searching for the right words. “We can’t let them know that Nice is gone. The replacement was quick and honestly, Lin Ling is doing a great job,” she said, her words holding a weight of confidence yet also hesitance.
“So your smartest idea was to create a replacement? Please, he’s like an Amazon version of Nice,” he retorted with a snort, his palm falling over his lips. “Did you even think about the consequence of your actions?”
The mocking was evident in his tone. His palm slowly dawned down on the wood of her table as he tapped beat by beat. Her gaze hardened, jaw clenched.
“You are NOBODY to tell me what I should and should not—”
Mid her words, Wreck let out a laugh.
“He killed himself in the price of what everyone expected from him. Perfection. It’s everything that you pathetic pitied underthings will never be. And you know what? I’m glad that Nice is free from your… world.”
With that, he stood up and took a few measured steps toward the door.
As he realized how silent the woman had been, he lowered his head to the floor. A rush of confidence thrumming through his veins, pride for protecting his beloved’s name.
“Good luck with your next victim. Make sure he at least uses an original way of committing. He doesn’t have to be Nice in such a vulnerable state.”
And with that, he raised two fingers above his head, swinging them off as a signature before he took his leave.
Miss J sat there, her eyes falling to the table anxiously. This made it all worth nothing.
———
Days suddenly felt too long for the black-haired man's liking. Nothing passed the time anymore. Those ocean-blue eyes haunting his mind constantly like a plague.
Nice’s eyes were far more gorgeous than that cheap replacement. Staring at them didn’t feel real anymore.
It took a while for him to accept that Nice was gone. Being that fake Nice’s nemesis didn’t feel the same at all, and within a week he had already quit that fake title.
“All that heroes have… all what they got their fame off is just pure lies. Yet they are the heroes that everyone relies on. Kinda ironic, isn’t it? Relying on people who can’t rely on themselves,” he says to almost no one.
Technically, there is no one.
He runs a hand down his face with a grunt.
“I swear I’m going insane.”
He stood up carefully, stepping down the hill he was sitting on while watching the sunset. Not so long after, he landed carefully and dusted his clothes.
And he saw that figure. He almost believed it could be Nice—the Nice that he knew. But he was foolish. Just staring at those eyes was enough to prove him wrong.
“What are you doing here?”
Lavender eyes cut sharply through those alternate blue eyes.
“I knew I’d find you here,” Lin Ling—or dare I say, Nice—said. His tone was careful and he didn’t dare to utter another word.
“How did you know about this place?” Wreck questioned. Not only did this man steal the identity of Nice, the hero, but also the piece of what was to count as Nice’s personal life.
“I accidentally found out through the pictures Nice had kept,” the whitish-haired boy replied almost instantly.
Wreck only let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Listen, kid, no matter how hard you’ll try, no matter how perfect this all may seem for you, just know…”
Wreck paused, his signature grin appearing on his face.
“You’ll never be Nice. Never. During this long run, you’ll lose yourself as well.”
“I know I’ll never replace your best frie—”
Before the man could continue, Wreck snorted a little, making the white-haired boy feel rather stupid for his choice of words.
“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” Wreck said with another laugh.
Nice stood there, waiting for Wreck to finish the outburst of laughter he had just fallen into.
The wind flew their strands, the sun finally completely set, the only thing keeping their vision clear was the moonlight in addition to the warm, orange street light between them.
“Nice was the beginning of everything to me, and unironically he was the end too. He wasn’t only a hero to me—if anything, he was more like my hero. All of the scheduled fights as his nemesis—god, they always ended with a shared laugh down some building. Nice wasn't just a best friend.”
Nice swallowed the lump forming in his throat upon realizing. This was the missing piece of the puzzle.
“The last time I saw him, he laughed and threw a punch at me—unforgettable. His side hugs and random playful outbursts… anyone seeing him wouldn’t believe that he is the one and only mighty perfectionist Nice.”
“He was too messy,” he smiled to himself.
Nice’s head fell to the ground, the simple words cutting sharply.
“I’m sorry.”
Was all he managed to say. Simple words that can never live up to the reality of their situation.
Wreck shrugged, his shoulders slumping afterward—a gesture that spoke volumes about how his emotions rolled.
“Well, try to not make the same mistake. You have just started. Get yourself out of it.”
Wreck forced himself to spit those words. It felt like a responsibility to tell Lin Ling to watch out—to give him a warning that he felt nobody gave.
“I've made my choice. I know what I signed up for,” Nice said with an appreciative curve lining his lips.
Wreck nodded as the man stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking a few steps forward.
“Alright. Good luck,” he whispered, shoulder by shoulder. Then, as he walked away, he disappeared into the shadows of the dark, the peaceful night falling into comforting silence.
Nice balled his fists into his hand.
“I can do this,” he said, and he stared up at the sky, a confident smirk playing on his lips.
Nice.
He's Nice.
———
That night was not as peaceful as anticipated. Wreck wasn’t sure how he ended up here—Nice mid-fight, people all across the city struggling to collect enough strength to stand up to their feet, heavy breaths, and a mortifying amount of people calling out for help.
“What the fuck,” was all the coal-haired guy whispered out.
While Nice fought the enemy away, Wreck made his way down to the kids stuck nearby a falling statue.
“Hey kiddos, come on, one by one.”
He held one hand out, supporting the trembling, shaken kid. It didn't take him long. As he told them which way to run away from—he heard a loud explosion.
*Nice.*
No, *Lin Ling.*
Wreck turned his head to face the scene, but no, he wasn’t met with smoke only, but a familiar white cape with that remarkable cut at the bottom.
Without hesitation, he used his powers to make it down to the battle area. The blood and smoke was all there was to breathe in, yet that wasn’t the thing that made Wreck lose track of his breathing process.
It was those piercing blue eyes staring into his soul.
Injured, hurt, weak and tired.
And he loved them more than ever.
The silence was so loud. Lin Ling—or, well, the other Nice—lost consciousness because of the waves of the bomb that had been brought.
Wreck raised his hand, his gaze drifting before he saw that smirk slowly drawn to Nice’s scarred lip.
He slowly stepped forward, his hands reaching for his face.
“You’re alive,” a mere whisper, something that could barely be audible.
“Mhm,” Nice whispered back, his hand reaching to hold his wrist. “Did you think it’s that easy to kill me off?” he remarked with a laugh.
A weight fell off Wreck’s heart—oh how he had missed that smile. How he had missed his sarcastic comments.
“You’re actually not that difficult to get rid of, I suppose,” he retorted with a smirk. He couldn’t pay attention to his surroundings—not when Nice was here.
Nice is here.
He is here.
He’s in front of him.
Nice watched the way Wreck went silent, the way his best friend seemed out of reach, in another world, almost.
With a sheepish smirk, Nice raised his other hand and snapped his fingers into Wreck’s ear. “Hey, I know I’m wildly handsome but you don’t have to be so stunned.”
Wreck was still in his daze, but he gained enough energy to push the other lightly. “Handsome? Please, you look worse than your Amazon version.”
They both stayed quiet as they observed the chaos. Then a laugh left Nice once again. One laugh, then another, and Wreck felt himself smiling harder than he had in weeks.
Then they laughed together.
Hard, messy, chaotic. So many words stuck in their throats that even a jittered cup of alcohol couldn’t spit out. Words that were too heavy on their hearts.
As their laughter died out, Nice stood there, then he offered his hand out.
Wreck didn’t dare hesitate to throw himself into his arms.
“This is messy,” the lavender-eyed man whispered.
“You love messy.”
Tight arms wrapped around Wreck’s body, heads buried in shoulders with silent sobs that neither of them would admit to letting out. “I do.”
I love you.
——
And with that, wreck woke up, heart beating fast and drips of sweat falling down
his forehead. Eyes wide open as he realized he was in his room.