Chapter Text
The hero and villain now have found themselves inside John’s little, cluttered apartment complex. Regular street clothes adorned John while Andrew went for the shirtless look as his own attire was currently drying. Not that.. anyone had a problem with this arrangement of course.
John decided to distract himself from the bared torsoed gentlemen with a dishcloth he used to dry any stray water droplets, scrubbing vigorously into soft brown hair. He moved to sit down upon his sofa mid scrub, and the younger man cleared his tight throat with a gentle cough.
“So, erm.. how you see— ye can see, right?”
The question was a feeble attempt to break away from the awkward silence, holding no real commitment. Yet, he had wanted to bring up the topic to the semi-blind korean for over a few months now. There was no better time to ask and no real reason to wait.
Andrew just turned his head to the side and eyed him quizzically. At least.. John assumed that’s why his eyebrow was raised in such a way. John couldn’t quite tell underneath the korean’s shades.
“Do I have twenty twenty vision, or did you mean to ask if I have the capability to see shapes and other objects? Or, did you mean to ask if I am near or farsighted?”
“.. All of them at once I suppose?”
For lack of receiving a straight answer, Andrew just huffed and sat down beside his companion.
“No, I can’t see as visibly as I could once upon a time. But yes, I can see and mentally interpret shapes. If you mean to ask, how can I possibly move around the way I do without running into an object, persevere a punch, ect.. that comes from my enhanced senses.”
Andrew explained clumsily, his fingers fiddling with his own scrap of cloth that was draped around his neck. He supposed the discussion of his vulnerabilities were taking a toil on his self esteem.
Meanwhile, John’s face lit up at the mere mention of ‘enhanced senses’ and bounced his legs in exhilaration. The biracial american lamented the poor wash cloth that was most likely becoming strained in the excitable man’s tightened grip.
“You mean like Matt Murdock— a.k.a DareDevil, the human lie detector of Hell’s Kitchen!? Do you have, like, super human echolocation? Or enhanced proximity sense? Did you train in te ways of martial arts in order to sense yer surroundin’s like no other human bein’ has ever been capable of— like a change or shift in te air upon te weather or another person’s arrival or presence?!”
Silence.
“... I don’t know who that is and no, it’s not quite echolocation and I most definitely did not train in any fighting techniques to um.. sense people’s presence or auras or whatever.”
John faltered, jutting out his lower lip. He was a little disappointed with the answer. “Oh..”
The guest straightened and pursed his lips, “B-but well..” He interjected and cleared his throat. Now desperate to save the situation.
“You see.. since my initial conception and debu, I’ve had a gift. A gift that whatever I wrote about, came to life before me. Any; scene, exterior, interior, objects, creature— existing or for not, and sound effects, all at the command of my tongue by design. If the sky's the limit, then my imagination preceded any expectations or boundaries.”
Host gestured widely around the apartment as it shifted from the cozy little abode filled with all sorts of knickknacks, to his large, fundamentalist wooden mansion. It’s existence flickering in and out like a lit candle before disappearing all together.
John had tucked his knees up towards his chest, hugging them to contain his excitement by this point. Leaning forward to listen intently to his guest’s words, completely enthralled as the Host continued.
“That came with experience that I had to gain. So, I spent a lot of my time studying abroad and traveling just to get any and every miniscule detail of my skills perfect.”
As the tale was recounted, slowly but surely, Andrew’s prideful smile began to diminish on account of how the topic of conversation would begin to turn more sinister.
“But, well... Humans are of a much different and vexing story. Nothing I created or imagined ever regarding them felt genuine or authentic enough. I began to think, if whatever I made wasn’t going to give a visceral reaction— then why shouldn’t I test my limits upon the real thing.”
The villain paused, listening for a reaction from his adversary, sitting directly next to him. When a few moments passed, Andrew took the silence as permission to continue.
“You.... May have also noticed that my only other limitations are my inability to empathize or emote properly. So finding the conventional emotions didn’t come as naturally, I digress. In any case— my control over the people I used in my earlier stories were of less than successful test. While the intangible was under my control, humans…..talked back, argued, did things without my consent, went against the narrative, had free will.”
“You mean a normal human response te exploitation or kidnappin’ scenario? Sumthin’ you extort n’ break in order te fuel selfish gains?”
The Irishmen sassed effortlessly, opting to lean back upon the arm of the couch.
With that said, Andrew glanced back at him, the corners of his lips fell into a frown. Fingers tugged frivolously upon the hand towel due to anxiety. Clearing his throat in dismissal, the older man opted to just pay the comment no further thought.
The situation was awkward enough, he didn’t need to be called out for any more shit today.
“Well, my... condition—“
“Condition or complex?”
“.. My condition does indeed heighten my other senses, but in a different way. How to explain this— let’s see..”
A hush came over the crowd of one and the korean raised a hand to his chin, rubbing leisurely at the scratchy stubble in thought. He imagined a body, not just a body, but a person in front of him. He moved up from his spot on the couch in order to stand towards the opening of the kitchen and living room, making sure that the expanse was an exceptional use for his demonstration.
Host spoke out, and framed his hands just so, positioning himself adjacent to the imaginary figure.
“Say there’s a man right in front of me, three feet away. Height is six feet and two inches, weight approximately oh.. say, one hundred and forty-five to one hundred and ninety-four pounds. Now, an average man like that would have to be a blue collar worker, or at most he works in an office building as an intern somewhere. Given this day and age— an IT assistant or a manager. Either way, he’s adequate at his job. Moderately placed upon the corporate ladder, but nowhere near the top. Average life gets the better of all of us. Jobs are more demanding or scarce, taxes are higher, likelihood of anxiety and depression is about seven point three percent to ten point nine percent—“
“We get it Sherlock.”
John bit back with a playful grin, he too could get caught up in over explaining something as well. It was kinda cute and endearing to see how seriously Andy was taking this.
The Korean huffed in response and glared halfheartedly at the direction of the younger.
“Do you want me to explain how this works or not? You’re the one who asked after all, I would appreciate some cooperation, okay?.. I still need to make today up to you so just…. let me have this.”
John hadn’t expected that, and didn’t miss the way his boyfriend’s ears burned with a tint of pink. His heart throbbed in sympathy for the man. “Okay, m’ sorry. Please continue.” He replied softly.
“Alright..” Andrew reframed himself again, clearing his throat as he got back to his train of thought.
“So, the male is already at a disadvantage. Their negative thoughts and emotions, I can hear them, and see every single aspect of their present life as it all happens. I tap into their psyche; feelings, ambitions, how they operate— what’s their goal? What are their aspirations in life? I play it against them. I get inside their head, coaxing them to fight.”
The shadowy blob of a man mimes what Andrew had explained. Throwing their hands on their head and shaking in anguish. The shadow, hunches over, still clutching at their nonexistent ears.
Andrew makes a beckoning gesture, and the figure turns, raising their fits in anticipation.
“Now that he’s distracted, weighed down by his own limitations, giving into mental instability—“
The figure lunges forward, swinging it’s fist straight to the right of Andrew’s head. The blow is blocked by the opposition’s forearm. The narrator wastes no time and jabs his unoccupied hand into the victim’s ribs, pushing the shadow back with a hard stumble. Host is ruthless as he goes in for a firm right hook.
“Helpless. I calculate, resposition, listen, read how his stance is, describing which muscles are slack. His mind races with more deep and personal things. I have successfully worn down his defenses and adrenaline, tarnishing the human’s instincts to survive in a fight.”
The moment the Host lunges to make his move, the victim anticipates a cross and blocks it’s head with its arms. Host is a step ahead of the opponent. Going in low, the master of illusion sweeps the shadow’s legs out from underneath, knocking it flat down upon its back. Host pins the training dummy down by the neck, completely incapacitated.
“And now, he’s rendered under my control.”
Andrew stands and removes the hand towel around his neck. The workout had completely dried him out from any lingering perspiration. As the shadow disappears into nothing, Host licks his dry lips and faces John with a final exhalation of breath.
“That is how I see. Through thoughts, a different play on empathy, peering through another’s eyes and studying their vision. Taking an individual’s weakness and manipulating their will.”
Silence came, and silence followed after. Andrew felt a bit self conscious as he could sense those wide eyes boring into his very skin, making it crawl with unpleasant itching. He wrung the hand towel in his hands to the point of nearly letting his nerves rip it into pieces. He had to speak, had to cut through the thick tension with his words— why wasn’t John saying anything?
“Listen— I know it’s not…what I’m trying to say is, you see, I— it isn't necessarily something to be proud of from a certain perspective, but….”
“You kiddin’? That’s so awesome!”
The sudden exclamation of excitement and praise made the older man jump from the sheer suddenness. The words caught up soon after his initial surprise. Andrew could hear the animated man tremble in his seat, and decided to sit down beside him before he spontaneously combusted from excitement!
“You’re.. not mad or repulsed?”
“Uh, compared te everythin’ else I've endured today? I think you explain’ this is nuthin’ in te grand whole n’ all.”
John scoffed, scooting himself closer. His voice spoke in loud volumes of warmth and confidence, completely at ease despite what was just told to him.
Maybe he didn’t truly comprehend the grasp of the situation? Sometimes the hero’s spontaneity really made Andrew’s brain hurt. What he wouldn’t give to have just a quick peek inside that frazzled brain. But then again, he supposed that was why he found the younger man intriguing alongside the description of charming.
“I’m….. Still sorry about that.”
“Jus’ promise me that this— Us, won’ be endin’ anytime soon?”
The expectation… The need for a promise such as that took Andrew off guard again. His mind racing with thoughts and scenarios of every kind. The train of thought ran so fast that the Korean nearly let his powers slip, feeling a shift in the atmosphere of the room again. He forced those thoughts to come to a halt and hurriedly uttered his skepticism.
“You really want to stay with me? Me? Even now that you have a deeper understanding of how my mind works and where it tends to go?”
“M’ a hero aren’t I? I can handle whatever ye throw at me n’ will continue to. That is, if you’ll have me..?”
There was a momentary pause, Andrew considering the weight of his words while replaying every little event that had happened today. John was always giving him choices, outs, as if the Irishmen were the one who was a burden to be around. The older male was touched as well as disappointed in that evaluation. So, instead he decided that he would in turn, give the hero a choice. Anxiously gulping down the knot in his throat, Andrew took a breath.
“John, I can’t be positive that something or other of that nature won’t happen again. I can’t see the future, and I can’t promise that I won’t hurt you again. Who knows if we’ll both end up killing each other… what I mean to say is, if you can’t save me—“
Andrew only bowed his head, not saying anything. Expression still too sour for the hero’s liking. John’s own playful grin faded and gently placed a hand on the man’s broad shoulder in comfort. Trying to coax the author out of his strange funk.
“Hey.. It’ll be okay. Jus’ talk te me. Trust in me. We can handle anythin’ tegether. M’ not gonna give up, I mean...anythin’— if ye believe strongly in it, is worth fightin’ fer. Right?”
Andrew wasn’t too convinced with the assurance John was trying to convey. But the twisted ego never got anywhere by playing it safe. So, resting his head against the chest of the only man who seemed to accept him...he allowed himself the liberty to hope for a better tomorrow to fill his thoughts.