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spiderman saved my life @moonfleur_
he grabbed me during that building collapse last year and trust me when i say that those guns are real
spidey’s #1 simp @missinghaechan
dude have you SEEN spiderman’s ASS in that red spandex??? i could bounce a quarter off those cheeks he got hella cake lemme at it
i saw spiderman once i swear @midnightblue_97
i saw spiderman and… is it bad that i’m tempted to throw myself out a window just to get saved by him? asking for a friend.
“Do you think Spiderman is cute? Under his mask?”
“I dunno,” the other girl says, leaning against a wall. “I think so. One of my friends said she saw him!”
“No fucking way.” The first girl gapes at her friend, leaning in closer as if conspiring. “Spill.”
Mark stifles a laugh, books stacked high in his hands. The two barely look at him, whispering excitedly about the possible attractiveness of the mysterious Spiderman. He slides books back into their places on the shelves of the library, listening as they debate what color hair the superhero has, and what his eyes look like behind the black glossy lenses.
The library is pretty quiet, a hallmark of post-exam but pre-new classes season. Mark hums beneath his breath, mindlessly sorting and stacking. The textbook section is finally being replenished, students returning late books. Mark only bothers to charge about half of them with overdue fees, choosing to turn a blind eye to the ones who drag heavy backpacks full of science books with dark circles carved under their eyes. He’s about to walk back towards the main desk when a loud voice interrupts his peace.
“I don’t think he’s that great,” someone says, and Mark can’t help but whip his head around to search him out. “I mean, the powers are cool and all but I bet he’s a nerd. Maybe he’s ugly.”
Mark bristles, barely listening to the girls from before vehemently jumping to his defense. He turns the corner, greeted by the sight of an unruly student, shrugging with his uniform slipping off one shoulder. Mark vaguely recognizes him, a face that he can’t put a name to but has probably seen in passing. Before he can get any more offended, the bell rings and he jolts. He only has five minutes to cross campus, and just like that, the naysayer drifts to the back of his mind.
“Lee Donghyuck,” he repeats after his best friend several days later after complaining shallowly about the incident.
Renjun nods. “He wasn’t hard to find. He’s got a Facebook group dedicated to people who aren’t Spiderman fans. He only has like, ten followers so I guess no one really cares.”
Mark furrows his brow, staring up at the stars hanging in the sky above him. Renjun shuts his laptop, sliding it off his lap onto the picnic blanket they use to sit out on his roof during warm summer nights. “That’s rude.”
Renjun shrugs and thumps Mark’s back. “Yeah, but it doesn’t matter. There’s bound to be at least a few people out there who don’t like you. Like me.”
Mark shoves him, clambering over the railing and swinging into his friend’s bedroom through the window. Renjun laughs, following him down slowly.
“Just teasing.”
The thought lingers, though, and Mark can’t forget the look on Donghyuck’s face as he proudly declared how little he cared for Spiderman. “I don’t think he cares if anyone is listening or not.”
Getting injured is part of the job, Mark thinks, grimacing and pressing a hand to his side. He hasn’t had to do much for a few days, perhaps the universe blessing him with fewer bad guys during test week, but of course, leave it to the universe to belatedly give him an egotistical, homicidal rich kid with too much time on his hands and access to way too many weapons.
The kid is taken care of, police wrangling him into the back of a car. He’s shouting, screaming on and on about damn Spiderman, I hate you, I’ll get you back for this. Mark sighs, leaning against the wall of the building he’s halfway up. The kid probably will come back, after his rich parents bail him out of jail with a slap on the wrist. At least the cut he got on his arm isn’t too bad, the thick material of his suit doing wonders to protect his skin. It doesn’t do much in the way of bruises though, and Mark winces as he stands, slinging a web out into the city to swing between buildings, letting the chilly air cool him off from his fight.
Renjun’s awake, because he’s always awake, and frowns at Mark when he climbs in through his window.
“Sorry,” Mark offers and Renjun rolls his eyes. “The kid had more knives than I thought he did.”
“Idiot.” Renjun busies himself cleaning up Mark anyway, rummaging through the first aid kit he keeps by his window for butterfly bandages. “You’re lucky it’s not that deep.”
Mark hums in agreement, biting the wince back when Renjun is a bit too rough with the disinfectant. He pulls his mask off, dropping it onto the windowsill.
“Be more careful next time.” Renjun finishes, lightly smacking Mark in the center of his chest, right over the black spider emblem. “Now help me study. I didn’t do the homework for our math exam.”
Renjun aces the test, and Mark scrapes by with a hard-won B+.
“I don’t know why I bother asking you,” Renjun huffs, tapping a finger on Mark’s test.
“I don’t know why either,” Mark retorts, too tired to care about being snappy. “You know I’m worse at math than you.”
“I just want—”
“He’s a fraud,” someone proclaims loudly, pushing through the doors to the food hall. “Listen, Jeno. He doesn’t even do much. What we should be doing is not relying on some fool in red spandex to take care of crime in our city. I’ve been looking into ways to restructure some of the departments for public services and—”
“Yes, Donghyuck,” someone says next to the one speaking passionately. Jeno, probably, who looks like he just wants to get his lunch. “You’ve told me.”
“There are so many programs that we could put in place and when I’m the mayor I’ll make sure no one needs any Spiderman.”
“Right.”
The two of them walk past Mark’s table, and he tries very hard not to swear aloud when Renjun waves them over. “Hey, Jeno. How’d you do on the math exam?”
“Fine.” Jeno glances between them, still ignoring Donghyuck mumbling about infrastructure next to him. “Can we sit here?”
“Sure. Go right ahead.”
Mark doesn’t swear but he does make sure to glare at Renjun pointedly, especially as Donghyuck slides into the seat next to him, loudly taking a bite of his apple.
“Fresh meat. What do you guys think about Spiderman?”
“I think he’s kind of dumb,” Renjun offers, and Mark kicks his shin hard. “But I guess he’s doing good things. Taking care of stuff police can’t handle.”
Donghyuck’s eyes narrow. “But what if the police were more equipped to take care of such things? So much could be prevented or even improved if we’d just dedicate some resources.”
Renjun shrugs. “Well, they aren’t. And Spiderman does. So.”
“And you?” Donghyuck turns to Mark, focused gaze making him shift uncomfortably. “How do you feel about Spiderman?”
“I think—” Mark’s phone buzzes in his pocket as he opens his mouth, the distinct pattern he set for emergencies, and he cuts off, exchanging a panicked glance with Renjun. “Um— I think, I think he’s doing. Yeah. He’s doing. I gotta— I gotta run, bathroom. I, uh, stomachache.” The other occupants of the table stare at him as he stands, snagging his backpack by the straps and hesitating for a moment. “Um, nice to meet you. I’ll see you… later.”
He vaguely hears Renjun telling them, “Yeah, he’s always like this. He just has a delicate stomach. Probably something he ate.” Jeno expresses his concern, but Mark can feel Donghyuck’s gaze follow him down the hall out of the building.
“They barely believed me,” Renjun informs him later, “and Professor Kim thinks you’re lying. But I drafted an email to them for you so you should be fine.”
“Thanks,” Mark mumbles, flat on his back on Renjun’s roof. “I’m so fucking tired, dude.”
“Maybe take a day off.”
“Can’t.”
“You can,” Renjun says pointedly. “You could just let the police handle things for a few days. They are fairly competent, usually. Enough to keep the city from burning for a weekend.”
They’ve had this argument before. Renjun is, at his core, more logical than Mark. But he loses every time, because the few times Mark has had to ignore calls for one reason or another have resulted in nothing but immense anxiety and panic.
Mark shrugs, and they go back inside. Renjun catches him up on the lessons he missed chasing a mutant rabbit around the city, and he almost falls asleep mid-swing on the way home.
“You look terrible.”
“Thanks,” Mark grumbles, almost asleep in his bowl of rice. It takes his brain an extra second to realize that it’s not Renjun who’s insulting him this time. He blearily looks up, and Donghyuck must see an invitation there because he plops his books down directly across from Mark and crunches into an apple. “You really like apples, huh?”
Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. Keeps the doctor away. You’re like, sleep-deprived or something.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Donghyuck reaches out and moves Mark’s hand from reaching directly into his bowl. “Did you forget how to use a spoon?”
“Spoon.” Mark blinks, and then jolts. “Spoon. Shit.”
Donghyuck laughs, leaning back. “I was just gonna come ask you about Spiderman again, but I think you could use a nap instead.”
“Can’t nap,” Mark mutters.
“Why not?”
“I have work after class today. In the library.”
“How are you gonna get any work done in the state you’re in? Do you have lectures all afternoon?” Donghyuck peers at him, taking another bite of his apple.
“No, but—”
“Let me show you my secret nap spot then.” Donghyuck stands, brushing invisible crumbs off his lap and offering a hand to Mark. “I don’t think you’re gonna finish your lunch in this state. Come on.”
“You’re an angel,” Mark says without thinking, brain-to-mouth filter completely gone. “My savior.”
Donghyuck glances at him, and maybe it’s Mark’s imagination but his cheeks are pink, gaze averted quickly. “Yeah, sure. Keep that in mind next time I go on another one of my rants about Spiderman.”
They leave the food hall, and Mark focuses on not tripping over his feet. In the quiet, he decides to ask, “Why do you hate Spiderman so much?”
They head towards the music rooms, and Donghyuck hums. “I don’t hate him.”
“You sound like you hate him. You have a Facebook group.”
“How do you know about my Facebook group?”
“Renjun.”
This seems to be an acceptable answer. Donghyuck shrugs. “I’m studying criminal psychology. I just think that Spiderman only exists because our city isn’t equipped to handle the kinds of emergencies they rely on him to. And I think he’s encouraging them by showing up at their beck and call. Something happens to someone? Just call Spiderman. Don’t bother solving your own problems. He’ll come help!” He peers into a room as they pass, grinning and pushing the door open. “Here. I’ll just pretend I’m using the room for vocal practice. You can nap in the bean bags in the corner.”
“Vocal practice?” Mark plops down in the pile of bean bags, and his eyes are already closing. Donghyuck smiles, softer than before, and shrugs his backpack off.
“I’m minoring in singing. Nap, dude, no one will bother you here.”
“Thanks,” Mark says, and he dozes off to the quiet sound of Donghyuck humming a song he vaguely recognizes.
He doesn’t mean for it to become a regular thing, ending up in the music rooms with Donghyuck, but he keeps finding himself there, and eventually Donghyuck wheedles the fact that he plays guitar out of him and demands that he bring it someday because “Youtube videos just don’t cut it anymore! I need live music, Mark, you gotta understand.”
He doesn’t, but he sure pretends to. Somewhere along the line, he started finding more comfort in Donghyuck’s voice and laughter than in the soft fabric of the bean bags. It sounds cheesy even to his own ears but it helps with the bruises and exhaustion more than he thought a person ever could. In the crazy world of an engineering degree and the double life of a superhero, Donghyuck’s rants about how much he disapproves of Spiderman are a reassuring constant.
Renjun pointedly mentions it every chance he gets, but Mark thinks he’s secretly grateful Mark has another friend. They have their weekly rooftop chats, and Renjun still helps him put bandaids on hard-to-reach places while berating him for working too hard.
Donghyuck asks him out in the middle of one of their jam sessions, cutting off singing suddenly to tell Mark he wants to go on a date, but that Mark has to pay. It’s not even really a question, just a statement, as if he’s announcing what his plans are for the weekend and it just happens to be a date with Mark. Not like he’d say no anyways.
They go on a date. And two, and three, and Mark summons the guts to formally ask Donghyuck to be his boyfriend. Everything is practically perfect.
Except, of course, that Mark is still living a double life as Spiderman. And that Donghyuck’s dislike of Spiderman seems to increase as days pass.
“You should have already told him,” Renjun tells him, right as always. “If it just keeps building, things will fall apart when it finally comes out. Because it will. I’m surprised he hasn’t already caught on. You’re not exactly subtle, leaving in the middle of date nights and covered in bruises.”
“I think he thinks I’m secretly an underground fighter,” Mark says, tracing the edge of a bruise on his wrist. “He says it’s cool but that he wants to come watch a match.”
Renjun lifts a perfect brow, unimpressed. “You have to tell him, and soon.”
“I know.” Mark groans, staring at the stars until they imprint on the backs of his eyelids. “I know.”
Donghyuck kisses him for the first time when it’s raining, huddled in an alcove by the engineering building because they both forgot to bring their umbrellas. Mark gently cups his cheeks, ignoring the way rain is dripping onto his shoulder in favor of kissing him again and again. The laughter that follows is enough to chase any clouds away. The bean bags in the music rooms make for perfect make-out sessions, Mark’s guitar shoved to the side and Donghyuck’s hair disheveled from Mark’s hands.
“Wait,” Mark says, a week later, holding Donghyuck’s wrist, keeping him from sliding teasing fingers any further up his shirt. “Hold on.” He’s hyper-aware of Donghyuck’s touch barely approaching a scar just below his ribcage. Donghyuck doesn’t think he’s an underground fighter anymore, but he does look at Mark in a quiet, worried way when he thinks he isn’t paying attention. He’s stopped asking questions and Mark doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. But he doesn’t know how Donghyuck will react once he sees the full scope of it, the many shades of purple and yellow.
Donghyuck withdraws, hands settling safely over the fabric of Mark’s shirt. “Is something wrong?”
“No— No, I just— I’m, um, not—”
“Not ready?” Donghyuck looks at Mark like he knows he’s lying. “Not interested?”
“Not comfortable,” Mark hurriedly settles on. “I have, um, a really ugly birthmark. On my… my stomach. I’ve had it forever.” Donghyuck just keeps looking for a moment, and then climbs off of his lap. Mark reaches for him. “I’m sorry—”
Donghyuck sighs and lets Mark take his hand but doesn’t come any closer. “No, you don’t.”
“I don’t…?”
“You don’t have a birthmark. I’ve seen your baby photos. I’ve seen pictures of you shirtless before, Mark. I’d know if you have something disgusting all over your stomach. Plus, I don’t care if you have a huge birthmark. I’m not that shallow.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Mark scrambles. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know it’s not what you meant. But what else am I supposed to think? You’re hiding something. You won’t tell me what it is and keep lying about it.” He sighs again, untangling their hands and rolling over. “It was fun to pretend, for a while, that you had some cool secret you were hiding, maybe like a secret agent or something, but we’ve been, as far as I think, at least, pretty serious for a while now. And if you just said you couldn’t tell me, I’d be frustrated. But you keep lying. I know you’re not lactose intolerant, so when you run off from dates or leave early I know it’s not because you’ve got a stomachache. I’ve seen your ice cream collection.”
“Donghyuck—”
“I like you a lot, Mark, but I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
“He knows I’m not lactose intolerant,” Mark mutters, staring into the carton of ice cream Renjun shoved into his hands immediately after Mark tripped into his apartment through the window, shivering.
“Donghyuck?”
“Yeah.”
“So he knows you’re lying.”
“Yeah.”
“And he broke up with you.”
“Not quite.” Mark shovels another spoonful into his mouth, mumbling around the cold. “He just told me I have to figure out what my priorities are. And that he didn’t want to hang out again until I’ve figured it out.”
“Well?” Renjun hands him a napkin.
“Well what?”
“Well,” Renjun says, and it sounds so simple, “what are your priorities?”
Mark swirls his spoon around in the melting ice cream. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like Donghyuck a lot, like, I really really like him, but—”
“It’s not selfish.” Mark snaps his mouth closed, eyes meeting Renjun’s. The other shrugs and continues, “It’s not. It’s not selfish, Mark, for you to put yourself over the needs of the entire city for once. I know you feel like it would be, because you think the fate of the city rests on your shoulders, but it doesn’t, Mark, and it shouldn’t.” He sighs, patting Mark’s leg. “And I’m sure you’ve been on the receiving end of Donghyuck’s lectures about Spiderman to know that being the only one responsible for the entire city is madness. It’ll destroy you.”
Mark frowns and shoves more ice cream into his mouth instead of answering. Renjun shrugs again. “It’s already taken so much from you, Mark. Don’t let this sense of responsibility take Donghyuck from you too.”
Getting injured is part of the job, but Mark can count on one hand the number of times he’s really feared for his life after the battle has already ended.
Trust fund kid was back, just as he had promised, with more guns and more cronies with knives. And the authorities were late, later than usual, which meant Mark had to fend him off for longer on his own.
He sinks to his knees on the rooftop, watching from afar as the police finally wrestle the man— boy, really, he’s just a kid— into a car. He hopes they don’t just send the kid to prison. Clearly it didn't help. The sirens go off and the cars all peel out of the construction site, reds and blues lighting up the panes of glass.
Logically, Mark knows he needs help. Logically, Mark also knows that if he were to show up at Renjun’s house in the state he's in, Renjun would absolutely cancel his date to help him. Emotionally, Mark can’t stand the idea of ruining a rare night of Renjun’s. He’s seen how happy Renjun is with Lucas and he just can’t bring himself to destroy the peace.
The thought floats to his mind, unbidden. Donghyuck. Before he can follow the idea anywhere he’s already going, slapping a wad of webbing over his abdomen and thigh, wincing where it comes in contact with bare, raw skin.
He’s barely able to remember the way to get to Donghyuck’s apartment, much less which floor he’s on and which direction his windows face.
It’s only been a few days, a week at most, since Donghyuck told him to make a decision about his priorities. Now, Mark thinks, clutching his mask in one hand and raising the other to knock weakly at his bedroom window, the choice seems easy. It occurs to him after he’s knocked a few times that Donghyuck might not even be home.
Donghyuck hesitantly steps into view, and Mark tries not to laugh at the sight of him holding a kitchen pan like a weapon. He waves, and Donghyuck shrieks.
Mark must be worse off than he thinks because Donghyuck immediately drops his pan at the sight of him, running over to the window and throwing it open. “Mark??? Is that you? What the hell—”
He must be worse off because Donghyuck barely touches him to help him through the window and it still feels like knives.
“Mark???” Donghyuck repeats from farther away, even though his face is much closer.
“Hyuck,” Mark manages. “I’m— I’m sorry.”
“What— Sorry?? For what— Mark, what should I— do we need, fuck— the hospital?”
“No,” Mark answers, throat thick. “No, I just need— some time, and— and a bandaid. Or two. No hospital.”
“A bandaid??? Mark!”
He comes too in clothes that aren’t his, lying on a bed that also isn’t his. It’s not Renjun’s either, so it takes a moment for things to settle in his memory.
“Donghyuck,” he gasps, sitting straight up. His head hits something, hard, and he falls back down, groaning.
“Fuck,” comes, muffled, from the thing he hit. That thing being Donghyuck’s forehead. “I knew you were hardheaded, but really, Mark?”
“Oh my god.” Mark sits up again, more carefully, and Donghyuck swats his hands away. “Oh my god, I’m so— I’m so sorry, Hyuck. Shit—”
“Don’t!” Mark freezes, watching Donghyuck rub at the red spot slowly blooming on his skin. “Don’t— There are a lot of things I need explained and maybe an apology, but this is the least of my worries. Save your breath.”
“Oh— okay,” Mark stammers, hands dropping down to his lap. “Um.”
Donghyuck sighs, sitting properly next to him on the bed. He stares down at something and Mark belatedly realizes he’s holding his Spiderman mask, turning it over in the light. “So.”
“I’m sorry, Donghyuck, I should have—”
“Are you okay?”
“What?”
“I asked if you’re okay. Do you have a concussion or something? Can you tell me what day it is?”
“I’m— I’m fine, I—”
Donghyuck chuckles weakly. “That’s good. Because you scared me shitless, Mark Lee, showing up at my window in red spandex and covered in blood. Not really the best way to learn that your boyfriend is Spiderman.”
“I’m still your boyfriend?”
Donghyuck throws Mark’s mask at him. “Idiot. Stay focused.”
“Sorry,” Mark mutters, catching the fabric and smoothing it out with his hands. “I’m okay. I heal really quickly. That’s why I said no hospital. It still hurts some, but it’ll be okay. Sorry for just showing up out of nowhere. Usually I—”
“Go to Renjun’s? He told me. I called him, in a panic, because, let me say again, you were bleeding out on my bedroom floor in half of a Spiderman outfit, with sticky shit all over your sides and legs. Which, when I finally got off you, uncovered a bunch of cuts and burns that started healing in minutes.” Mark blinks, just watching as Donghyuck gets more and more worked up, volume increasing. “And on top of all of it! You’re Spiderman! You’re the asshole I have dedicated a significant amount of time to disliking! I told you all about how much I don’t like… you!!! This is what you were hiding??? That you— you dress up in your fancy red costume and swing through the city, and all those bruises you had were because you were literally saving our lives? And I—”
Mark opts to lean in and kiss him instead of letting him continue. It certainly shuts Donghyuck up, and he hiccups for just a moment before throwing his hands up and pressing Mark back down into the bed without breaking the kiss.
“You have so much explaining to do,” Donghyuck manages between kisses, “don’t think that you’re getting away with this that easily.”
“Mmm.”
“Let me get this straight.”
“Or don’t.”
Donghyuck glares at him from where he’s pacing, lips red and hair mused. “Now is not the time for jokes.”
“Right.”
“You’re Spiderman.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me because?”
“Because I thought it would make you hate me,” Mark dutifully replies, repeating what he’s already told Donghyuck several times.
“Which, by the way, is impossible.” Donghyuck huffs, pointing at Mark. “And the reason you were so tired all the time and had all those bruises were because?”
“I was out fighting crime at night—”
“Like?”
Mark sighs, unbearably fond. “Like an idiot, as you said. And that’s the reason I ran out on you during dates, and why I didn’t want you to see me. I already told you this though—”
Donghyuck slaps his hands lightly on Mark’s face, squishing his cheeks and making Mark look up at him. “I know. I just need to make sure I’m understanding how silly you were being. I don’t hate Spiderman, and even if I did, I don’t hate you. So then I wouldn’t hate Spiderman anymore, because I’d be in love with him.” He softens, fingers resting on Mark’s cheekbones, brushing over a barely-healed scrape. “I never hated Spiderman. I just don’t approve of him. And now that I know, I disapprove even more if it means my boyfriend is out there throwing himself into trouble because the city can’t take care of its own problems. And now, I’m going to be even more selfish when it comes to you. No more skipping date nights, and I’m definitely going to sleep with you— quiet, no wait, not like that— because you aren’t taking care of yourself. So I will.”
“I can’t just—”
“You can,” Donghyuck interrupts, settling on Mark’s lap, careful of where his thighs are still sore. “And will, if you want to stay with me. For small shit, at least. If it’s, I don’t know, crazy aliens from space or homicidal mutants or something, I won’t stop you. But for things like petty theft? And the occasional manslaughter? You can’t take on all of it. I won’t let you.”
“Demanding,” Mark says, the only thing he can find behind the lump in his throat. “You’re bossy.”
Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Sure, look at it that way.” He kisses Mark’s temple, and then his cheeks and down to his lips. “I’d rather just look at it like I’m trying to protect someone I care about, which makes us pretty similar, I think.”
Mark blinks. “I don’t agree—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a more forceful kiss, pushing his protests away. They wrestle for a moment before Mark finally manages to get some space and says, “I love you too, by the way.”
“What?”
“You said you wouldn’t hate Spiderman because you love him,” Mark answers, delighting in the way Donghyuck’s cheeks burn almost as red as the fabric of his suit. “And I, as Mark Lee and as Spiderman, love you too.”
“Cheesy,” Donghyuck grumbles, but the smile on his face gives him away, as well as the gentle curve of his eyes. “Gross. Now get over here. We have things to catch up on.”
“Donghyuck, hold on—!”
🕷END🕷