Chapter Text
The night was restless, the rain relentless as thunder cracked through the sky. You laid cocooned in your blankets, scrolling mindlessly through the internet. It had been a long shift at the hospital—one of the worst in a while. A fight had broken out between two arch-nemeses, and the collateral damage had been catastrophic. The ER had overflowed with injured civilians, most wounded by debris.
But that wasn’t what had made the headlines.
A child had been caught in the chaos, hit by a flying brick. News outlets were ablaze with outrage. Curious, you clicked on one of the videos. The comment section was a battlefield, people arguing whether heroism had crossed into reckless violence.
"Folks! A building has just been blown up!" a frantic reporter yelled, his voice trembling through the mic. "Wait—hold on, that's a hero! She's fighting someone on the roof!"
The shaky footage captured glimpses of the fight. Your heart clenched when you saw her—Vi—brawling on the crumbling rooftop. The camera barely kept up as she took hit after hit.
You shut your laptop with a sigh, irritation bubbling at the way reporters loved to dissect and dramatize. You knew she’d won, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how she must’ve felt. She couldn’t save everyone. That guilt had to be eating her alive.
A loud crack split through the sky, and suddenly, the power cut out.
You groaned, dragging yourself out of bed to find the flashlight you’d left in the kitchen. That was the third outage this week, and you were sick of stumbling through the dark every time it rained.
As you reached for the drawer, a loud thud echoed above you. You froze. Probably just the wind rattling something loose, you thought. Then, a realization sent a chill up your spine.
You had left your balcony door unlocked.
The air in the apartment shifted, a presence lurking just beyond your sight. Your pulse hammered as you clicked on the flashlight, your grip tightening around the handle. You took a deep breath and forced your legs forward.
As you reached the balcony, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, painting the world in a fleeting, eerie glow, and that was when you saw them—a hooded figure, hunched over, arms tense at their sides, and fists clenched.
Your breath hitched.
You gripped the glass door, hesitating. The rational thing would be to run, to call someone, to do something, but your body had other plans. Slowly, you slid the door open.
The figure turned.
Sharp, stormy gray eyes locked onto yours. Even in the dim light, you could make out the scowl tightening their face. Your flashlight slipped from my grip, clattering onto the floor.
"Who the hell are you?"
The voice was low, rough, and most importantly familiar.
You swallowed hard and gave her your name.
Adrenaline begged you to run, but you couldn’t move. Another flash of lightning struck, and suddenly, you could see her. The same hero from the rooftop. The one you’d spent hours watching online.
Vi.
Rain clung to her short red hair, her breath visible in the frigid air. Battle scars cut across her exposed skin, illuminated briefly by the storm.
"Why are you here?" she growled.
"I... live here?" You blinked.
She sighed, rolling her eyes, exhaustion bleeding into her expression. "Do you… want me to leave?"
"No! I mean—no. You’re my favorite hero," you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The words sounded way less obsessive in your head.
Vi’s brow arched, but she didn’t comment on it. The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease ever so slightly.
"Oh. Uh—where are my manners? It’s raining, come in," you offered, stepping aside.
As soon as she entered, the power flickered back on, casting a warm glow over the apartment. It wasn’t anything fancy—cream-colored walls, framed photos of your family, books and paperwork cluttering the coffee table. But Vi didn’t seem to care. She dropped onto one of the barstools, resting her head on the kitchen island.
That’s when you noticed the deep slash across her stomach.
"Vi, what the fuck," you stammered, nearly tripping over yourself as you ran to grab your medical kit.
"It’s not that bad," she muttered, biting her cheek.
"You do realize you’re bleeding all over my floor, right?" You shot her a look.
She sighed, knowing you weren’t going to drop it. Resigned, she let you tend to the wound.
An hour later, the gash was stitched shut, the scent of antiseptic heavy in the air. Vi’s eyelids drooped as she slumped against the counter.
"How do you know all this?" she murmured.
"I’m a doctor. I do this a lot." You tied off the last bandage.
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment before snapping open again when you spoke.
"You can crash on my couch. I have extra blankets," you offered, nodding toward the storage closet.
She didn’t argue. By the time you came back from brushing your teeth, she was buried under three blankets, snoring softly.
You chuckled, shaking your head. It was way too hot for all that.
"Goodnight, ma’am," you teased.
"Goodnight, Cupcake." A tired smirk curled at her lips.
You frowned. "Why’d you call me that?"
"Because you’re sweet. Like a cupcake," she mumbled sleepily.
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all.
—
Sunlight poured through your blinds, pulling you from sleep. Your alarm buzzed softly, and Whiskers stretched at the foot of your bed.
As you got up, the events of last night came rushing back. The storm. The fight. Her.
You poked your head out of your room, rubbing your eyes. Vi was still on the couch, fast asleep, looking… peaceful.
You smiled to yourself and got to work making breakfast—bacon, eggs, pancakes. You didn’t want to leave without saying anything, so you packed some food for her and scribbled a note before heading out.
Vi woke up under what felt like a mountain of blankets, momentarily disoriented. The apartment was quiet, and her injuries bandaged.
That girl.
She glanced at the coffee table, spotting an envelope with her name written on it in neat handwriting. Next to it, a container of food.
She picked up the letter, tearing it open.
Hey! I figured you might be hungry since this is kinda an “ingredient-only” household. I patched you up last night—you were pretty beat up. I had to leave for work, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to stay. Try not to move too much, your bandages can and will come undone. Also, could you feed my cat, Whiskers? I didn’t have time, so if it’s not too much trouble… Feel free to shower or grab some fresh clothes—my brother’s stuff is in the lower-left drawer in my room. Sorry in advance if it’s all just graphic hoodies and baggy jeans. He thinks he’s cool. (He’s not.) It was nice meeting you, Vi. Take care. —Love, Y/N. Or as you would say, "Cupcake."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
Maybe there were still good people in the world after all.