Archive of Our Own ^beta

His world ends on a boring day in March, twenty-four years old, sat on a plastic chair in Jihoon’s glass-walled office.

“The Hero 1 Division is being dismissed.”

Chan pauses, mid-sentence, helmet in hands. He’d come to the office morphed into his suit, determined to show the higher-ups how ready he is to fight, to defend Seoul with everything he has. They’ve had a sudden drop in calls these last few weeks—he’d thought one meeting with Jihoon would fix that, would make them see that his team is itching to get out there again. There’s always a good fight to fight, whether they’re being called to it or not.

He hadn’t expected this.

“Dismissed? What do you mean?”

Jihoon sighs, taking off his glasses and placing them on his desk. He clasps his hands together, looking at Chan. “I mean that program has been questioned for some time now. Your performance has been sorely lacking over the last few months, with Pink and Yellow on a health break for so long. You know your team isn’t as strong unless you’re all together. That’s how the Going Rangers were designed, and always meant to be.”

He sits forwards in his chair. “Is this because we couldn’t corner that hunger monster two weeks ago? We chased him off, didn’t we? He hasn’t been back! Even without Pink and Yellow, our team can still do good for people! They just need time to get back on their feet again!”

Jihoon’s thumbs press into each other. “I don’t think so, Red. I agree with the Division. It’s time for Hero 1 to retire.”

He feels as though his heart was just ripped out of his chest. Is this really how it’s going to happen? No discussion, no help, no warning—not even a goodbye party. All his work—just over.

“And what about Seoul? It will still need help. It still needs the Rangers, you know that.”

“We have some new trainees in,” Jihoon says, as if it isn’t another fatal punch to the chest for Chan. “In a few weeks, they’ll be announced as the new Going Rangers. It’s time for new bodies to bear the weight of what you’ve been through, Red. You and your team can’t do this forever.”

“Says who?” he says, jutting his chin out. “What do they have that we don’t?”

Jihoon regards him soberly. “I’m sorry, Chan. This goes higher than me. You’ve got until the end of the month to move out of the apartment.”

“And do what?” he asks, clutching his helmet he’d spent so long cleaning before coming, no doubt leaving fingerprints all over the visor. “Go where?”

“Anywhere,” Jihoon says simply. “You can do whatever you want with your life, now. Isn’t that exciting?”

He stands, back straight, to attention, looking down on Jihoon. “I want to do this. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“It had to end sometime,” Jihoon says. His voice is level, but he looks at Chan with a measure of regret. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, Red. You’ve been a good leader, and done a great service to this country.”

“What do I tell my team?”

Jihoon gestures out with his hands. “Just what I’ve told you. It’s not their fault, or yours. It was inevitable. Oh—and your powers will start to decline over the next week or so. You might’ve seen a decline already—as the government pulls funding, your power stone implants won’t enhance your body any longer. You’ll have your regular body back within a fortnight.”

He drops his helmet on his seat. “Anything else you’re taking from us?”

Jihoon looks away from him. “You’ll have a gratitude payment put in your accounts, but it won’t hold you for long. I’d recommend you apply for new work as soon as you have new housing arrangements sorted.”

“Understood,” he says, throat feeling tight. “Will I see you again?”

Jihoon eyes him. “I don’t think so, Red. It’s better for you if you don’t.”

Chan salutes him, pressing his lips together. “In that case, thank you for putting my team together. It’s been the pride of my life.”

Jihoon gives him a bow of respect in return. “It’s been my pride, too. I’ll never forget your passion. You and the whole team, Chan.”

He nods, then turns on his heel, and leaves Jihoon’s office empty-handed.

-

He’s de-morphed from his suit by the time he’s down the corridor. He doesn’t have the heart to keep it up, not knowing who might walk by him in these corridors knowing his team has been disbanded. He’d worn it with pride all the way from the apartment to Jihoon’s office.

Now, he feels flushed with embarrassment at the thought. The last hurrah of the Red Going Ranger—and it was a pathetic headquarters visit where he’d been forcibly retired.

He opens up his watch and switches on the alert call, which summons his whole team to the apartment, deliberately overriding the sick leave status for Pink and Yellow.

When their team started out, they just had the one call—the alarm installed into the apartment that would go off whenever they were in need. The watches were only used for information gathering. Over time, as they’d grown and become less confined to the apartment, they’d needed to install a second alert to bring them all together in the first place.

He’s not sure how long it’s been since they’d stopped waiting on the Division’s every beck and call. Maybe that was the start of the end.

By the time he gets back home, Joshua and Minghao have already arrived, with Seungcheol a few minutes out. Chan feels a painful mix of pride and regret at seeing Minghao ready for action, half-morphed into his suit under the sling that supports his injured collarbone.

“Chan?” Joshua asks when he enters. “What’s going on?”

It’s a good question. The last time he’d had to call them all together was when Minghao had announced his 15-week sick leave. Despite Wonwoo, Seokmin and Chan himself being the only ones really living in the apartment now, he trusts them all to come when they’re called. But those times have been getting few and far between.

Now, this might be the last.

“It’s not an emergency,” he says, kicking off his shoes. “Well. Nothing urgent. But I have bad news, and I wanted to tell you all as soon as I could.”

“What is it?” a voice says behind him, as Seungcheol steps in through the open door and closes it behind him. “What, are they finally letting us go?”

“I—“ he stops, looking at Seungcheol. “Yes, that’s exactly what they’re doing.”

Seungcheol slows, putting his hand against a wall to support himself. “Really?”

“Yes,” he says, turning in place to look around the room at the others.

“We’ve been fired?” Seokmin asks, voice small.

“Not fired. We’re being retired from the Going Rangers. They’re bringing in a new team to replace us.”

He looks around at their faces, ready to be met by the same devastation he feels, a sense of ruin that roots him to the ground, dragging him to sit heavily in their armchair.

Instead, what he’s met with is… surprise from Seokmin. Understanding from Minghao. Seungcheol and Joshua are exchanging something that looks like… relief? Wonwoo, as ever, is unreadable and silent. He’s the only one looking back at Chan.

“I know it’s a shock, and a disappointment,” he says, clearing his throat and sitting forward. “Jihoon was final about it. But I want you all to know—it doesn’t mean we have to stop helping people. It doesn’t mean we can stop being a team.”

“Our powers? We’ll get to keep them?” Minghao asks, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. Jihoon said that our power stone implants will power down until they’re useless. But that doesn’t make us powerless, alright? We can still do good without them.”

“Not nearly as much as the new team can do,” Seungcheol says, and Chan looks over at him, as does everyone else. “What? I’m just telling the truth. Chan, I’m sorry, but the Division is right. We haven’t been paid or even called upon in weeks. We’re all either out of energy or out of passion, aside from you. They’re doing us a kindness by letting us retire.”

“A kindness?” he repeats, feeling a kind of numbness at his fingertips. He’s under no illusions—his team have been down on their luck lately. But they’ve been through hardships before, and come out the other side. They’ve always worked through it together. He’d had every faith they could do it again this time.

“Maybe you should go to the Division and see if you can join the new team alone,” Joshua says. “You’re good enough, Chan. But we’re exhausted. I’ve been missing my passion for months, and I don’t think it’s coming back.” He shrugs, leaning back into the sofa. “Maybe I’m burnt out. Maybe I’m just too old for this. But I can’t sleep properly, can’t focus anymore—I’m ready to go. I agree with Cheol.”

He clasps his hands together, willing himself not to lose his composure. “And you guys?” he says, turning to look at Wonwoo, Seokmin, and Minghao, perched in various spots around the room.

“We were already out,” Seokmin says, looking at Minghao. “I’ve been unwell for weeks, I don’t know when I’ll be getting on my feet again. And Minghao’s collarbone may never be the same.”

Minghao nods. “We should’ve caught on when I didn’t heal within the week, like usual. And when your fireballs wouldn’t grow like usual, Chan. The Division has already decided this long ago, and I think it’s best for our health if we go along with it. At least we all reached retirement together, in one piece. Not all teams get that.”

He looks at Wonwoo, unable to get the words out.

Thankfully, Wonwoo knows what he’s asking. “This has been some time coming,” he agrees. “But it doesn’t mean this is the end. Not after all we’ve done together.”

The rest of the team chime in, agreeing that of course they won’t lose touch, won’t fall out. Will always be the Going Rangers dream team at heart.

It isn’t what Chan wants to hear. But it’s what he swallows down, nodding with them as he holds back an ugly sort of anger they don’t deserve. When the five of them agree to go out for a meal, he excuses himself as needing rest, despite it only being lunchtime. Thankfully, they let him go and deal with his grief alone, and Chan crawls into bed for the rest of the day.

-

He stays in bed until lunchtime the next day, when Wonwoo comes knocking.

“I brought kimbap,” he says at the doorway, and Chan forces himself to sit up in bed, pulling himself from a depressing spiral of thoughts. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“No,” he admits with a sniff. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the restaurant for letting me order more food to take away after we ate so much.”

“Thank you for thinking of me,” he corrects, starting on the kimbap. He doesn’t realise how hungry he is until he starts eating, and Wonwoo sits with him, cross-legged on the end of his bed.

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly. “How are you feeling today?”

He only shakes his head. “It seems like I’m the only one who didn’t see this coming. I feel like a failure.”

“You’re not,” Wonwoo says, sturdy, sure. “You’re so far from a failure, Chan. You’re optimistic until the end, and full of passion for your work, and you’ve always loved what you do. That’s why you didn’t see it coming. Those aren’t bad things, and they’re the opposite of failure.” He pauses, sighs. “But I’m sorry this is hurting you now. You’ve always been too good for this job.”

“No. I clearly haven’t been good enough. Even if I never failed my work, I failed all of you by letting it end like this.”

“It’s not you who’s failed us. It’s you who kept us going for so many years, kept us together and kept us alive. Like Minghao said, not many teams get to celebrate being together and all alive when they reach retirement. You can’t help that the rest of us have burned out—you did everything you could to keep us going.”

“But I didn’t even realise. I knew we were in a bad way—anyone could see that. But I never considered that we wouldn’t get back up again. That we wouldn’t be able to pull the team together when it mattered.”

“We have. We still can. But not for hero work. The others are too unwell for that.”

“And you? You’re still here.”

When he looks up, Wonwoo is giving him these big eyes, a look he can’t decipher. “I’m still here because of you,” he says. “Like I said, you’ve always been a good leader.”

“Maybe. But now I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not a leader, not a hero. This is all I’ve ever been, you know? Now that’s fallen apart, I don’t know where to begin rebuilding myself. I don’t know what I am anymore.”

“You can be anything you set your mind to. There are other ways to help people that don’t involve punching monsters downtown every other week.”

“We can’t even live here, you know. We have to clear out by the end of the month, Jihoon said.”

Wonwoo nods. “I figured. We live here as part of our contract. Aren’t you excited that you’ll finally be able to choose your own place?”

“I can’t live alone, no way. I’ll be a disaster.”

“We can move out together. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

He flashes a grateful half-smile at him. For all it feels as if this is the end of his life, it’s a comfort to know his team aren’t planning on leaving him. Even without their work binding them together, they still care enough to stick by his side.

“We’ll only eat takeaway food for the rest of our lives if the two of us live together.”

“That’s not so bad,” Wonwoo says, with a little smile of his own. “It’s not like Joshua or Minghao cook for us anymore, anyway.”

“Right,” he says, smile fading. “Yeah.”

Wonwoo gestures his head to the door. “Want to come and watch a movie? We can look at apartments tomorrow. Maybe even job applications. But you should rest for today.”

He exhales a long breath. With the kimbap finished, he’s feeling slightly more energised, and it’s probably best he doesn’t shut himself away for the rest of the day. “Alright. But no more work talk. I need to think about something else.”

“You got it,” Wonwoo says, standing from the bed, and Chan comes with him.

-

Wonwoo sits him down and makes him apply to new work two days later. They go through processes for the police, the fire department, social work, teaching, and security work. It quickly becomes apparent that he’s only qualified for the security job, and just barely. Everything else will take several years of study to catch up on before he can even think about applying.

He’d dropped out of school at sixteen to train and debut as the leader of the Going Rangers. He knows enough about the world, but he’d never been academically minded. Being out on the field is what he loves and what he knows, but the Division didn’t give him qualifications or awards. Just his skills, and his experiences. None of which is all that helpful without the paper to back them up.

Wonwoo seems put out, too. As much as he might be three years older than Chan, and not a high school dropout, he doesn’t know that much more about the world. They’ve both been insulated into the Rangers lifestyle since they were young, for nearly ten years now.

So he changes track from job hunting to apartment hunting, dragging Chan around a viewing he’s trying not to appear too pessimistic about. But it’s hard to envision the little apartment as home. It’s hard to imagine giving up the home he’s always known to live in a little apartment for two in a faceless Seoul high-rise.

One week after meeting Jihoon in his office, Chan spots them on the news: the new Rangers are being debuted, faces splashed across the news. The new suits seem to be more of a talking point than anything. The fact that Chan and his team have been retired is a mere afterthought.

It’s another hit to his pride, he can’t deny it. He’d never been under the impression they were celebrities, but he’d like to hope the people of Seoul knew and loved their Rangers for all they’d done. That they wouldn’t drop them without hesitation, let them fade into obscurity.

Maybe this is something else he’s been blind to for too long. Wonwoo switches off the television, and Chan blinks out of his thoughts.

They go to bed not long later. The night following is long and restless.

-

He tries out volunteering, again at Wonwoo’s suggestion. He’s working for a homeless charity within the week, and this—this he can do. He’s never been bad at holding a conversation with those who want it, never hesitant to get aid to those who need it, and knowing he’s making a difference makes him feel a little bit alive again.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get two days into his new role before he’s back to his old ways. If the best way he knows how to help others is by knocking out monsters, what’s so bad about that? Homeless people need saving from huge hunger monsters more than anyone.

It’s the same monster they’d fought only weeks ago, when it had melted into nothing, untraceable and—he’d thought—banished forever. It’s the same height as a three-storey building, as wide as two cars, and dripping neon yellow goo, like it’s come straight from a toxic waste site. Based on his experiences with this sort of thing, he’d bet that’s exactly where it’s come from.

His first instinct, upon seeing the people running and the monster towering up just a few streets away, is to open up his watch and call for aid. But their comms have been switched off by the Division along with their power stones—if he tries to morph, he can manage a little bit of armour around his chest, but nothing more than that.

It will have to be enough, he thinks, charging over to the next street without hesitation. He has nothing—not his team, not his power, not his suit. But he can’t let innocent people get hurt.

Last time, fire had done very little against this thing. Wonwoo’s power, night, had done even less, and Seungcheol with water had seen absolutely no impact. Joshua’s wind power had done the most work, powerful enough to knock the monster over, where it had melted into sludge and disappeared away. All Chan needs to do is recreate that, but without Joshua’s help—create enough force to melt its huge mass away.

By the time he rounds into the main square, people are crashing into him in their haste to get away from the shopping square, where the monster looms over buildings, trying to bite into billboards. Like before, it only seems to say one thing:

“Hungry! Hungry! HUNGRY!”

“Hungry for what?” he shouts up at it, as the monster looms down on where a small child is standing, petrified, in a shop doorway. “Hey! Down here! You hungry for this?”

He holds both hands out in front of him, palms forward, mustering up all his strength and hoping for the best.

A single curl of fire appears from his hands before disappearing.

“Oh, shit,” he says, as the monster above groans with a noise akin to laughter. It swipes one huge goo-strand down in his direction, and Chan braces himself against it—only to go flying when he’s hit, skidding far enough to slam into a nearby car, setting the alarm off and putting a sizable dent into the door with his face.

Right, he’s not strong either, anymore. Not so durable. All his training was done with his powers—it’s going to take some time to adjust to being without them.

He struggles to stand again, pain shooting through his arm, his vision blurred and ears ringing. The huge, gooey mass is still standing over him, moving around slowly, but with enough power to take apart buildings.

“Pink! Get in there and get her out of the way!” a voice calls, and the yellow goo overhead pauses along with Chan.

As he blinks his vision back into place, he sees what looks like Minghao in his pink morph suit running across the square to the child. But he looks… taller? Broader? With no sling?

“Hey!” the same voice says, closer to Chan now, and he looks up to see… himself?

No—he shakes his head. The Red Ranger is running towards him—and that’s not him anymore.

“C’mon, you have to get out of the way,” Red says, visor snapping back so Chan can see his face. He’s probably no older than Chan himself, handsome, with sweet, rounded cheeks. He looks too innocent to be a team leader, but that’s what people used to say about him. Chan can tell he’s got the gusto for it.

“I can help,” Chan says, pushing himself to his feet as pain spikes down his back.

“You—” Red stops, looking him up and down. “Oh, you’re the old Red, aren’t you?”

“Red!” another ranger shouts—looks like Blue, standing over at the base of a wrecked building, ready for action. “What do we do?”

“You have to use White,” Chan shouts back. “That’s what worked before,” he says to Red, who is now clutching Chan’s good arm and trying to drag him away from the fight. Chan shakes him off. “Let me be, I can take care of myself. Before, Black, Blue and I had no effect on this thing. Using wind to knock it over is the best method.”

Red stands in front of him, blocking his vision of the monster so Chan has to look him in the face. “No offence, but your group was a shambles when you tried to take this thing on before,” he says. “We have a full Ranger team now. We can more than handle this. Don’t throw yourself into the line of fire again—you just make yourself and us look incompetent.”

He turns on his heel and stalks away, morphing his visor back over his face. “Yellow, we need you! As much light as you can on this guy—I’m talking melting him from the top down!”

“That’s not going to work!” Chan shouts, stalking after Red. They didn’t have Yellow or Pink on the field the last time they fought this thing, but he tried with his own fire—heat isn’t enough to do damage, certainly not heat as weak as sunlight. He’s sure Pink’s illusions won’t make an impact, either. White is their only option.

“Leave it!” Red tells him, pushing him back. He stumbles on unsteady feet. “You haven’t even noticed that rain clouds follow this thing everywhere it goes. Obviously natural light is a weakness, and we can bring that out. White! Clear the skies!”

Chan can’t even see the Yellow and White Rangers from where he is, but he feels the wind pick up straight away—the new Rangers really do have strong control over their powers. The clouds overhead begin to part, and sunlight comes streaming through within seconds.

The hunger monster, being led around by the Blue Ranger as a distraction, comes to a halt when the first rays of bright sunlight hit it directly. It gives out another grumbling, unhappy groan as it does so, and as Chan watches, it begins to melt away from the top down, shrinking and swatting at the sky as if it can bring the clouds back again.

But as the clouds part further, the monster can’t move quickly enough to escape. It shrinks and shrinks, and as it gets smaller, goo melting away, it becomes obvious that there’s a human under all that, swaying and lumbering about.

“Go!” Red shouts at him, before running off to where the creature is being reduced back to a man.

Chan, never one to take orders, runs after him. The rest of the new Ranger team are gathering in around the man now, and taking a look at each of them nearly distracts him from what is revealed under all the goo.

“Seokmin?”

Division vans swerve into the square, people in hazmat suits hopping out of the back and surrounding them.

“Wait, wait, guys! It’s Yellow!” he says, putting his hands on Seokmin’s arms as he comes down to his knees, clearly exhausted, face lifted to the sunlight circling him. “Seokmin, are you alright? What happened to you?”

“We need to take him,” a Division hazmat suit tells him, prying Chan’s hands from a barely-conscious Seokmin.

“What?” he says, and Red grabs him, pulls him away even as Chan fights against it. “He’s—he’s done nothing wrong! He’s a Ranger—he needs help!”

“They will help him,” Red says. “Let it be. You worked for these people, don’t you trust them?”

“But—” Even as he watches, they load Seokmin into a van with haste. There’s nothing he can do to pull away from Red’s grip, never mind help Seokmin. Had he really been this strong in his prime, too?

“Look, I appreciate that you were trying to help,” Red says, visor flipped back again. “But we’re the new Rangers now. You can’t come running in whenever there’s a problem. Leave it up to us to solve, okay?”

He shakes off Red without another word. He’s right, and Chan knows it—but he’s not ready to accept it yet.

“Will you tell me when you’ve fixed him?” he asks the Division guard hopping back into the van. He slams the door shut without answering Chan.

The difference between when he was Red, respected by the Division, respected by the city, and how he’s overlooked now, as Chan, is crazy. He can’t get his head around it. What difference did it make if he were a little stronger before? If he had some fancy armour? Is he still not the same fighter underneath? Has everyone forgotten all those things he did to help people for the last eight years?

“Let’s get you home,” Red says, and Chan turns to face him.

“I can get home just fine on my own, thanks,” he says, and wipes his mouth with his hand. It’s suspiciously wet—he sees now it’s from blood. “Good job, out there. You’re a good leader.”

Red seems taken aback by the compliment, leaving him enough of a chance to walk away from the Rangers unaccompanied.

-

He arrives back at the apartment in a daze, bloody nose throbbing, arm smarting, clothes dirty and wet with blood. Wonwoo is sitting on the couch in their apartment, but as soon as he spots Chan, he’s up on his feet.

“What happened to you? What did you do, Chan?”

“Ran into a fight I couldn’t win,” he says, kicking off his shoes and moving over to the kitchen. His mouth tastes of blood, and he cups his hands to drink some water from the tap and spit it out again.

“Sit down,” Wonwoo says, firmly.

Wonwoo rarely sounds firm about anything, so Chan complies, running one hand through his hair and sitting on their sofa.

Wonwoo potters about for a minute, saying nothing, and when he comes back he has a wet cloth in one hand and their first aid kid in the other. The kit hasn’t been used in years—with their powers, they’d been able to heal fast enough not to need it. Seeing it now is just another sign of his weakness, his decline from something into nothing.

“Face up,” Wonwoo says, and Chan meets eyes with Wonwoo, who begins to dab carefully at the blood on his face, leaving gentle water tracks behind.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Wonwoo frowns at him, focusing on the cloth. “What for?”

Chan smiles wryly. “You’ve been doing your best to help me be normal, but I can’t help myself. I don’t know how to let all this go.”

“You’ve just got to get used to it,” Wonwoo says evenly. “No one expects you to be a different person overnight. There’s a reason you were chosen as the Red Ranger, and it’s because you’ve never given up on anything, ever.”

“Maybe,” he says, noncommittal. “But only because you were my team, and I never had the option of letting you down. Now I’m letting you all down with this. You’re way ahead of me on the track to acceptance.”

“We were ready to go, Chan,” Wonwoo says, leaning back and putting the cloth aside. “It’s okay if you aren’t.”

Chan watches him go into the first aid kit, picking out the alcohol wipes. “Why did you stick with it for so long if you didn’t want to? Why did nobody tell me they wanted out?”

“No one likes to disappoint you,” Wonwoo says with a little smile, lightly rubbing over the sensitive part of Chan’s nose with the alcohol wipe. “I think everyone stayed strong and stayed by your side for the same reason as me. Because it’s you. And you’re hard to let down, impossible to abandon. Your drive kept us together, Chan, even while Minghao and Seokmin were injured.”

“Seokmin!” Chan gasps, standing up in one movement. “Wonwoo—I didn’t say—do you remember the hunger monster we fought? The last thing we did as a team?”

“Of course,” Wonwoo frowns. “What about it?”

“That’s what I ran into a fight with today. The new Rangers showed up, managed to take him down with sunlight. And guess who was under all that goo?”

“Who?”

“Seokmin, Wonwoo. Seokmin is the hunger monster.”

Wonwoo stands too, frown deepening. “What? How?”

“That’s what I’m wondering too. The Division came and took him away, wouldn’t even let me talk to him. Something is seriously wrong.”

“Then let’s call Jihoon and ask,” Wonwoo says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “If Seokmin is with the Division, he’ll know—”

“Don’t,” Chan says, putting a hand over Wonwoo’s. “I don’t think Jihoon will help us anymore. Let’s do this ourselves.”

Wonwoo lets Chan lower his hand, but he looks skeptical. “We’ve followed you for years, Chan. And I’m still here because I believe in you. But we’ve been retired. This isn’t our job anymore. If there’s a problem, the Division and the new Rangers will be able to help him.”

“What if it’s not as simple as that? Don’t the Division seem all too happy to brush us under the rug now that we’re being taken off the scene? We only have each other to rely on, Hyung. We’re still a team. Shouldn’t we at least go and see if Seokmin is alright?”

Wonwoo seems hesitant, but Chan can tell there’s a spark in his eyes at the thought of one last mission. He deserves this—his team deserves this, one last hurrah. And even if the rest of his team is gone, he still has Wonwoo.

“I’ll do it for you,” Wonwoo says, surprisingly tender.

“For me?”

“Hasn’t it always been for you?” Wonwoo says, an inflection to his voice Chan can’t quite place.

He smiles, patting Wonwoo on the arm. “You’re the best teammate a guy could ask for, you know that?”

As he stands, Wonwoo makes a noise like a sigh, but when Chan looks back, he looks determined.

“Alright,” he says. “Tell me what we need to do, Red.”

-

Stealth missions weren’t frequently on their radar—over the years, as more things fell from the sky or came from the sea or crawled out of the sewers, their attention was much more focused on the number of things they could punch. But they’d still done stealth training, and they’d still lived at the Division building without parental supervision for years. They knew all the best ways at sneaking out unnoticed back then, and things aren’t so different now.

The basement window, where the trainee gym is held, is still in the same place as it was ten years ago. They’ve refitted the place out, and the window actually has a lock now, but it’s still left ajar. He remembers well how sweaty that room would get. It’s easy to slip into the building late that night, when the hallways are quiet and the rooms empty, and no alarm goes off as they come out of the gym and begin to work their way up to the lab rooms.

They’d argued earlier over whether Seokmin was more likely to be in the guest bedrooms, the medical centre, or the labs. Chan had won out with the labs, because his gut rarely lies, and he’s got a bad feeling about all of this. As much as he’d like Seokmin to be in one of the other two locations, time is of the essence, and he wants to see Seokmin as quickly as possible.

It takes some staking out of the laboratory door to actually get inside, waiting in the shadows for one worker to leave so that they can creep in behind her. Thankfully the lab isn’t busy, with four or five other lab assistants milling about in the central room—though still more than he’d expected for such a late time of night.

He ducks behind two of the large cabinets along one side of the room, and Wonwoo does the same with him, the two of them tuning into the conversation of the lab assistants.

Only the man closest to the door had noticed the strange delay of the door closing, and when he turns around to see what the hold-up is about, Chan sees it’s none other than Jihoon standing there, clipboard in hand. Beyond him, in the transparent containment unit usually reserved for strange monsters and villains with uncontainable powers, is Seokmin, sat up on the cot in there. He looks worn out, but conscious, aware. Better than Chan had seen him earlier today.

Chan doesn’t like it. Why put Seokmin in there? Jihoon knows he’s never wanted to harm anyone.

“Alright, let’s clear out the lab,” Jihoon says suddenly, turning back around to address the other scientists huddled around a screen.

“But Sir—” one woman starts, and Jihoon holds up his hand.

“Seriously, go home. It’s late. I’ll take care of him.”

There are no further complaints after that, only the sound of the other scientists bidding Jihoon goodnight.

After they’ve each left the lab and the room has gone quiet, Seokmin asks, “Why did you do that?”

“Because you have visitors,” Jihoon says. “Chan, Wonwoo. Come out.”

Chan jolts at the sound of his name, then stands, the ruse clearly up. “You have good eyesight.”

“You weren’t doing a great job of hiding,” Jihoon sighs. “Well, here he is. He’s alright.”

“Hey guys!” Seokmin says, smile bright as he and Wonwoo approach the containment unit. “You came to see me?”

“Of course,” Wonwoo says. “You okay?”

“I’m alright!”

Chan turns to Jihoon. “If he’s fine, why is he in there?”

Jihoon sighs, taking off his rounded glasses and rubbing his forehead as if he’s thirty years older than he is. “Because he’s fine for now. The monster will come back. I’m trying to figure out a way to stop it.”

“Why is it happening?” Wonwoo asks. “Is it something to do with his power stone?”

Chan looks around at Wonwoo. “What?”

“How did you work that out?” Seokmin asks, confirming Chan’s fear.

“Chan said it took sunlight to get you back,” Wonwoo replies. “Your power stone’s core ability. Ironic, isn’t it? Seems like the problem lies there.”

“You’re exactly right,” Jihoon says. “The power stones are the problem.”

“How?” Chan asks, fear constricting his chest. Each member of his team has a power stone implanted into their chest. Could there be something wrong with all of them?

“The power stones… they’re temperamental technology. Experimental at best. If I’d known back at your debut just how unstable they are, I would’ve fought against them putting that sort of volatile material inside you. But I was just a student then, too.”

“Is this why we’ve been retired?” Chan says, gesturing to Seokmin. “Is this going to happen to each of us?”

“Potentially,” Jihoon says, gravely. “When you fought Seokmin on your last Rangers mission, we had a sample of goo analysed. It was a total match to Seokmin’s DNA. Since then, we’ve been bringing him in for testing, and it made us realise just how deep the problem runs.”

Chan turns to Seokmin, betrayed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t know,” Seokmin says simply.

“We were administering various drugs to keep the monster at bay,” Jihoon explains, apologetic. “Consensual, of course, but they made him forgetful and exhausted. Don’t blame him, Chan. The Division is at fault for this.”

“What can we do for him?” Wonwoo asks.

“Do you know what the Division wants to do?” Jihoon asks, and his voice raises for the first time. “Cowards. They want to take the power stones out of you. Surgery, whether you like it or not, right here in the Division building. I’ve told them that surgery of that kind is likely to kill you—I couldn’t be clearer about that. But I don’t think they care. Either you survive without the stone and the problem is resolved, or you die, and the problem is still resolved. With the new Rangers distracting everyone from it all.”

“Those pigs,” Chan says, stepping away from the sight of Seokmin curled up on the cot, face drawn at the news. “I’m not going to let that happen. Not on my watch.”

“Nor on mine,” Jihoon agrees. “I thought you might turn up here tonight, Chan, based on Seungkwan’s report of the fight today. But even if you didn’t, I was going to get Seokmin out of here, away from the Division. I can’t let this happen to my team. You deserve better after all you’ve done for the Division, all you’ve done for Seoul.”

“Hyung,” he says, touched. “We’re still your team?”

“Of course,” Jihoon says, punching a code into the screen in front of him, and the door to Seokmin’s containment unit springs open. “When I said you’d never see me again, it was because I knew about this issue, Chan, and wanted the best for you. Not because you’d done anything wrong.”

“Oh, and that wasn’t totally cryptic at all, Hyung,” he says, going inside to give Seokmin a hug.

“Where will we go?” Wonwoo says from the doorway. “The Division owns our apartment. Where can we keep him safe?”

“We’re going to the new Ranger’s apartment,” Jihoon says.

“I hate to break this to you, but the Division owns their apartment too,” Wonwoo says, as Seokmin leans on Chan to help him stand.

“I know,” Jihoon says, mildly amused. “But we need to warn them to leave the Division as soon as they can, so this doesn’t happen to them too. Plus, there’s one more thing I want to try. I think the other Yellow may be able to help with Seokmin’s predicament.”

-

It’s early in the morning by the time they’re knocking on the new Going Rangers’ door. Despite the time, the door is promptly answered by a very ruffled and sleepy-looking Red.

“Seungkwan,” Jihoon starts. “Sorry for the time, but it’s urgent.”

“Come in,” Seungkwan says, stepping back and eyeing up Chan, Wonwoo and Seokmin behind him.

The other Rangers are emerging from their rooms, in various states of dishevelment and sleepiness. Seungkwan disappears into one of the bedrooms for a moment, and they can hear him loudly calling for someone to wake up. He comes back a minute later with a tall man who looks to still be sleeping standing up.

“Sorry to wake you, everyone,” Jihoon starts awkwardly, as Wonwoo helps a drained Seokmin sit back on the sofa. When all six new Rangers are present in the room, Jihoon puts his hands on his hips, looking a little lost. “I suppose I’d better introduce you. Everyone, this is Chan, Wonwoo and Seokmin, the old Red, Black and Yellow. Guys, this is Seungkwan, Mingyu, Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Vernon and Junhui. Junhui is the other Yellow.”

All heads in the room turn Junhui’s way, and the man shrinks back behind Jeonghan at the attention.

“What do you need Junhui for?” Seungkwan asks, crossing his arms. The effect isn’t very intimidating when his hair looks like a bird’s nest, but Chan can appreciate him holding fast in the leader role, even half-asleep. “Is this Division business, Hyung?”

“Not exactly,” Jihoon says apologetically. He places the briefcase he brought with him on the table and straightens up. “You know how you fought Seokmin earlier today, as a fifty-foot-tall goo hunger monster?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan says, eyeing up Seokmin on the sofa. “He’s alright now?”

“Not really, no. We think Junhui might be able to help us stabilise him. We also came to warn you—you need to cut ties with the Division immediately, or this could happen to you too.” Jihoon beckons Junhui over to the sofa, who complies, even as Seungkwan and Soonyoung make noises of alarm.

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu asks, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “How could that happen to us?”

“It’s linked to our power stones,” Chan tells them, as Jihoon bends over to open up his briefcase. “Jihoon believes this could happen to all of us. My team needs to be examined as soon as possible, but you should all stop using your powers, effective immediately. We don’t know how much more potent your power stones might be now.”

“That’s why sunlight solved it,” Jeonghan says, with wonder. “Because Seokmin is your Yellow. And his stone is…”

“Working against him?” Vernon asks, with horror on his face.

“This can’t be right,” Soonyoung says, looking worried.

“The Division are panicking about it because they know they’ve caused it. They want to perform dangerous surgery on the old Rangers in order to prevent more monstrous results.” From his briefcase, Jihoon picks out a blocky-looking handheld machine with a little screen. “But I have an idea that might help you guys. You might find it weird, but… trust me when I say it’s for your own good.”

“Okay,” Seokmin says, voice still hopeful. “What is it? I’ll take anything.”

Jihoon presses the end of the little device into Seokmin’s skin. It works for a few seconds, then beeps twice, the screen flashing. “This device monitors how far your body structure has changed, or can change, from what it’s supposed to be. Your result has a lot of worrying numbers, due to your—” he waves his hands around—“goo problem. Whereas Junhui…”

He leans over and presses the device into Junhui’s arm. This time, it only beeps once, and the screen stays static.

“He’s fine?” Seungkwan asks.

“Yes,” Jihoon confirms. “There are the starting signs of molecular change due to the toxins released by the power stone, but nothing dangerous. At this point, Junhui’s body is able to accept them, and regulate them. But another year or two of this, and the toxins will populate your cells at a rate too high for your body to combat.”

“So he needs a blood transfusion?” Wonwoo asks, frowning. “If Junhui’s body knows how to regulate the same toxins, don’t we just need to pass that onto Seokmin?”

Jihoon points at Wonwoo, then lowers his hand a little awkwardly. “Almost right,” he says, rubbing the back of his head. “We’ve found these toxins in the bloodstream, but we’ve actually found them to be gathering much more potently in your parotid gland.”

The room pauses awkwardly. “Our saliva?” Wonwoo says, and Chan blinks in surprise.

“Yes,” Jihoon says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It’s why the goo monster in you is so hungry, Seokmin.”

“So he needs a saliva… transfer…” Chan says, and only realises how that sounds when he says it out loud.

“They need to make out?” Mingyu asks, dumbfounded.

“Erm,” Junhui says, looking even more fidgety and panicked than before.

“Oh,” Seokmin says. “Really?”

“Really,” Jihoon says, backing away from the sofa. “Maybe it would be easier if the two of you found a quiet room.”

Seokmin and Junhui look at each other, and Junhui clutches his head in his hands, looking incredibly awkward.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Seokmin says, and Junhui lets out this noise like a pained animal.

“Come on,” he says, suddenly grabbing Seokmin’s hand and pulling him from the room. The two of them disappear into a bedroom that’s presumably Junhui’s, door closing behind them.

The living room is left in stunned silence for a few moments. Then Wonwoo clears his throat and asks,

“Will we all need to do that?”

Soonyoung, who is presumably the other Black, straightens up. “Yes, will we?”

“Let me take a look at you,” Jihoon says, coming over to put his device to Wonwoo’s skin. The device beeps twice, and Jihoon studies it with a frown. “Your toxins aren’t quite as advanced as Seokmin’s, Wonwoo. I have this theory that, because Seokmin has already transformed into his goo form, he’ll need repeated regulation of his parotid gland for the foreseeable future. But if we can catch these toxins before they turn the rest of you, one incident of exposure to regulated toxins might be enough for your body to adapt to self-regulation.”

“So yes,” Seungkwan says. “You could’ve just said yes, he needs to kiss Soonyoung.”

“Does he?” Chan frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Just once,” Jihoon says, almost apologetically. “Let’s check you too, Chan.”

Chan flinches as Jihoon prods him with the device, trying not to meet eyes with Seungkwan.

“Yup, same situation,” Jihoon says. “You should both be glad we caught it now. Go on.” He dismisses Chan with a wave of his hand, going to sit in Seokmin’s place on the sofa. Chan frowns over at him, then looks over at Wonwoo. He wants to protest, but doesn’t know what to say.

“Oh, come on,” Seungkwan says, grabbing his wrist and tugging him into an unoccupied room. He shuts the door behind them, then turns on Chan, determined. “Don’t be a baby about this.”

“Who are you calling baby?” Chan asks, before Seungkwan comes in and kisses him.

It’s just a brief capture of mouths, a swipe of the tongue, and Seungkwan withdraws a little pink in the face. He clears his throat. “It’s just to save your life.”

“I know,” Chan says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crossing his arms defensively. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Seungkwan says, trying pat down the mess of hair on his head. “Just don’t frown so much at Soonyoung when you go back out there. Your Black will still give you googly eyes after this, I promise.”

“He what?” Chan says, confused. “That’s none of my business. I just feel bad that it’s had to come to this, putting people out of their comfort zone.”

Seungkwan laughs at him before going back over to the door. “Sure.”

Chan follows after him. “Wait—is that really all we have to do?”

“Jihoon-hyung?” Seungkwan calls as he comes out of the room. “It doesn’t need to be a real snog, does it?”

Chan follows after him to find Wonwoo and Soonyoung emerging from the next door room, too. Wonwoo makes brief eye-contact with Chan, then looks away.

Jihoon comes over with his device, prodding Chan with it again. It beeps once, and Jihoon verbally marvels at the results.

“It’s already having an effect, Chan. I think once will definitely be enough.”

“Seokmin and Junhui don’t actually seem to have much issue with making out for this long,” Jeonghan says with an amused tone, checking his Ranger watch.

“Great,” Chan says, as Jihoon tests Wonwoo too. “Okay. We can go and get Joshua, Minghao and Seungcheol this morning, and bring them back here for the same treatment. Then we’ll all be alright, yeah?”

“Your team will be, Chan,” Jihoon says. “But we still have to shut down the new power stones, or else the new Rangers are at risk of becoming as unwell as you guys.”

Wonwoo wanders over to the apartment window, looking out at the sunrise there. “Jihoon,” he starts, not sounding as happy as he should, considering he’s just been cured of a potentially gooey future. “What would happen if two members of our team were already exchanging toxins with each other?”

Jihoon’s face drops. “I would theorise… the toxins would morph, the way the Rangers are built to morph. And it wouldn’t be pretty. Please tell me you’re asking this theoretically.”

“Oh, God,” Seokmin says, emerging from the doorway, mouth kissed pink and Junhui hiding behind him. “Joshua and Seungcheol.”

“Don’t say it,” Jihoon says.

“They’re together,” Wonwoo says.

“They’re what?” Chan exclaims.

“I think in more ways than one,” Wonwoo says, pointing out the window. The nine other occupants of the apartment immediately swarm over to the windows, following his gaze.

The sunrise over the city is glinting through the sight of a huge tidal wave rising up, seemingly out of nowhere, and crashing down onto a skyscraper.

“Water and wind,” Vernon says. “This is bad news. It’s like a living tsunami.”

“Oh, hell,” Jihoon says.

“Rangers, it looks like we have one more fight to win,” Seungkwan calls to his team, who each step into their own space. “It’s morphin’ time!”

As the new Rangers begin to suit up, Chan takes Wonwoo’s arm. “We have to go out there and get them. We can help.”

“I think you can,” Seokmin says, pushing through the bodies to talk to the two of them. He’s still obviously weak, but his eyes are alert. “Guys, it wasn’t really the sunlight that changed me back. It was seeing something I loved—I love the sun so much, and being reminded of that brought me back to myself. I don’t think you should use water or wind to bring them back. You know Cheol and Josh never loved their powers the way we did. I think you need to talk to them—I think they need to see their teammates are there for them.”

“We can get on board with that,” Seungkwan says. The new Rangers are all suited up, ready for a fight, but Seungkwan speaks to Chan directly. “You’re going to need to get up high to talk to them. We can drive them towards the museum building, if you guys can climb up to the roof and talk to them from there.”

“We’ll get there as soon as we can,” Chan says, and Seungkwan nods at him, leading his team from the apartment at speeds Chan can’t match anymore.

“Here,” Mingyu says, throwing Chan two sets of keys before leaving. “My bike and Jeonghan’s car, take whatever you can drive.”

Chan looks at Jihoon, who only shakes his head and backs away from him.

“Nope, not going on your crazy mission. I’ll stay with Seokmin.”

Wonwoo takes the keys to the bike out of Chan’s hand and winks at him. “My way it is, then.”

-

Chan has only been on the back of Wonwoo’s motorbike once, and he could only manage it when he was fully morphed into his Ranger gear, protected from the outside world by his visor and armour. Now, he doesn’t have anything on but the leather jacket he’d taken from Vernon’s wardrobe, clutching Wonwoo’s waist as they drive through the early morning streets of Seoul.

He’s still a little unnerved about it all—they could crash and die at any moment on this thing. But he trusts Wonwoo, and feels some security in having him be the driver. Plus, with how important this is, neither of them will let something like Seoul traffic get in their way of helping Seungcheol and Joshua.

Not that there’s much traffic out at this time of morning. Chan is willing to bet everyone has seen the massive sentient tsunami wandering around their city, and decided to stay in their homes for the day. He’s grateful for that much, at least.

Their main obstacle—especially as they get closer to where the huge, morphed form of his hyungs is crashing about in the city center—is all the damn water that seems to come out of nowhere.

He can’t tell if it’s Vernon’s attempts to herd the monster one way, or Seungcheol’s deranged power going haywire, or a mixture of both, but there are these viscous clumps of water rising up in angry human-ish forms. The water-creatures burst out of the sewage caps, fly out from shop windows, and project from the odd fire hydrant, blocking their way to the museum.

Wonwoo, going at high speed on Mingyu’s motorbike, swerves them as best they can. But it’s as if the water knows who they are, and what they’re going to do—they’re swarmed at every turn, until eventually they’re caught off-guard by a tidal wave that tries to swallow them whole.

They go right through it, water flying everywhere, and Wonwoo skids to a stop a few streets away from the museum.

“I’ll get us killed like this. I can’t see a thing when they’re all in our way,” he says, and Chan pushes himself off the bike, thankfully not too wobbly on his feet.

“That’s alright, you got us close enough.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Wonwoo points down the street they have to take to reach the museum. The water creatures are rising up here, too, and now that they’ve stopped driving Chan can hear them properly—they howl like the sound of Joshua’s wind at high speeds. With the city dead around them, it’s an eerie noise to be surrounded by.

“Hyung,” he says, watching them morph and grow and approach them and the abandoned bike. “Look. They’re solidifying.”

Wonwoo is rummaging through the storage box in the back of the motorbike, and comes out with a baseball bat. “Good,” he says, pushing his round glasses up his nose. He grips the baseball bat with one hand, resting it against his shoulder. “That makes them easier to hit.”

One of the creatures rounds the corner behind them, and Wonwoo grips his baseball bat and swings it hard. It crashes straight through the head of the creature, and as it falls apart from the chest up, Chan sees the water is becoming more goo-like the more the creature solidifies. Even as they watch, the creature begins to recall its goo back to its body, rolling along concrete and forming up again to the size of a tall man.

“Don’t suppose you left any baseball bats for me?” Chan asks, eyeing up the museum. The huge Seungcheol-Joshua tidal wave is getting closer now, and he needs to make a break for it.

“There’s a Gameboy in there,” Wonwoo says, peering into the storage box. “And a camera.”

“So no, you didn’t.”

“You could hit things with those!”

“I’ll take my chances,” Chan says, turning back to face the street again. He may not be as fast as he was, but he’s still agile, with quick reflexes. All he has to do is run and dodge. “I’m going to run for it. Can you keep these things off my back?”

“Always,” Wonwoo promises. “I’ll see you up there.”

He strides over to an approaching water-monster and whacks it right through the chest, spraying blue goo everywhere.

“See you there,” Chan says, steeling himself, before taking off through the wet street.

He occasionally hears Wonwoo’s footsteps and blows behind him, but he relies mostly on his wits, and the malleability of the monsters. Even when a few do reach out for him, they can’t really grab him. As long as he doesn’t stay still, he doesn’t take any damage from running through the odd water-monster on the way up to the museum building.

He jumps the gate with less skill than he’s used to, but makes it quickly enough not to get grabbed, then runs across the grassy garden outside the building to find the fire escape. It takes a running leap and the help of a strategically-placed trash can to get up onto the emergency staircase, but he makes it, and takes off up the four flights of emergency stairs.

The Seungcheol-Joshua monster is really close now, just one street over, and he can hear the sounds of the other Rangers doing their best against it from here. The forces of Jeonghan’s winds nearly knock him over, in fact, and Soonyoung’s night covers the back of the creature, ushering it in a direction it can see. While Seungkwan can’t be too useful against creatures made of water, Chan can tell his leadership is bringing the team the right way, leading the Seungcheol-Joshua problem straight to him.

As the huge, gooey monster of his friends rounds the corner, he spots what looks like the Pink Ranger scaling the side of the museum building. But Chan has spent years getting used to the sight of Minghao’s illusions—he knows a false image when he sees it. This illusion is to bring the attention of the monster to him, and he times it down to the second to take full advantage of it.

“Hey!” he shouts, when the image of Pink reaches the rooftop with him and vanishes. “Seungcheol! Joshua! It’s me! I’ve come to get you out of there!”

The water-wind-morphed-monstrosity looks right at him, deep recesses in the goo where there should be eyes, and makes the incredibly loud, wind-whistling sound the others had been making. Even now, the monster towers over him, shadows him, standing several metres taller than the museum building.

“I know you’re scared!” he shouts, coming up to stand at the edge of the roof. “So am I! But I know how to fix you, and I won’t let this hurt you anymore!”

The sounds of grunting echoes up from the streets below, and he spots Yellow and Red taking the old fashioned method of punching the little water-monsters, their powers not so effective against them. But they’re not making any progress—much like Wonwoo had found, their bodies re-form too easily, making them endless and unbeatable.

“I promise I’m not going to leave you. I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you, either,” he calls. “It’s me, hyungs. Chan, the kid who’s led you these past eight years!”

“Chan!” Wonwoo’s voice calls from down below, and Chan looks down. He’s surrounded by the monsters, unable to reach the emergency staircase.

Chan feels desperate. This has to work—they can’t win without it. The monster goes as if to turn away, groaning, and he stands up on where the roof is walled, putting himself wholly in front of his friends.

“Hyungs! I love you! I’m here for you! You’ll always be my team, and nothing can take that away from us!”

The monster turns back, slowly, goo starting to slide off from its head and dropping into the street. The next groan sounds a little questioning, and Chan laughs with victory, knowing he has a foothold.

“I love you! Do you hear me? I love you!”

The monster melts a little faster, coming down to be a similar height as the rooftop.

“I love you!” Wonwoo calls up, in the loudest voice Chan has ever heard him use.

“I love you!” Seungkwan calls too, and Chan laughs again.

“We love you so much, hyungs!” he calls, and the monster is shrinking faster and faster.

They’ve done it! It’s just like Seokmin said—the power of love is enough to overpower the strength of the botched power stones.

He looks down at Wonwoo, who is able to whack straight through the circle of monsters around him. This time, they stay down.

Wonwoo looks right back up at him. They meet eyes, and smile at the same time.

He really loves his team.

“Chan, watch out!” Seungkwan calls, and Chan looks up just in time to see a huge, gooey arm reaching out for him.

He isn’t able to back away in time, and the Seungcheol-Joshua monster is larger and stronger than the small ones. The gooey arm latches around his leg, pulling him off the roof entirely.

“Chan!” he hears Wonwoo yell, right before he’s brought into the body of the shrinking monster.

A hug, he realises, as watery-goo invades all his senses. A very nice gesture—only Joshua, Master of the Wind, and Seungcheol, Controller of the Depths of the Sea, can function just fine inside their mega-morphed monster.

Chan, however, needs to breathe.

He goes tumbling through the body of the monster for what feels like forever, not able to see or hear anything, runny goo invading his mouth, doing his best not to choke on it. Eventually, he gets spat out onto concrete, and a wash of the last of the goo runs over him. He comes out choking, unable to see, with hands on him, hard thumps to his back encouraging him to cough up all the goo he’d inhaled.

“Chan? Chan, are you alright?”

He rubs his eyes, coughs a few more times, then is able to get his vision straight enough to see Wonwoo kneeling in front of him, holding onto his shoulder and looking into his face with worry.

“I’m okay,” he croaks. “I’ll live.”

Behind Wonwoo, he sees Jeonghan step over to a dazed and confused Joshua, and say,

“I have to kiss you now to save your life, okay?”

“What?” Joshua asks. Over to his side, Seungcheol is being helped up by Vernon, who awkwardly looks him up and down.

“They’re okay,” he says, refocusing on Wonwoo. “We did it!”

“You saved them,” Wonwoo agrees, eyes bright, smile coming back now that Chan is responsive again. “We couldn’t have done it without you, Red.”

“Hey, goo-goo-eyes,” Seungkwan says from nearby. He’s also covered in goo, though his messy hair is still dry when he snaps back his visor. “You should give Chan mouth-to-mouth. You know, just in case.”

“I’m breathing fine,” Chan says, embarrassed that Seungkwan would suggest such a thing. Not that it’s embarrassing to be saved by Wonwoo, but—well. He doesn’t need to be saved like that.

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo asks, wiping some goo remnants from Chan’s eyebrow. The touch is tender—more gentle than it needs to be.

Chan looks him in the face—really looks at him.

“Hey,” he says. “You know, it never really made sense, what you said about staying with the Rangers because of me. You stayed for the whole team, didn’t you?”

Wonwoo swipes his thumb through the hair besides his ear next, not looking Chan in the eyes. “I stayed with the Rangers because of our team,” he agrees.

“So why do you think he stayed after your Rangers disbanded?” Seungkwan asks, as if talking to a small child. “It was just you then, wasn’t it?”

Chan looks back at Wonwoo, and Wonwoo looks away.

“Um,” he says. “Because…”

“Because I love you more than anything else,” Wonwoo says, and Chan’s breath catches.

“M—me? Love me?”

“Just get on with it, Red,” Seungkwan says, pained. “I reckon your toxins are regulated enough, or whatever. I’ve only known you for a day, and I can’t stand this anymore.”

“Oh. Well. Maybe I could do with some mouth-to-mouth, actually,” Chan says, and Wonwoo laughs, hiding his face in his shoulder. Chan laughs too, at the ridiculousness of it all.

Is this how it all ends? With a new beginning?

He turns Wonwoo’s face towards him, hand splayed across his cheek, and leans in to kiss him. They’re both soaked wet, Wonwoo kneeling over Chan in the middle of the empty street, as Seungkwan cheers and someone else wolf-whistles at them. But the way Wonwoo smiles into it—and the way the feeling lights up his chest, like this is always how they were meant to collide—well.

He could learn to live with new adventures like this.

-

They go public with the human rights violations of the Division only a few days later, after they’ve secured a good lawyer and given their full reports to the police. Jihoon works with them to shut down the power stone technology—while the stones lie dormant within them, they won’t have their powers, but they’re not getting sicker, either.

All of them have had their toxins regulated—Seokmin, Joshua and Seungcheol on a regular basis—and Seokmin is significantly stronger now that they’ve found a fix. The rest of Chan’s team go back to their happy retirement, supporting Chan, Wonwoo and the new Rangers in the court case as much as they can.

But the new Rangers, and Chan—and by extension Wonwoo—believe there are more good fights to fight.

“We’re going freelance,” Seungkwan announces, when Chan and Wonwoo come to check in on how their power-stone deactivation is hitting them. “We still have skills and training, and we still want to change the world. People will always need helping, and you guys proved to us that we can still help them, powers or no powers. If you want in, we’d like to have you on our side.”

Chan, for one, likes the sound of that idea. He meets eyes with Wonwoo, who is already looking back at him with a knowing look.

“I’m in,” he says, already knowing that Chan is. “But let’s find an apartment first, please.”

Chan laughs. “I’m in,” he tells Seungkwan. “As soon as we’ve found a new place to live, you can sign us up for saving the world.”

At their next apartment viewing, Chan is in a much better headspace to appreciate what he’s seeing. He can envision it—enough space for them to muck about in front of the television, watching movies on nights in, playing games together, eating snacks from the low table. A kitchen they’ll barely use, but keep clean enough to keep Joshua and Seungcheol happy—a pull out bed that can house Seokmin when he comes to stay over. A tiny little balcony that Minghao will love, big enough for him to sit on and watch the sunset with a glass of wine.

One bedroom, with one bed big enough for him and Wonwoo.

“I love it,” he says, looking out at the view of Seoul from the living room window. “I think this is the one.”

“We still have the two-bedroom viewing later today,” Wonwoo reminds him. “I don’t mind if you want to play it safe, still. It’s early days.”

“No, it isn’t,” he muses. At their first date the week prior, eating out at their favourite family diner, Wonwoo had confessed to liking Chan for nearly six years.

Six years!

Chan has had a lot of life upheaval in the last few weeks, but when he thinks about it—when he really looks into himself—it’s not such a crazy thing to accept that he’s had his own feelings for a long time too, buried under all his duty. His team have always been special to him, each in different ways. He never really took a minute to figure out exactly what each of those feelings meant.

Now he has time, and he has Wonwoo. Those two things are enough for him.

He knows what he wants. He wants this—a home, a new start. Giving his first relationship the best shot he can.

“No, it isn’t,” Wonwoo agrees softly, smiling at the ground a little bashfully.

In truth, this is the easiest thing to accept. Easier than the status of leader, easier than his retirement, easier than learning his friends were turning into goo monsters.

Love has always come easily to him.

“Let’s take this one,” Chan says, reaching out to take Wonwoo’s hand.

Wonwoo squeezes his hand right back, expression so delighted and sweet under the bright Seoul sun streaming in through the windows.

“Whatever you say, Red.”