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It was 1A.M. when Donghyuck had heard fumbling, rousing him from his sleep. Frankly, he didn’t like that he was disturbed; but it was either someone who he had expected to come home late in the night or an intruder, to which he thought is also a possibility given the state of New York. Swiping his hands down to his face, he leaves the warmth of his bed to reprimand the nuisance. He carefully goes down without turning on the lights; a slouched silhouette not going amiss as he took the short flight of stairs from the loft to the living area where he saw one window being opened, already having a feeling on who it was. When he heard a loud thud, Donghyuck finally turned on the lights to reveal the crook sneaking into his apartment. Except it wasn’t an ammature crook; it was his roommate, Mark, who he later found out was also Spider-Man. How he ended up being roommates with the notorious masked hero of today’s society was beyond him but then again, anything could happen.
“We have a door,” Donghyuck chastises, hands on his hips as he gazes down on the identified figure — a clumsy one — who had ungracefully entered through the window of their shared apartment, left foot almost being crushed as it caught on the edge of the sill the exact moment the window slammed itself shut. Mark looks up from where he had fallen on the floor, sheepish but bashful all the same under the red mask that he was wearing. Donghyuck takes the liberty of removing the disguise that was covering his roommate’s face, ignoring the resounding protest and feeble attempt of stopping him.
Mark’s head hits the wooden floor again with a soft thump after the tanned boy had successfully gotten rid of the spandex. “Ow,” he grumbles with a pout, finding comfort in the awkward position he’s in as he still laid on their apartment floor, left leg propped against the closed window.
Donghyuck raises a brow in scrutiny. “You have a busted lip and a nasty bruise on your right cheek yet you say ‘ow’ to a light hit on the back of your head?”
“In my defense, I said ‘ow’ to those two things, too. During the fight.”
Donghyuck had enough self control to not press a finger on the blackening bruise on the older’s face. Out of pettiness, because Mark was being a pain in his ass in the middle of the night. Instead, he offers his hand to the still sprawled figure on the cold surface of their floor. He would have said that it was filthy to lie there but Mark’s suit was the apparent and only filthy thing that could be seen within the constraints of their shared space. If anything, Mark was the one leaving a dirty stain to the once clean spot before he had barged in — and Donghyuck had just mopped their floor earlier today, goddamn it. Still, it wasn’t ideal to lay on the cold vinyl. Donghyuck didn’t like the idea of the older getting sick because of it so he shook his hand in front of Mark’s face for the older to grab onto it to lift himself up.
“Get up and take your suit off.”
Instead of grabbing the tanned hand that was offered to him, Mark made a move to cover his chest and slightly tilt his body away from Donghyuck. Glancing over his shoulder, Mark had the audacity to feign a glare at the young man hovering above him before mumbling, “Pervert.”
Donghyuck’s eye twitches in annoyance.
The media was right when they called the swinging vigilante known as Spider-Man a menace rather than the friendly hero the majority claimed him to be; because clearly, Mark had a knack for annoying the shit out of his enemies — and Donghyuck, apparently. Most especially him.
Crumpling the webbed red mask in his hands, Donghyuck tries to throw it square to the hero’s face but becomes a failed attempt. A smug chuckle emits from Mark as he easily catches, as what he had said in passing before, the most important part of his costume before he pushes himself off the floor with ease. As soon as he stood up, however, Donghyuck took the opportunity to kick the other on the shin causing him to stumble forward in surprise. The tanned man had only stepped aside to avoid collision. When he regained his balance, Mark finally threw a sincere glare; and Donghyuck had only shrugged in defiance as he made a move to lock the window the older one had just come into. It was done out of retaliation, because Donghyuck was petty like that.
The tanned man leans on the ledge of the window before crossing his arms over his chest with a huff, focusing back to more pressing matters. “I know you were out there saving the world and stuff but could you at least use the door when you get home?”
“You knew it was me,” Mark says as he positions himself in front of the younger, his back facing Donghyuck. “Hey, could you get the back? I can’t…” The words in Mark’s mouth fade as he makes an act of showing to the younger one that he can’t reach the zipper at the back of his tight suit before he unceremoniously slumps his arms to his side and slouches in defeat. Donghyuck groans in complaint but does it anyway, fingers carefully pulling the zipper down to let the hero be freed from the red and blue spandex.
“You're flexible as a gymnast yet you can’t even reach the back of your suit,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath as the zipper finally met the end of its path.
“Well, my shoulder hurts,” Mark pouts again, carding himself from his suit in a careful manner, making his point. “Got hit pretty hard earlier.” The upper half of the costume hung idly on Mark’s torso, his entire back laid bare for the younger to see the aftermath of his fight. No shit, Donghyuck thinks to himself as his eyes traced the breadth of his back that was painted with dark hues, a mix of blue and purple starting from the muscle near his shoulder down to his waist.
The commotion that had happened earlier at the center of the city was broadcasted in almost every possible news outlet the States had. It was a usual robbery and car chase, except the group had an armor that could rival Rhino’s strength and had rendered the enforcement’s efforts nearly futile. In typical Spider-Man grandeur, Mark had swooped in when the chase had ended up near Midtown and got messy from there. Donghyuck didn’t have to finish the entire telecast to know that the group of thieves was apprehended almost right after. The fact that Mark was standing in front of him was enough for him to know that he had come out of the fight in one piece albeit scathed, but it had completely eased the worry that he had felt. Breathing out, Donghyuck reaches over to press his palm on Mark’s back, avoiding the areas where bruises have formed as he gently coaxed him forward.
“Take a shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”
Mark turns around to face the younger, a smile adorning his lips. “You were worried,” he says. It wasn’t a question, it was rather a statement — a statement that Donghyuck will not feed into as he bites down on his tongue when he had almost, exasperatedly, replied with an of course. Though his concurrence will be kept within the vicinity of Donghyuck’s mind until he dies. He will take all thoughts relating to Mark to his grave — not like he always thought of a certain spider hero. That, too, is something that the tanned man will deny. In response, Donghyuck dramatically rolls his eyes as he walks past the hero to make his way towards their loft.
“I just don’t want you waltzing around my apartment in your dirty spidey suit,” he retorts, vaguely waving his hand as he emphasizes one word to make his point across.
Unfortunately for Donghyuck, Mark has selective hearing. “Our apartment.”
“Not for long. I’m kicking you out.”
Mark snorts at the empty threat. “Yet I’m still here,” he casually says, the lilt in his voice confident and resolute because, for no better reason, Donghyuck had never really put an action to the warning that was apparently said too many times for Mark to know that Donghyuck would not, Donghyuck will never. They both knew that the younger one wouldn’t kick Mark out that easily. Mark had an identity to protect. As for Donghyuck, well, he has Mark’s secret to keep.
From the foot of the stairs, Donghyuck simply squints at the hero. “Enter through the window again and I’m tossing your baggage out of it,” he says before turning around to go up. There was no bite in his tone but Mark had learned from their first year of being roommates that Donghyuck’s words were as unpredictable as his actions. He could still vividly remember the one time that Mark had failed to dispose of his scrapped webs in their open living room. He was about to take care of them when Donghyuck had volunteered to clean it up on his behalf and Mark, in all his oblivious glory, bashedly accepted the help. When he had gotten home that day, however, he found all of his belongings suspended on their ceiling — the very webs that Donghyuck had said he would throw away were loosely holding onto everything that the hero owned. It took him all night to get all of his stuff down and back to where they initially belonged. Until today, Mark has no idea how the younger executed the prank effortlessly given the high plafond. It was then that he had learned that Donghyuck was not a force to be reckoned with, so he took the younger’s words in mind before he made his way to the bathroom, a chuckle slipping past his lips at the absurdity of Donghyuck’s claim but found it amusing all the same.
“Aren’t you a little late for work?” Mark had asked the second he sat down on the bar stool of their kitchen island, hand reaching over their coffee pot to pour some of the caffeine into a Spider-Man merchandise mug.
“I had the others open the cafe for me,” he swiftly says as he flips two pancakes over with practiced ease, leaving it there to cook for a while as he grabs a plate for the older. Donghyuck runs his own cafe down the street. Mark had learned that he had opened it when he turned twenty, choosing to spend his savings worth to earn more and to perfect his craft than have it disbursed for a piece of paper that does not guarantee you the career that you spent years studying for. Needless to say, the younger’s capacity in cooking had made him the designated chef in their apartment after Mark had almost burned their place down from cooking a simple scrambled egg. The incident caused the hero some form of banishment from touching the stove, but it did grant him meals that were restaurant worthy.
The sizzle from the pan fills the brief silence between the two before Mark catches a glimpse of Donghyuck glancing over his shoulder, giving the hero a once over. “Put on a shirt,” he says right after, diverting his attention back to the stove.
Mark hums as he sips from his coffee. “Done looking?”
Donghyuck murmurs in agreement as he places the newly cooked pancakes on the plate he had just gotten out before pouring another batch of batter onto the pan. It wasn’t shocking anymore for Donghyuck to see Mark walk around their apartment without a shirt on the very next morning. It was the hero’s own way of telling his roommate that he had recovered from yesterday’s battles. Bruises and cuts that looked relatively fresh and were fragile to the touch have now ceased from his skin as if they weren’t there in the first place, a temporary trick to the mind if you weren’t aware of Spider-Man’s abilities.
The first time Donghyuck had seen Mark so beat up, he had almost taken him to the hospital — the spider hero had barely convinced him that he could tend to his wounds himself, asking Donghyuck to calm down and to breathe through his nose as he repeatedly reassured the younger that he will be fine. Donghyuck had remembered being so scared that night. Mark barely made it home with a first grade concussion and a severe laceration to his side. After regathering himself, Donghyuck had helped Mark sew the open wound and wrap the rest of his cuts. The next morning, Mark had joined him for breakfast without any form of bandage around the areas that the younger was sure they had covered the night before. When he had asked about it, seemingly concerned and confused, Mark had explained to him that he can heal his own wounds given enough rest. It wasn’t regeneration, but it was close to that. Donghyuck could recall Mark calling it enhanced healing, and the variation of recovery depended on the severity of the damage he had received.
The younger one had made Mark promise to not hide his injuries from him because, God forbid, if Mark had suddenly dropped dead, Donghyuck wouldn’t know what to do. The very next day, Mark had gone down to eat without a shirt on. An obvious display for Donghyuck to let him know that he has recovered from the mishap that was the night before. Donghyuck had shared that it was unnecessary but the older disagreed and said that it was easier that way, though it still relieved the younger that he was fine despite not admitting it out loud.
And so, their morning routine included a delicate breakfast from Donghyuck and a topless Mark.
“Can you buy some chips on your way home?” Donghyuck asks as he gives Mark his portion of food before sitting next to him. “Stash is almost out.”
Mark allows himself to cut through his stack of pancakes before reprimanding, “You should lessen your junk food intake.”
“You’re not my mom.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes as he pours syrup all over his own set of pancakes. Mark leans over to nudge the other on the shoulder before he continues cutting up the cake into equal triangles.
“With the amount of unhealthy food you eat, I might as well be.”
Donghyuck scoffs. “Nagging roommate wasn’t enough of a role?”
“You’re the nagging roommate,” Mark quips just as fast, reaching over to Donghyuck’s plate to switch it with his — the neatly cut up stack is now switched with the one that was drowning in maple syrup because Donghyuck seemed to have a sweet tooth despite preferring foods that required hints of flavor rather than sugar.
“Hey!” Donghyuck hisses, pointing his fork at the hero. “You deserved that nagging. You didn’t take the door!” — and there it was, the classic door argument. Of course Donghyuck would venture back to that once the opportunity presents itself. And so, their morning routine included a delicate breakfast from Donghyuck and a topless Mark; and a third thing that is only brought up when prompted: Spider-Man refusing to use the door whenever he goes home. Mark uses it occasionally though, but with his part-time duty as a hero who protects this city, Mark often comes back in his spidey suit, too beat up to change back into the clothes he wears whenever he steps outside. Donghyuck scolds him about the habit, to which Mark had learned to tune it out most of the time.
When Donghyuck had purchased the loft, he was bummed out that he didn’t have a view of the city like he had always dreamed of; but the rent was at a reasonable price for him to pass on the opportunity. Their apartment had big windows, enough to let natural light in, but it faced a huge brick wall that completely shuts them out from whatever’s going on in the streets. That was their only view — a span of brick with a few frosted windows that was across the unit beside them. After a few months, Donghyuck had gotten used to the masonry and grew to love it. Mark, on the other hand, when he had first seen the apartment, instantly saw it as a clear advantage and had used it solely for his convenience; which leads back to their endless discourse of using the window as some form of entrance and exit. In Mark’s defense, Donghyuck always, and he means always, leaves at least one window unlocked for him — although there was that one time when he had pissed Donghyuck off that he locked him out of their apartment with no form of opening for Mark to crawl his way into, windows and door similarly sealed shut. Other than that incident, the younger had always made sure that Mark had access to their shared space regardless if it was through the window or, preferably, the goddamn door.
Donghyuck keeps telling him to stop being reckless. Mark counters that the younger should stop enabling his particular choices of what he considers a good enough entrance — in this case, the windows.
Unfortunately, Mark had won the argument this morning. It was unfortunate because he had lost breakfast and dinner privileges from Donghyuck for a week. Indeed, a losing battle will always be a hard pill to swallow for heroes like Mark.
Fr: spidey
r u srsly going 2 let me STARVE for a WEEK
To: spidey
maybe if u learned how to use the door like a NORMAL person
Fr: spidey
so you see
m not normal per se
i’m literally spiderman
To: spidey
being spiderman doesn’t give u a pass to not use our door
Fr: spidey
:(( m gonna go hungry
To: spidey
u literally have a job, u EARN
buy ur own food
Fr: spidey
if i use the door, will u cook for me?
To: spidey
buy me my chips then maybe i’ll reconsider
Fr: spidey
u r evil
The day had passed almost uneventfully, save for petty robberies and minor assistance for civilians in need — it was like any normal day for the acclaimed friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and Mark, sometimes, preferred that kind of peace than any wreaked havoc that reigned on the city every once in a while. A day with no major incident granted Mark to take it easy. It allowed him to linger amongst the crowd and pretend that he was like any other New Yorker he passed by except for when he had to spring into action, always on high alert and always up on his feet.
However, mundanity isn’t something that Mark was blessed with after being bitten — and he should have known that when he had heard it from afar; he sensed it in a split second, the hairs at the back of his neck standing as a high pitched sound resonated amidst the quiet neighborhood.
Sounds of sirens, relenting and panicked; and then—
“Please! My child– my baby! She’s… she’s still inside!”
“Help! Someone, please!”
And Mark was in the air almost instantly, swinging his way to where anxiety rose along with the fire that ate an apartment building whole. The street shone with orange and red, overpowering the dim streetlights and illuminating the scattered faces on the street, despair etched in their expressions as they stared at the crumbling building before them, unable to do anything.
Fire trucks, ambulances, and policemen started to loiter the boulevard as they kept residents and bystanders from going near the disaster. The desperate screams and pleas from the residents of the burning building gnawed at Mark’s heart in an unsettling manner; it didn’t ease him that the fire was only growing worse by the second, the thick smoke already weighing heavy in his lungs as he approached. The scene before him was frantic that it was hard to look at — Mark had to calm himself down as he maneuvered himself midair at a faster pace.
As his feet touched the concrete, he felt the overwhelming heat coming from the building in front of him. He was about to ask about the current situation when a familiar face emerged from the blazing structure, face covered in ashes similar to those who have been evacuated before the situation got to what it currently was. He was carrying a child in his arms, a little boy in a state almost the same as him except he was wheezing due to the smoke. Mark was immediately glued to his spot, blood running cold at the reality that he was inside. When their gazes met, his legs found the strength to run towards him.
Donghyuck.
“What are you doing here?” Mark had asked, voice a little muffled from the mask he was wearing but Donghyuck could hear the worry along the edges of each word. He offered a small smile to somehow comfort the hero but only made him worry even more when he started to cough haphazardly, the fumes that he had inhaled while inside suddenly getting to him.
“Fuck,” Mark whispered frantically as his hands hovered over Donghyuck’s slouched figure as he wheezed. “You– you need to go to the ambulance. Now.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Donghyuck rasped.
Mark rolled his eyes before he moved to carry the younger and the boy he was still carrying. He heard a tiny squeak from the other that he could only identify as shock as Mark hurriedly took them to the medical assistance on site. As Mark put them down in front of the opened ambulance, a shattering noise rang throughout the commotion before it was followed by a screeching scream, the fallen window from the burning building heightening the hysteria instantly.
Mark sprang to his feet, about to go inside the building when a hand stopped him by the wrist.
“You’re not going in there are you?” Donghyuck stared at the hero with wide eyes, letting him know of the stupidity of his intention; but beneath the look of incredulity, the faint tremble of Donghyuck’s hand around Mark’s wrist was enough to let him know that he was scared.
But Mark had the responsibility to save. “I have to,” he softly says, his hand steady over the shaking hand, selfishly relieved that Donghyuck was safe. “There are still people inside.”
Mark had successfully removed the tight hold around his pulse before the younger could get another word out. As if to prove his last statement, a disheveled woman approached them — Spider-Man — her breaths labored as she failed to gather herself, pulling down the masked hero to her level as she began to beg in tears, “Spider-Man! My girl, please…! She’s– I don’t know if– God, please…” The mother stumbled on her words, unable to form a coherent sentence as her body shook in distraught and fear altogether. Mark carefully places his palms on the woman’s shoulders, webbed red hands anchoring her from the anxious storm she was currently feeling.
“Can you tell me what floor she is on?”
The woman tells him the location of the unit she and her daughter were staying in, lips wobbly as she fights another urge to break into another desperate cry. At a promise to get her out safely, he turned around to Donghyuck who had sat still. The fire beyond them dances dangerously within the younger’s eyes, a reminder for the both of them that the harsh flames have yet to be extinguished. Mark had to hurry.
“Go home, okay?” Mark softly says to Donghyuck as he takes a step back, readying himself to be engulfed by flames as he thinks of a way to get inside the apartment. He hears it being said to him before he leaves, ears catching on the whispered hope as he pivots on his heels before he swung himself swiftly through the windowless opening. He feels the warmth seeping into his suit, unforgiving; his breathing gradually becoming unstable as the stench of smoke found itself entering his system, making it harder to breathe with his mask on. A fire outbreak was the kind of disaster that was both cruel and terrifying. Spider-Man wasn’t exactly immune to such terrors; death was always waiting for him with each day he willingly throws himself to danger — but apart from the sworn duty to protect, was an unspoken promise to come home, no matter how fucked up his body or face might be.
“Use the door,” Donghyuck had said.
The huge fire that broke out near Donghyuck’s workplace was, like most cases, unexpected yet destructive all the same. He was getting ready to walk back home after delivering his shop’s last order for the day when the fire had appeared, like a bomb setting off with how much damage it had caused and how fast it had spread. Panic sat within him as he ran down the stairs with the rest of the residents when he saw a boy at the end of the hallway, crying out for his mother and surrounded by falling debris that had caught in flames. He doesn’t know what got into him to stray from the pushing crowd and make his way to the child who had already started coughing from the amount of smoke he had inhaled due to his crying, but Donghyuck knew as much that he couldn’t leave him there.
When he had gotten out, almost catching himself and the boy in his arms on fire a number of times as they made the seemingly endless path downstairs, Mark was the very first person he had seen. Of course he’ll be here. A wave of relief washes over him, nonetheless, happy to see someone so familiar — so grounding, amidst the hysteria. So, when the masked hero was fixed on diving into the flames, fear suddenly crept its way to Donghyuck’s throat once again, unsure if letting the hero go would be wise because he wasn’t exactly fireproof nor did his spider-like abilities give him a tolerance for fire. Still, underneath that fear was trust — that Mark will come back in one piece just like always, that he will come out victorious of today’s battles and will fight to see the next one. He trusted Mark to get people out, especially the daughter of the mother he had promised to. As Spider-Man, Donghyuck trusted him to save as many people as he was able. As Mark Lee, on the other hand, Donghyuck trusted him that he would be safe by the end of it all.
With that comes a stubborn declaration, a sealed promise made between them without having anything else to say aside from the silly, petty argument that they find themselves falling into all the time. Donghyuck knew that Mark had understood just as much. They expected each other that they would be where they wanted them to be.
That didn’t mean that his mind was already at ease. While Mark had faced formidable opponents and had been at Death’s mercy countless of times in the past, Donghyuck had never warmly welcomed the idea of it — it was the reason why he rarely watches the news, for fear of what it might report that involved the hero’s safety. It has never been easy for him, the thought and the reality of knowing.
Yet he waits.
Waiting was the only thing he could do at the end of each day, their first aid kit already ready for when it would be needed — because they always do, they would eventually need to treat some wounds regardless of Mark’s self-healing capabilities. For as long as they were roommates and for as long as he had known of the older’s secret, Donghyuck had learned a thing or two about medical aid, all because Mark had a saving complex who, more often than not, disregards himself.
So he waits in the living room, pacing back and forth as the noise from the television becomes subdued. He waits in their kitchen island, right leg bouncing up and down relentlessly and feeling a tad distressed as he turns his head back and forth to the window that he had left unlocked and to the door that wasn’t chained, hoping for a figure to emerge from it. When he couldn’t handle the perturbation anymore, he went up and continued to wait in his bed, sprawled listlessly in his sheets but unable to sleep — highly aware of the empty one beyond the room divider that they had set up. If Donghyuck’s mind wanders off, he could feel the heat from his arms to his legs until his lungs constrict; if he heeds into it, he could faintly smell the burning building that was near from theirs. He opens his phone a little after he regains his breathing, whispering to the air that he was not surrounded by flames and that the warmth that he had felt was the blanket thrown over him. He heavily sighs as he allows the blue light to paint his face and assault his eyes before he sees the latest update of the very mishap that he had barely come out of.
The fire had been snuffed out, leaving the building in a scalding state. Minor and major casualties for the residents and firemen who braved the scorching heat; no reported deaths; every inhabitant carried to safety — and Spider-Man coming into the scene, helping half of the trapped civilians out of the crumbling structure. Donghyuck feels as if something was removed out of his chest, because he could breathe easily again, tension that he had not realized finally slipping out of his body, making him sink into the mattress almost comfortably.
Donghyuck continued to wait, listening closely to their quiet apartment. He should be rolling in by now. Mark. The incident was three streets away from where they lived and Mark can easily avoid walking by swinging. But nothing came after another eternity (it had been 30 minutes according to his phone), and Donghyuck mindlessly shook his foot out of impatience, swallowing the anxiety that attempted to crawl out of his throat. Donghyuck knows Mark will come home — the news implied so, applauding him yet again for his bravado and dedication to keep the people of New York away from harm.
He remembers their first aid kit and tries to recall where he had placed it when he had gotten it out from their bathroom. Living room; on the coffee table. He thinks about the light that he had left on before he went upstairs — the tall lamp in their dining area, next to the low shelf where their record player sat. Donghyuck continues to lay there on his bed as he thought of everything else and nothing at all, still waiting for any sign of life to make its appearance in their still apartment.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed until he hears it.
A click of a lock.
Donghyuck blinks slowly at the ceiling before he sits up, leaving the bed to go down and greet his usual intruder. He feels the cold wood beneath his feet as he takes each step in a calm demeanor, as if his heart wasn’t about to jump out of his chest a while ago, waiting in bated breaths. He rounds the end of the staircase just in time to see Mark lightly close the door behind him, locking it and linking the chain as he did. He was wearing the same set of clothes before he had left this morning as opposed to his hero costume he comes home in every night. Donghyuck waits for him to notice him as he watches the hero take off his shoes and tuck it away with the rest of their footwear at the cabinet found in their foyer. When he finally turned around, his eyes immediately landed on Donghyuck who was still standing near the flight of steps.
Their entire apartment was dark, saved from the warm glow of the lamp that Donghyuck had left open — the light that came from it was enough to cast a dull gold on their faces. Mark sports him a smile, his face free from burns. Amidst the lack of light between them, Donghyuck could make out the smudged ashes on the masked hero’s face that were carelessly wiped off.
As he approaches the younger in stable steps, Mark opens with, “Are you okay?”
Donghyuck ignores the question and asks for himself. “What took you so long?” I was worried sick.
A rustle makes itself known between them as Mark lifts a plastic bag that the younger did not realize the hero came back with. “I almost forgot your chips,” he answers.
Donghyuck stares at him. “Chips,” he flatly repeats. Mark, the bastard, nods in confirmation.
“I watched you plunge yourself into the fire head first and you worried about my stupid chips?”
“Well,” Mark says thoughtfully. “You said your stash was almost out.”
The tanned younger could only gape at the other, his mouth opening and then closing dumbly, seemingly unable to speak from a whirlwind of emotions that he couldn’t decipher. He huffs in disbelief before he reaches over and harshly pulls the hero by the collar, catching Mark by surprise but lets himself be dragged to their dining table. Donghyuck pulls a chair out for the older one to sit on before he releases him, an evident crumple on his shirt from when Donghyuck fisted on the fabric. Mark watches in confusion as the younger retreats to the living room before he comes back with their first aid kit in hand.
“You seriously make me want to punch you,” he hears Donghyuck mutter under his breath as he pulls a chair out for himself, setting the kit on the table and opening it. “Take your shirt off. I need to check for burns and cuts,” he says, an evident frown on his face. Nevertheless, Mark complies, carefully discarding his shirt off his body — and true enough, he had gotten mild burns on his arms; the harsh red mark peeking out from behind his shoulder was enough for Donghyuck to know that the hero got himself a burn at the back as well. Luckily, they weren’t severe enough to permanently damage the skin but it was still concerning how much he acquired.
Donghyuck riffles through the medical box and takes out the ointment they have for treating burns. Despite the kitchen being his second home, the young cafe owner sometimes finds himself falling victim to accidentally touching scorching hot cookware without proper protection. So, the casualties tonight were somewhere within his area of expertise when it came to medical care. He squeezes out a decent amount of ointment before he starts with the red on his arms. Donghyuck could only imagine the number of tears and sears on the spider hero’s suit due to the fire.
“You should’ve gone straight home,” Donghyuck says, voice leveled as he continues to apply the gel on each burn.
“Sorry,” the hero replies, sincerely apologetic. “Were you–”
“I was worried.”
For everything that was worth, Donghyuck had meant to say it. It was neither a slip of the tongue or an attempt to get the older to stop talking — even if it did shocked him to the point that he was rendered speechless, Donghyuck wanted to let Mark know that he spent the rest of the time waiting and expecting, and that it almost pained him because the seconds and minutes had started to blur together with still no sign of Mark entering their shared space. Maybe it was because he had experienced it, or maybe because he had seen Mark in action, had watched him vanish into the fire leaving him questioning and bothered if he would come out of it — but Donghyuck knew. He had never wanted Mark to come back home safely this badly. His grave be damned because Donghyuck had chosen to blatantly admit to the hero about his worries.
He hears the smile in Mark’s words. “That’s a first.”
Donghyuck scoffs as he squeezes the small tube of ointment, continuing to tend to Mark’s burns. He found himself agreeing though, because the younger had never really voiced out his concerns with regards to the spider hero’s safety; but that didn’t mean that it went unnoticed.
“I always worry,” he says in a beat. Mark simply hums in acknowledgment because he already knows. On a normal evening, Mark would have teased the younger about it, and that Donghyuck would have already thrown a jab his way because, somehow, the younger always had to have the last word. On any other evening, Mark would probably have been smug about the admission — but tonight unexpectedly became an exception as they let each other talk in a careful manner, the events of earlier hanging around the air, embracing them and pushing them to be more open. Donghyuck may not admit it out loud that he was worried but Mark notices him — could tell by the subtle crease between his eyebrows and the feather-like touches whenever he treats the other’s wounds that tells him that he was being cautious to not inflict any more pain to the hero. Mark didn’t need words; Donghyuck’s actions were his telltale signs that he would always wait for the hero to return home in one piece.
Mark notices the pink that had settled on Donghyuck’s neck as it blossomed up to his cheek, and he almost chokes out a chuckle until he decides to divert their conversation to save his roommate from self-embarrassment.
“You didn’t answer my question earlier,” he starts, head slightly tilting to the side when Donghyuck had momentarily lifted his head before he returned to the burning red on his arms. “Are you okay?” He chides softly. “Were you hurt?”
Donghyuck stops what he was doing to look Mark in the eye as he reassures, “I'm fine, don’t worry.” — and his attention was back on the hero’s arms again. The memory of Donghyuck walking out of the building as it went down in flames was still rather fresh for Mark, the dread that tingled within his skin recurring as he thought about it. His eyes faintly roam some of the uncovered skin, looking for similar burns that the hero currently has. When Mark didn’t see anything, he couldn’t help but release a sigh of relief to which the younger raised his brow.
Mark clears his throat. “Why were you there?”
“We had a delivery,” Donghyuck simply explains.
Mark nodded in understanding, putting the puzzle pieces together. Donghyuck’s life has relatively been quiet; it changed when he became roommates with the hero, however. It wasn’t like he was closely knit with Mark’s heroic endeavors, no — it was rather related to what happens after. When Donghyuck had accidentally found out about Mark’s secret, the masked hero swore to himself that he will never have the younger involved with him within dangerous territories. He had made sure that the city was in order all while ensuring that the younger would be the farthest one out of harm’s reach. Mark knew it was not easy for the younger to be the bearer of the truth apart from himself but Donghyuck had accepted him, nonetheless; he didn't ask him and had wordlessly taken care of him because he also understood that it was a heavy burden to carry and so he supported the hero with whatever he can. Hence, Mark had done everything in his willpower to not put Donghyuck at risk. It was a simple give and take, one that was never voiced but had naturally come forth, building a relationship that was bound by trust.
So when he had arrived at the scene, mind naturally thinking that Donghyuck was already on his way back home, a certain wave of terror pins him to the ground when his initial thoughts have proven him wrong — because Donghyuck had been there in the fire, had also struggled for his life as he carried another one in his arms. And it was as if everything that Mark had firmly held onto almost slipped right out of his fingers.
“I was so scared when I saw you come out of that building,” Mark whispers, voice a tad rough at the edges that gives way to the vulnerability of the confession. His face grim as he frowned down at his hands that sat limply on his lap, thoughts going a mile per minute as doubts started to cloud his mind. If something happened while the younger was trying to escape, would he have still gotten out? Would Mark have to see him, save him, in a much dreadful state, then? What if he had gotten there a second more later, would he have been too late? Mark balls his hands into a tight fist as his thoughts progressively get worse.
Donghyuck was at the scene by mere coincidence. No one had intentionally tried to take him hostage nor attack him and yet Mark had never once felt fear until he saw Donghyuck at the near heart of danger — something that Mark had tried, and is still trying, to not let it entangle in his roommate’s life. Mark knows that Donghyuck was capable of protecting himself, he wasn’t a clear damsel in distress; and yet—
It scared him. God, it scared him more than he could admit.
Already drowning in his thoughts, a warm tanned hand was placidly placed on top of his own, pulling him out of his stupor. He squeezes Mark’s fist once before he runs a thumb along the knuckles, easing the tensed muscle until the hand opens. Mark welcomes the touch as he feels the younger’s fingers against his own. Donghyuck squeezes the hero’s hand pensively before he releases it, hand sliding against the skin until his thumb touches the other’s pulse. Mark copies the gesture, his own resting above Donghyuck’s heartbeat, feeling it gently thrum on his skin.
“Well, I’m still here,” the younger one whispers, eyes downcast at their linked hands. The sensation of each other’s heartbeat became a clear indication and a resounding reassurance that they are still breathing, and that they had come home after everything that had happened today. “You can’t really get rid of me that easily.”
Mark breathes out a chuckle at the statement, internally agreeing. Donghyuck leaves the pulse with a sheepish smile, letting his touch linger between Mark’s fingers before he finally lets go. “I’m known to be quite stubborn,” he follows right after, a bit too proud.
“Yeah, I know,” the hero concurs, hand tingling at the withdrawn touch. Donghyuck throws him an offended look as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you calling me stubborn?”
Mark shrugs. “You said it yourself.”
“Well, now that you agreed, I kinda feel like I’m not,” he scowls, eyebrows knitting together. Mark merely shakes his head, amused by the sudden change of opinion; and finding comfort at the natural shift to their usual banters.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“No, you’re ridiculous,” Donghyuck jabs, abruptly standing up from his chair, snatching the burn ointment along with him as he goes around Mark to now tend to the burning marks behind his back. “I can’t believe you thought of buying chips instead of going straight home where we could have treated your wounds much earlier.”
Really, Donghyuck was the nagging roommate between them. Mark chuckles at the light sermon, feeling the coolness of the gel as Donghyuck swipes a finger through the length of the wound. When the touch leaves, Mark tilts his head back to look at the younger, the face of the other upside down in his vision as he gives a bashful smile before shooting back, “But I did comply to your request. Does that mean you’ll give me my food privileges back?”
Donghyuck scoffs from behind him. “Like I’ll let you starve,” he retorts with a pout on his lips. Mark hums at the answer, satisfied and grateful all the same; but before he could straighten his posture, he remembers another thing.
“I went home through the door this time,” the hero follows, his eyes wide. Donghyuck swears the dark orbs that were staring at him so intently had sparkled under the dimmed lighting from the lamp — like a child entrapped in wonderment with how round his eyes had gotten. “Will that grant me anything?” He had asked, half expecting and half teasing. Mark knows that Donghyuck will say nothing, and will probably start an argument on how using the door should be the norm in their apartment; but instead of a verbal reply, Mark had received a rather strong flick on his forehead.
The hero yelps in surprise, eyes closing shut at the force as he tries to lean forward, hand automatically reaching to his forehead to soothe the pain. Before he could recover, however, Donghyuck had quickly grabbed a hold of his head, not letting the older one move from the way he was tilted back. Mark had thought that he would receive another flick when the younger promptly moved his bangs away, the grip on the back of his head unyielding — but rather than a snap of a finger, he felt soft lips landing on his forehead than the expected blow that he braced himself with. Mark’s round eyes met Donghyuck’s closed ones, blinking rapidly at the close proximity and also the sensation of the kiss on his forehead. He had barely processed what was happening when the other had pulled back, the intimate gesture burning more on his skin than the ones he had gotten from the incident.
Donghyuck peers down at him with a teasing smile, a hint of fondness behind it. Mark just stares back with his mouth wide open. “Don’t push your luck too much, spidey,” the younger chimes in finality before he proceeds to close their first aid kit.
For the following days, Mark had come back home using the door. If Donghyuck had felt pleased by the development, he didn’t say anything.
He still left a window unlocked every night though. And if Mark noticed the subtle deed, he had kept quiet about it. They both knew, anyway — they always did.