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Blood pooled at the corner of Hanbin’s mouth – warm, metallic. He ran his tongue over it before tilting his head up to smile at the man whose gloved hand held his jaw in place.
Matthew had gotten stronger. Hanbin could feel it in each strike, in the ache blooming beneath his skin and the sharp sting of his split lip. If Hanbin were anyone else, he might have been concerned. But this was Matthew – heroic, golden, righteous – staring down at him. And Hanbin found the energy to smile.
He laughed, the sound straining against a wince. “Damn. You really don’t hold back anymore. When’d you get so good at this?”
Matthew said nothing. He stood there, chest rising and falling, his hand trembling where it pressed against Hanbin’s face in a vice grip. The golden energy pulsing around him stuttered, dimmed. His expression was a mess of things – anger, frustration, exhaustion.
Guilt.
Matthew always carried too much of that. Always hesitated. That was his biggest weakness.
Hanbin thought he’d never looked more beautiful.
The alley was quiet except for their breathing – Matthew’s ragged, Hanbin’s shallow. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. Too far away to matter.
“Your eyes do this thing when you’re angry. Anyone ever tell you that? They sparkle.” The words tumbled from Hanbin’s mouth, half-teasing, half-true.
Matthew’s jaw tightened, fingers pressing deeper into his skin.
His grin slipped – just for a second – before he dragged it back into place. “Careful,” he rasped, the word caught between tease and tension. “If you hold me any tighter, I might think you actually like touching me.”
“Shut up, Hanbin.” Matthew’s voice was low, sharp enough to cut through all the noise Hanbin threw up around himself. “Why do you keep doing this?”
Hanbin tilted his head back as far as the grip would allow, “What, this little dance?” He gestured vaguely between them with his free hand. “Oh, come on, Seokm-”
“Stop calling me that.”
Something inside Hanbin jolted – brief but unwanted. The words hit harder than any of Matthew’s punches. Not because they were cruel – Matthew wasn’t cruel. It was the way he said them.
Hanbin masked it with a crooked smile. “Funny. You used to like it when I called you that.”
Matthew’s shoulders tensed, “That was a long time ago.”
“You used to like me a long time ago too. Before you put on those goggles, before the speeches, before you decided to become a hero to protect the same people who–” He stopped himself, swallowed. “Well. You remember.”
Matthew flinched – barely, but Hanbin saw it. Felt the grip on his face loosen, just slightly.
Hanbin should’ve stopped then, before he sank his teeth any deeper into the wounds they both ignored.
But he didn’t.
Villains didn’t stop.
Villains pushed.
So Hanbin pushed.
“What’s wrong?” He dragged it out, let the question hang. Savoured the way Matthew’s eyes darkened. “Afraid I’ll get too close? Afraid you’ll remember what it felt like before all this?”
Matthew turned away sharply, jaw clenched, and Hanbin could almost see the thoughts moving behind his eyes – all the rage, pain, hesitation. But not about the fight. Not this fight.
Hanbin’s grin felt wrong on his face now.
He rolled his shoulders, gasping slightly as pain settled into his joints. But the grin stayed. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like seeing me like this.” He stretched his arms out, showing off the bruises on his ribs, the blood staining the side of his face. “Rough. Beaten. On my knees in front of you–”
“Enough.”
Hanbin let his head fall against Matthew’s palm, felt the leather warm against his skin. “Go on, then.” His smirk stretched wider. “Finish it.”
But Matthew didn’t. He never did.
“You could’ve killed me tonight,” Hanbin’s voice dropped, lost some of its edge. “Why didn’t you?”
Matthew swallowed hard, eyes flickering away. “You know why.”
“Do I? Because you never kill me. Even when you have the chance to. And me? I never kill you either.”
“And why is that? You tell me.” Matthew challenged, flipping it back on him, finally getting in his say.
Hanbin paused.
“Because I like knowing.” The words barely made it past his lips. His fingers found Matthew’s wrist. Not pushing him away – holding him there.
“Know what?”
Hanbin didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Because the truth was pathetic and dangerous – that every fight was an excuse. Every taunt, every provocation, every game – all of it were just excuses. To make sure Matthew would keep showing up. Keep looking at him like this, furious and tired and still here. To prove, again and again, that Matthew still cared.
The admission tried to claw its way out. Hanbin shoved it back down, hid it behind a front.
He retreated back into his persona, manufactured a laugh that came out too breathy. “Ah, well. Looks like you’ll have to keep guessing.” The lightness in his voice was brittle. “Sounds like a ‘you’ problem, honestly.”
Seemed like they both weren’t answering anything real tonight.
Hanbin’s legs were starting to shake from holding this position, knees pressed against broken asphalt. He didn’t move.
Neither did Matthew.
“You need to stop, Hanbin.”
“And ruin our little routine? You’d miss me.” Hanbin’s voice was almost playful, eyes gleaming despite the blood trickling down his cheek. “Besides, you stopped me in the end, didn’t you? You won.”
“That’s not–” Matthew breathed in hard through his nose, cutting himself off. His brows pulled together, and Hanbin hated that expression – the one that meant Matthew was thinking too much.
“Not the victory you wanted, huh?”
Matthew’s eyes burned into his. “I never wanted to fight you in the first place.”
“No? Then why do you always come running? Maybe that’s the difference between us. Because I always look forward to fighting you.”
Matthew didn’t answer.
“And you know…” Hanbin swallowed. “You’ve got this way of looking at me like you hate me. But there’s–”
“You’re damn right, I do. I hate this.” Matthew’s voice cut him off with venom, threaded with something close to desperation. “I hate you for making me feel like this. Every single time.”
Hanbin should’ve mocked him. Should’ve played into it and twisted the knife deeper, solidify his role as the villain in Matthew’s story. But his throat closed around the sound, and he looked away.
“Then stop,” he said.
“What?”
“If you hate me so much, then just– turn it off. Stop caring.” He leaned in, close enough that Matthew would feel the warmth of his breath. “Stop showing up. Stop looking at me like that. Easier for both of us, don’t you think?”
Matthew stared at him silently, expression unreadable. Then he faltered.
It should’ve felt like winning. But it just made Hanbin’s stomach drop. Because now he wished... he wished he hadn’t said anything at all.
Because he saw it – the exhaustion in Matthew’s eyes, the weight dragging at his shoulders, the way his golden glow wasn’t quite as bright as it used to be.
He was getting tired. Not just of the fight.
Of Hanbin.
One day Matthew would leave, walk away. And Hanbin would call after him like he always did – would bleed and grin and taunt and beg.
And Matthew wouldn’t turn back anymore. Wouldn’t come back.
That scared him more than anything.
So Hanbin did what he always did. He ran.
He wrenched himself free – stumbled back, putting space between them. Matthew didn’t follow. Didn’t try to stop him. The hero wouldn’t kill him. Not today.
And as long as that was true, Hanbin still had time.
He turned, one last look over his shoulder. “See you around, hero.” The words came out softer than he meant them to.
Then he turned on his heel, slipping into the shadows before the quiet could crush him.
Before Matthew could see that he was scared.
Because villains didn’t get to be afraid.
And Hanbin couldn’t afford to be forgotten.