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Kiin doesn’t do stupid things.
He doesn’t commit any crimes. He doesn’t linger around baristas for too long so they know he doesn’t want to engage in a conversation. He pays his phone bill on time and has a decent credit score. He isn’t stupid.
He isn’t addicted to anything—no vices and a clean health bill. He doesn’t stay over at his friend’s place for too long either because his stupid hyung will pour a glass of alcohol once it gets past a certain point in the night, and a whole bunch of stupid things will follow that.
All in all, Kiin likes to think he’s pretty well-versed in his own sense of self-preservation.
He’s honest where it counts. He never misses a day of work. He tries his best when he needs to. He’s gotten himself this far in life already, so it should say something to his credibility.
He is also dating Spiderman.
Kiin wonders where it went wrong.
Jihoon is strange.
Jihoon was strange to begin with, actually, way before they started dating and probably before he practically body-slammed into him that fateful night.
I gently bumped into you! Kiin hears the whiny voice of his boyfriend echoing in his head. He doesn’t like the way Kiin explains the story of how they met, but Kiin is adamant that the truth is properly told.
It happens like this: Sunday evening, sitting on his fire escape, Kiin spooning ice cream into his mouth like he’s the main character of a cliche romcom that just got his heart broken by the other lead.
In reality, it’s a lot less heartbreak and a lot more moping. Maybe mourning? He (half) jokingly mentioned in the group chat that he was going to delete his LOL account after going on an eight-game losing streak, and Boseong—being the absolute angel of a friend he was—dropped off ice cream with Woochan hanging off his back, asking if he needed to pull out a smurf account to play with Kiin now.
He properly appreciates the kindness shown by his friend, and then plots the death of his other friend in his head as he stares at the sun melting into the horizon.
For a while, it’s nice. Indulging in a tub of vanilla creaminess, letting his thoughts take him wherever, as relaxation seeps deep into his bones.
That is, until, of course, a body drops in front of him. A red latex-wearing person who almost crashes into him as it tries to find footing.
Kiin screams, obviously, as one does when you blink and there’s suddenly a grown ass man being haloed by the sunset in your line of view. Spiderman screamed too, and now that Kiin is thinking about it, that made no sense when he was the one invading his personal space.
The rest is a bunch of complicated history that Kiin refuses to think about.
Point is? Jihoon slammed into him at their first meeting.
And he’s weird.
Though he does exaggerate some parts and straight up makes up others. And maybe the actual story he tells people makes Jihoon look more insane than he actually is.
In Kiin’s defence, there’s the whole ‘your boyfriend is a globally known superhero and you’re supposed to keep it a secret’ thing, so any fib should be fair game. As long as Kiin is happy and Jihoon’s secret is safe, Jihoon should support him endlessly, no matter what.
So yeah. He was strange to start with. But Kiin supposes he has to be a little strange too, falling in love with Jihoon after all that. But that’s neither here nor there.
He tells people Jihoon is strange, and Jihoon whines about defamation and nonsense, but it doesn’t matter.
Because Kiin, after three years and counting of dating Jihoon, has proof.
Exhibit A: Not using doors.
Kiin figures he should’ve expected this when he literally met Jihoon on his fire escape.
What he didn’t expect at the time, was the continued meeting on his fire escape, which then turned into requesting that Kiin leave his window open so he could get into Kiin’s apartment that way instead.
Naturally, his first answer was a firm no.
Kiin could think of ten reasons and more on why he shouldn’t do something like that, and Jihoon took none of it seriously.
Because why would he? Even back then, Jihoon was keen on bothering him every chance he got, and all Kiin-hyung, please please please? I won’t ask for anything else, just this. Please?
He does end up asking for more things in later months, and Kiin makes sure to remind him every chance he gets.
Though it doesn’t really matter. In the end, Jihoon still managed to convince him.
And by convincing him, Jihoon just sat outside Kiin’s window regardless of whether the window was open or not—sometimes in silence, sometimes blabbering to himself about what he did that day—until Kiin got fed up and started letting him in more often than not.
Leaving his window open was just a habit now. They worked out some ground rules too. If the curtains were closed, wait until the curtains were open before coming in. If the curtains were open, any time of the day was fair game.
But still, the window?
Oddly enough, it makes Jihoon more cat-like than spider-like, slinking in and out as he pleases without so much as a sound. A little counterintuitive, Kiin thinks, considering his title is Spiderman, but Jihoon would just say something about challenging societal expectations if Kiin ever brought anything like that up.
So he keeps his mouth shut about Jihoon’s (rather endless) cat-like tendencies, and properly asks him about the window thing instead.
“Well if I walk through the hallways and get on the elevator in my suit people are just going to stop me and ask questions and it’s going to take up so much of my time,” Jihoon says all at once in one breath, all while chewing the takeout fried chicken they are sharing in his kitchen.
Kiin scrunches his nose at that. All of that.
It makes sense in a way? Kiin doesn’t forget that Jihoon’s identity is supposed to be a secret, but he never really thought about how identity-exposing it’d be if Spiderman were seen knocking on his door.
He’s saving Kiin a lot of explaining to do too, so maybe he should be giving Jihoon more credit here. He definitely won’t, but he’ll entertain the thought regardless.
“Plus, I’m already swinging around from rooftop to rooftop. Stopping at your window is the fastest route home,” Jihoon adds, chicken finally swallowed and voice a lot clearer.
“Why don’t you just change out of your suit first?” Kiin asks.
This time, Jihoon is scrunching his nose. “Why would I do that? You’re going to leave the window open for me anyway.”
Kiin stares Jihoon dead in the eye, completely unimpressed. Jihoon meets the challenge with a twinkle in his eye.
“I could stop.”
“But you won’t,” Jihoon quips back.
Kiin thinks about it for a second, and he doesn’t even get the chance to double down because Jihoon must sense his intentions telepathically by the way a brief look of horror crosses his smug face. Suddenly, he’s whining and huffing, and, “How could you treat your own boyfriend like that, Kiin-hyung!? There’s no way you’re actually considering it. You’d be that cruel? Are you cruel, Kiin-hyung?”
“What’s cruel is you talking my ears off!”
“But Kiiiiiin-hyuuuung.”
Kiin doesn’t deem Jihoon a proper response after that and just takes a bite of fried chicken while rolling his eyes.
Because it’s not like Jihoon doesn’t know why Kiin wasn’t exactly keen on leaving his windows open—especially at night.
His room gets too cold, especially in the colder seasons. It makes Kiin’s joints all stiff and adds to the already existing challenges of getting up for work in the morning. Having the window open risks bugs getting into his space too, even if he doesn’t mind releasing them back out.
And it makes him a little anxious, even if Kiin doesn’t like to admit it.
Not because of a potential home invasion. If anyone is climbing sixteen stairs’ worth of fire escapes to rob him, Kiin is just letting it happen.
It’s more Jihoon-related, as most of his worries are (unfortunately).
Hearing the wind outside just means that Jihoon isn’t home yet. Having the window open means that Jihoon hasn’t stepped through and shut it behind him. Every minute passing is another minute of Jihoon being Spiderman, and while Kiin doesn’t know what kind of patrol he really does, it can’t be smooth all the time.
Still, Kiin can’t find it in himself to complain when the quiet patter of footsteps is heard outside, and Jihoon swings into his room with his mask already hanging off his fingers.
He can’t complain when he mentally sighs in relief, knowing Jihoon is shimmying out of his suit and into his pyjamas already neatly placed on the desk by someone Kiin doesn’t want to share with the rest of the class.
He really can’t complain when Jihoon finally slips into bed, pulling Kiin towards him until his back is flush to his chest while he gets comfortable too. Jihoon’s breath hits Kiin’s ear on purpose, and he shivers and relaxes into Jihoon’s hold.
Kiin does complain, actually, but most of his days end like this anyway—warm, cozy, and tucked under Jihoon's chin—so Kiin chooses to save his breath instead.
Exhibit B: Whatever is happening right now.
Kiin doesn’t even know where to begin with this one. It’s not even the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last, even if Kiin has expressed his complaints (re: concerns?) on multiple occasions.
It’s just—
It’s really not that absurd for anyone to come to this kind of conclusion.
Showing up in people’s living rooms looking severely injured should come with some kind of warning. Right? Surely.
It feels a bit like common sense.
If Kiin went anywhere with a third of his own blood on his clothes, it’d probably scare the shit out of everyone who saw him. Probably because he would be dead if his clothes were soaked with that much blood, but that’s not the point.
Because at the very least, it’d be very inconsiderate to just randomly show up at places with blood all over your body—and to top it all off, an air of casualness that’s usually reserved for walks in the park or looking at produce in the grocery store.
Jihoon just doesn’t care.
Maybe he does? Kiin can’t tell with the beaming grin on Jihoon’s face.
“Kiin-hyung, I’m home!”
There’s a brief blip in Kiin’s thoughts when Jihoon enters his line of sight. This evening had started off normal enough, with Kiin making dinner for both of them after Jihoon texted back i’m onmy way home rn! :D a few minutes ago. For those few and short minutes, Kiin knew peace and the smell of chapagetti.
Of course, everything shattered after Jihoon walked out of his bedroom—pressumably having taken the window route once again—with blood drying on his forehead and the tattered sleeves showing even more dried blood.
How. How and why.
“Jihoon-ah.” Kiin hopes his voice comes out as level as he wants it to be. “Why do you look like that?” The word again goes unsaid.
Jihoon tilts his head, as if he’s confused why Kiin would ever even ask such a thing. As if Kiin is seeing things and his boyfriend hasn’t, miraculously enough, stained his red suit red. Kiin is getting lightheaded, and he isn’t sure if it’s from the shock or a sudden spike in his blood pressure.
“Oh, the blood?” Yes! Yes, the blood!? Obviously the blood!!?? “It’s not mine. Oh, except the blood on my head. But it doesn’t hurt anymore ‘cause of the supernatural healing, so don’t worry about anything.”
Too much to unpack in one sentence once again, but Kiin’s stupid brain fixates on the one thing that he can properly make sense of before he can even filter his words.
“I’m not worried?” Kiin snaps back defensively.
“You look worried,” Jihoon points out.
And Kiin supposes he does. He’s gripping the chopsticks in his hand so hard it’s starting to hurt his palm, and his face is already making complicated expressions that call him out on his lie. The sensation of pain and integrity of his words is very much the least of his concerns. Jihoon. It’s always Jihoon.
“How could I not be worried?” Kiin fumes. “You just suddenly show up covered in blood, and I’m supposed to think, oh, average Tuesday? Obviously I’m worried!?”
Jihoon frowns, and it’s the first negative emotion Kiin’s seen cross his face since he got home. Kiin feels something in him die a little, but he has to get his point across.
“Kiinie-hyung.” Jihoon pouts, eyes shifting around between Kiin and the area behind him.
It’s the genuine kind of pout that Kiin differentiates from the pouts that Jihoon puts on just to get what he wants. It’s not that. Not this time, at least. He can tell Jihoon actually feels a bit guilty.
Kiin bites down a groan and pinches the spot between his eyebrows.
“Just.” Kiin puts down the chopsticks in his hand as gracefully as he can (there is no grace involved). “Go sit. Please.”
Kiin turns away, not bothering to see if Jihoon will actually listen to him, and makes quick work of grabbing the first aid kit stashed inside one of the kitchen drawers. Though he does manage to hear quiet footsteps through the buzz of his own thoughts, and when he finally straightens back up and makes his way to Jihoon, he’s already seated on the couch.
He grumbles some more, of course. Some I can’t believe you’s and You exist just to give me migraines and near heart-attacks, all while dipping the gauze into the rubbing alcohol and using tweezers to lightly dab at Jihoon’s forehead.
Otherwise, it’s mostly silent after Kiin focuses up. The hero is surprisingly quiet too. Jihoon huffs lightly at the alcohol brushing over his still-open wounds, but that’s it.
Kiin ends up filling in the noise in his own head with nervous thoughts as he grabs another piece of gauze.
He should probably ask how Jihoon is feeling, right? If he were truly hurt, he would never admit it. He knows after the first and last couple of times of doing this. Kiin hates that about Jihoon—how he’s always carrying himself upright no matter what happens to him. He should really lose some of the calm that surrounds him, but Kiin would hate that too.
Maybe it was too late to ask questions anyway. Kiin had yelled at him before showing any real concern. Kiin wouldn’t want to tell himself anything either. He’s okay with it. Not really. It’s a bad habit—but at least he gets to clean Jihoon up and inspect him a little further, even if his usually chatty superhero hasn’t said a word since he’s sat down.
Kiin’s eyebrows furrow deeper as he aims to clean up the dried blood that had already trickled down Jihoon’s temple, but this time, he doesn’t get to fully pull away to change the dirty gauze.
Jihoon catches his wrist and slides up to cover Kiin’s hand with his own.
Confusion colours Kiin’s face, blinking slowly, as the other stares back with the pout from earlier still lingering on his lips.
He lets Jihoon fold his hand into his. It’s a little awkward, considering he’s still holding the tweezers, but he lets Jihoon do what he wants.
“I’m sorry.”
“What?” Kiin frowns. “Why?”
Jihoon wilts a little, shoulders curling in with a forlorn kind of look on his face.
“I really didn’t mean to worry you again. You shouldn’t have to worry,” Jihoon mumbles, smoothing his fingers over Kiin’s knuckles. “I should’ve cleaned myself up before I got home. Now your noodles are drying up on the stove, and you’re shaking because of me.”
Kiin slowly blinks again, staring at Jihoon’s eyes through the curtain of bangs that covers them.
Huh.
He didn’t even know he was shaking until Jihoon pointed it out.
Is that why he grabbed his hand and is still holding onto it like a lifeline? Kiin feels his face burn a little in embarrassment, even if there isn’t anything to really be embarrassed about. He’s still more irritated than anything else, but it’s starting to warm over.
That, and maybe he’s a lot less irritated than he acts. It’s easier to mask the exasperated yet fond feelings he has towards Jihoon with quiet glares, but Kiin knows well that there’s affection hidden underneath it all.
He should really try and remind Jihoon more often. Stupid boyfriend and all.
“Jihoonie.” Kiin sighs, waiting for Jihoon to raise his head before continuing.
He does after a couple of hesitant seconds, now chewing his bottom lip in a way that Kiin knows he’d be straight up picking at instead if he had access to his hands. Kiin just sighs again.
“You will worry me regardless of anything you do,” Kiin insists, ignoring the way Jihoon subtly flinches, “You’re my boyfriend. My superhero boyfriend, for god’s sake. I worry because I do. Got it? Not because you’re making me worry or something like that.”
Jihoon unfurls at that, straightening up by a fraction and staring at Kiin with wide eyes filled with shiny bits and devotion. It’s a little overwhelming—it always is—but enough for Kiin to feel relieved.
“I’m fine, really, Kiin-hyung.”
Jihoon's grin comes back to life, and he ends up pulling Kiin’s hand towards his lips before Kiin can realize what he’s doing. The redness in his face returns in full force, feeling Jihoon’s gentle kiss brush the back of his hand once, twice, and a third time before Kiin thinks his heart is going to beat out of his chest.
“Stop,” Kiin weakly protests, trying to shake Jihoon’s hand off so he can’t do it again.
Jihoon just laughs, head knocking back, and Kiin’s shoulders relax too. It’s enough.
Exhibit C. Getting targeted by your heroic boyfriend’s enemies.
This one is still a work in progress. Kiin doesn’t know what to name it, but it’s the best he can think of as his migraine grows stronger every minute he stands in this room.
“I don’t know who Spiderman is,” Kiin replies, neutral and irritated as the villain refuses to move out of his living room.
And also kind of scared? Because Kiin is like triple sure that he locked all his doors and windows (Jihoon was already inside), and he let no one into the apartment earlier. His life might be in danger. He isn’t too sure about it yet.
The red-cape-wearing villain (still in quotation marks in Kiin’s head) sits on his couch like he’s been here before, entirely too comfortable. It does nothing beneficial to Kiin’s mental state.
“Kiinie, shut up. I know Jihoon is in your room putting on his suit,” the villain-bastard-whatever says as he picks at his nails. It’s done with so much nonchalance that it’s definitely starting to irritate Kiin more than his presence scares him.
Because like—
No seriously. How did he even get in? How does he know Jihoon’s real name? How does he know his name? Should Kiin be more scared than he is right now?
The baseball bat sits very close in the shoe closet, just three or four steps away from Kiin. He doesn’t trust himself that much to actually land a hit, but at least it’d distract the weird one for long enough so that Kiin can—
“Jaehyuk, what the fuck are you still doing here?”
What.
“Hello? Evil alien about to split the Earth in half outside? Get off your fat ass already.”
What.
He must say this out loud, because hovering outside his window—hovering, because the only flat ground at this height is his fire escape that connects to his room—is a face that looks incredibly like Son Siwoo, who is looking directly at him.
His most detested (good) enemy (friend) Son Siwoo.
Except, is it really Son Siwoo, or is it just an uncanny replica of Son Siwoo’s face twisted in a shit-eating grin under a helmet, wearing a red suit made out of metal with rockets attached to the base of his hands and feet holding him up sixteen floors in the sky?
It looks like he wants to tell Kiin something by the way his mouth opens, and for once, Kiin desperately wants to hear Siwoo’s ear-grating voice. Yes, any explanation would be nice. What the fuck is happening?
Instead, Jaehyuk groans out loud and sinks deeper into the couch, interrupting what Siwoo was going to say. He looks very unconcerned at Floating-Siwoo’s very concerning words.
“Jihoon is still getting ready,” Jaehyuk grumbles. “He’s going to get lost, and then it’ll be my fault again that he shows up to the fight late!”
Siwoo scoffs, voice somehow insanely clear despite the thick piece of wall and window between them. “You’re just mad he did the final blow and stole your glory last time.”
Should Kiin mention again that there are also very real rockets holding Siwoo up, and still Kiin can hear everything Siwoo is saying as if he’s standing right next to him?
”Well, no. Jihoon is a slimy glory stealer regardless of whether he’s late or not.”
The evil voice in the back of Kiin’s head defends Jihoon against the cape-wearing bastard. If he’s doing the last hit on any enemy slash monster, then he probably deserves it more than anyone else.
Also, he’s desperately trying to cling to anything that resembles a familiar idea. Jihoon doing Jihoon things temporarily stabilizes the whirlwind that is his thoughts, and then any sense of stability is promptly broken by what he witnesses next.
Jaehyuk finally stands, paired with a whole jumble of unkind swear words, and waves his hand in a circle. A portal shows up in his fucking living room—Kiin briefly feels the outside wind hitting his face—and Siwoo is able to fly through, completely bypassing the thick glass that previously separated them. The rockets attached to Siwoo’s suit turn off so he can properly stand and not scorch his floor.
“Kiinie. Fancy seeing you here,” Siwoo hums. “I didn’t know Jihoonie lived with you.” The amused grin on his face is sharper up close.
Kiin is going to throw up.
Except he doesn't, because Jihoon, with his impeccable timing, finally shows up in the living room, mask half on as he rolls his wrists.
“I told you guys to wait outside,” Jihoon huffs, all prickly and irritated, “Stop bothering Kiin-hyung.”
“Jaehyuk started it.”
“Bastard—“
“Ahh, don’t start.” Jihoon protests loudly as his hands come up—as if that could physically stop their words. “Arguing in front of the baby damages their emotional well-being. Do you want me to be insecure and stressed?”
Jaehyuk just pulls a face. “Yuck. Stop saying things that imply Siwoo and I are your parents.”
Siwoo, however, replies in such classic Siwoo fashion that any doubts that this was a dream are immediately dispelled from Kiin’s head. “Awww Jihoonie,” Siwoo cackles, “Does baby need mama’s soothing hug? A kissy wissy? Tummy time?”
Yeah, that’s it. Kiin is reaching his limit.
“Everyone out of my apartment now,” Kiin seethes.
Jihoon must sense the disproportionate amount of rage that has accumulated in Kiin’s body, because he’s quick to start shooing Jaehyuk and Siwoo out. Jaehyuk rolls his eyes but creates the portal out anyway with casual movements, and Siwoo is still laughing.
His view of the portal this time is blocked by Jihoon stepping in front of him, and if he’s amused by the way Kiin’s eyes are practically bulging out of their sockets in shock, he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, he gently cups Kiin’s face and presses a quick kiss onto Kiin’s lips. And hovers for half a second, before kissing him one more time.
Kiin is seriously going to get a heart attack one of these days.
“Jihoon-ah—“
“I’ll explain everything when I get back,” Jihoon says, a sheepish and rare apologetic expression on his face. He squishes Kiin’s cheeks together and takes a step back to join the rest of the heroes.
Kiin’s arms twitch from where they’ve been resting by his side.
The irrational part of his brain wants to pull Jihoon back, somehow convince him not to go off on whatever mission he’s appointed to by Iron Man and Doctor Strange themselves (yes, he finally figured it out after the portals).
He doesn’t though. He may be a little strange and a little stupid, but he’s not selfish.
He knows Jihoon has important things to do, and he can see impatience and urgency start to bleed into Jaehyuk and Siwoo’s expressions, no matter how cheerful the latter looks all the time.
“Kiinie! Brunch next week, ‘kay?” Siwoo calls out before hopping through the portal and into what looks like a jungle.
Jaehyuk doesn’t say anything, but nods at Kiin as he follows Siwoo through.
Finally, Jihoon properly pulls down his mask so his suit is flush with his skin. He blows a dramatic kiss to Kiin, waves enthusiastically, and webs onto something out of sight before he swings away.
The portal fizzles into nothing, and then there’s Kiin, the rightful owner of the apartment, finally left alone in the apartment. There’s a stray leaf left on his floorboards, and Kiin can’t help but laugh in incredulity.
God. He is never going to get used to how weird it is to date Spiderman.
Jihoon doesn’t get back home for the next three days.
It was bad at first. Belatedly realizing that Jihoon was going off on some sort of mission with some of the most influential superheroes did horrible things to his psyche for two hours. It didn’t help that Kiin, a normal and plain civilian, wasn’t allowed to know anything either.
Then, it became not so bad.
Only because Kiin started getting updates on Jihoon’s whereabouts through Siwoo sending wild videos and photos of either Jihoon or Jaehyuk hopping around and flinging villains into different countries.
So much for being a normal and plain civilian.
It’s a little nauseating at first. Some of the videos conveniently cut off right when Jihoon is being attacked, and then funny, and then Kiin gets critical over why Jihoon is spending so much time playing with his enemies instead of just finishing them off normally so he doesn’t waste time. Doesn’t he have places to be with more villains to defeat?
“What’s the point of being a superhero if I don't get to have fun?” Jihoon whines.
“You’re a superhero to save the world,” Kiin answers, glaring at Jihoon for asking such a stupid question.
Jihoon shakes his head in disagreement. “That’s just a bonus to being a superhero. It’s more about hype moments and aura, as Siwoo-hyung would say.”
Of course. There’s another reason why Kiin will forever hate Son Siwoo.
Kiin grumbles, stuffing his head into the crook of Jihoon’s shoulder, as if doing so could physically block out the nonsense coming out of Jihoon’s mouth. Kiin isn’t sure if Jihoon knows why he snuggles closer, but acts receptively to it anyway—a little too receptively even.
Warm hands that were previously carding through his hair now find home around Kiin’s waist, making sure he doesn’t inch away. As if that thought had even crossed Kiin’s mind. He’s perfectly content with letting the afternoon slip away between their fingers. It’s not like he has anything better to do anyway.
It doesn’t mean Kiin won’t be the pessimistic person he’s always been, though. Briefly, he wonders how long they’ll have this moment for. Jihoon is a superhero after all, who needs to do superhero things, who needs to drop everything and anything at a moment's notice to save the world.
Kiin would be the last person to hold him back. Jihoon has responsibilities. So does Kiin, being Spiderman’s boyfriend. He makes sure Jihoon gets to fulfill those responsibilities and gives him a place to forget about those responsibilities too.
He didn’t ask for those. In the grand scheme of life accomplishments the normal non-stupid person is supposed to meet, Kiin doesn’t think those are checkmarks.
Really, if Kiin truly had better self-preservation, maybe he’d date someone who’s an average citizen just like him.
Well—
Jihoon nuzzles into the top of Kiin’s head, and Kiin sighs along with the action. It’s nice here, lying on top of Jihoon’s body on his couch.
It’s basically theirs now, with how Jihoon basically moved in permanently after their second year together. Convenience, or stupidity, or maybe Kiin is just as insane as Jihoon is.
—it’s too bad he doesn’t, he supposes.