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The city was quiet for three whole days.
That alone should have made Yeonjun suspicious.
He stood on the edge of his apartment rooftop, hands braced on the railing, cape tugging restlessly in the wind. The skyline stretched out in front of him. Steel and glass and light, familiar in the way scars were familiar. He knew where everything was supposed to be. He knew the rhythm of this place.
And right now, the rhythm was wrong.
No alarms. No smoke. No unmistakeable flash of Beomgyu’s work blooming somewhere it shouldn’t.
Yeonjun told himself the tension in his chest was vigilance. That this was just a hero doing his job. He did not allow himself to feel like he was waiting.
The dinner replayed in his head against his will.
Beomgyu’s smirk. The way it softened when Taehyun teased them. The way his voice had dropped when they were alone, quieter and less sharp.
And you don’t hate me either.
Yeonjun groaned aloud and dragged a hand through his hair.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to the empty air.
Right on cue, the night split open with sound.
An explosion thundered several blocks east, heat rippling faintly even from where Yeonjun was standing. He didn’t hesitate. He launched himself forward, body moving on instinct long before his thoughts caught up.
As he flew, dread curled tight in his stomach.
<><><><>
Beomgyu didn't run.
Yeonjun landed on the rooftop overlooking the street and immediately knew something was wrong. The destruction below wasn’t clean. It wasn’t theatrical. Concrete was cracked outward instead of upward, debris scattered unevenly like something had gone through the street rather than detonated on it.
And there, in the middle of it all, stood Beomgyu.
No dramatic entrance. No manic laughter echoing off buildings.
Just Beomgyu, jacket torn at the shoulder, one hand pressed firmly against his side.
He looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a split second, Beomgyu looked genuinely surprised. Then his mouth curved into something tired and crooked.
“Oh,” he said. “You came.”
Yeonjun dropped down in front of him hard enough to crack the concrete. “What did you do?”
Beomgyu huffed out a weak laugh. “Missed you too.”
“You’re hurt,” Yeonjun snapped, and froze.
He hadn’t meant to say it like that.
Beomgyu noticed anyway. His eyes flicked down to where Yeonjun was staring, then back up. Something unreadable passed over his face.
“Relax,” he said lightly. “I’ve had worse.”
“Who did this?” Yeonjun demanded.
Before Beomgyu could answer, something massive hit the building behind them.
The impact shook the street. Glass shattered. A shockwave tore through the air, knocking Yeonjun half a step back.
Beomgyu swore. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s my cue.”
Sirens wailed in the distance as Beomgyu grabbed Yeonjun’s wrist. “Hero,” he said, voice suddenly sharp, serious in a way Yeonjun had never heard before. “If you want to save anyone tonight, you’re going to have to trust me.”
Yeonjun stared at their joined hands. Then at Beomgyu’s face, bloodied, defiant, and afraid in a way he didn’t bother hiding.
“Fine,” Yeonjun said.
Beomgyu squeezed his wrist once.
And then they ran.
They ducked into an underground transit tunnel just as another blast tore into the street above them. Dust rained down from the ceiling. The city groaned, wounded.
Beomgyu slid down the wall the moment they were out of sight, breath hitching. Yeonjun turned on him instantly.
“You’re injured,” Yeonjun said again, sharper now. “Sit still.”
“Wow,” Beomgyu said between breaths. “Bossy.”
Yeonjun ignored him, kneeling and assessing the damage. He had bruised ribs, definitely, internal bleeding, maybe. Not fatal. Not yet.
“Explain,” Yeonjun demanded. “Everything.”
Beomgyu closed his eyes briefly, then nodded. “There’s someone new. Calls himself Destructor, which, for the record, is a stupid name. Even more stupid than yours, Mr. Heroman. Who the hell came up with “Heroman” anyway? Cause I know it wasn’t you--”
“Beomgyu!”
“Sorry, sorry. Got off track. Destructor is power-obsessed and he has zero regard for collateral damage. He wants my tech and my strategies.”
“And you said no,” Yeonjun filled in.
Beomgyu laughed humorlessly. “I told him I work alone.”
Yeonjun absorbed that for a moment. “So this wasn’t you.”
“No,” Beomgyu said. Then, softer, “I don’t aim my destruction where people could get hurt. You know that.”
The words hung between them.
Yeonjun realized, with a strange jolt, that he did know that.
“...Why come to me?” Yeonjun asked.
Beomgyu looked up. “Because you’re the only one I know strong enough to stop him.”
“You trust me,” Yeonjun murmured.
Beomgyu held his gaze. “Yeah, I do.”
That admission felt heavier than any explosion.
<><><><>
Temporary alliances were supposed to be simple.
This wasn’t.
They commandeered an abandoned maintenance hub beneath the city and turned it into a makeshift base. Maps were spread across the floor and surveillance feeds flickered on stolen monitors, something Yeonjun absolutely scolded Beomgyu for. They argued about routes, choke points, and evacuation timing.
Yeonjun noticed Beomgyu got quieter when civilians were involved. More precise. More careful.
Beomgyu noticed that Yeonjun blamed himself for everything. Even the things he couldn’t control.
One night, after a narrow escape, Yeonjun cleaned a cut along Beomgyu’s ribs with hands that were steadier than his thoughts.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Beomgyu said.
Yeonjun paused. “What?”
“You do that,” Beomgyu said, watching him. “When you’re spiraling.”
Yeonjun scoffed. “Don’t psychoanalyze me.”
“Can’t help it,” Beomgyu replied. “I like knowing how you work.”
That sentence sat between them, dangerous and intimate. After a moment, Beomgyu added casually, “Taehyun asked about you.”
Yeonjun stiffened. “What did you tell him?”
“That you’re busy,” Beomgyu said. “With someone.”
Yeonjun’s heart stuttered. “That’s not--”
“I know,” Beomgyu said quickly. “Relax.”
But his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
And when Yeonjun finished bandaging him and pulled away, the absence of contact felt louder than any siren.
<><><><>
Yeonjun had never hesitated in a fight before.
Not like this.
He stood on the edge of a half-collapsed overpass, the city roaring beneath him, smoke curling into the night. Destructor’s energy signature pulsed somewhere ahead, volatile, violent, and unnervingly wrong. Every instinct screamed at him to move. To strike first. To end it.
Instead, Yeonjun glanced back.
Beomgyu crouched a few meters behind him, fingers dancing over a small device, brow furrowed in concentration. There was a smear of grease on his cheek and a tear in his glove Yeonjun hadn’t noticed before. He looked… human. Vulnerable in a way Yeonjun wasn’t used to seeing.
“You good?” Beomgyu asked without looking up.
Yeonjun swallowed. “You’re limping.”
Beomgyu snorted. “You noticed that but not the sniper drone?”
“Not my fault you tripped and distracted me.”
“I’m not used to these damn shoes!”
“Well we wouldn’t have this problem if you hadn’t blown up your other ones!”
“Oh my god, you’re so insufferable-- Yeonjun!”
Yeonjun spun instantly, taking a shot meant for Beomgyu with his shield. Metal screamed and sparks flew.
Beomgyu stared at him.
“...You didn’t have to do that,” Beomgyu said quietly.
“Yes,” Yeonjun replied, too fast. “I did.”
The admission settled heavy between them.
They finished the mission, but it was messy. Destructor escaped. Again. And the guilt gnawed at Yeonjun the entire way back to the underground hub.
He told himself it was because people were still in danger.
He could not let himself believe it was because the idea of Beomgyu getting hurt made his chest feel like it was caving in.
<><><><>
Beomgyu knew something was wrong.
Yeonjun had started pulling away, physically and emotionally. He stood further away during planning. He kept conversations clipped and professional. He kept looking at Beomgyu like he was a problem to be solved instead of a person.
Beomgyu hated it.
“You’re doing it again,” Beomgyu said one night, leaning back against a crate, arms crossed.
“Doing what?” Yeonjun asked without looking up.
“Building walls,” Beomgyu replied. “You’re great at them.”
Yeonjun’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t permanent.”
“I know,” Beomgyu said softly. “That’s the problem.”
The words slipped out before Beomgyu could stop them.
Yeonjun looked up sharply. “What?”
Beomgyu laughed, brittle. “Heroes don’t stay with villains, Yeonjun. We both know how this story goes.”
“You don’t know that,” Yeonjun snapped.
Beomgyu tilted his head. “Don’t I?”
Silence stretched, thick and painful.
“After this,” Beomgyu continued, voice quieter now, “you’ll do the right thing. And I… I’ll disappear. That’s what always happens.”
Yeonjun opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
And that hesitation hurt more than any injury ever could.
<><><><>
The night everything went wrong, it started with Taehyun.
Yeonjun froze mid-step when he heard his voice echo through the street.
“Yeonjun?”
He turned.
Taehyun stood at the edge of the evacuation zone, eyes wide, phone clenched in his hand. Smoke curled behind him. Sirens screamed.
“Oh no,” Yeonjun whispered.
Before he could react, Beomgyu was there. Too close, too fast.
“There aren’t supposed to be any civilians left!” Beomgyu said sharply.
“I know,” Yeonjun replied, panic spiking. “Taehyun, get back--”
Destructor struck.
The blast threw all three of them apart.
Yeonjun hit the ground hard, helmet cracking against concrete. His vision swam. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Taehyun scream.
Beomgyu screamed louder.
“YEONJUN!”
The name, his name, ripped something open.
Yeonjun pushed himself up just in time to see Beomgyu standing between Taehyun and Destructor’s next attack, arms spread, eyes blazing.
“Don’t touch him,” Beomgyu snarled. “You want me? Take me.”
Taehyun stared, horrified.
“...Beomgyu?” he whispered.
And suddenly, there were no masks left.
<><><><>
Destructor laughed.
“This is beautiful,” he said. “The hero’s heart, laid bare.”
Yeonjun didn’t think.
He moved.
He hit Destructor with everything he had. Strength fueled by terror, by love he had never meant to admit. The fight was brutal, reckless, and desperate.
And when Destructor went to Beomgyu…
Yeonjun stepped right in front of him.
The blast hit Yeonjun square in the chest.
The world went white.
He barely registered Beomgyu catching him as he fell. He felt hands shaking his shoulders, tears splashing onto his mask.
“No,” Beomgyu said, voice breaking. “No, no, no-- Yeonjun, please. Stay awake. Please. This wasn’t the plan. Stay with me, please!”
Yeonjun forced his eyes open.
“...You stayed,” he murmured.
Beomgyu laughed through sobs. “Of course I stayed, you idiot. I love you.”
The words shattered everything.
Yeonjun smiled, breathless and exhausted. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”
And then he blacked out.
<><><><>
Yeonjun woke to sunlight.
Real sunlight. Not filtered through smoke or dust.
Beomgyu was asleep in a chair beside the bed, head resting against the mattress, fingers still loosely curled around Yeonjun’s sleeve like he was afraid to let go.
Taehyun stood at the window, arms crossed.
“So,” Taehyun said without turning around. “Hero and villain, huh?”
Yeonjun winced. “You were… definitely not supposed to find out like that.”
Taehyun glanced back, eyes soft. “You saved my life.”
Beomgyu stirred, blinking awake. “...Morning,” he said cautiously.
Taehyun studied him for a long moment. Then smiled.
“Told you you’d be cute together.”
Yeonjun groaned.
Beomgyu laughed. And this time, it didn’t hurt.