Archive of Our Own

“Aww fuck, just had a nosebleed.” 

Beomgyu huffs out a laugh at the irritated groan Soobin lets out next, and bends down to place his pots back into the cabinet. 

“You good? Is it serious?” 

A dramatic gasp floats through his speaker where his phone is left on the counter, followed by a loud cry. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, I stained the carpet. It’s new—and it’s white—oh my god, Taehyun’s going to kill me. What do I do? It’s two droplets, but— fuck—it’s a white carpet.” 

“Calm down. Wipe your nose first.” 

“I can’t be calm!” Soobin, type B to the core, nonchalance personified, shrieks through the phone, “This carpet is two days old! I promised Taehyun I wouldn’t stain it for a month!”

The switch up from his usual easy-going personality has Beomgyu barking out a laugh—only Soobin’s husband could ever invoke such a response, “Get some hydrogen peroxide on the stain immediately and do not dilute it with water.”

“Hydrogen peroxide?”

“You should— Do you have it at home? Don't let it sit for more than five to ten minutes by the way, and make sure to wash it out well. It can strip your carpet of its colour if you are not careful. I know the carpet is white, but there is no harm in being cautious.”

There’s a pause before he hears the sound of hurried footsteps through the speaker, followed by the sounds of cupboards opening. Soobin swears. 

“I don’t have hydrogen peroxide at home.” 

“I do,” Beomgyu stacks his tupperwares, head jerking towards the cabinet under the sink as if Soobin can see him, “Want some?”

Soobin whines, “But Taehyunnie will be home in half an hour. I doubt I can make it to yours in time.”

“Then get him to buy the peroxide on his way home. Relax, I don’t think Taehyun’s the kind to be mad over something like this. It’s a nosebleed, not like you spilled something like, curry, or chili.” Beomgyu pauses to toss the cleaned Tupperware overhead into the cabinet above him, organisation be damned. There used to be someone taller to do it for him but— nevermind. 

A sigh floats through the speaker, “You’re right.”

“You’ll both have to act fast, though. Blood stains if you leave it too long.” 

“Shit— right, okay. I’m going to text him now. Thank you, love you. What would I do without you?” Soobin rambles, words tumbling out of him in rapid fire succession, “Why do you even know so much about cleaning blood out of the carpets?” 

A bitter laugh makes its way out of Beomgyu’s throat. He clears them, suddenly dry, and swallows the lump that threatens to form, “Had my fair share of nosebleeds too.” 

“But you’ve never gotten one.”

“My dad.” Beomgyu lies easily. 

There are many things Choi Beomgyu, a mere salaried worker with a degree in Business Administration, living in South Korea, should not know. 

Like how to wash blood cleanly off his carpets, leaving them spotless and stain-free. How to properly toss out bits of bloodied flesh and strip surfaces clean of any DNA traces. How to extract bullets, realign broken bones and cauterise wounds. 

But he knows. Knows how to remove blood and fluids that have seeped through the floorboards too, but Soobin wouldn’t need that tip for two mere drops. That’s usually reserved for cases where you have someone bleeding out on your bedroom floor. 

“Oh… your dad… Is he still having them frequently?”

Beomgyu drags the white storage container he bought earlier this afternoon towards the cabinet under the sink, wincing when it clangs loudly against the wooden panels. With a sigh, he opens the cabinet. 

His heart immediately twists painfully at the sight of the familiar bottles, a sense of dread washing over him as he reaches for the bleach. 

“No, not really. It stopped once I reached high school.” He packs them all in the container, wincing at the weight. “A huge relief for my mom and her carpet.” 

His glass bottles clink loudly in the container, and Soobin pauses, “What are you doing? It’s so noisy over there.” 

“Packing my kitchen,” Beomgyu huffs. 

“Now?” Soobin exclaims incredulously, “At ten pm?” 

“My parents are visiting in three days, and you know my

mom goes snooping. She would nag if she saw how disorganised my house is.” And no doubt lots of questions if she saw his collection of cleaning supplies. A normal person living in a normal apartment would not even own a quarter of what he has, much less a bachelor. 

Plus, there would be no need for them from now on. 

That thought alone feels like driving a stake through his chest. 

“Oh, alright…” Soobin trails off, then he hears keys jingling in the background. “Have fun packing up then. I have a carpet to clean.” 

“Mmm,” Beomgyu hums, lifting the heavy container onto his hip, “Bye.”

His bathroom is next, where a makeshift first aid kid sits under his sink. It’s large, like a toolbox, rather than the tiny boxes they sell in the pharmacy. It rattles loudly when he opens it. He sees the surgical tools he tossed into a ziplock bag after boiling them in hot water, followed by sanitising with alcohol. He’s pretty sure that was not the right way to store or sterilise (Sanitise? Disinfect?), but there’s only so much the people on Reddit can teach him, and most are not picking glass shards or bullets out of flesh at home. 

He grabs the remaining bandages lying on the counter and on his bedside table, chucking them into more ziplock bags and placing them into the first aid kit. He’s going to shove this far into his storage, along with his cleaning supplies, never to be touched again. For minor cuts and blisters in future, he has plasters stocked in his medicine drawer. 

Beomgyu tucks the first-aid kit along with his cleaning supplies, then slides the nondescript container into the far-right corner of his storage. He should have tossed them out but he can’t quite bring himself to do it yet, that singular what if keeping him from doing so. 

(He will keep it for now. For a while longer. Maybe he can repurpose them. It would be a waste to throw them away anyway.)

There’s a sense of finality when Beomgyu closes the door to his storage and re-enters his kitchen. It’s the closest thing he’ll ever have to closure—not the most optimal, but necessary, if he wants to mend a broken heart and move on. With these stored away, he’s now determined to be a normal person, living in a normal house, with just floor detergent and dust wipes under his kitchen sink and plasters in his medicine drawer.

Beomgyu has hardly known normal in nearly a decade. 

When Beomgyu returns to his living room, there is immediately something wrong. His window is wide open, a familiar body collapsed in front of his television. Half his floor is red. 

Beomgyu doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even so much as flinch. 

His heart does sink though as he quickly turns around to grab the box he shoved into his storage a minute ago.

His burner phone starts ringing almost immediately (ah, one more thing he forgot). Pulling it out of his bedside drawer, he puts the caller on speaker beside him before kneeling down to assess the figure before him.

“How is Kai?” 

Beomgyu pulls on his gloves, latex snapping against his wrists, “Bleeding all over my carpet, but still breathing and conscious.” 

“Injuries?” 

Beomgyu grabs his scissors and begins cutting open the fabric. “Definitely gashes—“

“Got stabbed.” Beomgyu is interrupted mid sentence, “Bullet also nicked me in the thigh.” 

Had Beomgyu been anyone else, those words would have sent them into a panic. But Beomgyu hardly feels himself reacting as he continues to focus on cutting open the fabric around the thigh wound to reveal the area where the bullet had sliced through the flesh. He has to remain calm and steady in order to get this done safely and quickly.

Curses could be heard loud and clear through the speaker, “Jesus, Kai. This was meant to be a simple operation!”

Kai winces when Beomgyu begins wiping him down with alcohol, “But there was a lead.” 

“And?!” 

“I had to follow it, obviously?”

Beomgyu would have scoffed, but he doesn’t. With the area now clean, he has a better view of the wound. If Kai is still conscious and talking, he must be fine, but the stab wound looks deep. He quickly cauterises both wounds.

“Protocol dictates—”

“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu says, cutting him off, “I stopped the bleeding, but a stab wound is a stab wound. When are you coming to get him?”

Kai is bleeding through the gauzes quickly. Beomgyu tries not to let himself dwell too much on it.

“About that,” Yeonjun pauses, sounding sheepish. Beomgyu can already tell what’s coming next, and he can already feel his temper rising, “We are kinda swamped today, a lot were dispatched to—” 

“Yeonjun,” Beomgyu takes a deep breath, “I do not work for the IPC. I am not a medic, this is not your hospital, and I have a job to return to tomorrow. My parents are visiting on Saturday, and I cannot have an injured hero in my house.” 

Kai can’t stay here anymore. Guess everyone forgot.

“Right…” Yeonjun trails off, taken aback by Beomgyu’s tone. He hears the rustling of paper, followed by several rapid clicks, “right. I— I’ll pick him up myself then. Yeah, uh— tomorrow?” 

Beomgyu secures the bandage tightly around Kai’s torso, muscle memory guiding him. The thigh is thankfully a lot easier to patch up, and he moves to do so. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow at seven. I want my house empty by then.” 

“Okay. We’ll definitely be out of your hair tomorrow. And I’m sorry about the carpet.” 

“It’s fine.” Previously, he might have joked about being compensated with a new carpet. Now, he just wants to have nothing to do with the IPC. The line cuts and the apartment falls into silence, save for Kai’s laboured breathing. 

Numb. That’s how Beomgyu feels, as he secures the bandage around Kai’s thighs and peels off his bloodied gloves. His entire living room looks like a crime scene, and his own clothes are also stained with blood. 

Kai can’t shower or move after a fresh stab wound, so Beomgyu strips the remains of his suit clinging to his skin, leaving him in his boxers. There are a lot more bruises and minor cuts hidden under his suit, and Beomgyu briefly cleans each one of them. Kai’s eyes remain closed as Beomgyu works, but his chest rises and falls sharply with every deep breath, definitely from the pain. Beomgyu works quickly and methodically, the numbness spreading across his body and seeping into his skin. 

Sound slowly fades from his surroundings as Beomgyu pads into the kitchen to grab a trash bag, trailing blood after him as he goes. He washes his hands and scrubs them clean with soap, so he doesn't continue to drip blood everywhere. He puts on another pair of gloves and gathers all the bloodied gauze and cut cloth to be disposed of later. Grabbing a pack of wipes, he tries to clean off as much of the remaining dirt as he can before carrying Kai to his bed to be dressed in clean clothes later. Kai says something to him, but it comes muffled and unclear, like his own ears are stuffed with cotton. He ignores Kai, though, and returns to the living room to deal with the carpet. 

Briefly, he thinks about Soobin and his little bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Cleaning off two droplets of blood with Taehyun around to kiss his nose better after. Blood from his own nosebleed, not Taehyun’s. 

He scrubs, and scrubs and scrubs, making sure every single crevice is cleaned of bodily fluids, and his marble floor is no longer stained pink. He scrubs until his fingers have pruned and his knees begin to bruise, till he grows lightheaded and feels barely tethered to Earth. Only when his floor is spotless does he stop, finally pausing to take a deep breath. The fumes burn his lungs, making his eyes water, but it anchors him as he threatens to float. 

Kai is asleep by the time Beomgyu returns to check on him, his breathing having mellowed out. Perspiration beads at his hairline, and Beomgyu can already tell he will be sporting a fever tomorrow. Quietly, he draws the blanket over Kai’s body and heads for the showers with a fresh set of clothes in hand.

As he strips his own blood-stained clothes off and stands under the hot shower, his hands finally shake. Beomgyu is only human after all, a regular salaried worker. Not someone trained to work so closely with death. His hands shake as he lathers shampoo on his hair, and before long, the first tear falls.

When Beomgyu closes his eyes, all he sees is red. Blood, blood, blood—pouring, gushing from Kai’s side and thigh. The stab may have missed Kai’s vitals, but it was close. What if it had been too close? 

His chest constricts with panic and pain, every breath a painful drag through his lungs. He thumps his chest with his fist and sobs. Despite how many times Kai had stumbled through his door, windows, and balcony some days with only a few scratches and some days at death’s door, it never gets easier for Beomgyu. 

Sure, he’s learned not to scream at the first sight of blood, learnt to not panic and sob and to keep his hands steady while he patches Kai up and reads his vitals to Yeonjun. But he’s only ever learnt to delay the fear and pain of losing Kai.

It’s too much for him to watch Kai throw his life away to keep others safe, only to return to him broken, bloodied and bruised. When time and again he’s begged Kai to quit or retire—anything to stop this self-sacrificial madness—but Kai steps back into the field even before his broken ribs have healed.

“It’s my duty as a hero. The people need me.” Kai would always say. He’d slip through Beomgyu’s fingers, leaving him behind to deal with a broken, anxious, heart. 

Until last month, that is, when Beomgyu finally called their relationship off. 

It was an ultimatum, for Kai, and for himself. He was losing sleep over nightly nightmares of Kai bleeding out in his arms; the constant state of anxiety he found himself in whenever Kai was on a mission wore him out. He was always terrified, bitter, and angry at the world for taking Kai away from him. More often, he caught himself thinking, if everyone were a little more competent and learnt how to deal with villains themselves, Kai wouldn’t have to go on dangerous missions. If they were going to be useless and helpless, maybe the civilians deserve to die. 

And it scared him. 

It stung when Kai walked out the door and never came back. A month of radio silence brought Beomgyu relief and drove him crazy. If he wasn’t showing up on Beomgyu’s doorstep, that meant he was safe, right? Beomgyu knew logically that was not true. And he wanted to see Kai so badly, regardless of how injured he was. He wanted to see with his own two eyes that Kai was alive, at least. To hold him and feel him under his hands and prove that Kai is here, alive and real. 

Without thinking, his feet carry him back to his bedroom, where Kai is asleep. The mattress dips where he sits next to Kai, but the hero doesn’t stir. Fast asleep, Kai looks at peace. It’s hard to imagine him as someone who holds the burden of the world on his shoulders, stumbling through his window with several gaping wounds earlier.

As his eyes drift from Kai’s face to his neck, he spots a thin line that runs across Kai’s right shoulder. He always had every single one of Kai’s scars memorised, always knowing when a scar was new, and this, he’s never seen before. Beomgyu reaches out to brush it lightly with his thumb, feeling the flesh of his own heart splitting as if he’d been slashed too. He feels as if he’s carrying all of Kai’s scars inside of him—if you cut him open and turned him inside out, you’d see jagged lines all over, some thick, some thin, and some massive keloid scars. But unlike Kai’s, they never heal, always ripped apart and reopened, healing uglier than the way Kai’s did. 

Beomgyu’s hand falls away from Kai’s shoulder, briefly lingering around Kai’s cheek. His heart aches with how much he’s missed Kai, the urge to hold him so strong it squeezes his heart painfully in his chest. But he can’t, and he has to swallow the lump in his throat and blink away the tears for the umpteenth time. 

He settles for wrapping his pinky around Kai’s finger. Moonlight streams through his window in soft streaks, and where it lands on Kai, it casts a gentle glow across Kai’s features. His black and white hair, perfectly split down the middle, fans across the pillow. It is one of Beomgyu’s favourite things about Kai, his split hair making him look way more charming and beautiful. But it is also a manifestation of his ice and fire powers, a painful reminder of the chasm that continues to exist between them and was the undoing of their relationship. 

Beomgyu watches, eyes trained on the rise and fall of Kai’s chest. Watching the younger sleep, safe and sound in his bed, always quelled his anxiety and brought him peace, if only temporarily. In quiet moments like these, he would always ponder on the what-ifs—what if Kai hadn’t presented with powers? What if Kai didn’t choose to become a pro hero? What if Beomgyu had manifested powers instead?  

It’s nearly two in the morning when Beomgyu’s eyelids begin to droop, and he finds himself soon unable to resist lying down next to Kai. With his last remaining shred of rationality remaining, he uncurls his pinky from where it’s hooked around Kai’s finger to make his way outside. What he doesn’t expect is for a hand to suddenly grab his hand, pulling a startled gasp from him.

“—gyu?” Kai groans, eyes cracking open. Beomgyu seizes in panic. It’s too early and too fresh— he’s neither mentally nor emotionally prepared to speak with Kai after their breakup, especially not after the earlier ordeal. Beomgyu squirms, trying to pull Kai’s hand off him. But for someone who’s been recently stabbed, Kai’s got a surprisingly strong grip. 

“Let go,” Beomgyu tries to keep his voice steady, but it wavers, “I was only checking on your wounds.”

Kai tugs at his wrist, blinking up at him pleadingly. It’s so hard when Kai’s hand is so incredibly warm. 

“Don’t go, please?” 

“No,” Beomgyu shoots him down instantly, and he tries not to crack at the flash of hurt that passes Kai’s face, “I need to sleep. Let me go.” 

“Gyu,” Kai begs, sounding on the verge of tears, “I know you’re mad—”

“I’m not.” Beomgyu’s not lying. He’s not even sure what he’s currently feeling anymore, but all he knows is that it’s agonising. 

“I miss you,” Kai croaks, and Beomgyu thinks he might throw up, “Just once— just today— please.” 

Later on, he’ll chalk it up to exhaustion, adrenaline or the need to watch over his patient to explain his lapse of judgment. But the moment Kai’s thumb brushes the inside of Beomgyu’s wrist, all fight leaves him at once. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t lie down either, choosing to sit next to Kai, leaving a respectable distance between them.

When Beomgyu finally sits, Kai whispers, “I’m sorry.”

Oh. Beomgyu swallows the bile rising in his throat. 

“Sleep. I’ll be here.” 

Thankfully, Kai doesn’t protest any further, eyes fluttering shut. His hand remains loosely wrapped around Beomgyu’s skin.

Beomgyu takes in a shuddery breath, pulling his knees to his chest to hide his face. He feels so hollowed out, and yet his chest feels two seconds away from bursting, the ache unbearable.  A couple of tears fall as Kai’s fingers curl around his palm, adjusting to properly hold his hand. He lets Kai, because he’s just so fucking weak. 

When Kai finally falls asleep, Beomgyu pulls away and escapes to the living room.  

—

No one really tells you how to move on and live your life after spending your night sewing your ex up and scrubbing blood off your living room floor. He supposes life moves on, especially for normal salaried workers like him, who aren’t supposed to be living such exciting double lives. 

Beomgyu feels more dead than alive when he takes the 8 a.m. train to work. He feels both physically and emotionally wrung out, as if he’d been hollowed out with a spoon then tossed to the streets to be run over by three IPC trucks. 

Back and forth, back and forth—make sure he’s utterly crushed and broken, and nothing’s left of him before peeling him off the asphalt and tossing him into the morning rush hour crowd. 

No one really cares either that he had spent the night patching up their beloved No. 5 hero, nursing him back to health and preventing him from bleeding to death in his apartment. He nearly gets shoved out of the train by commuters who rushed to exit before he could move out of the way, then was elbowed in the gut by this miserable old hag who had enough energy to shove five grown adults but desperately needed a seat. In their defence, none of them knew about his relationship with Kai. By the time Kai asked him out, he had already gone pro. It made sense to keep his identity hidden for his safety.

He never realised how lonely it felt, dealing with it alone, until he didn’t have Kai. In some ways, being able to lash out at him gave Beomgyu an outlet for talking about his feelings. 

Beomgyu drops his bag unceremoniously on his desk when he finally arrives, uncaring of the loud clatter his laptop makes and the looks he receives for it. If anyone thinks they are having a shit morning, they can take it up with him because he’s having it worse. 

“Morning, busy cleaning last night?” Soobin rolls his chair over from the next desk, looking way brighter and more awake than Beomgyu feels right now. 

“You have no idea,” Beomgyu says tiredly, plopping onto his own seat. All he wants to do is go somewhere quiet with a nice bed so he can crash for the next three days and not have to think about anything. “Didn’t think I would end up scrubbing my floor clean.”

“What time did you sleep?”

Beomgyu thinks back to last night. After running from his bedroom around three am, he lay awake for another hour, tossing and turning before finally falling asleep, only to be rudely awakened by his alarm at seven. He had to get ready, check on Kai’s bandages, then rush to catch the eight am train. 

“Four.” 

“Woah…” Soobin drags his vowels, swivelling back and forth in his chair. Looking at Soobin makes him kind of sick. “Does your mom really care that much about stains?” 

“Yeah,” Beomgyu nods, recalling the state of his floor last night. He can’t even imagine the panic it would send his parents into if they saw, “She hates bloodstains.” 

“What?” Soobin exclaims a little too loudly for the office, halting in his swivelling. His eyes are bulging out of their sockets, and Beomgyu thinks he looks stupid.

“I was just joking, Jesus. Be calm.” Beomgyu sighs, logging into the company VPN, “Susan from three rows down is giving you the stink eye.” 

“Well, Susan from three rows down can suck it,” Soobin grouches, but complies and reduces his volume. 

Yeah, she can. Because after everything last night? He deserves at least a debrief session with his work bestie, even if he has to twist some part of the truth. 

“I dropped my trash on the way out. And it had to contain chilli oil of all things. Got it all over my floor and carpet.” 

“Shit,” Soobin says sympathetically, “Chilli oil is hard to remove. So what did you do?”

Beomgyu shrugs, “I don’t know? With soap? Never got the stain out.”

Soobin wrinkles his nose, calling him out for his bullshit, “You know how to get bloodstains out, but not food stains?”

“Y-Yeah?” Beomgyu stammers. It’s entirely possible, no? “I don’t go around spilling food all the time, and when I do, it’s never on my carpet.” 

Soobin snorts, “Careful, if I didn’t know you better, I’d start assuming you are a serial killer.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Beomgyu rolled his eyes. He snaps his laptop shut. His ass had barely warmed his seat, and he’s already off to a meeting. “See you in a bit, I’ve got a nine-thirty.” 

Soobin winces, giving him a sympathetic pout before patting him on his shoulder. “With who?”

“Who else? Fucking upper management.” 

Beomgyu leaves the nine-thirty with two more projects under his belt and a headache brewing at the back of his skull.

Beomgyu stares at his screen, a Teams notification banner popping up every two minutes, and he wishes he were gifted with the power to make it explode with mere eye power. He may not have powers, but the pantry has plenty of metal cutlery and three microwaves. 

Really, with who is currently sleeping in his bed right now, hitting quarterly sales targets feels laughably trivial. 

Beomgyu messes up two reports, blanks out in the middle of a presentation, and entirely misses an important client’s email. He’s so utterly exhausted and out of it that he can’t even bring himself to care when Excel crashes on him for the third time. 

Even Soobin starts to look at him suspiciously and asks him what’s wrong.

He trudges along, and despite his pounding headache, he attends meeting after meeting. Work continues to pile up in his inbox as he continues to get pulled in all directions for meaningless work talk. Because that’s all people do in corporate—talk shit and talk big game while the bottom of the food chain gets laden with more work.

Beomgyu acts like his life isn’t actively falling apart, and he’s got one of the nation’s top heroes injured in his bed right now. Who also happens to be his ex. 

Maybe he should tell Soobin his ex came back. That’s also the truth. If he left out the ‘who’ and the ‘how’.

It’s kind of unfair, isn’t it? On the night Beomgyu attempts to put things behind him and move on, Kai comes crashing back into his life after agreeing to end things off, on the brink of death, expecting Beomgyu to patch him up and put him back together. And Beomgyu does, like an idiot, because he’s stupidly in love with Kai. Each time Kai returns wounded, he would patch him up. Each time Beomgyu tries to put an end to this, when Kai comes crashing, he goes crawling as well. 

Beomgyu feels irrevocably foolish. Because what about him? Who’s going to care for him after he’s done with Kai? Who’s going to save him when Kai is out there saving others? 

At four pm, Beomgyu calls it quits. Fuck the report, the clients can shove it far up their arses. He’s so clearly out of it that no one questions him when he packs his bag several hours before they’re meant to clock off. Even his manager barely bats an eye, waving him off after asking him to rest well. 

The train is empty and quiet at this hour, except for a few students and an elderly woman. It gives him the luxury of picking a seat, and he sinks into it, all weary. The scenery flashes by, and Beomgyu watches it quietly, the sun just about to set, casting a golden glow into the train carriage. Opposite him is Na Jaemin, on a poster advocating against drinking and driving, tacked onto the walls of the cabin. 

Another pro hero working under the IPC. Beomgyu had met him twice—once during the annual ranking ceremony, where Jaemin was announced third and Kai fifth, and once more during a more intimate team dinner between the top ten heroes and their handlers. He remembers Mark, the designated handler for the top three heroes, and Donghyuck, his partner. 

Beomgyu remembers feeling extremely proud on both occasions, to see Kai receive the recognition he deserved for his hard work, and to see him mingling amongst the nation’s top heroes—their best and their strongest. 

He’s always been super proud of Kai, regardless of status. Ever since he developed his powers at the age of eighteen and decided he wanted to enrol in the IPC Hero Academy, Beomgyu’s always been rooting for him. Beomgyu never developed any powers, so he couldn’t understand how it felt to belong to the tinier fraction of the population that had them. Still, it felt like a noble sacrifice anyway, and he had cheered Kai on as the hero graduated and joined the IPC. 

Back then, Kai would come home sore after a long day of catching pickpockets and helping the elderly cross the street. Beomgyu would always wait to massage the ache out of his shoulders. As Kai climbed the ranks, the missions he was sent on grew in danger as well. Accidents were inevitable. Beomgyu was not so naive as to think that Kai would always be so lucky to be free from harm’s way. 

Then one day, Kai changed. Beomgyu had no clue as to what could be the catalyst. He grew reckless, threw himself into danger, and came back with a lot more injuries that could have been avoided. Beomgyu only found out because Yeonjun would often yell at Kai for it over their comms. 

Beomgyu sighed, dropping his head. He played with the bracelet around his wrist, the one Kai gave him this year for his birthday. 

He wished to understand. He desperately wishes he understood the sense of duty that heroes felt to throw themselves into danger for strangers constantly. But what could warrant putting their bodies and lives at risk? 

His gaze drifted back up. Na Jaemin’s prosthetic eye stares back at him. 

—

The apartment is quiet by the time he gets back. Kai must have left before he got back. Beomgyu toes off his shoes, nose wrinkling at the acrid scent of bleach and disinfectant still lingering in his living room. The scent should have disappeared with the copious amounts of air freshener he sprayed yesterday. 

Beomgyu pushes his windows wide open to let the air in, then tosses his work bag on the couch. While he would love to collapse on the cool marble floor and take a nap so good it leaves him severely dehydrated when he wakes up, he also desperately needs a shower. 

Beomgyu opens his bedroom door to a half-naked Kai. He jumps three feet into the air when he sees the other sitting by the edge of his bed, who cowers slightly like a frightened animal at the sight of Beomgyu.

“You’re still here,” Beomgyu says dumbly, stating the obvious. 

“Well, yes. You’re early,” Kai coughs awkwardly. 

Kai is well enough to sit upright by the edge of his bed, but his back is hunched, and he’s got one hand in the sleeve of a hoodie. It’s clear, from the shirt lying abandoned next to him, that it hurts way too much to get dressed by himself. 

Beomgyu’s eyes are immediately drawn to the damp red patch forming at Kai’s torso, where he is bleeding through his bandages.

“Shit, don’t move.” Beomgyu cusses. Kai raises his brows, confused as if he never noticed the soaked patch, but complies, dropping his arm carefully to his sides. 

Kai must have accidentally ripped his stitches while getting dressed. Beomgyu carefully unwraps the soaked bandages, making sure not to further agitate the wound. 

In his haste to patch Kai up, Beomgyu only had time to wash his hands, foregoing the gloves. His hand brushes against Kai’s skin with each move, and he tries to will his rapidly beating heart to slow down. Kai is half-naked, hot and ripped before him. Beomgyu hasn’t been touched in a month—and despite everything that has happened, his stupid heart still wants him.

Everything about this is just so ridiculous. The fierce blush running down Kai’s neck is just as ridiculous. Beomgyu quickly clears his throat and gets on with the dressing. 

“I’m done. Stay still, I’ll help you dress.” 

The younger is quiet as Beomgyu moves to help him into the jacket, nervous energy radiating off him in waves. How did it get to this point, where neither of them can look into each other’s eyes? 

Beomgyu slides Kai’s right arm through the sleeves, then the left, careful not to aggravate his freshly bandaged wounds. Only when he zips up the hoodie does Beomgyu realise it's his. An old hoodie he wore throughout college, only retiring it once he started working full-time. 

“Is that my hoodie?"

Kai’s ears are red at the tips. “I can give it back.”

“Were you trying to steal my hoodie while I was out at work?” Beomgyu likes seeing Kai in his clothes, but also finds himself flaring up in irritation at the fact that Kai would rather pull this shit rather than just fucking listen to him. 

Kai pulls the zip down, “I’ll give it back—”

“No, no,” Beomgyu cards a hand through his hair, breathing hard through his nose, “keep it.” He yanks the zip back up right to Kai’s chin, “Keep it on.”

“Okay.” Kai lowers his head, fiddling with the sleeves of Beomgyu’s hoodie. 

The room falls into tense silence, and Beomgyu has no idea if he should stay or leave. Both feel wrong, and the idea of doing both makes him queasy. 

“Beomgyu?” Kai tries again after a while, his head lifting to meet Beomgyu’s eyes. 

“What?”

“Thank you for yesterday.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t grace him with a reply. 

“I’m also really sorry about showing up again, unannounced and uninvited.” 

Beomgyu drops his shoulders. He rubs his face tiredly, “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I had nowhere to go,” Kai continues, despite his words, “You were the only person I could think about—“

“Kai! I don’t want to know, and I really don’t care.” Beomgyu snaps, immediately regretting his outburst once the other falls silent. But the floodgates have been opened, and he continues, words spilling rapidly out of the anger that’s begun simmering in his chest. 

“You know by now how I feel about this. I don’t know what else you want from me. There’s only so much begging I can do if you refuse to care about how I feel.” 

“You know I care—“ 

“Well, I don’t feel it!” Beomgyu can feel the tears begin to form. “Damn it— you say you care, but you come home on the brink of death each time, and barely two days later you’re out there getting stabbed. How is that caring?”

Beomgyu knows he’s gearing himself up for another breakdown with the way he begins to hyperventilate, but once he starts, he can’t stop. He tries to breathe, but a quiet sob is punched out of his chest instead, and the tears finally fall. He hears the ruffle of sheets as Kai turns to look at him, and Beomgyu quickly stands up to put distance between them.

“Why don’t you understand? Why don’t you see it? Why can’t you put yourself in my shoes? You were stabbed, Kai. Stabbed and shot. Do you know how it feels to see someone you love stabbed and shot?” 

Beomgyu can hardly breathe. Everything hurts—he feels like he’s going to suffocate and there’s a sharp pain in his lungs every time he manages to take a breath. 

“Do you ever stop to think how it feels to have someone you love bleeding out in front of you, on the carpet, on the floor of your shared home? Did you ever once consider how I feel, knowing that if I did a poor job or wasn’t fast enough, you could die? God fucking damn it Kai— why don’t you care?” 

Beomgyu collapses onto the ground, pressing his palm into his wet eyelids. The first time felt cathartic, but Beomgyu’s running on the same script for the nth time now. All he feels is exhaustion, along with despair and grief in the hollow of his chest. 

“Beomgyu—” Kai tries to reach for him.

“Don’t touch me!” Beomgyu shrieks, hysterical. He’d be pulled in, soothed, and nothing will ever change. He’s so sick of this never-ending cycle of breakdowns and arguments when all he wants is for Kai to be safe. Is it so hard? Just to be safe? 

“Don’t pretend to care now. Just— breaking my fucking heart over and over again without any remorse—“

“That’s not true,” Kai looks pained, “Gyu, tell me you know that’s not true.” 

“I don’t know— I don’t know anymore, Kai. I’ve never asked for much, just for you to be safe. I don’t get it— how hard is it to just not be reckless? How hard is it to also consider how I feel?” 

Beomgyu brushes his tears away and looks at Kai, “Do you even love me?” 

He sees the exact moment the words plunge a knife deep into Kai’s chest, eyes widening as hurt and disbelief flash through them before his expression twists into one of guilt and pain. A second knife stabs through both of theirs when Beomgyu continues to say, “Because I’m starting to think you’ve never really loved me. Not enough to care at least.” 

Neither of them says a word. The room falls into silence, save for Beomgyu’s occasional sniffle. It feels final, like Beomgyu’s hammered the final nail in the coffin of their broken relationship with that one statement.  

And because he loves Kai, he loves Kai so much it hurts, “Don’t ever come back again asking me to patch you up. And I mean it, this time.”

Beomgyu sits outside the living room, alone. His cheeks are pressed to his knee as he gazes at the city skylines in the far distance, the tall skyscrapers in the city’s business district visible from the tenth floor of his home. Right below is a park, with plenty of people walking their dogs or exercising. Beomgyu watches them absently, barely focused on the movement of people, the ripples on the surface of a nearby pond, and the occasional migratory birds that swoop low and majestically enough for Beomgyu to catch a good glimpse of them. 

When the sun finally dips beyond the horizon, someone knocks on his door. Two sharp raps, three knocks, then four sharp raps. It’s Yeonjun. 

Beomgyu quickly pats his cheeks. They are dry, but his face is sticky, having neglected to wipe it earlier. His eyes must be puffy, but there’s nothing he can do as he gets up from where he’s seated to open the front door. He opens the door to Yeonjun’s cheery expression, which immediately falls once his eyes land on Beomgyu. 

“Hey… It’s been a while. How are you?"

Beomgyu’s not really in the mood for any pleasantries. He jabs a thumb in the direction of his room, “The bedroom on the left.” 

“G-got it, okay.” Yeonjun stammers, taking the hint. He takes off his shoes quickly and makes a beeline for Beomgyu’s bedroom. 

The breakup happened on a random Tuesday. Neither of them told, but he’s certain Yeonjun knows they broke up. Hell, everyone at the IPC probably knows at this point. 

Yeonjun helps Kai out of his bedroom, taking baby steps to not aggravate the wounds. Kai’s eyes are red-rimmed, as if he’d been crying himself. Beomgyu quickly looks away, swallowing the guilt.

Not a single word is exchanged, and it’s on Yeonjun’s account that he doesn’t slam the door in their face the moment they set foot past the entrance. Yeonjun bids him goodbye, and Beomgyu bows slightly, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. 

He doesn’t look at Kai any further. Otherwise, he might just break into a million pieces. 

—

Windows shattered, the pungent scent of burnt flesh and iron, a figure slumped against the remaining glass panels.

Traffic is loud, but the screams are louder, the city thrown into chaos as crashes and explosions sound in the distance. 

Blood, so much blood.

His vision is blurry, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, but he can’t stop. His fingers dig through soft sticky flesh, fishing for the stray bullet, but his hands shake too much to get a good grip on the slippery metal.

Kai’s head is bleeding—the white half of his hair is entirely caked with dark red, the puddle of blood below him growing bigger with every minute. He’s running against time, but his hands are shaking— he can’t breathe— he can’t get the bullet out—

He gives up on the bullet, ripping his hand out to stem the blood flow from Kai’s head. It’s soft where his skull should be hard, and he cries harder, holds Kai closer who eventually grows limp and breaths grow shallower and shallower. 

He cries, and cries, and cries.

—

Winter truly arrives when it grows cold enough for Beomgyu to swallow his pride and pull out his stash of long johns and ugly black puffers.

Seoul in January looks closer to an abandoned city, with the occasional cars and only a few people on the streets. They’re all brisk walking, hurrying towards their destination so as to avoid spending as much time in the cold as possible. Except for Beomgyu, who finds himself sitting on a park bench opposite his apartment in the dead of winter, shivering despite his thermal layers and scarf bundled around his neck.

“Tell me, why am I here with you?” 

Beomgyu’s got his fingers loosely wrapped around a leash, while a Samoyed chases its tail several feet away from him, delighted to be surrounded by snow. Next to him is Soobin, who, despite looking like a Samoyed himself, clearly doesn’t share the same sentiment. 

“I was bribed into dog sitting, and you’re my only friend.”

While it sounded sad, it’s true. He never had many friends to begin with, and the numbers dwindled once he moved to Seoul. He wasn’t going to risk it with such a big secret to keep.

Soobin huffs, “Dude, it's minus four degrees out.” 

“He needs to walk, look at him!” Beomgyu gestures at the dog, who has never looked happier to be able to expand its huge reserve of energy, “I have to bring him down, regardless of the weather. It’s part of the dog sitting.” 

“How much are you being paid anyway?” 

Beomgyu holds out five fingers on the verge of frostbite.

“Five hundred?”

Beomgyu nods.

“Per day?” 

“Nah, for five days.” 

“Five days?” Soobin gasps, “That’s it?”

“Man, I’m cheap and easily bribed, alright?” Beomgyu rolls his eyes. He turns to look at the white fluff rolling about in the snow, “Plus it’s nice to have company.” 

Soobin sighs and pulls his scarf tighter around his neck, “I’m cold.” 

“Then why are you here?” Beomgyu looks Soobin up and down, brow raised, “You’re not even being paid.”

“Because you look like you needed company,” Soobin jabs, though his face softens, “as you said, you don’t have many friends. Must be lonely.” 

Beomgyu looks away, mumbling, “What are you even talking about? I’m fine.”

See, here’s the thing he loves and hates about Soobin. He could be nosy or a gossip, but when it came to things that truly mattered, he never once pried. Instead, he quietly observes, with an all-knowing gaze that reads Beomgyu like an open book. Sometimes, Beomgyu wishes Soobin could just ask him point-blank about what happened. 

“I would tell you, but I can’t,” Beomgyu admits quietly. 

“Oh? About what? About your lack of friends? I already know.” Soobin teases, and the moment is broken. Beomgyu huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. 

“Nothing.” 

All of a sudden, a loud bark sounds in the distance, and the leash is nearly tugged out of Beomgyu’s grasp. He looks up and sees two figures, one in an extremely distinctive pastel pink suit. 

The pink figure shrieks, “AHHH! Doggie! Goodness, you’re so fluffy!” 

Beside him, Soobin curses, “What the fuck.”

What the fuck indeed. Beomgyu feels his throat go dry and his palms sweat as the second figure approaches him, clad in his iconic black suit. The dog goes dashing, and the leash slips from Beomgyu’s grip, but he can’t even bring himself to care. 

“Beomgyu, it’s been a while.”

Beomgyu takes the hand offered to him, wincing when he grabs freezing cold metal. 

“Apologies, I tend to forget this arm of mine is made of metal. Maybe I should get Jihoon to add a warming element to it.” 

“Seu— S.Coups. Hi, uh— what a coincidence.” Beomgyu feels like he can’t breathe. “And no, that won’t be necessary. Won’t it just be a waste of fuel?”

Seungcheol nods, “I do agree, though, I’m sure Jihoon would be able to find ways to develop that feature while using sustainable fuel.” 

Jihoon. Beomgyu’s heard that name once or twice. 

“That he does,” Beomgyu agrees weakly. It’s Sunday. Why is he shaking hands with South Korea’s top hero on a random Sunday? He feels faint as Number Three comes bounding with his brother’s giant dog cradled lightly in his arms. Beomgyu wishes he had a camera. 

“Beomgyu! Nice to see you again. Is this your dog?”

He tries not to gawk as Jaemin carries the fifty-pound dog with ease. “He’s my brother’s.”

Jaemin makes kissy faces at the dog, which happily soaks in all the attention. “What is his name?”

“Uhm,” Beomgyu swallows, “Lune.”

“Lune!” Jaemin coos loudly. He sets the dog on the ground and begins vigorously rubbing its fluffy cheeks, “Handsome name for a handsome boy!” 

Lune barks happily in reply, hopping on its hind feet to put its front paws on Jaemin’s torso. Beomgyu feels faint. He looks at Seungcheol, who looks mildly amused, then at Jaemin and Lune. He can’t imagine how this must look to Soobin. 

Right, Soobin. 

“Uh, meet my friend,” Beomgyu gestures behind him, at Soobin, who’s still very much frozen in shock, “He’s Soobin. He’s here to walk the dog with me.” 

Seungcheol reaches out for a handshake, and Soobin returns it, eyes wide and jaw still slightly ajar as if he cannot believe what is happening to him. He almost feels sorry for having sprung this upon Soobin, even though he’s feeling a little blindsided himself. He definitely owes Soobin an explanation. 

“Nana and I are just on our way back from a patrol. Didn’t know you lived around here.” Seungcheol says, though he turns towards the apartment on the opposite side of the park and glances up. They both know where he stays. 

“Well, now you know.” Beomgyu chuckles awkwardly. He’s about to shit himself, and Soobin’s still gawking behind. 

Seungcheol thankfully reads the room and makes a graceful exit. “Unfortunately, I have lots of paperwork left at the agency to finish. I must get going.” 

“I’ll join you later. I want to catch up with Beomgyu.” Jaemin says, catching Beomgyu by surprise. Jaemin passes him Lune’s leash with a pointed look in his eye, and Beomgyu quickly turns to Soobin.

“Hey, do you mind bringing Lune upstairs? If Taehyun arrives before me, just get started first.” 

Soobin is still recovering from the earlier events, but he nods and quietly takes Lune’s leash, who looks happy to trot after Soobin. 

Jaemin gestures at the bench, “Shall we sit?” 

Without Soobin as the buffer, Beomgyu grows nervous. He sits on the bench, folding his hands in his lap. The last two times they spoke, it was with Kai present, and Beomgyu had some sort of relationship with the pro heroes as Kai’s partner. With that gone and Beomgyu back to being a regular civilian, he can’t quite fathom what Jaemin wants with him.

“How have you been?”

“Just… working.” 

“Just work?” Jaemin frowns, “Surely you do go out on the weekends, party, and do things you enjoy?” 

Beomgyu’s weekdays consist of work, work, and more work. In his spare time, he tries not to gaslight himself into regretting the breakup, and steers clear of what-ifs. On the weekends, he puts a movie on and lies on the couch all day, and tries not to think of Kai too much. Soobin occasionally comes over, but he’s married and has a husband, so he doesn’t come as often either. “No, I just stay at home. I don’t have many friends to hang out with either—you just met my only friend in Seoul.”

“Just one friend? Surely, you’ll be able to find more! You’re a delight to be around.” Jaemin exclaims. Beomgyu nearly laughs at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Number Three finds him a delight to be around. 

“Most of them are acquaintances. It was hard to make friends after— when I was— you know…” 

Dating Kai. Beomgyu can’t bring himself to say it. 

“Ah, I see. How have you been coping?” Jaemin asks softly, gaze gentle. 

“I’m—” Beomgyu chokes on his words, struggling to find the right one. He hadn’t expected Jaemin to ask him directly about it. He figured he would skirt the issue and not address the elephant in the room. 

“I apologise if I’m overstepping. I figured you would have no one else to talk to about this.” 

“Well, yes. We are no longer together.” Even saying that hurt. The gentle, empathetic gaze Jaemin is giving him isn’t helping either. Any form of affection received right now may make him cry. 

“Hmm… It was not hard to put two and two together. Kai suddenly lost his spark, and you stopped showing up to team dinners. And I had to review his bodycam of— of that night, for another mission, which I am terribly sorry about.” 

“Oh.” The night when he selfishly begged Kai to retire? Beomgyu so desperately wants to bury his head in the snow. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s a valid concern after all.”

“Right,” Beomgyu can’t help but scoff. He always assumed he would feel validated if a pro hero agreed with him, but now, it just feels like Jaemin’s softening the blow before telling him he’s wrong about everything. “Are you here to convince me Kai’s right?” 

“No,” Jaemin’s smile never wavers, tone remaining soft despite the slight accusation from Beomgyu’s end, “I’m here to ask how you are feeling. And not tell you how to feel.”

Beomgyu swallows and looks away, “I don’t know. How should someone feel if they had to watch their partner gravely injure themselves over and over again for nothing?” 

Jaemin hums, and Beomgyu immediately backpedals, feels a twinge of regret. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it was for nothing. Your work isn’t for nothing.” 

Jaemin looks at him thoughtfully, “It’s okay, Beomgyu, I’m not mad. But it is an interesting perspective, and I would like to hear more.” 

Elaborating more about why hero work starts feeling bullshitty to the pro hero himself? Feels awfully like a trap. But if Jaemin wants to hear it, Beomgyu will go for it. 

“Maybe I’m selfish for feeling this way, but it feels thankless. I know the public loves Kai; they’re thankful, but when Kai is down, do they care? Heroes get sick and injured just like any of us, but they’re expected to be present the instant anyone needs help. They get complacent, can’t defend themselves, then rely on heroes and blame them if things don’t go well.”

“I just never understood putting yourself in danger for a stranger who doesn’t appreciate you. Like, I get it, wanting to help people. Shit, Jaemin, if I’m allowed to be blunt—I don’t think half my colleagues are deserving of the work you do for them.”

“The thought of Kai injuring himself to the point of nearly losing his life to keep those people safe just angers me. For what? Why? He’s out there keeping everyone’s loved ones safe, but who’s keeping mine?”

His tirade ends rather awkwardly with silence. Jaemin quietly watches him for a bit, an unreadable expression on his face. He seems to be taking in Beomgyu’s words rather seriously, but his silent contemplation makes Beomgyu nervous. 

Jaemin presses a hand to his chest. “Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me. May I share more about myself? I feel like I should— I know so much about you, but you know nothing about me at all.”

Beomgyu shrugs. What the hell, sure.  

“If I didn’t manifest powers, I was planning to be a paediatrician or a kindergarten teacher. I always wanted to work with kids.” Jaemin gestures at himself, ‘I wanted to be a hero whom children felt like they could trust and believe in. Hence, the whole pastels and pink and the hero name Nana.” 

“Kids… most of them are innocent. No child is born evil. And yet the system overlooks them most. The fight I lost my eye in, I took down the Bogeyman. You should know who the Bogeyman is.”

Beomgyu knows. It was a horrifying case that took the prime spot in the news for several weeks straight. Beomgyu hasn’t been able to read up about it without feeling queasy. It was the case that took Jaemin from the fifteenth to the third rank. 

“The Bogeyman was doing horrible things to children. The media only heard accounts through my report. They weren’t there when I took him down. Until today, I still get nightmares about what I saw.” 

Jaemin chuckles, “I’ve got a civilian partner too, Donghyuck. Just like you, he waited two weeks for me to wake up from my coma, then yelled at me loud enough for everyone at the infirmary to hear. Then two weeks after I woke up, I returned immediately to work. The Bogeyman may be gone, but he ran an empire. He had henchmen, and there were plenty of others committing unspeakable crimes against children.”

“I’d do it all over, if it meant keeping the country safe. Every hero has their own reason to keep them going, but none of us are throwing our bodies into this for the fun of it.” Jaemin sighs, looking down, almost shy, “You heard it first, but I want to settle down with Donghyuck, and have kids someday. I can’t bring myself to rest until the country is safe enough for my kids to roam the streets freely.”

But what if you’re not here to raise them with Donghyuck? Beomgyu wonders. What will Donghyuck and your children do?

Jaemin turns to face Beomgyu properly and places a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder.

“If I may just overstep a little, ask Kai. Have him tell you why he’s doing all this. No use worrying your pretty little head trying to read his mind. We aren’t Psychic.” 

—

Beomgyu often wonders if he will ever receive closure. Their last argument feels fresh; his cleaning supplies and first aid kit are still left in a corner of his living room after he scrubbed his floors clean. He never bothered putting them away since that day.

The world moves on regardless, and every day Beomgyu feels like he’s sinking deeper into the pits of hell. He receives updates on Kai, whether he likes it or not. An ambassadorship with a huge sportswear brand means he’s plastered all over in shopping malls and store windows. He sees what he’s done to Kai in fan-taken clips and interviews, sees what Jaemin means by he had lost his spark. He sees the videos taken by civilians instead of fleeing the scene, sees the way Kai fights, bleeds, and breaks himself for the people. 

Beomgyu feels each cut and bruise, and sinks slowly into dark, sticky tar. 

In return, he throws himself into work. He applies for his master's, signs up for a marathon, and begins going to the gym. He signs up to be a first responder volunteer and takes a course in first aid. If he packs his waking hours full of activities, the less he thinks, and the less he feels. 

The streets are quiet as Beomgyu walks back from the convenience store, a bag of snacks in hand. The government had recently issued a warning to advise citizens to avoid staying out late at night in lieu of X breaking out from the prison facilities. A blunder on the government’s part that the IPC are now desperately trying to fix. 

Beomgyu should really heed that warning, but X had a history of picking teenage girls and women in their twenties who had long brown hair as his victims. There’s no way he would show up in Beomgyu’s neighbourhood all of a sudden and pick him as a victim, right?

He takes the elevator along with his neighbour, who looks a lot more anxious than he is about being out late at night. She gives him a quick nod, then disappears into her apartment with a quiet click of her door.

The house is dark, but Beomgyu immediately senses an energy shift. He freezes, keeping his hand on his doorknob. He’s unarmed— he didn’t think he would need both the self-defence tool and panic button the IPC gave him on a quick convenience store run. Of all days for Murphy’s Law to come through, today’s the worst of them all.

Beomgyu is very familiar with X. Kai had been the one who took on the case and put him behind bars. It’s with his comprehensive understanding of X that he knows he’s fucked. 

Kai, Beomgyu realises with a start. If X is here, where is Kai? Is he okay?

“Who’s there?” 

A beat of silence.

“You didn’t bring your call button with you.” 

Relief floods Beomgyu at once. He quickly flips the light switch on, his knees going weak when he sees Kai seated on his couch. For once, while Kai looks a bit roughed up, he isn’t covered in blood. Beomgyu collapses onto the floor.

“Kai, fuck.” Beomgyu whimpers, nearly dizzy from the relief. “I thought— I thought you were hurt—“ 

“Easy,” Strong arms wrap around his waist, scooping him up. Without thinking, Beomgyu wraps his arms around Kai’s neck. 

“I was so scared—“

Kai pulls him close and walks over to the couch, “Shh, I got you.” 

Kai is safe. He’s safe. Beomgyu presses his forehead into the crook of Kai’s neck. The younger smells like asphalt and smoke, a smell he’s come to associate with Kai with over the years. Briefly, Beomgyu wonders when was the last time he’d seen Kai in nice civilian clothes and sprayed his favourite perfume on. He hardly recalls a time anymore.

Kai settles him down on the couch, and Beomgyu smacks him hard on the chest, “Why were you sitting in the dark like that, scaring me half to death? You should know there’s a criminal on the loose right now!” 

“I—“ Kai grits his teeth, swallowing hard. 

He’s in pain. Beomgyu falters. 

“You’re injured?” 

Kai’s silence is all he needs. The younger can’t lie for shit, and often prefers to keep silent. He tugs at the collar of Kai’s suit, “strip.” 

“I’m not injured,” Kai says instantly, almost in reflex. Pretending to be fine when he isn’t comes so naturally to Kai it pisses Beomgyu off. 

“Do you want me to punch you again? Take off your clothes.” His eyes zero in on Kai’s chest, where a hidden camera lies, “and switch that off.” 

Kai looks down, his fingers brushing against it. He frowns slightly, “I can’t, I’m technically not off the clock—“

Beomgyu sucks in a deep breath. His patience has been worn so thin, he’s about to scream, “Look. I don’t care, and I am not repeating myself. Turn it off and strip. If upper management gives you shit for breaking protocol, I’ll go down and personally deliver hell to the fucking president himself if I have to.” 

Finally, Kai relents, lowering his gaze as he slowly peels the suit off. His movements are jerky and sluggish, as if each movement hurts. When Kai finally pulls the suit past his shoulders, he understands why. 

Splotches of blue, purple and green litter all over Kai’s torso, some so deep that it almost looks black. It looks as if Kai had been repeatedly hit with a blunt force. The sheer amount of bruises revealed makes Beomgyu’s stomach churn and bile crawl up his throat. 

“Kai,” his voice trembles as he jumps to his feet, “these are not just bruises— you need professional treatment. I can’t help you.” 

“I’m fine, I wasn’t hit that hard,” Kai insists stubbornly. Pain and exhaustion mar his features, but he keeps his smile steady. He wraps a hand around Beomgyu’s wrist—focused on comforting Beomgyu even while he sits there with a battered torso. Beomgyu wishes he could just stop this. “I just need to ice them later.” 

“Not that hard? You’re not fine— Kai, these are not just bruises you get from bumping yourself against the counter. I— I don’t even need to be medically trained to tell you there’s definitely internal bleeding or— or trauma to your organs.” 

Beomgyu can’t treat this, there’s nothing he can do. Kai’s hurt and there’s nothing he can do. His hands start to shake. 

“Gyu—”

“I’m— I’m going to get you ice.” 

Beomgyu rushes over to the fridge, grabs several large bags of frozen food, wraps them in a towel each, and brings them back to Kai. Can ice even do anything for internal bleeding this severe? He quickly passes Kai the larger bags of ice, then kneels to press a smaller bag to Kai’s ankle, where it looks a little swollen.

“Call Yeonjun now, you need to get these treated.” 

There’s nothing else he can do. It’s all internal. If Kai had arrived with external injuries, he could have helped. But it’s not. He can’t help. Beomgyu can’t fucking help this time. What is he going to do? 

“Beomgyu,” Kai says gently, resting a hand on his arm, “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

Beomgyu wishes Kai would stop lying. Kai is not as difficult to read as he thinks he is. He can see the pain as clear as day on Kai’s face. 

“Do the past years not mean anything?” Beomgyu looks Kai dead in the eyes, “Why do you feel like you still can’t be honest around me?”

Kai bites his lips and looks away. 

Silence. 

It stings like rejection. Beomgyu swallows the lump forming in his throat. 

“Fine. But you’re still getting it checked out.” 

Kai sighs, and it angers him, “I can’t. I need to get back onto the field immediately. I’m just here to tell you something.” 

“Why can’t you just— stop?” Beomgyu cries. He’s so sick of this. It's all they ever argue about, whether they are together or not. “Stop pretending to be fine and stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”

“But I’m fine!” Kai protests, slowly growing frustrated. “It’s just bruises this time. I wasn’t shot nor stabbed. I’m fine.” 

“You’re not!” 

“I am!” Kai yells, and Beomgyu stumbles backwards, stunned. In all their arguments, Kai has never yelled or raised his voice. Kai blinks, face falling, expression immediately morphing into guilt. 

“I’m sorry— I can’t. I’m running out of time.” 

There it is again. I can’t. Though he should be used to it by now, Beomgyu’s heart sinks. 

“Why? What time? Can’t you even go for a quick checkup? If you’re unfit for duty, can’t someone cover you? We pay so much in taxes every year, and the IPC is still understaffed?” 

Beomgyu grabs Kai’s hand, pleading, “What is so important about those civilians that you keep leaving me behind? I love you. You’re my loved one, but why are you not keeping him safe?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Kai apologises, and Beomgyu sighs, dropping Kai’s hand in defeat. It’s nothing new at this point. What was he even hoping for?

Beomgyu really doesn’t want to cry again—it feels like that’s all he’s been doing these days—but the exhaustion of clinging onto hope only to have it broken time and again is just too much. He feels so fucking foolish doing this to himself again and again when he knows what the results are each time. 

“Baby, please, don’t cry.” Kai murmurs, pained, brushing his tears away with calloused fingers. 

Beomgyu slumps against the couch, pressing his forehead into his own knees. 

“Beomgyu,” Kai shakes his shoulders, and when he doesn’t respond, he sinks to the ground next to Beomgyu. Arms snake around his middle, while a hand guides his cheek to rest on Kai’s shoulder.

“I love you, and I’m so sorry,” Kai’s voice comes out muffled. Beomgyu neither sobs nor cries this time, just lets his tears stream steadily down Kai’s neck. There should be relief, but there isn’t—all he feels is a hollow in his chest.

“I don’t know anymore. You don’t tell me anything. Aren’t we supposed to be honest and open with each other? You ignore my concerns and shut me out when I ask why, going as far as to agree to us breaking up instead of being honest with me. How is that loving me?” 

Beomgyu pulls away, cupping Kai’s cheeks. “Be honest with me now, please? I can’t take this anymore, it’s killing me.” 

Kai takes a deep, shuddery breath, close to tears. “It started when I was promoted to fifth.” 

Beomgyu’s heart rate picks up speed as Kai begins to finally give him the explanation he’d been wanting for so long. No longer having to put up a front, a heavy shadow hangs above Kai, exhaustion, fear and pain painting his features.

“Before I was fifth, I was nineteenth. You know that.” Beomgyu nods.

“I was assisting back then. I wasn’t yet calling the shots, but the exposure to types of cases I’d assist in was wildly different to what I used to do before. The things they did were downright cruel. It made all the crimes I dealt with before feel like petty crimes.”

“With it came more danger. These were villains who weren’t afraid to kill. I knew I was hurting myself a lot more often and wanted to stop, but every time I see a victim, I see you in their place, and it drives me crazy with paranoia and fear.” 

“I wish I never became a hero. Or at least was never promoted.” Kai admits quietly, curling in on himself. The statement takes Beomgyu by surprise. He grabs Kai’s hands and clutches them tighter when he realises they’re trembling. 

“I had no idea.”

“I got that promotion because I helped catch that shadow monster, X. I will never forget the moment he looked me dead in the eyes and swore he’d come for my family once he’s out. It terrified me. I’m now on his hit list. I put you in danger.”

Kai is shaking now, “X is out for revenge, and he’ll use any means necessary to get back at those who put him in jail. I can’t let him get to you first. I need to kill him—they want him dead or alive.”

He gasps, pressing his face into his palms, “I can’t— he’s coming— I can’t stop now—“

Beomgyu pulls Kai closer, hugging him tightly. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m safe. 

“I’m sorry,” Kai grips the back of his shirt. “I’m sorry, I put you in danger, I made you cry. I never wanted to hurt you—“

He shushes Kai, patting his head gently. “I’m not clueless, Kai. I signed up for the danger that might come when I agreed to a relationship. I just wish you had been honest with me from the beginning. I’m not scared.” 

Kai shakes his head, “You should be. I’ve— I’ve seen the kinds of things he’s capable of.” 

Beomgyu sighs and continues holding Kai. He feels the fear laced in Kai’s words, the same unshakable paranoia that he’s all too familiar with. They both just want each other to be safe don’t they?

“After this, I’ll do better. I promise I’ll do better.” Kai murmurs. 

A promise at this stage feels mostly like empty words. It doesn’t give Beomgyu hope as it should, because nothing changes. Kai is still going after X anyway.

“Yeonjun will be here soon. He’s taking you to my safehouse where you’ll stay for the time being.” Kai begins to pull away, and panic sizes his chest. Kai is going to leave again. Beomgyu grabs tightly onto him.

“No, stay—” Beomgyu pleads. Kai can’t leave, not yet, “stay with me. Then I’ll be safe won’t I?”

“Until he arrives.” Beomgyu hurriedly tacks on when Kai looks hesitant. “When he’s here, I’ll head to your safe house. So just stay with me until then.”

“I’m sorry,” Kai whispers, and Beomgyu’s grip finally slackens.

-

Beomgyu doesn’t know how long he stays on the couch for, staring at the blade in his hands. It could be minutes or even hours when he finally stands, pocketing the panic button. 

It’s deathly quiet in the apartment. Like the silence in Beomgyu’s head. He keeps the blade in his hands, testing the grip as he heads to the kitchen for a drink.

The balcony door creaks open, and Beomgyu whips his head around. He hardly gets a second to react before he’s being shoved up against the wall, a hand wrapped around his neck. 

A skeletal, goat-like head with purple glowing horns. He chokes, free hand coming to grab at his throat, but to no avail. 

“X,” Beomgyu croaks. It’s getting harder to breathe. 

“Yes, Choi Beomgyu. It seems like our little Kai came here to warn you about me, but he failed to notice me lurking in the shadows.” The goat head narrows its eyes into slits, sneering. “Oh I’d love to kill you both together, but where’s the fun in that? I should leave our lovely hero a present instead.” 

Beomgyu tries to keep his breath shallow and steady, and the grip around his neck deprives him slowly of oxygen. Despite having X’s hand around his throat, he doesn’t panic. In face of death, he finds himself calmer than he should be. 

The panic button sits in his back pocket. He could drop his knife and grab the button, and be killed. Or he could plunge it into X’s neck while he’s busy running his mouth, injure him before he’s killed.

Beomgyu really wishes he could see Kai one last time. To apologise for making selfish demands, for breaking them apart, and to hold him close, even if its just for several minutes. 

A tear escapes, and X cackles. 

Beomgyu takes a breath and plunges his knife into X’s neck. 

—

Glass shards crack under his boots, each step leaving red prints in its wake. 

The city is quiet today, a lockdown imposed just minutes ago. X made his first move tonight.

Kai flicks on the switch. 

Blood, so much blood.

Yeonjun is slumped in the corner, a streak of blood above him, another puddle pooling where he sits. There’s another figure, in the center of the room. 

His vision is blurry, hot tears streaming down his cheeks, as he falls to his knees. The glass shards dig into his flesh, but he can’t feel the pain. 

“Yeonjun. Yeonjun wake up.” 

Beomgyu is bleeding everywhere—his torso and beautiful brown hair is entirely caked with dark red, the puddle of blood below him growing bigger with every minute. 

Kai is running out of time, but his hands are shaking— he can’t breathe— 

Kai screams, “Yeonjun, wake up, damn it! I don’t know what to do!” 

He tries to stem the blood flow with his hands. It’s soft where his skull should be hard, and he cries harder, holds Beomgyu closer who is eerily still in his hands. 

Kai presses on his comms, “Someone please, help.”

He cries, and cries, and cries.