Archive of Our Own

The first punch sends Keonho flying through the television display. Thirty screens explode simultaneously.

“Well, shit.”

Keonho peels himself out of the wreckage just in time to duck beneath another swing. A metal gauntlet whistles over his head.

The guy robbing the electronics store had introduced himself as Shockwave or Thunderfist or some equally embarrassing variation of "person who discovered electricity powers and is making it everybody else's problem."

Honestly, Keonho had tuned out of his monologue less than halfway through.

Mostly because it was eleven thirty on a Thursday night.

And because he had a chemistry midterm at eight tomorrow morning.

And because he was currently being assaulted in a literal Best Buy.

“Hey, Shock—Electro—-Man—whatever, can we wrap this up?” Keonho asks, backflipping over a display of laptops. “I have way too many hybridization reactions to memorize.”

The man roars, which frankly, is not the response Keonho had been looking for.

A glowing fist collides with the floor, cracking spiderweb through the tile.

“Okay, cool.”

Keonho fires a web at the ceiling, and launches himself upward.

“Just ignore me, it’s fine.”

The villain tears an entire shelf from the ground.

Keonho stares.

"You know those cost money, right?"

The shelf comes flying toward him.

"Never mind."

He swings sideways, and the shelf crashes into a wall. Behind it, a teenager still hiding between two aisles lets out a horrified squeak.

Immediately, Keonho drops.

"You okay?"

The kid blinks.

"W-what?"

“Are you okay?”

The kid nods frantically. Keonho smiled at him, then remembered the kid couldn’t see him, and opted for shooting him a thumbs-up instead.

“Awesome. Stay there.”

Then he gets blown across the store.

Again. He’s two for two here.

His back slams into a stack of washing machines, popping something in his shoulder unpleasantly.

“Ow.”

He rolls it once.

“Actually, ow.”

The villain starts advancing, and Keonho pushes himself upright.

Everything hurts, but not enough to matter. Enough to be a nuisance, but there was a difference.

"Look," he says, brushing dust from his suit, "I'm gonna be straight-up with you, dude."

The villain growls.

"My heart's not really in this tonight."

Another charge.

Keonho sighs.

Then his body moves before his brain can finish complaining. Years of instinct take over, ducking, stepping, pivoting, shooting a web.

The glowing gauntlet misses him by inches. Keonho yanks back, hard, and the man’s own momentum sends him crashing face-first into a display refrigerator.

The entire store rattles, and for a moment, everything is quiet.

Keonho sizes up the villain, standing on his tiptoes to assess the damage.

“Did…”

The villain groans.

“Did that work?”

Another groan.

“Hell yeah.”

The police arrive three minutes later. By then, Keonho has already helped two employees move debris away from an emergency exit and found someone's missing purse.

A little girl with pigtails tugs on his sleeve.

"Spider-Man?"

Keonho looks down.

"Yeah?"

"Did you win?"

His chest softens immediately. She’s adorable.

"Obviously."

The girl gasps.

"Cool."

"Thank you.”

She beams, before running back to her mother, who was awaiting her with open arms. Keonho watches her go.

And despite the exhaustion dragging at every muscle in his body—

despite the midterm.

Despite the bruises.

Despite the fact that Martin was absolutely going to yell at him for getting punched through another appliance—

he smiles.

Maybe being Spider-Man wasn't so bad.

Then he looks down.

A jagged piece of metal has sliced across his palm. Blood immediately starts dripping on the floor, leaving wet droplets on the cold floor.

Keonho blinks.

“...Seriously?”

Because somehow that was more annoying than being punched through six televisions. He sighs, dramatically.

“Juhoon better not be at the dorm right now.”

Swinging back to his dorm after a battle is either Keonho’s favourite or least favourite part of his day depending on these variables:

1. Did he win?
2. What time in the day is it? He prefers nighttime, but when he’s not on the brink of falling asleep.
3. Will Martin and Juhoon be making out on the couch when he gets back to his dorm?

Because that is not a jump-scare he needs after being thrown through a wall.
Assessing his situation right now, it feels somewhere in the middle. Yes he won, but he’s also exhausted, and with Martin and Juhoon, it is always a gamble. He’s learnt to assume the worst based on how many accidentally walked into things that altered his view on his friends.

Which, mind you, is the reason Keonho needs to keep spare clothes in his bag. Not for dramatic superhero reasons, but so Juhoon doesn’t see him still in the suit and develop questions Keonho does not have the emotional capacity to answer at 2 a.m.

Martin is a different story, being as they’ve known each other forever, and it was nearly impossible for Martin to not know as he was a journalist. And his roommate, but honestly, the journalist part is more important. Before Keonho had told Martin a thing, he was already on the brink of finding out.

And then, somehow, Martin became his self-appointed right hand man. Which sounds cool, in theory. In practice, it means Martin is lying for him constantly.

“Keonho’s busy.”

“Keonho’s sick.”

“Keonho’s trying a new…extracurricular activity?”

Whatever that means.

It also means Martin is always keeping bandages in his laptop case like it’s a part of his job description.

Which yeah, it basically is.

Then, Juhoon and Martin became a thing, which meant everywhere Martin was, so was Juhoon. Keonho wasn’t complaining—he loved the two of them together, really. It just makes everything slightly more complicated when he shows up bleeding at 1 a.m. and has a person to lie to about it.

Martin really wanted to tell Juhoon, Keonho knew that. They’ve had the conversation more than once, usually when Martin is peeling gauze onto his knuckles while sighing like a disappointed parent.

But Keonho always shuts it down.

Not because he doesn’t trust Juhoon.

He does, it’s more…statistical paranoia.

If enough people know something, eventually it stops being something that can stay safe.

So for now, it’s just Martin.

But Keonho really did want to tell all their friends. Juhoon was calm in a way that felt stabilizing. James, because he’s older, and probably the only responsible adult of their entire group.

Who Keonho really wanted to tell, was Seonghyeon.

Seonghyeon, who has been his best friend and long-term crush for years.

They met in middle school when Keonho was too shy to go to the bathroom in the middle of class, and before the whole radioactive-spider-superhero-fiasco thing happened.

It was when Seonghyeon had helped Keonho find his first class, that Keonho knew he was gone.

Seonghyeon was consistently kind. Funny, too, in a way that made Keonho feel like he was in on something. And he was infuriatingly easy to look at, which Keonho definitely didn’t notice at first.

Definitely.

Eventually, something clicked into place. He wanted—immediately, instinctively—to stay near him.

To be wherever Seonghyeon was.

Now, years later, nothing has really changed.

Except everything is worse, and more complicated, because now, along with everything, Keonho has a title stuck to him. A title with weight, responsibility.

A title that means something.

He knew all his friends were trustworthy people, but at the end of the day, it came down to the fear that they were going to see him differently.

There was a difference between Spider-Man—the idea, the symbol, the thing people respected—

and Keonho.

He’s pretty sure if he’d even tried to tell them, they’d laugh in his face. Affectionately.

Take Martin—the boy was already onto him, and still needed Keonho to climb walls as proof.

Keonho lands lightly on the fire escape outside their building, chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths.

The adrenaline is fading now. It leaves behind a dull, familiar ache that settles into his shoulders.

Before he pushes the window open, he checks his phone.

A text from Martin: don’t have to worry, just come right in

There’s another from Seonghyeon: a stupid Tiktok and a, “this is lowk us”.

Keonho smiles, before pushing the window open with his elbow. It slides open with a soft metal complaint.

Martin doesn’t even look up from his laptop.

“You’re late.”

Keonho drops inside headfirst, landing in a crouch that immediately turns into him just… sitting there. On the floor.

“Traffic.” Keonho says.

“You swing through the sky.”

“And I have to avoid the birds!”

Martin finally glances over his screen, his gaze sliding slowly over Keonho.

Suit torn at the shoulder.

Small burn mark across the ribcage.

Blood on the palm of Keonho’s glove, where it was split open.

“Nice,” Martin raises his brow. “That one’s new.”

Keonho perks up slightly.

“Right? I thought so too.”

Martin closes his laptop, which in his language was equivalent to rolling up his sleeves and accepting his fate.

“Bathroom,” he says. “And sit on the counter.”

“I like sitting on the floor.”

“Bathroom.”

“Counter it is.”

Keonho obeys, but not without drama. He drags himself down the hall, exaggerated in a way that could’ve been funny if he wasn’t actively leaking. He leaves faint dirt smudges on the wall as he goes.

Martin follows, first-aid kit already in hand. Of course he has a first-aid kit.

He has three.

One in the drawer, one in the bathroom, one in his bag.

“Take the top off,” Martin says.

“I can do it myself.”

“At school today, I saw you walk into a desk.”

“I was distracted.”

“Yeah, by Seonghyeon.”

“Which is a valid distraction.”

Martin starts cleaning the wound, and the antiseptic stings immediately. Keonho hisses.

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I got thrown into a vending machine.”

“Yeah, and I bet it’s still standing.”

Keonho leans back slightly, resting his head against the mirror cabinet. His eyes flick toward the ceiling.

Martin notices the moment the silence changes.

It always does.

“So,” Martin says carefully, “did anything interesting happen today?”

Keonho thinks for a moment.

“Well, I saw Seonghyeon.”

“You see Seonghyeon every day.”

Keonho hums, then pauses.

“Yeah, but he looked extra pretty today.”

Martin freezes with a gauze pad mid-air. He laughs, exasperated.

“God, Keonho.”

Keonho sits up slightly.

“I’m just saying. Objectively.”

“There is nothing objective about this.”

“He was wearing that hoodie—”

“Stop.”

“And he smiled at me—”

“Stop talking.”

Keonho continues anyway, sighing dreamily.

“And I think I forgot how to function for a second. Seriously”

Martin stares at him. Sometimes, he gets this look that makes Keonho think he’s watching his downfall.

“Do you think,” Keonho says suddenly, voice softer now, “if Seonghyeon knew I was Spider-Man, he’d think I was cool?”

Martin slowly sets the gauze down.

“No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

“Keonho.”

“What?”

“Please develop self-preservation that isn’t emotionally dependent on a boy with good jaw structure.”

Keonho sighs.

“Okay but what if I was REALLY heroic and a little tragic about it?”

Martin pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Shut up.”

“I think he’d want to know.” Keonho says, quieter.

Martin looks at him again, but drops the sarcasm.

“...yeah. He would.”

Martin resumes cleaning the wound more gently now.

“Did you at least win?” he asks.

Keonho hums.

“Yeah.”

“Was it cool?”

“Always.”

“Tell me about it when my brain is working again.”

Keonho purses his lips, something clearly on his mind.

“Do you think if I told him, he’d like me more?”

Martin doesn’t even look up.

“Seonghyeon already likes you.”

“No, like—likes me.”

Martin finally meets his eyes.

“…you’re insufferable late at night.”

Keonho smiles faintly.

“You’re worse during the day.”

Because he is. Keonho knows the moment Martin gets an energy drink into his bloodstream, he’ll be bouncing off the walls. It’s the duality of Martin, really. Martin wraps the bandage around his hand tightly.

“Try not to die before finals,” he says. “It would be inconvenient.”

“I’ll put it on my schedule.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

Despite his usual demeanor, Martin worries a lot. Keonho’s pretty sure he’s one of the only people who sees the true extent of his worry. He’s also pretty sure he raises his blood pressure.

Nonetheless, Keonho’s grateful.

Really grateful.

He highly doubts he could do this alone. Especially him a few years back when he still couldn’t aim properly.

Martin ties off the bandage and flicks Keonho lightly on the forehead.

“Go shower.”

“I already got hit with water earlier.”

“That was an explosion.”

Keonho stands slowly, then hesitates at the door.

“Hey Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Martin’s eyebrows furrow, and he suddenly reaches out, grabbing Keonho’s arm. He pulls him into a tight hug, causing Keonho to squeak from lack of air flow.

“Of course, you idiot.”

Keonho laughs softly anyway, arms lifting slightly before settling into it.

“…you’re weird.”

Keonho arrived at lunch five minutes late, which is pretty early by his standards.

He beelines to their table immediately after grabbing food. The cafeteria is loud and stimulating exactly in the way he needs as a distraction after whatever the hell the midterm he just took was. He finds Martin using his thumb to wipe something off of Juhoon’s face. Disgusting, really.

Seonghyeon is laughing at something James said, head thrown back and eyes crinkling. There is an open seat beside him that Keonho slides on to.

“Guess who just failed chem?”

Seonghyeon looks to his side and raises a brow, the corner of his lip turning up.

“You didn’t.”

“I’m really hoping I didn’t.” Keonho smiles, because it seems to be his body's instinctual reaction upon seeing Seonghyeon.

He wasn’t wearing anything special today. A beanie, grey striped shirt, jeans. Keonho thought he looked handsome.

He also thought his shoulders looked extra good, but that’s beside the matter.

He brings a hand up to Seonghyeon’s head, adjusting the beanie.

“I like this.”

Seonghyeon makes no effort to move his hand.

“I wear it, like, all the time. It’s the only beanie I own.”

Keonho makes a mental note about future birthday gifts.

“I like it because you wear it so much.”

“You guys are unbearable.” Martin groans, emphasizing the last word.

James scoffs.

“They’re unbearable? Look at the two of you.” He gestures wildly between Juhoon and Martin. “It’s barely noon and you’re all over each other.”

Martin seems to take this personally, sputtering some excuse to James.

“Hey, what happened?” Keonho feels Seonghyeon tap his thigh.

“What?”

Seonghyeon nods his head towards Keonho’s hand.

“You’re hand.”

Crap. Keonho forgot he was still wearing the bandage Martin put on last night. He meant to remove it this morning—the wound was undoubtedly healed due to weird spider-powers, it must’ve slipped his mind with all the worry about chemistry.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Really? Because that’s a pretty big bandage.” Seonghyeon looks concerned, and it immediately makes Keonho feel bad.

“No, I promise.” Keonho then undoes the bandage, flexing his hand to Seonghyeon. The skin there was perfectly smooth and healed.

“Oh, weird.” Seonghyeon takes Keonho’s hand in his, flipping his palm over to inspect. “Why were you wearing it then?”

“Uh…” Keonho blinks for a few seconds, only focused on the fact that Seonghyeon was holding his hand. Kind of. “Fashion statement?”

Seonghyeon narrows his eyes.

“That’s the worst lie you’ve ever told.”

“I’ve told worse lies,” Keonho says immediately.

“Name one.”

“I—”

No, I don’t just have a really weak immune system, I’m actually running off to fight crime.

Yeah, that wasn’t gonna fly.

Seonghyeon’s thumb brushes over healed skin once, thoughtless and caring.

“You should be more careful.”

Keonho laughs under his breath.

“I am.”

“You have a bandage, and a wound that doesn’t exist.”

“Because I heal efficiently.”

“That’s not what—” Seonghyeon starts, then stops, like he decided that arguing with Keonho wasn’t worth it. It usually wasn’t.

James clears his throat.

“If we’re done with the ‘Keonho is medically mysterious’ arc,” he says, “I would like to eat my lunch before it becomes dinner.”

Martin leans across Juhoon’s shoulder.

“I vote we start a pool on how long it takes before Seonghyeon realizes he’s basically—”

Juhoon kicks him under the table.

“Ow—okay—woah. Abuse.”

Seonghyeon finally lets go of Keonho’s hand, but only to steal a fry from his tray without asking.

“I would have said yes if you asked.”

“I know.” Seonghyeon shrugs. “That’s why I just took one.”

Martin sighs, dramatically.

“They’re soulmates.” he declares to the table. “I’m surrounded by soulmates and idiots.”

“Which are you?” Juhoon asks.

“Both,” Martin says proudly.

James stands up.

“I’m way too grown for this.”

“Hey, don’t leave.” Martin protests, dragging out the last syllable.

“Come with me to dance club with me then!” James calls over his shoulder.

“Over my dead body!” Martin yells back, but James is already out of earshot. “There is not enough money you could pay me.” He grumbles to Juhoon, who just laughs and pats his back.

And then everything returns to normal. Loud, chaotic, and familiar.

Keonho wouldn’t have it any other way.

Keonho hears Seonghyeon’s voice before he sees him.

It’s a Saturday afternoon when he was patrolling when he heard a string of curses that made his ears perk up. Only one person he knew who could sound so quietly violent. He turns around, and sees Seonghyeon crouched by a grate, peering down into it.

Keonho approaches before he could think anything of it.

“Hi—” Wait, he was in his Spider suit. He lowers his voice a few octaves before trying again.

“Hello sir. Are you okay?”

Seonghyeon turns around, squinting at the sun. Once he registers Keonho, his eyebrows climb higher on his forehead.

“Oh! Spider-Man!” He says. “Yes, I’m fine. I just dropped my phone down this stupid grate.” Seonghyeon kicks the grate once, for good measure.

Keonho wants to laugh, but Martin once told him he had a recognizable laugh, so he kept quiet.

“Uh, I could get it for you. If you want.” He scratches the back of his neck, voice still deepened.

“Oh, no it’s totally okay!” Seonghyeon waves his hands in front of his face. “I mean, if there’s other things—”

Keonho’s already on his knees, shooting a web down into the grate. When he retrieves it, he wipes it off on his suit before handing it back to Seonghyeon.

Keonho caught a glimpse of his phone background, which was a photobooth picture of the five of them. When Seonghyeon took the phone back, the background changed to a picture of him and Seonghyeon.

Keonho remembers that picture. James had taken it when Keonho had jumped on Seonghyeon’s back. Keonho had thought he was being annoying. It was sweet that Seonghyeon had made it one of his backgrounds. They looked happy in it.

“Thank you, Spider-Man.” Seonghyeon smiles.

“Uh, all in a day’s work, sir.” Keonho wanted to punch himself. That was the stupidest thing he’s ever heard himself say, and he’s said some pretty stupid things.

Seonghyeon's smile twitches.

"Do people actually say that?"

God, what is Keonho doing?

Seonghyeon tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, before thankfully, continuing.

“So, are things looking good recently? Y’know, crime-wise?”

Keonho rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. He’s sure that if he had pockets, his hands would be stuffed inside.

“Oh, totally. Nothing to worry about here. It’s actually kind of boring for me out here. Not that this job is ever boring, I mean…” Keonho trails off. He wasn’t really sure where he was going with that.

Seonghyeon giggles, and Keonho feels something in his chest melt. Seonghyeon then tilts his head, observing Keonho.

Oh god.

What if he was figuring something out?

“Well, it was nice seeing you Seo—” Keonho’s soul leaves his body. “Sir. I’ll catch you later! Duty awaits.”

Keonho shoots a web towards a building, and swings off. When Keonho glances back, Seonghyeon is still standing there. Looking confused, and somehow, amused.

Which may just be worse.

Keonho narrowly misses a streetlight.

In his defense, it was difficult to focus after telling Seonghyeon crime was unusually quiet before dramatically swinging away because "duty awaited."

Particularly because there was, at present, absolutely no duty awaiting him.

A few days later, the five of them are studying in the library.

‘Studying’ was a broad term for what they were actually doing.

It means Martin and Juhoon whispering about something or other, James pretending he’s working while watching hockey highlights, and Keonho doodling in the margin of his notes.

Seonghyeon is supposed to be reviewing biology. Instead, he is sketching.

Again.

“Are you even listening?” James asks.

"Yeah."

"What's the powerhouse of the cell?"

"...mitochondria? James, we learned this in sixth grade."

"Okay, fair."

James leans over.

Then pauses.

"Oh my God."

Immediately, everyone looks up.

"What?" Keonho asks.

James pries Seonghyeon’s notebook out of his hands, before slowly turning it around to show the rest of them.

Right in the middle, is a detailed drawing of Spider-Man.

Not even just a little doodle. It's actually a good drawing. The suit, mask, web shooters, he’s got it all. There are even three smaller sketches in the margin of cartoon Spider-Man with a big head.

Seonghyeon immediately reaches for the notebook.

James jerks it away.

"No, no, no. Explain."

"It's just a sketch."

"Of Spider-Man."

"So?"

"You're obsessed with him."

"I am not."

James points at the page.

“You drew cheekbones. You can’t even see cheekbones through the mask!”

"I draw everyone's cheekbones."

"Not like that."

Juhoon finally glances up from his laptop.

"You did spend twenty minutes telling us about how he helped you with your phone."

"He was nice."

James gasps dramatically. Martin, on the other hand, is fighting for his life.

Meanwhile, Keonho is sitting perfectly still. He’s not sure what stage of fight-or-flight he’s in, but his heart may just beat out of his chest.

"Guys," Seonghyeon groans. "Can we move on?"

"No."

James folds his hands.

"What exactly do you like about Spider-Man? I just don’t get it. He’s cool and all, but…"

Keonho should not be interested in Seonghyeon’s answer, and yet, he cannot bring himself to put his headphones back on.

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer. Try again!”

Seonghyeon sighs, then shrugs.

“He’s nice.” He repeats.

Keonho hopes he can only feel the heat crawling up his neck, and that he’s not turning visibly red.

"Nice?" James repeats.

"Yeah."

"Not the super strength thing?"

"Not really."

"The whole saving people thing?"

"I mean, that's really cool."

James narrows his eyes.

“So what is it then?”

Seonghyeon thinks for a second, before smiling slightly.

“I don’t know, he was kind of awkward.”

“What?” James looks genuinely aghast.

Seonghyeon taps his pencil against his notebook.

“Like, he’s kind of weird.”

“Weird?” Martin blurts.

"Yeah."

"He saved your phone."

"And then immediately got nervous and ran away."

Keonho wants the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"He kept calling me 'sir,'" Seonghyeon continues.

"And?"

"And it was like, awkwardly charming."

Martin has fully stopped pretending to study. Juhoon was listening in too. Seonghyeon doesn’t notice.

“He just seems a little familiar.”

That gets Keonho's attention immediately.

"What?" he says before he can stop himself.

Seonghyeon looks over.

Their eyes meet.

For half a second, Keonho wonders if he somehow knows.

Then Seonghyeon smiles.

"Nah."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Keonho stares. Seonghyeon just shakes his head, and gets back to drawing.

Across the table, Martin is looking at Keonho with the expression of someone watching a car drive directly toward a brick wall.

Keonho mouths:

what?

Martin mouths:

You’re both idiots.

The next time Spider-Man saw Seonghyeon was when he was about to walk into a bike.

That boy really has a knack for disaster.

Keonho stops him before he can make contact with the bike rack, shooting a web which catches on to Seonghyeon’s hood, dragging him backwards.

Seonghyeon’s arms flail for a second, falling backwards. Keonho zips forward to catch him before he can hit the ground.

“Woah—Spider-Man?” Seonghyeon asks, dusting himself off after Keonho sets him on the ground.

“Hi, uh, sir. What’s your name, actually?” Keonho hates pretending if he doesn’t say it on a daily basis.

“Oh, it’s Seonghyeon.” Seonghyeon extends his arm for a handshake. “What about you?”

“It’s Spiderman. Did you really think I was going to fall for that?” Keonho’s eyes narrow through the mask.

Seonghyeon shrugs, playfully.

“Worth a shot.”

For a second, neither of them move. Keonho immediately regrets not leaving.

“So do you always save people from bike racks?” Seonghyeon asks.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Usually it’s a different vehicle. Or like, explosions, occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“It’s been a weird month.”

Seonghyeon laughs, and the sound hits Keonho directly in the chest.

“Do you get days off?”

“What?”

“Like, are there Spider-Man vacation days?”

Keonho blinks. Nobody had ever asked him that before.

“I don't think crime respects statutory holidays.”

“That's rough. I’m sorry.” Seonghyeon deadpans.

“Thank you. Finally someone understands.”

Seonghyeon grins.

“You’re funny.”

“I know.” Keonho shrugs, anything but humble.

Honestly, Seonghyeon always did this. Somehow every conversation with him felt like trying to run downhill. One second you were standing perfectly still and the next you were moving too fast to stop.

It’s like how Keonho switched from being hyper aware about every syllable that left his mouth, to admitting that he is in fact, hilarious.

Seonghyeon tilts his head, examining Keonho.

“Y’know, you really remind me of somebody I know.”

Keonho panics.

“Oh really? Dude—sir—Seonghyeon, that’s so weird! Isn’t that weird, I don’t—”

“Don’t worry,” Seonghyeon cuts him off. “He’s cute.”

“T-that’s really nice. For you. And whoever he is.” Keonho needs to abort mission immediately. “Well, I need to get going. Please don’t walk into any other bike racks in the future.”

Keonho swings off before he can hear a reply.

For approximately three buildings, his brain ceases functioning.

Cute.

Cute?

Seonghyeon thought whoever Spider-Man reminded him of was cute.

Which was great, except Spider-Man reminded him of Keonho.

Which meant—

No, it meant nothing.

People call puppies cute. People call babies cute. People call jean shorts cute.

It was a completely normal thing to say. Keonho nearly swings directly into a traffic light.

“Crap.”

A woman walking her dog looks up.

“Language, Spider-Man!”

“Sorry!”

The dog barks, and Keonho keeps swinging. His face burns beneath the mask. Seonghyeon didn’t mean cute. If he did, he meant it in a platonic way. Maybe he meant—

Actually no, the bigger issue here is Seonghyeon is starting to notice similarities. Assuming that who Spider-Man reminds him of is Keonho, not James or some shit.

Which was bad. Very, catastrophically, extremely bad.

Martin is going to have a field day when he hears about this one.

By the time he lands on a rooftop, he has fully convinced himself that he is either moments away from being discovered or moments away from having a heart attack.

Possibly both.

The first time Spider-Man landed on Seonghyeon's balcony, it really wasn't intentional.

There had been a robbery three blocks away that had somehow escalated into a car chase, an explosion, and a man attempting to hit him with a stop sign.

Which felt pretty excessive.

By the time Keonho had wrapped up, his lungs ached.

He wasn’t injured, just tired.

He spotted a random dorm balcony with the lights off and dropped onto it without thinking, intending to sit there for thirty seconds before leaving.

The balcony door slid open immediately. Keonho nearly launched himself off the railing.

Seonghyeon stepped outside holding a bowl of instant ramen.

The two of them stared at each other.

"...Spider-Man?"

"...Seonghyeon?"

A beat.

“You remember my name?”

Keonho’s soul left his body.

“...Yes?”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

Keonho considered jumping off the balcony right then, because his quick witty self was having a hard time finding the quickness and the witiness.

Instead he pointed aggressively at the ramen.

"Is that spicy?"

Seonghyeon looked down at the bowl.

"...yes?"

"Cool."

Another pause.

"Are you okay?" Seonghyeon asked.

That was the thing. Nobody really asked him that except Martin. Martin, who knew who he was, and cared.

Civilians, reporters, strangers taking pictures don’t ask. Which is fine, seriously. None of them have any sort of obligation to him. Because really, none of them know who he is. They ask if the city is okay, if the villain was caught. If they were safe.

"Yeah," Keonho said quietly.

Then, because he was incapable of lying to Seonghyeon even through a mask:

"...a little tired."

Something softened in Seonghyeon's expression.

"Oh."

Then he held out the ramen.

"Want some?"

“Uh, I’m okay. Can’t really do spicy food.”

Seonghyeon quirks a brow.

“You face near-death every single day and you draw the line at spicy noodles?”

“Uh, I guess.”

Seonghyeon ponders for a moment.

“That’s so weird…” He trails off, muttering something to himself. Keonho’s heightened senses catch his name coming from Seonghyeon’s mouth, and he takes it as a queue to leave.

“Well, I should probably get home. Thanks for letting me stay, Seonghyeon.”

Keonho tips off the balcony, catching himself with a web. As he swings away he hears Seonghyeon call out,

“Anytime!”

Which was an offer Keonho probably shouldn't have taken as seriously as he did.

It was just that a few days later, he realizes he’s nearby during patrol. When he notices the balcony, he cannot stop wondering if Seonghyeon would be there or not.

Naturally, he lands by the balcony anyway.

Seonghyeon is sitting there, doing homework. He looks up, unfazed.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Getting mauled today?”

“Eh, it’s been worse.”

“Rough.”

From then on, Seonghyeon’s balcony had become Spider-Man’s favourite place to hang out.

Seonghyeon didn’t seem to mind either. He’d actually leave things out for Keonho. Snacks, a blanket, sometimes he had cute band aids with Hello Kitty on them. That’s one of the things Keonho likes so much about Seonghyeon—he somehow manages to care for him as Spider-Man and Keonho.

He’s also just really great company. He’s a conversationalist, so Keonho doesn’t have to be. He talks about school, work, Martin, James, Juhoon, and sometimes even Keonho, which Keonho has to admit, is a little strange to hear.

He likes learning—or he guesses, relearning things about Seonghyeon. It’s different from how he is with Keonho. Seonghyeon would never describe the things the way he does with Spider-Man, because he assumes Keonho already knows them.

Seonghyeon also asks about him. Keonho tells him as much as he can within the circumstances, and it’s nice to have someone actually care about the things that Seonghyeon does. He asks about Keonho’s values. Why he does what he does. What he hopes and dreams for.

No one asks Spider-Man those questions.

Usually they want to know about his powers. Or how he swings in between buildings without throwing up. And sure, Seonghyeon has a question or two, but it isn’t excessive.

Mainly, he wants to know about Keonho.

At some point, Keonho stopped landing on the balcony because it happened to be nearby.

Now he finds himself adjusting routes, taking longer paths home.

One night, he realized he'd spent twenty minutes staring at the skyline because Seonghyeon hadn't come outside yet. The realization had hit him like a truck. He had been waiting for Seonghyeon.

Which is pathetic, because he already had a crush on Seonghyeon.

He didn’t need to develop a second one while wearing spandex.

Still, he kept coming back.

Especially on nights like this one, where he’ll land softly on a railing, and Seonghyeon will look up from his laptop.

He’ll immediately smile, and God help him, Keonho thinks that might be becoming his favourite part.

The next afternoon, Keonho found himself at the grocery store with the rest of the group because James insisted their dorm was severely lacking cereal.

That might have been because Seonghyeon had unknowingly been feeding it all to Keonho.

Maybe that’s why Keonho felt obligated to go on this group outing. That, and because James was threatening all of them.

"I'm serious," James said, pushing a cart. "If I walk into our kitchen and see one more lonely pack of noodles, I'm dropping out.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” Juhoon observes.

“No, because that pack has been there since September.”

Martin grimaced.

"Yeah, I've seen it."

"Why?"

"Sometimes I like checking if it's still there."

Keonho’s only half listening to the conversation. He’s unfortunately already distracted. Halfway through the store, he disappeared.

Nobody noticed for nearly five minutes.

"Where's Keonho?" Juhoon asked.

The group stops in their tracks. There was a collective moment of silence, before Seonghyeon sighs.

“Kitchen aisle.”

"He could be anywhere."

"No." Seonghyeon sounded very confident. "Kitchen aisle."

Sure enough, they found him staring at a miniature waffle maker.

“Yo, Seonghyeon, do you want waffles shaped like dinosaurs?”

James closes his eyes.

“We’re here for groceries.”

"But look."

"It is six inches tall."

"Exactly."

"Put it down."

Keonho reluctantly returned the waffle maker to the shelf. As they continued shopping, Seonghyeon found himself repeatedly intercepting disasters.

"Keonho, your receipt."

"Oh."

"Keonho, your card."

"Oh."

"Keonho, your drink."

"Oh."

Martin watched the exchange with a knowing smile.

"You've domesticated him."

Seonghyeon looked horrified.

By the time they checked out, Keonho had somehow accumulated the majority of the bags. Nobody knew how. Not even Keonho.

Yet somehow he emerged from the grocery store carrying enough supplies to survive a minor apocalypse.

"I got it," he insisted.

"You have seven bags."

"I'm literally—”

I’m literally Spider-Man.

“—really strong.”

“You haven’t broken six foot yet.”

“I’m taller than you, Seonghyeon.”

“Barely.”

One of the bags immediately slipped. Seonghyeon caught it before it hit the ground. Then he took three more from Keonho's hands.

"Hey."

“It’s fine, Keonho.”

“I’m very capable of carrying all of it.”

“I know you are.” Seonghyeon shrugs. “You just don’t have to.”

Keonho smiled to himself. He felt lighter.

Physically, and emotionally.

“Hey, remember Keonho? One of my friends I was telling you about.”

That gets Keonho’s attention. He was back on Seonghyeon’s balcony following a fight, and he was nearly sure he would’ve fallen asleep if Seonghyeon hadn’t said anything.

“Oh yeah, I do.”

“We went grocery shopping yesterday, and he somehow made it an expedition.”

Keonho laughs.

“That’s concerning.”

“He’s kind of bad at being a person.”

"Wow."

"I'm serious."

Keonho leans against the railing.

“Then why do you keep hanging out with him?”

Seonghyeon looks genuinely confused.

"What kind of question is that?"

Keonho immediately regrets asking.

“I mean—”

"He's my best friend."

The answer comes so quickly that it makes something warm bloom in Keonho's chest.

Seonghyeon purses his lips.

"Besides, he's always doing things for everyone else."

Keonho goes still.

“He is?”

“Oh yeah. All the time.”

Seonghyeon starts counting on his fingers.

“He remembers everyone’s birthdays. And always makes it a mission to make them special.”

Another finger.

“He knows everyone’s orders. For like coffee, and shit.”

Another.

“He used to cross campus daily to walk with Juhoon in between classes.”

Another.

“Once, he helped James clean and rearrange the entire dorm. He didn’t even tell anyone. I only found out when James mentioned it offhandedly.”

Keonho remembers that day. Seonghyeon had mentioned wanting to switch things up, and Keonho had asked James if they could surprise him.

"Honestly," Seonghyeon says, softer now, "I think people see him as kinda chaotic, or disorganized."

“Seems like it.”

Seonghyeon laughs.

“Yeah.”

Then, his smile turns fond.

"But they don't always notice how hard he tries."

Something catches in Keonho's throat.

"He worries about everybody."

Seonghyeon picks at the label on his drink.

"I don't think he realizes people worry about him too."

Keonho gulps. His mouth is staring to feel dry.

“Seems like you like the guy.” He croaks out, teasing.

“Of course I do! Everyone does.”

Keonho is so fucked.

The week had been hellish.

Seriously. It was the kind of hell that grinded a person down.

Quizzes. Exams. Patrol every night. A professor who rebuked the concept of sleep. Keonho couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten more than three consecutive hours.

Even his healing wasn’t keeping up the way it normally did. The cuts lingered for longer, the bruises stayed darker. And Martin had started looking at him with that expression. The one that made his brow furrow, and his lips purse, like he knew Keonho was about to become his problem.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Keonho is arguably not the best decision maker out there.

Tonight was supposed to be simple.

Maybe stop a mugging.

Maybe rescue a cat if the universe was feeling nostalgic.

Then he’d perhaps stop by Seonghyeon’s balcony, then go home to study and sleep.

Instead, half the city block was on fire.

“Cool, love that.” Keonho muttered, landing on a rooftop.

Sirens screamed below, people running sporadically.

Doctor Octopus stood in the middle of the street, four massive mechanical arms tearing through cars like they were made of paper.

Keonho's stomach dropped. Not this guy again.

"Seriously?"

Doc Ock looked up.

"Ah. There you are."

Great.

This was even worse. Because contrary to the other random foes Keonho’s been coming across lately, Doc Ock is far too recurring for his liking. Not to mention, how he won’t let up his plan of proving his intellectual superiority. Or was it world domination? Keonho swears he has a new one every time.

All Keonho knew, was that somebody had stolen experimental power cords from a research facility.

Three days ago, they robbed a city data center.

And yesterday, they broke into an Oscorp laboratory.

Tonight, Doc Ock was connecting all of it. Right in the middle of downtown.

The machine behind him hummed with unstable energy, a massive tower of cables, generators, and stolen technology. Keonho for the life of him could not figure out what it was supposed to do. Something world-ending, probably.

“Pretty cool, right?”

“I dunno, looks like an eyesore to me.” Keonho scratches the back of his mask.

“Say what you want, Spider-Man, but I’m the one who uploaded a city-wide neural interface through every phone, computer, and network.”

“What?”

“You should be happy. It’s going to eliminate human error.”

Villains say this all the time. Keonho sees right through them. What Doc Ock really means is the destruction of decision-making, and free will. Keonho’s a hundred percent sure he’s going to call it “evolution”, next.

“It’s evolution, Spider-Man!”

Yep.

“Okay,” Keonho utters to himself. “We're aiming for stopping the evil mind-control machine."

Then, he lept.

The fight started badly, and somehow, got worse.

Doc Ock's metal arms slammed him through a billboard before he even landed a punch.

"You're getting predictable, Spider-Man."

"You're getting old."

One arm caught him midair, another punching him into a traffic light. A third comes at him for good measure, Keonho supposes, and it nearly crushes his ribs.

"See?" Doc Ock said. "Predictable."

"See?" Keonho groaned from the pavement. "Still old."

Halfway through dodging another attack, Keonho landed on a bus shelter and glanced toward the crowd.

Seonghyeon.

He immediately freezes.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Keonho whispers, under his breath.

Seonghyeon was standing behind a police barricade with a few other civilians. He was carrying a laptop bag. Must have been studying, before this all happened.

Either way, he was far too close for Keonho’s liking.

Doc Ock follows Keonho’s gaze.

His blood turns cold when Doc Ock smiles.

Because Otto Octavious was many things.

A genius, a narcissist, a villain.

And above all else, observant.

"Interesting."

"No."

Before Keonho could even flinch, one mechanical arm swung toward the crowd. Suddenly, Keonho’s entire world zeroed into just Seonghyeon, and the arm flying toward him. Something dropped into Keonho’s stomach. His heart, probably.

The arm fired a concentrated energy blast from one of the stolen power cores.

Keonho didn’t even think.

One second he was fifty feet away from Seonghyeon. The next, he was slamming into him, the force knocking the both of them to the ground. Keonho made sure to keep his hand under Seonghyeon’s head so he wouldn’t accidentally concuss him, or something. Seonghyeon’s far too smart to be losing brain cells because of Keonho.

The blast exploded against a nearby building, glass raining from the sky. For a second, all Keonho could hear was ringing. He clutched Seonghyeon even tighter.

“Spider-Man?”

Seonghyeon’s voice. Alive, thankfully. Keonho’s lungs can finally start working again. He released Seonghyeon, pulling back to look at his face, assessing for any damage.

“Hi.” His voice came out breathless.

“You okay?”

“What?”

“You got hit.”

“What?”

“Spider-Man?”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding.”

“Oh.”

Keonho looked down. There was, in fact, a lot of blood. Quite a lot of it. He moves an inch away from Seonghyeon, to spare him from it. The blood was basically part of the job description for him, but not for Seonghyeon.

"Huh."

Seonghyeon's expression somehow became even more alarmed.

"Why are you reacting like that?"

"I dunno."

Keonho grins weakly, before remembering he has a villain to fight.

“Seonghyeon, listen to me. Get back to your dorm.”

“What about you?” There was a panic in Seonghyeon’s voice that made Keonho’s chest ache. Keonho had an inkling that his fear was for Keonho. Not Spider-Man.

“What do you mean—I need to fight him?”

Keonho forces himself to his feet. He immediately regrets it after, because the world tilts.

“Woah.”

A hand caught his arm. Seonghyeon’s. Keonho would recognize it blind.

"Don't."

"I kinda have to."

"You can barely stand."

"That's a future me problem."

"Spider-Man."

Keonho looked at him. And for a second, all he could see was fear in those eyes. Keonho’s seen Seonghyeon look at him in many ways before.

Fond.

Irritated.

Amused.

Never this. Never so blatantly terrified. The realization hit harder than any punch he'd taken all night. Keonho swallowed, then forced a grin.

"I'll be okay. I’ll meet you on the balcony."

It sounded more like a plea than a promise.

Before Seonghyeon could argue, Keonho shot a web and launched himself back into the fight.

The second round was uglier than the first.

Keonho could tell because he hadn’t cracked a joke in the last fifteen minutes. That meant things were heating up.

Also because his vision was blurring, his muscles were screaming, and Doc Ock just hit him through a wall.

Then a car.

Then another wall.

Things were going very sub-optimally, to say the least.

At one point Keonho genuinely considered dying because it sounded easier. Martin would probably find a way to resurrect him to beat his shit, though, so he decided to hold out.

Eventually, somehow, he got lucky.

Or stubborn.

Probably stubborn.

Doc Ock activated the machine.

Which turned out to be a mistake because unstable stolen technology tends to explode when Spider-Man had been sneakily ripping cables out of it the entire time.

The generator overloaded, collapsing the machine. One of Doc Ock’s arms short-circuited.

Then another.

Then all four of them.

For the first time all night, Otto looked genuinely alarmed.

Keonho took advantage of it. Because Doc Ock was now a defenseless old man, Keonho didn’t need to be in tip-top shape to punch him into pavement hard enough that he stopped moving.

When he does, the crowd erupts into cheers.

It sounds more like white noise to Keonho.

Somewhere behind him there are sirens, voices, and relief. All Keonho could think about was getting to the balcony.

Not to home, or Martin.

The balcony.

The realization should've concerned him. Instead, he found himself smiling.

Then immediately coughing blood.

"Okay."

He wiped his mouth.

"Less smiling."

The city blurred beneath him as he swung.

He reconsidered going to the balcony. He was in terrible shape. Everything hurt. His shoulder, ribs, head, chest.

But he’d promised Seonghyeon.

By the time he reached Seonghyeon's building, he wasn't even aiming properly anymore. He hit the railing. Bounced off. Nearly missed the balcony entirely. Man, the universe really couldn’t give him a break.

And then, he landed badly. One foot hit the railing, the other missed entirely.

For one horrifying second, Keonho thought he was about to survive a supervillain only to die falling off Seonghyeon's balcony.

Fortunately, he managed to catch himself.

Unfortunately, he immediately folded over afterwards.

“Jesus Christ.”

The balcony door slid open, and Keonho looked up. Seonghyeon stood frozen in the doorway.

"Oh."

That was all Keonho managed.

"Oh?" Seonghyeon repeated.

Keonho offered him a weak thumbs-up.

"I won."

“You’re covered in blood.”

“That doesn’t relate to me winning.”

Seonghyeon stares at him.

“Spider-Man.”

“Seonghyeon.”

“You’re covered in blood.”

“Okay, yeah, it sounds worse the second time around.”

Seonghyeon was already kneeling down beside him. Up close, Keonho could see the panic. The awful, quiet kind of panic, the one Seonghyeon gets when somebody he cared about was hurt.

Keonho saw it when Juhoon was bedridden with a fever. When Martin was throwing up at a party. When James had hurt his wrist dancing.

Now, he was seeing it directed right at him. Keonho suddenly wished he'd landed literally anywhere else.

"Hey," Seonghyeon said softly.

His hand hovered over Keonho's shoulder. He doesn’t touch him yet.

“Can I?”

Keonho swallows. Seonghyeon was really too kind for his mess.

“Yeah.”

The hand lands carefully, warmth bleeding through Keonho’s suit, cutting through the cool night air. It’s steady, and human, and hurts almost more than the injuries.

"Come inside."

"I'll bleed on your floor."

"I don't care."

"You’ll care when my blood’s radioactive."

"You are so annoying."

Keonho grinned. Then immediately regretted it when his ribs screamed. Seonghyeon noticed, expression tightening around the edges.

“Inside.”

This time, it wasn’t a suggestion. And Keonho always had a difficult time saying no to Seonghyeon.

A few minutes later, he found himself sitting on Seonghyeon's bathroom counter while Seonghyeon tore open a first aid kit.

Under the bright bathroom light, there was no hiding how bad it looked.

The side of Keonho's face was split open near his cheekbone, dried blood streaked down his jaw, and a dark bruise was already blooming across his ribs where his suit had torn. In the center of the bruise, there was a deeper wound. There were scrapes everywhere—his arms, his shoulder, even his neck—and now that the adrenaline was wearing off, everything hurt.

For a second, Seonghyeon just stared. Not for long, Seonghyeon’s always been able to pull himself together quickly, but Keonho caught it anyway.

The slight widening of his eyes. The way his hand paused halfway to grabbing the antiseptic. The tiny hitch in his breathing.

Then Seonghyeon exhaled slowly and forced himself to move.

"Okay," he said, voice steadier than he looked. "This is probably going to hurt."

Keonho blinked.

“Probably?”

“Fine, definitely.”

Despite himself, Keonho laughed, immediately regretting it when pain shot through his ribs.

"Ow. Okay. Never mind."

Seonghyeon carefully dabbed at the cut on his face.

The antiseptic burned.

Keonho hissed through his teeth.

"Sorry. Here, wait." Seonghyeon brough Keonho’s hands up to his free bicep. “Just squeeze if it hurts.”

Keonho snorted. He didn’t let go, though.

For a while, the only sounds were the rustle of bandages and Keonho occasionally swearing under his breath, tightening his grip, whenever Seonghyeon touched a particularly bad spot.

Eventually, Keonho tilted his head.

"How are you so calm?"

Seonghyeon's hand stopped for half a second.

"I'm not."

Keonho frowned.

"You kind of are. I mean, this is pretty calm in my books. Most people would have passed out from the sight of me."

"No," Seonghyeon said quietly. "I'm really not."

Something in his voice made Keonho look up.

Seonghyeon was focused on wrapping gauze around his arm, but his jaw was tight. Too tight.

His hands were steady, yet there was tension in every movement, like he was concentrating very hard on not thinking about something. Or panicking.

"You showed up at my balcony covered in blood," Seonghyeon continued, eyes fixed on the bandage. "I don't think that's a situation anyone stays calm in."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

Keonho rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I’m really sorry."

Seonghyeon let out a short laugh.

"I feel like you've said that three times already."

"Maybe because I keep giving you reasons."

That finally earned a real smile.

“Well if you didn’t come, I’d think you were dead in a ditch somewhere, and that’s worse than this.”

Seonghyeon finished securing the bandage and stepped back to inspect his work.

"You should probably go to a hospital."

Keonho immediately shook his head.

"No."

"That wasn't a question."

"Still no."

Seonghyeon stares at him. Keonho stares back, unblinking. Somebody once told him it makes them uneasy when he stares because of the mask. He wonders if it would work on Seonghyeon too.

Apparently yes, because after a few seconds, Seonghyeon sighed like someone who had already accepted defeat.

“I’m only letting you do this because you saved my shit today.”

For the first time since climbing through the balcony window, the knot in Keonho's chest loosened slightly.

Everything still hurt.

He was still really, really tired.

But somehow, sitting here while Seonghyeon patched him up, it felt a little less awful.

"This is weird."

"What is?"

"Usually my right-hand-man yells at me first."

"Do you want me to yell at you?"

"A little."

Seonghyeon shot him a look.

Keonho smiled sheepishly.

"Maybe later."

The smile disappeared when antiseptic hit that spot on his ribs.

"OW."

"Oh, now you're capable of feeling pain?"

"I have always been capable of feeling pain."

"You got thrown through a building."

"I had adrenaline then."

Seonghyeon rolled his eyes.

Keonho found himself watching him. The furrow between his brows. The raw concentration. The way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was worried.

These were all things Keonho already knew, had learned like the back of his hand. Things he never got tired of noticing.

"You scared me."

The words came out quietly. So quietly Keonho almost missed them.

Seonghyeon didn’t look up, just kept cleaning the cut.

"You really scared me."

Something in Keonho's chest twisted.

"Sorry."

"I know."

"You should see the other guy."

"Spider-Man."

"Sorry."

Silence settled between them. It wasn’t awkward, or uncomfortable. But there was a weight to it.

Seonghyeon finished wrapping one injury before moving to another.

Eventually, his fingers brushed the edge of the mask.

Keonho froze.

The movement was instinctive. A tiny, barely noticeable flinch, but Seonghyeon’s hand paused.

"Can I ask you something?"

Uh oh.

"Depends."

"What's your name?"

Keonho groaned.

"We've been over this."

"I'm serious."

"I am too."

Seonghyeon's thumb traced the edge of the fabric.

"Let me see."

The room suddenly felt too small. Too warm. Too much. The spandex started to feel like fire, burning every surface of Keonho’s skin.

For one impossible second, Keonho wanted to. He wanted to, so badly.

He wanted to take the stupid mask off, wanted for Seonghyeon to know, wanted to stop lying.

Wanted—

No.

Because what if everything changed? What if Seonghyeon looked at him differently afterwards? Worse, what if he’s disappointed?

What if he stopped being just Keonho?

A hand moved toward the edge of the mask.

Keonho caught Seonghyeon's wrist immediately. Not rough, but quick. Desperate.

The two of them froze.

"Oh."

Seonghyeon looked startled, guilty immediately.

"Sorry."

"No."

Keonho let go.

"It's okay."

"It clearly isn't."

Keonho laughed weakly.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'm devastatingly handsome under here."

That earned him the smallest smile.

"I just..." Seonghyeon hesitated.

His voice softened.

"I wanted to know who I'm worried about."

That undoes him. Curiosity and fascination, Keonho could manage, had been taught to handle. Concern, on the other hand…it made him look the other way.

“I’m sorry, Seonghyeon.”

Apologies seem like the only thing he can offer him recently.

“But I think…I think you know me better than most people do.”

The words slipped out before he could stop them. His heart immediately refrains from beating. Seonghyeon's eyebrows pulled together.

"What does that mean?"

ABORT.

ABORT.

ABORT.

"It means I'm very mysterious."

"That is not what it means."

"It definitely is."

"Spider-Man."

"I'm literally named Spider-Man."

Seonghyeon laughs, despite himself. A wave of relief rolls through Keonho. Disaster was narrowly avoided.

For now.

The adrenaline had faded almost completely, leaving Keonho to deal with the ache it left behind.

Keonho blinked slowly.

Once.

Twice.

Then felt fingers run down his arm, gently. His breath caught.

Seonghyeon had moved between his knees somehow. Close enough that Keonho could smell his shampoo. Keonho was the one who recommended that shampoo. It smelled faintly like cinnamon. It was comforting.

"You should sleep."

Keonho hummed.

"Can't."

"Why?"

"Busy."

"Doing what?"

"...being injured."

Seonghyeon snorts.

“...But I actually need to go home.”

Seonghyeon looked down at the bandage he was smoothing over Keonho's shoulder.

"Be more careful."

Keonho’s eyes found Seonghyeon again, and he suddenly understood something terrifying.

If Seonghyeon ever found out who he was—

He wouldn't be scared because Spider-Man got hurt.

He'd be scared because Keonho got hurt.

Keonho doesn’t know if he can put that on him.

“...I’ll try.”

It was a lie. Both of them knew it, yet Seonghyeon smiled anyway as he left.

The lights were still on when Keonho got back.

That should've been his first warning sign.

Martin was sitting on the couch, still awake, phone in hand. Waiting for him.

The moment Keonho climbed through the window, Martin stood. His eyes immediately swept over Keonho, taking in the torn suit, bruises, and dried blood. He also saw the bandages and Hello Kitty band-aid wrapped around Keonho’s finger.

"Jesus Christ."

Keonho laughed weakly.

"Hi."

"What happened?"

“Doc Ock.”

“Tell me what happened.”

Keonho opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Because what was he supposed to say? Retell the same tired story of exhaustion, and off-days, and injuries, and Seonghyeon.

He was just so tired.

It was just one of those weeks where everything was going wrong. And Keonho was at his limit.

His throat closed.

Martin's expression shifted immediately.

Concern replacing irritation.

"Oh."

Keonho hated that, because it meant that Martin understood that something was wrong.

"You okay?"

That question always seems to flip a switch within Keonho. You ask it at the right time, and you’ll have Keonho bawling on the floor.

Unfortunately, Martin’s timing was impeccable.

Keonho’s eyes burned.

Shit.

"Nope."

His voice cracked.

Double shit.

Martin didn't even hesitate.

He stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him. Keonho folded instantly into Martin’s warmth, like somebody had cut the strings holding him upright. His forehead hit Martin's shoulder. His hands find the back of Martin’s shirt, fisting at the material.

He lets out a shaky breath, a few stray tears escaping his eyes. Martin sways, soothingly, rubbing Keonho’s back and holding him tighter.

He doesn’t say anything. Just held him, the way he’s been doing for years.

Eventually, Keonho let out a small laugh.

"This is really bad for my reputation."

Martin snorted.

"You fight supervillains in spandex."

"Fair."

Martin pulls back to look at him, but Keonho buries his face in his shoulder one more time.

“Just two more minutes.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Silence overcame them again, comfortable and safe. Keonho swallowed hard.

"I almost couldn't save him."

Martin froze.

“Seonghyeon.”

Keonho didn’t even question how Martin knew immediately. Of course it was Seonghyeon.

It was always Seonghyeon.

Keonho squeezed his eyes shut.

"I was so scared."

The confession felt ugly and forbidden.

Martin only rested his chin on top of his head.

"I know."

That only made Keonho grip Martin’s sweater tighter, because Martin always knew.

In hindsight, Keonho should have known Seonghyeon was going to get suspicious eventually.

It began the next day, when Keonho’s healing hadn’t worked wonders last night and he was still half-limping to their lunch table.

Upon seeing him, Martin immediately gets to distracting Juhoon, bless his soul.

James, on the other hand, raises his eyebrows.

“You good, champ?”

Keonho doesn’t miss the way Seonghyeon’s sizing him up.

“Oh—yeah. I hit a door.”

Seonghyeon hums, like he believes it too easily.

“That’s funny. Spider-Man was walking the same way yesterday.”

Keonho laughs, too quickly.

“What, do I look like I fight crime in my free time?”

“What we really should be talking about is Seonghyeon and Spider-Man’s extremely strange friendship.” Martin interrupts.

“Hey it’s not—”

Man, Keonho really does not thank Martin enough.

The second warning sign comes from Martin.

After Keonho’s third class, Martin catches him alone.

“He’s starting to compare things.”

Keonho frowns.

“Compare what things?”

Martin shrugs, too casual.

“You. Spider-Man. Injuries. Timing. Words.”

Keonho laughs once, sharply.

“That’s insane. Are you telling him he’s insane?”

“Of course, dude.”

He pauses.

“But I don’t know what to tell you. He’s observant. And getting there.”

It kept on happening.

Keonho would say something, and Seonghyeon would tell him Spider-Man said that exact same thing yesterday.

Then, Keonho would eradicate the phrase from his vocabulary immediately.

He would see an injury on Keonho, and pester about where he got it from.

When Keonho would disappear for hours on end, Martin’s excuses weren’t enough to satisfy him anymore.

In theory, Keonho probably should have stopped visiting Seonghyeon’s balcony as Spider-Man.

But he was a weak, weak man. And you can only ask so much of him before he draws the line.

Seonghyeon brings him water one night.

“You’re here a lot recently.”

“Crime is seasonal.”

Seonghyeon laughs, but his heart isn’t in it. Keonho can tell.

“Do you ever feel like people you don’t really know… still feel familiar?”

Keonho’s hands still around the cup he’s holding.

“Uh. That’s deep.”

“It’s random,” Seonghyeon says. “I just mean… you feel familiar too.”

Keonho forces a laugh. It comes out dry and wrong.

“That’s probably the mask.

Seonghyeon tilts his head.

“Maybe.”

But he doesn’t drop it. He rarely drops things anymore.

Keonho hops off the ledge a little too quickly.

“Anyway—crime. I should go. Duty.”

He swings away at the same speed he would if he were escaping a villain.

The rooftop was quiet.

The kind of quiet that settles over the city late at night, when traffic becomes distant and the wind is allowed to exist again.

Keonho sat on the ledge with his legs dangling over the side.

The city stretched below him in a sea of lights.

Usually, he liked this view.

Tonight, he was tired. He's been tired a lot lately.

Maybe that’s why Martin had practically threatened him into resting, which was why he'd ended up here instead of swinging around the city pretending he wasn’t half out of his mind.

A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey."

Keonho glanced over.

Seonghyeon was climbing onto the roof. Keonho knew he would. He was on the roof of his dorm for a reason.

Immediately, something in Keonho relaxed.

"Hey."

Seonghyeon sat beside him, close enough for their thighs to touch.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Keonho was glad. Seonghyeon’s presence was just as fulfilling as his conversation.

Seonghyeon nudged his shoulder, after several minutes.

"You look exhausted."

Keonho raised a brow that Seonghyeon couldn’t see.

“I’m wearing a mask. I don’t ‘look’ anything.”

“It’s a very expressive mask.”

Keonho knows. He chose it to be that way on purpose.

The wind shifts, and for some reason, Keonho feels nervous. He taps his fingers against the rooftop, restlessly.

"You know."

Seonghyeon’s voice was soft. Thoughtful.

"I think I've figured something out."

Every muscle in Keonho's body went rigid.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Seonghyeon looked out over the city.

Not at him. Keonho wishes he would look at him.

"You disappear whenever Spider-Man shows up."

Keonho's stomach dropped.

"You get injured at the same time he does."

The drop became a freefall.

"You say the same things."

Keonho couldn't breathe.

"You move the same."

Still, Seonghyeon didn't look at him. Like he was giving Keonho room. Like he was letting him decide.

Finally, Seonghyeon turns. His fingers brush the edge of Keonho’s mask. This time, Keonho doesn’t flinch.

Seonghyeon doesn’t move. The city carried on beneath them, cars, people, life. Meanwhile, the world felt completely still.

Then Seonghyeon spoke. Barely above a whisper.

“Keonho.”

Silence.

Absolute, complete silence. Nobody should know that name.

But Seonghyeon does.

Is that really so bad?

Keonho brings his hand up to wrap around Seonghyeon’s which was still resting by the edge of his mask. He guides Seonghyeon’s hand to slip off the mask. There wasn’t a point of it anymore. The secret was gone.

“You knew.”

It came out smaller than he'd intended.

Seonghyeon smiled, fond.

“Yeah.” He runs his fingers through Keonho’s slightly damp hair. “And you were right. You are devastatingly handsome under there.”

Something tugs at the corner of Keonho’s mouth, but it’s weak. He looks away. This felt exactly like every nightmare he'd ever had about being discovered.

Except Seonghyeon wasn’t angry, or leaving, or disappointed.

"You weren't supposed to find out."

“About Spider-Man?”

"About any of it."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I didn’t want you to see any of this.”

More than the injuries, the exhaustion, the mistakes, Keonho knows that the moment he lets Seonghyeon in—fully in, then that’s another thing villains can hold over him. And that scares him.

Seonghyeon shifts closer.

“Keonho?”

"Yeah?"

“I’ve known you forever.”

Keonho swallows.

"You really thought I wasn't going to figure it out?"

For a second, Keonho doesn’t answer.

Because the truth was a little embarrassing.

He'd spent weeks worrying about villains finding out who he was. Months worrying about getting hurt. Years worrying about Seonghyeon seeing too much. Yet somehow the thing that terrified him most was still sitting beside him.

Being known entirely, thoroughly.

"I don't know."

The admission came out quiet.

"That's funny."

"What is?"

"You spend half your life figuring people out."

Keonho glanced at him. Seonghyeon’s hair was blowing into his eyes. It made him look younger.

"You know when Martin's lying."

"He sucks at lying."

"You know when Juhoon's upset before he says anything."

"He gets quieter. Which frankly, should be impossible."

"You know James pretends not to care about things."

"He does."

"And somehow you're shocked I figured out you."

Keonho lets out a breath.

“Those are different."

"How?"

"Because..."

Because I wanted you to.

Because I didn't.

Because I wanted you to know me.

Because I was terrified of it.

The contradictions tangled together, one overlapping the other, enough until Keonho had no idea where to even begin unraveling them. Seonghyeon waited, patient as always.

“I didn’t want you to see me differently.”

Something shifted in Seonghyeon's expression.

“Keonho.”

The way he said his name hurt. Not in a bad way, just Keonho wants to hear his name coming from Seonghyeon’s lips all the time, always.

"I've seen you differently for years."

Keonho froze.

"What?"

Seonghyeon looked down at his hands.

For the first time all night, he seemed nervous. Actually nervous, which was weird because Seonghyeon never got nervous around him.

"You know what the funny thing is?"

Keonho's pulse picked up.

"What?"

"I figured out you were Spider-Man."

A small smile tugged at Seonghyeon's mouth.

"And somehow that wasn't even the biggest thing I've been trying to tell you."

The air left Keonho’s lungs completely. Because suddenly—

He knew where this was going.

And there was no way.

No way.

Keonho’s heart is beating so fast he’s genuinely afraid it might beat straight out of his chest and drop right onto the city street.

Seonghyeon couldn't possibly—

"I've liked you for a really long time."

Everything stopped.

The city, the wind, the traffic, Keonho’s heart.

Seonghyeon laughed timidly, which made everything more real.

"Honestly, at this point it's probably embarrassing."

Keonho just blinked. There was nothing else he could do.

"I mean, you're my best friend, so that part isn't embarrassing."

Seonghyeon rubbed the back of his neck.

"But the whole being-in-love-with-you thing is a little embarrassing."

Keonho rubbed his eyes, just to check if he was dreaming. When he opened them, Seonghyeon was still there. A little blurry, but still there. Real.

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

"No."

Seonghyeon snorted.

"That's a very convincing response."

"No, because—"

Keonho smiled wildly, a little hysterical.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one with the secret identity?"

Seonghyeon smiled, and Keonho felt like he’s looking right through him. He probably is, honestly.

"There it is."

"What?"

"The joke."

Keonho’s eyes burned. Because somehow, this was happening. Despite all odds, and fate throwing every curveball at him possible, he still ended up here.

With Seonghyeon, still looking at him the way he always had.

Like nothing about him was too much. Even the multiple identities, and chaos, and responsibility, never a moment to settle.

Like nothing about him needed fixing. Even the emotional avoidance, and knack for disaster.

Like he was worth loving.

Keonho sniffles once. Seonghyeon’s eyes widened.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes—no—shut up, one second.”

Keonho dries his eyes furiously.

“I’ve had the fattest crush on you for the longest time.”

“Really?” Seonghyeon drawls.

“What do you mean, ‘really’.” Keonho throws in air quotes for good measure.

“I mean, I could kind of tell. Not at the beginning. Not when I started liking you. But actually, I thought Spider-Man liked me first, then when I realized he was you, I connected all the dots.”

Seonghyeon slowly slides his hand over to Keonho’s intertwining their fingers.

“Man, I’m obvious aren’t I?”

“Terribly. It was the showing up at my balcony every night that gave it away.”

“I mean, how could I resist?”

Seonghyeon chuckles, before tilting his head toward Keonho, letting it rest on his shoulder. When his head made contact, Keonho didn’t even breathe.

They sit there for a few minutes, legs kicking in the wind, the weight of Seonghyeon’s head grounding Keonho.

“Hey, Keonho?” Seonghyeon breaks the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah?” Keonho squeaks.

“Why did that sound like a question?” Seonghyeon brings his head up to look at Keonho. Keonho is entirely sure that his face is flaming red.

“I don’t know?”

Seonghyeon then turns his body toward Keonho, reaching his hand out to brush a strand of hair behind Keonho’s hair, caressing it down the side of his face, and finally stopping at his chin, forcing him to look at Seonghyeon.

“If you want this, please tell me.” Seonghyeon’s voice is so honey-smooth, Keonho feels like his insides are liquidating.

“Yes, you can kiss me Seonghyeon.” Keonho whispers. He thinks for a moment before adding, “Please.”

Seonghyeon leans in then, brushing their lips together once, testing. Keonho feels sparks fly the moment their mouths touch.

Seonghyeon presses their lips together again, more confident this time, moving his mouth against Keonho’s.

One of Keonho’s hands flew to Seonghyeon’s hair, the other resting by his collarbone for stabilization.

Seonghyeon’s hand stays on Keonho’s chin, guiding him through the kiss. Seonghyeon’s lips are soft, he smells like cinnamon, and tastes like whatever fruity gum he was chewing.

Keonho immediately decides that he’s addicted.

When Seonghyeon unfortunately pulls back, Keonho’s malfunctioning.

“Woah.”

Is the only thing he can get out, eyes wide, staring at Seonghyeon. Seonghyeon just laughs, rubbing Keonho’s back.

“We should probably get you to bed now. It’s been a long couple of weeks, hasn’t it?”

Keonho nods in agreement. Seonghyeon chews on his lip before asking, “Do you want to stay at mine tonight?”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to like, swing you around the city, or something?” Keonho suggests. “I feel like I’m supposed to do that.”

“Nah, you’re tired. You should sleep.” Seonghyeon shakes his head. “Tomorrow though…that sounds like a good idea.”

Turns out it was one of those days where Keonho forgot a spare change of clothes which actually worked out in his favour, because it meant he could wear Seonghyeon’s.

Seonghyeon had dug up the biggest t-shirt he could find—some beaten-up band tee, and it smells like Seonghyeon, is swimming on Keonho, yet he loves it to death and is going to find a way to steal it. Borrow it. Whatever.

“Yeah, that’s a look.”

Seonghyeon says upon seeing Keonho, who is also wearing a pair of Seonghyon’s dad’s sweatpants that Seonghyeon accidentally brought to campus. Keonho is actively trying to not trip on the ends of the pants, and is considering walking on the ceiling with his hands.

“I look beautiful.”

Seonghyeon laughed, yet unfortunately Keonho was too tired to keep defending himself.

By the time they finished brushing their teeth, he was already swaying on his feet. Seonghyeon noticed immediately.

"Go to bed, Keonho."

"I am literally standing."

"Keonho."

"Fine."

The second Keonho laid down, every muscle in his body seemed to remember how exhausted it was. It felt like he was sinking into the mattress, every one of his limbs welding to the cushion underneath him.

The mattress dipped beside him, and a moment later, warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him close.

Keonho went stiff.

"Okay?" Seonghyeon asked quietly.

"Yeah."

His voice came out embarrassingly small.

The truth was, nobody had held him in a long time. He was never the one that needed holding. Not like this. Not without worrying about injuries or bandages or whether he had somewhere else to be.

Just because they wanted to.

Keonho turned slightly until he could bury his face against Seonghyeon's shoulder.

Immediately, fingers slipped into his hair.

Slow, and gentle, and Keonho feels like he can die happy.

For the first time in weeks, he felt utterly safe. Like he didn’t have to wait for the next emergency. Like he could deal with it when it came.

For the first time in years, he didn't have to wonder if Seonghyeon loved him back.

The last thing Keonho remembers is pressing closer.

The last thing he hears is Seonghyeon's heartbeat.

Then sleep takes him.

Seonghyeon woke up first.

Sunlight spilled through the window in golden stripes.

For a moment, he had to register where he was. Then, he looked down. Keonho was asleep on top of him, one arm hooked around Seonghyeon’s middle, face lost in the crook of his neck. His hair was sticking up in every direction possible.

Seonghyeon softened at the sight.

Spider-Man.

The city’s hero.

The guy who swung between skyscrapers and threw himself in front of danger without thinking twice.

The guy everybody adored, revered, respected.

The guy who carried lives on his shoulders.

Was also this.

The boy who stole fries off his plate, who talked too much during movies, who managed to lose every charger he owned.

Just Keonho.

His Keonho.

Warm and asleep and drooling slightly on Seonghyeon's shirt.

Honestly, that last part was a little less romantic, but Seonghyeon could not care less.

Carefully, Seonghyeon grabbed his phone from the nightstand. He snapped a picture.

Keonho sleeping peacefully against him.

Then, he opened the group chat.

seonghyeon: good morning
seonghyeon: [image attached]

The responses flew in immediately.

james: what the fuck
james: !!!

juhoon: did you kidnap him

james: is he the big b to the f now

Seonghyeon just snorts, and puts his phone down. He’ll let them decipher for a little longer.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzes again.

A private chat from Martin.

martin: finally