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The wind blew steadily outside Taeyang’s apartment window, particles floating through the air in small, scattered waves. The weather was especially cold as it was the middle of February in Seoul.
Taeyang’s mom ran a hand through his hair, rushing to fix the awkward strands. Her shorter frame wavered in front of her son’s face, focused on making sure he looked perfect for graduation today.
“Mom, seriously, it’s going to get all messed up when I step outside anyway,” Taeyang said flatly. “Have you seen how windy it is?”
His mom huffed. “Oh, stop complaining. You’re going to wear your jacket and put the hood over the top. It needs to look nice for the pictures.”
Taeyang sighed. Pictures you probably won’t even be in.
After a few more touch ups, his mom backed away with a smile. “There. Now don’t mess it up too much. I promise I’ll be there in time for the awards, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Good,” she said. She turned around to grab her purse off the counter, sliding it over her shoulder. As she went to the front door to pluck her keys off the hanging key holder on the wall, she turned back to look at her son one more time. “I’ll get going now. Your dad already knows what time to head over, so don’t worry about contacting him. Oh, and the bus fare is in the drawer! Love you, honey!”
She waved, stepping out the apartment, the door shutting with a click behind her.
Taeyang’s posture dropped once he heard her footsteps recede down the hall. The apartment felt heavier without her in it, but that was a feeling he was used to by now.
He exhaled through his nose, walking over to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He had about forty minutes to kill before he had to catch the bus to school for the ceremony.
Taeyang rarely got excited about anything, and today was no exception. The only thing he was looking forward to was the end of graduation. He wasn’t looking forward to wearing his gown, wasn’t looking forward to shaking hands with his teachers on stage, wasn’t even looking forward to receiving the awards he had barely worked for.
He just wanted it all to be over with, so he could come back home and rot in his bed for a whole week, minimal worries before he had to move for university.
It wasn’t like his mom cared what he did anyway.
She wasn’t going to show up at the ceremony despite what she had ‘promised.’
Taeyang had low expectations because he knew how empty his mom’s words were. Sure, he knew she loved him, but it didn’t mean much when she never made time for anything. His dad was even worse.
His parents had divorced a couple years ago, and Taeyang hadn’t seen his dad much at all. He called last night and told Taeyang that he’d come see the ceremony, but Taeyang had his doubts about that, too.
As always, it was going to be just him.
Taeyang gulped down the last of his drink, then rinsed the cup in the sink before placing it on the drying mat to the side. It was early, but maybe he’d start walking to the bus stop now. He’d just take his time.
He quickly dried the water off his hands before walking back to the living room, heading for the coat rack where his mom had so lovingly hung his graduation gown on one of the empty hooks. It was a solid color—dark, navy blue—and equipped with a matching cap. It was a little short on Taeyang since he was tall.
He plucked it off the hook, sliding the fabric off its hanger. Then he walked over to his room, putting the gown flat on his bed. He found a good sized shoulder bag in his closet and brought it over. The gown was folded carefully before being placed inside, along with the other items he needed.
No way Taeyang was actually going to wear it while riding the bus. The elderly were going to ask him all sorts of questions about his future career path, his class rankings, how well he did on the CSAT—things Taeyang couldn’t be bothered to answer.
Taeyang zipped up his shoulder bag, patting the folded gown inside to make sure it wouldn’t wrinkle too badly. He slung the strap over his shoulder, ready to head out and walk slowly to the bus stop.
He took one step forward to grab his jacket from over his chair—
THWAP.
Taeyang jolted. Turning his head toward the sound, he noticed a thick webline slapped above the outside of his bedroom window. His expression didn’t change, but he was internally groaning.
He walked to his window, already bracing himself for who he was about to see. He pulled the curtain fully aside.
Jiung was there, one hand attached to his web, the other dangling by his side. His feet were sticking against the brick. He was wearing his backpack, snugly fit around his shoulders. His glasses were a little crooked, his hair sticking up in a million different directions.
Taeyang opened the window latches quickly, pushing the frame up. “Idiot, what the hell are you doing??”
Jiung was just smiling. “Hey.”
“Don’t ‘hey’ me! Someone’s gonna see you!” Taeyang reached out to grab Jiung’s wrist. He tugged him forward, Jiung easily letting him.
Jiung stepped over the windowsill and into the room, tattered shoes landing with a soft thud on the floorboards. He didn’t land as lightly as usual, knees bending a little too much. Taeyang’s eyes flicked down, noticing the wobble and a slight cut through his pants that sunk into the skin on his ankle.
Did he save someone again? Taeyang couldn’t help but be worried. Jiung had gotten a bit more reckless lately.
Jiung pushed his crooked glasses up with the back of his hand, then brushed at his hair, which didn’t do much to fix it. “I caught you just in time.”
Taeyang crossed his arms, squinting. “For what?”
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“Seriously?”
Jiung was already walking past him though, out his bedroom and into the short hall beyond.
Taeyang stood there for a moment, staring at the open door. Jiung was purposefully leaving information hanging, as per usual, because he knew it would annoy Taeyang enough to ask him about it again.
He sighed. He still wasn’t used to it—this Spider-Man thing.
It had been months since Taeyang found out, but the knowledge still sat strangely in his chest. Jiung was supposed to be the boy who sat behind him in class, who sometimes forgot his lunch, who always raised his hand to answer questions even if he didn’t know the answers.
He was supposed to be the boy Taeyang admired from afar, the boy he maybe wished he was close with, but it was only supposed to be a fantasy.
Jiung wasn’t supposed to be this hero swinging across buildings and saving the city from evil. He wasn’t supposed to be showing up at Taeyang’s apartment whenever he felt like it.
And Taeyang wasn’t supposed to keep letting him in, but the sight of Jiung bruised and disheveled always made him ache.
He listened to the sound of the faucet turning, the water running, the cabinets opening. Jiung was probably rummaging around for bandaids to hide the cut he had shown up with.
Taeyang remembered the first time Jiung had shown up. He had still been in his suit that night when he knocked frantically on the window. Taeyang, tired and confused, didn’t let him in at first because who just let a stranger into their house unprompted?
Then Jiung had lifted his mask over his eyes, so Taeyang could make out who he was. Jiung’s face looked flushed, panicked.
Taeyang thought he had been dreaming or something. He had opened his window out of amusement, maybe curiosity, maybe disbelief.
Jiung had climbed in with a clumsy thud, collapsing onto Taeyang’s floor like he’d been holding himself together for hours. His suit had been torn at the shoulder, blood seeping through the fabric. He’d apologized for showing up unannounced while Taeyang stood there frozen, trying to reconcile the boy from class with the hero bleeding on his bedroom floor.
“I just need a minute—” Jiung said, trying to catch his breath. “Those guys were not letting up.”
Taeyang stared at him, his half-asleep brain still trying to piece together what he was witnessing. “How do you know where I live?”
“Huh? O–Oh, uh… sometimes I see you when I’m swinging around.” Jiung provided. “I know it’s weird for me to suddenly show up like this, but I needed somewhere to hide, and you were the first place I thought of.”
It should’ve been illegal the way butterflies brewed a storm in the pit of Taeyang’s stomach. “Are you supposed to be showing me who you are?”
Jiung winced, like he hadn’t thought that far. “Um… probably not. But I didn’t have a choice. You wouldn’t have let me in otherwise, would you?”
“No, actually, I'd still leave you there while I went back to bed.”
“But you let me in already?”
Taeyang glared.
Despite what he had said, Taeyang had helped him. He didn’t know why—he just had.
Maybe it was the way Jiung had tried to laugh after mentioning his wound, or the way his hand had trembled as he tried to peel back the soiled fabric.
But that night was the beginning of everything.
When he woke up the next morning and watched the news with his mom during breakfast, he knew what he saw the night before was real.
“Spider-Man saved a group of civilians from an enhanced armed robbery,” the reporter said. “Witnesses say he disappeared shortly between the fight, possibly injured, before making a reappearance.”
His mom had kept talking about how dangerous the city was getting, how brave Spider-Man must be, how she hoped he didn’t get himself killed. Taeyang had just nodded, unable to say anything, unable to admit that the hero she was talking about had been sitting on his bedroom floor twelve hours earlier.
After that, Jiung decided that Taeyang’s apartment was the optimal place to pop in and out of. Injured, exhausted, sometimes with food because he wanted to chill.
Taeyang never told him to leave, and he wished he had the first couple of times because the fact that Choi Jiung was becoming a steady piece in his life was enough to make him nauseous.
“Hey, you have your stuff packed, right?” Jiung’s head suddenly popped into the doorway. His hair looked neater now, a little wet, too, like he had tried to reshape it with a comb made of water. It was ridiculously cute.
Taeyang might’ve stared at him for a beat too long, his cheeks heating up when he realized. “Yeah. Why?”
“Cool,” Jiung said before he retreated again.
A beat later, he padded back in, his backpack still on. He grinned at Taeyang. “I want to show you something before we go to graduation.”
“We?” Taeyang’s stomach churned. “Why would we go together?”
Jiung was already walking back toward his open window. “Come on, don’t be a party pooper.” He stared at the frame like he was calculating if it was big enough to fit two people through.
Taeyang stared like Jiung had grown a second head. “Oh, no. No way are you dragging me out the window with you.”
Jiung turned around, gesturing toward the window with both hands like he was presenting something grand. “Look, there’s a balcony right over there. Easy launch point. And the wind conditions are great.”
“You’re crazy.”
Jiung’s grin sharpened into something mischievous. “Watch this.”
He took a step back toward the window.
Taeyang’s eyes widened. “Jiung, don’t you dare—”
Jiung took another step backward.
Then another.
Then he leaned back—
“Jiung!”
He fell.
Straight out the window.
Taeyang’s heart stopped. He lurched forward, slamming his hands against the windowsill as he looked down.
Jiung was dangling, one hand holding his web that stuck to the brick wall. His legs swung lightly in the air, like he was on a playground swing instead of three stories above the ground.
Taeyang nearly passed out. “What is wrong with you?!”
Jiung laughed. “Come with me!”
“No! Get back up here!”
“Do you really want to take the bus? I can get us there faster!”
“Stop being reckless!”
“Taeyang, come on!”
Taeyang spotted Jiung’s webline a few inches below the windowsill. He reached down and grabbed it. It was elastic and tacky, but he tugged at it nonetheless. He tried to pull Jiung up. “Get up here right now!”
Jiung didn’t budge. He just looked at Taeyang with the softest, most annoyingly earnest eyes. “Please?”
Taeyang’s pulse hammered. He let go of the web and backed into his room with a deep exhale. Jiung was insane.
He was right though. Taeyang would rather walk by himself than take the bus and sit next to smelly people he didn't know. But would he rather swing across the city like some dead piece of meat hanging in a freezer?
Maybe if he was paid a billion won.
He squeezed his eyes shut, rethinking his life decisions. Then he walked back out, peering down again. “Fine!”
Before Taeyang could process what he’d agreed to, Jiung flicked his open wrist, and a webline shot upward, sticking to the area right next to his heart.
Taeyang’s soul left his body as he was yanked over the window frame.
He didn’t even know if he was screaming out loud, but internally, he was preparing for his untimely, violent death.
I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die—
But instead of plummeting, he collided with Jiung’s chest, Jiung’s arms snapping around him with surprising strength. Taeyang’s body was pressed against Jiung’s smaller frame, his heart beating so fast he thought it might explode.
This was precisely why he never did anything thrilling and precisely why he was adding Jiung to the top of his newly fabricated hit list.
Jiung didn’t pay any mind to Taeyang’s impending cardiac arrest. He adjusted his grip, one arm firm behind Taeyang’s back while the other guided their swings with practiced ease. The wind rushed past them, cold and sharp, biting at Taeyang’s ears.
Taeyang clung to Jiung like a terrified koala when he felt the speed pick up. “Jiung—JIUNG—slow down!”
“We’re almost there!” Jiung shouted over the racing wind.
“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”
Jiung swung them higher, the arc smooth and terrifying to look at. Taeyang’s stomach flipped—he felt like throwing up.
Jiung tightened his hold, pulling Taeyang even closer against his body. “Hold on!”
Taeyang decided that when he died, he was going to haunt Jiung forever.
Jiung angled them toward a taller building, kicking off the side of an apartment complex to gain height.
Taeyang shrieked. “Why are we going higher?!”
The other boy didn’t answer though, just swinging them again and again until a slightly lower rooftop appeared in their path. They started descending, the wind changing pitch as they zipped through the air.
Taeyang held his breath, wanting to close his eyes, but he just couldn’t. He watched as the rooftop pushed up toward them, a flat stretch of concrete dotted with vents and a faded paint line.
Jiung bent his knees, and he let go of the web to scoop his arm under Taeyang’s legs. The shift in position caused Taeyang to wrap his arms tightly around Jiung’s neck, heart threatening to come out of his throat.
They hit the rooftop in a controlled impact, Jiung’s shoes skidding across the surface until he dug his heels in and stopped. Taeyang didn’t even process the landing until he realized he was still alive, still clutching to Jiung like a lifeline.
Jiung exhaled, a soft laugh puffing out into a cloud in front of him. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Taeyang couldn’t move. He just stayed there, plastered against Jiung like a sticker.
Jiung blinked down at him. “Taeyang?”
Taeyang’s voice was dry. “I hate you.”
He pushed himself off Jiung so fast he nearly stumbled backward. His legs felt like overcooked noodles, wobbling under him as he tried to regain balance. He adjusted his shoulder bag, then planted his feet wide apart, hands on his hips. His breathing came out hard through his nose.
“Never. Again.”
“We’ll have to do it again to get to graduation.”
“I’ll scream before you can get to me.”
Jiung rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry. But you have to admit it was fun. You rarely go outside!”
Taeyang relaxed his posture, his hand reaching up to brush his bangs out of his face. “Going outside isn’t a requirement to live.”
“Well actually, you need vitamin D—”
“Do you want me to push you off this roof?”
Despite Taeyang’s cruel tone, Jiung smiled. “Did you forget I have webs?”
Taeyang huffed. “Why’d you drag me here anyway?”
Jiung strolled past him over to the ledge of the building. He peeked behind, his eyes begging for Taeyang to come over, too.
Taeyang followed him reluctantly, still rubbing the ache out of his arms from clinging onto Jiung for dear life.
Jiung stood at the edge, the wind tugging at his hair. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Taeyang peered down, his stomach dropping at how high up they were. The city stretched beneath them, rooftops layered like uneven steps, sunlight glinting off windows, cars driving by like tiny beetles far below. He noticed the graduation venue in the far distance, small but visible through the plethora of balloons surrounding it.
Jiung took off his backpack and placed it on the ground. He crouched down beside it, shifting his position until he was sitting on the ledge, legs dangling over. He glanced at Taeyang. “I come up here a lot. More often since I got the suit.”
Taeyang didn’t say anything.
“It’s quiet. And I like how you can see everything without being in it,” Jiung’s voice was gentle. “I thought you’d like it.”
Taeyang looked away quickly before more blood could rush to his brain. “You didn’t have to kidnap me to show me a view.”
“Would you have come if I asked?”
“...Maybe,” Taeyang said under his breath.
“What was that?”
Taeyang’s ears warmed despite the cold. “No. I wouldn’t have,” he said louder.
Jiung hummed. A beat passed before he spoke again. “Sit with me.”
Taeyang stared at him like he had just been asked to jump into a shark tank. His heart hadn’t fully recovered from the near-death experience, and sitting on that ledge was sure to be another one.
But Jiung was looking at him with that soft expression, an expression that made Taeyang’s pulse run wild.
He pretended to be annoyed, but he shuffled over, slow and stiff. He didn’t dangle his legs down like Jiung was—instead, he sat criss-cross on the concrete. His pants were going to be dirty after this, but it wouldn’t matter when he put his gown over top anyway.
Jiung watched him settle. “I’ve been wanting to sit like this with you for a while now.”
Taeyang’s head turned toward him. “Why?”
Jiung looked toward the sky, leaning back on his palms. “Today felt perfect. Since… I’m not sure when I’ll see you again.”
Taeyang blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“My parents are sending me abroad. Tomorrow.”
Taeyang’s breath stalled. He felt the words sink straight into his chest. “Tomorrow?”
Jiung nodded, his eyes never leaving the view in front of him. “My parents thought I had been acting out, coming home late and never telling them where I was. They think sending me abroad will reset me or something. I don’t want to go, so I told them about me being Spider-Man a couple weeks ago. It only made it worse.”
“They didn’t believe you.”
Jiung shook his head. “They think I'm in a rebellious phase.”
“So you’re just… going?”
Jiung’s shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I don’t really have a choice. They already bought the ticket and packed half my stuff for me. They said I’ll be living with a distant aunt who I never met, so that’s exciting, I guess…”
Taeyang didn’t know why his throat felt thick. The idea of Jiung leaving made something inside him fold in on itself.
He should’ve been happy. With Jiung gone, he didn’t have to worry about someone showing up outside his window at 2am, didn’t have to worry about the stupid stunts Jiung pulled with his stupid, bright laughter.
Taeyang could go back to the normal life he had before he truly knew who Choi Jiung was. He could live peacefully. Quietly.
He should’ve been ecstatic about this, really.
So why did his chest suddenly feel hollow?
Taeyang forced out a laugh, brittle. “Well. At least your aunt can deal with your chaos now.”
Jiung snorted. “You think they’ll need a Spider-Man in America?”
“They probably have like… five.”
“Great. Then my aunt should send me back within a week.”
Taeyang jabbed him lightly in the arm. “No, you should stay over there. Less work for me.”
Jiung jabbed him back. “What work? You’re literally unemployed.”
“Hey, not for long! I’ll get a job on campus.”
Jiung laughed. “Uh huh, if you can even pass the interview with that mood of yours.”
Taeyang shoved him lightly, a smile growing on his face.
Jiung shoved him back.
It escalated quickly, both of them playfully pushing each other. Taeyang tried to stay criss-crossed, but Jiung kept poking at his side. Taeyang swatted at him like an annoyed cat.
“Stop—” Taeyang said, voice cracking with a laugh he didn’t want to admit was real.
“No,” Jiung said, grinning.
Taeyang tried to push him away again, but Jiung rolled toward him, knocking Taeyang slightly off balance. Taeyang yelped, grabbing at Jiung’s jacket to keep himself upright.
Jiung took that as an invitation. He rolled fully, tackling Taeyang gently onto his back.
Taeyang’s breath punched out of him in a startled gasp. “Jiung—!”
Jiung braced his hands on either side of Taeyang’s shoulders, hovering over him.
Taeyang’s thoughts paused. All sound drained from his ears, and suddenly, the only things he could hear were the wind and the bustle of the city beneath them.
Jiung’s laughter faded. His hair fell forward slightly, framing his face as he looked down at Taeyang.
That hollow feeling in Taeyang’s chest had bloomed into something warm.
But Jiung didn’t seem as flustered as Taeyang felt. He smiled. “Hey, are your parents coming to the ceremony?”
Taeyang blinked up at him. Why in the world did he decide to ask about that now? He swallowed, trying to get his voice to work. “Uh—what?”
“Your parents. Are they coming to graduation? Just wondering if I have to actually look good for any pictures with you.”
Taeyang stared at him, speechless. Jiung’s face was close enough that Taeyang could feel his breath warming the cold air between them. He forced himself to look away, cheeks burning. “Can you—get off me first?”
Jiung blinked, then laughed, rolling off him without hesitation. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
He flopped onto his back beside Taeyang, arms spread out, staring up at the sky.
Taeyang stayed frozen for a moment, trying to remember how breathing worked.
Jiung nudged him with his elbow. “So? Are they coming?”
“They said they would, but I don’t know.”
“Ah. So I do have to look good for pictures.”
Taeyang scoffed. “You never look good.”
“Wow. I’m leaving the country and this is how you treat me?”
Taeyang tried to glare at him, but it appeared softer than he intended. “You started it.”
“Potato, potahto,” Jiung grinned. “Well if your parents don’t show up, then I’ll just cheer ten times louder for you.”
“And embarrass me? No thanks.” Taeyang said, though his heart rate was picking up at imagining how Jiung’s voice might sound in the audience.
Jiung ignored the comment. “Then we’ll take selfies together and a few photos with my family. And then I’d get dragged home to finish packing, but I’ll sneak back out just to visit you one last time.”
He turned his head to look at Taeyang. “So leave your window open tonight, okay?”
Taeyang could feel his stare, but he didn’t dare meet his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. Why don’t you meet your other friends instead?”
“Because I like you better than them. You’re more fun.”
“I’m fun? You need a dictionary because, clearly, you don’t know what that word means.”
“Okay, you’re not fun,” Jiung said. “You’re funny.”
“Did the spider that bit you mess with your brain, too?”
“Haha. See? Funny.”
Taeyang whacked his arm.
Jiung flinched dramatically, rocking onto his other side with an odd sounding grunt.
Taeyang was annoyed that he found the other male cute, even when he was acting like a total moron.
Jiung stayed in his exaggerated pose for a second, clutching his arm like he’d been wounded. Then, slowly, he peeked over his shoulder at Taeyang.
“No,” Taeyang said as he widened the distance between their bodies.
Jiung rolled back toward him anyway.
Taeyang prepared for some sort of impact, but Jiung collided with him softly, settling closer, their shoulders brushing.
For a moment, they let the cold press down on them, their breaths steady, intertwining in puffs of fog above them.
Then Jiung opened his mouth. “I’m worried,” he said. “About leaving the city. I know it was fine before I got bit, but now that I can help it… it feels wrong to stop. Like I’m abandoning something I’m supposed to be taking care of.”
Taeyang turned his head slightly, eyeing him. “You’re not the city’s dad.”
Jiung met his gaze. “What?”
“You don’t have to tuck it in at night, or whatever,” Taeyang said. “It survived before you. It’ll survive while you’re gone.”
Jiung let out a small laugh, but it sounded more like relief than amusement. “I know… still, I like helping people.”
“You’re not the only person in Seoul who can do stuff,” Taeyang’s voice trailed quieter. “The city won’t collapse just because you disappear for a bit. You’ll come back. Right?”
Jiung was still looking at him, eyes warm. “Yeah. I will.”
Taeyang looked away immediately. “Stop staring. It’s weird.”
Jiung smiled, but he listened.
He took a deep breath before he spoke again, voice soft and sounding entirely too close. “I… I think I’ll also miss you. You’ll be the first person I visit when I’m back.”
Taeyang’s heart thumped at Jiung’s words. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but somewhere behind his ribs, fireworks were going off. He wanted, needed, Jiung to stop talking, or else he’d combust on the spot.
Despite his inner turmoil, Taeyang peeked over at the other boy, curious about the expression on his face.
Jiung’s hair was mussed from the wind, the tufts sticking up, but it made him look annoyingly soft in the light of the morning sun. His cheeks were pink from the cold, the edges of his glasses a little foggy. His eyes still appeared warm, fixed on the sky. He looked peaceful.
Did Jiung really enjoy Taeyang’s company? Did Taeyang enjoy his?
Tomorrow slipped into his thoughts as a gust of cold wind blew over them—Jiung would be gone.
Tomorrow, Jiung would be on a plane, off to a place on the other side of the world. Maybe Spider-Man would be needed in America. Maybe Jiung would find someone else to bother, someone else’s apartment to sneak into when he needed a break.
Maybe Jiung’s words were empty, too, and he was only saying them to give Taeyang hope. Maybe he wouldn’t remember Taeyang at all when he came back.
Taeyang’s stomach twisted, and he tore his gaze away. He wished the ceremony would last a while. He wished it would drag on, stretch out, anything to keep Jiung with him a little longer.
Anything to stall tomorrow from coming.
Taeyang swallowed, his saliva chilly as it slid down his throat, but the rest of his body grew warm. “Jiung. You better text me first. I swear if you show up without warning, I’ll personally close my window in your face.”
Jiung laughed. “Sure,” he said, like he didn’t believe Taeyang would do such a thing.
Maybe he was right—he wouldn’t find out until the future though.