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“Spider-Man’s real name is Haku Shota!”
Shota could physically feel his entire world flipping upside down. His suit clung to his skin, tight around his extremities. His mask pressed to his face, his vision littered with technical readouts.
"What the fuck?!"
He was Spider-Man, had been for years. Every free moment, every second he wasn’t ‘Soul from P1harmony’, he was ‘Spider-Man’, crime-fighting superhero and protector of Earth.
This villain was supposed to be just another threat, just another supervillain on a Thursday night. He wasn’t supposed to know Spider-Man’s secret identity, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to reveal it to the world.
Shota felt sick. He could already feel all of the eyes on him, of the people down on the street below turning to stare at him. Whispers wafted up into the air, concern and confusion and even a few fangirl gasps.
Shota wasn’t a nobody. Sure, he wasn’t the most famous person in the world, but his band was doing well. They were picking up traction. He wasn’t a nobody.
All he could do was launch himself into the air, desperate for even a moment of space, a second to process what the hell this meant for his future. Shota took comfort in the air that rushed past him, in the way it parted before him like waves in an ocean, allowing him to glide.
He settled on top of one of the city’s skyscrapers, his own panic slowly starting to overcome him. He wasn’t just losing his identity. No, this was so much more than that.
Shota felt his lungs burn, the ache of every inhale constricting around his chest. He pulled at his mask, dropping down into a ball and just trying to breathe. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the dark strands.
The wind was stronger up here, closer to the sky. The breeze whipped around him, catching on his skin and drawing shivers down his spine. It was cold, the temperature finally turning away from the weight of summer and back into winter’s grasp.
Mixing with the wind, the sound of his own breathing hung around him, loud in his ears. He wrapped his arms around his knees, eyes unfocused as he stared off into the distance. The city below looked beautiful, the afternoon light sparkling off the windows of the skyscrapers.
He felt more than heard Ghost Spider approaching. He was used to the other hero sneaking up on him, of never quite knowing when Ghost Spider was lurking nearby. He seemed to have a knack for knowing when Shota was having a bad day, always knowing just where to find him.
Now, on top of that building, having quite possibly the worst day of his entire life, Shota couldn’t even find it in himself to complain like he usually did, to push back as Ghost Spider lowered himself down onto the roof beside him.
Shota didn’t bother with his mask. The truth was out now. What else was there left to do? In his peripheral vision, Shota could see Ghost Spider shifting awkwardly, his white and pink mask still pulled securely over his face, matching hood pulled down low.
“Did you come here to tease me?” Shota found himself asking, curling in on himself.
Ghost Spider jolted, turning to stare at Shota. It was hard to tell under the mask, but Shota had the feeling Ghost Spider was surprised. “‘Tease you’?” Ghost Spider echoed, his voice modulator rumbling along his vocal cords. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know,” Shota grumbled, but he did know. “I’m an idol. I’m in a band. I’m not the ‘superhero’ type I’m sure you were assuming.”
Ghost Spider let out a huff of air, folding his arms over his chest and resting them against his knees. “You’re a dancer. You’re physically strong. You have good rhythm. I’ve seen you take out hoards of criminals on your own. You’re more skilled than me. Why does it matter if you aren’t someone people would assume is a superhero?”
Shota wrung his hands together. “Maybe, I suppose.” He dropped his head slightly, reaching up to rubbing at his eyes, the material of his suit rough against his skin.
Ghost Spider was quiet for a moment. They let the wind carry on blowing, space to breathe weighing between them as they both tried to figure out what to say next. Ghost Spider bet Shota to it, leaning in ever so slightly and saying lowly, “so your name is Haku Shota, huh?”
Shota shot a shrivelling look in the other hero’s direction. “Don’t tease. Not unless you’re about to unmask as well.” Ghost Spider seemed to shrink at the statement, just enough that Shota felt a small seed of guilt begin to form in his chest. He sat back, staring back at the skyline. “Sorry. Don’t feel pressured on my part. Trust me, I know how hard this is.”
For a moment, Ghost Spider looked like he was about to respond, but he was cut off by the insistent vibrating of a cell phone. The sound made both heroes jump, Shota immediately pulling his device from his pocket. The name on the screen made Shota flinch.
‘Manager’
“No,” he sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose.
“Do you have to take this?” Ghost Spider asked, already moving to get up.
Shota caught his arm, pulling his back down. “Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “I can talk to the manager later. Right now, I can’t find the energy to.”
The line drew a small chuckle out of Ghost Spider, just enough that Shota found his own lips pulling upwards at the edges. Even if Spider-Man and Ghost Spider were two completely different people, only seeing each other out in the city streets while they were fighting crime, Shota still considered them friends.
He wasn’t sure why, but there was something easy about being with Ghost Spider, something that brought a kind of comfort he couldn’t quite put into words. Sometimes he wondered if they knew each other, under their masks. He wondered if they were friends, people who already relied on each other.
There was something about their connection that stood out against the dullness of the world. Shota had lots of friends, both in and outside of his band, but there was something freeing about Ghost Spider. Maybe the masks helped? The connection that they didn’t have to force or pretend. They had to be honest, unable to gauge each other’s true emotions.
It felt real, real in a way Shota had only felt a few times before. Real in the way he used to have with Jongseob.
Even the name itself brought a shadow across Shota’s heart. It had been almost four years since he first realised what that fluttering sensation in his stomach had meant, since he first realised just how head over heels in love he was.
But, of course, just his luck, as time went on, he and Jongseob grew apart. Now, he felt like they barely existed in the same sphere. He had felt the void deep inside his chest, the ache of everything burning under his skin.
The comfort he lost in Jongseob, Shota was lucky to find in Ghost Spider. Late nights sitting together, the ease of never having to worry about judgement. Sometimes Shota wondered if he was falling for Ghost Spider instead, finally getting over his feelings for Jongseob. But no, every new day at practice was the same, hit again by Jongseob’s looks and his smile, never quite directed at him anymore.
Shota wasn’t really sure if there was a word strong enough to describe the gaping hole it had left in his chest, and he didn’t really want to find out.
“Does anyone know you’re Ghost Spider?” Shota found himself asking. “Like, in your regular life?”
Ghost Spider took his time, thinking the question through slowly. “One of my friends knows, but she lives overseas. We don’t see each other much anymore, but she always texts when she sees me on the news.”
A grin pulled at Shota’s lips. “That’s sweet.”
“It is,” Ghost Spider agreed. “She’s lovely. And what about you? Did anyone know before all of this?”
“One person,” Shota said.
Keeho knew because of course Keeho knew. He wasn’t someone Shota ever kept secrets from. He had thought long and hard about whether to tell his best friend, but ultimately the decision had been made for him one awkward night when he snuck back in without checking to make sure his bedroom was actually empty.
Since then, Keeho had been steadfast by Shota’s side. Maybe the initial reveal hadn’t been completely planned, but Shota wouldn’t change it for the world.
“I consider him like a father figure,” Shota explained. “I don’t think I could have gone through life without telling him.”
“Keeho?” Ghost Spider asked, his voice modifier lapping over the word like waves.
Shota winced. “Oh, so you do know my band then. That’s so great to hear.” His voice was thick with sarcasm.
Ghost Spider chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not a bad thing. I like your music. You’re all very talented.”
The comment brought a soft redness to Shota’s cheeks. He tilted his head away, clearing his throat as best he could. He was saved by the sound of vibrations, his phone buzzing quietly in his pocket. Shota pulled it out, blinking at the contact’s name. He answered before Ghost Spider could even react.
“Hey, Keeho, we were just talking about you,” Shota said, shooting a soft look over at Ghost Spider. The other superhero looked tense, unsure what to do. Shota listened to whatever Keeho was saying before he replied. “Me and Ghost Spider. He’s with me right now. Say hi.”
Shota held the phone out, clicking on the speaker icon. Ghost Spider stared awkwardly between the device and Shota for a second before he leant in, saying lowly, “hello.”
“Hey,” Keeho’s voice came crackling through the device, half lost in the wind. “Don’t believe anything this idiot says about me, okay?”
Ghost Spider laughed, the sound just a little uncomfortable. “Okay.”
Keeho cleared his throat. “Shota, what’s your plan now? I’m at the dorms. Taeyang and Jiung just came over asking where you are. I left them with Intak in the living room. The manager called before to say you haven’t been answering your phone. I said I’d talk to you.”
Shota’s chest tightened. “And Jongseob?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end. Shota felt like he was holding his breath. Even Ghost Spider felt tense beside him, his own anxiety clearly rubbing off on the other hero. As much as Shota was worried about his bandmate’s reactions, he couldn’t help but feel the most conscious of Jongseob. He supposed with everything, it was only natural.
“I haven’t heard from Jongseob yet,” Keeho said finally. “Taeyang and Jiung said he went out this morning. No one’s seen him all day, but y’know how he is.”
Of course I know, Shota found himself thinking, he’s never home anymore. None of them knew whatever new friends were occupying Jongseob’s time, but he was barely ever home lately. In particular over the last few years, it had been getting worse. Seeing Jongseob at home was like seeing a miracle.
(Shota tried not to let himself consider the possibility that maybe - maybe - Jongseob had found himself a girlfriend. No, he tried to avoid that thought as best he could.)
“Okay,” Shota said, trying to keep his tone even. His eyes flickered sideways, catching on Ghost Spider’s pink and white mask. The other superhero looked like he was trying not to eavesdrop, staring out over the city as his hands fidgeted awkwardly.
Shota sighed, the exhale loud and harsh. Ghost Spider was his friend, someone who had his back. And now, Ghost Spider even knew his identity. What else was there left to hide? “If he contacts you, can you let me know? I don’t really want to be the one to text him.”
“I mean, sure, but I doubt he will contact me first,” Keeho replied. “Out of all of us, it would probably be Taeyang.”
“I know, but can you?” Shota winced at his own tone, the word dipping into desperation.
Keeho hummed softly. “Yeah, I will. Promise.” His voice lowered. “He’s not going to hate you, y’know that, right?”
“He might,” Shota grumbled. He ran a hand through his hair, letting the dark strands flop around loosely. “You can’t say for certain that he won’t.”
“It would be stupid if he did.” Ghost Spider cut into the conversation, his head snapping around to meet Shota’s. “You’re a hero, Spidey,” he said, the nickname much too easily from his lips. “If your friend doesn’t see that, then he’s not looking.”
Something in Shota’s stomach swooped. He swallowed thickly, nodding rather stiffly. Even with his mask on, Shota could see the sincerity free flowing out from Ghost Spider. And there was something else there too, something Shota couldn’t really place his finger on.
“I agree with Ghost Spider,” Keeho weighed in. “Crushes make you think all weird. This is Jongseob we’re talking about. He’ll probably find it so cool that you’re Spider-Man-”
Shota had never hung up on Keeho before. Well, he had, but not like this. Not mid-sentence, not right as he spoke. Not when Keeho had said just a bit too much to someone who Shota was suddenly sure wasn’t supposed to hear it.
Ghost Spider watched on for a moment, taking his time to process what he had heard before he spoke. “You have feelings for Kim Jongseob?” The robotic modulator caught on the tone, shifting it like putty. Shota felt sick.
Only one thing made sense, only one thing that Shota hadn’t considered. Hell, he really hadn’t considered it at all. But now… Now it made perfect sense and he started to wonder why it had never occurred to him before?
“Jongseob?” he asked softly. “Is that you?”
Ghost Spider’s hands shook as he raised them slowly, lowering his hood and tugging at the fabric of his mask. It came away with little resistance, leaving his bleached hair to the wind’s mercy. Most of it was tied up, pulled back and out of the way, but the loose strands whipped around his face.
His skin was smooth and his eyes were like fire, burning and vivid in a way Shota had never seen before. Jongseob looked different now, clad in the white and black and pink of his Ghost Spider costume, a sight Shota had never imagined he’d see.
“You like me?” Jongseob asked carefully.
Shota pocketed his phone, swallowing thickly as he found the willpower within himself to reply. His brain was rewriting all of his memories, mentally overlaying Jongseob on top of Ghost Spider. Every single moment he had ever shared with Ghost Spider, every late night he silently wondered where Jongseob was…
Jongseob was Ghost Spider.
Shota couldn’t help but laugh, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shook silently. “Oh gods,” he managed in a huff. “This whole time it was you?”
Jongseob sighed. He turned away, staring out across the skyline. Slowly, he inched his way closer, his arm bumping against Shota’s. When he looked back, his gaze was gentle. “I like you too,” he admitted softly. “I have for a while.”
The words made Shota freeze. His head snapped up, his entire expression caught in disbelief. “What?” he echoed, barely processing the words being said to him.
“I like you,” Jongseob repeated. He spoke confidently, but his face was red, the only indication of the nerves buzzing around inside him. “I never really knew how to say it, so I put more effort into seeing you here, in the field. I kind of… Well, I thought you liked Ghost Spider more.”
“You knew?” Shota asked slowly. “That I was Spider-Man. You already knew…?”
Jongseob winced slightly. “I did, yes. I saw your suit in your bag one day at practice. It was about a year and a half ago.”
“You never said anything,” Shota mumbled. He frowned to himself.
Before he could spiral further, Jongseob shifted. He twisted so he was facing Shota, moving one of his hands to brush through the superhero’s hair. His fingers danced along the skin of Shota’s forehead as he moved the strands to the side.
“I didn’t think you liked me,” Jongseob explained, his voice growing soft. “I thought you only liked Ghost Spider.”
Shota almost wanted to laugh at that. But instead, he found himself dipping forward, hesitating inches away from Jongseob’s lips. “Then you were wrong.”
The wind howled as their lips met. The city below was in distress, suspended in panic as they unravelled the news of Spider-Man’s true identity.
But, somehow, for the first time since this whole thing started, Shota didn’t feel the stress anymore. He let himself bask in Jongseob’s glow, let himself become submerged in the comfort encircling them.
Because ultimately, the city could wait. This was their moment.