Chapter Text
You would think with the way Myung Jaehyun’s life has steered so far, he would be a huge fan of superheroes.
And, well, he is, in a Sense. He still has those comics he’d begged his mother to buy back in middle school, when superheroes were all the craze amongst boys his age, when superheroes weren’t real. He’d bragged the whole way to school and then some when his friends all rushed over to his desk to take a look at the entire set of comics he’d brought. And back then, too, when he read the Harry Potter franchise and waited desperately for his own owl letter, he remembers thinking to himself, I wish superheroes were real.
Maybe he has powers too, because twenty years into his brilliant, fulfilling life, he’s managed to materialise them into existence. Contrary to popular belief, that is not a good thing.
Because the truth is, Jaehyun thought superheroes were cool until he realised flying cars for Tuesday morning is not exactly part of the world he wants to wake up in. Sure, he’s been told he can get a little overzealous at times; that he can try too hard, achieve too much, stretch himself thin over the most trivial things like his five part-time jobs that, admittedly, may not have been his greatest idea yet. But what most people don’t know about him is that it’s his life’s dream to, after making his youth the most fulfilling he can possibly, retreat to a deserted area along the coast and relearn how to live, without the warm breath of deadlines and quick-tempered college professors breathing down his neck.
A glass window shatters somewhere out of sight. Jaehyun can hear each individual shard of glass clink onto the asphalt, and he briefly considers it a high time to move out of Seoul and to one of Korea’s many uninhabited islands.
He thinks he could make it work. Donghyun’s taught him enough about camping and survival in the wilderness for him to last a few weeks. Probably.
He’s used to the petty criminals that litter Seoul, and the unfortunate people that have to clean up their mess. Well, person. It feels like Spider-Man’s stealing the jobs of all the local police and firemen in a 10 kilometre radius; he's basically on every news channel, every radio broadcast, and at least 20 different Twitter accounts named some variation of spidey’s daily news! with 30k followers run by multiple teenage girls somewhere in Seoul.
Maybe he's making assumptions. For all he knows, Spider-Man could have more fanboys than fangirls?
But still, that doesn't stop Jaehyun from being curious. This is Spider-Man he's talking about — the swinging superhero on tens of thousands of clickbait reels who almost seems unreal in person, even during the rare instances that Jaehyun gets to see him. Jaehyun looks back slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of something red and blue zipping between buildings and street lamps, and he doesn't even realise it when he stops in his tracks entirely.
Then something loud booms from the distance. Jaehyun can feel the rumbling of the explosion beneath his sole, and decides self-preservation comes first. He gulps nervously, before turning on his heel as quickly as he can to walk the other way.
A crowd has begun to gather around the commotion, much to Jaehyun’s dismay. He’s maybe seven minutes to being late for his student council meeting, give or take, and the vice-pres is going to kill him if he doesn’t make it on time, so he swallows the bit of embarrassment he feels squeezing through the bodies of enthusiastic Spider-Man fans, muttering somewhat sincere sorry’s and excuse me’s before he makes it out of the packed area. Okay, if he runs now, he might be able to make it—
Suddenly, Jaehyun feels a tug at the sides of his baggy pants. A small child, hardly older than seven, is looking up at him with teary eyes, a melting popsicle in his hand.
“Hey, kid,” Jaehyun says, squatting down to get eye level with the boy. “What's up? Where's…” he looks around, but sees no sight of the boy's parents around, “where’s your mom? Or your dad?”
The boy only sniffles, eyes growing wetter. There's snot dribbling out of his nose. Jaehyun’s heart tugs at how pitiful the boy looks. He tries on the most compassionate smile he can muster. “Are you lost?” The boy hesitates, before nodding wordlessly, and Jaehyun sighs gently. So much for being on time. “Why don't you follow me first?” He says, softening his voice. “I'll help you find your parents.”
The boy scrutinises Jaehyun’s hand for a moment, before taking it with the hand that's thankfully not sticky sweet from his melting ice cream. Jaehyun smiles.
“What's your name?” He asks, as they walk out of the bustling street and find a quieter corner to wait for the boy’s parents.
The boy looks up at Jaehyun with round eyes. “I'm Minho,” he says timidly, before locking off what's left of his melted popsicle. “Kim Minho.”
“Hi Minho. I'm Jaehyun,” he says. “Who are you here with?”
Minho stares pointedly at the ground, a shy expression seeping through his reddened eyes and baby fat cheeks. “My mommy,” he replies after a while. Then, softer this time, as though he were almost embarrassed, he says, “We came here to watch Spider-Man.”
“Oh.” Jaehyun clears his throat. “Oh! Are you a— uhm, are you a big fan?”
Jaehyun swears Minho’s face lights up at his words. “I always watch his videos on YouTube. He's so cool,” he says fervently with the kind of fire only a nerd could have. Jaehyun’s a little surprised that the previously quiet boy is suddenly so passionate, but it's quite cute, he supposes. “I want to be like him when I grow up,” Minho grins, a childish and toothy thing.
Spider-Man, huh? Jaehyun turns the name in his head for a brief moment, before returning back to the conversation when Minho starts looking at him weird. “Yeah,” Jaehyun smiles. “I’m sure you’ll be even cooler than him when you’re older.”
“Minho-ya!” Jaehyun turns his head to the direction of the voice. A young woman, perhaps in her mid-thirties, is running desperately towards them, and Minho visibly brightens upon seeing her. “Eomma!” He shouts, immediately letting go of Jaehyun’s hand without much thought and running straight at her.
“You naughty boy,” the woman says, catching him in her outstretched arms and ruffling his hair. “I told you not to let go of my hand. Who told you to run off and find Spider-Man yourself?” She finally turns to Jaehyun, who has been standing awkwardly at the side the entire time. “Did you take care of Minho for me?” The woman says, reaching out to clasp Jaehyun’s hand in hers. “Thank you so much. I’m so sorry for the trouble, really.”
Jaehyun laughs. “It’s no problem. Minho and I had a nice conversation. Isn’t that right, Minho?”
“Yeah! Hyung said he’s a fan of Spider-Man too!”
Jaehyun did not say that at all. But he schools his face into an agreeable expression as the woman grins. “I’m glad Minho found you. He’s always running off somewhere, but it’s even worse when it comes to Spider-Man,” she says, finally letting go of Jaehyun’s hands; in good time, because his palms were starting to sweat. “This boy is obsessed,” she says, pinching Minho’s cheek affectionately, who whines in embarrassment. She looks back up at Jaehyun gratefully. “Do you think I could get you a cup of coffee? On me,” she says, expression warm.
Jaehyun huffs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for asking, but—” As if Park Sungho has some kind of metal detector for Jaehyun’s lack of punctuality, Jaehyun’s phone immediately starts vibrating inside his left pocket. Once, twice. Oh god, it’s not stopping. Park Sungho is literally going to strangle him.
Jaehyun can literally see his life flashing before his eyes. Cue montage: slide 1, him walking into the meeting room; slide 2, Sungho throwing his chair at him; slide 3, Sungho nagging at him about the importance of accountability and punctuality until they’re old and grey at the ripe age of 80.
Jaehyun clears his throat. “Sorry, but I'm in a rush right now,” he says hurriedly. “But thank you.”
“That's fine, then,” the woman says, taking Minho’s hand in hers tightly. “Come on, let's go, Minho-yah. Say bye to hyung.” She nudges at the little boy, who grins widely.
“Bye hyung!” Minho squeaks, and Jaehyun can't help but laugh as he waves back.
Then, suddenly, Minho’s face drops, his expression terrified. He tugs rapidly at his mother’s arm, pointing behind Jaehyun. “Eomma, look at that—”
Jaehyun turns his head around just in time to see a large truck, hurtling towards them at full speed. Hurtling towards him.
Well, he thinks, frozen in place. That’s bad
Someone’s screaming in the distance. The wheels of the truck are screeching from somewhere that sounds very far, but that’s strange, because it’s literally about to crash into them right now, and Jaehyun still has an overdue essay for his extra credit that he’ll never get to submit now because he closes his eyes and braces for—
“Damn it!”
Jaehyun is suddenly off the ground.
He lets out a shriek before realising that he’s been lifted off the ground, and not that his backpack grew wings without warning, because when he opens his eyes his legs are dangling over Seoul traffic and something is pulling him along by his bag.
Jaehyun gets thrown into the air again with much force, and he has to shut his eyes before he accidentally projectile vomits all over skyscraper windows. He lands in someone’s arms, firm and unwavering wrapped around his abdomen, making an embarrassing guh! sound that he feels in his gut.
There’s wind rushing past them at what must be a million miles per minute, and the humiliation of being princess carried like it’s nothing forces Jaehyun’s eyes open. He’s greeted by a masked face, fabric stitched together with bug eye lenses that seem to move minutely according to the guy’s expressions. Right now, they’re sort of contracting together so that it looks like he’s frowning.
It’s almost cute, but then the man does a sudden drop and Jaehyun can feel the yell being physically pulled out of him, along with a string of curses that sound less like swearing and more like one continuous line of whatthefuckwhatthefuckletmedownletmedown—
“Sorry!” The guy carrying him replies, a little frantic and out of breath, and honestly, yeah, understandable, because at the moment the supervillain chasing them is shooting lasers and plasma beams and whatever the fuck villains like to do. When another bullet zooms past them, barely missing, Jaehyun unintentionally curls his body inwards and pulls himself closer to the man’s chest. “Just—” the man cuts himself off as he swerves away from another poorly timed shot, and approximately 50 years are taken off Jaehyun’s lifespan. “Just hang on!”
Oh, yes, Jaehyun’s not planning to let go anytime soon, really. They’re high up; he can see the people on the streets reduced to dust mites, and the cars, and— okay, stop looking down, you’re going to puke and ruin this guy’s clothes.
“Yes,” he squeaks out, “hanging on, still hanging on—”
All the air and blood in his body rushes out of him in one quick motion as they’re plummeting down to the earth again, and Jaehyun can’t even find it in himself to scream anymore, just watches as the ground grows closer and closer, and wow, they’re dying again, but for real this time, he still has that movie he promised Sanghyuk to and now his beloved roommate is going to have to live without him, find a new roommate forever—
Then they’re on the ground, no longer above it. The man lands gracefully first, feet lightly tapping the ground, as though he weighed nothing. Then he sets Jaehyun down gently, like he might break if he’s too rash. Which is probably true, because Jaehyun can’t feel his feet.
He wants to kiss the floor. He’s never appreciated cement so much he could sink to his knees and never get back up. That’s probably weird, so instead he turns to face the man, who’s getting ready to set off again, knees bent and position stiff. His vision swims a little.
“Um.” Jaehyun wobbles, before standing straight. He chokes out, “T-thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” the man throws behind him coolly, and there he goes, whipping away into the wind with another well-timed jump, a streak of red and blue against the backdrop of glass windows on skyscrapers.
Jaehyun— he just kind of stands there for a while.
What in the flying fuck just—
“Eomma!” A little kid’s voice rings out to him amidst the chaos and commotion. Minho, Jaehyun remembers dazedly, and he registers, barely, that the truck is bent and crumpled where he had been standing, sparked on fire. That could have been him. “Eomma, wasn’t that—”
Ah. Jaehyun knows who that is. Of course he knows who that is.
Jaehyun spins on his foot back towards the direction of the college before he can hear the word out of the kid’s mouth. His footing is still uneven, head reeling.
And his heart is racing, still racing, his breaths coming short and shaky, all the noise and chatter around him dissolving into dust. The phantom of a warm hand wrapped around him still lingers, firm and steady, burning into his cheeks.
“Cut it off,” Jaehyun mumbles under his breath to no one in particular, thumping a fist against his chest as he takes long, angry strides, as though that would slow the rabbitting beat of his heart.
Like he said: so much for superheroes. Or, well, just the one.
***
“Wow. You look like shit.”
Jaehyun scoffs, then grumbles, “What happened to hello, how are you?”
They’re outside the meeting room; Sungho had been waiting for him, one leg propped up against the wall, head down, trying to act all nonchalant while looking at his phone. Honestly, Jaehyun’s just touched that Sungho had waited; no matter how detached he could seem at times, he had a way of making Jaehyun feel cared for.
“I’ll consider that for when you finally get to a meeting on time,” Sungho quips back at him, nonplussed. “I told the rest that we’d reschedule the meeting online, so you have 30 seconds to explain to me what on earth kept you up.” There are two mechanical beeps from his stopwatch, before he says, a sharp glint in his eye, “If I’m not satisfied, you’re dead, Myung Jaehyun.”
Who needs supervillains with laser guns and flying trucks to kill you when you have an irritated Park Sungho? Jaehyun sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “Listen, it’s just—”
“Twenty-seven.”
Jaehyun groans. He can’t count how many times he’s done that this morning. “I almost got hit by a truck, like, running directly at me. Then it burst into flames. And then—”
He clears his throat. “And then Spider-Man saved me.”
“Spider-Man?” Sungho’s eyes light up. “The Spider-Man? You had a real-life interaction with him? That’s crazy, Myung Jaehyun, even for you.” He whips out his phone in record speed, already pulling up his notes app to jot down stuff, presumably for his side hustle as an intern at the Korea Times. He blinks at Jaehyun expectantly.
Honestly, Jaehyun doesn’t know much about Spider-Man. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have some strange, inexplicable aversion to the superhero. Of course, he's seen the footage: shots of Spider-Man swinging down the bustling streets of Seoul, magazine headlines from when he'd first appeared a couple months ago, newspaper snippets of him fighting crime and swiping cats out of trees.
But there’s where his knowledge — and curiosity — ends. Really, Jaehyun’s not sure why he’s so adverse to talking about Spider-Man, or even thinking about him. Something about the guy just really grinds on Jaehyun’s gears.
But he’s not about to start that conversion now, and with Park Sungho of all people. So he just says, “You’re not getting anything out of me, dude. I…I wasn’t expecting it either.”
Sungho rolls his eyes. “Lame. Could’ve been my big break amongst the interns.” He places a hand over his heart melodramatically. “You’re stopping your good friend from chasing his dreams, I hope you know that.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Sungho gives Jaehyun a once-over, before he jabs at Jaehyun’s shoulder lightly. “Should’ve just let the truck take you out.” Jaehyun snorts, a half-laugh. He doesn't mean it.
Sungho’s already picking up his bags from the floor, checking his watch absentmindedly. “I’m going,” Sungho says. “Don’t be late for the next meeting. I swear I’ll really hit you for real.”
“Wait!” Jaehyun shoots out. He’s been meaning to ask Sungho this without all this Spider-Man business going around, but, well, hasn’t had the chance. “Have you, uh, heard from Sanghyuk lately?”
Sungho squints, apprehensive. “You’re his roommate. Why are you asking me?”
“Just,” Jaehyun shrugs, “he’s been busy lately. Just thought maybe you would know.”
Sungho purses his lips. “I don’t. But now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve seen him in class a lot either.” He frowns. “He’s been late a couple times too, for lectures. It’s weird, actually. He’s never late.”
Jaehyun sighs. Sungho looks him up and down, only slightly judgemental. “Maybe you should just ask him yourself. You live together, you know.”
“Yeah.” Jaehyun squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing them dry. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
Sungho then turns away, telling Jaehyun to check your phone, how many times must I say it, to which Jaehyun can only give an awkward laugh.
***
Jaehyun has a routine, which may be surprisingly to some.
It’s not really a routine he follows religiously, because he’s just not that kind of person who plans every day to the minute and sticks to all his schedules on the dot. That title belongs to freaks like Park Sungho, who seem to believe productivity is a mindset and wake up every day with the intention of maximising their 24 hours.
But he does have a routine, one that involves waking up when Sanghyuk calls him, going to class with Sanghyuk, having dinner with Sanghyuk and the occasional activity by himself, which usually just involves a shift at the convenience store or a day spent at home when Sanghyuk doesn’t call him up on time.
Now, this routine doesn’t really work when Sanghyuk isn’t here half the time.
Jaehyun sighs, threading a hand through his hair and kicking off his shoes. He pads over to the bedroom they share together, sweeping his eyes over the room like he always does as he clicks the light on. They have separate corners of the room that are comically different; Jaehyun’s is an absolute mess, while Sanghyuk’s is much neater. It felt lived-in, familiar, like home, the outline of the room long already seared into Jaehyun’s memory. And yet something is wrong.
Jaehyun’s not an idiot, despite what some of his friends might claim. He knows that Sanghyuk’s been acting strange lately: showing up late, leaving early, forgetting plans, missing hangouts. And for the past few months, he’s just been more…secretive. Distracted, mind all over the place. It’s not like him at all, which is what Jaehyun finds most jarring.
At first, Jaehyun could brush it off easily. People get busy, and between his dance classes and that one ridiculous professor who assigns mountains of work just to watch his students suffer, Sanghyuk’s probably just occupied. He can’t blame Sanghyuk for not having enough time to give him.
Then came the worrying. Maybe, says a quiet voice at the back of Jaehyun’s head, maybe something’s wrong. Like a family problem, or that Sanghyuk was stressed, a ton of other reasons that Jaehyun could come up with as to why Sanghyuk seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. But Sanghyuk would tell him, if that was the case. Probably.
Jaehyun’s wondered this at least a thousand times and hasn’t gotten to a proper conclusion. And he’s been too much of a coward to actually confront Sanghyuk about it. So yeah, maybe this is self-inflicted torture, sue him.
Jaehyun wanders over to the living room and turns on the TV. He never had the habit of watching the news, but ever since Sanghyuk began acting weird, he just had to get used to sitting on the couch too big for one person.
Now it’s just comforting to know the world still keeps spinning even as Jaehyun stays cooped up in his little apartment, a thousand other lives happening outside his window, with the murmur of the television to accompany him.
“ —Just coming in, an armed robbery happening down Sixth Avenue,” the newscaster announces as the TV sparks to life. The glow of the screen washes the room in a sort of artificial light. “It is not yet known how many perpetrators there are, and the police are already on their way. Oh, it seems— ” A pause. “It seems Spider-Man has just arrived on scene.”
Spider-Man. It seems everywhere Jaehyun goes that name follows. He sniffs.
The city is loud, even at night, the buzz of traffic and construction bleeding into the room from a small crack in the window. For a moment, confined with the solitude of the room and his own thoughts, Jaehyun almost finds it in himself to feel bad for the guy. Having to save the world at 11 PM, having an entire city lay its weight on one person’s shoulders, having to stand strong despite the stakes of it all, it just all sounds…terrible.
Whatever. It’s an issue that fades in importance when Jaehyun remembers how long Sanghyuk is taking to get home. Jaehyun sighs and flips the channel. He’s five minutes into some shitty soap opera when his urge to reach Sanghyuk grows too big, and he relents.
Hey, you reaching soon?
There’s a movie I wanna watch with you
Call me when you can
It wasn’t true; there was no movie Jaehyun wanted to watch, and really Jaehyun wanted to sleep now more than anything. But the messages stay delivered, so it doesn’t matter anyway.
He knows Sanghyuk won’t respond. He’s not sure why he’s trying.
Sure, people can be busy. But this…this is getting difficult to understand, and Jaehyun prides himself in being understanding. If not for everyone, at least for Sanghyuk. He grits his teeth, and flips the channel to a soap opera.
Jaehyun’s halfway through it, falling asleep to the monotonous sound of bad acting when the door suddenly creaks. His heart jolts a little at the sound of a key in the lock, and he jerks his head around immediately.
“Hi,” a voice calls softly. Even from the shadow of the doorway Jaehyun can still recognise Sanghyuk’s voice.
Jaehyun wants to kiss him. Instead, he looks at the clock on the wall. 1:58 AM.
“Not asleep yet?” Sanghyuk whispers again when Jaehyun doesn’t reply. The way his voice lingers a little in the space between them, as though Sanghyuk thinks speaking softly is going to lessen the blow of his words, makes Jaehyun want to cry.
Jaehyun bites the inside of his cheek. “You’re late,” he says flatly, keeping his tone level. He’s not sure it’s working.
A quiet laugh. “Since when were you my mom?” It’s meant to tease, but only leaves a sour taste in Jaehyun’s mouth.
The brunette boy steps into the room, shoes off, and is finally illuminated. The warm light of the living room reflects off of Sanghyuk’s hair, specks of red and gold glinting.
Briefly, Jaehyun recalls the time Sanghyuk had gotten it dyed, both of them in the bathroom in the ass-crack of dawn, when Sanghyuk, a box of cheap colouring in hand, had impulsively told Jaehyun he wanted to dye his hair a few months ago. Jaehyun had thought it uncharacteristic of the other boy, but could he ever refuse Sanghyuk? He would jump off a cliff if Sanghyuk ever asked him to.
So he’d helped his best friend massage the bleach into his scalp, and even as Sanghyuk had hissed in pain, Jaehyun couldn’t do anything but assure him it would be over soon, that he would look good, that he would give him a kiss after as a reward for his bravery. That had made Sanghyuk laugh. Jaehyun can still remember the sound of it, clear as a wind chime, just as he can remember the exact colour of the auburn dye, fresh and brilliant on Sanghyuk’s hair. He’d pocketed it for keeping, forever, that night. He wishes he could hear it now.
“Where have you been?” Jaehyun asks instead, the words heavy on his tongue. He didn’t mean it to, but it sounds like an accusation all the same.
Sanghyuk sets down his bag gently by the couch, and for a moment Jaehyun thinks he’ll ignore him entirely.
Then Sanghyuk shrugs, still not facing him. “Nowhere. Just…out.”
“Since when have you— ” Jaehyun starts, his voice cracking, “ —have you started lying?”
A pause, then a sigh. “I’m going to wash up, Jaehyun-ah. Don't wait for me.”
And Sanghyuk says it softly, so softly that he almost sounded tired, terribly so, and Jaehyun’s heart aches. It drains any energy Jaehyun had initially to argue with Sanghyuk, and as the latter retreats quietly into the bedroom, Jaehyun lets him go.
***
Jaehyun brushes it off.
He has to. And perhaps it’s easier that way. The next morning, Sanghyuk is back to his normal, bright self, and Jaehyun can't even help the immense relief flooding his chest at the hint of normalcy. He brews coffee for the two of them; Sanghyuk has his donuts from the corner store; Jaehyun tries to help Sanghyuk with clearing up the dishes, but he almost breaks a cup by nearly dropping it on the floor, which Sanghyuk catches with almost terrifying reflexes. Maybe it's the perks of being a dancer. Jaehyun apologises profusely, worried he might set off something unspoken between them; Sanghyuk laughs anyway. It satisfies a craving in Jaehyun he didn't realise he had.
Tonight, the whole group is be coming together for their monthly movie night at Dongmin’s place. Jaehyun’s looking forward to it, and anyway, it’s a guaranteed chance to be with Sanghyuk, though the guys will be there too.
But things have been weird lately, and all he wants to do is for them to return to normal. Movie night sure feels normal, so he’ll take what he can get.
Jaehyun hums to himself happily as he contemplates this in a lecture. Beside him, Dongmin gives him a weird look, but Jaehyun ignores him. That boy’s always a little pissy in morning classes anyway, and things couldn’t be better.
Everything will be alright.
***
Everything is decidedly not alright, when ten minutes past the meeting time at Dongmin’s apartment, Sanghyuk is late. Again. Jaehyun’s been watching the second hand of Dongmin’s wall clock obsessively for the majority of those ten minutes, until Woonhak told him to cut it off, because it was getting creepy. To that, he responded with a glare (though it softened once he saw Woonhak’s face, he can’t help it, that’s his eighteen-year-old baby), and continued staring.
He barely registers how his foot is tapping the floor mindlessly as Donghyun and Woonhak are engaged in conversation by the kitchen, probably still deciding whose snack they’re going to share today; Woonhak brought popcorn, while Donghyun brought gummies. Jaehyun, from his place on the sofa, can’t, for the life of him, understand why they just can’t have both.
As casually as he can, which is to say not at all, he shouts to the rest of the group. “Hey, guys, have any of you heard from Sanghyuk yet?”
Donghyun emerges from the kitchen, carding a hand through his brown hair. “Uhm,” he says, “I think he’ll be here soon. I left a few voicemails just in case.”
“Dude, let’s just start first,” Dongmin complains, dropping himself down on the couch beside Jaehyun. “He’s already late anyway.”
Several thoughts run through his mind. First: that spot’s reserved for Sanghyuk. Second: we can’t start without Sanghyuk. Third: am I obsessed with Sanghyuk? Anyway, he still has enough self-awareness in his pathetic body to know how absolutely ridiculous he would sound saying any of that out loud, so he keeps silent as the others crowd around on the floor. Fortunately, the other side of Jaehyun is left empty, almost as if the boys are making a conscious effort to make it so; he doesn’t want to think about the implications of that.
Dongmin flips through the list of movies on his television, cursor lingering on a bunch of ‘80s horror flicks, and Jaehyun has to work to suppress his protests.
“We decided to just eat both,” Woonhak says from behind the couch, passing the snacks down. As the kids begin bickering over what movie to watch, Jaehyun can’t help the sinking feeling in his chest that something is awfully wrong. It’s closer to twenty minutes now. Surely, Sanghyuk wouldn’t miss this, right? Jaehyun knows how much Sanghyuk treasures time with the guys. What if something happened to him on the way?
He wouldn’t have forgotten, would he?
Suddenly Donghyun taps Jaehyun’s knee lightly, looking up from his seat on the floor. “If you wanna check on him, you can,” he says reassuringly. “We’re still busy picking the film anyway. At least,” he gives the rest a look, “those two are.” It’s Sungho and Dongmin, who are having their weekly stand-off as to which movie to show for the night.
Jaehyun chuckles, though it does nothing to hide his disappointment. “Thanks, Donghyun-ah.”
“Hey,” Donghyun says again as he gets up to leave. “He wouldn’t forget, you know. Sanghyuk-hyung’s not that kind of person, and you know that. We all do.”
When Jaehyun just stares at him blankly, Donghyun continues, a reassuring smile softening his face. “Just have a little faith.”
That’s all I've been doing these days, is what Jaehyun thinks, but not what he says out loud. He just gives what he hopes is a convincing nod and slinks away out of the apartment, into the darkened corridor.
He fishes his phone out of his pocket and bites his lip as he scrolls through his contacts. His eyes land on Sanghyuk’s immediately, almost like a reflex. Jaehyun wants to hate himself for it, but finds he can't.
The first call is, unsurprisingly, not a success. Jaehyun lets it ring for thirty seconds before pressing his lips together and cutting the connection. He hesitates before clicking the dial a second time. Only now, he doesn’t flinch when Sanghyuk’s not picking up.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why won’t Jaehyun get it? Clearly, something’s up with his friend. His best friend, and he can’t figure out for the life of him what it is, so what does that make him? A pathetic excuse of a person whose best friend can’t even trust to tell about his problems.
Jaehyun stares out blankly at the view of the city from the corridor. Under the blanket of the night, the entire city is cascaded in a brilliant kind of darkness, citylight twinkling like real stars. The area is enveloped by its typical chaos, loud noises echoing upwards to the apartments from the streets and briefly Jaehyun imagines Spider-Man is probably swinging across rooftops, saving people like he’s meant to do.
Very quickly though, the thought is overtaken by another image. Jaehyun almost winces at how fast the thought comes to mind; somewhere out there, Sanghyuk is also walking down a street, or hanging out with other friends, or drinking by a club, talking to strangers and bringing them home. Strangers who aren’t him.
Because the truth is, Jaehyun doesn’t care about the terrors that haunt their city below. He just cares about Sanghyuk. There hasn’t been a moment since they’ve known each other when it wasn’t that way.
He knows what this feeling is, eating away at the dampest parts of his heart. He’s known for a long time, he thinks, an ugly, clawing thing he feels so deeply. It’s why he’s extra upset about Sanghyuk not being here, why his reactions are doubled when it comes to Sanghyuk. And can you blame him? Sanghyuk’s beautiful, and warm, and so capable of being loved by others, and most of all he lets Jaehyun do whatever he wants with him, flaws and all. He lets Jaehyun hold his hand and play with his hair and kiss his forehead when there’s no real reason to, all because Jaehyun asked. Sanghyuk lets Jaehyun be himself, all of himself, all the ugly and raw parts that other people find difficult to handle, hard to even look at.
Rather, he looks at Jaehyun like he’s the whole world. Sanghyuk has a way with Jaehyun that makes him feel right, and it convinced him, once upon a time, that Sanghyuk could really feel the same way too. Even though, by now, Jaehyun’s realised that he and Sanghyuk are nothing alike.
He doesn’t think he’s ever going to tell Sanghyuk about this feeling, not really. Because once he says it out loud, it truly becomes real. And there will be nothing Jaehyun can hide behind anymore, not his casual touches, not his bold-faced lies. Certainly not Sanghyuk’s kindness either.
Maybe the only reason why Jaehyun’s so angry about this whole situation is that, deep down, he’s always known this would happen some day. That Sanghyuk will always, eventually, see Jaehyun as who he truly is, someone who doesn’t deserve to be around a person as good as himself. Maybe Jaehyun’s always known Sanghyuk will sooner or later get bored of him, excuses and lies bubbling up between the two of them, because Jaehyun has never been enough to make him stay.
Below the apartment, the noise from the streets grow louder, crashing and banging and the squeals of a car alarm cutting through the night. Jaehyun frowns, but a moment passes and curiosity gets the better of him. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and looks down from the railings where the source of the crashing seems to be coming from.
Then he sees a swinging figure lit by streetlamps. Somehow, he’s not surprised.
Spider-Man’s red and blue suit is only partially lit by the dim streetlamps. He’s caught in another fight, a few streets down, maybe 4th, maybe 5th. Jaehyun can’t really see what’s happening from this far away, but his eyes are glued onto the fluid figure of the hero anyway. He squints.
The man moves in a way that’s oddly mesmerising. Even from afar, Jaehyun can see how there’s rhythm in every step, every leap, a sort of musicality that accompanies his feet as they make contact again and again with the ground, firm and steady. It almost looks like a dance, the way he moves.
It reminds Jaehyun of a blurry form of Sanghyuk in front of a studio mirror, an image from a long time ago. He moved with so much control and certainty, the first time Jaehyun had seen the other boy dance in their freshman year, that Jaehyun couldn’t help but linger outside his studio, a little ways from the university. His gaze was fixed on Sanghyuk then, too.
Jaehyun had told him after, palms sweating, a little breathless, outside the studio. You’re beautiful, he’d said. Sanghyuk had looked at him doubtfully, like he didn’t fully believe it. But Jaehyun was telling the truth. Jaehyun still is.
“Hyung!” Woonhak peeks his head out the doorway, cheesy grin on his face. Jaehyun turns his head around to where his face is backlit by the bright apartment. “Hurry up, the movie’s gonna play!”
Jaehyun gives the younger boy an endeared smile, one that doesn’t feel so forced. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
When Jaehyun looks back down, he doesn’t see Spider-Man anymore.
Chewing his lip, Jaehyun pulls out his phone and stares at it with a faint determination. Just one last time. He searches for Sanghyuk’s contact without much effort and wills his fingers not to shake when he brings the phone to his ear.
The all-too-familiar ringtone drones through the city noise, birdsong and car horns intermingling. Jaehyun counts the number of dials silently. One, two, three.
He grits his teeth at seven and puts his phone down for good. Jaehyun shakes his head, like it’ll knock some sense into himself. No more of this, he thinks to himself. Just get back to the rest of the guys, and move on. He can have fun without Sanghyuk, can’t he? He should.
There’s a vibration in Jaehyun’s hand and he jumps up in surprise. He answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” Jaehyun’s voice is shaky, like he’s not sure if it really will be Sanghyuk on the other side of the phone.
The rustling of wind, the crunch of quick footsteps, someone yelling in the distance. “Hey,” Sanghyuk huffs into the mic, voice airy and light. He’s slightly breathless.
No one will ever know the way Jaehyun melted a little at the sound of Sanghyuk’s voice, warm and familiar and too easy to fall back into, despite everything. No one but Jaehyun himself. He bites into his lip, forcing the words not to spill out of his mouth in a desperate wave, and squeezes his eyes shut before reopening them. He can do this.
“Where are you? Movie night started 20 minutes ago,” he mutters into the phone. From his other ear, he can hear the opening sequence of Titanic playing from inside the apartment; it seems Dongmin won the argument.
The speaker stutters to life in the decibel of Sanghyuk’s voice. “Sorry, sorry, I—” A sigh. “I know. I was…” The incomplete sentence lingers in the air between them, a distance Jaehyun can only wish to close. “...busy.”
“Busy? Sanghyuk-ah, do you even hear yourself right now?” Jaehyun pauses, raking a hand down his face. “Dongmin and Sungho spent, like, a good ten minutes fighting over movie decision rights, and Woonhak and Donghyun were doing some weird thing with the snacks, and I—”
Jaehyun cut himself off. What was he about to say? That I spent the entire time sitting on that couch alone waiting for the sound of your footsteps that I’ve long memorised to walk up to the doorway and join me like you always do? That I’m too used to having you around it feels like I’ve forgotten how to live, when for all I know you could be on the other side of the earth, trying to get as far away from me as possible? That Sanghyuk can be without Jaehyun, but without Sanghyuk, Jaehyun’s nothing?
“I just—” Jaehyun scrambles to continue, hoping Sanghyuk doesn’t hear the desperation in his voice, “I just thought you forgot.” He can’t keep out the disappointment, however.
There’s nothing but the traffic and the sharp whip of the night breeze for a moment, and Jaehyun’s heart drops, preparing for the worst. Then Sanghyuk speaks again. “I didn’t, Jaehyun-ah. I’m sorry, really. Just— just give me five.” His voice is soft and gentle, placating, almost. Like he’s talking to a crying child. “I’ll tell you about it later, okay? I’m coming as quick as I can.”
There’s still a gaping hole in between them, even now, in the guarded way Sanghyuk’s talking, like he’s worried he might say something wrong and set Jaehyun off again. As though Jaehyun is someone to be careful around. It stings.
Jaehyun works his mouth, then sighs. “...Okay.”
“Just make sure they don’t put on anything too crazy.”
A small laugh makes its way out of Jaehyun’s throat somehow. “Well, Dongmin picked his favourite.”
“Are you serious? I'm going to fall asleep. I still don’t get why he likes that movie,” Sanghyuk groans, a little dramatic, and his small giggles makes Jaehyun smile, just a bit.
They stay in silence for a beat more, before Sanghyuk finally speaks. “Go back in, Jaehyun-ah. I’ll be there soon,” he says, voice low. His breathing has evened out, through the speaker, though it still sounded a little shallow through the phone.
Strangely enough, the tone that Sanghyuk uses is just like the day before, back in their own apartment. He sounds tired. Worn out. Jaehyun wonders what could possibly make Sanghyuk this way. Mostly, he wonders why Sanghyuk won’t tell him.
Jaehyun wishes he had something better to say, but finds he can’t keep Sanghyuk on the line for any longer. He worries his lip between his teeth a little more, before he mutters defeatedly, “Okay.”
He watches the screen of his phone go dark when Sanghyuk hangs up, and lingers outside a little while more.
***
Jaehyun feels Sanghyuk before he sees him arrive.
A slowing of footsteps. A rattle. A soft presence behind the apartment door, as if bracing themselves to go in. The hesitant first push of the door as Sanghyuk steps in, as quietly as he can. It takes everything in Jaehyun not to turn around immediately.
“Hey, you’re here, hyung!” Woonhak grins. Sanghyuk’s still busy putting down his backpack; Jaehyun doesn’t miss the way he’s oddly careful about it, not throwing it down haphazardly like he normally would.
There’s a strain in his arm as the bag settles on the floor, a tension in his shoulders Jaehyun knows he shouldn’t read into. He can’t help it, either way.
Jaehyun makes an effort not to look up at Sanghyuk’s face. In the corner of his vision, he can make out the sliver of a smile on Sanghyuk, falling flat in the largely silent room, save the dramatic orchestral music spilling out the television.
There’s still space next to Jaehyun on the couch, not completely unintentional. Jaehyun shifts to make more room when Sanghyuk moves towards the sofa.
Quieter now, as if directed only to Jaehyun, Sanghyuk murmurs, “Sorry I’m late.”
Jaehyun feels his gaze softening even as Sanghyuk said the words. Curse him and his lack of resolve. “You didn’t have to rush,” he says, though that isn’t the truth at all.
The air outside is cool, and Jaehyun can feel a few loose draughts drifting into the room like boats out on open sea, tickling his bare toes; yet Sanghyuk’s hair is plastered to his forehead, the sheen of sweat on his neck visible under the room’s warm light. He looked like he’d run a mile. Jaehyun can feel his brows tightening when he sees Sangyuk gearing up to give another excuse to explain his unexplainable behaviour, and he’s certain now he won’t believe anything Sanghyuk might say next.
“No, it’s my fault. There was this—” Sanghyuk chuckles, drawn out, strained, “girl, who, uh, dropped her phone. Long story. I chased her down, uh…4th Ave. To return it.”
Jaehyun raises a brow. “You chased a girl for twenty minutes?”
“I’m…sorry,” Sanghyuk whispers, voice low so it doesn’t carry. He gives an apologetic smile. “I didn’t forget. I promise.”
4th Avenue. Why did it sound so familiar?
But Jaehyun doesn’t prod. Instead he stares back at Sanghyuk, a fuzzy outline of his favourite person in the whole wide world, rippled by the shifting colours of the screen, an amalgamation of blues and yellows and greens and the brilliant brown of Sanghyuk’s eyes.
“I know,” Jaehyun says, and he tries his best to mean it.
Sanghyuk smiles back at him, a slow, gentle lifting of his lips. Before Jaehyun could do anything he’s sure he’ll regret, he turns back to the television.
Everyone is settled in comfortably: Donghyun is on the floor, resting his head back on Dongmin’s knees, Sungho staring at the screen with razor sharp focus. Woonhak’s busy at the corner on a swivel chair, swinging himself back and forth. The movie is something he’s seen before, and Jaehyun can pretend to pay attention to Jack and Rose and the sinking ship, but his world still narrows down to the warmth next to him, radiating from Sanghyuk’s arm.
Jaehyun’s brain kind of freezes. This is a moment when he would usually lean into Sanghyuk’s touch, act cheesy and affectionate in the way he knows Sanghyuk will put up with, but today the barrier between them is like a lock on Jaehyun, restraining him from doing anything of the sort, from even coming too close to brush shoulders with Sanghyuk.
There’s a buzz in his head, blanking out all thoughts except: things used to be easier.
It’s what plays out in his mind now, helplessly flipping through memories. Back in sophomore year, when Jaehyun finally managed to convince Sanghyuk into rooming together, with ridiculous amounts of weedling and whining. Boxes of their things were stacked up around the apartment everywhere, and there was this feeling, the same one Jaehyun feels even now, that crawled its way into his chest and made a home there.
Or that summer of freshman year, brilliant and warm, the summer Jaehyun’s life brightened forever. It wasn’t like he didn’t have friends; rather, it was the opposite. He had friends, a whole list of them, but none that mattered the way Sanghyuk did. There was a softness that existed only between them and no one else; in a shared look, in a brush of knees, in the highlight of Sanghyuk’s eyes when lit by summer.
It was easy. So easy, Jaehyun can’t tell when that changed. Maybe a few months into their third year together, when Sanghyuk started acting strange and distant, lies springing up easily on his tongue. That first time Jaehyun figured something was wrong, he should’ve pointed it out, told Sanghyuk he’d be there for him, instead of being a coward like he always is. He was afraid, afraid to lose what closeness they had.
But for now, all that exists within Jaehyun’s field of view is the glowing television screen and the darkness of Sanghyuk’s figure next to him. He supposes it’s enough, for now. These days, he just has to make do with taking whatever he can get.
It’s still easy, too easy, to fall back into a false rhythm. To sink into the couch and convince himself everything will be alright soon, as long as he keeps his eyes on the movie and feels the heat from Sanghyuk’s body and the dip in the cushion where Sanghyuk’s weight sinks it down. Normal. Right.
The moment shatters when Jaehyun feels Sanghyuk stiffen beside him.
It’s a small movement. His shoulders raise, his gaze wanders. Anybody else could have ignored it, would have, but Jaehyun— he can’t ignore this. Not anymore.
He thinks he knew this was going to happen the moment Sanghyuk stepped into the room, looking like he was already someplace else.
“I—” Sanghyuk stammers out, fiddling with his backpack anxiously, “I have to…go.”
Jaehyun looks at him, eyes wide. Time freezes, then slows, then quickens so rapidly Jaehyun can no longer catch up.
“Now?” He asks. He can’t help the way his heart still drops, the disappointment seeping through everything.
Sanghyuk looks genuinely pained as he reaches for his bag. His voice trembles, just slightly. Jaehyun wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t know what to look for. “Yeah. I…it— it’s important.”
Jaehyun holds Sanghyuk’s eyes for just a moment longer. It still feels like a moment too long. He wants to tear his eyes away, but Sanghyuk’s eyes are glassy and unfocused, desperation bleeding into every movement, and Jaehyun knows he can’t stop Sanghyuk, no matter where he’s leaving to.
“Okay,” he whispers. There’s nothing left to say.
Sanghyuk lingers, as if he doesn’t want to leave. But eventually he gets up, a quick and sudden action, and makes for the door. The sound of it clicking behind him is drowned out by the film still playing, and just like that he is gone, off again to someplace Jaehyun can’t reach him.
There is a sting behind Jaehyun’s eyes, but he doesn’t let the tears fall. If anything, he can just blame the stupid movie, though judging by the way Donghyun looks up at him from the floor questioningly, that might be a little hard too.
Things haven’t been normal for a while. Jaehyun was a fool to think he could pretend they were alright. The empty space next to him is now colder than it had been before Sanghyuk came, and somewhere in Jaehyun’s ribcage his heart aches.
When Jaehyun forces his eyes to sharpen again on the screen, he finds himself hating what he sees. He’s watched this film before; he knows the ending. He’s not sure why he’s watching it again in spite of that.