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Keonho remembers that gut-wrenching night on the rooftop of Oscorp all too well.
He had just defeated the most recent supernatural threat imposed on Queens—’The Lizard,’ as they called him—but it was too late. Captain Eom, the head of the police force of NYC, had already been stabbed through flesh and bones, blood trickling all the way down his torso to his legs from where The Lizard’s jagged claws had impaled him.
Keonho lost it. He screamed, cried, begged—tried everything he could to get the captain to hang on just a little bit longer. He slid his hands underneath the captain, gathering him up in his arms despite being exhausted and drained to the point of slipping into unconsciousness after his victorious battle that did not seem glorious in the slightest at the moment.
“Come on. Come on! Just hang on! I’ve got you okay? We have time…I can get you to the hospital. We can save you! Please don’t…” Keonho yelled desperately through broken sobs, over the city's raging uproar.
However, the captain refused to budge. He freed himself from Spider-Man’s grasp and settled upright against a sputtering wind ventilator.
Keonho was dumbfounded, to say the least. “Wha- what are you doing? We’ve got to go!”
Captain Eom completely disregarded his pleas and instead huffed out, “I was wrong about you, Ahn.”
“Huh?”
The captain chuckled, his lips curving upwards despite his current fatal condition. “Y’know when I first met you…” He paused. “I thought you were no good. Just a rebellious kid who had a knack for being a troublemaker. Didn’t think you were right for my son at all. Even tried talking him into stopping seeing you.”
Truthfully speaking, Keonho wasn’t all too surprised to hear this. He knew he had made a pretty bad first impression on Seonghyeon’s dad when he initially got invited to eat dinner at the Eom house. Being Spider-Man himself, Keonho argued against the captain in the superhero’s favor, knowing the police were under the impression of him being a “dangerous masked vigilante” and had been on the lookout for him ever since.
“Let me tell you something, kid.” He continued, wincing at the sharp pain coursing throughout his body. “In this new life of yours—fighting crime and bad guys—you’re gonna go through a hell of a lot. Trust me. I’ve been in this business almost two decades now. But what’s important is you don’t let it get to you. You keep fighting for what you believe in. Never give up, regardless of how tempting it may seem.”
Keonho couldn’t form coherent words. Just inarticulate stutters of broken noises through weeps and sobs. He firmly pressed his palms over the wounds on Captain Eom’s abdomen, as if it would stop the blood from spilling and somehow save his life, even though he knew it wouldn’t—he just didn’t want to seem useless, doing nothing to help while someone’s life bled out in front of him. Especially when that life belonged to the father of the boy he was so hopelessly in love with.
“For my final wish, just promise me one thing, Ahn, alright?”
Keonho nodded frantically, sweat-soaked untidy hair bouncing around messily, tears laving all over his purple and blue bruised face.
“Just leave Seong out of it.” His tone was final.
Keonho’s eyes darkened. “Uh, I... I-I can’t…”
“Promise me, Keonho.”
The look on his face and the hardness in his voice made it impossible to refuse.
“Ye- yeah…” The arachnid breathed out, voice barely above a whisper.
The captain managed one final smirk. He wearily reached out his trembling hand to affectionately ruffle the top of Keonho’s hair, before it immediately dropped as if tugged by an invisible force, along with his head, which lolled back, his eyes remaining open.
Processing what just happened, Keonho scrambled. He shook the Captain’s shoulders as hard as he could, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Captain! Captain! No! Don’t do this! No no no no”
After accepting that the captain was indeed beyond the point of revival, Keonho let out the most agonizing yell he had in him—one he hadn’t let out since the mournful death of his beloved uncle. The sound that came out of him wasn’t a scream anymore. It was something raw and animal, the kind of noise a person only makes when they’ve got nothing left. It didn’t sound human at all.
The funeral was held the next day. An assembly of endless black jackets and coats clustered around Calvary Cemetery. It felt like the whole town had shown up. The mayor, the entire police force, various politicians, social workers…too many people for Seonghyeon to keep up with.
Despite the many people gathered to honor his father’s tragic passing, throughout the entirety of the funeral procession, his eyes kept darting around, searching for one particular face in the crowd.
At some points during the event, he felt the sensation of a familiar gaze linger on him from the corner of his eye, but as soon as his retinas followed, nobody would be there. He must be imagining things.
Half an hour passed.
An hour passed.
Minute after minute.
Eulogy after eulogy.
And then it was over.
He never showed up.
As if devastation wasn’t enough already, Seonghyeon felt the final piece of what remained of his hollowed heart shatter.
And just like that, the crowd dispersed, thinning out slowly, leaving Seonghyeon standing alone in front of his father’s burial site, staring at it intently as if willing his dad to rise from the dead.
Nothing changed.
After about 15 more minutes sorrowfully spent grieving alone, he too decided to head home and indulge in a well-deserved, much-needed rest.
Little did he know, though, that Keonho had been present from the very beginning. Hanging upside down from a ledge near the rear end of the cobblestone church—watching everything take place silently from his own unique perspective, including how Seonghyeon constantly scanned the crowd every few minutes.
His web-shooters itched. One swing and he'd be at his side. But the promise held him in place. He remained even after everyone had left. He stayed because Seonghyeon did. He wanted to be by his side no matter what, even if it were only in spirit and not physically. Even if the other boy thought that he had been stood up. Even if he began to resent him for it.
It was only after Seonghyeon made his exit that Keonho descended from his perched spot to swing by and place a bouquet of white lilies near the former Captain’s headstone, paying his final homage.
As if out of pure cinematic convenience, dark rain clouds and heavy downpour followed the next day, painting the well-lit afternoon sky a dusty shade of gray, one that mimicked the atmosphere witnessed in the city of London.
Seonghyeon paced through the barren, slippery streets, black umbrella held high and trench coat wrapped firmly around his figure.
He carefully made his way up the front steps of the Ahn’s porch and rapped on the wooden door.
Within thirty seconds, Keonho appeared at the door sill, face still scarred with battle bruises.
His eyes widened, and he somewhat resembled a deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
They both stood there, quietly staring at each other for what felt like an entire minute. A whole conversation passed between them silently, as if their eyes did the talking for them.
Seonghyeon was the first to break the silence.
“My dad’s funeral was yesterday.” He looked and sounded like he was on the verge of breaking down into tears.
“Everybody showed up.” He started monotonously.
A pause.
“Even Jackson showed up!” Voice level raised, anger building up and clearly evident.
Another pause.
The mention of Seonghyeon’s absolute asshole of an ex made something ugly stir low in Keonho’s stomach.
“You didn’t show up…” The harsh reality came out whiny and barely audible.
Keonho’s mind was racing a million miles per second. He could hear his own pulse rapidly thumping loudly in his ears. His heart physically ached from not being able to confess the truth to Seonghyeon. His muscles sore from holding back the urge to wrap his arms around the teary-eyed boy. His stomach lurched from being deprived of the desire to pull him into a kiss right here in the pouring rain and shower him with apologies and sweet nothings. Keonho couldn’t take it anymore. His body began to tremble viciously. He felt tears well up in his eyes as his breathing became ragged and heavy.
“Why…?” Seonghyeon’s question came out hushed but pleading.
Keonho didn’t respond immediately. His mind was too foggy, and he was deliberating on a way to let Seonghyeon down lightly.
“Hyeon, look…I-I just can’t…” Keonho tried to manage between deep exhales.
“You can't what, Keonho!?” The older boy was undoubtedly growing impatient and desperate for answers.
“I can’t see you anymore!” Keonho blurted out; the younger’s own voice shot up, unable to hold it in anymore.
The silence that followed was deafening.
No sound other than that of rain violently crashing against the concrete pavement and Keonho’s unstable, heaving breath could be heard.
Salty streams were free-falling down the brunette’s fragile face now, soaking him despite the umbrella still held upright above his head, sheltering him from the bellowing storm outside whose booming thunder and racket matched the inner turmoil of his own heart.
Keonho couldn’t bear to watch. He tucked his head under his elbow resting on the doorframe as Seonghyeon continued to watch him observantly, as if he were searching his face for any more signs or hints that would give away any explanation Keonho himself failed to deliver. Yet, he unsuccessfully found none.
Seonghyeon said nothing. Made no effort to wipe away his tears. Lips quivering, he just nodded twice in painful understanding and descended the porch steps, surrendering to the circumstances.
Keonho’s heart ached as his body yearned, witnessing the boy he loves more than anything walk away from his life in a matter of seconds while he helplessly stood unmoving.
Seonghyeon halted at the final step. He turned around slowly and gave Keonho a final longing glance.
“He made you promise, didn't he?” The question hung in the air, the implication clear.
On seeing Keonho’s unbroken resolve to speak no further, he continued.
“To stay away from me so that I’d be safe.” He finished off, clarifying his question that Keonho had already understood but refused to answer.
Seeing the broken expression on Keonho’s beaten-up face gave Seonghyeon just the answer he was looking for.
And with that, Seonghyeon ultimately departed.
...
Keonho stayed outside on his porch in the pouring rain, staring at the spot where Seonghyeon once stood for another 10 whole minutes, completely unbothered by the fact that he might catch a cold afterwards.
When he finally closed his front door, his head fell heavily forward and leaned against it as an exhausted sigh parted his lips.
”Very pretty boy.”
The sudden remark caught Keonho off-guard, snapping him out of his respiteful reverie.
He turned around to see his aunt moving toiletries around the house. He figured that she must’ve caught a glimpse of his exchange with Seonghyeon.
”He’s the one you’ve got on your desktop, isn’t he?” She continued.
Keonho’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he sheepishly admitted, “Yeah…”
”So, did you ask him out?” She inquired, sounding genuinely intrigued.
Keonho winced ‘cause he knew that he had in fact done quite the exact opposite. He ran a hand through his sporadic hair, “No…” he replied, “I don’t think I’m any good for him.”
His aunt let out an amused scoff as she chuckled and stated matter-of-factly, “The Ahn Keonho I know is nothing if not good. If anyone were to say he isn’t, then they don’t know who they’re talking about.” Her voice trailed off as she trudged away to lounge in the living room.
The gears in Keonho's mind whirred like clockwork, racing off into all different directions at once. His internal monologue speaking at a rate of a thousand words per minute—too fast for him to process—as his aunt’s words took time to fully settle into his consciousness. He weighed his options and considered the possible outcomes before eventually coming to a conclusion. Huh.
Keonho was back in school the following week despite the prior series of unfortunate events.
He sluggishly collected his books from his locker, tugged his jacket hoodie over his head—not willing to be seen—and slammed the locker door shut with more aggression than intended.
He pulled his skateboard down from over his shoulder and began swerving through the hallways towards 6th period, books balanced in hand.
The corridor was packed with students making their daily commutes between classes, lockers, and study halls. Keonho still managed to proficiently steer past them without bumping into anyone, a testament to his hours spent practicing and perfecting his skills.
Nobody paid heed nor seemed to notice him treating the school’s polished floors like a literal skating rink until Mr. Park, his quantum physics teacher, emerged from the science lab.
“Want to keep that skateboard, Ahn?” He paused and called out, his voice firm with an underlying tone of warning.
“Uh…yeah?” Keonho hesitantly replied, confused.
“Then keep those wheels off the ground.” He ordered point-blank and walked off.
“My bad,” Keonho muttered, lifting the skateboard up and over his shoulder once again.
When he entered biology class, he was greeted by an unexpectedly dark room. The only source of light was the one coming from the presentation projected on the screen. Mrs. Kim had already begun her lecture on cross-species genetic variants.
“Tardy again, Mr. Ahn,” She noted, interrupting herself mid-explanation.
“I’m sorry, Miss. I promise it won’t ever happen again.” Keonho apologized as he made his way through the crammed classroom and took his seat right behind Seonghyeon’s.
“You know you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, Keonho,” She added before promptly returning to her lecture.
Keonho grinned as he slightly leaned forward and responded to Mrs. Kim’s remark in a cheeky whisper so faint that only the person sitting right in front of him could hear.
“Yeah, but those are the best kind.”
Surprised at first due to the breaking of the no-contact rule Keonho himself had decided to put in place, the words slowly registered in Seonghyeon’s mind as he finally caught up to what the mischievous younger boy was implying.
Seonghyeon’s lips gradually curved up into a small smirk before he—unable to contain his ecstasy—openly smiled, blinding pearly whites on display as a giddy chuckle of eagerness mixed with relief escaped his mouth.
He couldn’t wait for whatever adventure was next.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖