Archive of Our Own ^omega

Chapter Text

“But where does oat milk actually come from? Like, do they feed the cows oats before milking?” 

Seungmin has spent over four years in the hospitality industry. He serves people almost every day a week and will continue too against his own good will because he is barely affording New York City rent as it is and has decades worth of student loans to pay off. He is a calm, cool, and collected barista who will treat people to friendly smiles as they enter and kind farewells as he leaves. He is mature, he is mature, he is mature.

But his efforts are almost never rewarded, because he finds himself being tested. Every single day.

“Oat milk comes from oats.” Seungmin states, the strained smile on his face twitching. “They mix the oats with water to make it.” 

The young man in front of him frowns, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, so it's not really milk.”

“No, I think that’s the whole point.”

“But I want milk in my cappuccino, not water.”

“Then you should probably order whole milk.” Seungmin grits his teeth in an effort to not bite out the words. There’s a line growing behind the young man, all of whom tap their feet impatiently and release great sighs of frustration, glaring daggers not only into the man keeping them waiting but Seungmin himself. Like he can do anything about this situation.

The guy juts his head back, eyebrows furrowed and face twisted in offence. He scoffs in Seungmin's face.

“I just told you I’m vegan. I don't want whole milk but I still want a milk.”

“That’s-” Seungmin splutters, feeling his professionalism dribble out of his body by the second. This had to be a crappy episode of ‘What Would You Do?’ because Seungmin could not believe this guy was a real, living, breathing, unscripted person. “All milk besides the plant based ones won't be vegan. You either drink the water milk or you drink the cow milk.”

“I don’t like the way you’re speaking to me right now.”

“I genuinely don’t know how else I can convey this information.”

“Okay, where is your manager?” The guy huffed, leaning to peer over Seungmin’s shoulder and behind the counter. “I’d like to speak to him about your attitude.”

“If you think this is attitude-”

“Okay!” Seungmin’s friend and long time coworker, Hyunjin, pushes a buzzing Seungmin rather harshly out of the way and shoots the guy with a charismatic smile. Seungmin grumbles, glaring daggers at the young man. He’s lucky there's a counter between them. “Ignore my coworker. He’s new here.”

Seungmin has actually worked here for two years, but that's Hyunjin’s go to line when Seungmin starts getting heated with a customer. It’s also Seungmin’s sign to walk himself to the corner and calm himself down, which he does silently and begrudgely.

The guy raises a brow. “That doesn't excuse his behaviour.” He eyes Seungmin with a harsh look, one that has Seungmin fighting the urge to roll his own eyes from his timeout corner. The method may be a bit childish, but putting some distance between himself and irritating customers really benefits everybody in a nearby radius.

Hyunjin laughs purely out of politeness. “No, it doesn't, but it does earn you a small drink on us. I promise it’ll be very vegan and very much filled with milk.”

The guy considers this, thinning his lips. “It’ll definitely have real milk?”

“I swear on my life. In fact I swear on his, too.” Hyunjin points behind him to Seungmin, to which Seungmin blanks.

“Uh-”

“Just take a seat at one of our tables and I’ll bring it to you shortly.” Hyunjin bares his teeth in a charming smile, one that always has customers nodding and compliant to his words, and soon after the young man is silently whisked away into one of the corner booths, typing away at his phone. Good, Seungmin thinks as he watches Hyunjin raise a hand to gesture for the new customer in line to wait for a moment, let that guy brood away in the corner and tweet about how rude Seungmin is. Seungmin doesn't even have twitter, so he’ll never see it anyway. Out of sight, out of mind.

Hyunjin spins on his heel and Seungmin is met with the deadliest glare one could muster. Sadly, he’s never been on the receiving end of Hyunjin’s charming smiles, and today was no exception. Seungmin gulps as Hyunjin stomps over and roughly grabs him by the shoulder.

“Dude, we’ve talked about this! You can’t talk back to the customers!” He exclaims in a hushed whisper.

 “I didn’t! Or- I wasn’t, but then he kept asking stupid questions like, ‘Oh, I want vegan milk but I don’t want it made out of water-’” His imitation is incredibly irritating and hard to listen to and Seungmin thinks its right on the money, “and ‘Oh, I want my coffee extra hot but I don't want it to burn.’ Why get it extra hot then?! Why make things more difficult?”

“Yeah, well now things are difficult because you couldn't just lie to him and put soy milk in his coffee. Now, I have to give him a free coffee. Free coffee, Seungmin! One small is like nine dollars nowadays. We cannot be giving away money like that” Hyunjin stresses, his grip on Seungmin tightening. Seungmin winces, prying his hand away.

“Dude come on. We’re a chain store, there’s like five other locations in the city. We’re not going to lose any revenue.” Seungmin retorted, rubbing at his arm with a pout. Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to make this small, extra hot soy milk cappuccino and give it to that condescending, annoyingly chic looking man for free. In the meantime, you are going to take the orders of the eleven people that are currently waiting behind me-” Seungmin peers over his shoulder and his heart drops at the sight of the now longer line of bothered customers, “and you are not going to argue with a single one of them.”

Hyunjin turns to walk towards the coffee machine, ripping out the group handle with a click and filling it with coffee grinds. Seungmin is about to accept defeat and drag his feet towards the counter when he pauses.

“You swore on my life it would be real milk.” He mentions. Hyunjin sighs loudly.

“Yeah, I’m hoping I hear a thud as soon as I give it to him.”

Noted, Seungmin thinks.

It’s a couple hours later when the rush of the afternoon has died down and the sky outside has turned a warm shade of golden amber. It shines through the front doors that are hollowed out with glass and illuminates the coffee shop with a soft, hazy glow.

Hyunjin is sweeping out the front, humming a soft tune. His frustration towards Seungmin's minute outburst had since long faded, swept away with the constant ups and downs of a busy shift. Seungmin too had lost the energy to bite back at considerably unkept customers, instead nodding along with a dead eyed look and a debilitating will to live.

It’s close to closing time when the bell above the front door rings, signalling an entering customer, and Seungmin fights back an exhausted sigh.

He’ll proudly admit it. No amount of years in the hospitality industry could make him mature enough to handle a seven hour shift with grace. In fact, all these years have done is chip away at him, slowly devouring his soul until he dies at the hands of capitalism and unmovable debt. Sue him if he fights back with particularly rude customers. Burn him at the stake if he hides in the cooler room while Hyunjin single handedly deals with a rush. Crucify him if he purposefully skips the chocolate powder on takeaway orders because they don’t have time for that right now.

But do not blame him for wanting to close up in peace.

He had been replacing the coffee beans in the grinder when he heard the bell ring and the front door swing open, so he placed the lid back on and begrudgingly brought himself to the counter.

Much to his pleasant surprise, it was no ordinary customer greeting him at the front. It was Chan.

“Hey, mate. Busy day?” Chan grins, leaning against the counter. Seungmin could cry with relief, seeing his friend's face instead of a fresh customer. It was exactly what he needed after a long shift and it helped to untwist the tightening coil of exhaustion growing in his stomach.

“Always a busy day. You here for a coffee?” Seungmin asks. Chan shakes his head.

“Nah, just walking by and thought I’d come see you.” Seungmin wants to leap across the counter and kiss him. Trust Chan to end his shift in the most undemanding way. He doesn't think his brain could handle making more latte art right now.

“I’m glad. We hardly cross paths on campus, I feel like I never see you anymore.” Seungmin pouts childishly, and to his delight it makes Chan chuckle playfully.

“Yeah, well, I’m never really outside the studio anyway. Oh! Speaking of which, has Changbin spoken to you about the showcase night?”

Seungmin hums in response. His roommate, Changbin, had mentioned the other evening of an arts showcase night where he and Chan would be presenting their music projects from the semester, as well as other performances from respective classes of the arts. The music courses, visual arts, dance, all of the above would be showcasing their hard work.

“He did. Jeongin and I have already gotten our shifts covered for it.” Seungmin smiles, and Chan grins in response.

“Perfect! I have a feeling you’ll love the visual arts section.”

“Are you talking about the arts showcase?” Hyunjin sprouts from absolutely nowhere beside Chan, causing the older man to yelp in surprise and clasp a hand to his chest.

“Don’t scare him.” Seungmin immediately reprimands. “His old heart is fragile.”

“I’m in the arts showcase!” Hyunjin beams, pointedly ignoring Seungmin's chastising. “I’m a Fine Arts major!”

Chan furrows his brows, hand still held close to his heart as he examines the boy before him. “You go to our college?” He questions.

“Chan, this is Hyunjin," Seungmin dutifully introduces with a weak gesture, feeling blinded by Hyunjin's sudden bright burst of energy. “He’s a third year student at our school.”

Hyunjin smiles at Chan, leaning on his broom casually. Seungmin can understand Chan’s confusion. Hyunjin doesn’t look like a charismatic, bubbly character with the aesthetic he’s got going on. The dark, fluffy buzzcut and striking mixture of ear piercings with a shiny thin hoop pierced into his lower lip that he definitely should not be wearing at work exudes a broody, almost uncaring image.

It couldn't be any further from the truth however, because Hyunjin is the most emotional and dramatic person Seungmin knows, and he's confident Hyunjin uses art as a way to further express such sentiments.

Chan visibly softens. He’s always instinctively held a special sort of kindness kept for those younger than him. In Seungmin's eyes, Chan is a natural born leader, and Seungmin has known that from the moment he saw him helping freshman on his orientation day.

“I see. So you’ll be there too?” Chan asks, and Hyunjin nods quickly.

“Yeah! I’ll definitely check your section out. It’s crazy we’ve never met at one of the previous showcases.”

Chan smiles, turning to Seungmin with the glimpse of a playful shine in his eye. Seungmin immediately wants to walk away. “Or that Seungmin has never introduced us. Minnie, you trying to keep your cool artsy friends away from each other?"

“I just keep my life private, thank you very much.” Seungmin swats lightly at Chan’s shoulder, who steps back with a faux cry of pain and a wince etched into his face.

“Oh, you wound me. Am I not important enough to be brought up to your coworkers?”

“Don’t make me sound like a bad person!”

“He doesn’t need to. Don't think I didn't see you make half of that lady’s latte purely foam.” Hyunjin quips from the side, an amused smile playing at his lips. Seungmin groans loudly.

“This is why you two should have never met. You’ll just gang up against me.”

“Hey, I like you, Hyunjin. How about we go to the showcase and leave Seungmin on his own?” Chan turns to Hyunjin, dropping his pained victim act like a hot potato. Hyunjin hums in emphasised consideration, tapping a finger to his chin thoughtfully.

“I think I’d like that very much.” He confirms with a nod, “we can ditch him as soon as we arrive.”

They both turn to Seungmin eagerly, awaiting the reaction they so overtly played to get. Seungmin stares at them in silence, eyes flickering between the two. This newfound friendship feels dangerous, like Seungmin's two worlds–his bustling school life and his exhausting work life–had just collided and created a supernova in front of him. Something irreversible.

Seungmin is, quite frankly, too tired to offer any sort of reaction other than a pronounced:

“Chan, get out of my cafe.”

The spring breeze bites bitterly at Seungmin this morning, offering no indulgement as Seungmin forcibly power walks against it.

His lecture starts at 9:30AM and his alarm clock ruefully failed to wake him at 8, leaving his body clock to wake him at 9:15. He had fifteen minutes to throw together a sloppy eyesore of an outfit consisting of old sweatpants he found on his floor and a white tee that was fraying at the collar, book it to the bus that will take him directly outside his university's science sector and speed walk across campus to the humanities sector and find his class.

It only slightly startles him off course when a head of freshly dyed, bright orange hair materialises beside him, marching with matching desperation.

“What the hell.” Seungmin pants, not slowing down to make conversation. Jeongin wordlessly follows in pursuit, and Seungmin lets his eyes rake down Jeongin’s frazzled state.

“Tzuyu turned off my alarm this morning and then didn't wake me up. I had to run from home to make it here in time.” Jeongin grumbles breathlessly. Huh, so they're in the same boat. As they continue to hustle across campus vigorously, Seungmin can’t help but huff out a laugh at their predicament. Somehow, they’ve both managed to sleep through their alarms and end up pacing through campus side by side. People have always teased the two of them for their paralleling antics, but this was almost comical.

“Maybe you should stop relying on your sister to wake you up. How old are you again?” Seungmin smirks, much to Jeongin’s frustration.

“She turned it off!” Jeongin exclaims, although weak with exasperation, “Turned it off and then didn't wake me! Does she think I set it on for shits and giggles?”

“I think we’re both going to get our asses handed to us if we show up in the middle of the lecture.” Seungmin claims as they enter their building, the lecture hall door in sight. Seungmin grabs Jeongin’s arm and halts them right before they push open the door.

“If Professor Park pounces on us as soon as we enter, there was an accident in the streets that we got caught up in, okay?”

Their professor was a nasty old man with clearly no love for teaching and a mind too complicated to explain. Rumour has it that the man’s wife had recently left him, which posed even more torment and malicious treatment towards his students. Professor Park hates when people miss his lectures almost as much as he hates teaching them.

Jeongin frowns, clearly conflicted. “What if he checks the news and knows we lied?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Jeongin. This is New York City. There's bound to be an accident anyway.”

Jeongin makes a face as if to say, ‘yeah, that’s true,’ and nods in acceptance. Mutually, they exude a sharp breath of air and push open the doors to their shared class.

They are instantly met with a breezy, light chatter carrying around the room and a vacant lectern. Professor Park is absent from the front of the room, and their classmates are still conversing casually. 

“Oh, thank God.” Jeongin deflates with a great sigh and a hand to his heart. Seungmin relaxes too, floating into the classroom easier than he thought he would. Jeongin and he find their usual seats towards the back of the class, sinking into the hard plastic material.

“Professor Park is never late.” Jeongin notes as they settle into their seats and pull out their notebooks and stationary. Jeongin likes to carry around an entire office supply store in his small backpack, always comparable to Mary Poppins when he begins pulling out more and more pencils and books, while Seungmin keeps a tri-color pen and highlighter in his pockets religiously and holds his books in his hand. He likes to keep room for whatever caffeinated drink he decides to buy in the morning, but because nothing can ever be easy for him, he wasn't able to fit a coffee run into his hectic morning.

“Maybe something divine is on our side after a bad start to the day. Like good karma, or something.” Seungmin shrugs indifferently, feeling his eyes subconsciously droop with lack of caffeine support. Jeongin hums at that.

“It’s about time. I hope I find a ten dollar bill on the side of the street.”

“I’d be happy with a dollar bill. Or a coupon. Or monopoly money.” Seungmin sighs, and it triggers him to then yawn widely, covering his mouth with his hand out of politeness.

Jeongin quirks a smile at the expression he pulls. “Haven’t had your coffee yet?”

“No, I didn’t have time. Did you?” He asks.

“Tzuyu left some coffee in the pot and I basically poured it straight into my mouth.” Jeongin says, and Seungmin whines immaturely at the unfairness of it all. Changbin would never leave even a drop of coffee left in the pot, the greedy jerk. Seungmin melts into the pull-out table with a pout, resting his head on his folded arms. He doesn't care how childish he seems, he’s tired and cranky and cannot be bothered sitting in a lecture for the next two hours.

Jeongin appears to take pity on him, because he drops his head onto his own table to meet Seungmin's eyes. “Do you want to go get coffee together after this?” He offers, and Seungmin literally feels the life burst back into his eyes.

“Can we not go to Empire Coffee?” Seungmin asks quietly. He would rather fall asleep and get berated by Professor Park than step foot in his place of work when he's not required to.

Jeongin nods like he's comforting a small child. “We can not go to Empire Coffee.” He confirms, and Seungmin very slowly rises from the table, blinking the sleep out of his eye. “Okay. Cool. Thank you.”

Jeongin huffs out a laugh but is halted from responding when Professor Park throws the open the doors to the classroom and hurdles in with a frenzied energy about him. He spits out excuses about traffic and idiots in the city and the classroom dims immediately, preparing for the next two hours of snarky remarks and passive aggressive teachings. 

They spend a lot of the lesson flicking wads of crumbled paper at each other and making fun of their classmates' horrid postures, and before they know it, they’re slipping out the doors and back into the spring breeze.

“Did Professor Park seem weird to you today?” Jeongin questions as they step through the metro sliding doors and begin their ascent up the subway stairs.

“Weirder than usual? Hard to tell.” Seungmin replies. The old man has always been an oddball of sorts. Erratic, snappy, closed off. Seungmin had assumed that college had just ruined the man, as did college to a lot of people, and that he had lost his love for teaching but was forced to stay in the job. 

Jeongin purses his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking things.” He pauses, eyes pointed to the ground as he walks, and then continues. “I just have a bad feeling.”

Seungmin turns his head to the boy, brows furrowed. It’s unlike Jeongin to be caught up in his feelings rather than knowledge. If Jeongin not only has a bad feeling about something, but chooses to voice it, then something must be wrong with the younger one.

“Hey-” Seungmin begins softly, attempting to gently coax some more information out of him, but is instantly cut off by the echoing screams of citizens across the street.

Both boys freeze in their tracks, heads whipping towards the source. Across the bustling roads, people begin to race past a seemingly average bank. From their spot across the street, it looked as though there were no signs of distress or danger, but if Seungmin had been standing outside the bank, he would have heard the boasts of angry demands being ordered at screaming customers who fell to the floor in fear.

Seungmin could not hear the man-made terror elicited from inside the bank, but what he could hear was the mechanical bang of a gun echoing off the bank walls.

“Oh, shit!” Jeongin yelps, dropping to a crouch in an instant. The people around them have picked up on the growing danger and have begun to race past in fear.  “Dude, we have to get out of here. I cannot fucking get shot. I can’t afford the ambulance bill.” Crowds have formed on both sides of the road, all pushing past each other and stumbling over their feet to avoid the sting of a bullet in their side. The sound still rings in Seungmin’s ears, looping like a jinxed mantra. They need to get out of here and they need to get out of here fast.

Seungmin’s eyes darted across the scene, searching for a quick and easy escape route. He quickly clocks an opening up ahead where the street splits into four and the sidewalk traffic seems to ease. He’s about to push Jeongin in that direction when he shoots one last glance at the aforementioned bank, and his body freezes in its motion. 

An elderly lady stands outside the bank windows, head whirling weakly back and forth as she watches passersby run past her, blinking in a confused daze. Her grip on her walking stick is shaky and unstable, and it causes her entire body to lean unhelpfully on one side. She wears a desperate expression, like she wants to run with the crowd to safety, but she physically can't. Seungmin knows it's only a matter of time before the bank robbers race out and more gunshots are fired at random, and the lady seems to know it too, for her lips wobble shakily and she clenches her eyes shut in dread.

Seungmin feels a hand tugging on his wrist, shouting at him to run. He vaguely registers the desperation in Jeongin’s voice, but he can't turn away from the lady across the street. People continue to rush past her, and she stands helpless as she awaits her fate.

“...Seungmin!” Jeongin screams, and it’s the sheer shrill that sends Seungmin into motion, not out of the chaos like Jeongin had intended, but into the road.

Dodging cars is no easy feat, and they honk and shake their fists out their windows in fury as Seungmin leaps in front of them. He makes no attempt to offer any signs of apology or guilt, because stopping these cars gets him closer to the woman at the bank.

When a small clear path between cars and buses makes itself known, Seungmin sprints forward, jumping up onto the sidewalk and charging at the elderly lady. She manages to process him coming towards her, because she blinks at him helplessly and reaches her frail arms out with a shake. Seungmin immediately latches onto her, grabbing her forearms and motioning her away.

“Thank you, oh Lord, thank you.” She cries, her voice weak and crackly. She melts into Seungmin’s side, who holds her with all the strength he can muster.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He reassures, pulling her through the madness and havoc, “I’m going to take you to that shop there, do you see?” He points to a bodega a few shops down where the shopowner stands with one hand on the roller shutter and the other used to beckon passersby into the safety of his shop. Seungmin knows they won’t be able to outrun any sort of trouble in this commotion. He needs to get her to safety now. "They're going to keep you safe.”

“I’m scared!” She shouts out, her grip on Seungmin surprisingly tight. It causes Seungmin to wince as they finally make it to the entrance of the bodega. The shopowner immediately takes the woman by the arm, pulling her inside with gentle but urgent haste. She spins on her heels and turns back to Seungmin with wide eyes, a shine of hope glistening inside that Seungmin will join her. Seungmin feels his gut clench.

“I have to find my friend,” He states, amazing himself at the stable state of his own voice, and the woman's eyes begin to water instantly. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, and then turns to the shopowner and shoots him a sharp nod. The man nods back dutifully, and the hand holding the roller shutter comes down and seals the store shut with a loud thud.

The world seems to pause for a moment, and then Seungmin releases the lengthy exhale he had been unaware he was holding.

Now to find Jeongin.

In hindsight, it might not have been the best idea to leave his best friend alone during mass hysteria over an armed robbery, but to Jeongin’s credit, he was much more capable than a stranded little old lady.

Seungmin’s chest rose and fell as he panted frantically, head snapping around the street as he searched for any sign of that obnoxiously bold orange head of hair. He furrows his brows upon realising the street is almost deserted, and then as he twists around in search of any sign of civilisation, he is met with the barrel of a gun staring him down. His breath catches violently, and his entire body freezes.

The robber holds the gun vigilantly, his eyes two narrow slits bordered by the protection of a black ski mask, and time stops.

“Move.” The man orders, a sick, disgusting growl in the baritone of his voice. Seungmin should move–needs to move, but he can't. He’s frozen down to his feet and solidified to the ground, forever staring at the gun between his eyes like it’s the last thing he’ll ever see.

“I said move.” The robber juts his gun closer, the click of the safety disengaging drumming in his brain. Seungmin wants to move so badly it hurts, but his limbs remain as pliant as the day he was born.

It’s sort of familiar, the concept of knowing you’re about to die. It’s the same feeling as when you’re gruelling away at work, feeling your feet numb from strain beneath you, or when you’re up far too late at night writing an essay and your brain loses its ability to produce coherent words. It’s the feeling of your soul slowly slipping away.

This is it, he thinks to himself, and although his heart beats with the hunger of someone starving to live, his brain soothes his aches and reduces his pains so he can go out with as little trouble as possible. He closes his eyes.

Seungmin foolishly expects the blow to be painless. Expects the sensation to be nothing more than numbing and soon after deadening.

The sensation never comes.

Instead, a gust of air shoots past Seungmin’s face and a grunt of winded pain escapes the robber before him. Seungmin flinches, and his eyes snap open with a gasp.

It all happened so quickly that Seungmin's mind reeled to catch up. At one moment, the robber was on the ground, seemingly knocked down by an invisible force, and then a figure descended from the skyline, swooping down in one smooth motion and landing a few feet away from the man writhing on the concrete. Seungmin’s eyes widened in elated shock, finally sensing his fingers and toes spark with feeling once again.

The strager before him is undeniable. The strong flex of his muscles underneath a solid paint of deep red can only be displayed so definitely by one, prominent being. 

Spiderman.

The hero rises from his stretched out landing position, emerging like an angel amongst the rubble. He carefully stalks closer, masked eyes locked onto the robber croaking weakly on the ground. The criminal becomes conscious of Spiderman's approaching figure, because he shoots off the ground with a sharp groan of pain and readies his fists, It becomes clear to the robber in that instant that his gun has been knocked out of his hands and thrown to the floor, because he curses quietly under his breath and grounds his fighting stance.

Spiderman huffs out a laugh. “Seriously? What type of pose is that?” He stops just before the criminal, and unlike the stiff and rigid robber, Spiderman crosses his arms across his chest and leans onto one leg like he's holding a slightly bothersome conversation with a coworker rather than the beginning of a potentially destructive fight.

The robber falters in his response, deepening his stance. “Don’t come any closer. I know karate.”

Even through Spiderman’s mask, his bemusement is evident. Almost animatedly, he scoffs and throws his head over his shoulder in exasperation. Seungmin thinks he must have to exaggerate his motions to get any emotion across under that suit– And the entire concept of such a thing is almost enough for Seungmin to find some hilarity in the situation. Spiderman is taking the time and effort to make sure you know he’s irritated with you.

“Yeah, I can tell from the deep lunge you have going on.” Spiderman mused, and the robber flinches briefly. He resembles nothing of the man who confidently held a gun to Seungmin's head moments ago.

Wait.

What is Seungmin still doing here?

He’s standing there like a blubbering fish out of water when he should be running. 

Spiderman seems to share the sentiment. He spares Seungmin a brief questioning glance.

“Hi. You should probably run. This might get messy.” Spiderman advises, and Seungmin doesn't need to be told twice.

He spins on his heels and begins sprinting back down the street, in the direction where he had left Jeongin. All he has to do is make it around the corner and then he can safely pull out his phone and call his friend and figure out where the hell he is. Vaguely, Seungmin can register the faint reverb of sirens accumulating a couple blocks down.

But it’s just as he passes the now desolate bank that he hears a crunch of glass and a scuffle of footsteps, and throwing a glance over his shoulder, he spots a second robber emerge from the broken window; Gun in hand.

Ah shit.

The gun is pointed directly at the fight occurring between Spiderman and the first robber. Spiderman dances around the man's attacks with a calculated ease, landing impactful blows on his sides that have the robber reeling away in pain. He’s efficiently taking down the man, but not fast enough. He’s too busy making a show out of it, playing with his food, to realise the true danger lies only 60ft away.

The second robber holds his gun high with vexation, waiting for the perfect moment to shoot Spiderman in the back.

Shit, shit, shit.

He hasn't noticed Seungmin, and Seungmin hasn't noticed he himself had paused. The sirens are drawing near, but they still sound too faint, too far away. They won’t get here in time to stop the second robber. They won't get here in time to save Spiderman. He’s going to die.

Ah, fuck it.

Overcome with foolish abandon and an intense build up of misplaced adrenaline, Seungmin pounces. He darts forward at such a speed that the second robber has no time to detect Seungmin's swiftly approaching footsteps. Seungmin throws the entirety of his body weight into the back of this man and sends them both flying to the ground with an impact heavy enough to elicit a cloud of dust. The man’s head hits the floor with a sharp recoil and he immediately loses his grip on his gun. Seungmin makes quick work of tossing the gun to the side, out of reach of the man below him, but it’s that momentary distraction that allows the robber to flip them over, landing on top of Seungmin and pinning his arms to the ground. “You fucking bitch!” The man screams. 

Seungmin yelps at the distinct press of gravel and rocks seeping into his skin, sure to leave small, red imprints later. The man above him is visibly filled with anger, peeling his hand off Seungmin’s arm to clench it into a fist and bring it down upon Seungmin’s face.

The fist comes down and Seungmin, somehow, by the grace of all and any god out there, manages to swerve his head to the side at the last minute. His hand clashes against the pavement, and it ricochets up his entire arm and drills into his head. It forces a strangled yell of pain, and weakens his body just enough for Seungmin to push back against him.

He forces the man off, but Seungmin doesn't get too far, because the robber immediately crawls after him, hand and face burning with red hot anger. Seungmin finds himself scuffling backwards, breath catching with panic and exhaustion, unsure how he was going to escape this new situation he has stupidly created for himself. Screw his self-sacrificing tendencies. Screw the moment of peace right before he was sure he was going to die. He cannot be beaten to death on the Manhattan sidewalk. Jeongin would make fun of him well into the afterlife and Changbin would have nobody to share rent with.

As the robber drew near, Seungmin prepared himself for another round of tussling and flipping around on the dirty pavement. He was not going down without a fight.

But in a flash, a long, pristine line of thin web shoots out in front of Seungmin and latches itself onto the robber. There's a small, almost comical beat where they both pause their violence to stare dumbly down at the webbing attached to his chest, and then something tugs on the line and the robber is sent flying back down the street, yelling out frantically as he’s dragged roughly against the pavement. Seungmin watches with a parted mouth and heaving chest as Spiderman spins the robber around like a whirling tornado, and as he spins to a stop, it becomes visible that he’s now wrapped in the rope like webbing, limbs pinned tightly together and movement restricted.

Spiderman pushes him to the ground, where he is joined by the first robber, also bound and restrained in the white web. The two men are disoriented out of their wits, incredibly pale and drained of all fight as they stare up at the sky from where they lay with swirling eyes and bated breath.

Spiderman’s head snaps to Seungmin sprawled out on the ground, and he briskly jogs over.

“Didn’t I tell you to run?” Spiderman shouts in frustration, standing above Seungmin with his hands planted firmly on his hips. “Fighting a bad guy is literally the opposite of running.”

Seungmin gapes up at the hero, finding his mouth opening and closing inanely as he musters the strength to find his voice again.

“The gun.” Seungmin finally states, albeit with a little shake in his voice. “He had a gun. He was going to kill you.” With a weak raise of his hand, Seungmin points beyond Spiderman and to the side of the sidewalk where he had thrown the robber's gun. Spiderman follows the direction of Seungmin’s gaze, and Seungmin can distinguish the exact moment Spiderman clocks the hidden weapon, because his entire body drops and his hands fall limp on his sides.

“Oh.” Is what he says, staring into the dark corner.

Seungmin swallows the build up of saliva that had formed from his mouth hanging open. Reluctantly, he pushes himself to his knees and forces himself upright, wobbling only slightly as his balance fails him momentarily.

Spiderman turns back around, and it truly is a wonder how he can remain so expressive while being completely masked, because his entire demeanor has softened and he approaches Seungmin with a more justified grace as he speaks.

“Um. Thank you.” Spiderman says, suddenly a little awkward in his attitude. Seungmin can tell he feels a bit embarrassed for snapping at him after he had probably saved his life. “Yeah, I definitely would have been toast if he had killed me.” Then, he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. It’s such a humane action, one that feels odd to see a superhero do after taking down two bad guys, and it allows Seungmin to relax a bit. “Well, obviously I would have been toast. I would have been dead. That– That was stupid of me to say. Ha.”

Oh God, why is this so awkward? In the past year and a bit that Spiderman has been protecting New York City, he has been documented to be charismatic, confident and charming. Initially, when Seungmin would flick the TV channel to a short interview or hear gossip of brief interactions with the superhero in passing, he had believed it. Every bystander could share the same sentiment, Spiderman was the charming, crime-stopping hero the city needed.

But now? His utter awkwardness was radiating so abundantly it was infecting Seungmin too.

“No, no. Thank you for your service– As um… New York City’s superhero? You do more than the cops, anyway.” Seungmin breathes, suddenly way too aware of his own body and his posture. Is he standing weirdly? His limbs feel really stiff. Can Spiderman see him standing weirdly? Maybe he should change his stance.

As if responding to the insult, the sirens reach a peak and a multitude of cop cars zoom around the corner, their red and blue alarm lights rotating in a bright flicker across the neighbouring buildings. Better late than never, the police have finally arrived.

Spiderman visibility tenses beside him.

“Ah, that's my cue to leave. The police and I aren't on great terms.” He chuckles, taking a few steps backwards. 

“If you could point them in the direction of those bad guys, that would be great.” Spiderman glances around for a moment before locking on to a tall building. He thrusts his palm upwards and a long string of web ejects itself up into the air and latches onto the rooftop. With one final look, Spiderman waves with his free hand. “See you around!”

Spiderman tugs on the web and is sent zooming through the air, approaching the building's rooftop with such speed that he flips over the top and lands with that signature pose of his.

Seungmin has no time to watch Spiderman slip away into the skyline before the police are summering out of their vehicles and racing towards the scene of the crime. Men and women alike clad in deep navy uniforms and weaponry holstered around their waists begin barking instructions, spreading out across the street and arming themselves in defense.

A man jogs up to Seungmin. “Have you seen the offenders?” He questions, tone strict and baring. With a silent point, Seungmin leads the police up the street where the two robbers lay limp on the ground, bound in webbed chains. As they storm past him, Seungmin can vaguely make out the hushed grumble of a woman sneering, “Damned Spiderman.”

Seungmin is easily forgotten as the perpetrators are brought to their feet and the bank is infiltrated for any lingering witnesses. With wobbly legs and a restless heart, Seungmin  slowly drifts down the street.

In a daze, he manages to register the dull buzz of his phone in his pocket and pull it out to press it to his ear.

“Seungmin?! Oh my God, what the hell is wrong with you! I’m going to kill you! Wait- You’re not hurt, right?” Jeongin’s voice screeches through the speaker.

Seungmin’s computer screen was a cold flash of blue light upon his face. Bright and unforgiving, Seungmin has to squint as his eyes scan the text on the screen.

The events of earlier today had left Seungmin understandably frazzled, because although crime and danger isn't completely unusual in a day in New York City, being held at gunpoint and saved by the Spiderman is.

The superhero had popped up in January of last year, seemingly out of thin air. It was just as the police force was overpowered with the sudden influx of crime rates and the civilians feared going outside too late at night that a man draped in red and blue and branded by a slim, black spider on its front appeared from the sky and skillfully brought down any person who tried to stand in his way.

People had feared he was some villain of sorts. New York City hadn't had the best run with protection in the past couple of years and the idea of a hero who swore to protect the city seemed too idyllic to be true. Then, after the mysterious saviour had successfully rescued multiple citizens from otherwise deadly events, he had been coined a vigilante. Hero to the people, enemy to the cops.

But many months have passed, and officially dubbed Spiderman, the hero was no longer met with hesitance or fear. Now, he was welcomed with warm, cherishing arms wherever he flung himself, and even garnered a well endowed fanbase.

Seungmin was not a part of that fanbase; He never had been. He held respect for the hero, but had never sought out his appearances or interviews. He was far too busy with the demands of his own drawling life to keep up with the fantasy of meeting a real life superhero.

But after truly seeing the man in action… Well, Seungmin could understand the appeal.

Obviously, anybody would be drawn up by the fact that they had been saved by Spiderman. He had successfully turned himself into a legend and a pop-culture icon. They sold his merchandise. They made fanart of him. Hundreds of forums deciphering his latest escapades or fights popped up when you searched his name online.

So it was only natural Seungmin had spent the better half of the night searching through them.

Seungmin chewed on his lip as he scrolled down the page: A tacky eyesore of a website decorated with a red backdrop and blue text, littered with stickers of Spiderman and various fanarts. Photos of the hero in action were defined by small boxes of text detailing what had taken place in the moment of the photograph. Adventures ranged from something as humble as Spiderman saving a cat from a tree or Spiderman helping a little old lady cross the road to Spiderman preventing a major car crash massacre with his bare hands or Spiderman saves multiple falling victims from building fire. The extent of his feats were exceedingly impressive, and the success rate was far more than their police department had seen in decades.

It still comes as a surprise to Seungmin just how much distaste the police hold for Spiderman. It’s not quite clear to the public, but if he had to guess, it was a matter of ego. The city isn't doing well and isn't feeling protected by their police force, and then this powerful figure in a skintight suit and sticky hands sweeps through the city and gains the trust of the entire city in just a year, it has to be a blow to the entire department's pride. 

It's incredibly stupid, but it's the most legitimate theory Seungmin could muster. Perhaps if the two sides joined forces, New York City would be rid of crime forever.

But that was just fantastical. More unrealistic than a man with powers resembling a spider.

A video appears on Seungmin’s screen, and the thumbnail of a microphone being shoved in Spiderman's face after what seems like a dirty battle is intriguing enough for him to click play.

“Spiderman, Spiderman!” The interviewer calls. Her voice is hoarse from behind the camera, from what may have been a particularly strenuous battle to be witness to. Spiderman is covered head to toe in dirt, suit ripped at the seams and blood staining through the fabric around his limbs.

Glancing to the date the video was published, Seungmin could assume this was the date Spiderman saved an entire bridge of cars from derailing off the Manhattan Bridge. It had been a horrifying night for the entirety of the city, and Seungmin remembers sitting anxiously with Changbin and Chan at home on the couch, eyes glued to the live news reports on the TV.

Spiderman trails over towards the camera, a faint limp in his step. His breathing is ragged and prominent with exhaustion, but the interviewer bears no mind to it.

“Hello.” Spiderman coughs. Seungmin’s eyes narrow to the visible tensing of his stomach through that incredibly tight suit. Seungmin looks away.

“Spiderman, what you did tonight was incredible!” The interviewer gushes.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“Oh, ever the humble one. Honestly, the way you have upgraded from petty street theft to disastrous, city wide events is undeniably commendable!”

“That means a lot.” Spiderman replies, his voice impossibly genuine, “but my job is to protect all of New York City– Whether that be petty street theft or city wide events. I want all of New York City to feel safe under my care.”

Ah, so there's the renowned charm everybody speaks of.

The interviewer praises the hero once again and the clip comes to an end. 

Seungmin thumbs at his bottom lip, humming considerably. 

After continuing to meander through various fanpages and websites, the door to his roommate's bedroom down the hall slams open, and Seungmin practically jumps off his chair in surprise.

“Kim Seungmin!” Changbin bellows, stomping his way into their living area where Seungmin is situated on their shared computer. Seungmin gulps as the man draws near, his face contorted in anger.

“When I ask you how was your day, and you say, ‘Oh- It was fine,’ I am expecting you to have maybe seen a pigeon steal a sandwich out of somebody's hand or just made it for your morning train. What I don't expect is for you to be an accomplice in stopping a bank robbery!”

Seungmin winces. “Did Jeongin tell you about that?”

Changbin stammers. “Did Jeongin- No! Jeongin didn't tell me about that. I had to find out through the news!” He throws his hands in the air, clearly exasperated.

Seungmin groans viciously and lets his head slam against the desk. The last thing he needed was everybody seeing him held at gunpoint and tustling on the streets. He hadn't even realised anybody was nearby. He probably made a fool of himself lunging onto that crook's back.

“‘Civilain and Spiderman work together to stop armed robbery.’ I’m looking at this random guy and wondering who is crazy enough to throw themselves into a situation like that, and then the camera zooms in and I realise, oh! It’s my roommate and bestfriend Seungmin who is crazy enough to throw himself into danger like that! Seungmin, are you insane?!”

“I know, I know!” Seungmin’s groans are muffled against the desk, but Changbin ignores him all together.

“He had a gun! What did you have? Nothing! Just your idiotic brain and your big fucking hands.”

“I got the gun away from him.”

“I saw, which by the way, had me peeing my pants a little as I watched.”

“Then what are we even talking about?” Seungmin drawls, pushing himself off the desk. “I’m fine. Spiderman saved the day once again and I walked away aye okay.”

“It’s not about being fine, Seungmin!” Changbin whines, and drops to his knees to be level with Seungmin in his chair. His hand clasps Seungmin's own. “It’s about you not telling me! You… You could have died today. You could have died and I wouldn't have known until I saw it on the TV. That’s scary, Seungmin. I was scared.”

Seungmin feels the unrelenting bites of guilt nip at him as he gazes down at Changbin, who holds him so tightly as though he's afraid Seungmin will slip out beneath him. Seungmin had thought bleeding out on the side of the road would be a pretty shit way to go, but he had never considered his friends having to trudge down that street every day, kicking the ghost of his body as they walked through. His throat tightens.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you.” He whispers.

“You should have.” Changbin sniffs, and then he's pulling Seungmin down into a tight, deathly compression of a hug. It squeezes a yelp out of Seungmin, although he is quick to wrap his arms around the other in response. “But I don't care. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Seungmin tucks his head into the crook of Changbin’s neck, seeking the familiar comfort. Changbin has always had the ability to provide the warmest of embraces, no matter the person requiring or the situation presented. It’s a trait that had drawn Seungmin to him all those years ago on the day of their orientation, and which had later led to them moving in together.

They stay like that for a moment, and then Changbin is pulling away. “Come and help me make dinner,” He demands, the remnants of tears still glossing his eyes, “we can make kimchi jjigae as a celebration of you making it another day.”

Seungmin barks a laugh at that, allowing Changbin to pull him out of his chair and towards the kitchen. The computer screen remains buzzing with light, although long forgotten.

The remainder of the week breezes past without any unnecessary hiccups. Gratefully, Seungmin had no more guns pulled on him or robbers to wrestle, and so any underlying anxiety that had remained deep within his body in the aftermath had fizzled to a lull hum. When you live in such a bustling city and are scraping to make ends meet, relaying such events will only slow you down.

The tie adorning his neck was ever so slightly too tight, and the coarse fabric itched at his skin in a way that had him readjusting every so often. After the fifth or sixth shuffle, Jeongin sighs and grabs ahold of the tie himself, adjusting the length of it.

“Formal looks entirely out of place on you.” Jeongin comments, humming quietly as he loosens Seungmin’s tie. The other boy is in a similar uniform, a form fitting dress shirt blanketed by a dark suit and tie. Their looser dress pants are akin to their top halves, and they both sport brown formal shoes. Not a single clothing item on their bodies costs more than a combined hundred or so dollars, and that's after they scrape together their pennies and quarters under sofa pillows and in old money jars to buy new shoes after they outgrew their old ones.

They look presentable, although Jeongin’s bright orange hair diminishes any hopes for professionalism and Seungmin’s own hair is seemingly impossible to tame, for the two of them had been attacking it with a hairbrush for the last twenty minutes and yet it remains untouchable and wild.

“Speak for yourself. When’s the last time you’ve worn anything other than sweatpants?” Seungmin jabs, lifting his chin to give Jeongin more space to work with. The hands around his neck are anything but gentle and Seungmin scowls at the carelessness.

“Channie said this was a really serious event, so I mustered up the courage to part with them for the evening. I already feel out of my wits.” Jeongin pouts, and releases his grip on Seungmin's neckline. Seungmin rolls his shoulders, feeling the tie settle easier on his skin.

“I saw Changbin walk out with cufflinks.” He tells, recalling the absurd sight of his roommate stepping out of the apartment with a shiny pair of silver cufflinks on each sleeve.

Jeongin’s face drops. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“...maybe we’re underdressed.”

“No, we look fine!” Seungmin tries, brushing the nonexistent dust particles off his torso. “It’s just an art showcase, not the Met Gala. We’ll be fine.”

“Not just a showcase,” Jeongin grumbles as they finally wander towards the front doors of the convention building. “It's their annual showcase. The big one.”

“And we’re dressed appropriately. Just chill out, okay?”

The doors are pushed open, and the pair are instantly met with the cool shift of conditioned air. The convention hall is surprisingly dark, lit only by LED lights that illuminate the room to appear bioluminescent. Glowing designs and patterns paint the walls, trailing down the hall and looping around the corners of the building. The entire hall, Seungmin comes to realise, is an art piece itself.

The hall is crowded with groups of conversing people, wine chutes in their hands and smiles on their faces. They all appear in the same formal attire the invitations had insisted upon, and it does much to ease both Seungmin and Jeongin’s worries. A long, dimly lit bar resides in the corner of the hall, pumping out order after order, and skinny elevated tables are scattered across the hall.

Music plays faintly in the speakers above, an unfamiliar yet melodic tune that curls around Seungmin’s ears and dances around the hall.

“Woah. This is cool.” Jeongin mutters, eyes following the colorful lines along the walls.

“Yeah.” Seungmin agrees, nodding absentmindedly. He too is enraptured by the glowing designs. “Where do you think Chan and Changbin are?”

“Seungmin?” A voice questions, and the two boys twist their heads to spy Chan emerging from the crowd. He has a big, dopey grin plastered on his face and a half empty glass of wine hoisted in his hands. “Innie! Seungmin!”

“Hi, Chan.” Seungmin smiles and allows the man to pull him into a tight hug. It’s kind and brief, and then Chan is pulling Jeongin into their own welcoming embrace.

“I’m so glad you two could make it!” Chan beams, eyes darting between the two. “Wow, you really dressed up!”

Seungmin grins sheepishly, feeling his cheeks warm moderately.

“You too, man.” Jeongin responds, patting Chan approvingly on the shoulder. Chan shrugs him off playfully, shaking his head back and forth.

“Ah, I tried. Changbin has cufflinks on! That’s hard to beat. Have you seen him yet?” Both boys shake their heads. 

“He might be in the visual arts hall, I think I saw him go in there not too long ago.” Chan places his hands against Seungmin and Jeongin’s backs in a gentle attempt to coax them further into the hall, but Seungmin halts.

“But I want to see your stuff. Where’s all your music?” Seungmin pouts. Chan has this obscure, maternal way of bringing out the obnoxiously childish side of Seungmin that Seungmin just can’t keep contained. It’s almost instinctual to banish all guards he has ever put up around the older man and allow him to baby Seungmin dramatically.

Chan blinks owlishly, processing Seungmin’s demands, and then a slow, toothy grin spreads across his face, leaving Seungmin and Jeongin to shoot each other questioning glances. Wow, was Chan already drunk? They both seemed to wonder. It was barely 8PM.

“Oh, sweet Seungminnie,” Chan sings, and yes, he has to be drunk. Seungmin is preparing himself to slip his arm around Chan’s waist and drag him outside for air when Chan laughs. “You’re listening to it.”

He gestures his hands upwards and raises his eyes, and Seungmin and Jeongin follow his gaze to the speakers. The melodic music that draws throughout the room has perfectly incorporated itself with the overall vibe of the hall, so much so that it truly sounds diegetic rather than imposed noise. It’s composed to a carefully curated tune, and Seungmin hadn't questioned the use of such quality music in a professional setting.

But…

“You made this?!” Jeongin exclaims, his eyes unusually big. “Chan, this is great!”

It’s Chan’s turn to become bashful, hiding his face into his shoulder. He may not be drunk, but the man was certainly tipsy, for his ear revealed to be brushed with a soft pink hue. “Ah, thanks. Changbin’s music is in rotation here too, you’ll hear it eventually.”

“Congrats, Chan. You’re seriously a pro.” Seungmin bumps his shoulder with his own, and the two share a lighthearted chuckle.

“You’d think so, seeing how I spend all my time at the studio. Wanna go find Changbin?”

The three dance through the crowds, led by a grinning Chan who swivels his head occasionally to greet his acquaintances. Seungmin and Jeongin follow silently, offering short smiles to anybody they don’t recognise. The hall opens up to a spacious room with significantly more gracious lighting, highlighting each unique painting that hangs on the wall and each abstract sculpture which stands tall in the centers of the room. Each piece is scattered across the room to allow enough space to truly emphasise them for what they are; wonderfully crafted works of art.

The place is humming with the echoes of Chan’s music and faint chatter of keen observation linked with appreciation settling inside the room.

“There he is!” Chan calls, and heads towards a corner where Changbin resides with a small group of people Seungmin doesn't quite recognise; Except for Hyunjin, who amongst them, stands a whole head taller.

Changbin whips around and smiles broadly. The three men standing with him also turn their attention to the newcomers.

“Oh, great! You found them.” Changbin laughs and pulls Jeongin into a quick hug. He pulls apart to shoot Seungmin a look with a raised brow and a quirked lip. “You look nice. I left and you were dressed in pyjama pants.”

“I do own a suit, Changbin.” He hadn't until that afternoon, actually. He had remarkably outgrown his last suit and had spent all day desperately scavenging all department stores near his apartment with Jeongin to find one that would fit his frustratingly long legs. Changbin, of course, does not need to know that.

“But do you own cufflinks?” Changbin smoulders and sharply raises his arm to slowly pull down his suit’s sleeve. The sterling silver catches the overhead lights with a beautiful twinkle, and Seungmin rolls his eyes.

“Put those away. You’ll blind someone.”

“Ah, you’re right.” Changbin sighs wistfully, sliding his sleeve back down and dropping his arm.

“Changbin,” Chan slips himself into the interaction kindly, forcing Changbin to drop the dramatics, “are you going to introduce us to your friends?”

“Oh, right!” Changbin exclaims, and steps in line with the trio standing quietly behind him, observing the conversation at hand.

“Seungmin, Chan, Jeongin,” Changbin gestures to everyone respectively, “meet Felix,” the blonde boy with shoulder length hair and incredibly warm eyes smiles brightly, his nose scrunching in his efforts. “Jisung,” Changbin motions to the boy waiting beside him, who sports a small smile and raises his glass in acknowledgement. “And Hyunjin,” Hyunjin waves casually, grinning at Seungmin.

“Ah, Seungmin, you really don't talk about me at home?” 

“Obviously you don’t either.” Seungmin snaps back, although vague of any bite or malice.

Changbin's eyes widened in realisation. “Hold up, you two know each other?”

“We work together–Like, everyday.” Hyunjin answers, “I even met Chan a couple days ago.”

Chan nods, a knowing grin dancing on his face. “Is it still too late to ditch Seungmin?” Hyunjin boasts a cackle in response, and Seungmin just rolls his eyes once again, not bothering to fight in a losing battle.

“But… you don’t know Felix and Jisung, right?” Changbin questions, and Jeongin shakes his head.

“No, we don’t. It’s nice to meet you both.” He greets kindly.

“Nice to meet you guys too. Are you also art students?” Felix asks, his voice surprisingly deeper despite his soft features. His tone is smooth and rich, like an enchanting song, not to mention the familiar accent that curls around his vowels, similar to Chan’s. Seungmin makes a note to ask him about it later.

He shakes his head. “No, we’re both in Media Studies. In some schools it's considered an Arts subject I guess, but here it's Humanities.” 

“Oh, that’s really cool!” Jisung pipes up, his small mouth forming a round ‘O’ shape. “I’m a Communications major! Kinda similar ballpark.” Seungmin smiles, finding the animated expression a little cute.

“Jisung is the guy I was telling you about, Chan,” Changbin pulls Jisung forwards and wraps an arm around his shoulders, “The one who could help us out at the studio? He works on beats in his free time, and they’re really good.”

Jisung flushes an endearing shade of red, reaching all the way down his neck and past his collar. “Ah, that might be an exaggeration. But I’d love to swing by if you’re open to it.” He speaks shyly, eyes averted to the floor instead of Chan, and Chan visibly softens at the scene.

“Yeah, I’d love that! We could have a lot of fun.” He says, his approach to the sheepish boy soft spoken and warm. “Changbin has spoken a lot about you. Good stuff, obviously.” He adds, for good measure.

Jisung lifts his head and a blinding smile appears on his face. Changbin huffs out a laugh and pulls him in closer, nuzzling his fist into Jisung’s side playfully, who barks out a ticklish laugh. “Perfect! It’s about time.”

The seven of them continue around the room, pointing at specific, eye-catching artworks that have them pausing and guiding their absolute attention to the piece while remarking about its aesthetics and tilting their heads to stare sideways at more puzzling pieces.

Hyunjin’s art piece has quite the effect of immediately forcing everybody to stop in their tracks and simply look.

It’s a disturbing sight, at first glance. A masculine face in a cold, dark blue light that wails silently in a pained expression, his hands clutching at his cheeks. The tips of his fingers are painted in a deep red and the corners of his eyes are white with watery tears. Unlike the many colorful and vibrant paintings surrounding it which exudes light and comfort, Hyunjin's painting seemed to draw in the shadows that hid in the corners of the room, simultaneously bringing in those who find familiarity in the darkness.

And that’s a lot of people, it seems, for small groups seem to crowd around Hyunjin’s painting with unreadable expressions and tighter breaths before dispersing to the next piece, looking slightly more dazed than when they had arrived.

Seungmin included stares up at the painting, deciphering every wrinkle and crease in the man's blue skin with his eyes. Every line is purposeful, every color sinking just right into the canvas.

It’s hard to think the dork at his work who makes bad coffee puns to his customers and downs mountains of whipped cream each shift could create something so profound.

A body appears beside him. Seungmin doesn’t need to look away to know it’s Hyunjin. “Do you like it?” He asks, and despite the confident theatrics Hyunjin always seems to uphold, his voice holds a layer of vulnerability.

“I do.” Seungmin answers plainly, but truthfully. He knows Hyunjin doesn’t need an expanse of feedback on why his piece is spectacular, because that’s like explaining why the sky is blue. It just is, and Hyunjin is just incredibly talented.

From his peripheral vision, he can spot Hyunjin’s smile growing, and the boy emits a quiet chuckle.

“You’re a man of many words, Kim Seungmin.” Hyunjin taunts, however, completely devoid of any amusement or mockery. Instead, Hyunjin sounds softer than Seungmin’s ever heard him before. He’s satisfied with Seungmin’s answer, grounded in the genuine. 

They gaze up at the painting for a while longer, allowing the chatter behind them to fade into a fuzzy backdrop. 

Seungmin doesn’t know if the painting is personal to Hyunjin or if he’s just an extremely talented storyteller, but as he stares up he finds it doesn't really matter. As long as a story is being told, he supposes it doesn't matter who it comes from, just so long as it gets the proper recognition it deserves.

“Hey, you two!” A voice calls, and the pair glance over their shoulders to see the group piling out of the visual arts room and back into the hall. Chan is standing a few feet away, glass now lacking its sparkling clear liquid. “The dance students are about to perform and Jisung has a friend that’ll be on stage. You coming?”

Seungmin and Hyunjin follow close behind Chan as he leads them to join the rest of the group in an auditorium where velvet covered seats layer the floor below the stage and extend to overhead balconies hanging above. They managed to snag the middle of the third row and were able to have a clear, leveled view with the stage. Felix sat on one side of him, chatting away with Jeongin as they discuss what it’s like for Felix while studying Early Childhood Education, and Chan sits on the other side of Seungmin, indulging in a riveting conversation about his newest idea for a producer tag with Changbin and Jisung. Hyunjin sits on the far end, typing away at his phone as they wait for the show to start.

The sake of the performances are purely entertainment for wandering guests, but the dance students seem to have garnered a lot of buzz, as majority of the guests attending had waltzed into the auditorium to find a seat and enjoy the show. From where Seungmin sat, it appeared the entirety of the room had been filled.

The overhead lights dimmed and the room fell silent, and the performance began.

It was a beautiful arrangement to match the articulate and melodic movements of the dance students. They glided around the stage, which was lit in pale blues and muted whites, draped in ivory colored fabrics that flowed like water around their bodies and swung gracefully as they moved their limbs. It was bewitching, the way these fairytale-esque characters waltzed around the stage, moving to a melody that appeared to be deeply rooted in their bones.

The entire auditorium was completely silent, captivated by the performance which seemed to present as something otherworldly.

It’s as the dancers smoothly shift into a new formation that a man moves centre stage and Seungmin’s breath really holds.

The dancer was absurdly beautiful, and the circumstances of the performance only seemed to enhance that. Blanketed in delicate silk fabrics that expanded around his arms and legs but managed to wrap around his shapely form, the dancer moved with such precision and care it was as though he never learnt how to walk, only to dance. His hair was a pale blonde, bordering on cream colored, that shone angelically under the glowing stage lights. In fact, his entire form seemed to glow, taking on the appearance of a magical enchanter rather than a college student.

Seungmin stared with absurd concentration, fearing any energy wasted on breathing would distract him from the man on stage. If he used any of his brain power, he would have realised his mouth had fallen slightly agape, and his shoulders had tensed in the darkness.

In the midst of the performance, where the dancer had twirled on the spot like he moves through water and faced the audience once again, a miracle happened. He locks eyes with Seungmin, and Seungmin audibly gasps in whatever air had been hovering patiently below his unbreathing mouth, and Seungmin’s heart skyrockets.

It’s a brief capture of attention before the dancer is moving along with the formation and is floating to side stage, but it lasts just long enough to feel purposeful. Like he had seen Seungmin past the glaring stage lights and through the shadow of darkness cast upon the audience. Like he had seen Seungmin and had been distracted from his sole purpose of dancing for just a moment. Like he had seen Seungmin and looked upon him with something other than standard indifference.

Seungmin instantly felt giddy with the concept, his fingers buzzing against the seat's arms. It is strange to physically experience the manifestation of a crush settling in your body's system, and slightly offputting too. Seungmin was too old for schoolyard crushes. But this boy was too enchanting to push aside and forget.

“Did you see him?” Chan whispers lowly into Seungmin’s ear, causing him to jolt upwards in his seat in surprise. It does nothing to help the already erratic beating of Seungmin’s heart, and quickly he begins to stress that the heart palpitations are growing concerning.

“That boy with the white hair,” Chan continues, “that was Jisung’s friend. Lee Minho.”

Seungmin’s heart sings. Lee Minho. What a lovely name.

Chan slinks back into his chair quietly when Seungmin offers no response, eyes returning to the stage, and Seungmin too stares towards the performance which is cleverly swaying to a conclusion, but he does not pay attention. Can’t manage it–not until that bright haired boy returns to the stage for a final hurrah with the rest of his classmates and ends the performance in a dark silhouette on stage, lined by the hazy glow of the cool blue stage lights.

The crowd rises to their feet in an instant, clapping away and erupting in a thunder of cheers.

Seungmin stands and claps dutifully, biting his lip to prevent the foolish smile that threatens to slip. 

The thirty minute window that his boss would call his break–but Seungmin and Hyunjin lovingly refer to as their only chance at prison break–has never been more dire. 

After spending the entire afternoon telling customers that in fact, yes, cappuccinos are meant to be foamy and no, he doesn't know what just coffee is, you’ll need to specify, he’s utterly drained. It’s a long day of pretending their pastries are made fresh everyday and haven't been sitting in the cake fridge for over a week, and adhering to all sorts of odd and absurd requests that people have no right to be making at 8AM, before Hyunjin calls for Seungmin to take his break and Seungmin all but flees.

There isn't very far one can go when they need to clock back in at 1:30PM on the dot–no later or else a strike will be sent their way– and so Seungmin usually reserves himself to a an open and well lit alleyway right beside their cafe, a place where they keep their bins and cardboard and usually a hotspot for the smokers of the staff.

Seungmin tucks himself against a brick step that leads to a back door and practically deflates into it, his limbs and chest heaving with great exhaustion.

In one hand he holds a ham and cheese triangle sandwich courtesy of dear Changbin, who routinely prepares lunch for Seungmin before he leaves for his ‘before the sun rises’ morning gym trek, and in the other he mindlessly scrolls on his phone. It’s a peaceful yet dreadful thing, like being in the eye of the hurricane. Knowing you can relax for now but face the impending battle again very soon. Seungmin tries to make the most of these little moments of serenity.

His breaks usually pass without so much as a hiccup. Maybe a stray cat will saunter on by and Seungmin will rip off a piece of cheese and throw it for the cat to nibble on, or a passerby will pause and shout down the alleyway, asking if Seungmin has a lighter. All in all, his breaks are quiet, the much needed break from a gruellingly employed lifestyle.

But today appears to be much different.

It’s just as Seungmin has delved significantly into his sandwich and is considering very proficiently which bite should be his next, for eating something as plain as a sandwich can become a magical experience so long as he calculates every bite carefully, when a gust of wind that is unfortunately growing familiar to Seungmin swooshes past his face–Almost ripping the lunch out of his hand.

Seungmin blinks, and a figure is dropping down from the sky before him, dressed in that branded red and blue latex.

“Funny seeing you here.” Spiderman hums, and despite the concealing mask, Seungmin can feel the heavy stare of the man behind the suit.

Seungmin gazes up, sandwich forgotten, feeling stunned. “Outside my work?” He questions with a tilt of his head. It’s not like Spiderman would know where Seungmin works anyway, but he can’t help but point out the irony.

Spiderman’s head quips up to where the entrance of Empire Coffee can be seen if you crane your head a little, and then he faces Seungmin again.

“Oh. You work here?”

Seungmin nods.

“Cool. That’s cool.”

A silence falls upon the pair as they stare at each other, the conversation having fallen short. Seungmin isn't quite sure what to say to the superhero. He had figured they would never cross paths again, unless Seungmin found himself in imminent danger and in need of saving–which he didn't plan on happening again any time soon– yet here he found himself. Sitting on a step in an old alleyway while Spiderman lingered casually above him.

Spiderman leans to one side and Seungmin decides he’ll speak up if nobody else will.

“What are you doing here?”

Spiderman stops his insistent shifting. “I was on patrol and I saw you down here. Thought I’d check in on you.”

“Check in on me?”

“Well, I never truly asked how you were after that bank robbery– and I never really thanked you either.”

“Oh.” Seungmin hates the way his cheeks warm at a little bit of recognition. “Thank you. I’m okay, really. I didn’t even get a scratch.”

“I saw the video of you and that robber on the ground. You’ve got quite good reflexes.” The hero says, a lilt of amusement evident in his voice.

Seungmin huffs a laugh. “You watch a lot of the news?”

“Only when it’s about me.”  Spiderman quips. Seungmin allows a real laugh at that.

“No, but seriously,” Spiderman begins after a healthy, softer silence falls again, “it’s not every day the hero gets saved. It takes a lot of gut to throw yourself into a fight like that… so… thanks.” His admission is a little awkward, but it’s an endearing sort of oddness that Seungmin has very quickly gotten used to from their once off encounters.

Seungmin tilts his head down. “Anybody would do it for the superhero of New York City.”

He can hear Spiderman shuffle above him. “Thats the thing. I don't think they would.”

Seungmin glances up at that. Spiderman has moved closer, it's a strain of the neck to look up at him now. Spiderman is a marvel in his glory, his figure toned and painted in stretches of deep reds and bright blues. Seungmin had taken only a slight notice of their subtle height difference the day of the robbery, when Spiderman had barked at him to run. Seungmin was taller than the hero–if only by a couple inches–but yet, in this alleyway sitting on this step, Spiderman stands as tall as a god.

Spiderman slowly tilts his head to the side. Seungmin can still feel the pressure of a pair of eyes on him despite the hidden features when the hero speaks. “Are you a fan?”

Seungmin’s eyebrows raise a little. “Of you?” Despite his recent hobby of late night doomscrolling on all Spiderman related forums, he still would not consider himself a fan. Just… a casual consumer.

“Who else would you be a fan of?”

Seungmin hums. “I don’t know. Choi Dongwon is pretty cool.”

Spiderman snaps his head backwards in perplexity. “Who is that?”

“Baseballer.”

“Right,” Spiderman sighs, body flattening.

“Don’t you have people to be saving? Cats to catch when they fall out of trees?” Seungmin questions, his lips quirking in merriment. Teasing the hero is a bit fun, Seungmin is coming to realise. 

Spiderman laughs lightly. “Good to see you’re just fine then.” He steps away from Seungmin, and the air grows a little colder in the sunny alleyway. “I’ll let you get back to it then, don’t want to disturb your well deserved break time.”

Spiderman thrusts his splayed palm into the air and web shoots out, attaching to somewhere past their heads and above the building towering over them. Spiderman tugs a little on the web to secure it in place.

“Until next time.” He bits adieu, and then pulls harshly on the white threads and soars into the sky like a nimble rocket. Faintly, Seungmin can hear a fading ‘Stay out of trouble!’ echo from the rooftops.

Seungmin watches intently, sandwich limp in his hand.

A door bursts open behind him. “Hey dingus, your break is over- Holy shit, is that Spiderman?” Hyunjin gasps.

“Seriously, I am going to shoot my brains out.” Jeongin groans, flopping his entire upper half onto the wooden picnic bench carrying all of their study pamphlets and books. The younger boy is sprawled across their papers, soft whimpers of pained exhaustion escaping his muffled mouth. Seungmin feels equally as pathetic, staring down at the analysis sheets they've been assigned for the weekend with his hands ripping at his hair. Professor Park has been gruelling with the workload recently, because instead of working through tasks during designated class times, he assigns the work for after hours and indirectly prevents any of his students from having a social life.

Their Professor has been a dreadful man as of late, appearing to class late completely frazzled and snappy and leaving early only after assigning more work. Jeongin wants to know if he’s okay. Seungmin wants to murder him.

“I don’t get it. Why assign us three different texts to analyse by Monday?” Seungmin whispers, staring at his papers like a madman on the brink of insanity. Jeongin slumps further into the bench.

“Because Professor Park hates anybody more youthful and happy than him. There’s a reason why that man doesn't have children of his own.”

“I thought it was because his wife left him before he got the chance.” Seungmin states.

Jeongin raises his head to reveal a playful smirk, his shoulders jumping in mirth. “Hah. That was funny.”

“Thanks.” Seungmin grins. They were such simple creatures.

“What are you two smirking about?” A gruff of a voice calls, linked to a familiar Changbin waltzing across the yard with three others in tow. Seungmin registers Felix, Jisung, and, to his heart's sudden attention, Lee Minho. Seungmin straightens immediately.

It shouldn't be rare to cross paths, seeing as they attend the same college and acquire many mutual friends, but it was still a marvel to see Lee Minho stepping foot on the same ground Seungmin walks around on, rather than held high on a stage where he cannot be touched. His hair was still a heavenly shade of blonde which caught the glow of the afternoon light, and his soft round eyes watched indifferently as the group approached.

Seungmin prayed desperately then that he would not make a fool of himself in any form. He would keep his quips to himself and be the most attractive version he could be, which usually led him to fall silent all together, lest he risk saying something stupid.

Changbin braces his hands against the bench and leans forward. He eyes the papers littering the wood with disdain. “Jesus. What’s all this?”

“Analysis. Your professors don’t have you doing all of this?” Jeongin sighs, resting his chin against his palm. 

Changbin winces. “In moderation. I don’t get it thrown all at me at once.”

“I totally get it,” Felix drawls, plopping himself right beside Jeongin on the bench, whose eyes widen in surprise for only a brief moment before quickly shuffling over and allowing the other boy some room, who did not seem to mind either way. “I have a couple essays due by Monday. I want to fork my eyes out.”

Seungmin is shocked to hear such a delicate looking boy say something so morbid. Especially one aspiring towards becoming a kindergarten teacher.

“Communication’s not too bad in terms of workload.” Jisung adds, shoving himself next to Felix on the bench seat. It causes all three of them to forcibly sit shoulder to shoulder, and Jeongin almost falls off the other end of the seat as he tries to garner any sense of personal space. Clearly, Jisung and Felix do not care much for it.

“How about you join the rest of us out for lunch, then?” Changbin offers, leaning forward. “Take a break from the amount of trees you’re killing.” Felix visibly lights up at the idea and Jisung nods in agreement. From where Seungmin has pointedly not looked in the direction of, in case his eyes got stuck and he makes a complete fool of himself, Minho hums in agreeance beside Changbin. 

“No,” Jeongin shuts down instantly, shaking his head. “We have to finish this by the afternoon. We have no other time to do it this weekend.”

The boys frown and fall into a chorus of saddened boos. Seungmin's own stomach growls with want, and he definitely wouldn't have minded the little break from this onslaught of New Times Roman being actively burning into the inside of his eyelids, but he agrees with Jeongin. Their schedules are completely filled until Monday, they wouldn't have any other time to polish off the work, let alone complete it together.

Changbin whines. “Come on! One little break, Innie!”

“What have I said about calling me that?”

“You work so hard for such a young boy, just come for half an hour!” Felix pouts, eyes knitted downwards almost cartoonishly. Jeongin deadpans.

“You’re barely a year older than me.”

“Aw, I didn't know you were that young!” Han coos, and Jeongin sighs morbidly.

The four of them bicker back and forth, with Han, Changbin and Felix attempting to charm Jeongin into agreeing to their impulsive outing. Jeongin argues back ruefully, shaking his head in his best efforts to deny, deny, deny. The trio are equally as rueful in their attempts, compelled not to go down without a fight.

“Hi there.” A body slips down into the seat beside Seungmin, and for one brief moment, he had forgotten the dancer had even been hovering near him. Seungmin’s head whips around, maybe a little too swiftly, and gawks at the man.

Lee Minho sits beside him, smiling warmly as though Seungmin were a familiar face, rather than a complete stranger he happened to know through a friend of a friend. Seungmin can already feel that persistent heat rise to his neck, and wills it to not travel any further up.

“Hello.” Seungmin breathes, his voice maybe a little too airy, too revealing. Seungmin thanks God above that the other four are too busy sending rebuttals back and forth, for if they had witnessed Seungmin greet Minho like he was greeting an otherworldly being, they would burst into laughter in an instant. Seungmin would have found it funny too, if only it weren't him playing the fool.

Minho seems not to notice, or maybe he's used to that sort of reaction when he meets new people. Seungmin is sure he has not been the first to marvel at Minho's beauty. Instead, Minho’s smile only seems to stretch further.

“You’re Kim Seungmin, right? Jisung and Changbin have mentioned you.” Minho says, and Seungmin thinks he might go into anaphylactic shock at the mere sound of his name on the man’s tongue. Or have a heart attack. Something serious and emergency related.

Seungmin reminds himself to answer. “Yeah, I am. Lee Minho?” Minho nods in response. 

“I saw you dance. At the showcase.” Seungmin tells him, because he wants Minho to know that he had seen him in such a glorious moment, one he should be incredibly proud of. And also maybe because Seungmin wants to know if Minho had seen him, too.

Minho’s eyes shine with recognition. “I hope I didn't look silly on stage.” He jests, as bright as the sun. Seungmin feels shrouded in shadows in comparison to the bright man next to him, who seems to shine like a dazzling diamond among plain pieces of coal like Seungmin. “I didn't see you after the performance, though.”

Seungmin chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I had to leave because I had to start work early the next day. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. Everybody’s got to make a living.”

Seungmin hums in agreeance, allowing the conversation to fizzle to its natural end. He turns his head back to the bickering squad on the other side of the table, who are seemingly coming to a close in their arguing. Based on Jisung's small pout and Jeongin’s stern expression, the ladder is winning.

“It’s a shame you guys can't come with us, though.” Minho comments, drawing Seungmin back in. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?” The dancer asks, tilting his head to the side slowly in question. With a blink, Seungmin thinks he resembles a feline cat, whose tail swishes back and forth and eyes narrow as he smoothly yet subtly alludes to an answer.

Seungmin stares at him for a moment, before turning his head towards the others. They have concluded their argument, now resorting to tuning into Minho and Seungmin’s quiet conversation. Seungmin’s eyes latch onto Jeongin's.

“Do we need to finish this by tonight?”

Jeongin’s jaw drops. “Yes? We do?” He states in bewilderment and far too much attitude, clearly confused by the sudden change in Seungmin's priorities. Seungmin could say the assignments have downgraded in levels of importance, but he's been studying all day! A little break couldn't hurt anybody.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, we’ll stop bothering you.” Changbin resigns, throwing his arms up in defeat. Jisung and Felix slip out of their seats and Minho follows quietly. Seungmin is actively mourning the loss like a grieving mother. He wants to wrangle the dancer back down and tie him to the bench.

But then he reminds himself it's still just a little crush, nothing too serious.

The four of them fade away into the distance, wandering in the direction of the college's front gates, and Seungmin watches them go.

A clearing of the throat is what snaps him back to reality.

Jeongin stares at him, wildly unimpressed. When Seungmin says nothing but watches him with a confused expression, Jeonging raises a sharp brow.

“Seriously?” He questions.

“What?” Seungmin snaps back, but he knows. And he knows Jeongin knows he knows. The heat that had grown at his neck had well since risen to his ears and cheeks, revealing all he could not allow himself to say aloud.

“I really am hungry.” Seungmin presses, but it falls on dead ears. Jeongin rolls his eyes, returning his focus to his pamphlet.

“Hungry for something.” Jeongin murmurs, “practically foaming at the mouth.”

Seungmin manages to scrunch up a loose piece of paper and propel it at Jeongin’s head before the other boy can react, eliciting an audacious gasp.

It’s almost a month after Seungmin’s almost deadly encounter with those robbers that he finds himself in the eyes of danger once again.

It's not on purpose, obviously, and it's a very average afternoon when things go awry.

He had just begun his short walk to the train station after a morning shift. Earbuds shoved into his ears and hands stuffed into his pockets, Seungmin stared at the ground as he replayed each gruelling interaction held in his mind, scrunching his nose and twisting his face when he recalled a moment particularly degrading.

He hadn’t been paying attention, he knows that’s his fault. His mind was absently flicking through scenes of the day like a mental cinema and his earbuds were jammed so far up his ears he could feel the vibrations of his music in his brain. So when screams started erupting and people started running, Seungmin didn't notice. Didn’t notice until he was suddenly bumped in the shoulder by a man speeding past, and he finally lifted his head.

Cars had stopped. Not just stopped–like traffic was bad and vehicles were forced bumper to bumper– but they had been abandoned. Empty cars and buses littered the road as drivers began to evacuate their vehicles, keeping their bodies low to the ground as they ran. More pedestrians and civilians sprinted around Seungmin, and instantly, Seungmin found himself rooted in recognition.

Carefully, he pulled one earbud out. The energetic pop track he had randomly selected as he departed work had done wonders to drown out the real commotion happening beyond his ears, because as he dragged the bud away, the screams came into fruition.

This wasn’t just an armed robbery. This had people evacuating their cars, sprinting through the streets and not looking back. Hell, nobody was even whipping out their phones to record. Just running. What could have caused such mayhem?

Well, Seungmin wasn’t going to stick around and find out.

Ripping the other earbud out of his ear, Seungmin began to strategise. He could run the short journey to the train station, hop on his usual seven minute metro and be in the safety of his apartment in fifteen.

But whatever is causing this mass panic could cause the trains to go down, and then Seungmin would be stranded in the train station with everybody cowering together for safety. Glancing down at his phone, he certainly didn't have enough battery to keep Changbin updated if he did get stranded. 

Maybe… he could sprint back to his work. Hide under the counters or in the back rooms. At least they have the home phone where Seungmin could notify Changbin of his whereabouts.

A loud boom ricochets and bounces off the city buildings, invoking Seungmin to make a decision. He spins on his heels and begins racing back in the direction he had meandered from, dodging the upcoming crowds that seem to envelope him as they too run from danger.

It’s chaotic and it leaves Seungmin’s heart thumping desperately in his chest, willing him forward as he fights through the crowds. His work is just a couple streets down. He can make it.

It doesn't occur to Seungmin in the moment as to why everybody seemed to be running in the opposite direction. It doesn't occur to him when the periodic booms that echo through the city seem to grow louder and more frequent, and it really only occurs to him when the sunlight disappears, and instead the cast shadow of a sizable car begins descending from the sky, gravity dragging it down and impending upon Seungmin like a declaration of death.

Seungmin freezes, breath caught in his throat at the sight, and brings his arms over his face as he braces for impact.

Impact, be that as it may, does not come.

Instead, as Seungmin hesitantly peels his eyes open, panting into the open air and trembling with fear, he's met with the vision of that sizable car hovering just before his eyes, and Spiderman braced against it.

Seungmin gasps, a breath of shock, gratitude and relief intoxicating him all at once.

The car rests against Spiderman’s splayed palms, shifting and creaking with exhaustion as the hero holds it up. Spiderman grunts with ragged strain, his forearms and back tensing and quivering under the bold latex. His legs are positioned in a supportive lunge, and with a deep growl of effort, Spiderman dips and pushes up, sending the car flying across the street as though it weighed nothing more than a feather.

Seungmin stood frozen, hand darting to clutch the fabric on his chest, attempting to embrace his own fretting heart.

Spiderman slowly turns to face Seungmin, chest heaving perpetually. Seungmin wills himself  to not allow his eyes to dawdle on the movement.

“Are you sure you’re not a fan?” Spiderman begins, voice hoarse yet glowing with strained amusement that has Seungmin balking. “Because you seem to be needing my attention a lot recently.” In any other situation, it would have amazed Seungmin how despite the chaos and the imminent danger, the hero managed to remain playful.

But Seungmin just almost died. Again. For the second time in the last month. He cannot manage more than a choked up noise of utter perplexity and a fairly audible gulp of his own saliva build up.

A thunderous crash occurs down the street, and both men whip their heads towards the source. Passing through the buildings, only visible in flashes between the gaps and spaces, a creature lurks. With a roar, it pushes through the abandoned cars littered at his feet, and comes into clear view where the roads open up into an intersection.

A man–or maybe a monster, one with dark fur sprouting from its shrivelled skin and a long, black tail whipping around and slamming across the ground, causing pebbles to rattle against the floor and cars to shiver in its wake. A gross mutant of a human that grew from the ground at an astonishing size, easily reaching the height of some of the smaller buildings in the city. It bellowed, cars crunching under its feet. He was too far for Seungmin to truly decipher his features, but even from across multiple streets, Seungmin could tell this was not the usual villain disgracing their streets.

“Oh my God.” Seungmin breathed, staring at the monster as it moved further down the city. Spiderman audibly winces, stretching out his limbs.

“Get somewhere safe, I’ll find you later.” He orders, and then starts down the road before shooting off into the sky. Seungmin, driven by pure adrenaline and acute fear, wastes no time following his orders, bolting up the street and towards his work.

Shockingly, Seungmin makes it back to his work in under five minutes. It’s amazing what kind of determination the direct orders of a superhero and the fear of a monster can give you.

When he arrived, his boss had already taxi’d across the city to protect his precious property. He was just beginning to roll down the security door when Seungmin came to a panting halt in front of him, and frantically pulled him inside.

Seungmin helped by moving the expensive machinery his boss couldn't afford to replace to the back and waiting out the storm with the rest of the employees rostered on. A few customers remained in the building, also cowering behind tables and whispering quietly to one another, phones pulled out and news alerts lit on screens.

Seungmin crouched in the corner of their back room, staring at the ground as thoughts and questions through by his brain in a whirlwind of stress.

What was that thing? Seungmin had never seen anything like it–nobody had ever seen anything like it.

Sure, New York had seen its fair share of crime and villains, but Spiderman was the closest thing the city got to a real life comic book character; One with powers and otherworldly skills. What they didn't have was hybrid monsters with cat tails and fluffy fur. That wasn't real. That shouldn't exist.

And yet, Seungmin had seen it. The height of an average building and the size of Godzilla. His stomach curled.

After a long period of Seungmin silently contemplating the growing existential crisis, alerts had popped through all their phones with a chime of a bell, notifying all that the unnamed monster had supposedly disappeared and it was safe to return outside.

His boss had sprung up immediately, eager to get back into business.

Seungmin had been ordered to open up the doors, much to his own deep, deep, dismay.

Gripping onto the security roller door, Seungmin half expected that when he pulled it up, he would be greeted with a gruesomely furry face and a ginormous fist sending him flying against the coffee bench, where he would die in the place he had always joked would kill him.

However, when he raised the security door above his head, he was not met with the horrid monster that had just stalked the city's streets.

No. He was met with Spiderman dropping down right in front of his face.

“Shit!” Seungmin yelped, jumping back in fear. 

“Sorry, sorry! Just me.” Spiderman instantly reassures, hands coming up in careful surrender. A shaky exhale escapes Seungmin, and his entire body deflates as his eyes fall shut in relief.

“You scared me.” Seungmin sighs, a well deserved whine slipping through. Then, he pauses. “What are you doing here?”

“I said I’d come find you. Make sure you weren't squashed to death by a flying car.” Spiderman shrugs cooly, leaning against the door frame.

“And how did you know I’d be at my work?” Seungmin questions, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I don't know if you’ve noticed, but you actually have this bright beacon above your head that attracts all the bad guys.” Spiderman states, making a show of imitating a beam shooting out of his own head. “It’s how I find you.”

This draws out a real, startled laugh out of Seungmin. His cheeks feel a bit sore from the unusual smile that falls upon his face, for Seungmin finds himself not used to smiling so widely. He covers his mouth subtly, hiding his grin.

“You’re quite funny for someone who just had to fight a freaky, furry monster.” Seungmin muses, and allows his eyes to dart down for just a moment.

And then he gasps, dropping his hand.

“Spiderman, you’re bleeding!” He exclaims, attention latched onto the thin gash that spreads across Spiderman's middle, sinking well past the suit and into his skin. It doesn't look too destructive, although any wound is at risk of becoming infected and that can lead to quite another story. Seungmin cringes.

“Oh, that?” Spiderman straightens, glancing down at his own wound like this was his first time hearing about it. “Ah. Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time.” He dismisses, covering the cut with his red, webbed hand.

Seungmin furrows his brows. He doesn't know what to do with his hands; whether he should reach out and offer help or fold them across his chest. They feel stiff and awkward at his sides. “Are you sure? You don’t need help?”

“Hey, I’ve been in this business for a while. A little cut is the least of my problems.”

Seungmin blinks at that, a wave of empathy washing over him. He looks at the man that stands before him, bold and marveled in his branded suit and boastful colors, and all he can see is the cut slashed across his stomach and the disorderly pattern of his breathing. Beneath that suit, a human remains, powers be damned.

Spiderman shuffles on his feet, victim to the sudden silence Seungmin has bestowed upon them. “What is it?” He questions, awkward discomfort creeping into his tone. For a marvellous superhero, he sure cracks under pressure. At least, around Seungmin that is.

Seungmin bites his lip, shaking his head and turning away. “I just… I guess I don’t know how you do it.”

Spiderman cocks his head to the side in Seungmin's peripheral. “Do what?”

Seungmin ponders for a moment, unsure what to say. He would hate to overstep any boundaries, ruin what little friendship he and the hero seem to be growing. But it’s a damning thing to wonder, to consider not only Spiderman's life as a hero, but his life as a boy, too.

Seungmin glances up. Spiderman is waiting patiently, so much that it makes Seungmin feel a little fond. “I don’t know how you risk your life almost everyday as Spiderman just to continue on like everything is fine once you take that mask off. Juggling both lives like that, it sounds so… exhausting. Like you’d never have a moment of peace.”

The silence is daunting. Spiderman doesn't speak, and to make matters worse, Seungmin has no clue what expression he’s holding behind that mask. He’s a figure of complete uncertainty at the moment, and Seungmin instantly wants to hide. Take his words back and finish it off with, ‘well, it doesn't matter what I think anyway!’ before scurrying away. Stupid Seungmin assuming stupid things and opening his stupid mouth. Jeongin taunts him in his ears.

Spiderman still hasn't spoken when Seungmin's boss calls his name, beckoning him to stop gossiping and get back to work. Seungmin isn't even clocked in, mind you, but he's more than grateful for the smooth getaway.

“Well!” He shouts, maybe a little too loudly to be considered easy going, “I need to get going. Maybe I’ll see you around. I'll probably see you around–You’re Spiderman, you’re going to be around, you know. Haha.” He wishes Spiderman would have let that car squash him like a bug.

Turning on his heels, Seungmin shuffles back into the cafe and heads straight for the backroom. The disappointment that blossoms when he returns to the front and sees Spiderman is nowhere to be found is pointedly shoved where the sun will never shine on it.