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moon-lixie · 2 years

Text

Because not everything was about want —the whole world could go down in flames despite nobody wanting that— and yet it was everything that mattered.

word count: 2.415k

genre: slice of life.

Envy the mouth, not the neck— envy it for its want and all it can make, envy its pride, envy its wake.

There’s a mouth on his neck, resting right where it feels like it's coming alive to make its own decisions. Like perhaps deciding that all of this is happening in the wrong way; the chills going down his spine don’t thrill him, they make him want to back away.

There’s the heat of a hungry mouth, the dampness of its willingness to take, the horrid feeling of its aliveness right at Hyujin’s pulse. No amount of wishing could make it go away, especially not when his neck stands rooted to his frozen body.

He feels stupid—every single time he trusts too soon he feels stupid. It’s got all to do with him, because he’s the one who trusted that tonight a mouth would bring him the calmness that a mouth has never brought him. He feels stupid because he trusted in the thing that had failed him time and time again.

But it’s his neck that protests as if being burned, it screams, this isn’t what I want, and Hyunjin isn’t a monster; in situations like these even his hands must listen. A no uttered in silence is still a refusal and his neck has been pronouncing those two letters for so long now that its voice has grown rough. So he pushes someone and then there’s no mouth on his neck.

Like his very own hands or his very own self that freeze and fear at the wrong times, only to come back alive when he’s required to stay still. Because it is even now that his feet glue themselves to the floor as if privy to information his scared and fractic heart would want to know, it is even now that half his body decides to betray him so willingly.

Instead of feeling like himself Hyunjin feels like little pieces of a bigger thing; here are his hands and his feet, he can feel his pulse and how he breathes, his eyes and lips—they’re all something his but not him. He wishes someone could piece him together.

He staggers down the stairs of this foreign house, acting drunk when stone cold sober because the poor lighting makes him feel lost. His fingertips trace the railing carefully; one more descent there with his body all in pieces and he might know this stairs better than he knows his own neck that now folds in over itself looking to hide.

All of a sudden the world is so full it might burst— with how many people stand in the living room and the entrance of the kitchen alone it wouldn't surprise Hyunjin if at least the house did. He feels like all eyes are on him, on his unlucky neck; it makes him feel disgusted with himself.

If Hyunjin could, he'd want to tell everyone there that this isn't what he wants, that the mouth on his neck was a confusion not a desire. Because Hyunjin isn't like that, the last thing he wants in this world are hands and mouths; but instead he has to leave everyone with the wrong impression.

Then it’s all empty when his feet reach the street, silent as if time had paused in the enigmatic in-between of night and day. It’s all in pause, all confused as he is, all untouched like his skin isn’t.

It’s perhaps the daydream of all of the wistful pieces of him, the desire to be forgotten and left behind.

What a silly thing to want, he thinks, but the truth is he would leave his limbs on the street if he knew it’d make them happier. He’d leave his neck to not be the one touched, he’d leave to not be the one forgotten, to not be the one withstanding this silence.

Silence so loud and real that it makes him feel like an illusion, just a mouth resting without purpose, a neck waiting to be attacked and unable to defend itself. He’s just a shadow on the empty street, and yet he feels watched.

As always, he feels judged; all of his rattling pieces almost become one under the heavy weight of the embarrassment of not wanting the things he should. As always, even when he’s alone, he feels like curling in on himself so that nobody gets a glimpse of him ever again.

And yet at the same time he wants someone to see him; he wants someone to look at his neck and then at him, not waste a second before telling him the mouth on his neck doesn’t show, and convince him once and for all that he’s more than the touch he doesn’t want.

His legs, thinking by themselves, begin running through the inhabited streetlights in a hurry— as if running fast enough would catch him up with those whose bodies felt like a whole. Not just necks and mouths but humans in the flesh.

The world turns blurry as he keeps going, just flashes of light, the stupor of his fragmented mind. For a minute he wonders if he’s broken so beyond repair that he’d begun slipping through the cracks of reality; he wonders when was the last time he felt like he belonged anywhere at all.

He’s losing himself but it matters very little when he can’t even feel his mouth or make out how it is that he looks after someone pushed their own desires onto him. It all matters very little when he can’t be questioned for the lack of knowledge he has on his own wants.

Even the OPEN 24 HOURS sign he ends up standing in front of matters very little, especially when he pushes through the doors of the convenience store convinced there’s no reason for him to be there.

But he’s met with a reason to stay almost immediately; said reason stands there with two different drinks in hand, a conflicted look on his face and a distinctive mole on one of his obnoxiously full cheeks. It makes Hyunjin wonder why he had to stop running right here.

Everything is washed over by a bright fluorescent gleam that almost hides the flash of recognition that passes through Jisung’s eyes once he looks up and towards Hyunjin, but he knows better than to think that Jisung of all people could simply forget the face of the boy who sat annoyed by his side during their growing years.

Jisung says that it’s a surprise to find Hyunjin there or perhaps he asks what he’s doing there when it’s barely the first hours of the a.m.; all Hyunjin can truly focus on is Jisung’s gaze on his neck.

Hyunjin curses the stupid mouth that touched him, the greedy mouth that thought it was clever to mark something it didn’t own. He wishes he could rub his hand along his neck and get rid of the reddening marks that make his skin feel as if it had been burnt.

If only he could, it’s always if only Hyunjin could, but if somehow he could he’d love to run away especially from this pair of eyes who knew him and now refused to look away from his marked shame. And if only he could, he'd want to ignore the something very akin to envy in Jisung's eyes— mainly because he thinks that if someone there had the right to feel envy it was him; he envies Jisung’s envy because it speaks of him wanting the things Hyunjin can’t.

The situation makes him feel enraged, especially the part where Jisung won’t look him in the eye but has no problem not looking away from his neck. If Jisung wanted a mark of his own so damn bad he would give him one right now, but the truth is he’d despise his mouth for even trying.

Suddenly he wants to scream, wants to break his lips apart to try and voice the heavy thing in his chest that had long ago evolved from unwelcomed to a part of who he was. He felt like putting an end to the guilt and longing Jisung’s face brought along.

But the problem wasn’t really Jisung’s face, it was who Jisung reminded him of, because every single time he looked back on his life he saw himself beside someone and then on a faraway corner stood Jisung ready to make his way to them. The important part has always been the other person.

And then it actually makes sense that he ended up there of all places because the person appearing from one of the aisles with Hyunjin’s favourite snack in hand isn’t just anybody. It’s the one he called his best friend, someone who he thought he’d be with for a lifetime and he was there with Jisung instead of him.

"Hyunjin?" The guy says and it's stupidly laughable how he sounds exactly the same after all this time, how Hyunjin can recall his entire life clearly just because of this one voice speaking his name.

"Hyunjin." And Seungmin is there in front of him, younger and in the middle of his room, wanting him more than Jisung because that’s just how things were when the world was right and Hyunjin was still just one thing.

“It’s not all about want, you can choose something even if you’re not sure you’ll want to settle for it in the future,” Seungmin had said, trying to help Hyunjin’s stupid eighteen year old self as he always did.

“It’s easy for you to say, you’re the one letting others plan your life for you. Not only because you don’t get to do something you actually want do I have to settle for less too,” Hyunjin had answered, because even back then he had trouble with his wants; even then did he shame himself for not knowing what he wanted and wanting things he’d deny.

Seungmin had stared at him as if his words hadn’t had any effect on him, but they both knew that they’d hurt because they were both the same, lost about the universally strong force of want, the only difference was that Seungmin had always been more mature.

And the words could’ve been forgiven if only not so much was at stake with them. They were talking about a decision that skipping on could cost them a year apart, which felt like an eternity capable of ripping them apart.

Things could’ve worked out fine, they wanted for things to turn out fine, but Hyunjin ran from the decisions that mattered even when he dived head first into the ones he shouldn’t have taken up for choosing. So when he stayed silent feeling his body shatter down Seungmin picked up and walked away.

That had all been back when the distance and time proved ruthless, back when Seungmin decided that Jisung was —had to be— enough for him because Hyunjin had made a completely different path for himself. It had all been before Hyunjin ended up forcing himself into a path that he wasn’t sure he did want, before he lamented himself for not doing so sooner so his friend and him would’ve never had to part.

Which is why it's ironic and somehow fitting that he's here right now with the two of them; his friend who he longed for every day and the guy he had envied since the first time he had crossed paths with him because Jisung was everything he’d never be.

"It's been a while," Seungmin says now that he's standing in front of him and beside Jisung. He’s looking Hyunjin in the eye and never has the latter wished to be seen more; when he said he wanted for someone to see him he had actually meant Seungmin.

All he wants is for Seungmin to look at him from head to toe, to take in all of his faults, marks and touches he had received and still want him in his life again. He wants Seungmin to recognise in his eyes that he’s lost like he’d never been before because he had become someone new in their time apart.

But Hyunjin had eyes too and he could see Seungmin wasn't the same either, that he was his hands and even his mouth because time had only made him feel surer of himself. Hyunjin envies him but he envies Jisung more, for having seen how Seungmin had turned into this.

"Well, it's getting late," Jisung slips into the silence, making no absolute sense because at this hour there’s no up or down, no late or early, no right or wrong.

There's only want, an insatiable and never-ending want that takes over Hyunjin's mouth and gives it purpose for the first time in too long.

"I still don't know what I want," Hyunjin says, deciding to ignore Jisung. Around them the silence suddenly bursts; they’re no longer stuck in an in-between as the soft hum of the refrigerators come to life and Seungmin’s restless fingers make the wrapper of the food he’s yet to buy rustle.

“I don’t know what I want to do so I’m just doing whatever I can.” Hyunjin knows it’s a little late to say this, he knows that his words won’t magically fix everything that’s been left broken far too long but he can’t stop himself from trying. “So I think I finally understand what you were trying to tell me back then. I simply needed to do something, it didn't really matter what.

It's not all about want and it sucks that it took me this long to figure it out.”

"It's not all about want," Seungmin repeats slowly under his breath and in that moment Hyunjin couldn’t care less about who was around or the marks stuck on his neck.

He could see they both wanted to fix things and that was enough for him, even if their want didn’t guarantee things would work out just fine. Because not everything was about want —the whole world could go down in flames despite nobody wanting that— and yet it was everything that mattered.

Hyunjin wanted and so did his hands; he wanted to be whole, didn’t want to be alone, wished he could go back in time, hoped he could fix things. And if nothing in this world assured him that things could work out that way, in the end he could at least say he’d wanted it.

#straykidsland #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin

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moon-lixie · 2 years

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Hii :) I was wondering if you have a masterlist for your stories?

Hello, I absolutely do. On the description of the blog there's a link that takes you to a post with all my masterlists and other info. But I'll drop them here too

hyung line masterlist maknae line masterlist

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moon-lixie · 2 years

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But it's his bed; he always reasons that if he could bring his bed with him he would go anywhere and never look back.

word count: 2.727k

warnings: implicit sexual content, brief discussion of death.

genre: slice of life.

song: FJK - ylang ylang (s l o w e d)

Behind his closed eyelids there's an entire world that exists only within the soft buzz reaching his ears. It isn’t quiet or forgiving, it is a whole hurricane that no human could ever learn to tame.

From the front seats of the car his parents speak; Seungmin hears his name here and there and focuses on keeping his eyes closed. He pretends to be asleep because that is what feels right.

He wants this trip to be over before it has the chance to properly begin, he wants to go home even when he's well aware that once he gets back he'll wish to be anywhere but there. It's amusing how eager he is to be outside his house and yet how much he craves to never leave at the same time. But it's his bed; he always reasons that if he could bring his bed with him he would go anywhere and never look back.

Oh what a man would do for a good night's sleep. Seungmin would hesitate very little before giving his soul away for it; if he could he would never sleep outside his own bed because he knows his chances of resting are higher there.

Apparently the man he was would not do enough for sleep; seeing as he’s on his way to sleep on the floor of his cousin’s bedroom for the upcoming two days. He wonders if he’ll ever be more, do more, defend his sleep and his soul down to the last second.

When he opens his eyes there’s green, vast green that extends far beyond his sight but there’s also grey and that is the place he stands at. The exhausted tires of the car keep going round and round over the grey pavement and there’s very little chance that Seungmin will ever get to stand on the green side, the greener side.

Oh what a man would do and how a man would lose his head. Oh what Seungmin would never do and what he will always crave.

His heart is beating on his throat the moment he opens his eyes, there’s sweat and the uncomfortable feeling of his shirt sticking to his skin. After blinking a couple of times he manages to wake up enough to make out the green glowy stars stuck to the ceiling; when he looks at his side he can make out the faint silhouette of Jisung fast asleep in bed.

Plenty of times he has fallen asleep in that room, every other family reunion that would always involve two hours of driving for either of them and would always end in parents sleeping in the spare room and Seungmin or Jisung getting acquainted with each other’s rooms yet again.

Plenty of times and yet not enough for Seungmin to feel at home; his own mind betrayed him by not wishing to play pretend and go along. The messily arranged sheets on the floor weren’t his bed and what he stared at wasn’t his ceiling, it was just a ceiling— perhaps it could also be called a sky.

Once again he looked at Jisung, forcing his eyes to adjust to the darkness and make out more of his cousin’s expression. Seungmin wondered about him just as much as he wondered about everyone else lately; he wished to understand what went on inside their heads and who they were beyond what one was able to witness on quick exchanges.

Seungmin craved a lot of things but more than anything he wanted to understand, understand himself and the world that never stopped around them. He wanted things to make sense under his own rules and wanted a chance to make it out alive through the process of growing old.

With a sigh he shuts his eyes close tightly and waits for sleep to take pity on him. On the inside of his eyelids he can see the outline of the stars glowing on Jisung’s pretend sky.

Should he put stars up in his room too? Could he make time stop and not grow as fast as he was growing? Could he ever make up for all the things he hadn’t had before? Would he ever feel something different than just emptiness?

There are no smiles on his parent’s faces and Seungmin can’t blame them, after all, he is the last child to go and he doesn’t think they’ll be happy in the silence and solitude of the house that had often haunted him. But they have each other to fend the loneliness off, at least that is what Seungmin keeps repeating himself inside his head.

He goes and takes the train that promises to lead him to adventure, but he can’t sleep on his way there and he surely won’t sleep when he arrives. Now he will live far from the place he always called home and he’s particularly upset about the fact that his bed has now become just another bed in his parent’s house. He feels like he no longer has a place for him in this world.

He’s not upset at the loss of a home because he knows he’ll eventually find a new one but he can’t help mourning the loss of his sleep and his soul. He doesn’t know what he is doing with his life or what exactly he pretends to do going forward but the world keeps pushing him to never stop moving so he sets his own body in motion and just goes.

Goes where the wind takes him and to the cheap mattress waiting for him in his equally cheap apartment he wouldn’t be able to afford without his parent’s help. He’s still a child despite all of his capabilities as an adult; he is a child and he is scared shitless.

There’s no use in pretending or repeating something out loud enough times to convince himself and make a fool out of him in front of everybody else; he doesn’t wish to be the kid that screams he is an adult and he’s got it all under control, especially because those are often the ones that have nothing under control.

There is no control, the walls around him probably need to be repainted and he knows he won’t ever be the one to do it, the bathroom needs to be scrubbed clean and Seungmin could never not put that at the top of his to-do list, the mattress under him needs to be replaced in order to become a bed— his bed.

It’s a back, an unknown yet familiar back whose owner seemed particularly careless when saying, “you can spend the night here, I really don’t mind either way.”

And he’s naked, worn down to the bone under the sheets he begins to question on their cleanness. But no amount of dirt or dust could make him run because he’s tired and inexperienced, he has no idea what he is supposed to do so he settles for staying and staring.

In front of him there is a back he just touched and that he hopes to forget in due time; there’s a bare back like a symbol of pleasure carried out in freedom. Seungmin regrets nothing but he knows he won’t wish to remember tonight because it was nothing special.

He wonders how many more backs and how many more beds he will get to know during his whole life, when will it ever stop and if it will ever stop to begin with. He wonders because his entire existence has passed in wonder, wanting, and never having.

He has no place, no bed, no back to be stared at because he’s always the one staring. Seungmin rushes in, always head first and with his heart in his hand —he wouldn’t want to do it otherwise— and he always, always, wonders about it further down the road.

When he reaches forward and touches that back he wonders why he does it, he wonders what is the human fascination with touching and forgoing anything else. But he touches nevertheless, first with just the fingertips and the curious patterns he will etch onto many more skins.

Then there is an awakening and a seductive smile, he touches with his entire palms and his entire body; he makes this bed his own and that back a memory of a collection of staring he will have to suffer through for the rest of his life.

The sun takes its time to greet them through the open window as if he were giving Seungmin enough time, enough to touch, stare, grip and leave before the sun can notice his absence in the bed that was only temporary his— never to be mentioned with that possessive noun ever again.

And he wonders; god, he wonders so much that sometimes his head begins to hurt. He wonders what his back looks like and if someone will ever touch it just with the fingertips in order to know it blind.

He wonders about wondering, about backs, beds, about life and death, wonders about whether they mean something or if he should finally stop wondering so hard.

There’s moments and places that feel endless; right now the hallway he walks through feels like it never stops, like it will keep going and going for as long as it takes for him to finally stop feeling utterly lost.

But everything comes to end, just like life itself, and so he reaches the room under the number 310 and he knows he needs to go in and meet the bed that will never be like his. This time around the thought bothers him just a bit less, because he couldn’t fathom feeling okay with enjoying his own bed tonight out of all nights.

He pushes the door closed right behind him, throws his luggage near the foot of the bed and goes around the room opening every cabinet and door that allows itself to be opened. He doesn't know what he’s looking for or if he’s looking for something to begin with; he probably just wants a distraction.

A hotel room is way too silent when one is meant to spend their time alone in it but so is the life of an adult that has no more kid left to spare inside of him, at least not enough to warrant being treated like one. He’s alone and he is supposed to shoulder his way throughout.

Which is the exact thought that has him feeling so lost and scared. He’s expected to make his way around life himself, to fix his own problems and be his own support —he’s been doing it for far longer than he probably should’ve— but there is no fixing or supporting yourself through death.

He lets himself fall over his back on the bed once he feels satisfied enough with the results of his exploring, his shoeless feet fall atop the pillows and his head barely misses the fancily arranged bed foot cover that would have digged uncomfortably on the back of his neck otherwise.

The window is right beside the empty space left on a bed made for two, its curtain had been drawn open by Seungmin himself a couple of minutes before and now it makes for the perfect view of a plane sky that has no stars in sight.

He remembers the weekend spent camping out with his parents, his sister, Jisung, and his grandfather. He wants to do them all over again but he knows the empty space left behind by the latest occurrence would hurt everyone deeply. Still, he wants to go back to those days and watch the stars.

For the first time ever he wants death to be reversible, something to fix or even solve. He wants his grandfather back but more than anything he wants the peace of not having to think about death at all, about not having to stand face to face with his own mortality once again.

The sky doesn’t waver at his distress, it stands frozen on the image of a saddened blue that has no imperfections in it—a pity since the imperfections of the sky are the prettiest freckles Seungmin has ever seen in his life.

He ends up closing his eyes at some point, losing sight of the sky, of death and its pain, of the bed that he wakes up to find terribly uncomfortable because his body doesn’t belong there.

He expects to be met with silence because silence is a given, a constant in his life that doesn’t bother him anymore but that he doesn’t find particularly pleasant either. So he is surprised when a voice makes itself known inside the room.

“No matter how many times I come back, the fact that this is no longer my room never stops feeling weird,” Jisung says and if Seungmin knew better he would say something back to him.

They’re both laying on the floor of a room that is technically Jisung’s room but looks nothing like it anymore; the only thing that remains the same are the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling because even the person beside him has changed.

Jisung is a man and Seungmin keeps looking at him and asking himself about the ins and outs of the other’s mind and complete existence. But he never reaches forward to ask or even try to figure out; he keeps Jisung tucked in the corner of his world where he keeps his family.

If he entertains the thought he knows for a fact that Jisung and him could’ve become close friends beyond being related by blood, but he always refused and kept him at arm's length, as a memory of a cheerful boy that manifested into reality every other summer. Seungmin wonders if that is something he could fix now, many years too late.

“I don’t know why they even kept those stars.” This time when Jisung speaks it feels like Seungmin has something to say for the very first time in his life.

“They kept them because with them they were keeping your essence inside this room,” Seungmin says, surprising even himself with the certainty that his words carried, but even more with how true they tasted on his tongue. Seungmin never knew he had answers in himself.

By his side Jisung stays silent for a contemplative second before puffing out a laugh, the kind that sounds tired and yet stupidly full of hope. “I guess I’m not the only one that misses those days then.”

And if only Jisung knew —perhaps he did know— everybody always missed, always ached, always wondered like they had nothing better to do with their lives. Everyone always craved for that something they couldn’t have and for the things they once held but could no longer grasp.

“What do you miss the most?” Seungmin finds himself asking. Two grown adults talking like how they were supposed to do when they were kids left alone in the same room.

“My bed,” Jisung answers without missing a beat, meaning it with every bone and breath inside his body. Seungmin could tell just by looking at his expression, even if obscured by the dark.

A bed he no longer had, just like how Seungmin had lost his own when he decided to make a life outside of the home that had been almost forcefully appointed to him. Beds, the sacred space capable of holding lives, backs, hearts and so much more.

The beds that —he suspected— both had felt like they would do anything for, because the men they were back when they were only kids would’ve given their lives for them. Now Seungmin had grown way too used to feeling foreign in any place he decided to rest at.

“Me too,” Seungmin muses back almost in a whisper.

His bed, the one that had been and could no longer be; if only he could pack it up and take it with him everywhere he went he knew he wouldn’t waste so much time wondering and looking back. But perhaps that was growing, facing the hurricane shaped world after stepping out of bed one day and knowing you would never come back.

For that he had no answer yet, maybe he never would, but that wouldn’t stop him from wondering about it.

#straykidsland #kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin

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moon-lixie · 2 years

Text

“What are heroes to you?” Jisung simply blurted out. This was no ‘what are we having for dinner?’ or ‘do you think this shirt will stain the rest of the clothes if I wash it with this load of laundry?’ This sounded way more like a big existential crisis in the middle of the living room.

“Well,” Minho began before tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brows; now he was the one thinking hard and long to reach an answer. “I think heroes are what we make of them.”

or, where Spiderman and Deadpool aka Jisung and Felix, team up to save the day and learn about what it means to be a hero along the way.

word count: 9.444k

warnings: depiction of violence, mentions of guns and injuries, sporadic mature language.

genre: action, Jisung!Spiderman, Felix!Deadpool

Another crappy day, another chance to crawl inside dirty vents and make it even worse. Because contrary to how they are portrayed on every other tv show and movie, vents are actually filthy; Jisung had learnt that the hard way since the Spiderman job entailed a lot of crawling through them.

They’re also awfully small even for someone like Jisung who isn’t exactly of a big build. To this day he can still remember the disappointment on that kid’s face who pointed at him with his finger and said ‘mommy, why is Spiderman so skinny?’ It was one of his biggest motivations on those days he didn’t feel like hitting the gym.

Back to the vent thing; he was on yet another one because of Dr. Yang Jeongin and his cryptic message that had only said ‘Help!!’. Jisung thought that if he had been in a real life and death situation he would’ve skipped the exclamation points, so Jisung wasn’t exactly in a rush to get there, he just wanted to get out of the vents or for the day to be over.

“How could you ask me to chill?! You’re about to kill me and this thing won’t work!” The scream resounded on every single one of the four metal walls of the vent. It was the characteristic high pitched screams of Dr. Yang.

Okay, maybe Jisung was wrong and Jeongin was having an actual emergency.

“Though day isn’t it?” Another voice came through as Jisung got closer to them, this one much more deeper and familiar.

Please don’t be him, please don’t be him, Jisung chanted inside his head because if that voice belonged to who he thought it did, it wouldn’t be the best of news. Granted, it wouldn’t be the end of the world either.

Jisung finally reached the door vent and pushed it open before peeking his head inside the room. Exactly how he suspected, a red mask —much like his very own— stared at him from the entrance of the lab bathed in pale blue light.

“Dr. Yang! I finally found you, where have you been?” Jisung mused in the most amicable tone he could muster. Of course this was how he would end his Friday; trying to convince his friend to not kill one of his acquaintances. How fun!

“Spiderman!” Jeongin exclaimed in clear relief. Okay, Jisung would make sure to think twice before letting the fact of him having a bad day mess with his efficiency and willingness to get places fast. He is human after all, he can make mistakes once in a while.

He lowered himself from the vent carefully and sighed as inaudibly as possible while making his way to the man standing on the door with a nonchalant pose and a gun in hand. Could his Friday get any better?

“F–” Jisung began before cutting himself off and trying to cover up his mistake quickly, “funny to find you here.” He can’t believe he almost said Felix’s name out loud; he doesn’t know how his friend goes about things but if someone were to shout for him by his name while he was wearing the suit— he doesn’t even want to think about what could happen.

“It’s nice to see you too.” Felix’s voice filled the room once again. Jisung could almost see his smile under the mask, all bright and freckled like his friend himself, all sweet and soothing much like his friend’s presence wasn't at the time.

“Tell me this isn’t a personal business,” Jisung said hushedly, almost like he was begging, not his friend but to the universe.

“No, not at all. This is a job I took.” Felix seemed to catch on and lowered his voice so only Jisung could properly hear it.

“That’s good, that’s great.” With yet another sigh Jisung outstretched his hand to pat his friend on the shoulder. “Today has been rough and you know I need to keep this man safe, so…”

“I get the message, I don’t want to hurt you either. Let’s just go, I can ditch the job,” Felix supplied while putting his gun away. Sweet and considerate Felix who also got paid to do some illegal stuff from time to time.

Jisung nodded once again and turned; having Felix be the perpetrator of the crime he needed to stop wasn’t that bad after all but it wasn’t good either. From the other side of the room Jeongin stared at both of them with an incredulous look on his face.

“My apologies for the inconvenience. We’ll be leaving now,” Jisung began saying, feeling more embarrassed than proud at the whole situation, “if it helps then whatever was loading on your computer is finally done.”

He watched as Jeongin gaped at him and then turned around to face the computer’s screen that had, in fact, finished loading something. Then he reached for Felix’s hand and pulled him out of there, trying his best to ignore the guards on the floor Felix had gotten to first on his way to the lab.

Jisung pressed his eyes shut as he kept walking and told himself he had done the best he could.

The sun was almost setting and the air was getting colder, especially on top of the high building. He sat at the edge of the roof, mask pulled off from his head and eyes trained on his friend’s troubled expression.

Felix’s blond hair was being played with by the wind, messily sprawled along the expanse of sky above the city. His expression had gone sour at the same time his fingers tightened against the hold he had on his red mask , just because of Jisung’s seven words.

‘Why do you keep doing this, Lix?’ Words of true concern and confusion, because Jisung couldn’t understand why Felix out of all people had chosen the path he had.

“It’s not as easy as you think, Sung.” Felix’s voice sounded stern, stern enough for Jisung to swallow down his rebuttal about things actually being that easy. He firmly believed that a person could wake up and choose to change, choose to do good.

“Not everyone can get away with only doing the so-called right thing,” the blond man kept going with bitterness wrapping all around his words and tightening around Jisung’s throat in the process.

“What do you mean?” Jisung asked and felt out of breath not for the first time today.

“The world doesn’t want someone nice and friendly to save them, they just want to feel protected. As long as someone is willing to play the part and feel compelled to think of the greater good then they can get away with the same things that make me a bad person.”

Felix threw his head back and inhaled deeply before adding, “that’s the difference between you and me, between a hero and whatever the hell I am.”

The words punched Jisung right in the gut and if it hadn't been for his phone suddenly ringing right then, he would’ve spiralled under the weight of Felix’s statement. Minho was calling him; his older friend always had the best timing.

“Hi,” Jisung said, keeping his comment short right after picking up; he wanted to question Felix about so much more now.

“Is everything alright?” Of course Minho knew something was off just by the tone of his voice.

“Yeah, I’m just here with Felix.”

“Oh,” Minho mused knowingly. “Is this a good time?”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Why did you call?” Jisung asked, feeling the weight of Felix’s eyes on him.

“It was something silly, really. Now I feel bad for calling.” Minho laughed lightly in embarrassment through the line.

“Nonsense, just tell me what it is.”

“I was going to ask you if you wanted me to order takeout from that sushi place you like.” Jisung couldn’t help but smile fondly at Minho’s obvious attempt to cheer him up after he had complained earlier to him about his day. “Just because I don’t really feel like cooking and I doubt you do either,” Minho added quickly after.

“I would really like that, thank you,” Jisung said with a small smile on his lips. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said and hung up after he heard Minho hum in return.

“Who was that?” Felix inquired immediately after, looking like he had forgotten —or simply decided to ignore— what they had been talking about just mere seconds ago.

“Minho-hyung.”

“I really like Minho-hyung,” the blond suddenly blurted out.

“My Minho-hyung?” Jisung asked as if Felix could’ve mistaken the name for someone else’s.

“Yes, your roommate Minho,” Felix said in a tone that made his sentence sound an awful lot like ‘who else would I be talking about?’ “He’s one of the few normal people that know what I do and does not look uncomfortable around me because of it.”

Jisung reserved his comment about how ‘normal’ would be the last word he would use to describe Minho and rather nodded in understanding. Felix was right, Minho had never judged him for what he did, it wasn’t really his style.

And just because he could, Jisung began feeling guilty because maybe he was judging Felix right now and his friend deserved better.

When Jisung finally makes it back home after a very long day, the first thing he does is walk towards the couch and unceremoniously plop down with his head pillowed by Minho’s legs. He is supposed to be a spider but after a tiring day he is just like one of Minho’s cats.

Minho stays unbothered by his actions and continues to read the book in his hands, simply moving his elbow to rest on the arm of the couch in order to not hit Jisung in the head with it.

Jisung’s mind hasn’t stopped spinning ever since his conversation with Felix, the words replaying over and over again like a piece of his own writing did whenever he hadn't delivered the desired message properly. He was trying to decipher them, to understand.

‘That’s the difference between heroes and whatever the hell I am.’ Over and over again, what were heroes supposed to be in the first place?

Frustrated, he rubbed his face with his hands and closed his eyes tightly. He felt the beginning of a headache start to creep its way from behind his eyes.

“Jisung, you’re thinking so hard that I can barely concentrate on reading,” Minho said while simultaneously closing his book. Jisung knew this was an invitation for him to talk about whatever was bothering him so much.

“Well,” Minho began before tilting his head to the side and furrowing his brows; now he was the one thinking hard and long to reach an answer. “I think heroes are what we make of them.”

Jisung stared at Minho with confusion in his eyes and waited for an explanation to follow. Minho leaned forward carefully to toss his book atop the coffee table and sat back before allowing one of his hands to get lost in Jisung’s mop of hair.

“If someone helps you when you need it, wouldn’t they become a hero to you?” With his fingers carding through Jisung’s hair he continued speaking, “regardless of someone’s moral compass or if they have special abilities of some sort, I think it is their positive actions towards someone that defines them as heroes.”

Hastily, Jisung sat up and repositioned himself on the couch so he was able to look Minho in the eyes. “You’re saying that even if someone is doing things that are morally wrong, helping someone would immediately turn them into a hero?”

“They would become heroes in the eyes of the person that they helped, yes,” Minho answered almost immediately. “There’s people out there that dislike Spiderman but there are even more that think of you as a hero because you spend your days helping them. Everything is about perspective.”

A heavy silence installed itself in between them. Jisung’s eyes found their way to the floor while his thoughts ran a marathon. Was he a hero? Was he not? Could the concept of heroes be as subjective as Minho was suggesting?

“Do you think I’m a hero?” Jisung broke the silence barely; his voice almost easy to miss even in the lack of noise. It was always on the longest days that time and silence seemed to stretch just to torture him.

“Yes, to me you are the best hero out there,” Minho answered without hesitation before reaching out to squeeze Jisung’s hand once. What had Jisung done to deserve praise so honest and sweet? He had no idea.

“That was too sappy, please never make me say something like that again.” Minho quickly added along a soft smile that betrayed his faux tone of disgust.

“Do you always have to ruin everything?” Jisung asked and just like that all the tension had dissolved into thin air.

Jisung began having trouble sleeping when he was barely a teenager; back then his parents had blamed it on the little to no physical activity on his schedule. They had said that Jisung simply had too much energy after spending all day inside his room.

When he first began with the whole Spiderman thing at the beginning of college his parent’s comments had proved to be true for a while. In between homework, his social life —albeit limited— and his job playing hero he had dropped dead on his bed most nights, insomnia completely forgotten.

Now having traded college for a fulltime job as a journalist and his responsibilities of a friendly and occasional saviour to the one responsible for keeping the city safe, he thought he would have an easier time sleeping but it wasn’t the case.

Even if he felt absolutely exhausted and ready for a day to end his mind kept swinging from building to building or writing an award winning article that would never see the day of light.

At barely twenty four Jisung felt the whole weight of the world on his shoulder, even worse, he felt the weight of all of his mistakes prying his eyelids open at night. Today even more so than before.

If anybody had asked him back when he was nineteen whether he was a hero or not, Jisung wouldn’t have even hesitated before saying that he was in fact one. That opinion had stayed there, unwavering for years until the night he ended up sobbing in Minho's embrace because he hadn’t been able to save someone for the first time.

Becoming an adult had been hard especially when he had been expected to make all the hard decisions while thinking of the “greater good.” At this point in his life Jisung could recite a long list of things he wasn’t proud of, but he had always been convinced the good things would end up outweighing the bad ones.

With a humourless chuckle caressing his lips on the way out, Jisung pulled his mask over his face and climbed outside from his window. This to him had become routine; not sleeping, questioning if he deserved being called a hero, night patrols.

It was just that, tonight more than ever he wanted to rip his hair out and scream at the top of his lungs to make himself heard and possibly receive an answer to the question of who was he. Spiderman or Jisung, a hero or a person that had gone way too far, two parts of one thing or simply the one human that held too many responsibilities in his arms.

Jisung climbed the wall until he reached the rooftop of his building, not waiting a single second before pushing himself off the wall and propelling his body towards the air. A single web shot from the devices attached to his wrists and then he was ready to go anywhere.

A hero or an outcast, the difference between a hero and whatever society wanted to call Felix. The world seemed to break into binaries, perfect pieces of black and white that sometimes collided but never smudged each other's colours.

What the world didn’t seem to want to acknowledge was the amount of grey taking hold of Jisung’s heart that people proclaimed had and would always be white. They wanted to ignore people like Felix or Minho that seemed not to care about whatever society told them they should care about and still were one of the nicest and most genuine people he had ever met.

The thing the world didn’t seem to want to acknowledge, the thing Jisung didn’t want to acknowledge, was that perhaps heroes are what people make of them.

Jisung understood the wish to deny like he had tried to push the anxiety inducing thoughts keeping him awake since fourteen, because sometimes the truth sounded a lot like a lie and lies appeared to be the truth. And in this special case Jisung didn’t know what he wanted to be the truth and what the lie.

“Felix,” he weakly said out loud, almost like he wished his voice would blend in with the walls around; if only to avoid announcing his presence inside a place where he felt like he didn’t belong.

“Jisung.” Felix pronounced his name with a wide smile; it was moments like those that made Jisung wonder why their relationship felt so complicated sometimes, why couldn’t they just be Felix and Jisung and let all moral dilemmas aside.

Felix patted the stool beside him twice, then he simply turned towards the bartender while pointing an accusing finger towards Jisung and winked. Next thing he knew, Jisung was sitting with a drink waiting in front of him to decide he was ready to swallow back his question in the meantime, and he was once again reminded that this was Felix’s place.

The bar that Felix frequented, tended to by a curly haired, dimpled man that always patted Jisung on the back when he was on his way out because ‘Felix’s friends are my friends too.’ The bar filled with people who did things for a living that Jisung didn’t even want to think about and some others that thought of Deadpool —Felix’s alias— as a hero.

It was the kind of place where Jisung couldn’t just stash his blue and red suit into his beaten up backpack and call it a day. Because if there were people who would have the right to call Spiderman the opposite of a hero it was them.

As much as Jisung hated it sometimes, Spiderman began as someone who challenged authorities with his mere presence and had ended up with someone pointing online that his suit had all the colours of the South Korean flag. Somewhere along the way he had ended up another foolish symbol of the law while having nothing to do with the government.

So if anyone on that bar suddenly shouted ‘Fuck Spiderman!’ Jisung would scream along with them and down his drink in the same way that he was doing right now.

“Wow, take it easy there.” Felix’s voice reached his ears right when his empty glass touched the wooden countertop once again. “We literally saw each other a couple of hours ago, how much worse could your day have turned in so little time?” Felix was asking as a joke, but boy did he have no idea.

“It’s life, nothing is impossible. Every shitty day can turn even shittier in a matter of seconds,” Jisung shrugged before nodding sheepishly at the bartender who offered to refill his glass.

“I think that’s the first smart thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Felix says and laughs when Jisung hits him in the arm just to groan a bit after the latter has inflicted the damage.

“You good?” Jisung questions him, his finger tracing the rim of his newly filled glass.

“Yes, it’s no big deal. You know I heal fast.” Felix grins stupidly wide before continuing, “I just came back from meeting with the person that hired me for today’s job and they weren’t really happy about me walking back on our deal.”

“I’m so sorry for…” What is he even supposed to say? ‘Sorry for preventing a murder’ or perhaps ‘I’m sorry that this person was pissed nobody died tonight’? “complicating things for you,” he finally settles on.

“No, please, I’m even kinda glad you did.” There went Jisung again with his questioning gaze and eternally sealed lips at the worst of times. “I looked up Dr. Yang and he seems like the kind of person that could actually make a change for the better, you know? I’m sorry that I even took that job in the first place.”

The blond man downed the remaining of his drink in one go and grimaced more in embarrassment than bother by the burn of the liquor going down his throat. Jisung thought that if he were in Felix's place he would also be heavily regretting who he had been about to harm, because not only was Jeongin a young, bright man but he was also a scientist whose research on regenerative medicine looked more than promising.

“Do you think they’ll look for another person to finish the job for you?” Jisung asked not really sure if he wanted to hear the answer he most likely already knew.

With a couple of nods Felix managed to make Jisung feel ten times more exhausted than he was and it must have showed on his face because Felix immediately reached to pat his back and say, “let me walk you home and we’ll figure things out together, okay?”

Would it be that bad if Jisung admitted that he was one of those people that thought Felix was a hero despite knowing very well he wasn’t a good person? And was it a crime to wish for the people on that bar to keep hating what the idea of Spiderman had begun standing for?

Minho stared at them from the kitchen with an unimpressed look, a glass of water on his hand and his hair sticking up in every odd way possible once Felix and him made it through the door of the apartment.

“Don’t puke on my rug.” Was all he said before walking straight towards his room without sparing them another glance.

Jisung had long learned that Minho’s rug was off limits when it came to making a mess. He could even dare leave snack wrappers on Minho’s room from when Jisung would pace around the apartment trying to come up with something good to write, and Minho would only groan in annoyance before cleaning up after him. But the rug was holy, one single stain and Jisung would come back to find all of his things waiting for him outside in boxes.

“You can sleep on the couch,” Jisung said while untying his shoes and hurrying to disappear to his room, praying that this time he will be able to fall asleep.

“What if I mess up the rug?” Felix whisper-shouts before Jisung is out of earshot and oh how the latter wants to break out laughing; everyone knows that Minho’s rug is off limits.

“He’ll be merciful and let you live, maybe.” He doesn’t even relish for long on Felix’s fearful expression because he’s really tired and can barely enjoy anything apart from the feeling of his body being flush against his bed.

This time when he tries to fall asleep it’s much easier but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t fall asleep to a loop of his friends’ words. And if he dreams about heroes or figuring things out once he’s much more awake, then who can blame him?

It’s only until the sunlight is coming through his curtains that he of course forgot to close last night, that he opens his eyes again, and, although begrudgingly, makes his way out of bed.

The sight that greets him once he gets out of his room is the back of a blond mess of hair standing in front of the stove.

“Where’s Minho-hyung?” Jisung asks instead of trying to put a number to the position of the sun in the sky because he’s used to getting a bearing of the time based on whatever his roommate is doing; perhaps way too used to it.

“He left a couple of minutes ago,” Felix supplies and Jisung groans in retaliation because that means it is way too early for him to be already up and awake.

“I’m glad you’re up though, because we have a lot to do today.” Jisung doesn’t question what he’s being told and just groans noncommittally. “Where do you guys keep the mugs anyway?”

Slowly but steadily his arm unglues from his side and points towards one of the cabinets. “What do you mean with ‘a lot to do today’?” Jisung finally inquires, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“First I need you to make a couple of calls, more specifically to Dr. Yang, we need to talk to him.” Felix sounds like he had spent all night thinking of what they would do and Jisung didn’t doubt it was the case. The only problem was that it was way too fucking early for everything but most importantly for calls.

On that same instant his phone buzzes, when he checks it’s Seungmin asking about whether Jisung thinks there will be something deserving of his presence and camera today.

Jisung knows it’s his fault for apparently only befriending morning people.

When Jisung is wearing his mask he never hesitates before speaking, he rarely falters and doesn’t think twice before diving right into things. It’s almost amusing how one object can encourage him to live fearlessly in the way he does not when he’s simply roaming through the streets.

Still, there are moments in which he hesitates even while proudly wearing his suit; those are the most terrifying and challenging of all.

The moment that Jeongin becomes aware of who is trailing behind Jisung as he enters the lab is one of those moments. Jeongin’s body becomes stiff at the same time that his gaze becomes threatening and defensive.

“Get out of here!” Jeongin screams after scrambling to grab something he can protect himself with, which ends up being a microscope, one that remains plugged to the wall at that.

“He’s not going to hurt you,” Jisung says and immediately regrets the defensive tone his voice has acquired; his priority should be trying to calm Jeongin not defending Felix. It takes a moment but the young doctor reluctantly puts the not so threatening object down even if that causes a frown to set deep on his face.

“I still don’t want him here.” Comes right after and before Jisung can fight for his friend to stay, Felix bows until the front of his mask is facing the floor and mutters an apology before exiting the room.

Now it’s Jisung’s turn to speak up, to say the one thing that will fix things in a second; at least that’s the kind of thing that’s expected of him as a hero. He’s expected to soothe the man in front of him and not get mad or hurt on behalf of his friend. He’s expected to be a hero when there are days where he can barely be a person.

“With all due respect because I know you’re old and all, but what were you thinking by bringing him back here?” Jeongin asks, incredulity and anger hugging his words.

“First of all, I don’t know how many times I have to repeat it but I’m only one year older than you.” Jisung doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’s expecting but he deems Jeongin’s straight face barely satisfactory before continuing, “second, I said I was bringing someone to help.”

“But you didn’t specify that you were bringing him.” The way Jeongin said it made Jisung feel like it was a personal attack. “I would rather not get any help at all than get his.”

“Are you serious? You would rather die than accept help?!” His voice sounded too harsh even to him but Jeongin didn’t even flinch.

“He tried to kill me! Just yesterday!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?!”

“Then why would you even think of bringing him?” This time Jeongin’s voice comes out less strong because the words get stuck in his throat for a second and lessen their brash impact.

“Because he can help you,” Jisung says after having sighed audibly in order to calm himself down. “Right now he might be the only one capable of helping you.”

“He’s a murderer, how could he help me?”

Another reason why Jisung is so grateful for his mask is that it stops his emotions from laying bare in front of just anyone; right now the mask hides the tears of frustration and something else that threaten to blurry his vision. “He’s a person, a human, he’s completely capable of helping as he is capable of causing harm and he’s decided to help you right now, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I can’t trust him, I don’t know the man and to be honest I’m terrified of him.”

Jisung couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand where Jeongin was coming from, the thing was that he understood a bit too well and that bothered him. “I’m not asking you to like him or even trust him but trust me when I tell you that he is trying to help and that he will go far and beyond to do everything in his hands to ensure that you’re safe.”

Jeongin’s face twists in confusion before his hands hurry to smooth down his expression back into indifference. “I trust you because you’re the superhero here but don’t for a moment think I’ll forgive him.”

Hesitation comes once again, this time in the form of words stuck on his throat. This isn’t only about his confusing opinion on some individuals or the people he decided to befriend, this was about everything that laid in between, waiting for Jisung to work it out.

The questions from yesterday that had begun years back and the answers that he received along with the ones he pretended he didn’t have. Perhaps it was too about being the best hero he could even if sometimes he lacked too much.

“Heroes are what you make of them and so are bad guys. You just need to keep an open mind and understand that not everything is so black and white.” Is all that ends up tumbling down from his lips and at the moment, all that he can feel proud of.

Standing right in that grey area Jeongin looks stunned at Jisung’s words for a moment, then comes a silent resignation that reaches all the way from Jeongin’s eyes to Jisung’s chest and squeezes his heart harshly.

Jisung only hopes that trying is good enough, because the more time that goes by the more he’s convinced that he doesn’t deserve to be called a hero. Not when he stands there defending and vouching for people that he has the audacity to judge himself.

“Where do you know this person from?” Felix says while holding Jisung’s phone in front of Jeongin, displaying a picture of the person that had hired Felix to get rid of Jeongin.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” Is Jeongin’s immediate response and Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised at hearing the young doctor cursing so openly.

“Okay, that’s not the kind of reaction I was expecting.” The look that Felix throws his way would make him laugh if only the context were different.

“We don’t know anything, that's why we’re asking you. This is the man that wanted you dead,” Jisung begins with his hands held outstretched in front of Jeongin, akin to how one would raise their hands to try and calm a wild animal. “So why don’t you tell us what you know about him?”

At the question Jeongin looks absolutely mortified, like Jisung that one time Minho came back early from work to find him putting on his very own —and lousy— choreographies around the apartment while only wearing his underwear. It really was that level of mortification.

“Please, don’t think poorly of me just because of this.” Jeongin hangs his head low and directs his eyes towards the floor where their feet wait unmovable. Jisung has to swallow the desire to tell him that asking not to be judged based on one decision after having done so himself was a bit rich coming from him.

Neither Jisung nor Felix say anything, they simply wait for the man in front of them to find the courage to admit to the actions that seem to bring him so much grief.

“I needed the money.” That’s what escapes Jeongin’s mouth first. “Back when I began my research not many people were willing to fund me so I tried looking for funding anywhere I could and he- well, he was the first person that agreed to give me the money I needed.”

Jisung’s hand falls atop Jeongin’s shoulder with a steady weight, making the latter look up from the tiles reflecting the blue lighting of the room. “That’s nothing to feel ashamed about, you ended up using the money well, didn’t you?” Jisung asks while pointing around the lab with his free hand.

Slowly and unsure Jeongin nods before redirecting his gaze to Felix, as if somehow he couldn’t look directly at Jisung after having admitted to borrowing money from a shady guy or perhaps wondering if Felix judged him for it.

“So you owe this man money?” the blond man asks with a confused tilt to his voice, as if he was unconvinced that was reason enough for someone to wish to kill a man.

“No, I paid him back soon after the whole research picked up. But he seemed to think that paying him back wasn’t enough.” A long sigh escapes Jeongin’s lips as his right hand rubs at his own neck in frustration. “He told me I would always owe him no matter what. He said his faith in me wasn’t something I could simply pay him back for.”

“God, I-” Agitated, Jeongin rose to his feet and began pacing around the room. “I didn’t know what he meant at first but then he kept asking about how the research was coming along and that’s when I knew I had to get away.

That’s what I thought you were trying to get yesterday, the files on the research, it hadn’t crossed my mind that he was sending someone to kill me.”

Jisung looked at Felix and found his friend looking directly back at him; now this made much more sense to both of them.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jisung mused.

“What was I supposed to say? Hello Spiderman, I made a deal with some shady people a while back and now they seem to be trying to kill me?!”

“Yes! That’s kind of exactly what you should’ve said.” Jisung was about to go on when a gunshot reverberated on the walls of the laboratory. It seemed like some people were in a real rush to get rid of Jeongin.

They didn’t have much time to react afterwards, shock freezing Jeongin on the spot and expectation pushing the remaining two to assume their fighting stances before someone came in through the door.

“Take Dr. Yang to a safe place, I’ll take care of this,” Felix said once a second gunshot was heard.

Realistically speaking, Jisung wouldn’t know what to do with a possible hired assassin, besides sticking him onto the wall with his webs and hope they would take a long time getting out of there. But he also wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave things at Felix’s mercy, because the gun his friend held in his right hand said a lot about how things would end.

Just because he wasn’t the one pulling the trigger could he pretend the responsibility didn’t fall on him at all. Jisung thinks there’s enough blood in his hands as it is and even though he knows he’d sooner or later learn to sleep peacefully in spite of it, it doesn’t mean he wants to.

“Please don’t kill them,” escapes Jisung’s lips almost by accident but he means every single word.

“What do you mean?” Felix asks, almost sounding offended. “I can’t not do it.”

The world collapses atop Jisung’s chest, knocking all the breath out of his lungs. He takes a couple of steps until he’s standing in front of Felix and grabs his friend by the shoulders. “Please don’t kill them, promise me you won’t do it. There’s always another way.”

“Jis-” his friend started whispering before another bullet cut through the air. Jisung only feels himself being pushed to the side, staggering to find balance before he takes in the bullet sinking onto Felix’s torso.

Felix frees a bullet of his own, a diversion that allows him to say, “get out of here and don’t worry, I won’t do it.”

With his eyes, Jisung begs for his friend to mean every word uttered. Deciding to trust him, he turns his back to him and runs to escape.

The movies always make the flying scenes where the heroes hold an innocent civilian by the waist and take them somewhere safe seem really romantic. Jisung couldn’t find anything romantic in Jeongin screaming right beside his ear.

“I need you to relax!” Jisung exclaims only when the threat of a headache begins forming at the front of his head. He isn’t being paid enough for this, mainly because he isn’t being paid at all.

Jeongin answers him with another loud shriek, his arms tightening even more around Jisung’s neck to which the latter reacted by chuckling humorlessly.

Thankfully it wasn’t long before they stopped swinging around the city, finding temporary refuge on the emergency staircase of an apartment building. Both men let out a big sigh, each one for very different reasons but equally grateful their little trip seemed to be over.

He could see Jeongin question look mixing with his nauseated expression once Jisung knocked on the window that was placed right in front of them. He knocked and knocked until an annoyed brunet man appeared.

“Hello Seungmin,” Jisung began with his voice slightly higher than usual. “Would you be a dear and help me out by looking over this man for a short while?”

“What the hell?” Was all Seungmin uttered before letting his judgemental stare register the entirety of Jeongin’s existence.

“That’s not a very nice way to greet a guest,” Jisung said with a pout that immediately disappeared once Seungmin’s glare was redirected to him. “Please, it’s an emergency, literal life and death situation.”

“You’re only making things sound way worse now. At least try to convince me.”

“Seungmin, there isn’t time for this right now.” At that Seungmin crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares at him expectantly. “Ugh, okay, you win. I’ll take you with me to the next high risk situation I have. I promise.”

“The next two.” The other man’s tone sounds like his offer is non negotiable.

“Do you want to die?”

“You’re already putting me in harm’s way right now, I might as well get something good out of it.” Jisung doesn’t fight anymore simply because Seungmin is right and he won’t ever admit that out loud. Instead he simply urges Jeongin with the gestures of his hands to get inside Seungmin’s apartment.

“Who is this man?” Are the first words Jeongin says after they arrive; Jisung and Seungmin exchange a look and the latter speaks up saying “I’m his, uh, photographer.”

“And apparently his babysitter,” he adds under his breath a moment before helping Jeongin climb inside from the window.

“I owe you one, really, thanks.” Jisung would put on his best charming smile before taking his leave but the mask hindered his charismatic weapon useless.

“Just keep your part of the deal,” Seungmin says before closing the window in front of his face.

Some people say the scars you get along the way are important lessons you aren’t meant to forget. Perhaps that’s why Felix keeps touching the bullet hole on his suit that allows a peak of skin to shine through; the patches on the material are the scars his skin can’t keep.

Our scars can both remind us of our fragility and prove how far we’ve come. Jisung hopes with his entire heart that the miniscule whole on Felix’s suit will remind him there’s always other ways to deal with things.

He won’t thank Felix for not killing the person that came after Jeongin, because those aren’t the kind of things you thank people for. But he makes sure that his friend catches a glimpse of his relieved expression once he realises Felix kept his promise.

Jisung convinces Felix to take the person to the police station and makes a show out of the latter being the one that had caught them. Maybe because he wants more people to see Felix as he does or simply because it keeps making Felix giggle and elbow him on the ribs so that he stops.

Maybe even because he feels guilty beyond words. Every disparaging comment people make about his friend, every dirty look people cast his way; it all reminds him of the times Jisung had doubted or judged Felix too.

Seeing how Jeongin had treated Felix, how he was relentlessly unforgiving, had opened Jisung’s eyes to a nasty reality. He too was quick to resent people and believe that they weren’t actually capable of change.

Even when he went about life preaching that everyone could choose the right path any given day, he didn’t really believe in his own words. Jisung was a hypocrite, a bad friend, and perhaps a bad person too.

“I’m sorry about what I said yesterday,” Jisung suddenly announced to the silence that had chased them for a while now.

Felix turned to look at him for a second; Jisung couldn’t see his expression because of the mask but he noticed the confusion lacing his friend’s silence.

“Yesterday at the rooftop, when I asked you why you kept taking these jobs.” Jisung didn’t even know if bringing it up was okay or if apologising was the right thing to do, he just knew it was the thing he wanted to do. “I don’t want you to think that I judge you for the things you do. I actually strive to be a little more like you.”

Without skipping a beat Felix circled Jisung’s shoulders with his arm and brought him close. “You make me want to be a better person too. And if I were to be completely honest, you’re the last person that I’d ever feel judged by.”

At that Jisung almost tears up and throws caution out the window just to stop and hug his friend, one of those specially warm and long hugs; that is until his arm gets nudged by a gun and he remembers where they are.

The blond man is nonchalant about this and even goes as far as lightly slapping away the gun the man behind Jisung is holding before saying, “can’t you see we’re having a moment right now?”

Jisung doesn’t think he has ever seen someone look more confused in his entire life. The man that was escorting them at gunpoint to meet the person that had hired Felix, stood looking dazed for a moment before lowering his gun and ushering them to begin walking again.

When both Jisung and Felix were involved it was hard to keep things professional and solemn, which wasn’t always a great thing until it was, like when they got taken less seriously because of it. No matter how goofy or utterly ridiculous they can get, they still spend their days fighting and that is something that should never be overlooked.

But, alas, people always overlooked it, which is why both Jisung and Felix get to work as soon as they step foot inside the man’s office. Like clogs on a mechanism, they move deliberately in ways that allows them to be efficient.

Felix takes one step forward and out of Jisung’s way before the latter stretches his arms to the sides and shoots webs in the direction of the two unsuspecting men that stand guarding the door, one of which had scourted them there in the first place.

He pulls his arms towards him with all of his strength and brings his victims face down on the floor. That’s as far as Jisung’s contribution goes, because if he were to be fully sincere, he only had a vague idea of Felix’s plan.

Earlier when they were having breakfast, the blond man had only explained to him that he wanted to find out the reason why Jeongin was being targeted before deciding how they would go about solving this problem. Later, when Jeongin had finally revealed the motives to them, Felix had only asked Jisung to follow him and that entailed helping the former too.

Helping Felix with what exactly? That much he did not know, so he settled for staying near the entrance door and throwing some cautious webs to further stick the men to the floor while Felix kept walking closer towards the desk placed in the middle of the room.

The man that had hired Felix looked as relaxed as ever, arms crossed behind his neck and smile all too confident. His eyes completely disregarded Jisung’s presence moments after the shock of the commotion had worn off, but they kept following Felix's figure like he was trying to predict the blond’s movements.

However, he seemed to fail at the aforementioned task when Felix took him by surprise and slammed his head against the desk with one brutal hit. The man groaned in pain exactly when Jisung’s eyes were opening wider than ever before.

Calmly, Felix hovered behind the man and took out his gun from the holder on his leg before pressing the end of the barrel to the man’s temple.

Jisung stood there, taking the scene in without moving an inch. For the very first time he could say with all confidence that he trusted Felix and whatever choice his friend would end up making, he would live with it.

“Listen here you piece of shit,” Felix began in a fathomless voice that made a shiver run down Jisung’s spine, “you either leave Dr. Yang alone or I’ll blow your brains out, understood?”

Felix accentuated his comment with a threatening push of his gun against the man’s head that seemed to elicit a less than satisfying response if Felix’s reaction was anything to go by. Without a second to spare Felix moved his gun away from the man’s head and fired.

The sound made Jisung’s eyes snap shut for a split second; once he opened them back again he was met by the sight of a man scared shitless and basically being forced to watch the gaping hole embedded onto the wood of his desk.

A whimper came tumbling down from the lips that had been previously curled up with a smirk and finally Felix seemed to be satisfied with what he had in front of him.

When Jisung had said he strived to be a little bit more like Felix, he really meant every word.

His friend walks away from the desk just enough for the man to deem it safe to sit back up, which proves to be a mistake once Felix retaliates by punching the man’s face down back into the desk.

Nonchalant as ever Felix walks towards Jisung, wraps one of his arms around Jisung’s shoulders and turns him around so they can simply walk away from there, not before adding, “I doubt he will bother us again.”

This time Jisung doesn’t feel the need to look back and grimace, instead he lets a soft laugh he didn’t know he was holding in and walks away feeling as light as he did the morning of the day before.

“Kneel before your gracious saviour,” Jisung exclaimes loud and clear right after having opened Seungmin’s window from outside and waltzing inside the apartment.

From behind him Felix laughs in the bright and sweet way that only he can do, not even trying to play humble as he raises his hands in the air and waits for the crowd to acclaim him in the same fashion Jisung had jokingly promised.

There’s no apparent celebration though, as Seungmin simply reaches out to pause the movie playing on his tv and spares them a glance before rising to his feet. “This means I’m being relieved of my babysitter duties, right?”

Jisung wants to punch Seungmin —softly, of course— for not playing along but simply nods in reply.

“By the way,” Seungmin speaks up again, “I would really appreciate it if you stopped bringing strangers into my home.”

“Oh, sure. We’ll just pick up Jeongin and then we’ll go.” The way Jisung said it made it sound like they were picking up a kid from school, it made everyone in the room laugh except for Jeongin, of course. Jeongin who sits on the couch looking at them with expectant eyes that ask for answers that Jisung was more than glad to give.

“You have nothing else to worry about, we’ve settled things with this man and he shouldn’t be bothering you anymore. If he does then you just need to call and we’ll take care of it.”

An invisible veil of tension lifted from the room once Jisung finished speaking, some simple words could put an end to such a stressful situation, simply words like the ‘thank you’ Jeongin said before adding, “to the both of you.”

Simple words and simple actions, simply acknowledging that you weren’t so right after all, not so sure even if you stood proudly and proclaimed things out loud. As simple as forgiveness and understanding.

“I’m sorry for what happened earlier today,” Jeongin says before standing up and taking a couple of hesitant steps towards Felix. “Don’t get me wrong, you did try to kill me and I don’t think I’ll be quite over that anytime soon but I’m really sorry to have been so quick to judge you.”

“I don’t blame you for holding a grudge so don’t worry,” Felix speaks from under the mask. Jisung thinks that maybe he could say Felix is a good person after all, a forgiving, considerate, and nice person with a unique moral compass.

“No, really, I was wrong to think you wouldn’t help me and in the end Jisung was right.” Jeongin’s eyes find their way to Jisung for a moment, this time glimmering with something more hopeful. “Heroes really are what we make of them, and you saved me today.”

There’s a silence that fills the room and many looks that are exchanged between the four men standing there, a handful of meanings and feelings that Jisung doesn’t dare put a name to.

“I’m just glad I could help,” Felix finally breaks the silence and everyone in that room can hear how much he truly means it.

“Heroes are what we make of them, huh? Since when are you so poetic Jisungie?” Felix asks in a teasing tone once they’re alone, at the top of a building, with their masks pulled off. It’s a repetition of the previous day, the sun hanging low on the sky once again.

Jisung is too tired to do something aside from ducking his head in embarrassment and say, “Minho-hyung was the one who said that, I’ve just kinda been repeating it a lot.”

“That makes sense, it sounded way too smart for you to have said it.”

“Fuck you, Lix.”

The air brings along a silence that’s barely disrupted by the noise of the bustling city underneath them, they’re too high up for that. So they simply stay seated on the ledge and let the sun hide before their eyes.

“But Minho-hyung is right,” Jisung finally says after what feels like forever, “what makes someone a hero is really up to us and today you were a real hero to more than one person.”

Felix looks almost bashful as he shakes his head and looks away. “Who would’ve said that I would be called a hero by the one and amazing Spiderman?”

Jisung can’t help but frown even if he doesn’t really know why. “We’re not so different, Spiderman isn’t as good as the people make him out to be and you aren’t as bad as people want you to believe you are.”

“Spiderman is a real hero though.” This time Felix is actually looking him directly in the eye and Jisung can see all the bits and pieces of hurt that swim on his pupils.

“I am Spiderman,” Jisung states matter-of-factly. “I’m human, I’m faulty and flawed. I’m just a person trying to help others and failing sometimes as I try.”

Wherever he went, Jisung didn’t doubt he would keep being called a hero and getting his failures and mistakes justified because of it. But Jisung wouldn’t let himself believe that anymore; he needed to accept all the bad along with the good and still be able to stand proud on his feet.

Because he was human but he was a hero to many as well, and he couldn’t think of a better thing to do than try his best. He wanted to try to be the hero that people needed.

“There’s no such thing as real heroes, we’re all just people trying to do what we think is best.” A childish grin takes hold of Jisung’s lips before he turns to face his friend. “And I think you did your best today.”

“You did too, you always do.” Felix pats Jisung’s back before laughing at himself. “Who am I kidding, I’m more a hug kind of guy”

Unceremoniously Felix stands up and steps away from the ledge before turning to Jisung and opening his arms wide, the latter simply rolls his eyes but goes and hugs him because he’s also more into hugs.

“I’m really proud of you, hero,” Jisung says and this time the word feels right in his mouth.

“I’m home,” Jisung calls out the second after the door closes behind his back and he makes quick work of unlacing his shoes.

“Are there more existential crises for me today?” Minho asks from his place on the couch, only because he can see that Jisung is in a good mood.

Jisung lets out a breathy laugh before approaching the couch from behind. “No, I’m afraid you solved all my current problems with your wise words yesterday.” Minho’s head is resting at the back of the couch so he can look at the other man; the words make him grin in a mix of satisfaction and relief.

“You’re my hero,” Jisung adds before leaning down to plant a quick kiss on Minho’s forehead. He has used the word hero more times today than in his entire life but it feels different, mainly because he thinks he finally understands what the word is meant to convey.

In the best Minho fashion his ears turn red at the tips before he snarks, “you’re all sweaty and you smell, go take a shower,” just for the sake of diverting the attention to something else but himself.

“I really mean it, you practically saved the day today,” Jisung is quick to add before rushing to the bathroom in order to avoid his roommate’s habit of smacking people in the arm whenever he got too embarrassed.

Later under the steady flow of water Jisung relishes on how light his chest feels for the first time in too long. He doesn’t need to worry about tomorrow or the day after, about whether he’s a good person or not, if he deserves what he has, or if he’s a good enough friend for the people he cares about.

Perhaps for the first in forever he feels content to reach the conclusion that he really isn’t a hero because to him he's Jisung and he’s trying his best.

#straykidsland #kpop #stray kids oneshot #straykids fanfic #stray kids felix #stray kids jisung #stray kids han #skz Felix #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz jisung #skz han

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moon-lixie · 2 years

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thank you so much, I smiled a lot while reading this. you're so absolutely sweet and I'm glad that someone caught onto the vibe I was trying to portray, because I wanted this to read like a scene from a romance movie. thank you, really. 💚

“Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts?” he speaks up unceremoniously, as if he were reciting a line from his favourite poem in the world. “You asked me that the first time we met, remember?”

word count: 1.537k

genre: angst, fluff.

song: aurora - runaway (s l o w e d + r e v e r b)

The moment Chan reaches to turn off the car he has to remind himself to take a deep breath. His hands are shaking, bringing his whole body along to sway until his heart begins picking up its pace once again.

Raindrops impact against the windshield, hiding the rest of the world from his eyes and ears that cannot recognise anything beyond the heavy downpour. For a moment he fears he’s at the wrong place but if anything, he is only at the wrong time.

With a defeated sigh he allows his head to fall forward and against the top of the steering wheel, unspoken words twisting his tongue on itself while simultaneously threatening to scream out everything that fear had stopped him from acknowledging with a proud voice before.

His options are few, his desires even less. In his mind he’s very well aware that there’s only one thing he can do but his hands don’t listen to reasoning now that they’re required to. He’s stuck on the timelessness of feeling everything so much that his bones rattle with a threat of falling apart.

A shaky exhale follows another deep breath, follows the desire of cowardice to drain from his veins once and for all. One more deep breath follows the dialling tone reverberating off the walls of his car, follows the single second of wanting something so much that fear doesn’t even cross his mind.

“Hello?” Your voice cuts through the rain and in return the rain drowns your silence that follows immediately behind.

“Could you come outside, please? I have something that I need to tell you.” Chan can barely recognise the shy voice escaping his lips, an enormous contrast to the confident one inside his head that doesn’t think twice before screaming exactly what he wants to say.

He can hear the question that gets stuck in your throat before you hurriedly agree with a choked yes that barely makes itself known over the thundering leaping of his heart.

Chan knows that all it takes is one moment of bravery, a light push, and then he won’t be able to fight the inertia so he pushes the door open and gets out of his car for the rain to welcome him like a long-lost friend.

In front of him there’s a house painted white that he can barely recognise until seconds later you walk out with your heart in one hand and all of your dreams on the other. You walk out like you’ve always walked, too raw, too open, too undeserving of the bad things the universe throws around without a care.

Then you stare at him from the closest place you can without getting soaked under the rain, with concern drowning your eyes, turning them into bottomless pools of the kind of care we’re supposed to give out scarcely. You stare and give all that care away to him without second thought.

He feels the force of his own movements as he walks closer to you and decides that he doesn't have it in himself to worry about how he might look, rain hugging his clothes and dragging him down towards the floor, unshed tears posing as the reflection of the raindrops falling before him. He doesn’t care if he looks like the biggest fool in the world because all he can care about right now is you.

Chan could swear it had been you from the very beginning of time itself, had been you since the first time he saw you and would continue to be you until the day he tried to fool himself to think it was no longer you who he cared about more than his own life.

Personally he thought it would be impossible not to, because that drunken night had been a fairytale where you looked like the shining moon on an unexpecting night that hadn’t prepared itself to transcend in the life and memory of the two people standing here and now.

Reminiscing about those words was looking back at a life where it felt like he had it all before he even rationalised having you. It was remembering the hazy image of your blinding smile and easy movements as you wandered among the streets with him trailing behind.

“Remember what I answered?” Without a second to spare you nod but he goes ahead and says it anyway. “I said I didn’t know, I told you I wasn’t sure if I had.” His past words sound beyond foolish to him now.

He knew that you had found his answer foolish too, by the way you stopped in your tracks and looked at him like he knew nothing about life. It was then perhaps that he had realised the entire world was hiding in your eyes.

Your answer then had been definitive and he would never be able to forget it. “You’ll know when it happens and only until then.”

“Well, I have a new answer for you so I need you to ask me again,” Chan says, his voice making it sound like a request that you could refuse, and you could, he would simply not know what to do if you did.

“Have you?” you ask, voice barely the shadow of your usual upbeat tone.

“Have I what?” Chan questions insistently, begging you to play along with him on this particular night where the sky seems as upset as the both of you.

Taking a deep breath you indulge him with a new found intent colouring your voice. “Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurts, Chan? Have you?”

In that moment he feels like his knees are going to give out under the weight of his relief while he nods as if the rain hitting the back of his head wasn’t trying to force him to keep his head hung low.

“Yes, I have, I do. I finally understand how it feels to love someone so much that it hurts to have them by your side as much as it hurts to have them leave you.” Eyes trained on yours, he continues, “I, once and for all, know how it feels to love someone to the point that they’re the only thing that matters in the world.”

For his own foolishness, his very own and very heavy fears, for all the times he had dared hesitate in the past, he takes a step forward and another after that. Only a force as big as the universe could stop him at the time, and that force resided all in your voice.

“I love you,” he finally says in his last attempt to show you how much you had changed his entire life, how much he desired to stand with his soul in the open for you to watch in a similar way to how you’ve dared to stand in front of everyone for the entirety of your life.

The force of your voice that only matched that of the whole world, trembled when you muttered his very own last three words back to him, and it was only then that Chan felt himself become the most powerful and unstoppable man to have ever stepped on this earth.

With the strength he had acquired by stepping out from his car, he moves closer until the rain can no longer reach him with its freezing hands. He moves closer until there is nowhere else to look at but you.

From that very first night he should've known that you were the only logical path to take, the only thing that meant enough to make his soul feel crushed and then more alive than ever seconds later with just a couple of words.

He watches you and looks for the stars in your eyes only to find constellations that have no name to human kind. If he had ever thought that it wouldn’t be you, couldn’t be you, then he had been trying to hide the moon behind his palm.

At that moment Chan only wants to say that he loves you more than words could ever express until he realises that saying that out loud would be yet another mistake. He doesn’t allow himself to use words for something that clearly transcends them and simply leans towards you until your breaths become one.

With his hands cradling your face and a single approving movement of your head he resolves in pressing his lips against yours in what feels a lot like coming home after being lost for too long.

The moment Chan reaches out to hold you in between his arms he has to remind himself to take a deep breath. His hands are shaking, bringing his whole body along to sway until his heart begins picking up its pace right along yours.

Raindrops impact against the pavement, hiding the both of you from the rest of the world. Finally he knows he’s in the only place and time he would ever wish to be at.

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moon-lixie · 2 years

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O my!!! Your Chan fic is literally art, your sentences are so beautiful to read and convey the emotions so deeply letting them be felt and touched through words. Like standing in front of an artwork and admiring it and feeling open and exposed in front of the realisation that we all in the end need and crave the same things and the piece comforts you, and suddenly you don't so alone anymore. I will for sure read more of your works and thank you for sharing them!

that's such a beautiful way to describe the feeling. 'we all in the end need and crave the same things' exactly, you're absolutely right.

thank you so much for the sweet words and for taking the time to read, I hope you enjoy reading at least half of what I enjoyed while writing.

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moon-lixie · 2 years

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word count: 1.537k

genre: angst, fluff, gn reader x chan.