Archive of Our Own ^beta

The trouble about secret identities is that you can’t keep a secret that big for too long.  Robin was never just another name for Chan.  At first, it was a form of protection, for him and for the people he wanted to help.  The Chan that came into Batman’s care was young, vulnerable and orphaned; from that day, he vowed that no one else would ever have to feel as hopeless as he did.

Robin was brave when Chan couldn’t be.  Robin helped people when Chan couldn’t.  Being Robin gave Chan a purpose that he could never dream of before.

But Robin had always been his best kept secret.  It was for safety, he reasoned with himself, but the reasoning always felt weaker whenever his teammates would confess their identities to each other.  

Things had changed, he would argue in his head.  Chan wasn’t alone anymore, he had the support of his teammates and the bond that they had forged, but his silence wrapped around his heart and constricted his breathing nonetheless.

The same feeling of guilt washed over him as he sits, half-sunken in the plush couch of the Mt. Justice common room where Kid Flash had asked them to gather.  The tall, puppy-like boy was almost never nervous, but his hands became a fidgeting blur in front of their curious eyes.

“Thanks for gathering here guys,” he starts off awkwardly, which earns him some heckling and boos from the Team (in particular, Eight yells “We’re your friends, you don’t have to be so formal!”).  “Settle down, y’all.”  Mingyu cracks a grin, settling into casualness.

“Um, as Eight mentioned, you guys are my friends, and I know we’re superheroes, but I think y’all deserve the truth.  About me, I mean.  And.. I don’t wanna lie anymore.”

The Team stops their heckling to sink into an expectant silence.  Knowing what’s about to happen, Chan feels the urge to sink down further into his chair.

Kid Flash takes a deep breath and takes off his mask.  “My civilian name is Kim Mingyu.  I’m a highschooler part-timing as a superhero.  I don’t wanna wear any masks in front of you guys because I trust y’all NOT to be backstabbing bitches.  Which is to say, I trust you guys a lot.”

Hoshi stands up suddenly, moving to stand at Mingyu’s side.  “I have something to say as well!” he shouts, because everything has to be a performance with Hoshi.  He winds his hand tightly in Mingyu’s.  With his free hand, he rips off his green mask.

“My name is Kwon Soonyoung and I’m a superhero.  But I’m also just a normal teenager.”  Everything’s a show, everyone’s an actor, and Soonyoung's intense gaze demands silence and awe and praise.  Truly, a “tiger’s gaze.”

He surveys the room like a predator.  “We’re friends, aren’t we?” his voice, while quieter, is no less fierce.  “No more hiding.”

It feels less like the divulging of a secret and more like an interrogation.  Chan feels a bit like prey.

Feeling the sheer amount of peer pressure just one person was giving off, Miss Martian floats over to Soonyoung and Mingyu’s side in the front of the room.

“I have nothing to say,” he admits, “I don’t really have a secret identity to reveal, being an alien.  I just wanted to be a part of things.”  Predictably, Soonyoung whoops loudly anyway, using his other hand to grasp Joshua’s as well.

“Tell them anyway!”  Soonyoung encourages.

Joshua rolls his eyes but complies.  “My name’s J’shua, but you can call me Shua!” he says fake-perkily. 

The next person to walk up is surprisingly their resident snarker Eight.  He doesn’t seem as light as Joshua to walk up, but then again he can’t float.  

“My overprotective dad might kill me for telling you guys this,”  Eight rolls his eyes,  “But my name’s Minghao. Hoshi’s right about.. friendship, etc, all that sappy shit.  There.”

Minghao’s confession surprisingly spurs on Rocket, their latest team member.  Although he was the latest to join them, Rocket stepped up with a casual air.

“My real name’s Hansol.”

Soonyoung pauses, waiting for him to say more, but Hansol doesn’t elaborate. Instead he just shoves his hands into the pocket of his uniform jacket. Unperturbed by the silence, Soonyoung gestures for Minghao to take Hansol’s hand. Soon, everybody -- except Chan -- ends up with their hands all linked together in a weird friendship chain.

There isn’t really any more of this that Chan can take, so while everyone is distracted cooing over Superboy (like Joshua, there isn’t really a need for Jihoon to divulge his real name, since he didn’t even have one before the team broke him out of the weird lab where scientists had cloned him), Chan slips out of the room before he can get dragged into the mess as well.

The last thing he sees as he leaves are the interlocked hands of Soonyoung and Mingyu.

(“This is my nephew,” Green Arrow told Batman awkwardly.  Clearly uncomfortable with the idea of interacting with Chan’s imposing mentor for longer than 5 minutes, his nervousness bled through his voice in just 4 words.  Chan resisted the urge to snicker in front of him and settled for coughing into his cape.  “He’s a couple years older than Robin, but I thought they could get along.  You know.. hang out.  Whatever kids do.”

“Hm,” Batman generously donated to the conversation. Chan mentally debated whether he should help out Green Arrow or laugh in his face. 

Taking pity on Green Arrow, Chan stepped up.  “Sure,” he said, grinning confidently.  “I’ll show him the ropes.  The ins and outs of being a teen superhero.” 

“Really?!” Green Arrow’s little protégé squeaked from behind the senior superhero’s larger form.  His voice hitched embarrassingly high as he stepped forward.  “You’re so cool, Robin-sunbaenim!” 

Were all the Arrows this hilarious? “You don't have to call me that,” Chan said through wheezes, uncaring of Batman’s disapproving glower.  “There’s really no need for honorifics. Don’t be so chalant!” 

“Chalant? You mean… nonchalant?”

”Um, no? If I wanted to indicate that you were not being chalant, I would’ve said nonchalant. Does anybody know what the prefix “non” means?” 

“Robin,” Batman rumbled.  “Be nice.”

“Fine. I’m SORRY.  Note how I said “sorry” and not “nonsorry” because I was SORRY, not NOT sorry.” 

“Nonsorry isn’t a word,” said Batman.” You just sound stupid.” 

“Um… anyways… I’ll just call you Robin then?” The other boy said helplessly. Now that he wasn’t dying of nervousness, his normal voice revealed itself to be slightly deeper than Chan’s. 

“Alright, alright,” Chan grumbled sheepishly.  “Sorry if I was too harsh. So, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m Soonyoung.” 

“UM,” grunted Batman. 

“HOSHI!  That’s what I said!  No one heard anything before that part. Soonyoung? Who dat?  I’m Tiger’s Gaze Hoshi and nothing else!” 

Hoshi began to wring his hands furiously, looking anywhere but Chan and Batman. Green Arrow’s expression could only be described as a combination of stressed soccer mom about to scold her child for embarrassing her in front of the rest of the PTA and an 18th century French Bourgeois awaiting execution.  

“Hoshi?” Chan asked, tactically ignoring the abashed boy’s spluttered assurances that he had no idea who Soonyoung was.  “That’s not an archery related code name.  Why’d you choose it?”

“A-ah,” Hoshi stutters, throwing Chan a pathetically grateful look for the obvious topic change.  “Well, I really like tigers, so I chose the meaning “Tiger’s Gaze” cause I wanted my aim to be as true as the sharp eyesight of a predator.”)

Later, after his friends have calmed down (most importantly, when Soonyoung calms down), Chan returns to his room, not because he is a sulking child. In fact, he is definitely not sulking and he is definitely not a child.  

Is it unfair of him to keep his identity so hidden, so secret?  A selfish guilt threatens to overwhelm him.  Maybe it's worse because they revealed their truths to him.  But he never asked them to.

He closes his eyes.  It seems like a good time to not think any thoughts for a couple hours, at least. Unfortunately, his dreams of a peaceful existence without the presence of other living humans are dashed by knock on the door.  

“Robin?” says a voice at the door. 

Chan groans, slowly pulling himself up into a sitting position on his bed.  If his unexpected visitor turns out to be Hoshi, Chan might scream. “Come in,” he says warily.

A figure taller than Hoshi pops his head in Chan's room.  It’s Aqualad, their wonderful and meddling leader. 

“You left pretty suddenly there, Robin.” he remarks.  

“Why do you care,” Chan retorts, but he regrets it immediately.  Yes, Aqualad was being nosy, but he had the Team’s best interests at heart, didn’t he?  Including Chan.

Aqualad hums but doesn’t say anything.  Instead, he moves forward to sit next to Chan on his bed.  He places his hands on his lap and laces them together politely.  The gesture is strangely childlike.  

After a moment of silence, Chan lays back down on his bed so that he’s facing the ceiling.  There’s no indication that Aqualad will speak anytime soon, so Chan feels as if he’s entitled to ignore his unwanted guest.

Finally, Aqualad breaks the silence.  “My real name is Wonwoo,” he reveals, to both Chan’s chagrin and surprise.  In fact, he flinches so badly at the far too truthful admission that Chan tumbles off his bed in a bid to get distance from Aqua- no, Wonwoo.  

“ What? ” He spits out dizzily from the floor.  His eyes refuse to focus correctly, just as the room refuses to stop spinning.  “ Why?!  W-”

“-onwoo,”  Aqualad finishes smoothly for him.  “Yes, that’s my name.”

“That’s not what I was going to say!” Chan grumbles, mind still reeling.  He pushes himself off the floor and stares accusingly at Wonwoo.  “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t care enough to ask. Why are you telling me this so suddenly?”

“I know,” Wonwoo continues in that aggravatingly mild tone he’s kept up for the entire conversation.  “But I’m telling you out of my own free will.  Because I want to.  And you don’t have any obligation to return to favor, but now you just have some extra information.”  He offers a tiny half-smile.  “Don’t you like knowing everything?”

Chan’s face reddens at the implications.  Sure, he’s got access to all the cameras in their hideout, and he hacks the Batcomputer for information all the time, but implying that he enjoys being some kind of nosy voyeur is a fucking stretch.

“D-did you spill your heart to the whole team while I was gone and decided that I should be subject to your unmasked self as well?!” he demands.  His mild stutter belies his unwarranted nervousness.

Wonwoo shakes his head.  “I haven’t told anyone else.  Just you.”   He tilts his head.  “I might tell the others though.  Maybe later, there’s no need now.”

Damn that Aqualad.  Does he even realize how that sounds?

“Then--why?”

“Didn’t I just explain that to you?” Wonwoo scolds, maintaining his small smile.  “You should listen to others more, Robin. I think you could really benefit from that.” 

Chan doesn’t need this half-assed mother-henning from a man whom he saw riding a toy horse made for children, leader or no.  

“That doesn’t explain anything.”  Chan feels an oncoming headache.  He makes a note to take some tylenol later. 

Wonwoo opts to stay silent after that, turning his smile to the window.  He unfolds his hands from his lap and offers one to Chan, who takes it reluctantly.  He grips Wonwoo’s slim fingers with unnecessary force as he hauls himself up.  Still, the gesture is mildly comforting.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” Chan admits quietly to Hansol.  

When Mingyu and Soonoung retired from the Team, Chan thought he could handle it.   As his closest friend and fellow co-founder of the team, Soonyoung had a constant source of strength and energy.  His overflowing passion and unwavering resolve melded together to create a perfect superhero, someone who could be a pillar of strength for others.  

He had been Chan’s pillar of strength too, in nights before Chan had the Team. The awful loneliness from being a mere child trapped in a large, yawning mansion with only the formidable Batman for company had nearly crushed him. Soonyoung had always been there for him -- whenever Chan got injured on patrol for being too headstrong, rushing into situations too quickly, he could always find a home in Soonyoung. Without Soonyoung’s guidance, Chan wasn’t sure what he would’ve done.

(“I’ve been a superhero longer than you have, you know.  I don’t need you to take care of me all the time.”  Chan sniffled into the stiff spandex of Hoshi’s uniform.  It’s barely even a uniform, a dark green crop top with a vague arrow-shaped blob to indicate his relation to Green Arrow and matching green tights.  The ridiculousness of his friend’s costume forced a wet chuckle out of Chan’s throat.

“Yes, you’re such a big strong hero boy,”  Hoshi cooed at him insincerely. 

“That’s right,” Chan sniffed.  “I’m your fucking oppa.”

“Of course you are,” he murmured. “Of course you are.”  Hoshi buried his nose in Chan’s hair and squeezed his arms around Chan. 

“Can’t, breathe,” Chan panted. Hoshi ignored him until he began to mime choking. With a ruffling of his hair, Hoshi pulled back with a Cheshire-like grin. “You’re like a fucking octopus,” Chan complained. 

“Aw, Robin. I love you.”

“Ew, Soonyoung,” said Chan. “And I said you were hugging like an octopus, I didn’t say stop hugging me.” 

“You do love me!” declared Hoshi, throwing his arms around Chan...as gently as he had ever done. Which was to say, he could technically breathe. 

“Shut up! You’re so sensitive.” He felt a soothing warmth spread through his body emanating from Soonyoung’s secure grip around him, and sighed. He felt Soonyoung smile against his shoulder in response.)

“It’s too hard without Soonyoung and Mingyu here,” Chan tells Hansol.  It’s a half truth, a rawer and truthful “ I can’t do this without Soonyoung ” lying beneath, but Hansol’s large, brown eyes blink trustingly at Chan, filled with empathy and support.  In face of that, Chan can’t do anything but keep lying.  

“I’m sorry,”  Hansol says sincerely, “I truly am.  They were a vital part of this team and we won’t function the same way without them.  But they freely chose this life, to put themselves in danger everyday just for the slightest chance of helping people, and they can choose to leave it anytime.  We all could, you know.” He gestures his arms around Mt. Justice’s empty common room, scooching closer to Chan at the same time.  “But ....some of us won’t.  And some of us will, and it doesn’t make us anything less for whatever we choose.  So we just have to make the best of each of our choices, and try to support our friends on whatever they do.”

“I know that,” he says harshly, then tries to relax his tone.  Hansol doesn’t deserve that, doesn’t deserve Chan’s misplaced ire.  “Sorry,” he apologizes.

Hansol blinks slowly.  “You’re angry,” he notes.

No shit, Chan wants to yell, Of course I’m fucking angry.  After everything that we’ve been through, after everything that the Team has gone through, and Soonyoung decides we’re not worth it anymore?  We’re too much trouble for him now? 

And in the back of his mind, he hears the whisper of a smaller, more shameful part of him: What am I supposed to do without him ?  Did I really matter that little to him?

“I’m not,” he tells Hansol, and he wishes it were true because if Chan’s angry, then what does that say about him?  That he’s a selfish monster, a clingy, dependant child?  No, Chan’s spent too long painstakingly deconstructing that part of himself to regress to such a shameful state.

“Soonyoung’s happier this way.  I’m proud of him,” Chan says to Hansol, but it sounds fake to his own ears.  He glances down at his twined hands on his lap and wishes for the comforting pressure of someone else’s fingers gripping his.  Anything to ground him.  

“What about Mingyu?”  Hansol asks, “You haven’t said a word about him.”

What about Mingyu, Chan almost snarls, but composes himself in time.  His bitterness towards Mingyu is entirely unjustified, but Chan can’t help the jealous stab he feels whenever Mingyu leans over to press a kiss on Soonyoung's pink lips.

“I’m proud of him too,” he says mechanically, “It was a hard decision, but if he and Soonyoung have each other, I’m sure they’ll lead fulfilling futures as civilians.”  

Truth rings in his words as well as bitter grief.

You wanted to be the leader, right?  says his rational side. So act like one!

Chan stands abruptly, cutting off whatever Hansol opened his mouth to do.  He paces for a few seconds, hands fisted in his pocket.  He takes a breath.

“Did you know Batman’s found another kid?” He says suddenly.  “Another orphan trapped in Gotham’s underbelly.  Caught him stealing the tires straight off the Batmobile.  Can you believe it?”  He snorts.  “Kid’s got guts, that’s for sure.”

“I didn’t know that,” Hansol says quietly.  In the dark of the room, his amber eyes appear luminous, like spotlights trained on Chan.  All of a sudden, Chan feels tired, stripped raw.

“Yeah.”  He looks down, scratching the back of his head idly.  “Batman’s probably gonna train him to fight crime too.  I haven’t been around as much lately.  I think the old Bat’s gotten lonely.”

“So.. a second Robin?” 

“Something like that,” Chan sighs.  “I’ll need a new codename, if that’s the case.  Can’t stay a robin forever.”  

Hansol hums in agreement, looking down at his lap.  Without the pressure of Hansol’s eyes, Chan takes the moment to study the soft, dark-brown tufts of curly hair that fall in front of Hansol’s face.  His bangs hide away stern eyebrows, leaving downturned eyes and delicate lashes.

I could tell him right now.  My real name, my secret identity.  Hansol is kind.  He won’t tell anyone. 

No, you won’t, says his more rational self.

Hansol looks back up at him and the moment is broken.  “I’m gonna go check on Aqualad,” he says.  “He’s been in his room all day.  Wanna come too?

“Nah,” Chan says automatically, then winces when he sees Hansol turn.  “Wait-- Rocket.”  He says weakly.  The shift back to code names hangs in the air.  “I’ll come.”

(“I know your secret identity,” Aqualad said blandly as he walked into the kitchen.  Chan shrieked and almost fell off the counter stool.  He balanced his tablet precariously on the tips of his gloves.

“No, you don’t,” said Chan calmly.  

He surreptitiously glanced at the cameras of Mt. Justice on his tablet to see if anyone was around.  After all, Superboy’s ears were never turned off, and it was better to be safe than sorry.  Thankfully, Superboy and Miss Martian had gone on an “outing” that afternoon, leaving the Mountain empty except for Aqualad, Robin, and Hoshi.  Kid Flash, the lazy bastard, had skipped the Team’s training after school in favor of the so-called “Science Olympiad.”  

“Yeah I do,” Aqualad gave a lazy half-smile as he puttered around the kitchen.  He deftly picked up a shiny kettle from a cabinet and filled it with tap water from the sink.  Chan glared mutinously at the back of Aqualad’s head, with his stupid, fluffy hair.

“You’re bluffing,” he shot back, perching back on the stool.  “ No one knows my real name.  I’m mysterious like that.”

“Ah, well,” Aqualad said delicately.  “That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid.  Because I exist.  And I know your secret identity.”

“Maybe you’re ‘no one.’” Chan grumbled.  He started to relax a little more after the scare Aqualad gave him, and his attention regretfully locked onto the gentle motion of Aqualad’s pale fingers wrapped around the handle of the kettle.  

“I’m someone,” Aqualad mock-whined. “Someone to you at least. Why won’t you acknowledge our relationship, Robin?”

Chan’s traitorous mouth opened before he could rationally suppress his answer.  “I’ll acknowledge it when you start doing your share of the household chores instead of playing video games all day.”  He snipped back instead and felt an instant surge of regret.

It’s too late, the beginnings of a self-important smirk has already spread across Aqualad’s face (his bare face, not covered by any sort of mask, letting allies and enemies alike truly see Aqualad’s delicate facial structure and sharp eyes.  Why would he willingly expose such a revealing part of himself to everyone?  The vulnerability made Chan’s skin crawl.)

“Robin,” he purred (PURRED.  Like a goddamn CAT.  Chan may or may not be losing his mind). “Sharing such intimate details of our relationship?  How daring.”

Intimate my ASS was Chan’s knee-jerk response but he didn't want Aqualad to know much the meaningless flirting was affecting him.  He resolutely stared at the kettle on the stovetop until he felt composed enough to answer.

“Sorry honey,” he cooed brightly, “I’ll try to be more considerate of your feelings next time.”  

Much to his delight, Aqualad’s face gained two twin spots of flush on each cheek at the pet name.  However, this didn’t stop him from chirping back a response.  

“You always say that,” Aqualad sniffled, brushing away stray tears and holy shit when did Aqualad start fucking CRYING Chan wasn’t equipped to deal with that!!!  “You always promise to change, but your trust issues get between us every time. Honestly, is our relationship even worth it to you?” 

Oh.  He was just acting.  Aqualad was a really good actor.  Chan filed that information away for a later date.

“Of course it’s worth it to me,” Chan played along, curious to how this would turn out.  “ You're worth it to me.  How could you not be?”

“Are you sure?  Then how come you don’t trust me enough to tell me your real name?  I still call you by the fake name you adopted as part of Witness Protection!”  

Where the fuck is this going, Chan mouthed to himself. 

“Baby,” he said sincerely (Aqualad’s not the only actor in the room.  Chan happens to be an excellent actor as well.) “I had no idea that was weighing so heavily on you.  If it matters that much to you, I’ll tell you.”  He took a deep breath.  Really, where was this going? No one provided him with an answer.  In any case, it was hitting far too close to home.

“My real name is—“

The sudden screech of the forgotten kettle cut Chan’s line off.  Both boys startled, but Aqualad, who had seemed far more immersed in the impromptu role play, fared worse than Chan.  Letting out a cat-like yelp, Aqualad had stumbled back just a fraction, but he was standing close enough to the stove that his hand briefly made contact with the hot metal.  He jerked his hand away with a pained hiss.

“Woah, you okay?” Chan asked.

Aqualad ran cold tap water over his hand, quietly sighing with relief as the burn healed slightly.

“Yeah.  Atlantean, remember?  A minor burn like this is just an inconvenience.”

I know, Chan thought, but it didn’t keep him from steadily observing the red blemish on Aqualad’s hands.

“Anyway,” he said instead because he loved saying the next awkward thing in an interrupted moment, “Wh-what” he coughed “did you come in for again?”

“Oh yeah,” Aqualad scratched his head. “I figured out your secret identity.”  The air somehow felt stale.

“Huh,” was Chan’s lackluster reply. 

Aqualad seemed to be gearing up for something.  “Your superhero identity is Robin, but I know your real name.”

Was Aqualad moving closer to him?  He was definitely closer to Chan than he was before.

“Your real-” three steps away “name-“ two steps away “is-“ one step and an arm’s length away, an outstretched hand? “Cutie pie.” Zero steps away and Aqualad’s hand patting Chan’s head.)

(A tug at his arm had stopped him from drowning in self-pity.  He looked up, not knowing what he was hoping for, but knowing that he would be disappointed.  Eight’s soft oval face met his gaze.

“Might as well,” Minghao shrugged.  

Might as well what, Chan wants to say, but is stopped by the gentle grip on his shoulder propelling him forward.  Eight’s face is suddenly a lot closer than it was before.  Chan’s heart staccatos roughly.

“W-wait,” he stuttered out.  The automated countdown continued to robotically announce seconds till midnight, but his fuzzy mind blocked out the actual words.  

“Wait?” Minghao asked patiently.  His dark eyes stared pointedly at Chan.  Every exhale Minghao took left a puff of warm air on Chan’s lips.

Though his vision was thoroughly blocked by Minghao, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wonwoo’s tall figure, tucked away in the corner next to Hansol.  They appeared to have been in the middle of discussing their latest battle, but had gotten distracted by the New Year’s countdown like the rest of them.  

Wonwoo’s back was to him; from this angle, Chan could only see Hansol’s closed eyelids and dark eyelashes, trembling slightly like a butterfly’s wings, as he leaned up towards Wonwoo. 

“Oh,” he murmured to himself. He refocused on Minghao’s waiting gaze. “Okay.”

He reached his hand out to rest against the nape of Minghao’s neck and gently led his face closer to Chan’s.  Taking his permission, Minghao leaned forward to chastely press a kiss on the corner of Chan’s mouth, lips curved up in a smile.  The countdown announced its last number: “One!”

“Happy New Year,” Minghao said against his cheek before drawing back.) 

Sunday was always his day to see Soonyoung and Mingyu again.  It had been roughly a year since they left the Team, but Chan tried to make time to visit them as often as he could.  Sometimes he went by himself, and other times he brought along other friends.  In return, Soonyoung and Mingyu tried to free up as much time as possible, living as uni students.  

This Sunday, however, Chan had ulterior motives for visiting.

As usual, he arrived at their apartment promptly, and as usual, Soonyoung welcomed him in with a beam, and as usual, Mingyu was waiting for him in the living room on the couch.  As usual, they made smalltalk, and as usual, Soonyoung asked about the Team.  

“Actually,” he confessed, gripping his hands tightly.  “Something rather significant happened.”

Soonyoung and Mingyu exchange worried glances. 

“How so?” Mingyu leans forward.

“Aqualad betrayed the team.” he spits out hurriedly. Seeing the twin looks of anger and confusion on their faces, Chan raises a hand as a bid to placate them.  “Please don’t misunderstand,” he rushes. “I’ll explain further.”

“Misunderstand?” Mingyu practically growls, “What’s there to misunderstand!  Our trustworthy former leader turned out to be a treacherous little--” 

“Most importantly,” Soonyoung cuts him off, “Are you okay, Robin?”

“Nightwing,” he corrects absentmindedly, and then flustered, corrects him again. “Chan.”  Then he processes Sooyoung's words.  “Me?!” he yelps, thrown off. He stares embarrassed at his friends, his previous motive completely forgotten.  “Why are you concerned about me specifically?”

“Well,” Soonyoung begins, looking a little sheepish, “Didn’t you have a crush on him?”

Chan does nothing but stare.  The sheer audacity his first real crush had, to make assumptions about him like that.  Soonyoung’s bewildering observation does nothing for his broiling nerves, leaving him bowled over and untethered.  

“What makes you say that?” He demands, brain buzzing with static noises.  “H-how did you come to that conclusion?”  Embarrassingly enough, his voice cracks, which probably erases his cool and serious exterior that he tried so hard to foster for Soonyoung and Mingyu.

“You guys were always flirting during mission briefings,” Mingyu chimes in. “Also, you guys assume you’re alone too much.”

Soonyoung snaps his fingers in remembrance.  “And whenever you brought him over to our house, it was like you forgot that you were there to visit us, not stare at Wonwoo.” 

“I did not stare at him,” Chan objects, mind half there.  In horrible clarity, he recalls the first visit he made to Soonyoung and Mingyu’s apartment.  Still desperately in love with Soonyoung, he had demanded the company of Wonwoo as a barrier between him and the couple.  Wonwoo, the helpful bastard, had easily agreed to come with Chan and had been perfect and considerate of Chan’s feelings the entire evening and even left early with him when he couldn’t stomach the sight of Soonyoung kissing Mingyu anymore.  And-

Fuck.

“Remember the New Year when Mingyu and I got together?”  Soonyoung rambles on.  “I really thought that you and Wonwoo were going to kiss each other too.  If not because you guys were balls enough to act on your feelings, but at least for tradition, y’know?”

Chan remembers that New Year’s with bitter clarity.  Bitter, because the sight of Mingyu carefully holding Soonyoung in his arms as Soonyoung wound his arms around the speedster’s neck, leaning in for a kiss, was burned into his heart, and clear, because his mind wouldn’t him forget and his head wouldn’t let him look away.  

“He probably didn’t want to kiss me,” Chan says automatically, tone more biting then he meant.  He winces.  “Wait--stop!  This isn’t about my non-existent crush on Aqualad!”  

What were they talking about before? Wasn’t Chan here to ask Soonyoung for a dangerous and grave favor?

“Don’t you guys want me to explain why Aqualad defected to join Black Manta?” he pleads.

“I am kind of angry about that,” Mingyu grumbles, leaning back.  “And you were going to tell us earlier.”

Chan exhaled in relief.  Things were going back on track.

“Aqualad’s a double agent,” he tells them. Their expressions turn startled, then understanding. “Our enemy, the Light, is growing too strong, so I needed to create a better plan to gain an upper hand.  If I send Aqualad undercover, we can uncover so many more enemy secrets and stay one step ahead.  They’ve grudgingly given him their trust because Black Manta is his father, so he’s gathering intel for the Team.  But we can’t let anyone know.”

“I feel bad now,” said Mingyu. “For calling your crush a whore.”

Chan ignores him. “Do you trust me?” 

Soonyoung and Mingyu exchange a glance.  “Yes, we do….I think,” says Soonyoung. “Why are you telling us, though?  We’ve retired from superhero life.”

Here was the hard part.  Mingyu was not going to like this, but it was the best plan Wonwoo and Chan could find.  

“Well,” he hedges. “I need your help, Soonyoung.  To go undercover with him as backup.”

Mingyu shoots straight up at superspeed.  “ Absolutely not! ”

Less fazed than his boyfriend, Soonyoung leans forwards.  “Why me?”

“I trust you.  You’re one of the founding members of the Team, you have the mental strength to go undercover in enemy hands, and you have experience dealing with villains upclose  I need your help, Soonyoung.”

“I see.  And how would I be able to disguise myself and keep the others from figuring out why I’m suddenly gone?”

“We fake your death.  Frame it as a brief mission with the team for old time’s sake that goes sour.  Not anticipating the attack and out of practice, you succumb to fatal wounds.  Everyone thinks you’ve died, and we disguise you as a lieutenant of Aqualad.”

Soonyoung nods.  He’s taking the plan surprisingly well, sliding back into the role of hero easily.  Something in the dyed-blond haired boy must have been waiting for a chance to slip back into this role.  But, maybe it was just Chan’s hopes talking.

Soonyoung’s compliance for this role and eagerness to become Hoshi again motivates Chan.  This crazy plan might have a chance for working.  No, it had to work.  Besides, Wonwoo had already slipped into his role as filial and bloodthirsty son to Black Manta.  There was no backing out at this point.  Chan hopes that Soonyoung understood this.

“Hold on,” Mingyu interjects, looking a little less put out but still irritated.  “Why does Soonyoung need to go undercover with Wonwoo?  Can’t Aqualad handle it himself?”

“It’s dangerous,” Chan answers truthfully.  He looks down, a little guilty that he can only give them vague, worrying answers.  It’s all true though.  “There’s a lot we don’t know about our enemy.  It would be safer for Wonwoo if he had someone else with him.  Plus...It’s not as if Aqualad is automatically trusted by his father.  He needs to prove his worth and devotion to the Light in order to gain higher access.  Killing Hoshi would boost his reputation and solidify his loyalty to his father.”

“That makes sense,” Soonyoung nods, though Mingyu still doesn’t look convinced.

“I still don’t like this,” Mingu concludes, but he’s stopped giving Chan an icy glare.  

Chan leans forward.  One final push to convince the two.  “If not for me, then for Wonwoo.  He’s in dangerous territory.  Isn’t it only fair to save him, like he has saved us countless times?” 

Soonyoung smiles.  “You really care about him, huh.” he says softly.  “That’s good to hear.”

(“Robin, robin!” Rocket called out to him after training.  Normally, Chan would welcome his cheerful teammate’s invitation to chat or hang out, but today he’s irritated.  Wonwoo had brought his Atlantean friend to meet the Team today.  That wouldn’t have bothered him, but Wonwoo had spent the whole time fawning over this Jun fellow.  What was so special about him anyway?  

The sight of Rocket was only fuel to the fire.  The brown-haired boy had spent training time sending kicked-puppy looks to Aqualad and desperately seeking every opportunity to get Wonwoo’s attention on him.  Between his Atlantean friend and Hansol, Wonwoo’s attention was completely monopolized.  Or duoopolized.

“What’s up, Rocket?” He sighed, trying to mask his irritation.  There was no good reason for him to be so bothered, after all.

“Just wanted to hang out, that’s all!”  Hansol smiled brightly.

“Sure.”  With luck, this would be the perfect distraction to forget about this afternoon’s training session.  

“Great!”  Hansol bounds up next to him and falls into an easy step with him.  “To be honest,” he bites his lip, “I kind of wanted to talk to you.  Can we go to a cafe in town?”

“That’s fine.”

The other boy brightened up considerably at his agreement and clung to his arm with renewed cheerfulness.  He started rambling about unimportant matters, causing Chan to relax.  It seemed as if this outing with Rocket would help him forget about the disastrous training session after all.

When they arrived at the cafe, Hansol’s mannerisms grew more nervous.  He quickly flagged a table and ordered for both of them.  Chan let him; his friend knew his tastes anyway. 

Now that ordering was over with, Hansol drummed his fingers against the table.  He ducked his head, glancing at Chan from beneath his eyelashes and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.  

“About this afternoon..” he began. “What did you think about Jun?” He bites his lip.  “Did you think that.. Um.. he and Wonwoo… umm..” Hansol’s face burst into flames.  He really couldn’t meet Chan’s gaze at all.  

Chan held up a hand.  “You don’t have to say anything more.”  He was trying to keep his voice calm and indifferent, but he knew his voice was still a little rough.  There was no use showing how bothered he truly felt.  He heaved a sigh.  “I noticed how.. swept up Aqualad seemed in his friend as well.”

Hansol’s eyes widened, looking up to meet Chan’s steady gaze.  “You too!?  Now I feel better about the strange feeling in my chest when I observed them.  He really only had eyes for Jun…”

“I understand.”

Hansol looked back down at the table.  The drumming of his fingers increased.  “After New Year’s Eve, I really thought things would be different between me and him,” he sighed, oblivious to Chan’s change in heart rate.  “But he’s suddenly started ignoring me when we’re alone.  It’s like nothing’s changed.”

Ah.  The New Year’s kiss.  It wasn’t just Soonyoung and Mingyu that had formed a relationship with a kiss that night, but Wonwoo had also placed his lips against Hansol’s.

Hansol raised his head suddenly, meeting Chan’s surprised eyes with his own, tinged with desperation.  “M-maybe he’s been avoiding me because he likes that Jun!  I could accept losing to a handsome guy like him!  Hyung probably thinks I’m not pretty enough.. I’m okay with that.”

“You’re very pretty, Hansol.”  Hansol’s eyes widened alongside Chan as they shared surprise for the honest reply that Chan really wasn’t expecting to come out of his mouth.  Hansol immediately flushed pink, but he couldn't turn his wide, amber eyes away.  

“T-thank you, Robin,” Hansol stammered, “But you don’t have to say these things just to make me feel better…”

A sudden flash of anger shot through Chan.  What right did Aqualad have to destroy his friend’s self-confidence like that?  Where did he get off kissing Hansol one moment and ignoring the other boy the next?  Shoving his underwater boyfriend in front of Hansol’s face was an unneeded ego-crumbler too.

“Aqualad doesn’t deserve you,” he declared rashly, reaching his hands forward to quell the nervous drumming of Hansol’s fingers.  He gripped them gently and felt the shaking stop.  “He already kissed you, didn’t he?  There’s nothing we can do to erase the past.  But-”

Chan leaned across the table, maintaining eye contact with a flushed Hansol while doing so.  “There’s something we can do to forget about New Year’s,” he said, calm tone belying his nerves.  “If I kiss you-” their faces were so close together “-that will cover his kiss-” their noses touched “-right?” 

Their lips brushed.  Chan pulled away with a self-satisfied smirk.)

Meeting up with Wonwoo is awkward after Chan’s revelation triggered by his visit to Soonyoung and Mingyu. However, it couldn’t be helped.  He needed to inform Wonwoo of the secured cooperation of Soonyoung.

The night is quiet when he slips out of the shadows to stride into an abandoned building near the docks of Happy Harbour.  He shuts the door quickly and steps his way through the dark building until he finds the winding staircases in the back of the building that lead to the roof.

Wonwoo’s back is to Chan when he emerges to the cool night air.  His profile, illuminated by the moonlight, blocks the luminous moon and renders his features unreadable to Chan.  The shift in the air caused by Chan’s movements seems to reach Wonwoo.  He turns, face obscured in the shadows, but Chan, hyper aware of every one of Aqualad’s twitches after his disastrous realization, can still catch the gleam in his eyes before it’s snuffed out.

“Nightwing,” Wonwoo greets him.  

Chan scratches the back of his head.  “You don’t have to call me that, you know,” he says.

“I think I’ll stick with codenames.  Better safe than sorry,” Wonwoo says, flashing the smallest smile before turning away.

Satisfied with the tiny hint of emotion that he’d gotten out of Wonwoo, Chan strode towards the edge of the roof with renewed vigor..

“You’re right,” he agrees easily, “We need to be careful about this charade, especially since my plan is in its fledgling stages.  The Light doesn’t fully trust you yet.”

Wonwoo gives a quiet snort.  “‘Fledgling?’  Was that a pun I heard, dear leader Night wing ?”

He would hate Wonwoo’s pun except.. He hasn’t heard Wonwoo laugh since their plot started.  Seeing Wonwoo retain at least a remnant of his old, playful self was satisfying.  

“Never on purpose,” he responds instead because he doesn’t want to face the possibility that maybe he’s the reason Aqualad hasn’t been as happy recently.  “I’ll leave the bad puns to you, thank you very much.”

The silence slinks back in like an insidious presence.  Wonwoo’s cheer fades as he looks out over the rooftop.

“I brought some good news.”  Chan says finally, remembering what he came here to do.  “Soonyoung agreed to join our plan.  We can finally set in motion the ploy to “kill” Hoshi.”

Wonwoo doesn’t look as happy as Chan thought he’d be, but then again, the prospect of killing their close friend, even though it’s fake, must not be the most pleasant.  

“Oh,” he says finally, looking down.  “Anything else?” 

“Uh.” Chan says eloquently.  I have a crush on you.  I think I’ve liked you for the longest time but never realized it.  I wish I’d gotten my head out of my ass to realize this sooner, before you became all sad and it was my fault.

“Nothing else.”  He spits out after the silence becomes awkward.

Wonwoo stares at him like he doesn’t quite believe Chan.  “Sure.” The doubt in his voice is very much unappreciated by Chan.  “What about the next meeting time?”

Silently, Chan curses himself for almost forgetting such a vital detail.  He roots around his utility belt looking for the pre-prepared slip of paper where he wrote an address and time for their next rendez-vous, this time with the addition of Hoshi.  Curiously, he finds the slip lying next to a chamomile tea bag that he does not remember placing in his utility belt. It was probably snuck into his belt by a concerned teammate not so subtly nudging him to “go the fuck to sleep” or something like that.  He ignores it.

He brandishes the paper with unnecessary force in Wonwoo’s direction, which the other boy takes with a slight smirk that says he noticed the extra strength put into brandishing the paper.

Regrettably, Chan finds his eyes drawn to the elegant motion of Wonwoo’s fingers as they pluck the paper between two fingers with the same grace one would afford of picking a flower.

“See you then,”  Chan says.  His mouth is dry.  Somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.  But Wonwoo yields him an upward twist of the mouth, so maybe it is.

“Everything going according to plan?” Chan asks.  Really, it was only for pleasantries.  The plan was only just starting out, nothing could be going wrong yet.  But it couldn’t hurt to make sure.  

Soonyoung gives an unsteady nod.  The flickering lights in the dusty storage room that they met up in for secrecy gave his face a pale, sickly look.  But it could just be the aftereffects of the fact that Aqualad has just pretended to stab and kill Soonyoung.  

Mingyu, who had insisted on coming along even though he barely played a part, crossed his arms.  “I checked with the team,” he said tersely.  “They believe that Soonyoung’s dead and that Wonwoo’s really gone to the villain’s side.  Joshua is particularly distraught.”  he looks down.  “It doesn’t feel good to lie to them.  Are you sure we can’t tell them?”

“I’m the leader.”  Chan reminds him.  “They don’t need to know.”

Wonwoo chooses this moment to enter.  As always, it’s a shock to see him decked out in smooth black armor that mimics Blank Manta’s preferred attire, but if the plan works, then Chan will have to get used to seeing Wonwoo like this.  His face is covered by a black helmet as well, that he takes off as soon as he reaches them.

“The plan’s in motion,” he says flatly, almost robotically. “Black Manta trusts me fully now.”

“That’s good to hear.”  Chan looks down, unwilling to meet Wonwoo’s eyes.  He wonders if he should feel guilty, for being the one to propose this plan, for being the one to steal the quiet cheer from Wonwoo’s voice.  However, Chan’s the leader of their team, now that Aqualad’s defected.  He should be stronger, more reliable, not second guess himself.  Wasn’t he desperate to lead before?  

He reaches into his utility belt and pulls out a simple necklace with a pale blue diamond resting on the string.  He had gotten the necklace from Eight, pleaded with the other boy to spell a disguising charm on the gem while refusing to explain why he needed it.  Minghao had given him a critical eye and suspicious snort, but had completed the task without asking any more questions.  Maybe this was the power that a leader wielded.  Eight had also insisted that the gem was a real diamond, but Chan had his doubts.  Eight was a notorious cheapskate.  

He hands it to Hoshi.  The necklace should disguise the other boy better than a mask could and completely change his features.  Sure enough, just as Soonyoung clips it around his neck, an illusion falls over his face.  His previously dyed blonde hair, done as soon as he started college, turned into the familiar black color it was when Soonyoung was active as Hoshi.  His distinctive slanted eyes transformed into an almond shape, and his full cheeks smoothed down.  Soon, Hoshi had disappeared completely under a new persona.

“Have you decided on a new codename?”  Chan asked.

“Tiger,” Soonyoung suggests, and laughs to himself like it’s a funny joke.

Mingyu slaps his shoulder, but has brightened considerably.  “You’re not creative at all, ” he giggles, “That basically has the same meaning as Hoshi!  Do you want to get caught or what?”

Soonyoung shoves his boyfriend back, but misses when Mingyu dances out of the way at superspeed.  “Tigers are cool, okay?  Doesn’t it sound menacing?”  He forms a tiger’s paw with his hands and growls in an effort to look cool.  

He looks like an overgrown housecat, Chan thinks to himself, waiting for a familiar rush of fondness to come.  It does, but to Chan’s surprise, it’s not the overwhelming hot rush of adolescent pining that he’s become accustomed to.  Instead, it’s transitioned to a warmer, friendlier stream of affection.  

“Tiger’s fine,” Wonwoo says.  Chan almost jumps in fright because he’s forgotten about the other boy, standing--no, practically leaning--against a storage shelf, regarding the trio with tired eyes.  “That works as a codename.”

“Someone appreciates me,” Soonyoung sniffs, but he’s taken notice of the gloominess surrounding Wonwoo.  “A-anyway.  We should get going.  It’s suspicious if we keep standing around here.”

Chan nods.  Soonyoung and Mingyu share one last kiss before he joins Wonwoo’s side.  Chan swallows, somewhat nervous to meet Aqualad’s gaze.  “Stay safe,” he tells them.

“Sure thing, Nightwing!”  Soonyoung chirps at the same time that Wonwoo offers him a tiny word of acknowledgement.  They leave the storage room and disappear into the night.

Chan returns to find Mt. Justice a total mess.  Not a surprise, considering what recently happened, but he’s still not used to everyone’s faces turning towards him automatically.

“Nightwing,” Joshua gasps out, flying to his side the moment he steps into the room.  “H-how’s Mingyu holding up?  I was going to visit him, but-” he bites his lip.  “Um, I! I dunno.  It didn’t feel right to go alone.  Seeing him without Soonyoung by his side for the first time in years--it’s unnatural.  I don’t think I could face him like that.”  His face crumples, and he tucks his cape around him.  “Is that wrong of me?  I think it might be selfish.”

He’s looking at Chan now, face open and honest, and for a moment, Chan wonders if it’s really alright to keep lying to them like this.  But Chan isn’t the same person he was when he donned the Robin mask, now he hides under the mask of “Nightwing” and “leader.”  

“It’s alright, Miss M.” he tells Joshua.  He reaches a hand up and pulls Joshua back to the ground from where he was floating.  “I think Mingyu would understand.  You shouldn’t push yourself.”

Joshua lets out a shaky breath.  “You’re right, Chan.  Thank you.”  

No matter how much time passes since he told the Team, he still can’t get used to them calling him by his real name.  “Nightwing” wasn't a large stretch from Robin, but hearing “Chan” from the mouths of his teammates. Well.

“Besides,” he manages a small smile.  “You’ll get your chance for revenge.  We’ll go on another mission soon enough.”

Miss Martian’s eyes burn with barely concealed rage.  He clenches a fist.  “T-that’s right!  It was all Aqualad’s fault!  How could he betray us like that, and then kill our friend?  If I ever see him again--!”  Joshua seems to calm down a little after releasing his anger.  He pastes a bright smile on his face.  “Thanks, leader.  Somehow, I feel okay relying on you even though you’re younger.  Our reliable Channie, huh?”

“Thanks, Shua,” he says. 

Infiltrating Black Manta’s submarine was a mission Joshua had been looking forward to all week.  Sure, he was concerned about his kidnapped teammates, but underneath lay boiling rage towards their once beloved leader.  It went against the sweet and kind image he tried to lay out for the sake of his younger teammates, yet Joshua couldn’t help his vengeful rage.

Nightwing split them up into efficient teams once they’d landed the Bio-ship against Black Manta’s “Manta-Flyer.”  Seeing how reliable Nightwing was, Joshua couldn’t help the fondness in his chest.  How their little Robin had grown up so well.

“Don’t forget to set up a Psychic Link,”  Chan orders.

“Got it.”  Soon enough, the familiar pressure of his teammates settle in his head as their presences ease next to each other.

Can everyone hear me?  

He gets affirmative answers back.   

Miss M, you go first and try and contact the team in the docking bay.  Superboy and I will lead the rest in after.  Chan ordered.

Joshua exits their bio-ship carefully, taking care not to be seen in the water.  Martian shapeshifting superpowers really do come in handy in times of stealth.

He mentally calls out to his teammates inside of the submarine, mind reaching out for any mental trace of their stealth operatives.  His psychic link searches the enemy ship, trying to connect to the minds of the squad inside.  

Suddenly, his psychic link brushes upon a familiar, yet hated presence: Aqualad.  After years of easily connecting his mind with Aqualad’s, his psychic link tries to link them up like a habit. Joshua quickly crushes the infant connection before it forms, heart racing.  He gasps, folding into himself --- the betrayal was too fresh, too sharp.  Images of Wonwoo stabbing Soonyoung right in the chest surface like the rising bubbles in the ocean that appear when he opens his mouth in a silent cry.  His eyes slowly track the movement of the bubbles as he tries to focus.  Joshua feels his tenuous hold on the rest of the team's psychic link slipping away from him as his mind dissolved into static.  

No, he shouts to himself, the sound echoing in the walls of his mind.  The team’s psychic link had splintered, dying out just as Chan gave a panicked order for Joshua to-- to what?  He never finished his order.

He’s all alone in his mind.  His distress overwhelms him, becoming the only emotion reverbing off the walls of his brain.  

It’s all Aqualad’s fault.  He was the cause for everyone’s pain, he took the life of one of their beloved teammate’s with the same cold eyes that once regarded Joshua warmly.  How could he? 

Anguish melts into rage.  Aqualad must pay.

Joshua slams his fist against the cold metal of the ship.  The resounding clang and the dent it leaves holds a dreadful sort of satisfaction.  Slowly, he allows the molecules of his body to melt into nothing and pass through the walls of the Manta-flyer.  He activates his camouflages and flies through the submarine, with furious intent.  

Aqualad must pay.

(Chan had contacted Wonwoo earlier with information about the planned infiltration today.  

“I will send a small team prior to our infiltration,” he had said,  “Just map out the place beforehand.  Think you can turn a blind eye to them?”

They met in the basement of a Justice League safehouse at the edges of town.  Communicating in person was risky, but safer than electronic means.  Wonwoo was afforded very little privacy with Black Manta, but at least his little trips were left unquestioned.

Wonwoo had nodded back to Chan.  What else could he do?  He didn’t want to endanger members of the Team unless he had to.  

“Then the main team will move out.  Our goal is to rescue the kidnapped metateens and our teammates.”  He flashed a wry smile.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll make sure to cause a commotion.”

“Ah.” Wonwoo’s mouth felt like sandpaper.  “I assume you’ll be needing their location?  No problem.  They’re located in the second sublevel, next to the boiler room.  The area should be mostly populated by scientists.”  He coughed. “Here, I’ll draw you a map.”

He snatched a piece of paper and pencil from one of the tables and started scribbling a rough layout of what he remembered the Manta-flyer to be.  He furrowed his brow.  “The hostages should be...here.”  He circled a region in charcoal and handed the hastily drawn map to Chan.

Chan looked a little dazed, like he’d been reminded of a fond memory.  “Oh!  Thanks, Aqualad.  That was pretty quick.  Though I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

Wonwoo made a small noise of agreement in the back of his throat.  He stiffly held the paper in the air, mentally urging for Chan to grab the map from him.  Finally, the other boy reached out shy hand to pluck the map from his hand.  

“Nightwing.”  He whispered, once the exchange had taken place.  Chan was staring up at him with wide eyes reminiscent of his younger self.  “They hate me, don’t they?  Don’t lie.”

It was a rare moment for Chan to be so dazed.  Maybe it was rude of him to take advantage of his friend’s vulnerability to satisfy his own curiosity and dread, but Chan would lie to him otherwise.  He just wanted to know.

Chan’s breath caught. He seemed truly dumbfounded, which only confirmed Wonwoo’s suspicions.  

“They do,” he breathed softly, but he couldn’t quite blame them.  Left to draw their own conclusions about his sudden betrayal, they had come to the logical endpoint that he had indeed, never really cared about the Team at all, or why else would he defect without a word or reason?  Why had he disappeared from their lives as a friend and leader so easily and reappeared as an enemy not even a minute later?  He couldn’t fault them at all, not when “killing” Hoshi only added to his list of unforgivable crimes.

“No!” Chan yelped suddenly, breaking Wonwoo out of his thoughts.  “They don’t!  How could they?  Everything you’re doing here, going against your own morals and principles, is to help us!  Without you, I don’t think we could’ve gotten this far.  I don’t think I could have gone through with half the plans I made as leader without you. Your, uh, support, that is.” He shifted his feet. 

“They don’t know that though,”  Wonwoo refuted gently.  Chan seemed genuinely distressed at the thought that Wonwoo might actually blame himself for accruing their teammates' hatred.  He didn’t want to trouble the younger boy any further, but it appeared to be too late.  Tears already started to collect in Chan’s eyes.

“If they knew,” Chan said weakly  “They wouldn’t hate you.”

Wonwoo shook his head.  He wouldn’t say it out loud, but if their teammates didn’t know, then there was no point in discussing the point further.  What-ifs were useless.  What mattered that they didn’t know, and they hated him.

“ I know.” Chan said, like he was reading Wonwoo’s thoughts.  “And I don’t hate you.  Isn’t that enough?” He offered the platitude like he already knew it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.  But it was all he was going to get.  Slowly, Wonwoo felt his facade tremble, then crumble entirely.  He stared at his fingers that had clutched into a fist without his knowledge.  Carefully, he unclenched his fist and forced some semblance of calm into his body.

Chan reached out hesitantly with a shaking hand to clasp his over Wonwoo’s in a reassuring gesture.  He brings both of Wonwoo’s hands to his own and grips Wonwoo’s fists to his chest.   All at once, Wonwoo felt all the air rush out of his lungs as his body nearly folds in on itself at the simple gesture.  Wonwoo hadn’t been touched in a long time, and selfishly, he wanted to be held as well.

Sensing the fresh vulnerability radiating off Wonwoo, Chan wrapped his arms around Wonwoo and his reassuring warmth enveloped Wonwoo.  

Oh, his brain thought, this is what I’ve been missing.  Please don’t stop.

He must have murmured the last part into the crook of Chan’s neck because the arms around him have tightened.  Rather than restrictive, the pressure was comforting, a forceful reminder of the other boy’s presence, one he sorely needed.  He was dimly aware of his own communicator with Black Manta making faint static noises as someone attempted to get in touch with him, but Chan’s warmth drowned out the world until it was just him and the boy that he was clinging onto like a lifeline.

He didn’t know how long Chan had been holding him for, but somewhere along the line Chan had sunk to the floor, carrying Wonwoo along with him in his secure grip and rested one of his hands on the back of Wonwoo’s head, the other holding the small of his back.  

“Wonwoo-” Chan said into the top of his head, voice a little breathless and muffled, embarrassment seeping in his tone., “I--I like you.  I think I do, at least.  I didn’t realize it until a little while after you went undercover.  But Soonyoung helped me realize that...even while I was so bitter and jealous and selfish, you were always by my side.”  Chan’s body stiffened a little under Wonwoo.  “Y-you don’t have to say anything right now!”  He stammered quietly.  “I’m sorry for telling you so suddenly.  But these words were stuck in my throat and the only way they could be dislodged was by telling you.”

Wonwoo stayed silent for a couple moments, head nuzzling into the pleasant warmth of Chan’s neck.  He felt the other boy’s breath hitch as Wonwoo leisurely let the confession sink in.

“Very poetic,” Wonwoo cooed into the crook of Chan’s neck.  “Used that line on any girls recently?”

“Just you,” Chan grumbled, grip tightening.  He shifted his legs to let Wonwoo curl between them more comfortably.  “I find that girls aren’t as receptive to the idea of being flirted with by a gay man as you might think.”  

“I dunno,” Wonwoo mused, “I always kind of liked the idea.”

“...I do not want to know what your search history looks like.”

Wonwoo laughed and hit Chan’s shoulder playfully.  He raised his head to make eye contact with Chan.  He met the younger boy’s gaze, suppressing a chuckle at Chan’s audible gulp.

“Not like that!  I meant that I would be the one being flirted with.”

“O-oh.  By who?”  Chan played at nonchalance.

“I don’t know.  A gay man to match me, preferably.”

“Got anyone in mind?” 

Wonwoo smirked, letting the question hang in the air as he brought his face closer to face-to-face with Chan, close enough that the tips of their noses were touching.

“You’re awfully close there, leader.” Chan commented warily, doing his best to sound unaffected.

“Shouldn’t I be calling you that?”  Wonwoo teased, enjoying the way Chan’s eyes went wide at his words.

“You could call me by my actual name, you know.”

“Okay.”  He grinned, close enough that his breath sent warm puffs on Chan’s lips.  He bridged the gap between them, pressing his lips against Chan’s parted ones gently, briefly, and then once again when Chan closed his mouth to kiss him back properly.

Wonwoo only pulled away when his lips were kissed swollen by a surprisingly experienced Chan. “I like you, Channie.” He panted, forehead touching Chan’s.  They’re still pressed together, close enough that his lips brushed Chan’s open mouth with every whispered word, like Chan was swallowing each syllable confessed.

“..Channie?” Chan snorted, unamused with the nickname.  “I’m not sixteen anymore.”

“And I’m very thankful that you aren’t, otherwise this would be a felony.” Wonwoo responded gently.  “But you’ll always be my little baby Channie.”

“You’re an embarrassment.”  Chan said flatly, but his arms were still wrapped around Wonwoo’s waist, so who was the real winner here?  “How can you say such cringey stuff out loud?”

Chan buried his head into Wonwoo’s chest, seemingly embarrassed.  Without any shame, Wonwoo noted that their position had changed from wholesome cuddling to Wonwoo straddling Chan.

“Really,” Chan said, his voice still muffled. Wonwoo suppressed a laugh at the vibrations that came from the other boy talking into his chest.  “You can call me Chan.  I told you my name first for a reason, you know.”

“You liked me all the way back then?  Aww~” There was no hiding Wonwoo’s gleeful tone.

“Epic cringe compilation: everything you say!”

Wonwoo feigned hurt.  “No need to be so violent with your words!  That hurt my poor gamer heart.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“Breaking up implies that we’re dating.”  Wonwoo noted.  “So you’re admitting that we’re dating.”  

“No!  I never said that!” Chan whined into his chest.

“Aw, Channie,” he cooed softly, petting the younger’s hair.  “I’ll stop teasing you.  I’ve liked you for a long time too, you know.  Why do you think I told you my real name first too?”

“Hmph.  I thought you were a weirdo for doing that, honestly.”

“Maybe I should break up with you. ” Wonwoo mused.

“Hey!  You can’t do that, we haven’t gone on a date yet.”

The mood soured at the innocent mention.  When would a time come when they could freely hang out with each other in public, much less go on a date?  It was like reality came crashing down on them.

“No, we haven’t.”  Wonwoo said regretfully.  Underneath him, Chan shifted to hold his body closer, almost trying to remove any gaps of air between them.  Wonwoo felt his arms tighten around Chan as well, trying to bask in the warmth a little longer.

Later, when Wonwoo’s shame kicks back in, he will scramble off of Chan’s lap, dust himself off, and stand up straight.  He will bid goodbye to Nightwing, return back to the base, and sink back into the role of a bloodthirsty murderer.  But for now, he buries his head back into the crook of Chan’s neck and mouth Chan’s name like a prayer against the other boy’s collarbones over and over again until his lips are sore and bruised.)

When Joshua comes hurtling at Wonwoo from around the corner like a furious green bullet, Wonwoo isn’t surprised.

Joshua crashes into Wonwoo’s mind palace in the same way that Wonwoo sliced through Soonyoung’s midsection with his blade: cleanly and with murderous intent.

No!  Bad Joshua.  He doesn’t want to think about that horrifying moment, not at all.  Except he does, he really does, he wants the overlapping images that paint his eyelids to fuel his rage and send him spiraling into a murderous rage. If he allows his anger to overtake him, then he won’t have to feel the painful sting of betrayal.

Fuck Wonwoo lives , Joshua thinks viciously to himself, ripping through the fragile onion layers of Wonwoo’s mind with sharp vindication.

From inside the underwater landscape offset by Corinthian pillars, the murky water hides most everything from view.  He can sort of make out other remnants of classical architecture here and there, but for the most part, Wonwoo’s mindscape hides a large part of his mind from view.  Joshua doesn’t really know what he expected, but the lonely, dark underwater dome is not it.  Although… He takes a closer look around at the Greek-style buildings.  It’s Atlantis, isn’t it?  Or a dim and cramped version of it.  Wonwoo’s perception of his own mind is his childhood home. The barely-there ground is shaky and cracked beneath him; Joshua notes with satisfaction that he could probably crush the surface easily.

“Miss Martian!”  A deep voice calls, obscured by the darkness, but Joshua recognizes the voice immediately.  How could he not?

In a louder shout, Wonwoo yells again.  “JOSHUA!  Over here.”

Joshua flies through the thick, murky water hesitantly.  He grudgingly notes that Wonwoo’s shouts are actually useful in helping him locate the other boy.  

He sees Wonwoo standing by the amphitheater, back slumped and kicking a pebble listlessly. He tries to reconcile this defeated Wonwoo with his trusted leader Aqualad, and then with Black Manta’s loyal lieutenant, but he can’t.  

He slows down, suddenly unsure of himself.  What’s wrong with Aqualad?

“What’s your fucking deal?”  Joshua frowns once he’s in view of the other boy.  He stays floating, unwilling to lower himself to Wonwoo’s level (and killing distance).  “Why are you so unconcerned?  And … sad.”

Wonwoo manages to crack a half-smile at Joshua’s irritated concern, but straightens up to meet Joshua’s angry glare.  “I don’t have anything to hide from you, Miss M.  Anymore, at least.”

Joshua crosses his arms.  So far, Wonwoo hasn’t done anything to garner any fucking sympathy from Joshua.  He readies himself to attack if necessary.  He’ll tear Wonwoo’s mind apart if he tries to hurt (kill) anymore of Joshua’s friends.

Wonwoo seems to sense Joshua’s mistrust and manages a fuller smile, which only fuels Joshua’s irritation.  “I can show you,” he offers.  “Let my mind be of some use.  Look through my memories, Joshua.”  He gestures to the inside of the amphitheater.

“I’m not going into the theater with you !”  Joshua retorts, bristling with rage.  “What do you take me for!  You’re probably just going to kill me once we’re in there! I’m no Abe Lincoln!”

“Then I’ll wait outside.”  Wonwoo offers.

“No!  You’ll run off!  Escape!  I’m not stupid, Wonwoo!” Joshua pouts reluctantly.

“Please.  We’re in my mindscape, it’s not like I can go anywhere.”

He makes a valid point, but…”It’s your mind.  You could go anywhere that you please and I wouldn’t know a thing!”

“Oh, come one Joshua,” Wonwoo scoffs.  “Don’t sell yourself short.  Your psychic abilities have improved in leaps and bounds since you first became a superhero.  The mind is your domain, no matter whose it is.  My mind is no different.  In the chance that I try to escape the limited confines of this make-believe Atlantis, you would be able to tell where I went.”

The corners of Joshua’s mouth begin to curve upwards before he remembers who he is talking to.  “Flattery won’t work on me!”  He snaps.  “But fine, you’ve made your point.  I’ll enter the amphitheater while you wait outside.”  He floats down to Wonwoo’s side and passes the other boy to the entrance with no small amount of suspicion, which the other other ignores passively.

In the entrance of the amphitheater, far outside of the hearing of Wonwoo, is a little ticketbooth, manned by a tall boy with reddish brown hair whom Joshua doesn’t recognize.  As he gets closer, the strange boy’s features become more and more clear until Joshua gasps with recognition.

“Jun?” He gapes.  It’s been a long time, but the tall boy’s features are too distinct to be mistaken.  Wonwoo’s childhood friend who lived in Atlantis had only visited the team a couple times before his name completely disappeared from Wonwoo’s mouth.  Joshua had always wondered why he didn’t join the team; Jun had always yielded his powers with ease and fluidity whenever he joined in on the Team’s training sessions.  One day, he had stopped showing up.  Privately, Joshua theorized that Wonwoo and Jun had a falling out, but his theory was never confirmed.  And now, here was a cognitive Jun that could answer all his questions.

“Hiya there!”  Cognitive Jun chirps.  He’s dressed in some sort of movie theater employee uniform, complete with an obnoxious red sun visor as well.  His modern and tacky outfit completely clashes with the ancient Greek amphitheater.  “Here to buy a ticket?”

“Yeah,” Joshua says uncertainly.  He doesn’t have any money with him, but he doubts that cash is considered currency in Wonwoo’s mind palace.  

Jun hums.  “Which movie are you here to see?  We’re currently showing several interesting choices of different genres, including the nostalgic memoir ‘Wonwoo’s Childhood,’ the romcom flick ‘Wonwoo’s Crushes,’ and the mystery thriller film ‘What Happened to the Dirty Underwear Wonwoo Left on the Floor?’  Jun’s eyes suddenly gleam.  “Or.. are you here for something special?  You’re in luck.  The recently released blockbuster that everyone’s been raving about just came into theaters, and ours is the only place you can watch it!  It’s called, ‘Aqualad’s Deception.’  So, whaddya say?  Gonna purchase a ticket?”

Joshua’s mouth feels dry.  Aqualad’s Deception. That should be the film that Wonwoo wants him to watch.  “That one,” he tells Jun.  “I want to see Aqualad’s Deception.”

“Four fingernails, please.” Jun sings, and then bursts out laughing at the shock and disgust on Joshua’s face.  “Kidding, kidding!!  Gosh, what kind of freak charges fingernails??   But I tricked you, didn’t I?”

Joshua pastes an uncomfortable smile on his face, holding his fingers to his chest protectively.  Regrettably, he had believed Jun for a second. 

“It’ll actually just be two memories,” Jun chirps, holding out a hand expantly.  Joshua hesitates.  He doesn’t know what he expected the currency to be, but memories?  That’s just strange.  Better than fingernails, that’s for sure.  “What are you so confused for?”  Jun asks, noticing his hesitance.  “You’ll be seeing his memories, giving yours in return is just fair.”

Surprisingly, Jun makes a valid point, but Joshua thinks that his hesitance is warranted.  After all, he still doesn’t know if Wonwoo isn’t evil, and Jun is just a cognition in Wonwoo’s mind.  

Still, Joshua tries to reach into his mind to pull out a memory to give to Jun.  He skims through some inconsequential (painful) memories of his childhood on Mars, passing by images of teammates, enemies, battles, and downtime.  A fleeting image of Superboy’s face flashes in the forefront of Joshua’s mind, but he swiftly grabs onto the memory before it can take physical form.  He would like to hang onto as many memories of Jihoon as possible, thank you very much.  Finally, he settles on neutral memory of a random training session, which ironically is from the day that Jun joined them.  Next, he pulls forward a memory of Aqualad, right after New Years, looking lost and downtrodden, and retreating to his room.  He pulls their essence from his mind down to the palm of his hands, where they materialize as little poker chips.  Pleased at his little trick, he hands them to Jun.

Jun hands him his ticket cheerfully and gives him helpful instructions to help him find his seat in the big empty stands.  Before he leaves the little ticket stand, Joshua turns to ask Jun one last question.

“Hey Junnie,” Joshua begins, somewhat sheepish.  “Why did you stop coming to visit us?”

Jun scratches his head.  “Ah.. that’s a little awkward to answer.  If you want an in depth answer, the next film playing after this one is ‘Wonwoo’s Crushes.’  But the shorter answer?  Wonwoo had a crush on me, you see, ever since we were kids.  I knew on some level, but didn’t think he would actually confess.  And when we were teenagers, I started dating our other childhood friend: Jeonghan.  I didn’t want to hurt him, so I hadn’t told him yet.  But one day, he confessed to me.  It was brave of him to do that, you know?  Usually, his personality isn’t so straightforward.  But.. Jeonghan was right there.  I think he was humiliated by the experience.  He stopped coming to Atlantis after that, only going if necessary and to talk to the king.  So we haven’t seen each other since.”

It takes a moment for Joshua to recover his ability to speak.  “It’s good of you,” he says, “to be so casual about it.  I think he would be even more hurt if you tried to coddle his feelings.”

Jun shrugs.  “Well, I’m just a cognition, see?  Wonwoo hasn’t seen me in a long time.  This is just how he remembers me to be.  To be honest, he doesn’t actually know how I feel about the whole thing.  I don’t think he’s interested in learning.”

“Oh.”  Joshua says dumbly.  The things he never wanted to know about Wonwoo’s sad ass.  “Are there...other cognitions around?”  He feels compelled to ask.

“Of course!”  Jun laughs.  “It is Wonwoo’s palace, after all.”

Joshua’s mouth feels dry.  “Is there one of me?”  He asks.

“Why wouldn’t there be?”  Jun sends him such a belittling look that Joshua looks away and scurries into the stands immediately.

The already dark atmosphere is perfect for the open air amphitheater.  Joshua finds his seat easily, slipping into a seat somewhere in the perfect middle.  The projector flickers to life almost like it knows he’s there and starts rolling a tape.

It’s Wonwoo and Chan, huddled together in Chan’s room pouring over a printed document.

“--Is this true?” Wonwoo says to Chan.  “Did this really happen on New Year’s?”

“Yes,” Chan responds, eyes glued on the document.  “The Justice League, brainwashed by the Light, went on a galactic rampage and now space justice wants their heads.  They’ve left for their ‘trials’ in space, but public opinion down here isn’t good.  We gotta keep this quiet..If the Light knows that powerful Leaguers are off-planet, who knows what they’ll be planning.”

“We need to be one-step ahead of the Light.”  Wonwoo realizes. “But we’re not.”

“Bingo.”  Chan says distractedly.  “I’ve got a plan, but you’re not gonna like it.”

The scene changes.  Now, Aqualad and Nightwing are in the cellar of a hideout, but Aqualad is wearing the smooth black armor that’s a trademark of Black Manta.

“Do they believe it?  That I’ve betrayed them?”  Aqualad asks, almost desperately.  But that can’t be right.

Nightwing exhales.  “Yes.  Ready to go into the Light?” 

“There’s no going back anyways.” Aqualad says dispassionately.  He lifts the helmet up and places it over his head.

The image shifts to the night of Hoshi’s murder.  The familiar scene plays out like it normally does, except..the moment that Aqualad stabs Hoshi, the screen zooms in the wound, where his knife pierces Hoshi’s body.  The sharp blade is made of water, like all of Aqualad’s weapons are, but...the water molecules lose their edge once they touch Hoshi’s body, dissociating and collecting once it’s “passed through” Hoshi’s body.  The clip flashes to Nightwing catching Hoshi’s prone body and pasting blood on the wound before anyone notices.  With a start, Joshua notices his own image and Superboy’s flying towards Hoshi.  The clip changes before he can say anything.  

The scene is different again.  Wonwoo and Chan, sitting on the floor of a dusty basement, Wonwoo curled between Chan’s legs.  It feels strangely intimate to see them in such a vulnerable state.  On a lesser note, it’s strange to see tall and skinny Aqualad compressed into a ball to fit on their leader’s lap (who, while not as small as Superboy, is still small and broad.  Heaven knows how many times Joshua has tried to curl on Jihoon’s lap as well).  They don’t say anything for the longest time, and the scene fades to black.  Oh.  That’s the end, he guesses.

Or so he thinks.  The screen flickers to life after a second, showing a grainy black and white video, presumably taken from a security camera.  It’s in Black Manta’s base, with Black Manta and Wonwoo standing in a hallway.  Black Manta’s back is to the camera, but he has his hand clasped on Wonwoo’s shoulder.  

“My son,” he says.  The barest flicker of a grimace crosses Wonwoo’s carefully blank face.  

“Father,” he says back, and the screen dissolves into static and the credits roll.  So it’s truly over now.

Joshua steps out of the theater with shaky legs, still processing what he just saw.  As he climbs up the stairs, he pauses at the very back of the theater, where the projector stand is set up.   The roll of film for “Aqualad’s Deception” is still in there.  Checking to see if Jun had suddenly decided to pop his head in for a moment, Joshua grabbed the roll impulsively in the empty amphitheater.  The screen abruptly stopped projecting, the credits cut off mid-roll.  Joshua exits the theater quickly with the roll clutched in his hands, only sparing a single goodbye wave to Jun.

When he gets back to the entrance, there’s a new person there, cognitive Chan.  He’s dressed in casual wear, looking more cheerful and younger (almost Robin-ish) than he usually does whenever Joshua sees him.  Wonwoo also looks noticeably brighter and has stopped leaning against the wall.

“You’re back,” Wonwoo greets Joshua.  “So, what did you think?”

“You were a double agent?”  Even after watching the short film, Joshua can’t help the questioning tone to his words.

“Pretty much.”  Wonwoo shrugs.

Joshua looks down at his feet.  He’s suddenly exhausted.  He shoves his hands into his pockets when he remembers the film roll that he took.  He takes it out and stares at it.

“Ah, you brought me the treasure,” Wonwoo notes.  

“Treasure?” Joshua says doubtedly.  It doesn’t look like any treasure.

“I’m exaggerating,”  Wonwoo waves his hand.  “Can I have it?”

“Sure.”  There’s no real reason for Joshua to keep it, anyways, and it’s not like it will materialize in the outside world.  He doesn’t even know why he took it.  He hands it over easily.

Wonwoo holds the roll in his hands delicately, regarding it critically.  All of a sudden, he summons a blade in his hand and slashes it to pieces.  Joshua gasps, not expecting the violent action.

“Why--” he starts to say, but then, the water begins to clear up.  The dark green murkiness gives way to a clearer cerulean, and light spreads to the whole city.  He looks up and can see where the surface of the water is.  “What was that?” he marvels.

“Just bringing back a little light to Wonwoo’s mind,” Chan chimes in.  Wonwoo gives Chan a fond look, as if to indicate that Chan was correct.  He reaches his hand out to Chan’s, who twines them together without a second thought. 

“You’re not really Wonwoo, are you?”  Joshua asks.  He’s had his suspicions earlier, with some of Wonwoo’s comments, but he’s pretty sure now.

“Of course not.” Chan snorts.  “He’s the shadow self!”

“Yes, of course.  Wonwoo could only sustain his true self in his palace if he had psychic powers. Otherwise, it’s just shadow Wonwoo.”  Joshua says, mostly to himself.  “Will the real Wonwoo remember this when I go back?”

“Depends.  Will you tell him?”  Wonwoo raises an eyebrow.

“Of course!” Joshua pipes up indignantly.  “I won’t let him keep on thinking that we hate him!”

“That was the truth up until five minutes ago.”  Chan points out, to which Joshua deflates at.

“How can I possibly hate him now?”  Joshua asks miserably.  

Wonwoo laughs.  He looks happier, swinging his and Chan’s hands gently.  “It’s okay, Joshua.”  Wonwoo reminds him kindly.  He almost looks like his old self.

“I-I’ll make sure to tell him.”  Joshua says helplessly.  “Really.”

Chan looks a little haughty, but acknowledges Joshua nonetheless.  “We’ll hold you to that.”  he says, and then amends his statement hastily at Wonwoo’s disapproving stare.  “ I’ll hold you to that.  Wonwoo will do whatever.”

“I’ll let you make the decision.”  Wonwoo promises.  “Just do one thing for me.”  He shuffles a little, looking unexpectedly bashful.  “When you see Chan back in the real world...tell him that I love him.”

“You already have me here with you,” cognitive Chan grumbles, tightening his grip on Wonwoo.  “And you tell me that all the time!  Is that what old age does?  Make you sappy?”

“I’m not that old,” Wonwoo chides.  “And you aren’t that young.”

Joshua stares at the interlocked hands of cognitive Chan and Wonwoo and understands.  Well, he’s suspected.  He’s not surprised.

“I’ll tell him.”  Joshua promises.  Wonwoo and Chan give him matching smiles.  They raise their hands (their other hands, not the interlocked ones) and wave a cheerful goodbye. 

Joshua flies back up to the surface, feeling a little bit lighter.