Archive of Our Own ^beta

Minho couldn’t focus on his math homework with the angry yells and loud clunks of machinery in the room underneath him.

He dropped his pencil and rubbed his face, trying to get the pounding ache behind his eyes to dissipate. This wasn’t a new occurrence, when his mom held someone captive in hopes to lure and defeat some hero from the area. Happened two or three times annually, maybe four or five on a bad year.

When your mom is Erfinderin, one of the most well-known supervillains in Minho’s city, your teenage years weren’t going to be the average, fun high school experience. She was a loving mother who did whatever she could to give Minho a good life, but what she did with her spare time wasn't ideal. Minho understood her goal: to cause as much chaos as she possibly could and work her way up the ranks of power until she eventually destroyed the authority of the city. She thought that the world was falling into a corrupt rabbithole, and needed saving. She constantly found herself in situations where she had to fight for her life, or to destroy her opponent. Minho didn’t have a father figure, so during these situations, Minho was left with two options: stay at home alone, or be thrown into his suit and forced into battle with his mom.

It wasn’t as if he was known as “Erfinderin’s son” by his peers. His mom knew that the title would’ve made his regular life a living hell. For the first few years of his life, she went into hiding to focus on raising him and make sure he would be able to be able to care for himself in an emergency situation. When he turned seven, she told him that she was going back to her life as a supervillain, and he had to keep his association with her a secret to ensure his safety. They decided he’d never go out in public with her unless he had on his suit, and he’d take his father’s surname (who Minho never had anything to do with). She said that after his 16th birthday, he could reveal his identity whenever he was most comfortable and become her partner in crime, “fighting for humanity.”

Now Minho was 17, as of a week prior. He still hadn’t revealed who he was to the world. Exposing his identity would’ve forced him to drop out of school, and if he was being honest, he wanted to at least finish high school. Try to get his diploma. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to follow in his mother’s footsteps.

For his whole life, Minho’s mother had been training him to be like her, physically and mentally. He could dart around so quickly that trying to catch him would be like chasing around a pesky fly that was just too fast for you to reach. He was stronger and more flexible than the average 17 year old, and was trained to be prepared for most mental tricks or riddles that could be thrown his way. Even if he didn’t have any superpowers, his training took him pretty far. Along with that, Minho’s mother had also been taking him with her on the occasional mission so that he could get experience in action ever since he was 12 years old. When he went in, he always wore a suit his mom had designed for him. It covered every inch of his body, not letting a single hair or inch of skin be seen. It had no design that could potentially draw extra attention to him, and was very high tech.

The general public knew that the guy in the black was Erfinderin’s son, but had no clue who he really was. 

When it came to why Minho’s mom was doing all this, Minho agreed that the government and police force was corrupt, and the superhero agenda was a sham. He was sure, based on superheroes’ body language and the way they portrayed themselves to the public, the heroes in their city were truly only concerned for themselves. The only reason they kept up the saint-facade was so that they could maintain the glory, fame, and love from society. Minho didn’t like their smug faces. He knew that the city should be in better hands, hands that truly cared.

But he didn’t like the way his mother went around accomplishing her goals, either. He hated hurting innocent civilians, he hated robbing stores and banks just to get the equipment his mom needed to make her next invention. He especially hated how his mom was convinced the only way to make sure the corruption was eliminated was if the heroes were gone. Gone—as in dead, or frozen in an ice block for eternity.

An especially loud and furious shout ripped through the floor under Minho, and he groaned into his hands. There was no way he was going to finish his homework.

He leaned back in his seat, deciding to continue working once his mom took her hostage out of their lab and began her tussle with whoever she was trying to provoke. When he had some peace and quiet.

The yells were different from the usual hostage’s. Normally they were terrified, blood curdling screams. Maybe some crying, pleading to be released. The shouts that Minho heard now weren’t really fearful, just pure, ear deafening anger. Maybe a little annoyed, as if their life wasn’t at risk. Needless to say, Minho’s curiosity peaked.

His knee bounced as he reasoned with himself. Going down was a bad idea. Neither he nor his mom had planned on him getting involved in today’s affairs. She almost never allowed him to have anything to do with her plans when she took someone captive, and he was utterly unprepared. He would probably ruin his mom’s plans, the hostage might see Minho and use him to distract his mom. Along with that, Minho might lose his mom’s trust for a while. Or, she’d make him join her for the “experience.”

But he really wanted to see this hostage.

He went to his backpack and grabbed his suit.

He made sure it was securely on before he crept out of their safe room and down the stairs to the basement, just in case he was caught. He cautiously peeked around the corner and saw his mother with a venomous smile curling on her lips. She was facing her hostage, whose back was turned to Minho. It was clear they were locked into the tight hold of one of Minho’s mother’s inventions, The Gripper. It was built to evaluate its victim’s weight, height, and proportions to create the perfect, personalized metal grip on them that was impossible to escape. The only way to get out was by pressing a certain pattern into a hidden pressure pad where the victim’s right hand was positioned. Only Minho and his mom knew the pattern, in case their enemies ever tried to use the contraption against them.

Minho darted behind his mother’s computers and other gadgets that lined the walls of the large room, making his way to the opposite side of the room where he’d have a good view of the hostage. Every time his mom turned her back in his direction, Minho slipped along the wall until he was eventually behind one of the larger computers, in a good position to see who his mother had captured.

When he finally made it to a spot where he had a good view of the hostage, he was surprised to see a boy around his age in the machine’s grips. He had wide but fierce eyes, and round cheeks that Minho was sure must capture the hearts of anyone who saw him on the street. His light brown hair was sticking up all over the place as he struggled against his constraints with all his might. There was fire in his eyes, more intense than Minho had ever seen in any of his mother’s previous hostages. If looks could kill, Mom would be dead where she stands.

“So,” Minho’s mom’s voice sang, a certain lilt in her voice that only appeared when she talked to her enemies. “Are you excited for this evening? It’ll be so much fun!” She glided into Minho’s field of vision. “I wonder how long you’re going to have to watch you father suffer… he’s always been good at fighting, hasn’t he?”

“He’ll rip you to shreds,” The boy spat, before trying to squeeze out of The Gripper again. “As long as I don’t get out of here before you can get to him.”

Minho’s mother hummed. “He doesn’t have the guts to kill me.” She disregarded what the boy had said about escaping, which Minho knew was because she wasn’t worried about him doing so. “Always has the police after me. He can’t finish the job himself.”

“Yeah, because he has a heart!” The boy narrowed his eyes. “He wouldn’t kill anyone, even if they’re the scum of the earth like you. ”

Minho’s mom laughed. “Sounds like he’s afraid.”

Minho felt a pang in his chest, and looked away. At times like this, he wanted to shake some sense into his mom. Not everything had to end so violently. All the things he wished were different about her started running through his mind. He wished she could leave innocent people out of the problems she had with heroes. He hated her kidnapping tactic. All it did was traumatize harmless people, and the success rate wasn’t any better than any other plan she used to lure heroes her way.

“You’re such a—” Minho heard the hostage cut off mid sentence, and looked up to see the boy staring at him.

Minho froze. His heart stopped as he watched the boy’s eyes widen. This was the moment when he starts yelling about Minho being there, when his mom finds him and flips out. She’d never trust him again. She’d never leave him in a room by himself again, meaning she’d force him to come with her on all of her sick, twisted missions, god—

As panic rose in his throat, he realized a couple seconds had passed. He set his focus back on the boy, who was gaping at him. Minho realized the fire in his eyes was dying down the longer he looked at Minho, confusion flooding them instead. He tilted his head slightly, as if asking Minho a silent question.

“Such a what? Hm?” Minho’s mom’s voice ripped Minho out of his own head.

The boy also seemed to snap out of his trance and looked back to Minho’s mom. “Such a monster.”

Minho released the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The boy hadn’t said anything. Why didn’t he say anything?

His mother’s teasing and the boy’s feisty comments went on for a few more minutes, but Minho couldn’t move. He knew there was no reason for him to stay any longer. He’d seen who his mom was holding, and didn’t really need to hear any more of their conversation. They were going to be gone soon, his mom would fight, and Minho wouldn’t have to see any of it.

But there was something different about this. Minho had an urge in the pit of his stomach to help the kid. He told himself that he couldn't, that he needed help his mom go through with her plans by not interfering. But he had a sour taste in his mouth as he watched the situation, a sense that something bad was going to happen, and couldn’t bring himself to leave. Especially after he’d been seen. And yeah, it was clear the boy wasn’t all that afraid, but maybe that was why Minho had a voice in his brain telling him to do something.

“Alright, the time has come!” His mom’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “Everything’s ready to go, time to go meet your father for a chat!” She smirked, and turned to her computer to make The Gripper transportable. Minho felt like he was going to throw up.

He looked at the boy, and watched as his face changed slightly. He gulped, and Minho caught a flash of fear in his eyes. He masked it well, but Minho saw it.

Minho ran a hand over his face, conflicted. If he was going to do something, he needed to do it now. But if he did, he’d be going against what he’d been working to accomplish for his whole life.

But had he really been working towards it? Or was he just one of his mom’s props in her show?

Then the boy glanced at Minho, as if he was his last hope, and Minho’s will broke.

He waited until his mom had her back to him, then came out farther from behind the computer. He pointed to his right hand and wiggled his fingers. He acted like it was held down, as the boy’s was, and made a tapping motion with it.

Minho watched as the kid realized Minho was helping him, before he discretely copied Minho’s movements with his right hand.

Minho nodded and gave him a thumbs up, before holding his left hand with his palm facing the ceiling, pressing the password into it with his right index finger. 

(It was morse code for “cat.” Minho and his mom both really liked cats.)

Long short long short, short long, long. He repeated it until it seemed like the boy had gotten it in his head. Then he tapped along as the boy attempted it. He tried once, twice, three times, and then—

The bars around the boy’s chest loosened.

Minho watched as triumph flashed through the boy’s features, then turned to Minho and thanked him with his eyes. 

The boy checked to see if Minho’s mom was watching, then slipped out of The Gripper and sprinted towards the back door. 

Minho’s mom spun around at the sound of feet on the floor, and screamed something that Minho was too focused on getting up the stairs undetected and fast to hear.

He stumbled into the safe room, hastily pulling off his suit and shoving it back into his bag. He pulled on his regular clothes, and threw himself into his desk chair. He buried his face into his arms, trying to get his heartbeat to calm down and his breathing back to normal.

About ten minutes later, his mom stormed into the room, slamming the door. Minho shot up and turned around. “What happened?” He asked in the most innocent way possible.

“Hostage escaped.” She grumbled, rummaging for spare parts in their storage closet. “When I had finally gotten HYH’s son, after lord knows how long, the machine malfunctions.” She hit the closet door in frustration. “How did this even happen? It’s never malfunctioned, why now?”

Minho started. “Wait, HYH has a son?” 

“Han, Your Hero”, or HYH, was Minho’s mother’s greatest enemy, and was one of the few superheroes that actually had powers. He could fly, had super strength, and had super speed. He was probably one of the most powerful men in the world, as it was so uncommon to have more than one power. He was one of the few superheroes that could regularly defeat Minho’s mother.

But he knew this, which caused him to be one of the most bigoted and annoying people in the world, as well. If Minho was to choose a representative for the self-centered heroes’ club, he would pick HYH. 

His mother glanced at Minho. “Yeah. It’s not really common knowledge.” She turned back to her pile of metal bits. “Now I have to find out what happened with The Gripper, fix it, and work out a new way I’m going to kidnap that stupid boy. If I even will, he was a pain in the ass.”

Minho pursed his lips and nodded, turning around. 

She was grumpy during the ride home that night, to say the least.

-

As Minho was trying to fall asleep later, he remembered what his mom had said. HYH’s son. How had that kid been HYH’s son? They were so different.

He pulled out his phone and typed “HYH kid” into his search bar. A couple blurry baby pictures appeared underneath a name written in bold text:

Han Jisung, 16 years old.

“Han Jisung.” Minho muttered to himself.

-

“HYH has a son? ”

“That’s what I said!”

Minho sat in Changbin’s room, telling the story of the previous night. Changbin was Minho’s best friend, and the only person other than his mom who knew that Minho was the guy in the suit. He knew that Changbin didn’t like his mom and hoped Minho would leave her lifestyle, but had no judgement at all. He was always a supportive friend.

“But… you let him out?” Changbin raised his eyebrows. “Minho, you’re becoming a real hero, aren’t you!”

Minho shoved Changbin’s shoulder. “Shut up, I didn’t know who his dad was! I was sick of my mom using people.”

“Why was this guy the last straw?”

Minho frowned and looked out Changbin’s window. “I don’t really know. He seemed like he wasn’t only worried about himself, like most hostages are.”

“Ah.” A smile grew on Changbin’s face. “You know, it’s really cool that you did that.”

Minho scrunched up his nose. “You’re so corny, it’s gross. I went against my mom, and if she finds out I did that…”

“That’s what I think is cool.”

“Disobedience?”

Changbin rolled his eyes and slapped Minho’s forearm. “That you’re becoming your own person.”

Minho snorted, but didn’t respond.

“Do you know his name?” Changbin asked.

Minho nodded. “Han Jisung.”

Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, stared at his wall for a second, then turned back to Minho. “Nope. Never heard the name.”

“Apparently it’s like, underground knowledge that HYH has a son.” Minho rubbed his cheek in thought. “How does that even happen? Is it some secret within the superhero and villain community?”

Changbin shrugged. “Guess so. Maybe he’s trying to keep the kid safe.”

“My mom keeps me safe, yet people know she has a son.”

“I feel like it’s different for you.” Changbin deadpanned.

Minho ignored Changbin. “But he is somewhat known. When I looked up if HYH had a kid, his name popped up. Is it just not talked about?”

“You looked him up?”

“Not the point.”

Changbin sighed. “I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t really care. I’m more focused on the fact that you acted like a knight in shining armor for the son of your mom’s mortal enemy.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Was he cute? I bet you—”

Minho cut him off by tackling him to the floor.

-

Minho fell to the concrete with a thud, a crowd of people dividing around him. Shrieks could be heard from anyone within a twenty foot radius of him. He winced as a sharp pain ran up his spine.

When he came back to his senses, a giant, sharp claw was headed straight at him. He rolled out of the way and jumped up, tapping his left index finger and thumb together twice to initiate the small jets built into the soles of the shoes on his suit. 

He launched into the air, aiming for the top of a taller building, avoiding the blows of the huge metal paws on the way up. He scanned the air for his mom, and spotted her on her hovering saucer shooting lasers at The Feline, the hero they were fighting. 

The goal was to dismount The Feline from the driver’s seat of her robot, so they could get it for themselves and make improvements to it, making it one of their main weapons and sources of transportation. Minho’s mom had lured her in by pretending that she was robbing a bank in the area that she knew The Feline reported to, and going from there.

He reached the top of the building and analyzed their situation. The Feline, one of the superheroes without any superpowers, was in a small glass dome on the giant, metal cat’s back. The dome seemed strong, since it wasn’t being affected by his mom’s laser gun, and civilians were dodging the beams bouncing off of the glass. If Minho could break that glass somehow, maybe his mom would be able to get in and take control.

He grabbed a stray brick lying next to his feet and threw it, but the animatronic was too far away for his throw to reach the glass. He checked to see how much fuel his jets had, and started them up again. He projected himself towards her, increasing his speed as he flew. Once he grew close enough, he turned off his jets and drew his knees into his chest, before kicking hard and slamming his feet into the glass. The impact didn’t break it, but Minho could tell it did damage as the robot stumbled a little. 

He saw The Feline flip him off from her seat, and he turned on his jets before he could hit the ground again.

So his plan ensued. He repeatedly threw objects at the glass, or hurdled himself at her with all his strength while his mom distracted her. After using a sign from outside of a restaurant, he saw a crack appear. Excitement lit up in him.

He launched himself at the glass again. The crack grew. After being thrown backwards by the impact, he tried to look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t going to hit anything before he re-initiated his jets, but something caught his eye. 

Or someone. 

There, in the middle of the crowd, stood HYH’s son staring at him with huge eyes. 

Jisung, Minho reminded himself. Then his back slammed into a brick wall.

He grimaced behind his mask, and before he could react, a claw was shoved against his throat and he couldn’t move. He tried to use his legs to push against the metal pressed to his chest, but it was no use. He tried to get his arms out, and couldn’t budge.

“Why did you help me?” A voice yelled.

Minho whipped his head around to see Jisung shoving his way through the crowd, trying to get closer to Minho. Everyone was staring. Minho wanted to scream at him, tell him to back off before he messed up the rhythm of things, or get hurt. But he knew that saying anything could potentially reveal his identity. Anyone who recognized his voice could be in the crowd.

He glanced up at his mom. She seemed to not have heard Jisung, as she was too high in the air and focused on trying to get The Feline to release her grasp on Minho.

“Did you hear me? Mystery boy!”

“Is now really the best time to be asking me that, dude?” Minho snapped before he could stop himself.

Shit.

The Feline seemed to be muddled by the situation, and her grip on Minho loosened the slightest bit. It was enough for him to pull his arms out and get his hands on top of the paw, shoving himself out of her hold. He bolted towards a manhole cover he’d had his eye on for the past five minutes, sliding behind various objects and getting himself lost in crowds so that The Feline wouldn’t try to knock him down and potentially hurt civilians.

Finally, he reached it. He hooked his fingers in the holes, pulling it out of place. It was lighter than he’d expected, and he managed to turn on his jets.

He flew up a little slower than usual with the extra weight, but he made it to the top of another building. Once his feet were planted on a hard surface, he fixed his eyes on the glass dome, pulled his arms behind his head, and flung the slab of metal as hard as he could.

It flew through the air and hit his target head on. He watched as it crashed into the glass, and broke a giant hole in the dome. The Feline luckily ducked, and it flew over her head, creating another hole on the other side.

Minho’s mom instantly flew down to where the hole was and shoved The Feline out of her seat. She clambered into the driver’s seat and gave The Feline another kick, which sent her off the edge of her giant robot.

Minho quickly jumped off the top of the building and caught her, grabbing the collar of her shirt. She kicked and screamed as Minho set her on the ground, and he got away from her as fast as he could once she was safe.

He flew back up, and looked at his mom. She seemed like she had gotten a handle of the controls, pride radiating off of her. Sirens went off in the distance, and she turned to Minho. He motioned for her to go to their lab, and fast. It would be more efficient.

She gave him a worried look. He pointed more urgently, which seemed to convince her. She sent him one last glance, before making the robot run off.

After she had made her departure, Minho flew away from the scene in the opposite direction as unnoticeably as he could, which wasn’t too hard, since everyone seemed like they were more focused on the stolen giant metal cat.

He hid in a nearby alley, and watched as everything unfolded. His black suit concealed him well in the shadows, and nobody really looked for him. He took it as an opportunity to catch his breath, and wait until it was safe for him to make his way home.

“Hey, mystery boy,” A voice whispered behind him.

Minho almost got whiplash from how fast he turned around. And who did he see when he did? The one and only Han Jisung, trying to look normal and failing miserably by awkwardly leaning against the outer wall of the building next to the alley.

“What the fuck, ” Minho hissed. He started to back away, preparing himself to book it.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” Jisung whisper-shouted, taking a hesitant step forward. “I’m not gonna give you away, I promise. I just wanna ask you something!” 

Minho slowed his steps, but didn’t stop. “How did you know I was here?”

Jisung let out a puff of air. Minho could see he was nervous. “I watched you leave. Saw you come in this direction. Can I just ask you this question, please?”

Minho didn’t respond. He already knew what it was.

“Why did you help me?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because out of everyone your mom has kidnapped, I’m the only one who’s ever gotten away before the hero saves them, if they even get saved.” Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “Why me?”

Minho blinked, before reminding himself he needed to keep his composure, and forced a snort. “You’re not special, Jisung. Just wanted to switch things up a little. You looked like you needed the help, and maybe I felt like a saint that night.”

Jisung froze. “How do you know my name?”

“You act like I’m not the son of your father’s worst enemy.”

Jisung rubbed his eyes. “No, we’re not changing the subject.” He looked back up with a more serious, piercing expression. “Why were you hiding in the first place? Don’t you and your mom work together?”

The air got stuck in Minho’s throat. “None of your business.”

“Did something go wrong with her?” Jisung frowned. “Nothing bad is happening, right?”

Minho immediately turned on his jets, glaring at Jisung. “You know nothing about me, kid.” He flew away before he could gage Jisung’s reaction.

-

Minho lay in his bed at 2 in the morning a few nights later, unable to sleep. He wasn’t really sure what was keeping him awake, he just knew that there was something in him that was missing.

He sat up and stared out his window. The streets were empty, aside from the few drunks he saw stumbling down the sidewalk. He heard the sound of traffic in the distance, and an occasional police siren. He’d always wondered why the city felt so different at night. He either felt at ease, or completely on edge. Was it the absence of people? The deafening silence?

All he knew was that right then, he was antsy and needed something to do.

He went to his backpack and got his suit out. After changing, he silently slipped out of his window, and began flying from rooftop to rooftop. He wasn’t really worried about being seen, since his suit concealed him in the dark and there was barely anyone out.

He headed towards an apartment building he’d been visiting for the past year or two when he got in moods like this. When he had started visiting, it had only just been built, so nobody lived there. As of now, there still weren’t many people that lived there yet. It was also one of the taller buildings in the area. Minho always chose a balcony that wasn’t at the very top, since his childhood fear of heights still wouldn’t permit that. But he made sure it was still significantly high and had a good view of the city, so it was usually on one of the middle levels.

Minho hadn’t visited in about a couple months, and was met with the view of a few more windows being lit up, meaning they must have been moved into. He made a mental note to steer clear of those apartments.

He flew up to a balcony that fit his criteria. It wasn’t too high, but still had a decent view. He checked through the window and was met with a room void of furniture. He checked the apartment next door, and saw the same results.

He landed on it and leaned against the railing. After double and triple checking his surroundings, he got a hold of the zipper at the back of his head and unzipped it to the base of his neck. The fabric of the part of his suit that covered his head fell to his chest, and he ruffled his hair, taking a breath of fresh air.

The breeze felt good on his face, and he looked out to the horizon. The skyscrapers in the distance didn’t seem as towering and intimidating as they had been when he’d last seen them. Did that mean Minho was becoming more mature and less awed by the height of the buildings? Or had he just gained experience in the city since then?

He thought back to Changbin’s words. You’re becoming your own person. When he’d said it, Minho didn’t think much of it. If anything, he disagreed. Going against his mother once wasn’t a sign of him becoming all independent and grown up. 

Nothing much had changed in the days since Changbin had said that, but Minho couldn’t help but see the words differently now. He had been having some pretty rebellious thoughts about his mom recently. Did that mean he was becoming his own person, though? Was Minho even ready to go out on his own?

He imagined doing something outside of being the son of Erfinderin. The idea excited and scared him at the same time. Making his own decisions that could alter his future? Finding who he really was, outside of just being the son of one of the biggest supervillains in the city? Hell, did he even have anything outside of that? Maybe that was all he was destined to be: a sidekick.

He sighed, and looked up to the night sky. Can I get some kind of sign?

“You know, I didn’t expect your hair to be blue.”

Minho’s brain went into overdrive. He stumbled back, looking for the source of the voice while grabbing for the zipper on his suit in a frenzy.

On the balcony next to him stood Jisung, the bane of Minho’s existence.

“What are you doing here?” Minho tried to calm his breathing as he stared at Jisung in horror. “Why are you everywhere?”  

He had just been caught with his face revealed for the first time in his life, and by the son of the man who had the most potential to put him and his mother in jail for life. His vision started to go blurry.

It was clear Jisung could see Minho’s terror, and the look in his eye softened. He gestured to the glass door behind him. “My mom and I live here.”

“Then why is there no furniture?”

“We moved in a week ago. The only furniture we have right now are our mattresses. The rest is coming in soon.” Jisung bit his lip, a cautious look on his face. “You know, I’m not gonna tell anyone who you are.”

“Like hell you won’t.”

“Why would I want to ruin your life? I hate your mom, not you. Telling everyone who you are would only hurt you, which I have no desire to do. I don’t even know your name, dude.”

Minho wasn’t hearing anything Jisung was saying with the panic roaring in his ears. He stared at Jisung for a moment longer, before zipping up his suit and leaving without another word.

His heart was racing as he lay in bed that night, his breathing labored and broken. He felt tears prickling his eyes. If he couldn’t sleep earlier, he probably wasn’t going to get any rest for a month now. Not when he may have just ruined his chance of finishing high school, his chance of maintaining any of his friends’ trust, his chance of having a say in what the rest of his life was going to be like.

-

He was on edge for the rest of the week. Every morning, the first thing he did was check the headlines, looking for something that sounded a bit like: “Mysterious Son of Erfinderin, Identity Revealed!”

When he saw nothing, he went to school, fearful for his safety with each step he took. He was constantly checking the people around him, trying to see if anyone was giving him weird looks.

Changbin stayed by Minho’s side whenever he was able to. He was Minho’s source of stability during that week, and calmed him down when his anxiety got especially bad, or told stupid jokes to get his mind off of… well, life.

It got better as time went on, each day bringing no signs of anybody knowing who he was. His friends didn’t treat him any differently, nobody was staring at him in the streets or trying to arrest him, and no descriptions of Erfinderin’s son being a boy with blue hair were released. 

(Minho was thankful for that. He’d just dyed his hair a few weeks ago, and didn’t want to change it so soon.)

About a week after the incident, Minho and Changbin sat on the steps leading up to Minho’s townhouse after school and staring at the slow moving traffic in rush hour. The afternoon sun shone directly into Minho’s face, forcing him to squint if he wanted to be able to see anything.

“How’d you feel about the math test today?” Changbin asked him.

“Fine.”

“You seemed like you were pretty prepared.”

“I guess.”

Changbin huffed. “Minho, you’ve gotta stop beating yourself up over this. It was a small mistake, how were you supposed to know Jisung had suddenly moved in when there were no obvious signs of it?” 

Minho glared at his shoes. “I shouldn’t have taken off the mask in the first place.”

“Oh, come on. You have to take it off sometimes. It’s hard to breathe in that thing, and how are you going to see the view when you’ve got that black stuff over your eyes? Nobody’s found out about you. Stop worrying so much.”

Minho scratched his elbow. “The mask doesn’t affect my vision.”

“Not the point.” Changbin patted Minho’s shoulder. “I don’t think the kid’s gonna say anything. It’s been a week. Take a deep breath, you’ll be okay.”

Minho shaded his eyes with his hand and looked at Changbin. “But what if he does?”

Changbin shook his head. “From what you’ve told me, he doesn’t seem like the type to do that.”

“He’s the son of—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Minho. You’ve told me a billion times. But he even said it himself: he doesn’t hate you, he hates your mom. He knows that exposing your identity would only damage your reputation, not your mom’s.”

Minho nodded. He knew it was reasonable, he just needed to believe it himself. “Thanks.”

Changbin gave him a warm smile. 

-

Two weeks after the incident, Minho was becoming more optimistic. Nothing had come out about him. His anxiety about everything was fading, and he felt his old self coming back. Maybe he’d be okay.

For the first time since he’d seen Jisung, he put on his suit and went out that night. It was later, more like half past 3, to be safe.

He went around the city, looking for anything new, any changes he’d missed. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, trying to feel a thrill. He flew as far up as his jets would safely permit him. He even went to the outskirts of the city to try and find somewhere he could see the stars. He was unsuccessful, of course. Light pollution was a bitch.

As he flew around, the very thing he was trying to avoid caught his eye: the apartment building. He sighed and stopped midair to stare at it from where he was. He slowly drifted towards the ground until he was hovering just a couple feet above the sidewalk. That had been his favorite place to go. But now, he wasn’t sure if he could without being afraid of being caught.

I’ve been doing it for years, why is it such a big deal now? Just take more precautions.

But now he knew what it was like to get caught, and he got lucky. What if he wasn’t so lucky the second time?

That’s exactly why I’ll be careful.

As he argued with himself in his head, he subconsciously drifted closer to the building, until he was right in front of it. When he noticed his proximity to it, he shook himself out of his trance and got ready to leave. Before he did, he looked up at it one more time, into the balconies. 

Big mistake. Standing on the very balcony from two weeks ago, looking out to the horizon, was Jisung.

Minho froze, his thoughts coming to a halt. He gawked at Jisung, unable to move. Why couldn’t he just leave? 

But before he could gather his wits, Jisung’s eyes were trailing down, down, until they reached where Minho was hovering and spotted him. Minho cursed under his breath. What had he expected?

He contemplated leaving. It would be the better choice, considering their last interaction. He shouldn’t make this messy situation any more of a big deal than it needed to be.

But as he stared at Jisung, he felt some kind of urge to talk to him. To understand him. What was it about this kid that made it feel like there was an invisible rope connecting them, pulling Minho closer?

He flew up to the balcony.

The look of shock on Jisung’s face would’ve made Minho laugh if he wasn’t practically having heart palpitations. 

He sat on the balcony railing. “Your mom’s not awake, right?” He tried to sound as intimidating as possible.

Jisung shook his head.

“And the apartment next door doesn’t have anyone living in it?”

“No.”

Minho checked the streets below them to make sure there wasn’t anyone who could potentially take pictures, and reached behind his head to unzip his suit. He squeezed his eyes shut, then did it before he could change his mind. Jisung had already seen his face, and conversations are always better when you can see the other person’s facial expressions.

A sense of embarrassment hit him, and he looked out to the city for a beat before he mustered up the courage to turn to Jisung. “So. You didn’t tell anyone.”

Jisung gave Minho a confused look. “Like I said, I didn’t have a reason to, and I don’t know your name.”

Minho ran a hand through his hair. His tongue felt like cotton. “Even if it wasn’t to ruin my life. Wouldn’t you get, like, tons of praise and money for telling the media what I look like?” He shot Jisung an icy look after the second half of Jisung’s sentence registered with him. “I’m not telling you my name.”

Jisung shook his head frantically. “I’m not asking you for your name! Too much responsibility.” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and shrugged. “I don’t really want attention. Why should anyone believe me, anyway?”

Minho raised a questioning eyebrow. “You don’t want attention, yet your dad is one of the most famous superheroes in the city, if not the most famous. How does that feel?”

Jisung grinned, which broke the tension and calmed Minho down a little. “I don’t really get much publicity from it, so it’s no biggie.”

That reminded Minho of his initial surprise that Jisung wasn’t known country-wide. “Why not?” He asked. “I was surprised I’d never heard of you when my mom told me about you.” 

Jisung rubbed his neck, averting his eyes. “My parents got divorced when I was three. My dad wanted me to live with my mom, since it was too dangerous for me to stay with him. I haven’t seen him in a long time, and he never talks about me. So, y’know, not many people know I exist, or just don’t know what I look like.” Something briefly passed through Jisung’s eyes. If Minho had to guess what it was, he’d say it was like resentment, or yearning. 

Jisung looked out at the horizon. “It’s not like it’s some huge secret, though. A lot of people at my school know. They just don’t make a big deal about it.” 

“But…” Minho furrowed his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you be famous for your powers? It’s so rare for someone to have those, let alone get the chance to have a kid. Your dad doesn’t want you to learn how to use them?”

Jisung’s eyes snapped back to Minho, his face suddenly void of emotion. “I don’t have powers.”

Minho blinked. “Oh.”

Jisung stared past Minho with a blank look on his face for a second, before he seemed to realize he was acting weird. He quickly gave Minho a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, though, powers would just get me involved in all the combat and nasty stuff. I’m safer to be with my mom. If I stayed with my dad, not having any powers…” He winced. “What happened with your mom probably would’ve happened a hundred times over.”

Minho felt a pang of guilt when Jisung mentioned what happened with his mom. All the things he wanted to say passed through his head. I’m sorry, nobody deserves to go through that. Or maybe, my mom is insane for doing that.

“Yeah, probably,” He ended up deciding on.

Jisung chuckled at that. “Y’know, we moved because your mom found me.” Immediately after the words left his mouth, a realization seemed to hit him, and his smile dropped in an instant. His eyes went wide. “Shit. You’re not gonna tell your mom where we live now, right?” 

Minho looked at him. He saw the same thing he had felt for the past two weeks in Jisung’s eyes. As Minho studied Jisung’s face, he knew that the boy had no malintent for Minho. That didn’t mean Minho wasn’t going to be cautious around him, but he wasn’t going to put the kid in danger for his mom’s sake. Minho hated when his mom kidnapped people anyway, and Jisung talking about the measures he and his mom had gone to to stay safe didn’t exactly help the sense of responsibility for what happened bubbling in his stomach.

He shook his head, trying to keep his facial expressions as nonchalant as possible. “You didn’t rat me out, so I won’t either.”

Jisung sighed, relief flooding his face. “Okay. Thank you.”

Minho looked to the dark indigo sky, ashamed to make eye contact. “No, thank you,” He muttered under his breath, almost hoping Jisung wouldn’t hear him.

He could feel Jisung’s smiling eyes on him.

-

Minho didn’t intend on going back. He really didn’t. He’d resolved things with Jisung, and didn’t have any reason to speak to him again. Jisung got his answers, Minho had his, and all was well. It would be better if Minho didn’t associate with him.

Yet a few nights later, at 2 am on a Saturday morning, he found himself in front of Jisung’s apartment building again, his eyes trained on Jisung’s empty balcony. He wasn’t sure why he was staying there for so long, or how he got there in the first place. He felt the weird feeling of a rope pulling him towards Jisung’s balcony again.

And then the glass door was sliding open, and Jisung was stepping out. Minho watched as his eyes scanned the city, before looking into the street Minho stood in. Jisung’s eyes found Minho, as his hand raised in greeting, a friendly smile on his face. And against Minho’s better judgement, he flew up to the balcony.

It became a bit of a routine for Minho. A couple times a week, usually on Tuesday and Friday nights, he would pull on his suit and go around the city, always ending up in front of Jisung’s apartment building after his adventures. Minho assumed Jisung must’ve been a lot like him, needing to get fresh air when he couldn’t sleep. Every time Minho showed up, Jisung was on his balcony, caught up in a daydream. He never failed to spot Minho, though. 

Minho learned a lot about Jisung on these nights. Jisung went to a private school. His favorite season was winter, and he loved cheesecake. He liked horror movies, but got scared pretty easily, and almost always ended up turning them off before he could get to the end.

Minho also learned that this kid could talk. He babbled about whatever seemed to pop into his head, and Minho listened, adding his own input every now and then. Minho, to his own surprise, liked listening to Jisung. He had a way of speaking that was kind of captivating, and could quickly calm Minho’s nerves.

At the end of each night, as Minho pulled back on his mask, Jisung would always say, “Bye, mystery boy,” with a smirk on his face. Minho wrinkled his nose at the nickname, but still hadn’t told Jisung his real name, so he never commented on it.

In fact, Minho hadn’t really told Jisung anything about himself. Every time he wanted to relate a story Jisung told to one of his own experiences, he always shut his mouth before anything could slip out, stifling it with a hum, or playing it off by teasing Jisung instead. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wasn’t used to opening up to people, or if it was because he still wasn’t totally over the fact that Jisung knew who he was, and didn’t want to accidentally expose himself with an offhand comment. Maybe it was a combination of both.

Jisung didn’t seem to mind, though. He never pressured Minho into saying anything, and didn’t ask any questions that made him uncomfortable. He seemed to be able to tell that Minho wasn’t ready to be personal yet. 

Minho wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.

He told all this to Changbin on the phone one night, leaving out a few of the details to avoid the teasing, but giving him the general idea.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, before: “Minho! You’re becoming friends with him? What happened to ‘the son of my mom’s worst enemy?’”

Minho winced at the volume of Changbin’s screeching, and moved his phone farther away from his ear. “We’re not friends!”

“Going to visit him every week sounds a lot like you’re friends!”

“Okay, whatever, it’s not like I’m gonna die,” Minho grumbled. “I’ll stop going, okay? Happy?”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Changbin groaned. “I’m just surprised. This seems like a very un-Minho thing to do.”

“‘Un-Minho’?!”

“Yeah, it’s really defiant for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He heard Changbin facepalm on the other end. “Ugh, I think it’s cool! Get over yourself.”

Minho bit his thumbnail, his defensiveness fading. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. I like it when you do stuff for yourself.” 

Minho rolled his eyes at that. “Like I said, we’re not friends. It’s just interesting to talk to him. I’ll probably stop soon.”

“Why should you? You just said you like talking to him.”

Minho massaged his right temple, a headache beginning to form. “Yeah, but it’s dangerous. Imagine what my mom would do if she found out.”

“She won’t. Forget about your mom, make a risky friend! If you like spending time with him, that’s all that matters.”

“You make it sound like he’s some necessity, I don’t like him that much… I don’t even know if I trust him!” Minho sighed in frustration, feeling his headache slowly turning into a migraine. “God. My head hurts.”

Changbin’s voice softened at that. “Why don’t you go to sleep, okay? I can tell you’re tired,” He said in a firm, but reassuring tone. “Just know that I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. Be a rebellious teenager! Live that Romeo and Juliet story!”

“It’s nothing like Romeo and Juliet!”

“Whatever you say, Minho.”

-

After days of telling himself that seeing Jisung was a bad idea, Minho still ended up sitting on the floor of his balcony for the fourth week in a row, leaning against the cold, metal railing.

Jisung sat to his right, his back against the wall. He had worn a hoodie out, but it now lay on the concrete next to him after he complained about being too hot. Minho sat with his back to the city in order to be as safe as possible. It was a bit windier that night, and Jisung had tried to keep his hair tame as the breeze tousled it out of place, before giving up and allowing it to stick up in whichever direction the wind blew. 

Jisung turned to Minho. “Can I ask you something?”

Minho blinked out of the daze he had been in and looked at Jisung. His eyes had a curious look in his eyes, but also something in it that told Minho that it was okay if he didn’t want Jisung asking him anything. Minho’s chest felt a little warm at the idea.

(He would never tell a soul about that, though.)

“Go for it.”

Jisung’s eyes widened in surprise, before the curious look came back with more intent behind it. “How does it feel for the whole world to not know your identity? Is it weird? Do you get, like, satisfaction from it? Or is it scary?”

Minho pursed his lips in thought. How was it different from everyday life? He wouldn’t really know the difference. It felt like the only thing he’d ever known was having an evil persona.

“All of the above, I guess? I’ve almost never not had to hide who I was from the public, so I wouldn’t say it’s weird. I don’t get too much satisfaction from it, but sometimes it’s kinda funny when my friends tell me about something ‘Erfinderin’s son’ did.” He chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating whether he should share the more vulnerable part of it. “And yeah, it’s a little scary sometimes. There’s always that fear in the back of my mind that the zipper will accidentally come undone in front of hundreds of people and reporters, or that some super-genius is gonna work out who I am from my body language or something.” He cringed at how transparent he was being, and tried to cover it up by putting his hands behind his head and giving Jisung a pointed look. “Feel bad about invading my privacy and forcing me to reveal my deepest, darkest secret yet?”

“I’ve been feeling bad, stop!” Jisung whined.

Minho just chuckled.

Jisung glared at him and stretched out his legs. “You know, ever since you started fighting alongside your mom, I’ve always wondered what your life must be like. I wondered whether you went to school, what you did during your free time, what your personality was like.” He looked at his shoes, and his voice dropped to a murmur. “What your relationship with your mom was like.” Minho wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear that part.

He shrugged. “I’m just a normal kid.”

Jisung looked back up, a grin replacing the wistful look on his face. “A normal kid who’s also one of the most famous supervillains in the city.”

Minho put his hands up in mock surrender. “That’s my mom, not me!”

“Oh, come on. You might not have a fancy name or anything, but you’re basically one of them.”

Minho felt a pang in his heart. He knew Jisung was joking, but it still got to him. Was he already known as another supervillain? Did people really think of him that way? If people saw him like that, then it would be a lot harder to find his way out of this lifestyle. Was he destined to be stuck like this forever?

“Then how does it feel to be meeting up with a supervillain to chat on a weekly basis, Mister Good Samaritan?” He distracted himself by teasing Jisung. “You’re basically one of us, at this point. I can’t believe you’ve gone down this path…”

Jisung laughed and rolled his eyes. “Says the one going behind his mom’s back, conspiring with the enemy.”

“Who says I’m going behind her back?”

Jisung lifted a knowing eyebrow. Minho frowned at how spot on Jisung was.

“I’m not conspiring with the enemy,” He grumbled. “I’m being charitable talking to you. Giving up my precious time.” 

He checked the watch in his suit, which read 3:54 AM. “Speaking of precious time, I think I’m gonna go. It’s getting late, and we have school.” He stood up, brushing off his legs and reaching behind his neck to zip up his suit.

Jisung stood up with him and grabbed his hoodie off of the ground, beginning to pull it back on. It was super oversized on him. “See you later, mystery boy.”

Minho stopped in his tracks and fidgeted with his zipper. Something came over him, and the words left his mouth before he realized what was happening. “Lee Minho.”

Jisung’s eyes snapped up, his arms midway through the sleeves of his hoodie. “Huh?”

Minho rubbed the back of his neck. “My name. It’s Lee Minho.”

Jisung blinked. “Oh.” A small smile grew on his lips. “Well, I’ll see you later, Minho.”

As Minho flew away, the combination of nerves and butterflies in his stomach made him feel unsteady.

-

After Minho told Jisung his name, the uneasiness came back. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been a month earlier, moreso a worry in the back of his mind. He wasn’t thinking about it 24/7, but the thought that it was possible he could wake up one morning and be an enemy to society still popped into his head occasionally. 

Having said that, he didn’t stop going to see Jisung. After Minho had told him his name, their relationship changed. Minho would even go as far as to call him a friend. They spoke with more ease, and Minho felt comfortable telling Jisung things about himself. He’d mastered hiding himself from the city, sitting at an angle where only Jisung could see his face. With each week that went by without any news about Minho’s secret identity being revealed, the worries in the back of his mind dwindled little by little until they were gone altogether.

Minho had started talking to Jisung simply because he was a good speaker. He had a way with his words that always calmed Minho down, even if his energy was to the max. But he had realized that he and Jisung had a lot more in common than he realized, and it was kind of nice to talk to someone who understood, even if it was just the small things.

It was also a relief to have someone other than Changbin and his mom knowing about his big secret. Not that Changbin wasn’t enough, but it was reassuring to know that he didn’t have to annoy Changbin with all of his supervillain problems. The fact that Jisung knew his identity seemed to satisfy his urge to scream his name at the top of his lungs in the middle of a battle while he was suited up.

And Jisung was a pretty cool guy. That was nice too.

-

“Why’d your mom decide to become a supervillain?” Jisung asked Minho one night. The atmosphere was eerily silent, aside from the echoed sound of music in the distance.

“Because the world is doomed.”

Jisung quirked an eyebrow at him. “Elaborate?”

Minho leaned his head back in thought. “The government and police force is useless. They don’t care about our wellbeing. Everyone in the system is power hungry and only takes action when it benefits themselves.” He glanced at Jisung before continuing. “All the heroes are corrupt and self-absorbed. The only thing they want is fame and glory, they don’t actually care about us. So, my mom’s trying to overthrow the system and create a better one.”

Jisung hummed. “In other words, take over the world?”

Minho scowled at him. “No. Just organize a rebellion”

“So basically, take over the world.”

“Shut up.”

Jisung grinned. Minho couldn’t help but notice that his smile was heart shaped. 

“Well,” Jisung began, his demeanor changing to a serious one. “I can understand that. I don’t like the way she's going about it, but I understand.”

Minho raised his eyebrows. “You do?”

Jisung nodded. “Yeah. Society is pretty messed up. A lot of the heroes out there get on my nerves. You can see right through their fake, charismatic smiles…” He frowned.

Minho saw Jisung getting drowned in his own thoughts, and waited a moment before gently nudging his foot, bringing him back to reality. “I’m glad you see that. Not a lot of people do.”

Jisung huffed. “I wish I didn’t see it.”

Minho gave him a sad smile. “Don’t we all.”

“Still don’t like what your mom’s doing.”

Me neither. “I know.”

Later, as Minho was getting ready to leave, Jisung pulled a marker out of his pocket. “You know, I think it’s only appropriate that we have each other’s phone numbers. We could actually coordinate these meetings, we are friends after all.”

Minho’s heart skipped a beat, which he struggled not to let Jisung see. “Oh, so we’re friends now?” 

He watched as Jisung’s cheeks turned a shade of light pink, which he almost didn’t catch, the only light source being the dim streetlights below them. “Oh, I mean I- I just assumed we were? Sorry, I didn’t want to overstep, if you’re not—”

“Dude, just give me your number.”

Jisung flashed a sheepish smile.

Minho unattached the left glove from his suit and held out his palm to Jisung, who took it in his hands. The marker’s ink tickled his skin, and electricity ran up his arm from where Jisung’s fingertips rested on his wrist.

As he lay under his covers that night, he pulled out his phone and entered the number written on his hand into a new contact.

[Minho]
hi squirrel boy it’s minho

A few minutes passed before he got a response.

[Jisung]
squirrel boy?

[Minho]
ya u look like a squirrel lol

[Jisung]
how ???

[Minho]
ur cheeks

[Jisung]
rude -.-

Minho fell asleep with warmth filling his chest.

-

Minho plopped down at his regular lunch table next to Changbin, across from two of his other close friends, Chan and Seungmin. Chan was a year ahead of Minho, while Seungmin was the same age as Jisung. The two of them seemed to be having an adamant conversation, so Minho took it as his chance to lean in and whisper to Changbin. “So I guess we’re friends now.”

Changbin whipped his head around to look at him. “You mean you and…?”

Minho nodded.

Changbin grinned. “I mean, I already knew that, but the fact that you’re admitting it—”

Minho shoved his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“What was the confirmation?”

“We exchanged numbers.” Minho showed him his left palm as proof.

Changbin stared at Minho, looked down at his palm, then back at Minho. He smirked. “Exchanged numbers, huh?”

“C’mon, it’s not like that—”

“What’s this about exchanging numbers?” Minho turned to see Seungmin staring at him with wide, mischievous eyes, and amusement written all over Chan’s face.

Minho started for a moment, trying to come up with something. He waved his hand around dismissively. “Ah, nobody, just this kid I keep bumping into on the way to school.” He pointed an accusatory finger at the two boys. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Seungmin’s smirk just grew wider. “Then what’s the significance of getting his number?”

“Because,” Minho puffed out his cheeks in thought, trying to buy time. “He used to annoy me, and now he doesn’t. Pretty big deal, if you ask me.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Well, maybe it was. Jisung never annoyed him.

Seungmin hummed noncommittally. Minho shot him the most intimidating glare he could muster.

“What’s his name? Does he go here? He should sit with us,” Chan said, looking around the cafeteria.

Minho shook his head. “He doesn’t go here, he goes to a private school.” He paused, debating whether he should tell them Jisung’s real name or make up one. Would they make the connection? If Minho hadn’t known HYH had a son, they wouldn’t either, right? 

“His name’s Jisung.” He was pretty sure Jisung was a common enough name.

They looked at him blankly. “Okay,” Seungmin drawled. “Is there anything else to him?”

Minho let out a breath of relief that hopefully looked like a huff of annoyance to the other boys. “He talks a lot. He gets nervous pretty easily, but also gets excited about really weird stuff. He’s a good storyteller.” He paused. “And… he looks like a squirrel.”

Chan shrugged. “Seems cool to me.”

Seungmin wrinkled up his nose. “You’re terrible at describing people.”

Changbin nudged Minho’s shoulder. “I hope you introduce him to us one day.”

Minho scowled. “We’re not that close. Why is this such a big deal to you guys? Can we move on?”

“Who wants to bet they’ll end up together?” Seungmin turned to Changbin and Chan, ignoring Minho. “$10 it’s in three months.”

“That’s way too soon, more like six, knowing Minho and his tendency to pretend he hates the world.” The smug look on Changbin’s face was infuriating.

“Stop betting on my life!” Minho groaned. “You’re both gonna end up with no money, because it’s not gonna happen.” He made a point of looking directly at Changbin as he spoke.

“You got his number.” Seungmin deadpanned.

“Okay? That’s something you do with friends. Do I not have all of your numbers?”

Seungmin took a bite of his sandwich. “Just a vibe I’m getting.”

Minho looked to Chan for backup, who simply shrugged apologetically. 

Minho sighed. “You’re all useless.”

-

Minho was sitting in his history class, bored out of his mind and fighting off sleep when he got the text.

His phone buzzed next to him, and he took a quick look at the screen before he realized who the text was from and did a double take.

[Jisung]
hey are u busy today?

Minho’s heart jumped in his chest. This was the first time Jisung had texted him since the night they’d exchanged numbers, which had been a week prior. He glanced at his teacher and slipped his phone into his lap, trying to look inconspicuous. 

[Minho]
no why

[Jisung]
uhhh well
i was gonna hang out with my friend today but he had to cancel
and all of my other friends are busy
and i don’t rlly wanna go home today

Minho’s eyes widened. What?

[Minho]<
r u asking me to hang out rn

[Jisung]
nah
just wanted to see if ur real during the day or not
maybe ur a vampire who knows

Minho covered his face with his arm to hide his smile that was daring to peek out.

[Minho]
fair enough
what’s ur plan then

[Jisung]
meet me @ the coffee place near my apartment building at 4 pm?

[Minho]
sounds good

He ignored his stomach doing backflips.

-

After telling his mom that he was going to go to Changbin’s house, he started his walk towards Jisung’s apartment building. He wasn’t entirely sure where the coffee place he was looking for was, but he thought he remembered seeing it at some point while on Jisung’s balcony.

This was the first time he was meeting Jisung without his suit on, and that scared him for some reason. There was a voice in the back of his mind telling him that Jisung only liked talking to him because of the thrill of being associated with someone he wasn’t supposed to be associated with. When Minho was just another regular 17 year old, would Jisung still see the point of being friends?

As Minho approached Jisung’s apartment building, he looked across the street and spotted a small, cozy looking coffeehouse, which he assumed was the place Jisung was talking about. Sure enough, once he got closer he spotted the brown haired boy sitting next to the window, tapping a fast paced rhythm into the table. Minho wondered if that was a nervous habit. He was wearing another oversized sweater, silver earrings, and a black beanie pulled over his hair, save for the ends of his bangs peeking out from underneath. He looked cute.

Hold on, what? Cute? Minho mentally slapped himself.

When he opened the door, the soft sound of a ringing bell resonated through the room, and Jisung looked up from staring at the floor. He made eye contact with Minho, and his face lit up. He enthusiastically beckoned Minho over.

“So you’re not a vampire or a figment of my imagination, huh?” Jisung drawled, grinning at Minho.

Minho shrugged. “Guess not. Unless you’re dreaming right now.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Jisung glared at him.
After Jisung explained the menu to Minho and told him what his favorite things to order were, they got in line, shuffling around the other people scattered throughout the shop. They both order iced americanos, despite the chilly weather, Jisung’s with extra sweetener. He also ordered a piece of cheesecake.

(“Are you sure you don’t want a bite?”

“And risk catching your mouth germs? No, thanks.”)

Conversation was strangely easy with Jisung. They flowed through topics smoothly, never an uncomfortable moment between them. If they did go quiet, it wasn’t awkward. Just a comforting, peaceful silence as they sipped their freezing drinks.

Minho was surprised that everything felt so… ordinary. They never spoke a word about their parents’ feud, or even mentioned anything about Minho’s secret identity. They only talked about regular teenager things, like homework, or teachers they hated, or stupid gossip in their seperate friend groups. Jisung told Minho all about his fancy private school, and Minho explained the struggles of going to a public school. It was as if they didn’t meet each other in an evil lab while Jisung was stuck in a metal contraption, and then continued to secretly meet up on Jisung’s balcony in the middle of the night. As if they really were just two kids who bumped into each other walking to school.

And Minho would never admit it, but he was relieved. Relieved that Jisung didn’t just see him as a source of an adrenaline rush, that he genuinely considered Minho a friend, for whatever reason.

After they finished their drinks, they sat talking for another half hour or so before Minho checked his phone and saw that it was already 5:45. 

“Ah, I’m really sorry, but I need to start getting home,” He sighed. “I promised my mom I’d be back by 6:30. You told me you didn’t want to go home today… are you gonna be okay?”

The corners of Jisung’s mouth twitched up slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” There was a moment where he just looked at Minho with appreciative eyes, before they started twinkling playfully. “So you do care!”

“No. Just being a decent human being.”

“I think you care about me, Minho!”

“Sometimes I wonder whether you’re the one with a supervillain for a parent, considering how much you act like a brat.”

Minho walked Jisung to the front of his apartment and bid him goodbye, contentment keeping him warm and making him forget about his problems for a couple minutes.

For the next few weeks, Minho got texts from Jisung way more often. Jisung texted him whenever plans with his friends fell through, or when he was bored and just wanted something to do after school. They sometimes met at the coffee shop when Minho was especially tired and needed coffee, or just went for walks around the city, taking turns showing each other their favorite places to visit.

With each time they hung out in the daylight, their 3 am rendezvous happened less and less. Eventually, they stopped all together. Minho felt like they’d come to an unspoken agreement that it was safer to meet up when Minho looked like a regular civilian, in normal places that normal people spent their time at.

One Thursday afternoon, they were sitting in the outdoor seating area of an ice cream place Jisung really liked. Minho had gotten one scoop of mint chocolate chip, while Jisung had gotten two scoops of plain chocolate. Minho’s eyes followed a drip of melted ice cream that ran down Jisung’s cone and along the curve of his hand, before Jisung leaned down and licked it off his wrist.

Minho wrinkled up his nose. “Gross.” 

Jisung stuck out his tongue. “What, like you wouldn’t do the same?”

“I would get a napkin and wipe it away like a regular person.”

“What kind of regular people do you hang out with? They sound pretty boring to me.”

Minho kicked him under the table.

They sat in silence for a while, peacefully eating their ice cream and watching the people pass by, the chilly air blowing across Minho’s face and making him shiver. Why did they always decide to get cold food in the midst of winter?

“How did we get here?” Jisung’s voice registered in Minho’s mind, and he glanced at him.

“What do you mean?” 

Jisung rested his cheek in his empty hand, staring up at the buildings in the distance. “Like, you and me. Here. We are literally the two people that are least likely to become friends, yet here we are, hanging out after school and teasing each other like we’ve known each other for years.” He turned to Minho, his doe eyes wide and inquizitive. “How did that happen?” 

Minho blinked, and stared at Jisung for a couple seconds. How did they get here? Minho rarely let people into his life so easily, let alone someone who was related to the man that had almost been the reason for his mother’s downfall on several occasions. It felt like it all happened so fast. Just a couple months ago, Minho was scared shitless that Jisung was going to expose his identity for the world to know. Now, Minho felt like he could trust Jisung with more than just his identity.

As he looked at Jisung, he felt the invisible rope tied around his waist tug at him, harder than ever. Jisung’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, his hair gently ruffling in the breeze. The tip of his nose was tinted pink from the cold, and his cheek was squished up from where it was resting in his hand. Minho felt his heartbeat stutter.

What is this feeling?

He tore his eyes away, casting his eyes to the cloudy sky instead. “I don’t know.” He shrugged, trying to act as calm as possible with his heart loudly hammering. “Fate works in funny ways sometimes.”

The city seemed to go quiet, the sound of distant traffic the only thing that Minho could process.

“Yeah,” Jisung murmured, soft and tentative. “Yeah, it does.”

-

Minho slammed his front door behind him, frustration making him careless as he almost tripped when he dropped his backpack to the floor, right in front of his path.

“Minho, don’t slam the door!” His mom yelled over her shoulder as she walked towards the living room. Minho wasted no time in making his way up to his room and slamming that door, too.

He and his mother had just gotten home from their safe house after a mission, and needless to say, Minho was fed up. This time, his mom had wreaked havoc in an area of the city that HYH was set to respond to, in hopes of getting him to come out and fight her after she had upgraded one of her gadgets. Of course, that made Minho’s anxiety shoot into the sky, as his mom usually didn’t take him with her to fight HYH, and… well, you could probably guess what else made fighting HYH especially difficult.

Luckily, HYH wasn’t the one that responded to the incident, and they fought some hero that Minho didn’t really know much about. They got away without a scratch, but Minho was on edge for the entire evening. The idea of fighting HYH made him feel sick; not because he cared about the man himself. He felt like he would be betraying Jisung’s trust.

The mission as a whole had taken a toll on him. Each time he went out to fight with his mom, he felt more and more disgusted with himself. He had watched his mom destroy windows of family businesses and small apartments, watched her throw heavy objects into crowds of people and almost crushing innocent civilians, watched her shove the poor hero who was just trying to do his job into brick walls and then pick him up and throw him around some more. And Minho hadn’t done anything to stop her. He had even helped her.

But no matter how much he hated himself for it, he couldn’t stop. Not when he had no idea where he’d go if he left his mother’s side.

He threw himself into his bed. Was he destined to be stuck as this horrible monster for the rest of his life, all because he was too much of a coward to find his true self?

Hell, what was he saying? He didn’t have a true self. All he amounted to was a sidekick, the side character of his own story. The one that only existed for the benefit of the antagonist.

He buried his face into his pillow and willed himself to fall asleep before he got too lost in his own head.

-

Jisung nudged Minho’s shoulder with his own. “Hey. You okay?”

Minho nodded and twirled a blade of grass between his fingers, his eyes trained on the ground. He’d been stuck in a slump for a few days since the mission, barely able to get himself out of bed to go to school, let alone do any work or socialize with his friends. His mind had been too hung up on its own thoughts, draining all his energy.

So when Jisung texted him that afternoon during fifth period, he hesitated for a second. Would he end up being rude to Jisung in his emotional state? He thought he should postpone it for another time, so he didn’t ruin Jisung’s day, as well.

But then he thought about it. This was Jisung, who could make Minho laugh more than anyone else he knew, who was a walking happiness pill. Maybe, just maybe, he’d make Minho feel a little better.

So there he sat, side by side with Jisung in the park, wrapped up in his winter jacket and trying to stay in as many sunny patches that bled through the trees as he could. The grass tickled his bare ankles a little, and Jisung’s knee bumped against his leg every time he moved.

“Just tired,” He grumbled.

Jisung frowned slightly at him, but didn’t question him any further. “Me too.” He flopped back into the grass, the trees casting shadows across his face. “I feel like everything has been so… heavy recently.” He turned to Minho. “Do you know what I mean?”

Minho swallowed. “Yeah.”

Jisung nodded solemnly and fixated his eyes on the bare branches above them. “There’s something in the air, I think. Probably why you’re feeling down.” He glanced back at Minho, a certain look in his eyes. “It’ll pass soon. Don’t worry.”

Minho had a feeling Jisung could tell what he was thinking. 

“You better be right,” He croaked.

Jisung smiled at him, and Minho felt some of the weight being lifted off his shoulders.

Suddenly, Jisung snapped his fingers and abruptly sat up. “I know something that might wake you up.”

Minho warily raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay…?”

Jisung grinned. “You wanna come to my apartment and watch a movie?”

Minho felt his eyes turn into saucers. “Go to your apartment. As in… inside? Going into your apartment?”

Jisung nodded, his grin slowly morphing into a smirk.

Minho gaped at him. “But… your mom… is she home?”

“Yeah, she got off early today.” Jisung shrugged. “And for all she knows, you’re just another 17 year old named Minho.”

Minho couldn’t seem to get a word out of his mouth. He blinked once, twice, then fervently shook himself to get his brain to wake back up. “I mean… sure. I guess.”

And that’s how he ended up walking through the front door of Jisung’s apartment, his pulse strong and legs shaking.

As soon as he stepped inside, he immediately recognized the living room that was directly in front of the entryway, and the glass door that led out to the balcony that he’d sat on so many times just two months ago. He saw the kitchen to the right of the entryway, and a short hallway to the left. It was a cozy little place, Minho appreciated what Jisung and his mom had done to make it so inviting.

“Mom!” Jisung yelled, dropping his backpack to the floor. “I have a friend over, we’ll be in my room if you need us!”

“Oh, hold on!” A woman’s voice carried through the apartment, and Minho heard light footsteps getting closer.

A lady appeared around the corner, and upon seeing Minho, she beamed. She had the same bright and heart shaped smile as Jisung.

“Hi, honey, I’m Jisung’s mother.” She held out a welcoming hand to him.

He stared at it for a second, before processing that he was supposed to shake it. He hesitantly took it, praying that she wouldn’t notice that his hands were trembling and clammy. “Uh, Minho. I’m Minho.”

Her smile grew and she gently dropped his hand. “Lovely to meet you, Minho.”

Minho attempted to replicate her friendliness, failing miserably with an awkward grimace. It was kind of hard to think straight when he was standing in the entryway of HYH’s ex wife’s apartment. If she knew who he really was… 

“Do you want anything to eat? I could get us some food.” Jisung’s light touch on his arm brought Minho back to reality.

He nodded stiffly. “Yeah, sure.”

Jisung pointed down the hall. “My room is just down there, second door on the right, if you wanna wait in there.”

Minho nodded again, and bowed to Jisung’s mom before speed walking towards the room Jisung had indicated.

He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, exhaling slowly. He turned around and took in his surroundings.

Jisung’s room was small, but not cramped at all. There was a big window on the wall facing the city that had a pretty decent view, and the orange light of the sun setting streamed through it and painted a golden rectangle on the opposite wall. The room was a bit cluttered, but in a homey way. Posters were hastily stuck up all over the walls, and Minho smiled at the thought of Jisung standing on his tiptoes on his bed to try and get one poster that was particularly high up on his wall. The room just screamed Jisung, and he felt himself calming down with each second he stood in it.

He heard the sound of the door opening behind him, and in stumbled Jisung. Four big bags of chips, one pack of cookies, and three bottles of water were piled up in his arms.

Minho held in his laugh as he rushed to grab some of the stuff. “Why did you get so much? There’s only two of us, you know.”

“You don’t know how much I can eat.”

Minho shot him a look of disgust.

Jisung glared at him. “What, like you’re not exactly the same? I saw you order that giant double cheeseburger and large fries when we went to that burger place.”

“I hadn’t eaten all day!”

They settled down on Jisung’s bed as Jisung pulled out his laptop from under it. A couple plushies sat next to his pillows, which Minho noticed when one of them fell into his lap when he sunk into the mattress. 

He picked it up and smiled. “A squirrel? Cute.”

Jisung’s cheeks turned pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, my friend Felix gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday.”

“So I’m not the only one who thinks you look like a squirrel!”
Jisung’s cheeks went from a light pink to a deep red at that, and he shoved Minho over. “It was a coincidence!”

Minho just giggled as he pushed himself back into an upright position.

Jisung turned his scowling face to the computer screen, typing in his password and opening up a browser. “What do you wanna watch?”

Minho hummed. “I don’t know. Pick something you think I’d like.”

Jisung scrunched his eyebrows together and pursed his lips in thought for a second, before perking up as excitement lit up his eyes. “Have you ever seen Kiki's Delivery Service?”

Minho shook his head.

“Oh my god.” Jisung hurriedly typed in the name of the movie, clicking links so fast Minho couldn’t keep up. “You’re gonna love it. It’s about this girl who’s a witch, and she has to leave home for a year so she knows how to be by herself, and she has a cat—oh, wow, you’re gonna love that cat—and—”

“Alright, alright! Stop before you spoil the whole thing, let’s watch!” 

They both lay down on their stomachs and propped Jisung’s laptop up on one of his pillows, Jisung grabbing a second one to hug as he watched. He had been right when he said Minho would like it; Minho was invested from the first scene. Kiki was adorable, and he thought the scenery in the movie was beautiful. And just as Jisung had promised, the cat—Jiji—stole Minho’s heart. He was the perfect companion for Kiki, and pulled at the reader’s heartstrings in just the right ways. Minho loved cats in general, anyway.

Watching with Jisung made the movie even more of an enjoyable experience. He made little comments about certain scenes that made Minho practically double over in laughter, and just had good insight about the meaning behind certain characters and the movie itself. With him, and only him, Minho didn’t really mind if he was talking over the dialogue. 

Towards the end of the movie, a scene came on where Kiki was trying to get her broom to fly, but kept on falling to the ground. Minho frowned at the screen when the broomstick handle broke, and nudged Jisung’s arm. “Does she get it to start working again?”

No response. 

Minho didn’t look away from the screen but nudged Jisung again. “Hey, did you hear me?”

No response again.

Minho huffed and tore his eyes away from the screen, only to be met with a sight he hadn’t exactly been expecting: Jisung had fallen asleep.

Minho blinked and paused the movie to check the time. It was only 9:45. He chuckled. Maybe Jisung actually had been as tired as he said he was when he was talking about the “heavy air”.

He tried to work out what to do from there. Should he wake up Jisung and continue the movie, or just finish it by himself? It wouldn’t nearly be as entertaining without Jisung’s commentary, but Minho also didn’t want to disturb his rest if he was tired.

He sighed and peered at Jisung’s sleeping figure. His arms were wrapped around the pillow he’d been cuddling, his face pressed up against the plush surface. His mouth hung open a little, and his breathing was slow and steady. His bangs fell into his eyes and the rest of his hair had messily flopped onto the pillow. He looked so at peace as the light from the computer screen illuminated his face, his features completely relaxed and soft.

Minho found himself smiling as his gaze got stuck on Jisung. He really had lucked out when he decided to get over himself and become friends with this kid. Jisung made him feel the most human he’d ever felt in his life. With small gestures, he made sure Minho knew that he didn’t think there was anything wrong with him, that he saw past Minho’s… alter ego. He barely even brought up their parents’ conflicts. He made Minho feel that maybe he did deserve to be the main character of his own story, that he was his own person beside being his mother’s sidekick.

He reached out and slowly pushed Jisung’s bangs out of his eyes, careful not to wake him in the process. His hand tingled as the hair brushed against his fingers. Electricity fizzled through him, sending a rush of emotion through his body and into his veins, and with a jolt he realized—

He had feelings for Jisung. 

Fuck, he had feelings for Jisung.

He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, and scrambled to stand up. Of course he liked Jisung. How had he not realized before? That explained why his whole body tingled whenever Jisung touched him, the invisible rope he felt tied between the two of them getting stronger with each day, the way his heart fluttered whenever Jisung smiled. How could he not like Jisung, when he was the person that he was? When he made Minho happier than he’d ever been?

As Minho stared at him, the sight of his angel-like sleeping figure caused more and more panic with each moment that passed. He couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t.

He rushed to gather his things and made for the door, his heartbeat fluctuating as he tried to take deep breaths to get it to stabilize again.

He grabbed the door handle, but hesitated. He glanced back at Jisung. Should he leave a note? Close his laptop so that the battery didn’t die? It would be rude to just up and leave without an explanation, wouldn’t it?

But he felt his stomach doing somersaults again, and decided that no, he had to go before this got out of hand.

He quietly slipped out of Jisung’s room and left the apartment as quickly as possible, his footsteps echoing throughout the building’s stairwell as he dashed down each level. When he made it to the street, he tried to walk as calmly as possible. Everything would be okay. He just needed to get home and sleep on it. It would all work out.

But as his mind trailed along, he realized he couldn’t go home. Not yet. He couldn’t deal with his mom in this mindset.

He took a different turn, and felt his legs start to move more quickly. His feet hit the pavement harder and harder, and before he realized what was happening, he had started jogging. His legs moved faster and faster and faster, and he broke into a sprint, running along the sidewalk like it was his lifeline. 

He ran for what felt like an eternity before he got to where he needed to be. He scaled the stairs leading to the front door of the townhouse, urgently ringing the doorbell twice. 

About 30 seconds passed before Changbin appeared in the doorway, his face morphing from one of annoyance to confusion when he saw that it was Minho.

“Minho?” He opened his screen door and leaned against the doorframe. “What are you doing here? It’s 10:00.” He frowned when he noticed Minho’s state. “Did you run here?”

Minho opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the words to say. He didn’t know how to explain, or how to preface it, so he just said it bluntly.

“I have feelings for Jisung.” He exhaled. 

Changbin stared at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m serious. Shit, Changbin.” He leaned his head back and fixed his eyes on the moon glowing behind the clouds. “This is bad. I’m doomed to be hurt, there’s literally no possible way of this working out. How did I let this happen? I’ve set myself up for destruction, how am I supposed to—”

“Hey,” Changbin cut him off and pulled him into his arms. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. You’re gonna be okay.”

Minho buried his face into Changbin’s shoulder and took a shaky breath, screwing his eyes shut. “I hope you’re right.”

-

Minho spent the next couple days evaluating his sudden awareness of his feelings, and what he was going to do about it. He’d calmed down by the morning after, and flipped over his phone to see a message from Jisung.

[Jisung]
ahhh i’m so sorry i fell asleep!! but u didn’t have to pause the movie!! it was so close to the end :(

Minho had let out a breath of relief at knowing that Jisung hadn’t taken him leaving without saying goodbye the wrong way.

[Minho]
it’s fine, and idk it felt wrong to finish it without u
plus i thought it’d be creepy if i just sat in ur room as u slept lol

[Jisung]
hmmm fair
but we’re finishing it at some point >:(

With Changbin’s assistance, Minho finally came to the conclusion that he’d just try to ignore his feelings until they went away, since there was no way they could safely be together. Not while he lived at home, or even had anything to do with his mother.

Plus, Jisung didn’t see him that way, and probably never would.

The weeks went by, and February blended into March. The weather slowly got warmer and flowers on the trees in the park started to bud. School got more hectic, and Minho barely made it out alive when unlawful amounts of work were piled on top of him. He started going to Changbin’s house more often so that they could study together, which helped him concentrate, and he always did better on tests when he studied with Changbin beforehand. He still hung out with Jisung regularly, which wasn’t helping his plan of willing his feelings away, but he couldn’t not hang out with him. Not when he’d become such a staple in his life.

Around mid-March, Minho’s teachers all decided to schedule their exams at the same time. Almost every day of the week, he had a different test to take. He was overwhelmed to the max, and spent all of his free time either doing his homework, at Changbin’s house studying, or sleeping. As a result, he didn’t see Jisung for about two weeks. They still texted occasionally, but Minho was mainly focused on school and making sure he didn’t completely bomb his tests.

The hellish week finally ended after five gnarly tests, and Minho used the weekend as his time to catch up on some well-needed rest, getting some time to himself and recharging.

When he went back to school on Monday, it was nowhere near as crazy as it had been for the last week. He was sitting at his regular table in the cafeteria, having left his lunch money at home. His friends’ chatter buzzed around his head that was lying in his arms when his phone went off.

[Jisung]
what time do u get out of school again

Minho rested his chin on his arm and typed out a quick response

[Minho]
3:15
why

[Jisung]
just curious!

Minho narrowed his eyes at the screen, but shut off his phone nonetheless and reengaged himself in his friends’ conversation.

Later in the afternoon, after his last class, he was walking out of the front door with Changbin, Chan, and Seungmin towards the bike racks, where Seungmin’s bike was locked up. He was making some kind of stupid joke when Chan interrupted. “Who’s that guy standing by the gates? I don’t recognize him.”

“Probably just a kid from a different school meeting one of his friends,” Minho said, then he glanced up, and he almost choked on his own spit. “Oh, no fucking way.” 

There, with his hands awkwardly shoved into his school uniform’s pockets and his eyes searching the sea of people, stood Han Jisung.

Changbin turned to him with wide eyes. “Is that…?”

Minho nodded. “Yep.” He raised his hand to try and get Jisung’s attention. “Jisung!”

Jisung’s head snapped in Minho’s direction, and his eyes lit up as he started pushing his way through the crowd of kids.

“Wait, Jisung? As in the guy he met walking to school?”

“He’s meeting him here? There’s no way that kid doesn’t have a crush.” 

“Can you guys shut up?” Minho hissed over his shoulder.

Jisung finally made it to where Minho and his friends were standing, a friendly look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Minho immediately demanded.

Jisung’s grin just widened. “Surprise?”

Minho gave him a bored stare. “Okay, yeah, but why?”

“Oh, come on!” Jisung whined. “We haven’t seen each other for two weeks! I thought we could do something fun today!”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Well, it better be good. Don’t you have school, too? How’d you get here so fast?”

“I get out at 2:45.”

“Oh.” He checked his watch. “You still got here pretty quickly, it’s a twenty five minute walk to get here from your school…”

“I make such an effort to see you, and all you do is make fun of me!”

“Hey, Minho?” Seungmin’s voice interrupted their banter, and Minho turned to him. 

“Do you think you could maybe introduce us?” He deadpanned, although Minho didn’t miss the knowing flash in his eyes.

Minho shot him a dirty look, then turned to his friends with a sigh. “Jisung, this is Changbin, Chan, and Seungmin. Guys, this is Jisung. He’s the same age as Seungmin.” The three of them provided friendly waves and smiles.

“You know,” Changbin started, “Minho talks about you a lot. You’ve been a really good friend to him, and I appreciate that you’re in his life.”

Jisung’s eyes went round, like a deer caught in headlights. Minho’s heart leaped into his throat. 

“Really?” He glanced at Minho, an unreadable look in his eyes. It was frustrating when Minho couldn’t tell what Jisung was thinking. He was able to read Jisung easily after almost five months of being friends, his eyes were so telling of what was going on in his head.

But the look was gone in an instant, replaced with a playful glint. “What can I say? I just have that impact on people.”

Changbin laughed as Minho spluttered in denial.

For the next couple minutes, the five of them held a comfortable conversation about the differences between Jisung and the other boys’ school, how they’d all became friends, and—to Minho’s distaste—a couple embarrassing childhood stories about Minho told in great detail by Changbin.

“...and then, he tripped on his shoelaces, falling down two stories of—”

“Jisung!” Minho grabbed Jisung’s forearm frantically, having had enough of the humiliation. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere to take me?”

Jisung gave him a confused look. “Yeah…?”

“Great! We should get going then!” Minho linked his arm with Jisung’s and started dragging him towards the school gates. “See you guys later!”

He caught Seungmin winking obnoxiously at him, and he flipped him off over his shoulder.

“I wanted to hear the end of that story!” Jisung pouted.

“It was boring anyway.” Minho made a point of not looking at Jisung. “Where are we going?”

Jisung sighed, seemingly accepting the fact that he’d never hear the rest of the story. “I told you, it’s a surprise!”

Minho raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, I’ll probably be able to guess where we’re going based on the direction we’re walking.” He tapped the side of his head. “Perks of years of flying around the city.”

Jisung rolled his eyes. “Well, whatever! I’m still not telling you!”

They made their way along the sidewalk, walking several blocks. Throughout the walk, Minho made a point of calling out every possible place they could be going to, just to annoy Jisung. They took two lefts, three rights, and another left, before finally coming to a halt. Jisung had taken Minho to a small diner near the outskirts of the city.

“Have you eaten lunch?” Jisung asked.

Minho shook his head.

“I remember you told me you thought jukeboxes were cool, and I heard the food here was pretty good, so…” Jisung trailed off, and turned to Minho with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Minho’s heart skipped a beat. Jisung was not making this whole forgetting about his feelings thing easy. “Jisung, this is really sweet, but I don’t have any money with me.”

Jisung’s eyes lit up. “That’s okay! I was planning on paying for you, anyway.”

Minho stared at him with his mouth agape for a second, trying to come up with something to say. 

Jisung smiled at him. “Say yes.”

Minho huffed. “I’m older, I should be paying.”

“You’ve paid for me so many times, let me do it just this once!” Jisung frowned. “Plus, I know you’ve had a long week, so I thought I’d treat you. Please?”

Minho felt an ache in his chest as he looked at Jisung. The fact that Jisung had noticed how hard he’d been working, and really cared about it, made Minho want to melt. His hand involuntarily tightened on Jisung’s arm as he tried not to show his emotions on his face.

Wait, Jisung’s arm?

He looked down to see that they were still linking arms. 

He felt heat rush to his cheeks and ears, and awkwardly pulled his arm out of Jisung’s hold. “Fine. Let’s go.” 

He began to make his way to the door of the diner, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt to cover his red ears. Jisung let out a noise of triumph behind him.

They were seated at a booth with a mini jukebox, which made Minho’s heart leap. They spent about ten minutes picking out what they were going to have, Minho pretending that he was going to order the most expensive thing on the menu the whole time.

“I don’t know, this steak is looking pretty good… you’re paying, right?”

“Minho. Don’t you dare.”  

Of course, when they actually ordered, he just got a turkey sandwich. Jisung got pancakes, which Minho thought was such a Jisung thing to do. 

The whole time, Minho found himself eyeing the jukebox. He wanted to look through the songs, to see how the whole thing worked, or just touch it, but he didn’t want Jisung to feel like he had to pay to play a song, or think Minho was trying to hint that he wanted him to.

But after they ordered, Minho was staring out of the window when he saw Jisung’s hand move in his peripheral vision. He glanced over to see Jisung sliding a coin across the table.

Jisung smirked. “I’ve seen you looking at that jukebox like it’s your lifeline. Just play a song.”

Minho glared at him, but gently took the coin nonetheless, ignoring the jolt that ran up his arm when their fingers brushed.

He slowly went through the song catalog, thoroughly considering his options. Each song was labeled with the name, who it was by, and a code to type in if you wanted to play it. Minho felt himself smiling as he looked at the little pictures of people dancing next to some of the songs.

He turned another page, and a song in particular caught his eye. Yellow Submarine, by The Beatles. E26.

Minho grinned and inserted the coin into the machine, quickly punching in the code once it was accepted. A few seconds later, the soft, crackly sound of the song played through the speaker.

A fond look appeared on Jisung’s face. “Yellow Submarine, huh?”

Minho nodded. “It was my favorite song when I was little. My mom played it whenever I was in a bad mood, and it’d instantly make me feel better.” 

Jisung smiled again, but there was something else behind it. Something more melancholy. “I hate to admit it, but it’s kind of nice that your mom was still devoting so much time to you, even though she was dealing with plenty of other stuff.”

Minho nodded. “Yeah. I’ll always be grateful for that. She always makes time to show she loves me, even while she’s plotting a revolution.”

Jisung looked down at his hands, which were fiddling with his napkin. “That’s really cool. I wish…” He stopped mid sentence, a dejected look passing through his face. Minho noticed, and opened his mouth to say something—

Jisung’s fork fell to the floor, effectively snapping him out of his trance. 

He eyed the fork with confused eyes. “I swear that was just sitting in the middle of the table…”

Minho leaned over to pick the fork off the floor before it was unsalvageable, but when he sat back up, a forced smile was plastered on Jisung’s face. “Sorry, I interrupted. Tell me more.”

Minho raised an eyebrow at him, but Jisung motioned for him to keep going. Minho didn’t want to push him to elaborate on something he didn’t want to talk about, so he reluctantly continued. 

“Well, I used to make up whole choreographies to that song, with the dancing skills a five year old would have.”

Jisung giggled. “Choreography? So you’re a dancer, and you didn’t tell me?”

Minho felt the corners of his mouth quirk up. “I know you’re kidding, but yeah, I used to be.”

Jisung’s eyes widened. “Wait, actually?”

Minho hummed. “Mhm. I started taking classes when I was about seven. My mom had seen that I liked to dance, and wanted to keep me occupied while she… well, you know.” He rested his cheek in his hand, staring up at the ceiling as he reminisced. “I loved it. It was all I ever wanted to do. Dancing was the one thing that made me feel free, I wanted to do it forever. I dreamed of seriously choreographing routines, winning huge competitions, becoming a backup dancer for some huge celebrity. It was all I could ever see myself doing. But, when I turned twelve, my mom wanted me to start being more involved in her… affairs. So I stopped taking classes.” He pursed his lips. “I miss it sometimes.” 

He missed it a little more than just sometimes.

Jisung stared at him. “Is it still something you’re still passionate about? Do you think you’ll pursue it?”

“Of course I’m still passionate about it. I love dance.” Minho sighed. “But I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pursue it. I…”

He trailed off. I’ll never be able to escape the life of being a sidekick to my mom. I haven’t danced in years, I wouldn’t be any good anymore, so why should I leave the life I have now for something that I clearly won’t succeed in? I’m not deserving of it anyway. I should live the rest of my life doing something I hate, I’ve done too many horrible things to be allowed to have a happy life. What would happen if I left my mom, anyway? There’s too much to risk for something I don’t even deserve… 

“...I’m really out of practice. It wouldn’t work out.” He finished.

Jisung frowned. “But if you’re passionate about it, you should do it.”

Minho shook his head. “Ah, I was exaggerating. I’m not that into it, it’s not meant for me.”

Jisung blinked at him. “You were literally just waxing lyrical about how—”

“Jisung,” Minho interrupted. “Drop it. Please?”

Jisung started at Minho’s sharp tone, but nodded. He looked like a kicked puppy, and Minho felt horrible. He wanted to say something, to apologize, to take his hand. But he couldn’t, no matter how hard he willed himself to.

Finally, their food arrived, lifting the blanket of awkwardness off their shoulders. They dug in, exchanging bites of each other’s food and easily slipping back into their comfortable dynamic.

The afternoon passed by in a blur, and before Minho knew it, both their plates were clean and the sun was starting to set outside. Jisung covered the check, and they walked out with warm stomachs and laughter spilling from their lips.

They walked a little further together, before reaching the point in the walk where they’d need to go separate directions to get home. Jisung turned to look at Minho, and Minho’s breath got stuck in his throat.

Jisung’s back was to the sunset, and the light lit up his hair, creating a golden halo around his head. He looked at Minho with peaceful eyes as he smiled at Minho.

God, Minho was more fucked than he’d realized.

“Thank you for today,” Jisung said. “I had a really good time.”

Minho gently kicked his leg. “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”

Jisung shrugged. “Maybe. But still,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Today meant a lot to me.”

Minho studied Jisung’s face. What had Minho done that made that afternoon so special? Had he said something?

But before he could get very far in his facial analysis, he felt Jisung’s hand on his arm, causing him to freeze mid-thought. “You’re really cool,” Jisung murmured. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

Minho opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the right words. He wanted to convey to Jisung how much he meant to him, without completely giving himself away. But he lost his battle with his own head, convincing himself that he couldn’t be vulnerable. “Me too,” Was all he managed.

Even though Minho had said the bare minimum, Jisung smiled at him, seeming to get the idea. “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

And with that, he turned around and walked away, his hands shoved in his pockets, leaving Minho to stare at his back until he turned the corner and drifted out of Minho’s field of vision.

-

The year moved along faster than Minho could keep up with. Winter jackets were no longer needed, and sometimes Minho could even go out without a hoodie on. Flowers were beginning to blossom all over the gardens throughout the city, and pouring rain became a regular occurrence. Minho liked warm weather, but he missed the days when he could wear his winter jacket regularly. It made him feel protected.

The situation with Jisung wasn’t getting any better. Every day that passed, Minho found himself getting more and more butterflies with each text, each soft touch, each smile exchanged. No matter how hard he tried to ignore his feelings, he always ended up getting stuck in his head and fixating on everything he liked about Jisung. Ignoring his feelings was going to be a more difficult feat than he’d originally planned.

One night, Minho sat in front of the small TV in the living room with his mom, eating microwaved takeout out of plastic containers. He wasn’t really processing what he was watching; some documentary about elephants that his mom thought was cool. If you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you a single thing that was said.

“Minho, sweetie? Can we talk about something?”

Minho felt his stomach drop. His mom never called him sweetie unless it was serious. He nodded hesitantly.

She reached for the remote and turned down the volume on the TV, making Minho’s heart rate skyrocket even more. 

She turned to him, a worried look in her eyes. “I… you’re 17, Minho.”

He stared at her. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. “Yeah…?”

His mom sighed. “It’s been over a year since you’ve been able to fully join me. Time is ticking by, and I…” She furrowed her eyebrows. “I’m worried.”

Minho heard static in his ears. Deafening static.

“You have so much potential. Every time we fight together, I see you improving to an amazing extent. Your skills impress me every day, and if you really delved into this with me, imagine how much more you could achieve!” She rested her hand on his shoulder, and Minho resisted the urge to pull away. “Imagine how much we could accomplish. Together. We could truly change this city for the better.”

Minho stared at the wall behind her. He couldn’t feel his hands. “We could.”

His mom took her hand off his knee, and leaned back into her seat. “Please just think about doing it soon. I don’t want you to be burdened with hiding your identity forever.”

She said it as if he had no other options. Minho nodded stiffly.

The TV screen became a glowing blur.

-

Minho lay in his bed that night, blankly staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep, not while his mom’s words were replaying in his head over and over. Time is ticking by, and I… I’m worried.

He loved his mom, he really did. She always had his best interests in mind. She’d protected him, been there for him during his lowest points, encouraged him to follow his heart. She’d raised him well. He’d always be thankful for that, and wanted to have her in his life.

But when it came to her plans, and the fact that she was one of the biggest supervillains in the city, that she expected him to follow in her footsteps, he wasn’t so sure. Hell, she thought that was what he wanted. 

Of course, that’s not what Minho wanted. If he revealed his identity to the world, he’d lose all the aspects of a somewhat normal life he had. He’d be forced to leave school behind, leave his dreams and passions behind, leave all his friends behind. To leave Jisung behind. 

But he felt obligated to do it. After five years of causing total chaos and hurting countless people, he wasn’t sure if he deserved to have a normal life. Maybe he should just keep going, until he was numb to the guilt and he focused on the reason behind all the chaos. If he decided not to follow after his mom, he might never get an opportunity to see her again. Really see her, not just secret five minute meetings in dark alleyways at midnight. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle leaving his mother for good.

But would he be able to handle a lifetime of being in the media’s spotlight, constantly risking his safety, and doing something that didn’t feel right in his heart? 

I’d go insane.

Minho’s hand reached out for his phone, acting on its own accord as he entered the passcode and searched Chan’s number up. He pressed call, and put the phone to his ear. It rang once, twice, three times, and Minho was about to hang up the call when—

“Minho? Is everything okay? It’s 3 AM.”

Minho felt his worries soothe at the sound of Chan’s voice. It was comforting. “Yeah. I can’t sleep, and I need your advice. If that’s okay.”
He heard shuffling on the other end of the line. “Okay. What’s wrong?”

Mihno let out a shaky sigh. “What would you do if…” He tried to think of a way to vaguely address his situation. “...if someone expects something of you, and you feel like you have to do it, but you really, really don’t want to?”

“Well, I’d follow my heart, clearly,” Chan said with no hesitation. “If you don’t want to do something, don’t do it.”

“Yeah, but,” Minho paused. Being vague was harder than he thought it’d be. “The reason I feel like I have to isn’t because that person wants me to do it, it’s because I…” He gulped down his pride. “I feel like I don’t deserve the other option. The option that I want. And I have a lot to lose no matter what I pick.”

“Oh, Minho,” Chan sighed. “I don’t know the full situation, so I can’t really give you anything specific. But what I do know is that you need to do what is best for you. What is going to make you the happiest? You have a good heart. A really good heart. So what your heart wants is probably not the worst thing in the world, and I think you probably do deserve it.” 

Minho could practically feel Chan’s soft smile as he said those words.

“Weigh your options. What will you lose if you pick one thing over the other? Work out what is most important to you and what is really best for you, not just what the little negative voice in the back of your head is telling you. From there, consider the pros and cons, and decide what’s good for you.” He paused. “That’s what I’d do, anyway.”

“But!” Chan continued, “Don’t let it overtake all your thoughts. Do something to get your mind off of it, like going for a run, or looking at the stars, or something. Clearing your mind will help a lot.”

Chan’s words seemed to flip a switch in Minho’s mind, and an idea came to him. “You know what, I think you’re right.” Minho got out of bed and grabbed his backpack, wedging his phone between his ear and his shoulder. “Thank you so much, Chan. I don’t know where I’d be without you, seriously. I’ll take that advice.”

“Of course. I hope this all works out for you, I’m always here for you if you need anything else.”

Minho smiled. “Got it. Have a good night, okay? Sorry for disturbing you.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t do it every night.”

Minho laughed and hung up the call. 

He opened up his backpack and pulled out his suit with his left hand, pulling up his text conversation with Jisung in his right.

[Minho]
hey, are u awake?

-

“So,” Jisung looked at Minho with tired eyes as he landed on the balcony. “What’s so important that I needed to be woken up at 3 in the morning?”

Minho unzipped his suit and let his mask fall to his chest. His heart swelled as he noticed Jisung’s state. He was wearing a gray hoodie that was all too big for him, blue pajama pants, and was sporting a major (but adorable) bedhead. He seemed to notice the look Minho was giving him, and reached a hand up to try and pat down the hair that was sticking up.

“You answered my text within fifteen seconds,” Minho chuckled.

“Okay, well, you’re tearing me out of my bed when I could’ve been relaxing. What do you want?”

Minho shrugged. “Just needed to clear my head.”

Jisung lifted an eyebrow, obviously unimpressed.

Minho took on a more serious expression and looked Jisung in the eyes. “Listen, do you trust me?”

Jisung’s eyes went round in confusion. “Yeah, of course I do. Why?”

Minho pretended that those words didn’t hit him like a bus. Jisung trusts me. 

He put back on his mask, zipping up his suit. “Come here.”

Jisung blinked. “What?”

Minho sighed. There was no way of telling Jisung what he wanted him to do without sounding awkward. He shut his eyes for a moment, collecting his wits, then did the only thing he could think of: he reached forward and grabbed Jisung’s wrist, pulling him into his chest.

Jisung let out a squeak of surprise as he collided into Minho. “What are you doing?”

“Just—” Minho took Jisung’s arms in his hands and placed them around his neck. He prayed that Jisung couldn’t feel his pounding heart with their close proximity. 

“Hold on tight, okay?” He wrapped his right arm securely around Jisung’s waist and pulled him closer into his side, making sure he had a good hold on him.

“The fuck do you mean, hold on— holy shit, oh my god!”

Before he could have second thoughts, Minho had tapped his fingers together, initiating his jets and taking off into the air, Jisung latched onto him.

He flew a few feet into the air, but made sure not to hover outside of the balcony yet. He didn’t want to freak Jisung out too much.

Jisung buried his face into Minho’s neck, sending chills down Minho’s spine as he felt his breath through his suit.

“Is this okay?” Minho murmured into Jisung’s ear, trying to sound as soothing as he possibly could, struggling to hide that he was internally freaking out.

A moment passed before Jisung slowly nodded, pulling half of his face out to peek over Minho’s shoulder, his lips lightly brushing against Minho’s neck. Minho suppressed a shiver.

“Is it alright if I fly out further?”

Jisung nodded again.

Slowly, Minho drifted past the balcony and over the streets. He heard Jisung gasp, and his grip around Minho’s neck tightened.

“I got you, you’re okay,” Minho hummed. “Can I take you somewhere? Are you okay with that?”

Jisung let out a puff of air, before nodding a third time. “Yeah,” He whispered.

Minho rubbed his thumb against Jisung’s side. “Let me know if you need me to stop or slow down, okay?”

And with that, they were off.

The trip felt like an eternity. The whole time, Minho was trying not to scream. Jisung was in his arms, so close, clinging onto Minho. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead behind his mask. It didn’t help that every now and then, Jisung would break his awed silence with cute little comments. For example: “Woah, the cars look like legos from here!”

After a while, Jisung seemed to get more comfortable, and began reverting back to his old self. He started asking question after question, curious about pretty much everything.

“How often do you do this?”

“Not often.”

“Why not? Wouldn’t you want to do it like, every night?”

“Loses its thrill if I do it too much.”

“We’ve been flying for so long, how far are we going?”

“It’s only been ten minutes. And we’re not going far, I’m just taking the long route so we don’t get seen.”

“Aren’t I heavy? How have you not dropped me yet?”

“I will if you don’t shut up.”

Finally, their destination came into view. A skyscraper near the center of the city stood in the distance, growing closer as Minho weaved behind buildings to get to it.

He stopped in front of it and craned his neck to look up at the top of it. A rush of adrenaline flowed through his veins, making his hands tingle.

He took a deep breath, wiped a hand down his masked face, and shot upwards.

Jisung buried his face back into Minho’s neck. “What the hell, what the hell, what the hell,” Minho heard him repeatedly whispering. He wished he could do the same as he rose higher and higher into the sky, the air slowly leaving his lungs with each story he passed.

After what felt like ages, they reached the top of the building. Minho made sure to land on a flat surface, and gently set Jisung down.

“Holy shit,” Jisung breathed as Minho unzipped his mask. “It’s so crazy that you can do that, oh my god. Please, let me come with you sometimes when you do this, I don’t care if it’s dangerous. Hell, I’ll even wear a ski mask if it’ll be safer for you, I—” He cut off. “What’s wrong?”

Minho was staring up at the sky, unable to look down. “Well,” He started. How embarrassing can this possibly get, holy shit. “I’m scared of heights.”

Jisung gave him an incredulous look. “Really?”

Minho nodded, scrunching his eyes shut.

“But how… Why did you take us here, then? The tallest building in the city?”

Minho tore his eyes away from the sky to look at Jisung. He could see the ground in his peripheral vision, and felt his gut drop. “When I first started this stuff, I’d come here to try and get over my fear of heights so that I’d be able to fly and do what my mom needed me to do without freaking out. I went to the most extreme place I could think of, so that everything else would feel minor compared to it. It helped, but I’m still kind of scared.” He gulped. “I guess I just wanted to show you that aspect of my life. The view’s pretty cool, too.”

“I think cool is an understatement.” Jisung chuckled, before biting  his lip worriedly. “If you need to go, then that’s completely fine. I’d be happy with what I’ve gotten to see. Got it?”

Minho’s heart ached. “I’ll be fine. It’s just been a while, that’s all.” He willed himself to look out to the horizon. The city lights flickered, creating a glow that painted a blue gradient into the sky.

Suddenly, he felt warmth slide into his palm. He looked down to see that Jisung had taken his hand, and was now intertwining their fingers. His long, slender fingers wrapped around Minho’s knuckles, his thumb beginning to rub circles into Minho’s skin.

Minho felt heat rush to his ears as he processed it. He glanced up at Jisung, who looked at him with soft eyes. He got the message. I’m here for you. 

He prayed Jisung couldn’t feel how much he was shaking.

They sat for a while, hand in hand as they stared at the city. Minho’s breathing became steadier as he gradually realized that the city wasn’t as far down as he’d thought, the little dots of light that were brightening the night easing his nerves.

“Hey,” Jisung muttered after a few minutes. “I haven’t really told you much about me, have I?”

Minho turned to him. “Sure you have, Jisungie.”

Jisung flashed a shy smile and averted his eyes. (Was he blushing?) “Not just the trivial things. I mean stuff that not many people know about me. You just opened up to me, so I should return the favor.”

Minho felt guilt pool in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t opened up to Jisung about half of his issues. “Just because I told you something personal doesn’t mean you have to, as well. That’s all up to you.”

“No.” Jisung shook his head. “I want to. I’ve been wanting to.” He twirled his hoodie strings around his finger. “It’s about my dad. My home life in general, I guess.”

Minho felt his eyes widen. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard Jisung talk about his dad since… well, not since he and Minho had cleared things up after the balcony incident. Almost six months.

“Okay,” He squeezed Jisung’s hand. “Go for it.” 

“So,” Jisung started, visibly nervous. “You know the basics. I was born without superpowers, my parents got a divorce when I was three, I live with my mom, blah blah blah. Everyone always assumes that I live with my mom for the sole purpose of safety, right?” He sighed. “That’s not the full reason. I mean, nobody’s ever told me it wasn’t, but I can tell.

“When I was born, my dad had all these plans for me. I was going to become a mini HYH. He’d train me to use my powers correctly, teach me the basics of being a superhero, and when I was old enough, start getting me involved in the superhero scene.” He snorted. “Kinda like you, I guess. Except not a villain. And he was set on it. To make matters worse, right after I was born, my mom found out she couldn’t have any more kids. So he was dependent on me.”

“But then, months started to pass with no sign of powers. A year went by. Two years. My dad was starting to get worried. My parents got their divorce, and they arranged for me to stay with my mom until my powers started developing.”

“My dad kept in touch at first. He used to call me a lot, send me cards, and even visited occasionally. But when I turned ten, things started to change. He was losing hope with each year that passed, and began calling me less and less. The cards eventually stopped, along with the visits. It was clear that if there were no powers involved, he didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Minho’s heart sank. He ran his thumb across Jisung’s knuckles. “Jisung…”

“He never cared about me,” Jisung spat. “All he cared about was having a successor. When I was no longer of use to him, he left me and my mom on our own to fend for ourselves. We can’t speak up about it, the media and his crazy supporters would rip us to shreds. I’m scared they’d go as far to find and post our address. They love my dad, and would ruin anybody who dared to criticize him, especially his ex wife and useless kid.”

Minho’s eyes flickered between Jisung’s. He wanted to tell Jisung that he wasn’t useless, that he was nowhere near useless. But he knew that he would probably sound dismissive of Jisung’s insecurities, so he held off.

“Do you think he would’ve fought my mom and saved you that night, if I hadn’t…?”

Jisung tilted his head. “The night I was held hostage? Yeah, he would’ve. But that would only be to keep up his reputation. It would look pretty bad to leave your kid to die in the hands of Erfinderin, wouldn’t it? He would probably just drop me off with my mom before he even spoke to me.”

Minho had never wanted to hold Jisung more than he did at that moment.

“My mom works two jobs to support us, but she won’t let me get a job to help out. She says I need to focus on school, and that it’s ‘too dangerous’.” He wrinkled up his nose at that. “I don’t know how it’s so different from me living my everyday life, but whatever. Since she’s working so much, I barely get to see her. She leaves before I wake up, and comes home around nine at night. When I go home after school, the apartment just feels so… empty. My dad’s gone. I barely see my mom anymore. I’m surrounded by empty walls and this silence that rings in my ears, and I can’t take it.”

Minho remembered the first time Jisung had ever texted him. i don’t rlly wanna go home today.

“That’s why you never want to go back to your apartment after school,” He whispered.

Jisung nodded. “Yep. One or two hours is bearable, but seven hours?” He shuddered. “It’s awful.”

Minho thought back to all the times he and Jisung had hung out after school. All the times Jisung had called him when plans with other friends had fallen through, all the times he’d seen Jisung frantically texting his friends when Minho needed to leave, all the times Jisung had tried to persuade Minho to stay for just another half hour, all the times he’d watched Jisung reluctantly opening the door to his apartment building, throwing a desperate look over his shoulder.

“Shit, Jisung, I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I—”

“No, don’t even think about blaming yourself for something that has nothing to do with you. You’re not in any way responsible for me, and how were you supposed to know, anyway?” He turned to Minho. “You've done so much for me without even realizing it. I really think we were supposed to meet each other. The universe made it happen, or something.”

The lights of the city sparkled in Jisung’s eyes. The curve of his cheek was illuminated by the dim moonlight, and his messy hair blew in the wind. Minho had to practically restrain himself from leaning forward and kissing him.

He remembered the early days they’d spent on Jisung’s balcony. So much had changed since then. Minho had refused to tell Jisung his name for weeks, and barely spoke when they were together. So why did he keep going back, when he didn’t even trust the kid? When all he was going to do was listen to this 16 year old boy talk about the TV show he was watching?

Jisung had to be right. The invisible rope that was tied between them, the electricity Minho felt when they touched, the way that Jisung was the one person who made Minho feel truly alive. So many things came together in that moment, and Minho realized, of course they were supposed to cross paths. Even if it wasn’t in the way he dreamed of it being. 

What they had was enough for Minho, no matter what his heart yearned for.

He smiled. “Maybe you’re right.”

-

When Jisung started to nod off, Minho declared it time to go home. Jisung had practically begged Minho to give him a piggyback ride (“It’ll be easier for you, and more relaxing for me!”), which he eventually agreed to. It didn’t take that much convincing.

That’s how Minho ended up with a sleepy Jisung on his back as he flew through the city, his soft breaths in his ear and arms lazily flopped around his neck. Jisung was right; it was easier to carry him on his back, and somewhat peaceful to say the least.

After they made it back to Jisung’s balcony and Jisung was back on his two feet, he turned to Minho. His eyes were sparkling again, but not because of the city lights this time.

“Thank you,” He said. “That was beautiful. I’m really glad you tore me out of my bed for that.”

Minho smirked in an attempt to hide his corny fondness. “You’d better be appreciative of me.”

When he climbed back through his window ten minutes later, he realized that his worries about his future hadn’t crossed his mind once.

Thank goodness for Chan.

-

Minho frantically pressed buttons on his controller, desperately trying to take down Changbin’s avatar in battle. He winced as his character took a hit in the face and quickly tried to gain some ground as he made his character kick Changbin’s in the stomach.

“You know,” Changbin said offhandedly. “You should talk to Jisung.”

Minho was taken aback by Changbin’s words, but refused to tear his eyes away from the screen. “What do you mean?”

“Open up to him. Let him know what’s going on.”

Minho frowned. “With what?”

Changbin’s avatar jumped over one of Minho’s punches. “With everything. Your mom, your feelings for him… whatever he deserves to know. Bottling all this up isn’t the best idea when it comes to the person you like.”

Minho’s mouth turned into a firm line as he considered Changbin’s words. “I don’t know. It might be too much for him to take in, and I don’t want to add another burden on his shoulders. I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings, anyway.”

“If he really cares about you,” Changbin jammed his finger into a button on his controller. “It wouldn’t be a burden.”

Minho watched as his avatar fell to the ground in defeat.

-

“Can I walk you home?”

Minho glanced at Jisung. “What? Wouldn’t that make your walk home like, thirty minutes long?”

“You always walk me to my apartment building. I wanna return the favor.” Jisung looked up at the sky. “It shouldn’t be dark for a while, and I’m not exactly keen to be home, anyway.”

Minho considered it for a moment. It was a Wednesday, meaning his mom was at the lab for the night to work. He figured it would be a safe bet for Jisung to walk him home without being caught. 

He shrugged. “Less walking for me.”

Jisung stuck out his tongue at him.

That’s how Minho ended up walking down the street his house was on, Jisung by his side as the wind ruffled his hair. They’d had a day of wandering around stores Jisung had never been to. At one of them, he’d ended up buying a jean jacket which, surprisingly, suited him. The clothes Minho associated with Jisung was the stuff that was a couple sizes too big, effectively swallowing him whole. So when he pulled on the jacket over his t-shirt, Minho was taken aback by the fact that he looked good.

Then again, what did he expect? Of course Jisung could pull it off.

“Hey, Minho?”

“Hm?” Minho hummed.

“Do you support what your mom is doing?”

Minho almost froze on the spot. His steps faltered, and he had to force his legs to keep moving. “What do you mean?”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows. “We never talk about that stuff. Which is fine! I don’t really want to talk about it, but…” His eyes were trained on the sidewalk. “You’ve never really addressed how you feel about it. I don’t know if it’s because you wanna do it as much as she does but you know I hate it, and don’t want to make me upset. Or maybe you hate it as much as I do. Or something else. I don’t know. It’s fine if you do enjoy it, I just…” He peeked up at Minho, his doe eyes wide and full of worry. “I just wanna know how long you’re gonna keep doing it, and how much more serious it’ll get. Is it a lifelong thing, or…?”

The unspoken question hung in the air. Are we going to have to stop being friends one day?

Minho looked up from staring at his shoes and realized they’d reached his townhouse. The clouds were beginning to turn pink, and he realized that Jisung probably would, in fact, be walking in the dark.

He reluctantly turned to Jisung after they stopped at his front door. Jisung’s eyes searched his face, clearly trying to find an answer through Minho’s expressions.

Minho struggled to keep his composure as he tried to come up with a response. “I…” 

Honestly? I hate it so much, but I have no idea whether I’ll ever be able to escape it. I feel like I have to choose between my mom and a life that will actually make me happy, which is tearing me apart. I don’t know what that means for us, let alone myself. I want to tell you everything, but I don’t know if I’m ready to…

“I don’t know.”

Jisung blinked. He seemed to process what Minho said, before his face morphed into something more desperate. It was subtle, but there. “Which part don’t you know?”

“Both.” I’m sorry, Jisung.

Jisung gave Minho one more pleading look, and Minho almost broke.

Key word, almost. He kept his face blank as his heart screamed.

Finally, Jisung sighed. “Alright. That’s fine, we can talk about it another time.” He checked his watch. “I should probably get going if I want to get home before the sun completely sets. Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you next week.”

Minho nodded. “You too. Get home safe.”

Jisung gave him a thin, but genuine smile, and walked away. Minho tore his eyes away from his retreating figure, refusing to allow himself to bask in his own sorrow.

He took a deep breath and trotted up the stairs leading to his front door. He could forget about this; Jisung probably won’t address it again, and Minho planned on telling him eventually. That is, once he’s worked it out for himself.

He stepped inside and eased out of his shoes, dropping his school bag to the floor. All he wanted to do at that moment was go upstairs, get in bed, and take a nice, long—

“Minho.”

He spun around, almost jumping out of his own skin. His heart dropped.

There at the window that looked out to the front of the house sat his mother, her eyes piercing into him, almost splitting him in half.

Oh, shit, oh my god—

“Wh-what are you doing home so early?” He stuttered. His throat was closing up, his lungs slowly beginning to struggle to get the air they needed.

“I finished early, so I thought I’d call it a night,” She said calmly. A little too calmly. “Who was that boy you were with?”

Fuck. “Just someone from school.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit with me, Minho,” She spat, her demeanor quickly changing. A fire lit in her eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? You think I wouldn’t notice you’re hanging around with HYH’s son?”

“Mom, I—”

“How long has it been?”

He couldn’t breathe. “Not long.”

“Does he know who you are?”

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

She ran her fingers through her hair, beginning to pace. “God, Minho! Do you know how dangerous that is? You’re jeopardizing everything we’ve worked for!” She threw her hands into the air. “I bet you’ve been protecting him too, knowing that I’m looking for him? Trying to stop him from being taken again?” She scoffed. “He’s HYH’s son, and has absolutely no powers to save himself with. Pathetic.”

Minho was knocked out of his stupor at that, the words setting off something in him. “Don’t talk about him like that,” He snapped, surprising himself.

She blinked at him, clearly not expecting that reaction. She studied his face, staring into his eyes and examining his reaction. She knows me inside and out, there’s no escaping, he thought as he fidgeted under her gaze.

Suddenly, her eyes changed. The intensity changed from fiery anger to something more calculated. For some reason, it put Minho even more on edge.

“You know what?” She said, a lilt in her voice. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on you. You can be friends with whoever you want; why should my personal grudge against someone dictate who you associate with?” 

Minho felt like he was going to throw up. “Okay…?”

She smiled a sickly sweet smile. “Sorry about that, sweetheart,” She sang. “I shouldn’t be so controlling.”

Then she turned and walked upstairs towards her room.

Minho stood at the entryway, dumbstruck and unable to move. The change in his mom’s attitude had happened too quickly, it was unsettling. 

He had a horrible feeling in his gut.

-

Minho spent the next few days mulling over what had happened. The more he thought about it, the more scared he got. 

He remembered the look in his mom’s eyes after he’d snapped at her. The way she’d analyzed him and his body language, the way her manner had changed, suddenly being completely fine with Minho being friends with Jisung. Her eyes had taken on the look she always had when she knew a secret, and was going to do something about it.

She knew Minho had feelings for him. There was no way she didn’t, and she was going to use it against him.

The realization sent him into a state of panic. How could he be so careless? If he’d never let his emotions get the best of him, he wouldn’t have put Jisung in danger. How soon was his mom going to act on it? Was she going to hurt Jisung, or threaten to? Was she going to do something while they were together?

There was only one solution: avoid Jisung at all costs.

It was painful. When he came to the conclusion that being friends with Jisung was only putting him in danger, he felt like fifty knives had been stabbed into his chest. Jisung had become a light in his life, something that was keeping him sane. Of course, he had Changbin and all his other friends, but there was something different about Jisung. Something that made him feel like he could really be himself for once. 

But he couldn’t be selfish. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Jisung.

So, Minho began the process of pulling away from him, no matter how much it hurt.

It wasn’t horrible to start out. All he needed to do was be a super dry texter, and end conversations as quickly as possible. He distracted himself with his schoolwork and by hanging out with Changbin as much as he could. There was still a hole in his heart, but he was able to pretend that he could patch it up.

But then, the Tuesday after Minho's mom had caught him, he got a text from Jisung.

[Jisung]
hey!! u wanna go get boba today? i’ve been craving it all week & hyunjin is too busy for me T-T

Minho tried to keep his fingers steady as he typed out his response, each tap on the screen feeling like a punch in the stomach.

[Minho]
i can’t tpday, sorry
*today

[Jisung]
that’s fine !! maybe another time ^^

Of course, there was not going to be another time.

For the next couple weeks, Minho had to continually make excuses for why he couldn’t hang out with Jisung, each time more painful than the last. Minho watched as Jisung’s texts became less and less enthusiastic as time went on.

[Jisung]
u wanna go to that diner again tonight??? i miss u & that place :(

[Minho]
i’m swamped w hw, sorry

[Jisung]
do u think you’d be able to come to the park w me tomorrow?

[Minho] 
i’m meeting up w some other friends, maybe next week

[Jisung]
r u free this week?

Read 1:42 AM

Eventually, Jisung stopped asking all together. Minho wondered if this was what heartbreak felt like. 

That was, until one Friday night, when he got another text from Jisung.

When he saw Jisung’s name pop up on his phone screen as he lay in bed, reading his history textbook, his stomach did happy backflips. Then he remembered he was the one ignoring Jisung, not the other way around, and instantly was filled with dread as he realized he’d probably have to come up with another excuse. He grabbed his phone.

[Jisung]
hey, can we meet up sometime soon plz? we rlly need to talk

Minho bit his thumbnail. Of course Jisung would want to work out why Minho was avoiding him. He’s a smart kid, why wouldn’t he?

He thought out his response for a couple minutes, before opening up the message and quickly typing out his message.

[Minho]
idk if we can meet up, but u can call me if u want

[Jisung]
what
why can’t we meet up?
actually u know what? whatever. idc
yea that’s fine. can u call rn?

Minho stared at the texts. Right now? As in, at this moment? Was he ready for that?

Might as well get it over and done with.

[Minho]
sure

Within fifteen seconds after he sent the text, his phone was buzzing, Jisung’s name displayed in big letters on the screen with a picture of him puffing out his cheeks in the background. Minho had forgotten he’d set that as Jisung’s contact picture.

He took a deep breath and accepted the call. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Minho sharply inhaled through his nose. He didn’t think he’d be that affected by Jisung’s voice. “What’s up?”

“Why are you avoiding me?” Jisung demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Bullshit, Minho. C’mon.”

Minho sighed and bit his lip. “Long story.”

“I have time.”

Minho closed his textbook and sat up, knowing he wasn’t going to get any work done anytime soon. “Jisung…” He closed his eyes. “I don’t think our friendship is a good idea.”

White noise met Minho’s ears. It hurt his head. 

“What?”

“It’s not safe.” Minho stared out his window, trying not to tear up. “With my mom, your dad, and the fact that I’m… who I am. Doing what I’m doing.”

He heard something brush against Jisung’s mic. No response.

“I don’t want to put you in danger.” He added.

“Why wasn’t that an issue before? We had it under control!” Jisung hissed. “What changed? Did I do something?”

“No, I just realized—”

“Is it because of what I asked you last time we hung out?” Minho heard a sniffle. “You’re not gonna stop going on those missions with your mom… are you?”

“I…” He couldn’t speak. Everything he wanted to say was filling his mind, but he couldn’t get one thing out. So he sat there, his mouth hanging open, the sentences stuck in his throat.

“No, I get it.” Jisung’s voice was trembling. “I’ve been through this before, don’t bother. I just hoped you’d be different. Have a good night.”

“Jisung, wait, let me—”

The phone clicked. Jisung had hung up.

Minho was still for a moment, before he let his phone slip out of his hand, flopping into his comforter.

The silence rang in his ears as emptiness filled up his room, suffocating him.

-

The world felt like static from then on. His days passed by in a blur, and Minho allowed them to. He woke up, went to school and blankly sat through his classes, got home, and lay in bed staring at his ceiling until he fell asleep. He didn’t care. He’d stopped caring about a lot of things these days. His grades were dropping, he was being despondent with his friends, but he didn’t care. Even when he was on missions with his mom, everything was numb.

But this was what he wanted, right? To be numb?

The only times he wasn’t numb were the nights he thought of Jisung. He tried to console himself, reminding himself that staying friends with Jisung would’ve just subjected Minho to months of pining, and he was protecting Jisung by doing this.

Those thoughts never stopped the ache, though.

He began avoiding being out in the city as much as possible, trying to escape any memories of Jisung that could resurface. He took the shortest route home, avoided walking past any places he and Jisung frequently went to, and never dared to eat out. That meant that when his friends arranged plans to go get lunch together, he always declined. It was especially bad when one afternoon, Chan suggested they go to the same diner he and Jisung had visited back in March. He stayed home, of course, but that night was hard to get through. The mention of the diner caused memories to come flooding back.

Usually, when he needed to escape his own mind, he went out flying at night. The fresh air calmed him down, and he was able to distract himself with the rush of the wind roaring in his ears. But now, all it did was make matters worse; every time he tried to do it, he was reminded of the feeling of Jisung’s face pressed into his shoulder, his hand gently slipping into Minho’s, the city lights glittering in his eyes…

So, that was no longer an option. Minho was trapped in his head. No matter what he did, his thoughts always circled right back to Jisung in an endless loop.

He sat on the floor of his room one night, a dull pounding behind his eyes and his whole body completely worn out, despite having not moved in the past hour. He stared at his wall and blankly wondered how he’d let it come to this. If he’d never let Jisung walk him home. If he’d never opened himself up so much to Jisung, if he’d never fallen for the younger boy, if he’d never even taken off his mask on that balcony. Maybe everything would be okay.

No, a voice in his head screamed. Jisung had made his life brighter, had opened up his eyes to possibilities Minho had never even considered. He’d never take back becoming friends with Jisung, no matter the consequences.

He wondered what Jisung was doing right now. Was he as drained and broken as Minho was? Or had he already gotten over this mess, moving on to the next chapter of his life?

He didn’t need you, a new voice sneered, the polar opposite from the one he’d heard a minute ago. You’re the one who was so utterly dependent on him. What makes you think he felt the same way? Why would anyone find any comfort in a monster like you?

Minho covered his ears and drew his knees into his chest, wishing his rough carpeted floor could open up and swallow him whole.

-

“Minho!” His mom practically yelled as soon as he walked through the front door after school. She had the outfit she always wore as Erfinderin in her arms. “You’re coming with me on a mission today. Get your stuff together, we’re leaving for the lab in fifteen minutes. You can get your suit on while I get everything I need. Got it?”

Minho sighed. “What are we doing?”

His mom wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s a surprise.”

Minho frowned. She usually told him what the plan was, but he didn’t question her any further.

He went up to his room and grabbed his backpack, checking his reflection in the mirror as he passed by. His hair was a mess, the blue dye faded and his roots in desperate need of a touch up. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes that could be seen from a mile away, and his cheeks lacked color. He rubbed his eyes and dragged his feet as he left his room. It wasn’t as if anyone was going to see him, anyway.

The car ride to the lab felt like it went on for hours, the music in his headphones failing to make time go by faster. He watched the world outside the window zoom by, wondering what crimes he’d be forced to commit today.

He ran a hand down his face. Why was he being so pessimistic?

They finally reached the lab, and Minho went into the safe room while his mom went to the equipment room to grab her things. He put on his suit and headed down to the basement, where he and his mom got onto her flying saucer and sped off.

Minho’s mom told him all about her new and improved gadgets on the way there, and he tried his hardest not to zone out as she droned on about how this day would be a turning point in their lives. He honestly couldn't care less.

When they finally came to a halt, his mom dramatically landed the saucer on the top of a large building. Civilians on the streets below began to panic at the sight of her, some starting to run away while others ducked for cover, pulling out their phones to record.

Minho climbed off of the saucer and studied his surroundings, realizing they’d landed on top of a famous office building, where police records and classified information about heroes’ personal information and weaknesses was held. It was uncommon for villains to try and raid the building, since the security system in the building was top notch, and caught almost all of the perpetrators. Was this what she had been planning on taking down with all her new gadgets?

He then remembered that this area was one of the zones HYH responded to. 

Please let a different hero respond to this, please… 

“Here’s the plan,” Minho’s mom appeared next to him and spoke into his ear. “I’m going to go in and knock out the guards, then disable security. That’ll take a while, since there are so many layers of it, so stay outside and fight off the police if they come, or civilians that might try to save the day. Turn on your mic if you need help. And promise me,” She grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards her, forcing him to look in her eyes. “That you’ll let me know if HYH comes.”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “I promise.”

She patted his cheek. “Good. Once I’ve disabled security, I’ll send you an alert, and we can go get the files we need. I’ll be on the third floor. After we have the files, we get out as fast as possible.” She squeezed his arm. “Got it?”

He nodded. His heart was pounding. “Got it.”

And with that, they were off.

His mom darted down on her flying saucer, her laptop in hand and a couple other gadgets on her belt, and broke down the front door. She jumped off the saucer and went inside, out of Minho’s line of sight.

He closed his eyes, sucked in as much air as he could, and opened his eyes as he released it. There was no time to waste.

He jumped off the roof and initiated his jets, taking a hovering position just above the front door. He scanned the crowd, constantly checking for anyone who dared to stop their plans. The people who were still lingering either cowered back or fled at the sight of Minho in action. But, with each person that left, two more braver ones came along to try and get a view of the scene before them. This caused the crowd to grow with each minute that passed, making Minho’s job a whole lot more difficult.

He heard sirens. Shit. 

He watched as three cars sped up to the curb, two police officers jumping out of each car, one by one drawing their guns. “Put your hands up and slowly come down to the ground!” One of them yelled.

Minho snorted. They always said the same thing, didn’t they?

He noticed two of the officers that were in close proximity with each other started moving towards the building, and he bolted down. He angled his body and made a sweeping kick with one of his legs, knocking the officers’ guns out of their hands. He swooped down and grabbed the two guns from the ground, pointing them at the rest of the officers as he rose back into the air. Of course, the last thing he wanted to do was shoot someone, he was just using intimidation tactics to try to protect his mom, and to not get killed.

It worked. The rest of the officers faltered a little, a couple of them taking a small step backwards. Minho used the opportunity to catch one of them off guard and shot forward. He kicked the officer in the chest, hard, and watched as he was launched backwards. His gun flew out of his hand, and Minho reached forward, only just catching it while the other gun was already in his hand.

He flew back up to the roof of the building, dropping two guns off at the top where nobody could reach them, keeping one for himself. Three down, three to go.

He looked over the ledge of the building to analyze his situation. The officer he’d kicked was still on his back, one of the officers whose gun Minho had taken tending to him. The third gunless officer was hiding behind a car, clearly trying not to get shot but ready to jump out and take on Minho if he came down to his level. One of the armed officers spoke into his walkie-talkie, seemingly calling for reinforcement, which meant Minho had to work fast.

He noticed another one of the officers beginning to inch towards the office building, subtly glancing over his shoulder as he went. If his full attention wasn’t on Minho… 

He shot down once more, headed straight for the officer who’d tried to be sneaky. He heard gunshots firing at him, and took that as even more motivation to move fast. A split second before he reached the officer, he turned off his jets and kicked out his leg for the third time that day, swiping underneath the man’s ankles. Once the man had fallen on his back, Minho kicked him in his side and reached down to grab the gun out of his loose grip.

He felt a strong hand shove his shoulder, and realized the unarmed officer that had been hiding behind the car had run out, and was now trying to tackle him to the ground. He fell forward, but caught himself with his hands and quickly rolled out of the way, the officer hitting the ground next to him. Minho’s palms would definitely need bandages later.

He clambered to his feet, stumbling a little, before reinitiating his jets and lifting back into the air. He aimed the two guns he had at each of the police officers that were still armed, and calculated what the best thing to do would be.

Suddenly, he heard a beeping in his earpiece. His mom needed him.

He cursed under his breath. He flew towards the armed guard to his left and reared his arm behind his head. He swung as hard as he could and hit the officer in the head with the handle of the gun, knocking him out. Minho winced at the impact.

The last officer began firing at Minho, which he only just dodged by ducking behind a vacant police car. He needed to get this officer out of the way as soon as possible. 

He peeked out and realized this officer was the one in charge, meaning he was the most trained.

Minho considered his options. Flying straight at him would be too dangerous; the officer would expect it, and could easily shoot him right in the face. Minho didn’t want to get too close, because he didn’t have time for a full blown fight, which would end up happening if he got close enough for the officer to throw punches at him.

Minho scrunched his eyes closed. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered to the sky, then flew out from behind the car and above the officer’s head. Bullets whistled past his head, but he dodged them by weaving through the air. He aimed the gun for the officer’s leg, braced himself, and fired.

The bullet hit its target, right in the officer’s calf. He crumpled to the ground, his face distorted in pain. Minho felt sick.

He tore his eyes away from the sight and darted towards the office building. He had no time to wallow in self hatred.

He turned off his jets and ran through the damaged front door, climbing the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor. There stood his mom, ushering the office workers into the corner of the room, pointing her laser gun at them.

“I said, hands behind your head! On your stomachs, all of you!” She barked. 

Minho cleared his throat. She glanced over her shoulder, her face relaxing a little at the sight of him.

“What took you so long?” She said, beckoning him over to where she was standing. He trotted over. 

“Police,” He muttered once he was close enough for her to hear him, too low for any of the civilians to hear him. “I had to shoot one of them in the leg.”

Her eyes lit up. “You really are making progress! I’m proud of you!”

I’m not. “Thanks.”

She handed the laser gun to him, instructing him to shoot if anyone moved, while she went and got all the files she needed. He mentally willed the office workers not to try anything funny.

She bolted around the office space for about ten minutes, getting everything she wanted to get. Every now and then, he heard a yell of a guard being knocked out, the sound of breaking glass, or an alarm that would go off for about five seconds before his mom managed to shut it down.

As Minho trained his eyes on the crowd of people cowering on the floor in front of him, something outside the window caught his eye. He looked up, and his heart stopped.

Flying towards the building was a red blob, which, as it got closer, started to look more and more like his mother’s nemesis, HYH.

Minho instantly pressed the button in his left ear that sent an alert to his mom as he watched in horror. A few seconds later, she appeared around the corner with her flying saucer and a briefcase in her right hand, two flash drives in her left. “What is it?”

He pointed out the window.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Okay. Let’s go, come on.”

They both ran to the stairwell, leaving the office workers behind. They made it down in record time, Minho’s mom turning on the flying saucer and tugging Minho on once they made it outside the building. They surged into the air just before a crazy civilian that had run out from the crowd could knock them to the ground.

But before they could go anywhere, the man in the red suit and well styled hair flew straight into their path, a cocky quirk set on his mouth.

Minho’s mom came to a halt and let out a frustrated huff, knowing it was no use to try and get away. His flying would always be faster than any manmade creation. “Why can’t you just let us leave in peace?”

“With those classified documents?” His voice sounded like a talk show host’s, completely phony. Minho hated it. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

HYH’s eyes flickered over to Minho. Physically, his eyes were exactly like Jisung’s, but when Minho took a closer look, there was no personality or light behind them. Just greed and emptiness. Minho felt anger begin to blossom in his chest.

“I haven’t met your boy yet!” HYH sang, shooting Minho the most condescending look he’d ever seen. “A shame, isn’t it?”

Minho saw his mother’s eyes start to grow hard. “What’s a shame?”

“That you’re pressuring him into this lifestyle,” HYH clicked his tongue. “He’s just a boy, and has already been exposed to so much violence!” The crowd below them cheered at his words. “He shouldn’t be forced into something so serious as this.” He turned back to Minho. “Isn’t that right?”

It was all an act for the crowd, he didn’t mean a single thing he was saying. He was a hypocrite, he would’ve done the exact same thing to Jisung, if not worse. Minho had never wanted to punch someone more than he did at that moment. He wished HYH could see the death glare he was giving him through his mask.

“You have no right to refer to him, let alone speak to him,” Minho’s mom snarled, and pulled out her laser gun, aiming straight at her enemy’s face.

The hero easily dodged the shot, and the fight began.

Minho jumped off the saucer and initiated his jets so that his mom had more space to work, and so that they could attack from two angles. He didn’t have any weapons on him, but he was pretty good at being a distraction.

His mom raced at HYH, attempting to slam into him with her saucer, but he dodged the blow again. He reached out and grabbed her saucer as she whistled past him, flinging it like a frisbee. She cried out as she spun through the air with it, but promptly initiated the brakes right before she was about to crash through a window.

When Minho looked back at HYH, he realized the man was beginning to fly towards Minho’s mom, his hand extended to try and snatch the things she’d taken from the office building. His hand flew up to his earpiece to send an alert to her, and her head snapped up. She rose higher into the air right before HYH could hit her. 

Minho had to say, HYH’s reflexes were amazing. He came to a full stop right before he went flying through the same window Minho’s mom had almost hit, his eyes following her as she drifted away. He began following her, slowly, as to try and intimidate her.

She looked at Minho with red hot fury in her eyes, gesturing with her head at the hero. Minho got the idea.

He started flying at full speed towards HYH, barreling for his chest. The man smirked, and moved away before Minho could hit him.

Bingo.

While he was focused on Minho, he hadn’t noticed that he’d moved directly into the path of Minho’s mom. She tilted her saucer just the slightest bit and rammed it straight into his head.

He was knocked back farther than Minho had expected, and he held his head in his hands, clearly disoriented for a moment. When he opened back up his eyes, the smugness was gone, replaced with rage.

Before Minho realized what was happening, HYH had flown straight at him and grabbed him by the torso, throwing him across the street. The force of his throw was stronger than Minho’s jets, and he was hurdled straight into the brick wall of a parking garage. His back took the majority of the impact, but the pain spread into his arms and head as he fell to the ground. His ears rang and he held back a groan.

While he slowly gained his senses back, he heard a scream coming from the crowd that sounded all too familiar. He groggily looked in the direction it came from, and immediately snapped out of his pain induced daze.

There, pushing through the crowd with all his might, was Jisung. 

The strongest sense of deja vu hit Minho as he watched Jisung emerge from the front of the crowd, running at Minho faster than he’d ever seen the boy move before. The urge to stop Jisung from doing something stupid outweighed the intense pounding in his head, and he struggled to his feet, stumbling straight towards Jisung.

When the two boys met, Minho grabbed Jisung’s arm and started dragging him back towards the crowd. “What are you doing here?” He hissed.

Jisung stared at Minho with wide eyes. “I… you…” He stuttered.

Minho glanced over his shoulder to check to see if either of the parents had seen what was happening. HYH’s eyes were trained on Minho’s mom, oblivious as to what was happening on the ground. But as soon as Minho looked at his mom, he realized she was looking right at them with a thoughtful expression on her face. She gave him a long look before turning away to dodge the grabbing hands of HYH. 

She’d seen Jisung.

“Listen,” Minho muttered in Jisung’s ear as he picked up the pace of his steps, trying to stay calm. “Stay in the crowd, and not in the front where you can easily be seen. Surround yourself with people, right in the middle, and blend in. What I’d really like you to do is go home, but I know you’re not gonna listen.” The whole time he talked, Minho made a point of not looking at Jisung so that nobody would know he was speaking to him. “If you stay, at least stay back.”

They reached the crowd, and all the people scrambled back, clearly scared of getting too close to Minho. He pushed Jisung towards them, taking one last look at his panicked face before he turned on his heel and shot back up into the sky.

Once he’d risen to the level his mom and HYH were at, he noticed his mom had taken out another one of her gadgets: her capture gun. It was one of her newer inventions, and she’d been dying to try it on HYH. The name is pretty self explanatory; it shot out a force field that wrapped around its target, taking it in its hold. Once it had something in its grasp, wherever Minho’s mom pointed the gun was the direction that the force field (and therefore the thing that was inside of it) moved as well. The thing that made it so special about it was that it is basically impossible to get out of the gun’s hold, meaning even HYH’s super strength was no match for the gadget’s power.

Every time Minho’s mom tried to catch HYH off guard and shoot him with the capture gun, he dodged out of the way before it could get him, the forcefield immediately retracting back into the gun when she missed. His reflexes combined with his super speed was too much. He’d have to be really distracted.

An idea crossed Minho’s mind. He needed to hit him where it hurt.

He flew towards HYH, acting as if he was charging at him. The hero easily dodged his blow, and Minho could see him keeping an eye out for his mom at the same time. Minho had to do more than just fake attacks. He took a deep breath.

“Can’t you stay still for two seconds?” He pretended to mutter to himself, just loud enough for HYH to hear him, but quiet enough for him to think he wasn’t supposed to.

HYH’s lips curled into a sneer. “Just give up, kid. You and your excuse of a mother aren’t going to get away with this.”

Minho hummed. “My excuse of a mother, huh? What makes you say that?”

HYH looked away, ducking under another shot from the capture gun. “You’re not going to distract me.” Minho saw him preparing to attack his mom again. 

“I just don’t think you’re one to talk,” He blurted. Please, please.

HYH came to a halt and side-eyed Minho. “What?”

Yes. “Don’t you have a kid? Where is he right now?”

He saw HYH’s jaw shift, his eyes growing cold. “At home with his mother. Safe.”

Minho nodded slowly. His heart raced. “You know, the only reason I know he exists is because my mom kidnapped him once. He’s also the only one who’s successfully escaped The Gripper. Without your help, by the way.” He had to throw in that boast.

HYH aimed his icy glare at Minho. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“My point is,” Minho was careful to keep his voice low enough so that the crowd couldn’t hear him. “If it wasn’t for that night, I wouldn’t know he existed. Hell, I still don’t even know his name.” Yes, that was a lie. But Minho wouldn’t if he’d never searched it up, so he thought it was a valid point. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

The ice in HYH’s eyes began to drip away, anger replacing it. “That he’s safe.”

“No,” Minho spat, his own emotions beginning to bleed into his words. “That you’re neglectful.”

HYH turned his whole body towards Minho. “Shut up.”

“You’ve never been seen in public with him. You’ve never been heard mentioning him, not even once. When was the last time you spoke to him, or his mother for that sake?”

“I said,” HYH reared back his elbow, and before Minho could react, his fist slammed into his face. “Shut up.”

Minho was knocked back a few feet, and the pounding in his head returned, stronger than ever. His ears rang, and when he opened his eyes, his vision was swimming. He knew that if he allowed himself to be hit one more time, he’d probably be knocked out. He felt blood drip from his nose behind his mask.

Then he thought of Jisung’s broken face as he’d told Minho about what his dad had done to him, and heat rose in his chest. He felt himself flying back towards the hero.

He should be considered anything but a hero.

“I don’t think you care about his safety,” Minho managed with the ache in his head, venom lacing his voice. “I think you care about your reputation.”

HYH’s full attention was on Minho, his whole body practically on fire with wrath. 

“Can’t tint it with a powerless son, can you?” Minho tilted his head slightly, and again wished that the man could see his eyes, the knowing look that passed through them. “Can’t be associated with anything that could be considered a source of weakness in your life?”

Minho swore that HYH’s hands had begun to glow.

“You know what I think?” Minho snarled. “I think you’re the embodiment of weakness. I think you’re selfish, I think you’re power hungry, and I think you have no right to criticize someone else’s parenting skills when you see your own child as a pawn in your game.”

A switch flipped.

HYH’s hands balled into fists. “You don’t know shit!” He boomed. Suddenly, he was racing towards Minho, a greed for violence burning on his face. Minho squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the impact, distantly hearing a strangled cry from the crowd, and—

It never happened.

He slowly opened his eyes. Inches from his face hovered a purple bubble, HYH writhing inside of it. His face was screwed up in an effort to try and escape the bubble, and silent screams that were blocked by the forcefield tore from his mouth.

Minho’s eyes followed the bubble’s shape, all the way back to its place of origin: the capture gun, which was gripped in the hand of a grinning Erfinderin.

They’d done it.

Minho sighed in relief and flew back up to his mother’s saucer, taking his place next to her. “What now?”

“Well,” She aimed the gun into the sky, eliciting a gasp from the crowd as the forcefield moved with it. “We should probably get him out of the way.”

She pressed a button on the top of the gun with her thumb, and the forcefield detached from its hold. It was launched into the air like a cannon, and flew farther, and farther, and farther across the city, until it disappeared behind buildings that were several blocks away.

Panicked screams erupted from the crowd, and Minho took a step backwards. He looked at his mom in horror.

“Mom,” He gasped. “That’s not gonna… kill him, right?”

She shrugged and hooked the gun back into her belt. “Probably not.”

He stared at her. “You can’t just do that! What if it does kill him?”

She waved her hand, dismissing the question, and turned to him with a serious look in her eye. “There’s something else I need you to do.”

Something about the way she said those words made dread blossom inside Minho. “...Okay?”

She looked at him, hard and calculated. Her eyes turned cold. “Take off your mask.”

The world around Minho went quiet. He couldn’t hear anything besides the static in his head. “What?”

“You heard me,” She murmured. “You’ve already shown that friend of yours, haven’t you?”

Minho felt bile rise in his throat. “Don’t bring Jisung into this.”

“How can I not? He’s the one that caused all this!” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “Day after day passes, and you don’t show any signs of planning on revealing your identity. I’ve been waiting for too long.” She glanced at the crowd below them. “You’ve already taken enough of a risk. Why is this any different?”

He gaped at her. “Why now? Can’t we just wait until I’m ready?”

“Because if we wait until you’re ‘ready’, it’ll never happen!” She snapped. “Do it now. Take off your mask.”

Minho looked into her eyes. They were intense and feverish.

Minho had never gone against her. He’d always done everything she told him to do, had always been loyal and obedient. He’d always been her sidekick. But why?

And what if he just decided that he didn’t want to be anymore?

He shook his head. “No.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

He crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m not going to be your toy anymore.”

She closed her eyes and clicked her tongue. The sound rang in Minho’s ears. “Alright, then.”

In an instant, her eyes had snapped open and she was reaching behind his head, grabbing for the zipper at the base of his neck.

He swung his hand around and slapped her away, initiating his jets and creating as much distance between them as he could. “What the fuck?!” He managed, struggling to keep his voice below a shout.

“I’m just doing what’s best for you,” She sighed, and shot her saucer towards him.

He felt rage settle into his chest. His own mother.  

This, Minho decided, was where he was drawing the line.

He kicked out his leg when she got close enough, hitting her directly in the side. She grunted, and grabbed the edge of her saucer to keep her feet from slipping off. The kick sent her off of her path, spinning away from Minho.

Once she stabilized herself, she sent a glare at Minho, and came flying at him again, faster this time. He dove around her grabbing hands at the last second, her saucer grazing his leg. Her fingers were only inches away from his face as she passed by.

She screamed in frustration, and flung around to face his slowly retreating figure. “So this is how we’re doing this? Okay.”

She pulled her capture gun out and aimed at the crowd, pulling the trigger. The force field shot out, and Minho watched as it reached down, wrapping around—

No. No.

Jisung, against Minho’s advice, had pushed back to the front of the crowd. And Minho watched as the purple bubble took him into its hold.

Jisung pushed against the borders to no avail as he rose into the air, determination overtaking his features. He looked between Minho and his mom, desperation briefly passing through his eyes.

Minho tore his gaze away, electricity racing into his veins as he turned to his mom. “Let him go,” He growled.

Her lips curled in satisfaction at his reaction. “Not until you take off your mask.”

Minho glanced at Jisung, who fervently shook his head. No, He mouthed, a pleading look in his eyes. Don’t do it.

Minho looked back at his mother. “And if I don’t?”

She aimed the gun higher into the air. Civilians screamed as Jisung was slammed into the wall of the forcefield with the movement. “If you don’t, or you try anything funny, he’ll meet the same fate as his father.” Her eyes gleamed. “But this one’s got no powers to save himself this time, has he?”

Minho felt the electricity in his veins spreading, filling up his senses. His arms tingled. “I don’t think you wanna do that.”

Her smile grew. “Oh, really?”

Before he could stop himself, Minho darted forward.

His mom clearly hadn’t been expecting that. She fumbled the eject button, and wasn’t able to press it as she swerved out of Minho’s path.

Minho focused on her movement. As he tore past, he stretched out as far as he could towards her other hand, the one that was holding the briefcase. It looked as if he wasn’t going to be able to reach, and he winced as his arm muscles ached with how far he was extending it.

Time moved in slow motion. Within half a second, Minho saw his mom notice his plan and begin to attempt to move out of his way again. His heart dropped. He wasn’t going to reach it, this was the end—

His fingers just barely hooked onto the briefcase’s handle, and the briefcase was knocked out of his mom’s hand.

His heart soared. He began to fly away, but moved too abruptly, and the briefcase fell from his fingers. 

He cursed under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mom begin to chase after the falling briefcase, and quickly followed after her.

He gained ground fast, and soon enough they were neck and neck chasing after the files. He reached out and grabbed her saucer, shoving it just enough to slow her down. He was careful not to be too rough, since she was still holding the capture gun with Jisung attached. She let out a frustrated yell as Minho snatched the briefcase out of the air.

He clutched it to his chest and created distance between them again, raising back into the air. He maintained eye contact, although difficult when the look she was giving him was about to burn him to a crisp.

“Let him go,” Minho gestured at Jisung. “Or this is going to the police.”

“I have a better idea,” His mom snapped. “You hand over the briefcase and take off your mask, or the boy is being launched down five blocks.”

Minho looked between Jisung and his mom. Jisung was staring at him with distraught eyes and was yelling something, his voice blocked out by the forcefield. When Minho concentrated on lip reading, he caught Not worth it, and Please.

He looked back at his mom. Her thumb was firmly on the eject button, threatening to press it at any moment. Minho knew he couldn’t pull the same thing again; she was expecting it, and would press the eject button as soon as he made a wrong move.

Being the reason for Jisung getting hurt, or worse, wasn’t worth it.

He sighed and nodded firmly. “Okay.”

His mom’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he began to move forward in the air. He saw Jisung frantically moving in the forcefield in his peripheral vision, and refused to look at him.

When he got close enough, he started to extend the hand that was holding the briefcase, reaching his other hand behind his head and grabbing the zipper on his suit. Jisung’s movement became increasingly hard to ignore.

Minho’s mom reached out her hand, her fingers hovering above the handle. “Thank you, sweetheart,” She murmured, her eyes becoming soothing in a matter of seconds. It made Minho sick. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”

With that, Minho swung the briefcase.

It whizzed past her face, only inches away, and struck the gun. She lost her grip on it, and it went toppling out of her hand.

The loss of the pressure on the trigger caused the forcefield to burst, and Jisung began to fall. The crowd screamed again.

Minho tightened his hold on the briefcase and flew right where Jisung was set to land. Jisung landed in his arms before he could hit the pavement, and Minho was off.

“Minho, what the fuck?” Jisung hissed as he scrambled to securely wrap his arms around Minho’s neck. “You fucking scared me! Don’t ever do that again, holy shit!”

Despite his pounding head and aching muscles, butterflies still managed to flutter in Minho’s stomach. “Okay, I get it, potty mouth.”

Jisung smacked the side of Minho’s head. “I was so scared. I’m serious. When my dad punched you like that…”

“I’m okay. And more importantly, so are you. Everything’s alright, yeah?”

Minho felt Jisung’s hold on him tighten. “I don’t know if I’d say that until after we get your mom off our tail.”

Minho glanced over his shoulder. Sure enough, his mom was following them on her saucer, her capture gun in hand. She was a good distance behind them, and Minho assumed it was because she needed to retrieve the gun he’d knocked away. She luckily wasn’t gaining much ground, since his jets made him move about as fast as her saucer flew.

He chuckled. “We’ll be fine. Her biggest mistake was training me to be a mini her; I know her every move.”

As they zipped through the city blocks, Minho weaved through buildings, trying to psych his mother out with no luck. He rose higher into the sky with each minute that passed, and so did she. He made sharp turns in attempts to lose her, but she stayed on them nonetheless.

Minho was starting to get frustrated when he spotted an opening between two particularly tall buildings. It was small, just thin enough to squeeze through if he aimed correctly. The saucer probably wouldn’t make it.

He pulled Jisung closer into his chest. “Whatever you do, don’t pull away for the next thirty seconds.”

Jisung buried his face into Minho’s shoulder. “If you kill me, I swear…”

Minho narrowed his eyes and focused on the space between the buildings. His heart rate spiked, and he tried not to come to a halt even though it felt like he was about to slam straight into a cement wall. He took a deep breath.

Before he could blink, he could feel the close proximity of walls on either side of him. They’d made it through.

A few seconds later, the sound of metal crashing sounded through the small space. Minho looked back to see his mother’s saucer beginning to lower to the ground, sparks flying from it after slamming into the wall.

“Yes!” He whispered, and continued flying back out into the open. 

Jisung let out a shaky sigh and pulled his face out from Minho’s shoulder. “I can’t believe we actually made it through that.”

“You doubt me too much, Jisungie.”

Minho felt Jisung’s heart thump against him. He didn’t say anything.

“What’s the plan now?” Jisung asked.

Minho hummed in thought. “We find a safe spot to leave you, where there aren’t too many people. I take this briefcase to where it needs to be. And then…” He trailed off, and sighed. “I don’t know.”

He felt Jisung fidget his hands. “If you need somewhere to stay, my place is always an option.”

Minho stayed quiet. He couldn’t bring himself to accept or deny, not after….

Jisung noticed his silence. “Look, about what happened on that phone call—”

Suddenly, a warning flashed across Minho’s vision. It was coming from his suit, which was rare. In big, red flashing letters, it read:

FUEL LEVEL CRITICALLY LOW. FIND LOCATION TO REFUEL.

“Oh, fuck!”  

He hadn’t noticed the fuel icon in the corner of his vision, which had slowly been decreasing throughout the mission.

“What?” Jisung asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

A timer appeared in Minho’s vision. It began to count down from forty five seconds.

Minho felt his breathing becoming unstable. “My jets are low on fuel.”

He felt Jisung tense up in his arms. “Land then, what the hell?”

Minho looked down at the street below them, which was flooded with people and cars. “We can’t, landing here is a suicide mission. People would report our location to the police, start following us. My jets would be dead, so we’d be on foot. There’d be no escape.”

“What do we do, then?”

Minho felt his stomach turn. Thirty seconds remained. “Find somewhere safe to land before the timer runs out so I can refuel my jets.”

He quickly scanned the area in front of him, and his eyes landed on something. It was one of the taller buildings in the city, and he’d been there before during his nighttime adventures. 

He pointed at it. “I think we can make it up to the top of that building before the timer runs out. There’s no entrance to the roof, so I’d be able to fix my jets without interruption. We’d be on our way pretty quickly, at least before any helicopters would be able to get there.”

Jisung gulped. “Okay.”

15 seconds.

Minho raced towards the building. His adrenaline pumped, and he began his incline towards the top. 

10 seconds.

The top of the building grew closer and closer. They could make it, if Minho just grabbed the edge when he was in the vicinity…

Five seconds.

“Come on.” Had he misjudged this?

Three seconds.

“Come on!” He found himself shouting. 

Two seconds.

The top was right there. Jisung gasped.

One second.

Minho reached up as far as he could. His fingers brushed the ledge of the building, and he attempted to curl them around it. The cement scraped against his fingers, and then—

A prolonged beep sounded in his earpiece. His jets went out. 

The ledge of the building slipped out of Minho’s weak grasp.

Jisung screamed. Minho felt his stomach drop as they began to plummet towards the ground, the top of the building becoming more and more distant. The wind roared in his ears.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled Jisung into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” He whispered. He wasn’t even sure if Jisung could hear him.

Minho briefly wondered what would happen after this. How would his mom react? Would Jisung’s dad finally acknowledge him? How would the public remember Minho? Would he ever see Jisung again?

It didn’t matter. Nothing could change his fate.

He waited for the impact, waited for his back to hit the cement. For his vision to go dark, for the end.

But it never came.

Minho came back to his senses, and noticed the wind was no longer howling. In fact, they weren’t even falling anymore. Had his jets started working again?

He slowly opened his eyes. They were hovering midair, Minho still latched onto Jisung. As he came back to the real world, he realized that his whole body was tingling. 

He checked to see if his jets were still dead. They were.

What the hell?

Then, he noticed Jisung’s state. His breathing was labored, and he was holding onto Minho for dear life. His body was completely frozen.

Something clicked in Minho’s mind.

“Jisung,” He murmured. “Are you… are you doing this?”

Jisung was quiet for a moment, before: “I th-think so.” 

“Holy shit.” Minho lifted his hand from Jisung’s back. Sure enough, a sparkling, blue aura surrounded it. He craned his neck to look at his legs, his torso, his arms. They all had the same glow around them.

He laughed giddily. “Jisung, you’re amazing!”

Jisung let out a shuddering huff of air. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”

“Well, it seems like you’re making me float,” Minho breathed. “Do you think you can move me, as well?”

Jisung nodded. “I can try.”

Everything went still again for a moment. The only thing Minho could hear was Jisung’s erratic heartbeat and shallow breaths. He closed his eyes. Come on, Jisung. You can do this.

He felt the tingling in his body become more insistent, to the point where it almost became something like pins and needles. His shoulder muscles burned where Jisung’s hands touched him.

Slowly, but surely, he began to rise higher into the air.

It was a slow incline at first. Inch by inch, Minho watched as the top of the building got closer again. 

Then they started to speed up. In a way that felt somewhat desperate, the side of the building started to zoom past Minho’s eyes as his limbs prickled with pure power. Power that wasn’t his.

Finally, they reached the top of the building, and Minho’s floating body slowed down. They steadily lowered to the roof, Minho’s back gently resting on the rough surface.

As soon as his back touched the roof, the tingling stopped. His limbs flopped onto the bricks, and the blue aura around him dissolved. Jisung slumped in his arms.

He quickly sat up, propping Jisung up with him. Jisung’s looked exhausted; his face was pale, and his eyelids barely stayed open as he hunched over himself.

“You…” Minho stammered, his jaw hanging open. “How…?”

Jisung weakly shook his head. “I don’t know.” He lifted his tired eyes. Despite everything, they still shone in the way that they always did. He was still the same Jisung. “Guess I’m not completely powerless, huh?”

Minho’s eyes started to water up, and he grinned. He tackled Jisung with a bone crushing hug, and felt Jisung’s arms tightly wrap around his waist. Relief and pure joy spread through Minho’s body as they sat there, holding each other like they were the only things that mattered in the world.

-

They stayed at the top of the building for around five minutes while Minho refueled his jets with the emergency flask of fuel he kept in his suit pocket. They agreed that he should be the one who flew them around, since Jisung’s energy was completely drained, and he had no idea how he’d pulled that floating stunt, anyway.

“You’ll master whatever it is with time,” Minho had said with a smile.

They left quickly, and Minho took them along a route that was difficult for police or civilians to follow. He dropped Jisung off in a dark alleyway close to his apartment building. After discreetly watching Jisung walk to his apartment building to make sure he didn’t collapse, or get swarmed by people that might recognize him from the news, he flew to the nearest police station.

Minho wasn’t even sure if this was where he should leave the briefcase. He’d never had to deal with the police or anything of the sort in his life. He quietly landed in an empty parking lot at the back of the building.

He snuck around the corner and peeked through the front windows to survey his situation. The receptionist sat at the front desk, but nobody else seemed to be around.

Before he could psych himself out, Minho ran to the front door and threw the briefcase on the doorstep. He heard a shout, something about “Erfinderin’s masked son,” and flew away before anyone could reach him.

As he flew through the city, a strange feeling settled in his gut. He’d just completely ruined his mother’s plans. Did that make him a traitor? Or had he done the right thing?

He slapped his palm to his forehead, trying to sort out what was going on in his brain. He needed to stop and clear his thoughts.

He flew to the skyscraper he’d taken Jisung to that one night and perched himself on the top. He stared out at the sky, ignoring the tinge of fear he felt from being so high up. The sun was setting, and the sky was tinted an orange-pink color as the sun rays bled through the clouds.

He thought about his mom. The past five years of his life had been the craziest years of his life, and it had nearly driven him to insanity. He thought about the things his mom had pressured him into doing, how she’d basically manipulated him into thinking a certain way, all leading up to today. When she’d snapped. How had Minho been so blind to it all?

He sighed, and knew what he needed to do. He checked the fuel level in his suit. He had enough to get to where he wanted to go.

-

The sky was almost completely dark when he slipped through his bedroom window. The air around him felt unusual, as if he was stepping into a different version of his room. His bed sat unmade, and his things were strewn across the floor. Minho felt like he was staring at someone else’s mess.

He changed out of his suit and into a t-shirt and some sweatpants, and went to his closet to grab a suitcase. He began to pack, starting with clothes and other things he needed, then moved on to stuff he just couldn’t part with. His childhood plush cat toy, a cartoon he’d cut out of the newspaper when he was eight, a pair of fluffy gloves Seungmin had given him when they were fourteen. He felt himself smile fondly as he put those in the suitcase.

His gaze flickered over to his suit that was lying on the floor. He felt like it was staring back at him. Waiting patiently.

The suit had been a staple in Minho’s life for what felt like forever. It was basically a part of him. It had been there for him during sleepless nights, and had given him some of his fondest memories. Minho felt safe when he was wearing it, its dark material hugging his skin and blocking out the dangers from the outside world.

But as he stared at it, he remembered the horrible things he’d done while wearing that suit. That suit was stained with those deeds, and it made his skin crawl when he thought about it. His mom had made that suit for the sole purpose of corrupting him and dragging him into the life she wanted him to lead. Taking that suit with him would just add more weight to his shoulders, the weight he was trying to shed.

He zipped up his suitcase and left the suit lying forgotten on the floor.

As he slipped on his jacket and moved to creep out of his room, something stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t just disappear without a word.

He went back to his desk and rummaged around for a pencil and a piece of paper. If he could just write a note and leave without any interference—

“Minho?”

He snapped his head around. Standing at his doorway was his mom.

He stared at her, unable to speak. She looked tired, her dark circles prominent. He waited for an outburst, or even the smallest hint of anger in her face, but there was nothing. The only thing he saw was exhausted, downcast eyes.

“When…” He swallowed nervously. “When did you get home?”

“About an hour ago,” She said. Her voice was a little raspy. “I just managed to safely get the saucer back to the lab. I didn’t bother repairing it, I can do that another day.” She didn’t elaborate. Minho understood.

“So.” She pointed at his suitcase. “You’re leaving?”

He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

He let out a huff of air and averted his eyes. “Mom, this life isn’t for me. I know you want it to be, and I’ve never told you that I don’t want to do this but… I was scared. I was scared of losing you. You’re—” He blinked. Hard. “You’re the only parent I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose you. I love you.” He looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. “I knew leaving behind this lifestyle meant leaving you, but I can’t do this anymore. This isn’t me. And after what happened today…” He shook his head. “I just can’t. I need to find my own life.”

She gave him a long look. He prepared for the speech trying to convince him to stay.

Then she exhaled. “Okay.”

Minho blinked. “What?” Had he heard that right?

Her face was solemn. “If your heart isn’t in this, if this isn’t what you want to do, then forcing you isn’t the right way of getting you to stay. You need to have your own experience of the world before you join me for good.” She looked down at her feet. “I admit that what I did today wasn’t the best choice. I don’t want you to resent me, and if I’d succeeded in getting your mask off today, there would’ve been a big dent in our teamwork.” 

She glanced up at him, her features sorrowful. “But, Minho… are you sure? You were born for this. Imagine the things we could do together.”

His heart sank at that. He knew there was nothing he could say or do to change her mind about her approach to making a change in the world. She thought that the universal way of defeating evil was with violence and force, and Minho knew there was so much more to it than that. He knew if he didn’t leave, she would find a way to get him to join her again. He refused to go through that for a second time.

He nodded. “I’m sure.”

She studied his face for a moment, and the final embers of hope in her eyes went out. “Alright.”

-

Minho called Changbin, explaining his situation and asking for help. Changbin easily offered for Minho to stay in his guest bedroom.

“I’m not sure how long I’ll need to be there before I can find my own place, are you sure…?”

“I’m sure.” Changbin’s voice was gentle, and Minho could hear the smile behind his words. “I’m so proud of you for doing this.”

Minho’s mom walked him to the front door. He set his suitcase on the floor and turned to her. She smiled bittersweetly at him, and he watched as silent tears stained her cheeks.

He hugged her. He stood there with her in his arms, feeling her hand stroke his hair, unsure of when he’d ever see her again. He knew their relationship wasn’t completely healthy, he knew this was for the best. But it still hurt.

He buried his face into her shoulder. Finally, after months and months, he allowed all his built up angst and turmoil to pour out of him. He cried for what felt like hours.

Minho walked down the sidewalk that night, his eyes puffy and cheeks red, leaving Erfinderin and his old life behind.

-

Later, Minho lay in the bed in Changbin’s guest room, staring at the sky outside his window. Something still felt unfinished, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to get into the mindset he needed to be in without resolving it.

As he gazed at the stars, he thought of sparkling eyes. He thought of heart shaped smiles and bright laughter, of oversized hoodies and windswept hair, of a honey voice and long, warm fingers.

But he also thought of unanswered texts and a broken, angry voice crackling through a phone speaker.

He grabbed his phone.

[Minho]
can we meet up tomorrow?

-

They arranged to meet on the top of a parking garage downtown at 9 PM, where they’d be able to talk without any interruptions. Minho walked down the street, his feet moving on their own accord and his heart thumping in his ears.

He wasn’t really sure what to expect. They had seemed fine the day before, but it still felt like there was a wall in between them, something that made their dynamic a little different to what it was before. Maybe the change had been caused only by the adrenaline of multiple near death experiences; maybe Jisung still didn’t want to be associated with him.

Minho figured it was worth trying to save their friendship, though. He had nothing to lose.

He walked into the parking garage and made a beeline towards the elevators. Once he was in, he pressed the button for the top level, his hands shaking.

He stepped out, and the wind immediately struck his face. The roof of the garage was empty and dark, aside from four or five lampposts providing minimal light.

As Minho scanned the area, his eyes stopped at one of the lampposts. Standing underneath it was Jisung, a halo of yellow light around his head.

Minho’s heart stuttered at the sight of him. He took a deep breath, and started to make his way over.

Jisung spotted Minho once he got closer, and raised his hand in a shy wave. He was wearing another sweatshirt, his hood pulled up over his head and pushing his bangs into his eyes. He looked like he was in much better shape than when Minho had last seen him, his face having gained its color and his posture back to normal. 

Minho reached the lamppost and stopped a few feet in front of Jisung. They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

Jisung gave him a small smile. “Hi.”

Minho couldn’t stop the warmth that spread in his chest, causing him to smile right back. “Hey.”

Jisung studied his face. “You’re all bruised up.”

Minho lightly touched his face. “Is it that noticeable?” He joked.

Jisung giggled.

Minho wanted to hug Jisung, to push his hair out of his eyes and hold his face, something, anything.

He suppressed the urges by shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a hesitant step closer. “How have you been?”

“Fine.” Jisung leaned against the railing, looking down at the ground below them. “I slept for like, fourteen hours. I've been working on… my powers,” He winced at the word. “For the entire day.”

He pulled a pen out of his pocket and set it on the ground. Minho watched as he trained his eyes on it with an intense gaze.

Just when Minho thought nothing was going to happen, the familiar sparkly blue aura appeared around it, and it began to rise into the air. It hovered a foot above the ground for about five seconds, then Jisung let out a sharp exhale and it fell to the ground.

Minho stared at Jisung, a mixture of pride and awe swelling in his chest. He’d never wanted to kiss him more.

Jisung noticed his look and blushed, reaching down to pick up the pen. “I’m pretty sure it’s telekinesis. It’s not much, but it’s definitely progressing. I don’t know how I did what I did yesterday, and I don’t think I’ll be able to accomplish something on that scale again for a while.” He bit his lip. “I think it was just a heat of the moment thing. A last minute save.”

“Survival instincts?” Minho managed, his voice croaky.

Jisung gave him a strange look, like he knew something Minho didn’t. He tilted his head, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Something like that, yeah.”

Minho wasn’t sure why his words started a fire in his soul.

He joined Jisung at the railing and looked at the view. The city was pretty, but it was hard for him to focus on anything other than the sky. The moon was bright, shining a soft glow down onto them and the rest of the city. Jisung’s face was painted by the pale light, his eyelashes casting shadows on his face.

Jisung looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves. “My dad called me today.”

Minho froze. “He did? Is he okay? What’d he say?”

Jisung chuckled. “He’s fine, just a few minor injuries. He was calling to…” He rested his cheek in his hand, and sighed. “To ask if I’d join him.”

Minho’s eyes widened. “He heard about your powers,” He muttered.

Jisung shrugged. “I guess word spreads fast.”

Minho gulped. “What… what'd you say?”

Jisung glanced at Minho. A dangling earring that Minho hadn’t noticed before caught the moonlight in a quick gleam. “I said no.”

Minho’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?”

Jisung nodded.

Minho opened and closed his mouth dumbly. “He’d be able to teach you how to use your powers. You don’t want that?”

Jisung turned to him fully, his elbow bumping against Minho’s arm briefly. “Do you think I should've said yes?”

That made Minho hesitate. Of course not. He was selfish. He didn’t want anything to happen to Jisung, and didn’t want to be torn away from him ever again. If Jisung joined his dad, he’d probably never be able to see him again, he’d be too busy.

“No,” Minho softly admitted, his face heating up in embarrassment.

“Exactly.” Jisung drummed his fingers against the railing. “I don’t want to have anything to do with him. It’s not as if he suddenly decided to care about me. No, he just wants to use me to get more power over the city, to gain more publicity. Father-son duos are popular.” He scoffed. “I don’t want to be a superhero. I don’t ever want to be associated with that community again. If it means I learn how to use my powers the hard way, then so be it.”

Minho watched Jisung, affection bubbling in him. Seeing Jisung take a hold of his own life and break past the obstacles that had been holding him back gave him an overwhelming rush of triumph, as if a box in a list of his life goals had been checked off.

They stood in silence for a while, the cold metal of the railing against Minho’s hands and the fabric of Jisung’s sweater occasionally brushing against his skin. It wasn’t awkward, but there was still something off about their dynamic.

Minho cleared his throat awkwardly, preparing himself. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

Jisung huffed out a laugh. “You think?” There was no malice in his tone, but it still struck a nerve.

He rubbed the back of his neck and ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Jisung. I didn’t want to cut off our friendship. I really didn’t want to.”

“Then why’d you do it?” It was barely a whisper, Jisung’s voice vulnerable but cautious.

Minho broke eye contact and looked back at the moon. “My mom saw us that afternoon you walked me home.” His tone was strained as he forced the words out. “She was acting really weird, and it scared me. I didn't want you to get hurt, so I thought the best solution was to make sure I stayed as far away from you as possible.” He rubbed his eyes as guilt and shame began to set in. “But I guess that didn’t work, did it? You still got hurt.” 

“Hey,” Jisung suddenly grabbed his hand, his grasp tight around Minho’s palm. “That was not your fault. I never should’ve gone there, but I saw you on the news, and I…” His eyebrows furrowed. “I needed to see you. I couldn’t just sit holed up in my apartment while you were out there, risking your life. I had this idea in my delusional head that maybe I could help you. I don’t know…” He shook his head. “But what I do know is it’s not your fault. Please don’t think that.” He squeezed Minho’s hand reassuringly.

Minho’s heart fluttered as he squeezed back. “Okay.”

“I did want to ask,” Jisung’s fingers twitched in Minho’s hold. “Is that really the only reason? Or was what I asked you that afternoon part of it?” 

“That has nothing to do with it, no.”

“Okay,” Jisung sucked in a slow breath. “Are you going to?” He stared at the ground. “Keep working with your mom? Eventually reveal your identity?” His words were timid, afraid.

“I left my mom last night.”

Jisung’s eyes snapped up. “What?”

Minho squeezed his eyes shut for a second. It was now or never.

“When I was twelve, I started going into missions with my mom. I didn’t think much of it at first, I was actually kind of excited. She’d been training me for a long time, and I wanted to be badass and cool like her.” He laughed dryly. “I didn’t exactly know what that entailed.”

“It wasn’t bad when I first started. I rarely went in with her, and when I did she just had me doing miniscule tasks, like distracting the enemy or retrieving things for her. But as the years went by, she started having me go on more and more missions, and made me do more and more… things.” He shivered at the memories. “I felt like a monster. I felt like I could permanently see the things I’d done stained on my hands.”

Jisung let out a quiet breath, but Minho continued anyway.

“Along with that, I never saw myself as my own person. All I amounted myself to was a right-hand man, a sidekick. Someone whose sole purpose was to serve a person who was more important. The idea of me finding my own life was so foreign and terrifying. I hated the life I was living, but I couldn’t leave it. My mom had gotten the idea that I was made to be a second version of her deep into my head, to the point where I couldn’t see anything past that. I started to have these arguments with myself in my head about what I’m meant to do, whether leaving my mom would be betrayal, what my purpose was…” He swallowed down a lump in his throat. “It was scary. I struggled with it for a while.”

“But,” He stared into Jisung’s eyes, and Jisung stared right back at him. “You helped. Obviously, you didn’t make my problems completely disappear, because no one person can do that, but having you around made me feel like a person. When I’m with you I feel more alive than I’ve ever felt.”

He heard Jisung gasp softly, and his hold on Minho’s hand tightened even further.

“Yesterday was what woke me up. My mom trying to force me to do something against my will, and then bringing you into it…” He felt anger begin to boil up again, and cut himself off. “It was too much. I realized that I was more than the life she wanted me to lead. If I didn’t break away now, I’d never be able to experience college, or start dancing again, or,” He briefly looked out at the horizon, embarrassment and other emotions fogging his brain. “Or have you in my life.”

He shrugged and smiled sheepishly. “So, yeah. I left.” He fixed his gaze on Jisung’s sneakers, unable to make eye contact for some reason.

Suddenly, slim fingers took a hold of his jaw. Jisung tilted Minho’s head up, his thumb brushing over Minho’s cheekbone. Minho subconsciously leaned into the touch, his mind going haywire as his eyes turned into saucers.

Jisung held his face for a moment, a fond look on his face. Then he retracted his hand, his cheeks going red. Minho mourned the loss, his skin feeling cold without Jisung’s warmth.

“Minho, th-that’s—” Jisung stuttered, his eyes filled to the brim with emotion. “That’s amazing. It’s not easy to do something like that, especially since she’s your mom. God, I…” He waved his hands around, as if trying to find the words to say. “You inspire me so much.”

Minho laughed nervously, still recovering from the moment earlier. “Shut up.”

“No!” Jisung insisted, his eyes wild. “You are genuinely one of the best people I’ve ever met, I couldn’t care less about the shit your mom forced you to do. You were there for me during my lowest points and protected me countless times, even when I didn’t deserve it. You actually took the time to listen to me, and I feel like you’re the only one who really understands me. You showed me parts of the world that I never would’ve seen without you. You saved my life. I can practically see the things you’re gonna go on to do. I can already imagine it, ‘Lee Minho, dancer of the decade!’”

“Jisung—”

“The fact that I’m getting the chance to have you be a fixed part of my life and my future makes me one of the luckiest people out there.”

Minho’s breath hitched. He felt the rope tied between them again. It was tight around his torso, pulling at him and threatening to topple him over. The strength it was tugging at sent a message into Minho’s brain, telling him he needed to be closer, closer, closer to Jisung. He kept his feet firmly on the ground, resisting the rope’s pull.

Jisung’s lips parted, and he stared at Minho like he was a gift from the universe. Minho was hyper-aware of the areas where their hands touched, of the way Jisung’s fingers were wrapped around his.

“In my eyes,” Jisung whispered, his voice sending chills down Minho’s spine. “You’re one of the brightest stars I’ve ever seen, and your light is only growing by the second.”

The rope tugged at Minho again, hard, and he fell into its pull.

He surged forward, cupping Jisung’s jaw in his hands and capturing his lips with his own. Jisung stilled for a moment, before quickly responding and grabbing Minho’s shoulders. Their noses bumped as Minho tilted his head to find the right angle, but he didn’t care. He felt Jisung’s fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, his other hand trailing down to grab Minho’s bicep, and electricity sizzled through Minho’s chest. The last of his worries faded away as the warmth of the kiss eased into his bones, the tension in his muscles dissolving with each second that passed.

When Minho finally pulled away, Jisung’s eyelids fluttered open, his mouth forming an ‘o’ shape. Minho allowed a soft grin to grow on his face and he reached up to brush Jisung’s bangs out of his eyes. “You’re so pretty.”

Jisung wrinkled his nose and lightly shoved at Minho’s chest. “Don’t get all sappy on me now.”

Minho laughed and fidgeted with Jisung’s hoodie strings. “Says the one who just compared me to a bright star.”

Jisung sighed and leaned his forehead against Minho’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. “You stole my thunder, you know. I was supposed to kiss you, not the other way around.”

“Since when were there rules?”

“Since I imagined it in my head.”

Minho giggled. He pressed a kiss into the top of Jisung’s head and allowed his arms to drape over Jisung’s shoulders, simply because he could. Because he was finally allowed to without any second thoughts. “I’m so sorry for ruining your little fantasy.”

“You make it sound weird.”

Minho hummed in amusement. The thickness that had hung in the air earlier was completely gone, leaving the two boys content in each other’s company, the moonlight shining down on them. Minho knew that even with this change in relationship, they’d always be Minho and Jisung through thick and thin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” He muttered, running a hand up and down Jisung’s spine.

Jisung lifted his head back up, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “We’re both pining idiots, aren’t we?”

Minho shrugged, reaching his hand up yet again to twirl a strand of Jisung’s hair between his fingers. “Guess so.” He looked back at Jisung, whose eyes shone, and melted a little. 

“Does this mean I can kiss you whenever I want, then?” He asked, running a finger down from Jisung’s hair, along the side of his face. 

Jisung closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. “I don’t see why not.”

Minho grinned and took that as his opportunity to lean in again, connecting their lips. The kiss was slower this time, as they both took their time in savoring the feeling of each other’s lips. Jisung grabbed Minho’s sleeve and tugged him closer, causing Minho to smile against Jisung’s mouth as he stumbled over his own feet. 

They broke apart again after a while, and Jisung looked at Minho with stars in his eyes. Minho was reminded of when they’d flown to the highest point in the city, when the whole world had seemed to reflect back at him in Jisung’s eyes.

Then he remembered the night Jisung saw his face for the first time. He remembered looking up to the night sky in hopes of finding an answer, asking the galaxy for a sign. For something to guide him. This whole time, Jisung had been his guide towards finding himself, his anchor in the midst of a high tide.

“This is kind of like a new chapter for us, isn’t it?” He muttered breathlessly.

Jisung nodded and glanced out at the horizon, where the buildings stretched into the sky. “It is.” He took Minho’s face into his hands. “And this time, we’ll be the ones in control of our story.”